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nadvs · 2 months

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cam girl (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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You were too tired to wake up to your alarm. You snoozed for an extra hour under a mountain of blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When you finally feel ready to start your Sunday, it’s almost 10, and your mind slowly pieces together everything that happened last night.

Rafe has become your sugar daddy. There’s no doubt about it, no other word for it. At this point, you’re sure he’s given you almost ten grand.

You remain lying in bed and pick up your phone to see he texted you five minutes ago. After the $3000 transfer last night, you had quickly saved his number.

Rafe: sore?

You reply: as fuck.

Rafe: you loved it

You roll your eyes. Of course you loved it.

You think of the way he spoke to you, mumbling that you’re beautiful and praising the sounds you made. The way he thrusted into you and called your pussy so fucking perfect. The way his skin slapped against yours with his rough jolts. Remembering it makes your stomach twist with arousal.

You reply: so did you

Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: send an ass pic

You: are you always horny?

Rafe: pretty much. woke up hard

You: and i’m the needy one… lmao

Rafe: are u sending it or not

You smile to yourself at how bad he wants you. You push the blankets off your body. You had fallen asleep in a cold room, your radiator refusing to come back to life no matter how hard you tried, so you’re covered head to toe under fleece pajamas.

The way Rafe reacted to your heat being broken replays in your mind. He seemed so dumbfounded by the idea that you couldn’t just fix something without worrying about the cost.

Then he sent you the exact amount you need to fix it. The fact that you can ask for however much you want and he’ll probably send it without hesitation still throws you for a loop. It’s an odd feeling not having to worry about money.

Thankfully, the morning sun has warmed up your bedroom. You pull your pants and underwear down in one smooth movement, turn onto your front and angle your phone camera.

You can smell Rafe on your pillow. The aroma of his cologne is so unbelievably nice, memories already connected to it.

You lie on your back again, pulling the blanket over you, and send him the photo, a low angle image of your naked asscheeks. You gaze at your screen, anticipating what he’ll say.

But he doesn’t send any words. Just a picture. Your eyes travel over the bulge making a tent in his black boxer briefs. You can see the trail of soft, light hair that leads down to his cock.

Your body tightens at the image. He felt so damn good last night. You can’t wait until the next time he’s inside you.

You text: wish u were here?

Rafe: i’d fuck u even harder than i did last night

You: you wouldn’t make me wait hours for it? wow…

Rafe: you’re so wet right now aren’t you

You can imagine the way he’d say that. He’s so smug. And so right. You dip a hand below the blanket between your legs, your soft folds drenched.

maybe, you reply.

Rafe: you took my cock so good

You bite your lip reading his words. The photo of his covered erection isn’t enough. You need more.

You: show me it

Rafe: you’d like that huh

You: i can just find some porn if you won’t do it

Rafe: don’t even fucking joke about getting off to some other guy’s dick

You smirk. You got to him like you hoped you would.

You: what? i can’t tease you too?

Rafe: no

You: send me a pic then. u know i deserve it

Rafe: only good girls deserve it

You: idk if good girls play with their pussies on camera… maybe i should stop doing that

Rafe: shut up. ur doing it for me every night

He’s so damn worked up that it’s funny. You shrug to yourself, opening another app, letting him sweat.

Your phone buzzes moments later, a notification from him dropping from the top of your screen.

Rafe: ???

You reply: you told me to shut up. i’m listening

He only texts your name.

You: rafe :)

A picture finally comes in. You take in the image of his dick, glad you finally have a chance to appreciate him in brighter lighting. The other photos that he sent over the cam chat were so dark, but now you can see the veins that run down his shaft, the swell of the tip, his large hand gripping the base.

You don’t think you could ever get tired of it.

You: am i allowed to touch myself?

Even through the power struggle between you two, you love giving him the control of when you can orgasm.

Rafe: if you promise me something

You: what?

Rafe: i can watch you play with your asshole tonight

Jesus. He’s unhinged. When he sent that message telling you that you’ll be doing a lot of new things with him, he wasn’t kidding.

The thought of doing this for him is stirring. None of the other guys on cam ever asked for anything like that.

You: i can do that

Rafe: get the toy i bought you. text when ur ready

You drop your phone and rush to find the vibrator, feeling like you’re throbbing now. When you’re all adjusted, you text him: ready.

Your breath hitches as the toy starts to buzz at a brutalizing intensity. You cross your legs, squeeze your chest, and groan as you think about him.

You orgasm within a minute. It feels good, but not as good as when Rafe is actually with you. With him, it’s a new level of ecstasy. Fuck. He may have ruined masturbation for you.

You pick up your phone.

You: might have to go back to sleep after that…

Your phone flashes a notification of $100 being transferred into your digital wallet.

Rafe: order breakfast for yourself

The amount he sent is ridiculous. What kind of place does he get breakfast from?

You doze off again, waking up half an hour later. After ordering food, you send Rafe a screenshot of the confirmation receipt and text: thanks baby <3

Rafe: did u call about the heat yet

You reply: i will

Rafe: do it now

You: bossy

Rafe: now

God, does he love to be in control. You follow his instructions and find the repair place you called last time and make an appointment to get your radiator replaced tomorrow afternoon.

It’s an unreal feeling - your problem being solved in the snap of a finger. This is a little taste of wealth.

You know not to read into it. Rafe’s not doing any of this of the kindness of his heart. Spoiling you is obviously one of the many things he gets off on. But you’re happy to go along with it. Especially considering $3000 is pocket change to this man.

When breakfast is dropped off, you notice a box addressed to you sitting in front of your door. You open it to find a new webcam. Rafe mentioned he’d buy it yesterday. He moves fast.

The day feels long and at 10 pm, you finally log on with the hope that Rafe will do what he did last night and come over instead of making you crave him throughout your session, leaving you to fuck yourself while fantasizing about him.

You’re wearing the ‘princess’ top you bought with his money, matching with pink underwear.

He joins the session and lust fires through you already.

“Hey,” you purr. “How’s the new camera look?”

figure8: much better

figure8 tipped you $100.

“What’s that for?” you giggle.

figure8: for looking so pretty

“Thanks, baby,” you say. “Is this pretty, too?”

You immediately turn onto your knees, looking back at the camera at the sight of your lace panties stretched over your ass.

figure8: goddamn

You smile.

figure8: you get me hard in a fucking second

“Yeah?” you coo. “Did you like my ass pic today?”

figure8: fuck yes. you ever done anal?

You laugh at how direct he is. You never have to wonder what Rafe’s thinking.

You hadn’t gone into that territory, but something about Rafe made you feel adventurous. “No, but maybe I’d try it with you.”

figure8: maybe?

“Depends on your mood,” you say.

figure8: the fuck does that mean

“I had to cum three times for you the other day. But yesterday, you wouldn’t let me do it for fucking hours.” You shrug. “If you make me wait that long again, you’re not getting anything.”

figure8: its honestly really fucking cute how you think you make the rules lol

“Shut up.”

figure8: im not getting anything… sure. i didnt let u cum all day but you were still begging me to fuck you last night

“I hate you,” you laugh.

figure8: you love me and this dick

figure 8: let me see you squeeze your ass

You’re so turned on already, resting your hands on your ass and kneading the flesh. You roam over your skin, fondling and grabbing, then move your fingers to the back of your thighs and bounce your asscheeks for him with your hands.

figure8: fuckkk just like that

“You like these panties?” you ask. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination.

figure8: i wanna see them ripped off

“These were expensive,” you pout.

figure8 tipped you $500.

figure8: there, you can buy more

“God, how much do you think they cost?” you laugh.

figure8: rip them off right now

You dip your fingers beneath the frilly border of the underwear and try to pull them apart. The lace digs into your skin and you finally hear a tear, the fabric giving way.

You watch your image in the screen, the pink lace pulling apart over your asscheeks.

figure8: shake ur ass

You oblige, arching your back, imagining him sitting behind you, big hands on your waist while you writhe and bounce for him.

figure8: let me see ur asshole

The request is probably the most obscene thing he’s ever asked of you. But you like that he does this, that he pushes you into new experiences.

You’re shaking with arousal as you watch yourself obey his orders, spreading open for him.

figure8: holy fucking shit

figure8: i know you’d loooove it up the ass

figure8: get close so i can see you suck on your finger

You’re puzzled at the request, but you obey anyways, turning to face the screen. You shift closer to your laptop and seductively stick your forefinger into your hot mouth, sucking it with quiet moans.

You’re reminded of how he shoved his finger in your mouth last night. Shit, last night was perfect.

figure8: is it nice and wet?

“Mhm.”

figure8: wanna put that finger in your ass for me?

You bite your lip, apprehension inching up your skin. He seems to notice your nervousness.

figure8: nice and slow, baby. you can do it

You nod, turning to spread your ass for him again, then slowly push your digit into your tight hole. You breathe through the pressure, dipping each inch of your finger in with caution, finding pleasure in the new sensation.

figure8: hows it feel?

“Good,” you breathe. You sit up to grab the lube in your nightstand that you bought when you started camming and sit in front of the camera, opening the bottle.

“You want me to try two fingers?” you ask.

figure8: fuck yes

You squeeze the slippery liquid onto your forefinger and middle finger and get onto all fours, angling your ass towards the camera.

When you slip both fingers inside, you arch your back and breathe shakily. Your eyes squeeze shut as you enter your body in a new way for him.

As hot as it is to be doing this for him, now that you’ve had a taste of what it’s like having his body melt into yours, you need him. This just isn’t satisfying enough anymore.

figure8: u like that?

“Mhm,” you moan. “Maybe it’d be better if I try with the dildo?”

You get the reaction you were hoping for.

figure8: the first dick in that ass isn’t gonna be some toy. it’ll be mine, you understand?

“Okay,” you say, brows furrowed, a tone of disappointment in your voice.

figure8: you want it tonight, don’t you?

“Yeah, baby,” you whimper, writhing in anticipation. “I want it tonight.”

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8 has left the session.

You smirk to yourself. It seems like this’ll be your and Rafe’s special version of foreplay. Maybe you’ll always begin with a cam show he pays you for, the same way you two started this wild affair, and then he’ll race over and have his way with you.

You decide to pull off your shirt so you can greet him fully naked.

When you hear his knock at the door, your skin prickles with anticipation. Rafe comes in frenzied, slamming the door behind him, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you back into your bedroom.

“Already naked for me,” he rasps, standing in the middle of your bedroom, holding you, towering over you. “My needy girl.”

“Don’t make me wait any longer, then,” you whisper.

Rafe guides you onto your bed, hovering over top of you, his lips hungrily kissing and sucking on your mouth over and over.

With your back against your sheets, you roll your body beneath his, the sensation of his jeans and t-shirt rubbing on your bare skin wildly sexy.

You swear you can feel his cock jerk under his jeans and you breathe out a contented sigh.

“What?” he asks, pulling back with his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Your cock is twitching,” you tease, slipping your hand under his shirt to feel his hot skin. You pull his shirt off and toss it onto the floor.

Rafe lifts his body slightly and dips his hand between your legs, making you sharply inhale as he spreads your lips apart.

“And you’re so fucking wet,” he replies, like he’s trying to one-up you. You shudder as his fingers run up and down your slit.

He brings his hand up to suck on the tips of his fingers, hard eyes on you, and you feel like you might lose your mind over how hot the shared moment is.

“You taste so good,” he says, voice rough. He comes back down to kiss you hard, then shifts to put his mouth on your tits.

You jerk when he grazes a nipple with his teeth, a moan spilling out of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling him pinch and grip you.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” Rafe says against your cleavage. “You want that?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“My good girl,” he praises. You hear him fumbling with his jeans, the zipper slipping down quickly, and he plunges into you with no warning, with such a rough blow that you whimper.

You feel your body swallow his thickness, stretching to adjust to his size. He curves into you so perfectly.

Rafe pulls back and rocks into you again, your body jolting with his pressure. His chest is pressed against yours and he shifts to the side to put his hand at your throat, long fingers around your neck.

He squeezes gently, still pounding into you.

“Tighter,” you whisper.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says with a breathy laugh, like he can’t believe that you exist, that you’re taking him like this.

His fingers tighten on the sides of your neck as the sound of smacking flesh fills your bedroom. You grunt with every heavenly pump he gives you, his balls swinging against your ass.

“You take it so good,” he breathes. You tilt your head back, letting his big hand grip your neck better. You’re so grateful he didn’t torment you by making you wait this time.

“Get on top,” Rafe groans into your ear, drawing out of you. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

His hands find your hips as he helps pull you over him. With your palms against his firm pecs, you sink onto him, his cock hitting a new angle.

“Fuck,” you choke out. “Oh, my God, Rafe.”

“You like that, huh, baby?” he says, dimples framing his cocky smile.

You start to bounce with your legs bent and framing his torso, leaning forward so your clit rubs around the base of his cock. The feeling of him filling you and the friction against your sensitive spot makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Your heart starts to pound harder as you massage yourself with his dick, grinding at the perfect pace. You look down at him, meeting his blue eyes, as you roll your hips so you can feel him in every possible way.

You dip your head, panting and moaning as he grips your hips. You’ve never wanted to scream from pleasure so badly.

