#Volt's ears do this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leaentries · 5 months

Text

desperate | luke hughes

summary: luke’s girl has never had someone go down on her and he’d be damned if he didn’t change that

i believe this was a request but has been in my drafts for months...oops

warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), teasing, begging, swearing

“Fuck, Luke.” You moaned into his lips. His hands gripped your thighs, perched on either side of his lap. You tugged at his thick curls as he trailed his lips down your jaw. He placed hot, wet kisses, making sure to leave a mark.

Luke’s hands traveled up your legs, grasping at your hips. He pulled you further into him, the feeling of his throbbing cock pressed against your core. His lips continued their assault downward, sucking between the valley of your breasts.

You tightly grabbed Luke’s broad shoulders, nails leaving angry red crescents in their wake. His light groans echoed in your ears. He began to work his way back up, dragging his tongue up the column of your neck. Luke pulled away to meet your blown-out eyes with his own. His chest was heaving with anticipation.

“I want to go down on you.” He blurted. Your eyes widened in shock, but the surprise was soon replaced with the timid batting of your lashes. Luke took note of the flush that covered your cheeks and ears. You swallowed thickly.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never had someone go down on me.” You hushed out quickly. It was now Luke’s turn to be shocked. His eyebrows furrowed.

“So you’re telling me no one has ever made you cum on their tongue before?” His crude words made your skin ignite with new desire. Fantasies of Luke’s tongue deep in your cunt flashed through your mind. Your breath picked up, which did not go unnoticed by Luke.

A comforting smile made home on his swollen lips, “I promise I’ll take good care of you, baby. I just want to taste you, I bet you taste like fucking candy.” Luke swiftly flipped you over, laying you down gently.

Sensing the uncertainty in your eyes, Luke reached to lock your fingers with his. “We don’t have to do anything, angel. Not if you aren’t comfortable.” You shook your head.

“No, I want to. I-I’m just a bit nervous, that's all.” Luke placed a long, reassuring kiss on your lips.

“Okay, but if you want me to stop, tell me immediately.” He gave you a slight stare, before quickly removing his shirt. You just nodded in response, mouth going dry at the sight of his toned abdomen. You reached up to drag your hand over the ripples of hard muscle, taking note of every freckle and mark he had.

Luke’s heavy-lidded eyes bore into your own, an unknown flame dancing within the dark pools. He let his fingertips graze from your breasts down, goosebumps rising through each pass. Your hands gripped the sheets by your sides as he reached your panties.

He hooked his fingers through them, slowly slipping them down your legs. He didn’t fail to let his hands drag along the naked skin, sending volts straight to your core. After drawing your feet through, he placed a chaste kiss to the top of each ankle, marking his ascent up your calves.

Luke’s lips dragged teasingly up your thighs, which began to clench out of desperation.

“No, no, angel. Gotta keep those pretty thighs open for me.” He sucked in a harsh breath as you obeyed his demand, eyes glued to your glistening core.

“Fuck me.” You heard him growl lowly, “Such a pretty pussy, all wet for me.”

His words sent waves of electricity through your entire body. Your weeping hole pulsated at the lack of attention, wanting nothing more than Luke to bury his tongue deep inside. Your hips bucked pathetically, begging Luke to help.

“Please, Lukey. I need you so bad.” You whined, becoming restless at his hands that traveled in dangerous patterns around where you needed him most.

He took his lip between his teeth, burying a deep groan that threatened to escape his throat. The sounds of your whimpers making his cock twitch against his shorts.

“Why don’t you ask me nicely, angel. Tell me what you want.” He lowered his face to your dripping core, as more whines left your mouth.

“Please, please Luke! I, fuck,” you panted, “I need your tongue inside me.”

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard.” Luke wasted no time before attaching his lips to your swollen clit. Your back arched as searing pleasure plagued your mind.

“Shit! Lukey,” Almost pornographic moans left your body as you became unable to control your voice.

The sound of Luke’s mouth slurping at your aching cunt filled the room. His tounge danced in circles around your slit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure to drive you insane.

Your eyes rolled back as you brought your hands to Luke’s hair, gripping onto the curls for some grounding. His hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer. His tongue brutally plunged in and out of your entrance.

Your slick pooled around his mouth, causing him to move with ease. Your hips moved of their own accord, grinding into his mouth, helping to ride his tongue.

Luke lifted for a moment, chin covered in arousal. His darkened eyes met yours in a heated match, before he returned his swollen, damp lips to your puffy clit.

Fire swelled in your lower belly, signaling the build of your impending orgasm. You dug your heels into Luke’s lower back as you trapped him between your legs.

Luke reached up with his right hand to intertwine it with your own.

Teetering on the edge, your cunt spasmed around him.

“Gonna cum for me, angel?” He looked up, gazing through his lashes while continuing his abuse to your clit, “Make a mess on my face, pretty girl. I know you can.”