“I know, princess,” he drawls. “I know it feels good.”

The waves of pleasure are so damn nice that you moan and cover your mouth with your hand so your neighbors don’t hear how loud you’re being.

Rafe roughly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down.

“Don’t do that,” he instructs.

“My neighbors-“

“Let ‘em hear how much you love this dick,” he says. You feel like you could cum from his words alone.

“F-fuck,” you stammer, grinding faster and harder. “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum?” he teases. A part of you is afraid he’ll push himself out of you, delay your orgasm.

“Please let me,” you whine, “please, baby.”

“I’ll let you,” Rafe says with an amused chuckle. “God, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

The pleasure spikes in you so damn high that you feel your limbs go numb. You cry out as you dissolve into pleasure in its purest form, continuing to ride him as the orgasm hits you, tightening around him in pulses.

“There you go,” he says soothingly, encouragingly.

You bend over on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, hearing his heart in your ear. Rafe’s warm hand strokes up and down your back as you spasm on top of him.

As your gasps slow down, his hands find your ass. He jiggles your cheeks in his hands and you giggle breathily.

“You gonna let me cum in that ass?” he asks you.

“You can cum anywhere you want,” you breathe, feeling cockdrunk. Rafe’s chest rumbles with his laugh.

You sit up and slowly pull yourself off of him, his hard cock bobbing once it’s out of you.

Even though you’re sure you already made his cock wet enough, you hand him the bottle of lube before getting on all fours on your bed. You look back at him to see him slathering his cock with lube.

“I’ll go slow, princess,” he promises. “I’ll stretch you out first.”

You squeeze your pillow and place it so that you can sink your face into it as he fucks you. With your head dug into the soft cotton, you feel Rafe’s big hands grope your ass.

He spreads your cheeks apart and groans.

“Every part of you is so pretty,” he huffs. “You gonna take my cock in any hole I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, muscles still weak from your orgasm.

You feel a finger slowly enter you and you arch your back, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so new but so fucking nice. The pressure is higher than when you did it on camera for him, his finger bigger than yours.

“There you go,” he coaches as he pushes deeper inside of you. “Shit, it’s so fucking tight. I’m gonna cum in a second, baby, I know it.”

“Fuck, Rafe,” you mumble. “It feels amazing.”

He adds a second finger, working in and out to stretch you out some more. You push back against his fingers to encourage him to go deeper.

“I want to fuck your ass so hard right now,” he groans on the verge of a whine.

“Do it,” you say. “I’m ready. Do it.”

His fingers pull out of you and you feel him spit on you, warm saliva dribbling over your opening. Finally, you feel the tip of his cock start to push into your ass.

The pressure stings as he buries into you and you try not to slump, you try to stay firm for him.

“Oh, my God,” he moans as he fills you. “Fucking… Oh, my fuck…”

His raw, untamed rambling gives you a sense of willpower to stay still and ignore your body’s impulse to pull away from the unfamiliar pain.

Rafe finally presses his base against your ass, filling your hole up completely.

He retreats, giving you some relief, then pounds into you again. The feeling is a good pain as he starts to thrash in and out, his fingers so tight on your hips that you know he’ll bruise you.

He pulls away a hand and you suddenly feel a hard smack on your ass that makes you gasp. He keeps fucking you hard, plunging in and out with a frenzied pace.

“You like it, princess?” he says between breaths. “You like it up the ass? I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” you groan, the feeling pleasurable now that you’re getting used to it. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“It’s not just your pussy that’s mine, is it?” he taunts. “It’s your ass. Your mouth. Your tits. All of you. Fucking all of you.”

His claim of ownership on you is so fucking intoxicating that you almost forget all this is supposed to be is hot, casual sex.

You push away the thought, refusing to let it ruin things. This is just fun. This is all this is.

“Goddamn, and you were just…” he groans as he keeps fucking you. “You were just… fuck, just always around and looking so fucking hot. I never thought I’d get to fuck you.”

You bite your lip at his words, lost in the feeling of a man wanting you this bad. Of Rafe wanting you this bad. You knew he loved to tease you, but shit, he was yearning for you this much whenever you came to clean his house?

“Oh, fuck…” Rafe’s deep voice gives out as you feel him pulse his hot cum into you, his body jerking against you.

He eventually slowly pulls out and you feel his hand slowly rub over the curve of your ass.

“Stay like this,” he says. “I wanna watch my cum drip out of you.” Just when you think he can’t get any filthier, Rafe surprises you. Every damn time.

Once he’s satisfied, you feel him plant a kiss on your ass before he shifts away to put on his underwear.

Your smile is slack as you drop onto your side, hand resting on your forehead. You feel utterly fucked out. He didn’t lie. You won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You watch his chest rise and fall when he lies down next to you.

Again, Rafe surprises you that he’s staying, even if it’s just a little while. He seems like such a fuck and chuck kind of guy. It’s what you expected. Kind of what you welcomed.

He looks at you, amused by how hard you’re gasping for breath.

“Damn, you won’t even need your heat on tonight, huh?” Rafe says. “Gave you a whole fucking workout.”

“If it’ll be like this every night, I’ll cancel,” you joke lazily.

“Cancel?”

“Mhm,” you say tiredly, eyes closing.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

He says your name stern enough that you pop open your eyes.

“I’ll cancel the appointment,” you clarify.

“They didn’t already fix it?”

“Tomorrow was the soonest they could do.” His brows furrow in what looks like anger. You can’t help but chuckle a little. “What’s the big deal?”

“So, you spend another night cold?”

“It’s not that bad,” you say. “I have lots of blankets… and…” You yawn. “A space heater… and… my pajamas…”

You realize you’re lying on top of a thin sheet completely naked but you’re too exhausted to care that you’ll wake up cold. It’s like Rafe fucked the energy out of you.

“I have to lock the door behind you,” you remember. You sit up, rubbing your eyes so you stay alert. “I don’t know if you realized but this isn’t a gated community.”

“Should I… uh, do you want a hotel room or something?” Rafe asks.

You look at him, his head on your pillow, his hair a mess, and offer him a confused smile.

“Hotel?” you repeat.

“If it’s gonna be cold in here.”

“Oh, that radiator has broken a million times,” you say. “I’ve survived a lot of cold nights. I don’t need a penthouse suite.”

Rafe gazes at you with an indistinguishable look.

You feel a bit awkward now. You know he’ll leave eventually, but if he doesn’t do it now, you’ll pass out and he’ll leave the door unlocked.

You stand to keep yourself awake, finding a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt.

“Same time tomorrow?” you try to joke.

“I can stay and…” he says. He sits up, his hair falling over his forehead, his stomach flexing. “Uh, I can… hold you. If you want. So you’re not cold.”

You stand in the middle of your small room, looking down at Rafe, and can’t help but notice how out of place he looks. His large, half-naked frame on your small double bed, his expensive clothes drawn out on your squeaky, scratched up floor, offering to cuddle you to sleep.

This is supposed to be purely sexual. You’ve been having fun and adding to your bank account, while letting him live out his fantasies to sexually and financially dominate the help. That’s all you are to him: a depraved cam girl who cleans his house. Right?

But now, he’s acting… well, nice. Like he’s not just a fuck buddy who gets turned on by giving you money and buying you things. And it’s unexpected.

You’re not sure what to do.

{ read part six here }

2K notes · View notes

ceilidho · 4 months

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prompt: Ghost only takes you half-seriously when you say you want to see other people. He has just the man in mind. tags: dubcon; threesome; anal (2.5k)

He doesn’t so much as twitch when you stumble over your words in an effort to get it out.

“I don’t think this is working,” you say, hands clenched into trembling fists at your sides. “I think we should start seeing other people.”

The only bit of it that Ghost really pays attention to is the fact that you decided to make this little announcement while he’s in the middle of taking apart and cleaning his gun at the kitchen table. His little spitfire girl. Not a lick of fear in you, just a fistful of attitude and snark. The attitude’s ensconced now in your trepidation, a bit smothered under it, nervousness a clear trill in your voice, making it warble, but it shows itself in the downward slant of your brows. Delightful girl.

“That right?” he grunts, jamming the lubricated cotton mop into the bore of the gun. You flinch at the sudden movement, nervous eyes trained on his hands. Ghost makes a note to apologize with his mouth later on.

“Yes,” you croak, then cough to clear your throat. “I’ve, um…I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I think it’ll be better for—for both of us. It’s just…it’s not working out.”

The cigarette dangling from between his lips stinks up the room. Poor girl, he thinks pityingly when you scrunch up your nose and eye it resentfully. Always trying to get him to quit. It’s just shit luck for you that he’s never been good at quitting things, at letting anything go. Everything he’s ever lived through clings to his skin like smoke.

He ashes it out in the little turquoise ceramic pot on the table, a trinket he’d once picked up in Tala'a Kebira years ago while in Morocco on some other business. You look marginally less irked with the cig put out, but that just means that more of his attention can focus squarely on you, which leaves you a bit wide-eyed under his stare.

“For a while, hm?” Ghost asks. It comes out teasingly, if only to him. The lilt in his voice is a tricky one to catch.

You nod; the note must have slipped through your hands like smoke. “There’s a girl I found online that’s studying abroad right now. Offered to sublet me her room while I look for a place. I thought maybe, um…maybe tomorrow I’d go.”

“Don’t worry about all of that,” he says, already dismissing the conversation from his mind. “Won’t be back for another week anyway—no reason for you to run off if I’m not even around.”

“Oh.” You shift from side to side, thinking it over. “I guess. How long will you be gone?”

“A week. Two weeks tops.” Plenty of time for him to sort out this mess. Figure out what exactly caused you to get all jumpy and eager to try out other people.

He smiles internally. Little bird probably just can’t stand how often he’s away, poor thing. It’d be enough to make any girl upset—the constant leaves of absence, gone months without being able to send word, showing up bruised and bloody on the doorstep only to have you fall to pieces trying to put him back together.

There are options though. He’s not opposed to adding someone new either—in fact, he has just the man in mind.

Ghost has been holding Johnny back because he always thought you preferred to just be with one man (and Christ, the whining he’d had to deal with from Johnny, always begging to see you or begging Ghost for even just your panties, anything at all because he was so desperate and Ghost wouldn’t let him have you), but now?

Now there’s no reason to hold Johnny by the collar when he comes over for dinner. Now there’s no reason to kick Johnny from under the table when he leans just a bit too close to you when you’re sitting down to eat, eyes locked on the glimpse of your chest peeking out of your shirt and damn near drooling on it. Now there’s no reason to listen to Johnny jack himself off to the point of tears while trying to get some shut eye on a mission, the only crumpled up photo that Ghost had ever allowed him to take cupped close to his face.

He really pitied the poor mutt before, no pretty girl at home, his only crush being his superior’s girl. But Ghost is magnanimous—he’s a generous man. If you want to see other people, he has the perfect puppy for you to play with.

When you smile, still a bit unsure, he has to smother a grin. “Okay. I’ll stay ‘till then and look.”

The look Johnny gives him when he brings it up is equal parts disbelief and fevered need. “Say that again, Lt?”

“You’re coming over after we wrap this shit up. Bird’s been asking about a third.”

He chokes, scrambling to his feet. The temporary base is damp, always on the frigid side of things so Johnny’s still in uniform for the most part, the fabric rustling in his haste to get up off his bed. It’s not a place either of them are eager to spend more time in than absolutely necessary. The lack of space means that the two of them are made to bunk together as always, sharing a room with two cots and a small en suite, the tub still wet from Ghost’s shower.

“Christ, yer serious? No joke, sir?”

Johnny pushes his head back into Ghost’s hand when Ghost reels him by the hair, dropping a firm close-mouthed kiss onto the centre of his forehead through the fabric of the mask. “She was clear about it. Why? Gettin’ cold feet on me now?”

“No, sir,” Johnny protests, shaking his head as much as he can in Ghost’s grip, eyes shimmering a bit. “I can bring over a bottle o’ wine if ye like. Somethin’ fancy to set the mood.”

Their closeness is not unusual; Johnny’s always been a tactile man, favouring touch over words. One of their small similarities; their shared modes of existing in the world. There’s a line in the sand where you’re concerned that Ghost has been clear on, but he’s used to always having a hand somewhere on Soap, keeping him close. Now, he gets to keep him even closer.

His bird really has the best ideas.

Ghost snorts, knocks their heads together. “Just bring yourself, pup.”

He ignores the way Johnny’s breath hitches, the way he hurries into the bathroom and slams the door behind him the second Ghost lets go. The frantic eager sounds from behind the door when the water runs, only muffling the loudest of his groans. He probably had his dick choked in his fist the second the door shut, a thick nut swirling down the drain within the first five minutes.

They ship out the next morning, exhausted from the week’s work. No amount of sleep out in the field is ever good enough, especially not in cots barely built to accommodate men of their size. Especially not Ghost. Johnny dozes off on his shoulder in the plane, sinking into a deep sleep to compensate for the hours spent tossing and turning the night before. Ghost uses the flight to get a headstart on his paperwork, enough so that he’s not held up on base when they land back home.

He doesn’t give you a heads up that he’s home earlier than planned; no need to give you enough time to pack a bag and schlep it over to that place you’d found. It’s better for everyone if you’re caught a bit off guard, just a little frazzled. Ghost’s not entirely unsympathetic—he knows you’ll overthink things if he gives you any time to yourself.

It’s endearing the way you gape up at him, eyes flitting between him and Johnny, when he finally makes it home. For the few times that Johnny’s been over, it’s not an everyday thing; his visits are always planned and strictly timed, Ghost monitoring him to make sure he doesn’t overstep his bounds. Seeing him with Ghost in your foyer must be strange, must put you on edge.

“Simon, you didn’t tell me you were—” you start and then pause, swallowing. You look over his shoulder at Johnny, smile stiff, uncomfortable. “Hi Johnny.”

You’re always a good girl, not wanting to argue in front of company.

“Heel,” Ghost says, steel in his voice when Johnny almost lurches from his side. The other man glances over at him with wild eyes, almost on the brink of disobeying, but he holds in the end and stays put. Ghost’s eyes soften when he looks back at you. “Have a nice week, pet?”

“Yes—sorry, I’m glad you’re home safe,” you say, flustered, taking his back from him to drop in the usual place in the hall. “I, um—” again, you eye Johnny nervously, unsure of how much you can say in front of him, “—I found a place…for…you know.”

“‘Course,” Ghost agrees, shucking his boots at the door and giving Johnny a shake by his coat until he does the same. “Missed you too, pet. C’mere.”

He muffles your protests with his mouth when he stalks forward and pulls you in for a wet kiss, rolling the mask up and off at the same time. You’re a bit stiff in his arms until he slips you some tongue and the resistance leaks out of you, helpless the second he gets his hands on you. Your eyes are still a bit misty when he pulls away, fingers clutched in the collar of his shirt like a reflex. Second nature to cling to him. His chest puffs up at the gesture.

“Thought about what you said the other week, bird, and you’re right.”

You blink, coherence coming back to you, shaking your head to divest yourself of the momentary confusion. “I am?”

“‘Course. Smartest girl in the world, isn’t she, Johnny?” Ghost asks over his shoulder, slipping a hand into your hair at the same time to hold you in place. It makes you frown, his actions not mirroring his words.

“Aye, sir,” Johnny hums, nodding eagerly. Boots off, he stumbles forward, crowding around you from the other side, not realizing that they’ve backed you into a wall until it presses against you, trapping you in place. “Bonnie ‘n sharp as a whip. Always thought so, sir.”

“That’s right,” he agrees, tightening his fingers in your hair until you squeal, brows furrowing in that way they do when you’re right on the precipice of pain and relief. “Only a smart, brave girl would ask for what she needs. You’re just lonely when I’m away, isn’t that right, pet?”

“I’m—I’m what?” you splutter, hands planted on Ghost’s chest, trying to push him away to no avail. He hardly notices it.

“Go on, Johnny,” Ghost murmurs. “Since she asked so nicely. Give her a kiss.”

That’s all his mutt needs to hear.

You huff and puff with the strain it takes to take Ghost’s cock after a week and a half away.

You’re always tighter when he comes back, an effort to work you up to taking him again; he lets Johnny get you prepped this time, slobbering all over your pussy in his eagerness, plugging you with three fingers before you’re even close to ready. He gets off on the way you howl, rutting his cock into the sheets of your bed while he keeps you pinned by a thick arm over your stomach.

Ghost has to scruff him after that. He takes over, running a soothing tongue over where it hurts until you cry big, fat tears and come a couple times. He makes sure you’re taken care of before it gets tough. You’re mindless by the time he moves off you to retrieve the lube from the bedside drawer, only coming back to yourself when he turns you over onto your belly and spreads the cheeks of your ass. It unwinds something in his chest to hear you yelp when he pushes a finger into your ass, like coming home.

This is why he does what he does: to get this when the job is done.

It’s not often he gets to do this, usually too big for you to take comfortably in your ass. Johnny’s not that much smaller, in fairness, so he works you up to two and then three fingers before lying down on the bed and pulling you over him. Your legs tremble when you straddle him, fingers digging into his chest when he lowers you onto his cock for the first time in a week.

“There we go,” he says, grunting when you pull his chest hair a little. “That’s a good girl. We just about done crying now?”

Ghost smiles when you shake your head stubbornly, eyes still filled with tears. “This isn’t what I meant, Simon.”

“You can cuss me out when Johnny’s done, alright? That make you happy?”

He almost chuckles when Johnny clambers back onto the bed in his haste to get his hands back on you, his pants still hanging off an ankle until he gives it a shake once his palms fit over your waist.

“Slowly, pup,” Ghost cautions, reaching around to spread a cheek. He coos when you flinch, whispering for you to relax.

Johnny’s eyes roll back into his head when he pushes in, hips stuttering forward until Ghost snarls and he stops, letting out a deep, shuddering breath to calm himself down. Even for Ghost, it’s intense; you tighten around him when Johnny pushes in, only letting up when he cups your cheek and draws you down for a kiss, loosening you up with his tongue.

“Sir, I can—fuck, fuck, fuck,” Johnny whines, back curving when he drops his head. “She’s so fuckin’ tight, I can—swear I can feel you, sir.”

He’s not wrong. Ghost swears he can feel it himself, Johnny’s cock in his pretty bird’s ass while his is stuffed deep in your cunt. You pant through the stretch, words half-croaked out, unintelligible. It’s better that way. He loves listening to you sing, but you’ve been in a right mood these past couple of weeks. Just needed a good lay to sort you out.

“Simon,” Johnny begs, thrusting forward until he bottoms out in you, making your pulse skyrocket. “I cannae breathe.”

“Yes, you can,” Ghost says dismissively, wiping at the drool slipping out of the corner of your mouth. “Give ‘er a sec and then you can move.”

“So, so, so hot. ‘M gonna come—”

He reaches behind you to wrap a hand around Johnny’s throat, giving it a squeeze. Johnny’s eyes bulge. “You don’t get to come until she does, pup. That’s all the time, got it?”

He doesn’t pay any mind to how Johnny nods and mumbles his little yes, sirs after that—he’s a grown man, maybe not as grown as Ghost, but man enough to compose himself until you stop trembling and sweating so hard.

It’d been a mite difficult to wrangle you into bed. He understands. He’d let you talk yourself red in the face about this not being what you meant by ��seeing other people’, but Ghost hears the said and the unsaid. You wouldn’t be still in his house a whole week later if you really wanted to leave.

“Alright, pet,” he grins, running his thumb over your bottom lip until it drops open and you let him run it over your teeth. “Hang on now.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #cod simon riley #soap mactavish #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost/reader #ghost/soap/reader #ghoap x reader

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describe-things · 4 months

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This post is made with speech to text because my hand hurts from typing so much today. Please forgive any typos or speech to text swapping similar sounding words.

If you would like to start writing your own image descriptions, feel free to ask any questions.

The main things to keep in mind is that they should begin with some variation of image description start or ID, and end with some variation of image description and, and ID or something like that. This distinguish the image description from the caption or anything else.

Image descriptions should not be written in italics, bold, all caps, or any colors. If text in the image is in all caps, write it in regular case, and simply note before or after it that it's in all caps.

Image descriptions should describe all images in the post, without skipping any. This includes images that are nothing but text.

Plain text image descriptions in the body of the post are more accessible than alt text alone, because many people who need image descriptions cannot use alt text, and Tumblr is known for its glitches, so the accessibility of the alt text all by itself varies widely over time.

It is more accessible to have the image descriptions indented than not, because this helps to visually separate the image description from the caption. Having brackets or parentheses at the end is also helpful for this. This allows people to easily distinguish between the caption and the image description if they need to.

If you are an artist, writing image descriptions for your art will give you full control over the image description, and will allow you to correctly identify details that others might miss. This gives you the opportunity to show which parts of your art hold meaning to you and are important to notice.

If you are describing real people who are unknown to you, unless it is specified within the post or you are already aware, please do not assign any gendered terms to them, or any " male presenting or female presenting" terms like that. This is completely unnecessary and leads to misgendering. It is best to simply describe visible facts about the people. Hair color, length, clothes and style, pose, expression, the light or darkness of their skin, things like that. Do not assume that someone is white simply because they have light skin.

Do not use image descriptions to lie to the audience in any way and do not use image descriptions to make jokes where the audience reading the image description is the butt of the joke.

As an example, if there is a very clearly fake screenshot, do not say that it is simply a screenshot, or if a photo is very blatantly photoshopped, do not say that it is simply a photo. Say an edited photo, a badly edited photo, a screenshot with editing, something like that to indicate the changes have been made and then what you are going to be describing is not the natural version.

As an example, you would say a crab photoshopped to be driving a car. Rather than a photo of a crab driving a car.

Unless you are transcribing a text within the image, do not use meme speak within image descriptions. Do not refer to dogs as doggos for example, unless it is to specify that the dog in the image is, within the image, labeled as a doggo. Do not describe someone walking downstairs as breasted bubbly downstairs, even if it is an actor humorously walking down the stairs to imitate that sentence. Describe the facts of the movements, and then you can make the comparison for clarity.

If someone adds an image description to your post whether this be an original post or a reblog that you have added an image to, it doesn't matter how many notes to post already has, please copy and paste that image description into the original post or your original reblog. If it is a new post that has only a few notes from friends, after you update the original, you can just ask your friends to delete the reblogs of the inaccessible version and reblog the new one. Most people who are good people and care about disabled people will happily do so.

Keep in mind that image descriptions are accessibility tools. Treat them as such.

Anyone can write image descriptions. You do not need any special qualifications or training. As long as you are willing to take constructive criticism if you make a mistake, an image description written by someone who's new to it and honestly doing their best with good intentions is better than no image description at all.

I'm sure I'm forgetting some things, so please feel free to add on more tips and advice.

#made with speech to text #image descriptions #accessability #disabled #cripplepunk #neuropunk #autistic #adhd #if you care about disabled people #start writing image descriptions #especially if you're able-bodied

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zephyrchama · 4 months

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Writing prompt: If MC had been a sheep since they came to the Devildom and then suddenly became human again, would the brothers recognize them? (Under the cut, all 7 brothers, SFW, written in second person.)

Others might have written about this before, it's a fun concept. In the beginning of the manga it's explained that MC appears to be a sheep for reasons. I like to think that they gradually change back and their sheep characteristics slowly become more human, while maintaining sheep-like qualities for a while, but it's more fun to write about if they just. suddenly. change back all at once, ta-da.

Humans sometimes face adverse effects when traversing realms. The unnatural spatial movement has equally unnatural consequences for human bodies, which is why you found yourself in the body of a small pink sheep when meeting the brothers for the first time.

Solomon and Diavolo say it will wear off in time, as you adjust to the Devildom. Your body will return to normal eventually, but they don’t know exactly how long. Its been quite some time now and everyone just accepts that this is how things are. You are a small pink sheep, and you are family.

You expected a gradual transformation - to slowly regain human features over time as you got used to life in the Devildom. That didn’t happen. Day by day nothing changed, until the transformation happened all at once.

Lucifer

Lucifer had seen your photo on the exchange student paperwork months ago. A generic little square image stapled to the application, hardly better than a driver’s license photo. He might have taken your paperwork out of the student council room and put it in his private office desk for safekeeping, or to look from time to time to remind himself you really were human.

He was the first one you thought to tell. A big change like this was surely worth a visit to his room, even if he was busy. You knocked your usual knock. Now that you were human-sized, you could reach the middle of the door, but the lack of hooves meant your knock was quieter. There were several seconds of silence. Maybe he didn’t hear you. You went to knock again, but a familiar gruff voice called out “come in,” from the other side so you reached for the handle.

There were piles of record book and stacks of forms upon the desk, but the eldest brother was still visible from the doorway. As if sensing something was different, he paused mid-writing and looked up. Lucifer was taken aback for a moment but quickly regained his usual composed poker face. You tried to hide a smile. Seeing him surprised like that was a rare occasion.

“I see you’ve finally gotten used to it here. Congratulations.” Maybe it was the soft light inside the House of Lamentation, but Lucifer thought you looked far better in person than in that photo. He put down his pen and crossed his hands under his chin. It almost masked the way he leaned slightly forward to get a better look at you over the large desk. “Do you feel alright?”

You nodded, it was strange to adjust to your old height again but you were glad to be back in your body. “You’re sure you feel fine? Come here,” he commanded.

Sitting next to him as a sheep while he worked had become so natural, yet doing so now as a human made you feel so self conscious. Your eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze until he grabbed your shoulder and said “look at me.”

To you, he was just being overprotective. A routine check up on the exchange student to make sure they’re healthy after a sudden transformation. Maybe being close enough to feel his breath each time he exhaled was also necessary. To Lucifer, it was the time he’d been waiting months for. To see your glossy hair, not just a ball of wool, and study the contours of your face. How smooth your cheeks were and the way you politely kept up an embarrassed smile. Yes, the real deal was much nicer than a photograph.

Mammon

Mammon had no idea who you were, at first. You were sitting on the couch, wasting time while waiting for the next family meal. The front door slammed open loudly and closed with a bang. Mammon finally strolled into the living room after a long evening of make-up lessons at school.