The vibrations of his words were just enough to tip you over. The grip you had on his hand got tighter as your hips arched into his face. White-hot pleasure blinded your senses. Your ears rung as you felt your climax hit you.

Your eyes rolled back once more as your body twitched with orgasmic bliss. Luke continued to devour your cunt until you began to whine from overstimulation.

He pulled back, panting as he sat on his feet. Luke rested his hands on your knees, rubbing soothing circles into your, now sore, legs.

“You’re okay, angel.” He moved around to lay next to you, “Come back to me, baby.” Luke cradled your body, placing sweet kisses on your head until you came down from your high.

As your breath began to even out, you could only say one thing, “Holy fuck.”

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes smut #luke hughes blurb #luke hughes fic #njd #new jersey devils #leawrites💋

1K notes · View notes

idkwhatimdoinghere1655 · 10 months

Text

The Pleasure is All Mine - Carlos Sainz

Another long day over. Thank god for that. You had just pulled into the drive of your house and took your keys out of the ignition. You slowly dragged yourself up the driveway and waltzed through the door, finding Carlos sat on the couch half asleep.

"Hola, querida," he greeted, standing and approaching you. He placed his hands on your hips and tugged you closer to him. "How was work?" he asked, towering over you.

"It was fine, but I am so unbelievably tired," you groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning into a kiss. It was soft, tender and loving to begin with, but it quickly turned hungry and passionate.

His lips moved from your lips, to swiping across your jaw and down your neck, "Baby, not tonight, I'm too tired," you said, pushing him gently away from you by his chest.

"Let me take care of you. You won't have to do a single thing," he smirked, and the glint in his eye told you everything you needed to know. It was soft, yet devilish. It was the look that told you you had nothing to fear, and you were in safe hands.

Carlos had been missing you all day and was counting down the seconds until you got home. It was just one of those days when he needed you more than anything else. It was also one of those days where he knew you needed and deserved to be treated like the princess he thought you were.

Wasting no time, you dove straight back into kissing him and you both fumbled up the stairs and into your bedroom. It wasn't long before you tugged his shirt off over his head and trailed your hands down his chiseled abs.

Your shirt swiftly followed as Carlos' hands moved to behind your back and pinged the clasp of your bra clean off. You quickly shrugged it off of your shoulders and discarded it to the floor. Your nipples pointed to attention as the cold air bit at your skin.

Carlos' lips attached themselves to your neck, peppering kisses and nipping lightly as he made his way down. In their wake, his bites left splotchy, purply-red marks. Sure, nobody would see them, but it was still a small reminder that you were his.

All of the tiredness evaporated out of your body as you felt electrified by the feel of Carlos' hands lips on your skin. You couldn't help but let your hands wander down and try to unclasp his belt, but he gripped your wrists tightly.

"No, not yet. Tonight is all about you, mi amor," he muttered close to your ear, pulling you towards the bed. Gently, he pushed you down so you were sat on the edge of the bed. "Lie down," he instructed, imposingly standing in front of you.

You did exactly as he said and lowered you back down to the mattress as it dipped beneath you. Carlos hooked his fingers into the sides of your pants and underwear, dragging the material down your thighs and calves.

Once they had been thrown to the floor, he took a moment to admire you laying there, all pretty and waiting for him. Your hair was fanned out around your head like a halo, and it made you look like the angel he thought you were. Tonight was all about you, and you were going to know about it.

Carlos placed a hand on either side of your head to support himself as he hovered above you. Leaning over you, he placed a kiss on your forehead, before moving down to your lips, your tongues dancing for a few moments.

Slowly, his lips traveled their way down your body, between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach. He paused underneath your navel for a few moments, his eyes flicking up and locking their gaze onto with yours.

Teasingly, he planted a few kisses along the smooth skin of your thighs, before stopping in front of your heat.

Without anymore hesitation, Carlos licked a long stripe up your dripping folds. His lips attached themselves to your sensitive bundle of nerves and sucked on it, sending volts of electricity zapping through your body. The coil in your lower abdomen started twisting tighter and tighter with his every move.

Involuntarily, you back arched up off the mattress as soft moans escaped your lips. One of Carlos' hands slinked their way up and splayed out on your stomach, pinning you down to the bed. You pressed yourself closer to him, desperate for the extra pressure.

"Someone's needy tonight," he smirked against you, the vibrations of his voice going straight through you and sending shivers up your spine. Carlos knew you weren't in the mood to be teased, and he was here to serve you tonight, so he did exactly as you wanted. He sucked harder, letting his tongue apply extra pressure to you.

He adored how you squirmed under his touch and this was enough to satisfy him any day of the week. You were like his own drug that he was addicted to and could never live without.

With his free hand, he snuck one of his fingers up to your entrance and lightly circled it, but he didn't want to make you wait for too long. He slipped the digit in, gently pumping it in and out, "Shit, Carlos," you mewled, the sound of you moaning his name was enough to make him nearly dinish right then and there.