“When’s dinner ready? I’m starvin’!” His boisterous voice made the house a little livelier. “And hey, where’s--”

He stammered when his eyes met yours and his voice faltered back down to a normal indoor volume. “Didn’ know we had someone vistin’. Hmph.”

Your jaw dropped. Was he really this dense? He couldn’t recognize you despite all the time you spend together? You turned around to watch over the back of the couch as Mammon walked to the dining room, then left to go down the hallway that led to your room. Several moments later he was in the kitchen. You could hear voices, but not what was said.

After some time he came meandering back to the living room. With one hand on his hip, he remained standing and leaned against the other couch. He was agitated and impatient, and with no one else around he turned to you.

It must have been five seconds, max, but it felt like you stared at each other for an hour. You pouted, glaring at the idiot who thought you seemed like an oddly familiar and comforting presence. “Who’re ya here to see? If it’s The Great Mammon, I’m a busy guy. I can’t just stand around. WIthout compensation, I’m leavin’.”

“Mammon,” you said. Just one word. You sounded hurt. It made his heart skip a beat, he’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Huh? What’d you say?” He heard you loud and clear. He just wanted you to speak again, to hear your voice once more and confirm he wasn’t imagining things.

Of all the ways you imagined showing off your human body to him, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Maybe you were wrong for expecting him to recognize you no matter what, but just like him you would never admit that.

“Oh my gosh, you’re a fool! Here’s your ‘compensation!’” Swiftly, you launched a decorative cushion square at his stomach. Your strike is nothing to him, but you landed an emotional blow when you went to storm off.

He grabbed your wrist before you got out of arm’s reach. Forcefully at first, but quickly realized he had to loosen up to avoid hurting you. “Wh- huh? Is that you? Why didn’t you say anything!? When did this happen?”

Walking away was futile as Mammon was rooted to the spot. “That’s really you, right? This ain’t a joke?”

He pulled you in towards him and spun you around to look at your face. You were mad and upset and relieved that he stopped you and embarrassed at having so many emotions at once. He finally knew, you're his human, alright.

Leviathan

It took a while for things to click for Leviathan.

He first saw you from afar on campus. He wanted to steer clear from you., like with every other student. Though he did do a double-take and stare.

He’d never seen you (well, proper human you) around before, and you looked just like the customizable characters you always created in his games. Same hair style, same eyes, same sense of style. His P2 was real. It was uncanny and he couldn’t wait to tell you all about seeing your player character wandering around campus.

That’s when he realized he hadn’t seen you all day. The sheep you. You were always easy to find due to being bogarted by his flashy brothers. You were one of the few to casually greet him every day as assurance he was welcome at RAD. You were human, and humans weren’t sheep. Didn’t Lucifer say something about that when you first arrived? Oh.

When Leviathan didn’t show up to classes after lunch you went looking for him. It was a tough quest. He wasn’t in any of the usual hiding places and wasn’t answering his DDD. He really didn’t want to see you. Or, well, he really did, but clearly wasn’t prepared to. You finally found him on a bench, shrouded by overgrown tree branches and isolated far on the outskirts of RAD’s campus.

Low muttering gave away his hiding space, unintelligible as he was biting down hard on his thumbnail while he raved. His hair was a tousled mess and from time to time he’d jump up to flail or shake his head.

“Lev-”

You tried to greet him and got met with a glorious, high-pitched shriek. You pushed on anyway.

“Levi! I’ve been looking for you. Notice anything different today?”

“You! Y-y-y-youuu!!” He could not look you in the eye, or look at you at all, but your familiar voice made everything clear. It took some time for him to speak again.  ”You sat in my bed! You sat in my lap!” He referenced all the times you’d stay up late gaming with him. He never objected to that before. “You! You did all that! How could you?”

 ”I… thought we were friends?” ”Well I didn’t know you looked like that!”

All the wholesome memories Levi had of you two bonding, demon and sheep, suddenly changed. No longer were you a cute fuzzball sitting on his legs or snug against him like a plush while he slept. You were a cute human, with human features, sitting between his legs and being held against him in bed. Overnight you went from essentially a security plush to a real person, and he was having trouble adjusting.

“You lied to me! Aagh!” He kicked his legs and pulled at his hair in anxious frustration, his thoughts branching in dozens of conflicting paths at once, so you did the only thing you knew to calm him. A big hug.

He froze right up. You stubbornly told him “I’m still me, you know.”

“But you look…” For the first time he tried looking right at you, but all you noticed was the intense blush across his face. It made you smile.

Satan

Great Detective Satan picked up on your change quickly. It wasn’t hard to deduce for anyone who paid close attention to mysteries, like he did.

You hadn’t asked for any help that morning reaching for things high up. You didn’t ask anyone to carry your heavy school books. Most obviously, you were sitting in the dining room enjoying a hearty piece of toast when he also sat down to eat breakfast. Even though he didn’t physically recognize you, who else would be fearlessly sitting at the House of Lamentation’s breakfast table and happily greeting the Avatar of Wrath?

Rather than the scrambled eggs, Satan was most interested in you. He didn’t hide the way he stared. “You look different.” Slowly, eyes never wavering, he took the chair beside you.  ”Oh yeah! Check it out, I changed back!” You went to stand up and show off, but first needed to wipe the crumbs off your face. Too bad the napkin just slid off your lap and onto the floor. “Ah, hold on, I’ll show you in a sec. It’ll be worth it.” You didn’t want to look sloppy on your first day as a human again, and although hands were easier to eat with than hooves, you had prioritized munching on delicious breakfast food over eating cleanly. Without another clean napkin in arm’s reach, you went to pick up what had fallen.

“Allow me.” Napkin unfolded, Satan leaned in close. Before you could acknowledge his offer he had a hand wrapped around your chin. The heat of his fingers could be felt on your lips through the cloth. He spent an unnecessarily long time tracing the contours around your mouth. A cleaning this thorough would surely ward crumbs off your face for at least a week.

A full minute later, Satan was satisfied and leaned back in his own chair. He didn’t stop staring though. You gave a heartfelt, “thanks! Now let me show you,” and stood up to twirl.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus recognized you right away. He was the only one not taken aback, and was thrilled to see you returned to full glory. “You look just like your socials!”

Not one to miss out on trends, Asmodeus had signed up for a few human realm social media sites. He considered it to be the cultural exchange aspect of your exchange program. On particularly slow evenings he’d even scroll through several years of your image posts and save the cutest ones. Asmodeus was very well acquainted with both your human and sheep looks.

“Do you have anything to wear other than your uniform? We really should trim your hair, too. That didn’t stop growing while you were a sheep, huh?” He was immediately all over you, twirling your hair in his long fingers while circling like a predator locked on to its prey.

“Oh really?” You hadn’t noticed your hair being overly long. You were just happy to be back to normal. “Yeah I’ve got plenty of clothes, but my hair? Are there, like, demon barbers around here? Can you help?”

“Leave it to me! And your nails!” His hand found yours and soon your fingers were entwined. He lifted them up, cheerily exclaiming “how about matching with me?” as he pulled you towards his room. It was hard to keep up with him, but at least you stood a chance now unlike before in that small body. He noticed, and with a cheeky grin turned to ask “you're not still having trouble? I’ll carry you, you know. And when you need another trim, you come to me first.”

Beelzebub

Beelzebub lucked out. He came into the dining hall for the most important meal of the day, just in time to see you twirl for Satan, proclaiming “I’m back!”

Your voice was the same, and you smelled the same as ever. He let out an astonished “woah” while taking the seat across from you. This new form was much better than the sheep one. His fears of accidentally hurting you with too much strength somewhat abated. Though, in his eyes you were still tiny.

“Morning!” you greeted. “Notice anything new?” ”Boy, do I.” Through a mouthful of food, he asked “how did this happen?” 

“Dunno, it must have happened overnight. I just woke up and bam.” You flashed a pair of finger guns at Beel and he laughed.

After breakfast, you two became alone in the dining room. You piled up the dirty dishes and Beelzebub carried them into the kitchen as you followed behind, saying “we better hurry, I didn’t realize it was this late already.”

“Yeah.” He placed everything in the sink, then turned to face you. He held out his arms. “Ready to go?”

Carrying you to school appears to have become a habit. Beel didn’t even hesitate to gently lift you up like you were weightless. It was an everyday occurrence when you were a sheep. But back in your old body with longer legs, having his arm wrap around your waist without a layer of thick wool to cushion you, things felt different. “Y’know, I might be able to walk to school today.”

“Hm?” Beelzebub took a moment to process this. Like he had completely forgotten you got your body back in that short span of time. “Oh! Sorry. Force of habit.” Almost dejectedly, he crouched to set you back on the ground. You reached around to grab his shoulders anyway.

“Well, I never said you had to let go.”

Belphegor

Belphegor thought he was still sleeping. Your human figure was a familiar sight he had seen multiple times. It was how you manifested in your dreams, after all. Sometimes when you napped together he would pick up glimpses of your dreams. On this day he had made it to RAD with time to spare and was dozing off in his seat when you arrived.

Unreservedly, he dragged himself several feet over to you and wrapped his arms around your waist, head on your shoulder right next to your ear. “Hey.” This was a dream anyway, might as well enjoy it.

“Belphie, are you still asleep?” you asked. Physical contact wasn’t so bad, but it got embarrassing in public like this. With a futile shake you tried to rouse him. “Look! Did you notice? I’m not a sheep anymore!”

“Mm, yeah. You’re you.” Avoiding the lights, he buried his eyes in your neck, wishing it was a little darker. He liked you like this. But if this was a dream, why did the light bother him? Why was he still so tired? “Is it… Hm? What time is it?”

“Time for class to start soon. If you fall asleep again Lucifer is gonna kick your butt. Wake up.” You roughly ruffled his hair, causing him to groan and cling to your waist tighter. It did succeed in getting him to raise his head, at least.

After a sleepy pause, Belphegor seemed to grasp his surroundings. He squinted and leaned back, sizing you up. You couldn't tell if he was waking up or preparing to slouch down again until he spoke. “You really changed back? For real?”

“Yep!”

“Heh, good for you.” He pat your sides and let go. It tickled a little. Now, while you were distracted, was his turn to ruffle your hair. Payback disguised as playful praise.

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goldyeokki · 1 year

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𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄. ¹⁸⁺ ✧ 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: fluffy smut ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: you've noticed your boyfriend getting a lot . . . thicker lately.

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 5.5k ꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: no gendered pet names have been used for the (gn!afab!) reader; unprotected sex; oral (reader receiving); jaemin uses pet names like doll, pretty, baby, angel, whore, slut; big dick!jaemin; size kink; dacryphilia; dumbification if you squint; overstimulation if you squint; marking (jaemin receiving); it's pretty rough but it's also so sweet; choking; so so much praise; manhandling

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. my first fic! wah?! for the love of my life, na jaemin! pls give this lots of love<3

it’s a quiet saturday afternoon for both you and your boyfriend jaemin. neither of you have plans nor do you want to make any, so you’re spending the better part of your day lounging in bed together. he’s watching anime on the television screen across your bed while you scroll through tiktok on a lower volume. both of your legs are tangled together; your cheek is pressed against his bare chest, one arm wrapped around his back. meanwhile, he has his own arm secure around you, bicep acting as support for your neck while his hand rests on your hip. since you’re only wearing your panties and one of his shirts, he likes to take advantage of it and gently caress your exposed skin.

deciding to let your eyes take a break from the screen, you lock your phone and set it aside so you can focus on cuddling jaemin. one of the things that you appreciate the most about having an introverted boyfriend is that you don’t need to worry about awkward attempts to make conversation. you’re able to be comfortable in the silence and simply be.

you let your gaze drop from the big screen ahead to the view of his abs. you notice that he’s going to the gym with jeno and mark more often, and his diet’s altered to include more lean meat and dairy products. he tends to hide his figure with baggy clothes and oversized shirts but when it’s just the two of you, he waltzes around the apartment in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. sometimes, he’ll throw on a hoodie and a pair of socks, but that’s for the harsh winters.

you backtrack the events of the day so far, thinking of the shower that you both took together in the morning after he came back from his morning run. when scrubbing his back, you remember putting in a tad bit more effort to get a thorough job done. the scenes rewind in your mind like cuts of a short film. his back is, without a doubt, more defined now, muscles rolling with every slight movement. his chest is firmer too, but it doesn’t compromise how pillow-like it is when you use it to rest your head. and his arms . . . oh yeah, they’re a lot beefier now. when you compare your boyfriend’s build to jeno’s, the difference is clear as day.

he hasn’t always been this thick, though. you pick your phone back up and scroll back to find photos of your boyfriend nine months ago. he did have a lean and cut figure back then.

so maybe that explains the nagging urge to bite him lately.

well, who could blame you? your boyfriend is built like a club bouncer now. a really, really hot club bouncer. one that you’d gladly bounce on his di–

“something on your mind, baby?” his husky voice pulls you out of your reverie. you hum in response, hoping he’ll let it be but you know he’ll pester you if he’s convinced something is up. your eyes follow the movement of his free hand as he grabs the remote and pauses the show. there’s no way you could miss the flex in his arm and the veins that make themselves prominent when he presses down on the button. “are you sure?”

“very, i promise.” you look up to reassure him with a sweet smile. you take the opportunity for your free hand to gently pat his chest and goddamn, he’s firm. you try not to react but it’s obvious that your efforts are in vain when he chuckles.

“really? because the way your eyes went big when you just did that tells me otherwise.” jaemin shifts your positions so that you’re both sitting upright and facing each other. you pout and look at him but the exposure of his body leads your eyes to glaze all over his broad physique brazenly. “ah . . . is that what this is about?”

“hm?” you play coy, forcing your gaze back up to him as you look at him through your lashes, batting them pretty just the way it drives him crazy. it’s so easy to toy with your boyfriend like this. his pupils dilate and he sucks in a quick breath, adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat as he watches you carefully.

“god,” he exhales slowly and carefully. he calls out your name—firm and resolute—with an eyebrow cocked upward. “you’re giving me those eyes . . . fuck. tell me what you want to do. now.” he runs one hand down his face in a feeble attempt to calm himself down, eyes fluttering close as he takes in another deep breath before looking back at you, waiting for you to answer him. he keeps his hands to himself, refusing to touch you until you give him the green light.

there are so many things you want to do to him; so many things you want him to do to you. even in his lust, he looks at you like you put the twinkling stars in the night sky with your very own hands, and god, you kinda wanna sit on his face for it.

it’s a risky statement to make but it’s a risk you’re willing to take. you know that he’s going to jump your bones the second you give him the green light.

“i wanna bite you while you fuck my brains out.”

jaemin doesn’t waste any time—just as you had predicted. he crawls towards you on the bed and once you’re within his reach, he wraps one strong arm around your waist to pull you onto his lap. you’re surprised by the sheer strength that he possesses, evident in the soft gasp and the slightly disoriented look when you realise you’re not where you once were.

“you’re doing this on purpose,” you chastise him with a small pout.

“what am i doing on purpose?” jaemin feigns innocence with a mischievous grin. he pushes away the messy locks of hair that have fallen on your face while the other holds you in place. your eyes trail from his well-manicured hand to his bicep flexing and relaxing with every movement. he takes your chin between his curved index finger and thumb and redirects your gaze so it’s on him. “hey. eyes on me, pretty.” his voice is low and demanding, a twinkle of mischief in his dark eyes as the corner of his lips curls upwards into a smirk. a hot rush of blood flows straight to your core and cheeks from the sudden action.

he uses the hold he has on your chin as leverage to bring your face closer to him until your lips meet halfway. sweet, chaste kisses turn into hot, desperate ones within mere heartbeats. he keeps chasing after you every time you pull away for breath, the grip around you firm as he holds you in place. he doesn’t shy away from contact, no. his hand moves from your chin to cradle the base of your scalp, guiding your head so there’s no accidental bumping while the other slides underneath one of his old shirts that you’re wearing.

the second you’re both pulling away for fresh air, there’s tension and a vague competitiveness that circles the both of you. he glances at you with half-lidded eyes, provoking you with a cheeky smirk and a raise of his eyebrows. this motherfucker. you’re suddenly overcome with a compelling urge to mark him up with hickeys and scratch lines. so, you act on your desires.

you mirror what he likes to do to you: your left hand gently grabs his jaw and turns his face away so you have more access to his neck, lips finding the right spots for you to sink your teeth in and suckle on the flesh until you get him to groan for you. you rock your clothed core against his hardening erection, swathing your tongue over a fresh hickey. you’re rewarded with a deep, throaty groan that rings in your head and sends another rush of blood to your cunt.

“shit, baby,” he exhales slowly in a feeble attempt to keep his composure as you continue your quest.

“gotta let everyone know you belong to me, handsome.” your lips ghost over his ear, whispering words of innocent sin in a low voice to hear another grunt of pleasure from him. satisfied with the reactions he’s giving you, you resume devoting your attention to marking up his neck and chest.

“you’re gonna drive me crazy.” there’s a desperation in his voice where you know he wants to take over. you’re not sure what’s taken over him but decides to let you play first. not that you’re complaining, of course.

you form a trail of open-mouthed kisses all over his broad chest and collarbones, eyelids fluttering against his hot skin until you enclose your lips around one nipple. “oh, shit–!” jaemin’s hips buck up into yours from the sudden sensation of your tongue swirling around the pert bud. his wanton reaction stirs one from you, but you bite back the moan that threatens to spill.

the ache in your core is beginning to become unbearable and you wonder just how much self-control he’s exercising. his hands on your hips are eagerly pushing your heat down against his erection, weakly humping you like a teenage boy experiencing his first sexual encounter.

when you lean back to marvel at your work, you’re greeted with a sight that consumes you with unbridled lust and makes your whole body run hot.

he’s so pretty with his face flushed, flowers of rouge and plum on his neck, collarbones, and chest, glistening with a thin layer of sweat. he’s panting softly, lips swollen from being bitten and sucked on thanks to you, and for a brief moment, the golden late noon sun that peeks through your covered blinds envelopes him in an ethereal glow.

your nails gently rake down his sculpted biceps as you ascend back up, following your trail of hickeys until you find your faces mere inches from each other once again.

“hey, you,” jaemin exhales before giving you a soft, chaste kiss. “had fun?” he asks softly. you giggle, nodding as you cup his face to properly kiss him this time.

even when he’s desperate for air, his lips trap yours in a feverish lock as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. his hips buck upwards into yours every other heartbeat. dexterous hands dance along your body, toying with the fabric that keeps your exposed skin from him. he’s starting to get restless for some proper action—a constant habitual reaction that you’ve noticed from him every time you’re about to get frisky.

he starts to grab and knead possessively at your love handles. that’s when you know: it’s his turn to undress you.

jaemin grabs a fistful of your shirt hem and pulls it over your head before tossing it over his shoulder into a forgotten corner. one hand is on your waist, the other ghosting his fingertips down your spine so your back gently arches into him. he nibbles on your bottom lip and presses your throbbing core against his erection.

the action elicits a soft gasp of surprise from you. he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue past your lips while fondling your right breast, pinching and rolling his thumb over your hardened nipple. he begins his own trail of open-mouthed kisses from your jawline down to your chest just so he can hear your pretty moans.

you don’t even realise that he had been slowly making you lean down until your back hits the mattress. he suddenly stops and your mind is reeling to hazily explore the one thousand and one reasons he might have paused.

before you can even think to ask if everything is okay, jaemin slides your panties to the side and latches his lips onto your clit.

shockwaves spread through your body and your hands immediately fly to his hair, thighs clenching around him when he suckles on the sensitive nub.

“jaemin!” you whine in defeat, eyes fluttering shut with your head thrown back. he only hums in response and the vibrations send another wave of electricity up your spine.

he languidly laps at your juices, his gaze constantly flitting between your face and your core. he eats you out like he’s been given a lavish meal by the gods. he toys with your clit—suckling, flicking, rolling at the nub just to watch your face contort and scrunch up in equal parts pleasure and frustration of not getting what you want. a wide grin appears on his face when your eyes meet and you whine his name in a long drag.

jaemin’s tongue starts to dance along your lower lips, collecting your juices on the wet muscle before he thrusts it deep into your core. you moan from the relief of having something shoved inside of you, walls clenching tightly around him which pulls a throaty grunt from your boyfriend.

the lewd, wet sounds of slurping and sucking fill your shared bedroom. you feel your cheeks and neck burn from how embarrassing and erotic it is but you’re too occupied with how good it feels to have his tongue stretch you out. your high is creeping upon you slowly and before you can push his head deeper so you can ride his face, he pulls away to wrap his lips around your neglected bud.

“tastes so fucking sweet,” he groans around your clit. long, dexterous fingers dig into the pillowy flesh of your thighs as he pins you down, not allowing a single movement from you. “could eat you out all day, baby.” your frustration picks away at you, tears welling in your eyes, walls clenching desperately around nothing. a needy whine is pulled from your throat before you can even stop yourself.

jaemin hums and looks back up at you, raising an eyebrow upward smugly. you’re glaring down at him, body burning with need and lust, while he continues to flick his pointed tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. your body starts to twitch from how sensitive you are, fingers digging deep into his fluffy brown locks but he’s not done playing with you yet.

“need something, pretty?” there’s a gentle slur in his words, pretty pink lips stained with your pearlescent arousal as he rises to his feet. you don’t even know when he discarded his clothes but he’s naked with his cock throbbing against his stomach. he wraps his fingers around his duo-toned erection, spreading beads of precum on himself. “c’mon baby, use your words for me.”

the mattress dips where he parts your thighs with an authoritative bump of his knee, climbing over you like a predator surveying its prey. he leans forward, free hand gently grabbing your jaw while the other lazily pumps himself. he cocks an eyebrow upward as he grinds his bare cock against your sopping folds, letting his heavy tip catch against your clit just to watch you whimper and tremble from the sensation.

“want your cock in me now, jaem,” you whine desperately. he’s second-guessing himself and you can see it in the way his features soften a little in concern. he will always get you to cum at least once before he penetrates and this is the first time he will be forgoing it. but you—you’re desperate. your juices are dripping down your thighs and onto the sheets and you’re beyond sure that he’ll be able to slip right in.

“are you sure, angel?” jaemin’s thumb runs over your bottom lip. when presented with the opportunity, who are you to deny yourself of taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it? his eyes darken, lids drooping halfway and brows furrowing just the slightest. “you’re gonna be the death of me. use your words, pretty.”

he’s caught in a trance-like state as he watches you suck on his thumb. you know he’s tempted to pull his thumb away to replace it with his ring and middle fingers just to see how deep you can take him in. since he denied you of your pleasure, you’ll deny him of his.

you release his thumb from your lips with a soft, wet pop before gazing up at him through your lashes.

“i need you to fuck me now, jaemin. i need you.”

like a switch had been flipped, he cusses under his breath and looks down to guide his cockhead to your entrance. without a hint of a warning, he bullies his cock into your warm, awaiting cunt.

“fuck!” he groans when you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his lower back to encourage him to push deeper. meanwhile, your head is thrown back, eyes rolling back as he sinks further into you, walls tightening around him like a vice. jaemin grabs your jaw once again to force your gaze onto him. “look at me when you’re taking my fat cock, baby.”

you force your eyes open with a shaky breath, doing exactly as you’re told as you pant hotly. he continues burying himself into you until he bottoms out and his eyes bore into you when your face contorts in pure pleasure of feeling the euphoric stretch of your walls to accommodate his heavy girth.

“fuck, how are you always so fucking tight?” he’s the first to break eye contact, lids squeezing shut as he lets you get used to his size. his head falls forward and he takes the opportunity to plant sweet kisses all over your face and cheeks. you know better than anyone that it’s his way of distracting himself while you get used to his size before he starts to fuck you. it’s not like you haven’t fucked in a long time—he’s just big enough for you to struggle even when you’re at least two orgasms down.

“m-move,” you barely whisper.

with your consent, he rolls his hips forward to test the waters and he’s rewarded with a needy whine paired with your walls squeezing around him.

jaemin’s right hand plants firmly on your hip while the other gently grabs your jaw to give him more access to your neck. there’s no warning when he starts ploughing into you, cockhead burying itself deep into your cunt with every upward snap of his hips. pleasure spreads through your body in constant waves as he sets a brutal pace, fucking you with reckless abandon. his name rips through your throat in tandem with the sounds of skin smacking against skin bouncing off the thin walls.

“such a desperate little whore.” his lips latch onto your neck as he continues driving his heavy cockhead deep against all of the good spots. “always so fucking tight for me.” he sighs almost wistfully. the hand that was on your jaw moves to wrap around your throat, fingers pressing down on the right spots to restrict your airflow.

you’re already so sensitive, sparks igniting all over your body, but he angles his hips higher so his tip is aggressively bullying the exact spot that has you seeing stars. your feeble hands wrap around his wrist as he leers over you with a domineering grin.

the sight of him so consumed with lust has your heart racing from how handsome yet hedonistic he looks. his onyx eyes are blown with a dark eagerness, strands of deep brown locks sticking to his temples as beads of sweat form trails down his hairline. his lips are pink and swollen from being kissed so lovingly whilst his neck and collarbones are littered with hickeys done in your name. he looks so sinful. it’s an intoxicating view that sends your head into a tailspin and another hot burst straight to your core.

“you look so pretty when you’re so fucked out, angel,” he hissed through his teeth. “so cockhungry you can’t even speak? all you needed was my cock and you’ll be satisfied, ain’t that right?”

before you can argue with him, jaemin pulls his cock out from you and slaps the tip against your neglected clit. you whine from the sudden emptiness when he pulls away from you, desperate for his hands on your body.

“jaem . . .” your complaint comes in the form of a weak whisper that he only chuckles quietly in response. “i wanna feel you, jaem.”

“patience is a virtue, pretty.” there’s a gentle lilt in his voice and through your glossy vision you can see the grin. he’s having fun taking his own sweet time with you while you crave for his touch. as punishing as it is, part of you is quivering with anticipation for what comes next.

jaemin sinks down onto his knees until he’s face to face with your lower lips. he brings his left hand down to your dripping core, middle and index fingers spreading your pussy lips apart. he huffs in amusement as he watches your hole clench desperately around him. in embarrassment, you try to close your thighs to hide from him but he’s quicker and far stronger. one strong grip of warning and you submit in a heartbeat.

“such a gorgeous cunt . . . probably waiting for more of my cock, hm?” he asks without really asking, gaze flitting up to yours and he’s chuckling once again when you nod desperately.

he rises to his feet, casually patting his hand against your pussy and making it a point for the heel of his palm to put pressure against your throbbing clit.

“jaemin . . .”

“shh, we’ll get there, baby. patience.”

he pulls you up into a sitting position with ease before he takes his own space on his side of the bed. his back is against the headboard, pillows supporting him as he sits back and strokes his aching cock. you stare at him through your wet lashes, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“pretty baby wants my cock, right?” you nod eagerly. “show me how badly you want it, then.” you want to glare and huff and puff and throw a tantrum but his stern gaze penetrates right through you. you pout in a feeble attempt to get him to at least pull you onto his thick lap again but he doesn’t budge.

“you’re so mean.” you complain with a grumble. with trembling thighs and arms you crawl over to him anyway. you don’t think look too hot or sexy but jaemin watches your every move like he’s going to eat you up the second you’re in his grasp. he maintains eye contact as he cleans up the hand that he used to touch himself, flat tongue licking and swirling around his dexterous digits. god, he looks so fucking hot.

you don’t know what he’s going to do next but you’re going to take advantage of getting up close so you can sink your teeth into his shoulders and your nails into his biceps.

“oh, i’m mean for giving you a chance to prove how much your slutty pussy wants my fat cock?” his words are so vulgar and it sends a hot rush straight to your core. when you straddle him, cockhead ghosting over your pussy lips, he gently takes your chin between his thumb and curled index finger to guide your eyes onto him. “why are you so quiet? cat got your tongue, doll?”

“no.” you huff in defence. jaemin chuckles in amusement when you plant both your hands on his shoulders and turn your face away slightly. when you’ve steadied yourself successfully, you take the base of his cock and line him up with your entrance.

as much as you would love to worship his body as he did to you, you’re far too impatient and too desperate to chase after your high. he’s been teasing you relentlessly and you’re going to get what you’ve been craving for.

you sink yourself down onto his cock, taking deep breaths while your walls flutter restlessly around his girth. his hands fly to your waist and guide you until you’re buried to the hilt. the tip is snugly kissing your g-spot when you’re seated properly, thighs burning from the effort after being relentlessly toyed with. your head drops and a soft moan of his name comes from your throat, forehead resting against his shoulder.

“shit,” he curses under his breath. the grip he has on your waist moves to your ass, kneading the pillowy flesh and littering kisses all over your temple and exposed shoulder. “you okay, pretty? i know my cock is too big for your greedy cunt but you take it like a good slut anyway, don’t you?” your whimpers and weak nods in response to his lewd words made his cock twitch inside of you, sending chills up your spine.

it drives you insane the way he can be so sweet and gentle while calling you such mean and obscene names. and you hate the way it makes your walls clench like a vice around him.

“yeah? i knew you liked being called a good slut.” jaemin’s fingers dig into you, biceps bulging as he effortlessly lifts you up and down his cock at a slow and steady pace. every time he sinks you down, he makes it a point to snap his hips upwards to meet you halfway. “such a cockhungry angel. what would everyone say if they saw you drooling all over my cock, huh?”

you mewl weakly in response, biting down on his shoulder to suppress your moans while your nails dig into his biceps.

“fuck, you really like getting called such dirty names, don’t you?” he bullies his cockhead right where it makes you see stars in your vision just so he can hear your sweet cries for mercy. you feel a little lightheaded from the pleasure coursing through your veins with every gentle yet hard thrust into you, blissfully taking his cock as he wants you to. “you’re so fucking dirty, baby. whose cock does this pussy belong to?”

you want to say his name, to say that it’s him, but you’re too drunk on the feeling of him wrapped around your walls to think of anything coherent.

“already dumb on my cock? i’ve barely begun, babe.”

while he’s still inside of you, jaemin secures your legs around his waist before he pushes you onto your back, changing your positions once more. the air gets knocked out of your lungs at the sudden switch, meekly whimpering his name when he checks on you. when he’s sure you’re okay, he gives you a sweet kiss on your forehead.

you don’t even realise that he has your knees hooked on his shoulders, his own digging into the mattress on either side of you. before you can process what is happening, you’re left gasping for air once again when he starts pounding into you with reckless abandon.

“jaemin!” a broken cry of his name rips through your throat when he snakes one hand down to roll your clit in figure eights. between his cock ruining your walls and the added stimulation to your throbbing clit, there’s nothing but sweet release and pleasure that fills your mind. “j-jaem, fuck, ‘s too– fuck!”

“too what, baby? is it too much? is my fat cock too much for you, baby?” he growls into your ear yet places a sloppy, tender kiss on your jawline. “you were just begging to get fucked like a whore and now—shit—and now my angel’s complaining it’s too much?” he punctuates the last three words with a thrust harder and rougher than the last, sending your head into a tailspin as your jaw drops to mewl weakly.

his words sink into your skin, touch electrifying as he patiently helps you reach your high.

“it’s– fuck, jaemin!” you weep pathetically with your walls clenching around him like a vice. you bite down on your lower lip as tears spring from your eyes due to the overstimulation of him relentlessly hitting your g-spot again and again while toying with your throbbing clit. the familiar knot starts to form and build up in your stomach, your body burning up with a feverish lust that only he can take care of. “i’m close, fuck, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop, please!”

“my baby’s close?” he echoes. beads of sweat drip down his chin and mix with yours on your body. you didn’t think he could get any rougher but he proves you otherwise with his incessant rolling and tapping on your throbbing bud. he leans back to allow his free hand to play with your tits—kneading, pinching and rolling at your sensitive nipples with calloused fingers. “go on, baby. make a mess all over my cock before i fill you up, can you do that for me?”

all of the stimulations are piling up. you can’t focus on one thing at all; everything is too much all at once and the knot in your stomach is tightening dangerously. every shove and drag of his cock within your walls leave you gasping for hair, sucking him back in desperately when he withdraws himself. the sound of wet skin slapping against skin fills your ears, your moans bouncing off the walls in tandem with jaemin snapping his hips against yours. your eyes fly open—when had they shut?—to look at your boyfriend whose dark eyes burn with a feral desire to make you come undone.

“what’s wrong, baby? need me to talk you through your orgasm?” as if your body doesn’t feel hot enough already, your cheeks burn and you weakly manage a nod. he grins, clearly proud that he has this effect on you. “c’mon baby, i know you want my cum to fill you up. don’t you? i know you can do it for me, i’m close too. make a mess all over my fat cock and show me who this tight cunt belongs to.”

his words are all that it takes to bring you your sweet release. his name is ripped from your throat as your orgasm hits you in a dangerous wave, pussy clamping down on him and forming milky white rings around his cock. jaemin doesn’t stop pounding recklessly into you nor does he stop toying with your clit, switching between tapping and rolling the bud as he helps you ride out your high while he chases after his own.

“so good, you’re so fucking good for me,” he groans. the wet squelching sounds get lewder with every drag of his cock through your fluttering walls. you shouldn’t feel embarrassed about it but for some reason you are. your boyfriend doesn’t give you enough time to think about it as his thrusts get sloppier and he starts to lose his rhythm. “fuck, you’re so pretty when you cry for me. your cunt’s so fucking good, so tight f’me, fuck! i’m gonna cum, you gonna let me fill your needy pussy up, angel?”

“yes, fuck, yes!” both of your hands reach out to cup his face to direct his gaze onto you. “need you to fill me up, jaemin. wanna be dripping full of your cum. cum for me, baby.” your words act as the catalyst to helping him come undone.

his hips stutter against yours, face scrunching up and eyes fluttering shut as your name comes in a long, whiny drag from his throat. his cock twitches once, twice, before you’re filled with his hot seed. the sensation makes your shoulders tense up slightly, quietly moaning at the warmth.

jaemin, while still buried deep inside of you, carefully maneouvres himself so you’re both lying down on the bed. he makes an effort to pull you close into his chest and let him be your mattress to avoid hurting you. both of you are panting heavily, lightheaded from the dizzying pleasure as the after-sex buzz crawls underneath your skin.

“you feeling okay, pretty?” he’s the first to check in on you, turning his head to the side. he reaches his hand out to push locks of your hair that are stuck to your face. in his peripheral vision, he catches the bite marks and faint scratches that adorn his bicep and he laughs through his nose. “jesus christ, babe. sure did a number on me this time, huh?”

his words are swirling in your head and you grin lazily while looking up at him.

“you should look at yourself in the mirror next, handsome.” he cracks another smile at the slight slur in your speech, obviously worn from the spontaneous session.

jaemin lovingly leans into you to press a kiss to your forehead, lips lingering as if he’s letting the affection pour from his soul and into yours.

“i love you, _____.” he confesses in a soft whisper—a confession meant only for you to hear. “let’s take a ten-minute break before i set up the bath so we can clean up, yeah?” his hand rests at your waist, thumb massaging circles and mindless shapes into the soft flesh.

“i love you too, jaemin.” you whisper back. “we can do that.” although your body is still buzzing from the aftermath of what might just be one of your most satisfying orgasms in the past week, you’re stubborn enough to want to take care of him too. in the safety of his arms, you allow yourself to succumb to the exhaustion as your eyelids slowly fall shut.

#na jaemin smut #jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #jaemin x reader smut #hua writes #h.smut #h.dream #h.jaemin

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rongzhi · 7 months

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hey (culture ask incoming) im wondering about weddings in china and whether people generally wear more western style wedding clothes or traditional chinese style?

(Long-winded answer incoming)

Depends.

I would say Chinese/hanfu style wedding attire has been making a big comeback (so to speak) in recent years as a side effect of the hanfu revival movement, but there is also Chinese wedding attire that is distinctly it's own genre of clothing, i.e, bridal/groom wear. When you look at it, you know (if you know) that it's wedding attire. More on this in a second.

Still, for those who can afford it, it is popular these days to wear both western style wedding attire and Chinese wedding attire. Most people who I've seen wear both change into the Chinese attire for the wedding banquet. If they wear a western wedding dress, it will be at the ceremony/walking down the aisle. Likewise, if they wear both hanfu and Chinese wedding attire, they will wear the hanfu for the ceremony. Another thing to keep in mind is that in China, it is quite popular to take wedding photos in a myriad of outfits, not just the one you will be wearing on the occasion. So people nowadays may take photos in all the different kinds of wedding attire (via clothing rentals), whether they are going to wear it at their wedding or not. In that spirit, they still technically wear both western and Chinese style wedding clothes.

Hopefully that answers your question there. I have a #chinese wedding that covers a lot of videos but in which you can see the types of gowns and all that which I will briefly go into below.

So: when it comes to "traditional Chinese style" wedding attire, what does that really mean?

To me, three main types of clothing come to mind: 1) Chinese Wedding Attire™ , 2) Chinese style wedding attire, 3) Wedding hanfu

1) Chinese Wedding Attire™, AKA 秀禾服 Xiùhé

Visually distinct, it is not really hanfu nor qizhuang but a secret third thing.... In this case, it is a blend of Qing dynasty and Republican era styles dubbed "xiuhe". As bridal wear specifically, it is actually a rather recent trend (21st century), but it's become a fixture in Chinese wedding wear. While the colors can vary wildly and magnificently, the classic colors here are gold and red.

The style that exists today shows Qing dynasty influence in its construction and at its core consists of both bride and groom wearing embroidered tang suit tops and a matching silk skirt. The bride usually wears hair ornaments/pins in place of a veil. Since there are pins in the hair, brides may wear a xiapei/cape with a long train instead.

A few bridal styles (keep in mind that these are just the classic cuts and colors—there are other styles/colors that contain recognisable elements of bridal wear but are made of different fabrics, have different draping, have more tassels, have a softer look, etc):

2) Chinese style wedding attire

This is admittedly somewhat of the same thing as Wedding Attire™, just toned down as it was more popular/commonplace in the last century, when it was what was most affordable for most, but it's a style that nonetheless comes to mind. With this, the key is simply that the bride wears a mostly all red dress/top+skirt and the groom wears a suit. Bride and groom will also often wear a red flower/ribbon pinned to their top or worn around them gift-wrapped style, haha. My mom just wore a red top and bottom to her wedding dinner (that's as much detail as I've ever gotten out of her lol) when she got married in the early 80s. Another thing is, since white is a funerary color/color of death in Asian cultures, some people also just wear Western style wedding dresses that are red.

3) Wedding hanfu

As you can imagine, this is ornate hanfu that is worn for weddings. Song/Ming style hanfu is particularly popular here.This clothing is traditional in the sense that it has historical basis and is what those who could afford to word for weddings historically. Historical wedding colors varied but color pairings like red & blue and red & green are traditional (man wears red, woman wears blue/green; 红男绿女). Wearing hanfu for weddings is a trend that has become popular with the hanfu revival movement and is, as you might guess, a trend for Han Chinese people

Chinese ethnic minorities have their own wedding attire that they may choose to wear/wear as well (if they do a banquet, etc). Or they might just wear red/xiuhe/western style dresses, too—this is another area where wedding photos let you basically wear everything.

(just a few examples:)

#text #answered ask #chinese wedding #hanfu #long post #少数民族 #LMAO I just noticed I accidentally included the same couple twice in the hanfu section 💀#…it’s ok her makeup and hairpiece is slightly different

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ddejavvu · 6 months

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omg part two for hotch scrolling through your ig pretty please 😭😭 like IMAGINE penelope gathering the rest of the gang so they can collectively stalk your instagram and she accidentally likes one of your pictures while lurking

Penelope isn't often scared of Hotch, because the man has a soft spot for her, and she knows it. But now he's staring at her with a stern glare, something she's not usually on the receiving end of. She shifts on her heels, strangely speechless.

"Sir? Is everything okay?"

He lets her suffer in silence for a moment longer, then gestures towards his phone face-up on the desk. It's lit up with a text notification, and she faintly recognizes the name that it's attached to.

Y/N Y/L/N: Isn't this your computer whiz?

"Open it." Hotch instructs, his voice unfailingly calm, which sets Penelope even further on edge. She reaches out with a trembling finger to tap on the notification and it opens your thread, the screen entirely consumed with a screenshot you'd taken of your instagram. Sure enough, in your notifications page is a note: baby_girl_penny_g liked your photo.

"Um," Penelope stalls, and despite her rampant creativity, she can't bring herself to fib, "Well, I- the tags were-"

"There were no hashtags," Hotch stops her in her tracks, "The only way you could have found that photo was on her profile. How long ago was that posted?"

Penelope scrolls to the bottom of the post even though she doesn't want to, and mutters "2018."

"Five years ago. Five-" Hotch steels himself before he gets too upset, pinching the slim bridge of his nose, "Garcia, did Morgan tell you about this?"

"it wasn't his fault," She pleads his case, "I could tell there was something on his mind! So I got him, like, super drunk, and we-"

"Penelope, this was none of your business." Hotch speaks over her. He doesn't like cutting her off, but he knows her, and she'll talk for hours just to try and weasel her way back into his good graces. He watches her squirm with a stern expression, hands folded on his desk while he clenches his jaw.

"I won't tell anyone else." She promises weakly, and Aaron raises a single eyebrow at her. Secret-keeping is not her forte, and they both know it.

"Okay, so-" She crumples, "I- I totally will. But Hotch, we're gonna be happy for you! I'm already happy for you, you deserve this! You deserve love, even if you try to use this job as an excuse not to find it! You found it, and you should own it."

"I purposefully did not share the status of my relationship with our team. It was meant to be private."

Penelope regains some of her boldness now, even in the face of Hotch's scowl, "Well tough shit, Hotchner! We love you, and we were all there when you lost Haley! We watched you die inside, and we deserve to watch you live again! We are part of your family, Hotch, whether you like it or not, and we're not gonna walk away just because you get snippy with us! So help me, Hotch, I will handcuff myself to you until you realize that we are here. We are here, and we love you, and we always will! You can tell us about your life, because we want to enjoy it with you."

Perhaps she shouldn't have been so forward. Perhaps she shouldn't have said the H-word, or brought up Hotch's infuriating tendency to distrust people's care for him not out of malice, but out of self-loathing. Perhaps she should have hung her head and apologized, but Penelope Garcia is headstrong, and she does not fear the tense wrath of Aaron Hotchner simply for loving him.

For a moment, she worries that she's flaunted a red cape around a bull. Reid's words echo in her mind about how it's nothing to do with the color red, and everything to do with the movement of the fabric, but now is not the time, Doctor Reid, thank you very much. She waits for him to charge, knows he'll withdraw now that she's faced him with the terror of being known, of being cared for, and she can feel her heart sink to the nearly-numb heels of her feet.

Then something in his jaw shifts, and he glances away from her, blinking.

"Thank you." He murmurs, and she thinks she may have heard him wrong.

"What?" She whispers, and he gnaws at the inside of his cheek, caving it in.

"Thank you. For being firm with me." He clarifies, "I... I'm glad that you're here."

Tears spring to her eyes and she nods vigorously, incapable of speech but overflowing with emotion. He swallows, clearing his throat, "In the future, please do not stalk my romantic partners. And... in the future, I will introduce you, so that you don't need to stalk them."

"Okay," She grins through her misty eyes, letting him steer the conversation back towards his comfort zone, "Okay, Hotch. We love you. And- and we're really happy for you, and can I please go and tell the others?"

He laughs despite himself, and doesn't bother steeling himself into composure anymore. He grins, "Fine. But leave out the details of her most recent posts, please."

"The ones where she talks about being sore in the mornings?" She fixes him with a devious grin, already making for the door intent on shouting the news from the rooftops, "I won't say it in the bullpen, 'cause Reid couldn't handle it, but I'm totally gossiping with the girls about it, Hotch."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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alpaca-clouds · 9 months

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The history of Solarpunk

Okay, I guess this has to be said, because the people will always claim the same wrong thing: No, Solarpunk did not "start out as an aesthetic". Jesus, where the hell does this claim even come from? Like, honestly, I am asking.

Solarpunk started out as a genre, that yes, did also include design elements, but also literary elements. A vaguely defined literary genre, but a genre never the less.

And I am not even talking about those early books that we today also claim under the Solarpunk umbrella. So, no, I am not talking about Ursula K. LeGuin, even though she definitely was a big influence on the genre.

The actual history of Solarpunk goes something like that: In the late 1990s and early 2000s the term "Ecopunk" was coined, which was used to refer to books that kinda fit into the Cyberpunk genre umbrella, but were more focused on ecological themes. This was less focused on the "high tech, high life" mantra that Solarpunk ended up with, but it was SciFi stories, that were focused on people interacting with the environment. Often set to a backdrop of environmental apocalypse. Now, other than Solarpunk just a bit later, this genre never got that well defined (especially with Solarpunk kinda taking over the role). As such there is only a handful of things that ever officially called themselves Ecopunk.

At the same time, though, the same sort of thought was picked up in the Brazilian science fiction scene, where the idea was further developed. Both artistically, where it got a lot of influence from the Amazofuturism movement, but also as an ideology. In this there were the ideas from Ecopunk as the "scifi in the ecological collaps" in there, but also the idea of "scifi with technology that allows us to live within the changing world/allows us to live more in harmony with nature".

Now, we do not really know who came up with the idea of naming this "Solarpunk". From all I can find the earliest mention of the term "Solarpunk" that is still online today is in this article from the Blog Republic of Bees. But given the way the blogger talks about it, it is clear there was some vague definition of the genre before it.

These days it is kinda argued about whether that title originally arose in Brazil or in the Anglosphere. But it seems very likely that the term was coined between 2006 and 2008, coming either out of the Brazilian movement around Ecopunk or out of the English Steampunk movement (specifically the literary branch of the Steampunk genre).

In the following years it was thrown around for a bit (there is an archived Wired article from 2009, that mentions the term once, as well as one other article), but for the moment there was not a lot happening in this regard.

Until 2012, when the Brazilian Solarpunk movement really started to bloom and at the same time in Italy Commando Jugendstil made their appearance. In 2012 in Brazil the anthology "Solarpunk: Histórias ecológicas e fantásticas em um mundo sustentável" was released (that did get an English translation not too long ago) establishing some groundwork for the genre. And Commando Jugendstil, who describe themselves as both a "Communication Project" and an "Art Movement", started to work on Solarpunk in Italy. Now, Commando Jugendstil is a bit more complicated than just one or the other. As they very much were a big influence on some of the aesthetic concepts, but also were releasing short stories and did some actual punky political action within Italy.

And all of that was happening in 2012, where the term really started to take off.

And only after this, in 2014, Solarpunk became this aesthetic we know today, when a (now defuct) tumblr blog started posting photos, artworks and other aesthetical things under the caption of Solarpunk. Especially as it was the first time the term was widely used within the Anglosphere.

Undoubtedly: This was probably how most people first learned of Solarpunk... But it was not how Solarpunk started. So, please stop spreading that myth.

The reason this bothers me so much is, that it so widely ignores how this movement definitely has its roots within Latin America and specifically Brazil. Instead this myth basically tries to claim Solarpunk as a thing that fully and completely originated within the anglosphere. Which is just is not.

And yes, there was artistic aspects to that early Solarpunk movement, too. But also a literary and political aspectt. That is not something that was put onto a term that was originally an aesthetic - but rather it was something that was there from the very beginning.

Again: There has been an artistic and aesthetic aspect in Solarpunk from the very beginning, yes. But there has been a literary and political aspect in it the entire time, too. And trying to divorce Solarpunk from those things is just wrong and also... kinda misses the point.

So, please. Just stop claiming that entire "it has been an aesthetic first" thing. Solarpunk is a genre of fiction, it is a political movement, just as much as it is an artistic movement. Always has been. And there has always been punk in it. So, please, stop acting as if Solarpunk is just "pretty artistic vibes". It is not.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk, I guess.

#solarpunk #solarpunk aesthetic #solarpunk fiction #political movement #history #history of solarpunk #amazofuturismus #put the punk back in solarpunk #scifi #science fiction #clifi #climate fiction #ecopunk

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transmutationisms · 6 months

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re: lrb there is such an immense failure in the 'western' 'left' to conceptualise or engage with politics on any level besides the representational or the spectacular. in many ways this is simply a tacit capitulation to the (early) modern articulations of liberalism we ostensibly rail against, where political action is reduced to a field of communicating desires and being 'stood for' by the actually powerful in a governing body. this is essentially still what we are doing when we try to 'raise awareness' or 'show support' standing around by the side of the road with signs. and like the post said, i'm not opposed to those activities happening; i do think for example that there's value in conveying to other workers and disillusioned people that hey, there's a mass movement here. but you have to actually then do something with that movement. you have to understand politics not as a realm of showing things or wanting things but materially producing and using them; that's where labour's actual power lies and always has been. and ofc it's so insidious to see this degree of complete material disengagement in eg the usa, where so much of the material military and financial backing of israel does actually originate. how is it that we are still unable to connect the concept of political action to this real process of provisioning a genocide. how are we still standing here holding signs for photo ops. how are we still thinking that matters even remotely if the threat of material interference in the economy and the military machine is never followed up on, and if our nominal representatives know it won't be followed up on. get fucking real

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snailygoon · 6 months

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BEEN THINKING ABOUT THE POINTS IN THIS VIDEO A LOT. ESPECIALLY AFTER SEEING SO MANY ISREALI SETTLERS SITTING SAFE IN THEIR HOMES, CALLING THE FREE PALESTINE MOVEMENT “SICK" WHILE SIMULTANEOUSLY HAVING THE PRIVILEGE TO BE FLEEING THE COUNTRY BECAUSE THEY FEEL UNSAFE. WHILE JUST A MILE OVER PALESTINIAN PEOPLE ARE LOCKED IN GAZA, BEING MURDERED BY THE THOUSANDS. NO FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT. NO FOOD, NO WATER. JUST CARNAGE. BROUGHT ON BY THE ISRAELI GOVERNMENT/MILITARY. IT'S JUST CRAZY TO ME THAT SO MANY PEOPLE CANT SEE THE HYPOCRISY OF IT ALL. ESPECIALLY THOSE CLAIMING TO BE LIBERAL MINDED.

PUSH PAST YOUR PREJUDICE OF ARAB PEOPLE. LISTEN TO PALESTINIAN VOICES. KEEP SHARING THEIR STORIES. AND INSTEAD OF CLAIMING YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF HISTORY IN THE PAST. BE ON THE RIGHT SIDE NOW! THERE IS NO NEUTRAL STANCE IN A GENOCIDE

ALSO THINKING ABOUT THE AMOUNT OF ZIONISTS I'VE SEEN PUSHING PROPOGANDA. ONLY TALKING ABOUT THE SUPPOSED HORRIBLE THINGS THEY'VE SEEN HAPPEN IN ISREAL INSTEAD OF SHOWING THE WORLD. ALSO THE DEBUNKED AI PHOTOS AND REPORTS. WHILE AT THE SAME TIME I'VE SEEN SO MUCH REAL FOOTAGE OF MANGLED PALESTINIAN PEOPLE. MANGLED CHILDREN KILLED BY ISRAELI FORCES. NOTHING BUT ACTUAL FOOTAGE FROM PEOPLE ON THE GROUND IN GAZA. MEANWHILE THE ISREALI GOVERNMENT HAS TO PAY PEOPLE TO SPREAD LIES THAT THEY CANT BACK UP. ITS SO CLEAR WHATS HAPPENING AND IF YOU CHOOSE NOT TO SEE IT THAN I DONT KNOW HOW TO HELP YOU

TO THE ISRAELI PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN RISKING THEIR LIVES PROTESTING THEIR GOVERNMENTS ACTIONS. EVEN BEING THREATENED BY THEIR OWN POLICE FORCE TO BE SENT IN TO GAZA TO DIE FOR VOCALIZING THEIR SUPPORT OF PALESTINIANS. I WISH NOTHING BUT SAFETY FOR YOU AND YOUR FAMILIES.

AND TO THE PALESTINIAN PEOPLE. THOSE IN GAZA AND THE WEST BANK AND THOSE OUTSIDE OF IT. IM SO SORRY FOR THE UNIMAGINABLE HORRORS YOU ARE FACING. I’VE SEEN FOOTAGE THAT IS SEERED INTO MY MIND. AND IT'S NOT EVEN A FRACTION OF WHAT YOU ARE BEING SUBJECTED TO IN PERSON. WISHING ETERNAL PEACE FOR THE THOUSANDS OF MARTYRS LOST IN NOT JUST THE PAST 17 DAYS, BUT IN THE PAST 75+ YEARS OF OCCUPATION AND FOR THOSE STILL FIGHTING, I WISH FOR YOU TO SEE A FREE PALESTINE IN YOUR LIFETIME. IM SO SORRY.

#FREEPALESTINE 🇵🇸

#froggy goons #free palestine #palestine #gaza

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sh1-n0bu · 6 months

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 17: public sex with sampo koski from hsr

warnings: exhibitionism, degrading, fingering, sampo being a slut as usual, finger sucking, gagging, slight feminization

notes: silly silly con-man getting fucked silly

it was sampo’s intention when he did everything.

annoying you, throwing paper balls at you, constantly going “psst! [name]!” only to blow you a kiss or wink at you when you do sigh and pay attention to him. just simply irking you in general. or getting on your nerves.

being a volunteering medic in natasha’s little clinic leaves your plate full of work to do, little to no sleep schedule except for the power naps you stela from time to time. even as the owner of the clinic worries over your health and the constant heavy eyebags under your eyes, all you do is wave off of her worry.

your work schedule is the reason why you’re always so slow and sluggish in your movements. words slurred, voice low and raspy as you literally fit the term ‘walking dead’. perhaps it was that nature of yours that caused sampo to be infatuated with you.

he’s always seen you around natasha’s clinic. helping out with her work, taking care of others, babysitting the younglings — you did everything and anything. the conman didn’t even bother to hide his eeny teeny crush on you. bringing you red roses, calling you cheesy nicknames, taking care of you, dragging you away to make you cuddle him because his boo boos hurt. it was just a mere sore ankles, sampo. get your act together.

but somehow, someway, you would end up in his arms before drifting off to much needed sleep. he has a silver tongue for a reason. but it was further into your little situationship that sampo started to get a little more daring with his little tease.

asking for your consent first, he would send you small little sneak peak photos that’s more similar to a nude pic. it started out relatively tame.

a small snap of him pulling up the front of his shirt that barely covers anything, showing his v-line perfectly. a little pic with a red rose held between his teeth. quick photo of him shirtless but it became progressively more daring with each pic.

picture of him straight out of the shower with a towel around his waist. a sneak peek of him wearing a bralette and his smug face. him in his boxers. it didn’t took long before he was sending you pictures of him in lingeries or him sucking on a dildo, saying wishing it was you instead.

it won’t take a genius to figure out that he wanted you. badly.

all it took for you to snap and give him what he wanted happened to be showing you a very thin lace tied around his waist. the sideless shirt of his did nothing to hide the string of what you would assume to be a lingerie piece as he pulls out the string, flashing it to you with a smug grin and a pink tinted cheeks.

that was all you needed to have all the energy you needed to fuck him in the empty alleyway next to the clinic. it was way past midnight and no one would be outside during such ungodly hours, making everything perfect.

“stupid slut. you wanted me that bad? did no one taught you how to use your words correctly?” you hiss into his ear angrily, pushing him flush against the wall as you shove two fingers inside his mouth. the thief gags at the feeling, choking on your fingers having not expected you to be so rough but that caused his pants to tighten more.

“now, at least for once be good and get my fingers all nice and wet, got it?” you demand, forefinger and middle finger pulling on his tongue. he could only nod dumbly, having been reduced to whines already. sucking on your fingers, swirling his tongue around them before flicking his wet muscle between your two fingers caused to briefly wonder how good he would be on his knees. that is for later.

once you deem your finger were wet enough, you pull them out. his saliva coating and dripping from your fingers to your palm. his own lips all swollen and green eyes looking hazy. you haven’t even fucked him properly yet.

turning him around with his chest to the wall, you slip a finger inside him, causing him to whine at the stretch. just one finger felt so good already. it made him drool as he wonders how your cock would feel inside him. it would definitely leave him sore and limping for days, rearranging his insides. pushing his leg up with your free hand hooked under his knee, spreading him open for you caused your finger to hit his spot.

“aunngh—! guuhck♡︎ [n-name]... there! r-right there!“ sampo moans out loudly, not even bothering to silence himself in the dark alleyway. he didn’t care about being caught, he just wanted you to fuck him stupid. whether that be with your fingers or your strap, he didn’t care. he just wanted to be fucked stupid by you.

slipping another finger inside his loose hole, you let out a grunt at how tight he was around you. it almost felt like you were fucking a cunt with how he was clamping on your two fingers, moaning and drooling like a cheap whore.

“dirty little thing… have you always fantasized about this? getting fingered in some random alley?” you ask, whispering into his ear as he moans deliriously. you may not have noticed but each time you scissored his hole open, your fingertips always grazed against that one spot. that one spongy spot inside his tight walls that make him squeal. head thrown back on your shoulder as he weakly bucks his hips.

“asnh! gyang… mmgh! anh anh anggh♡︎” whiny, high pitched noises of utter debauchery comes from the conman. weakly bucking his hips back into your fingers. he could only moan and drool in place against the wall as he takes whatever you give him without complaint.

this was all his intention when he first laid eyes on the pretty, lace purple panties. sampo knew you would like it on him.

#nobu.writes #sub hsr #sub honkai star rail #sub! honkai star rail #sub character #sub!character #hsr x reader smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #sub sampo #sampo smut #nobu’s kinktober 2023 #dom gn reader #x dom reader #dom reader #dom!reader

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dcxdpdabbles · 7 months

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Danny and the Fan Blog part 2

Danny is trying to get a picture from the Gotham Bridge of its sister city, Bludhaven. He has dropped his invisibly, sure that being on the edge of a dangerous out-of-the-way ledge will keep unwanted mugging away.

He had flown down to the bottom metal part of the arch right smack in the middle- still far from the water but lower than where the cars and people were.

He sinks to his knees, hoping the bridge's light can get his shadow against the waves for an epic piece. Danny aims his lens, adjusting the focus again, and then presses the button.

At the exact moment, he does, a boat out rushes from underneath the arch of the bridge, and a body flings itself off the bridge's edge above him. The person twists masterfully midair, landing on the boat's deck with a soft thump and not a wasted movement.

Danny's mouth drops open, watching the boot disappear into the horizon before scrambling to see the photo.

It's gorgeous.

The water is highlighted by the golden glow of the street lanterns, and they bounce off the sleek black boat, with the skyscrapers of Bludhaven painting the perfect drop back. But what ties the picture together is Red Robin mid-fall, half twisted and arms above his head that its hard to tell if hes a fallen angel or a rising one.

He's got a half smile on his face, black hair blowing in the wind and Danny breath catches.

It's the best picture he's ever taken.

He stares at the screen of his camera, wondering how he could have been so lucky to have captured the perfect moment. Danny won't even have to do too much editing. It's ready to be posted right now.

He was so excited to share it that Danny abandoned his place, turning invisible and flying back to his apartment. He arrives to find Jazz working on her homework on the kitchen table, but her hand rests on a ghost gun until he drops his powers and becomes invisible.

Her face lights up at once, and her hand lifts from her weapon. "Danny! How was the photos tonight?"

"Only got one." He admits, sprinting forward to show her, "But look at which one!"

He brings up the image from the memory card, displaying it proudly. Jazz mouth slacks. "Woah, Danny, that's amazing! He looks so good in it! How on earth did you manage to get this?"

"Luck, really." He grins, reaching for a plate with apple slices and peanut butter that Jazz likely set out for him. It is his favorite snake.. "I was at the right place at the right time."

"And where exactly was this place?" He winces at the tone, he knows she doesn't like him taking too many risks, but it's not like he's in any real danger. Even the Meta collars that canceled people's powers would never work on him. Danny is a ghost, and no one has the technology for that unless someone finally starts taking his parents seriously.

Vlad has been fine since Jazz convinced him to see a therapist. He is currently in the ghost zone at some mental hospital retreat that has been doing wonders for him. They visit whenever chance they get.

"I may have been under the Gotham Bridge."

"Trigate Bridge or Brown Bridge?"

"There is more then one bridge?"

"Danny," Jazz sighs. "There are four bridges."

Danny shrugs, taking a bit from his snack, and starts his laptop. He's sending the photo onto his blog from his camera, watching the photo download with anticipation. "I don't know Jazz. I ignore stuff like that."

"Well, maybe you should. You have yet to learn how important it is to pay attention to the things around you in this city. Danger is around every corner. Just this afternoon, someone tried to steal my phone!"

Danny's head jerks up. "They what?"

"I know! I was just minding my business reading a fascinating article on child development in the tablet era when some thug walked right up to me with a gun. I would have handled it trust me, his stance was pathetic at best, but Red Hood came to my rescue." Here Jazz's face reddness and Danny has a moment to wonder if he could take Red Hood in a fight. Maybe. He's sure he would win but it would be a close call.

He would do it, too, anything to keep no good punks away from his sister.

Jazz sees the face his making and rolls her eyes. "What? I'm allowed to drool over boys every once in a while. Just like you do."

"I do not droll!" Danny shouts offended.

Jazz gestures to the laptop screen, uploading the photo onto his blog. "Sure. And you just happen to stare at Red Robin's photos for the artistic application."

"I-I do! I took them!" Danny shutters, watching his sister's face break into a teasing smile. He feels his own lips pull upwards against his will and suddenly, they are laughing. It's strange, how at ease they both feel here.

They were never this carefree back at their parent's home. The realization makes Danny feel slightly guilty for noticing- because it wasn't like his parents didn't love him- but there was always tension at home. Even before the accident, he knows now that it wasn't healthy.

Jazz must have felt the change too, because before while she was racing towards adulthood- always strung so tight and nervous- she missed out on being a typical teen. Danny never had a chance to sit down with her and gush about boys, nor had she ever prioritized making friends.

Sure, Jazz was pretty, brilliant, and basically the pride of Casper High, but Danny never noticed she had no friends. She never hung out with people at the mall, she never got invited to go out, and she never texted funny memes to others back home.

In Amity, people knew of and respected her, but no one was close to Jazz. Maybe that's why she got so excited to be part of Team Phantom when she first found out.

Jazz Fenton may have been the intelligent sibling, but Danny Fenton was the social one, leaving her feeling crippling lonely while he had his two best friends.

He knows that now.

"Speaking about drolling over boys- how's Jason?" Danny teases just as Jazz's phone buzzes with a new message. The notification displays Jason's shy smile before Jazz yanks it protectively close to her face.

Jason Peter is someone Danny can approve of instead of that thug Red Hood. Jason and Jazz met at one of their classes at the beginning of the semester when Jazz was still unused to the city. She always went to class ten minutes before it started and read to pass the time instead of speaking to her college mates.

She had been reading Pride and Prejudice- one of the fancy covers kind Vlad had gotten her- and Jason had practically teleported to her table gushing about the artwork. Then, when he sat down, the two broke into a healthy debate about the characters.

Jazz admitted to him later that she was surprised by a man in a leather jacket with a white streak in his hair and multiple piercings in his ear having such in-depth character analysis of her beloved novel.

They've been hanging out ever since.

"He is fine, thank you." She huffs, typing a response to the text. Danny places his chin on his hand, smiling as her eyes soften. "He asked me to see a play this Friday. Or, well, he said he was going to one and wanted to know if I wanted to come along."

Danny perks up. "Like a date?"

"I don't know. Maybe?" Jazz nervously plays with her hair. "He made it sound like we were just hanging out. Do you think he meant it like a date?"

"It could be either way if he didn't clarify," Danny admits, then smiles to settle her sudden anxiety. She always doubted herself about spending time with people outside the family or Team Phantom. Doubts that were the result of her upbringing. "But why don't we go shopping tomorrow? Get you a nice dress, and I'll do your make-up. Once we're done, he'll wish it was a date!"

Jazz's smile may be wobbly, but it was there, and it was real. They chat more about the play and what she should wear. Danny forgoes any black, claiming it's too fancy for a first date, and trades ideas for her outfit.

Neither notices that the photo has finished uploading or that people are already commenting and losing their minds.

Nor did they notice a particular hacker with the handle- Oracle- attempting to break into his computer only to be booted out by Technus' system. It flings Oracle to the closest computer system that is close to his.

Somewhere deep underground under a particular mansion. Oracle panics, thinking that Phantom piggyback rides her signal to the cave and quickly shuts everything down. She bites her lip before picking up her personal phone and calling Bruce.

"We have a problem."

Else where Tim is helping Dick with an out-of-control gang. He isn't aware that a photo of him has just circulated through Gotham nor of the sudden new simps awaiting him.

(Lady Gotham laughs)

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Danny and The Fan Blog #Part 2 #Dead tired #anger management #Danny is unware of anything always #Also he scared Babs into thinking he knows about the cave #He's just vibing with sister #Jason is unaware the pretty red head is part of the Blog

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