He slowly added a second digit as it slid in with ease. It was driving you wild, and you were so close to release. You legs dangled over his shoulders, and you were certain your thighs were constricting his head, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

Just as he added a third finger, you felt the coil snap and the tingling sensation of pure and utter ecstasy spread through your entire being. As you came, you cried a tangled mess of Carlos' name and whatever else you could manage out into the room.

Emerging from the foot of the bed, Carlos trapped your lips in another kiss as he grinned against your lips. The taste of your please lingered on his tongue and you could taste it as you kissed him.

You crawled up to him, your hands fiddling with the buckle of his belt as it unclasped. In one movement, you were able to tug his jeans and boxers down to a pool of material at his feet.

His length sprung up, and it was safe to say neither of you could wait much longer. You wrapped your hands around the base, before being shoved away.

"Tonight is all about you, querida. Tell me what you want," he instructed, his finger curled under your chin as he tipped your head up to look at him. "I want you to fuck me," you mumbled, unable to make eye contact with him for some reason.

You weren't used to asking for these things, they usually just happened as the night went on. "What was that? I didn't quite hear you," he mocked, unable to completely avoid teasing you.

"I said I want you to fuck me, Carlos," you assertively said, staring at him dead in the eyes. There was a sparkle of love in them, with tiny fragments of lust scattered throughout.

"Good, now go get comfy," he pointed to the pillows at the top of the bed. You did as you were told and settled yourself in, your head perched atop the pillows.

Soon enough, Carlos was hovering over you again, a few strands of his dark locks dangling in front of his eyes. He took one of your hands and laced his fingers with yours, pinning it beside your head.

Carlos lowered himself down and positioned himself in front of your entrance, the tip excruciatingly teasing you. He was just as impatient as you were, so he slowly slid his way through your slick walls.

As he gently began thrusting in and out, he took great pleasure in the feeling of your walls squeezing around him and the look on your face was priceless to him. He sped up and lunged deeper, hitting that one spot that destroyed all of your self respect and unraveled you.

"Fuck, Carlos!" you cried, the nails on the other hand scratching down his back and leaving red lines down his skin. Every time his dick hit your cervix, you loudly and needily moaned.

You hadn't been going long, but you could already feel you were close. Carlos knew this as he felt you tighten around him, hurrying his orgasm along as well. "Shit Carlos, I'm going to cum," you managed to say, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure you were feeling.

Just as you said it, you came undone beneath him, nearly screaming out. The sounds of you moaning, the look on your face and the feeling of your juices flooding all over him made Carlos cum straight after you did.

Nobody could make him feel the way you did and nobody could make you feel the way he did. You were made for eachother. It was like he was hand-sculpted to be perfect for you and only you, and you were put together piece-by-piece with him in mind.

He buried his head in your neck as he let out deep groans of bliss. After a few more thrusts as you rode out your highs, Carlos flopped down beside you and looked at you.

If you weren't tired earlier, you certainly were now. You were left feeling completely spent, but it was the best purchase you could ever make. But, you still needed dinner. "How does a take out sound?" he asked, running his fingers over the territorial marks on your neck and shoulders.

"Absolutely perfect," you grinned, not feeling like getting out of bed or cooking.

And, maybe after, you could return the favor after an incredible relaxation session. You should be tired more often, you thought. A/N - Idk if I really like this, so let me know in the comments what you think! I just feel like it's a bit cringe... Lmk <3

|masterlist|

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz smut #smu #f1 #f1 x reader #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 x you #ferrari #formula 1 imagines #f1 imagines #f1 drabble #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #f1 smut #formula 1 smut

928 notes · View notes

tsuvvy · 3 months

Text

Oh Sister of Mine - Chapter 1

Your Chance

The Batfamily is getting intel and weapons back from a dangerous villain. But he had a bodyguard. A child bodyguard who didn't really seem interested in their task of guarding the villain. You seemed more interested in killing Cassandra.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, talk of killing, talk of weapons, use of weapons, use of electricity in fighting, cussing, ik Jason and Damian are skilled and can adapt to many different types of fighters, but for the sake of this, they were caught extremely off guard..

Word Count: 3.1k

You looked down at your palms, letting the volts of electricity flicker and surge around your hands. You let out a breath.

This was your one chance. Your one chance to prove to your dad that you weren't a failure. You could kill. You could kill more efficiently and quickly than Cassandra ever could. And you could do it in cold blood, unlike Cassandra who was left disgusted with her first kill.

And you would prove it by killing her.

The moon was bright in the sky, just as the bat symbol was. You stared at it through the window with a kind of hope most didn't have. The hope that you would kill someone that answers to the bat symbol in the sky.

You struggled with speech. You grew up sheltered, only being taught to kill from the moment you were put on the ground to crawl. You were a lot alike to Cassandra. But you were a quick learner. You could quickly pick up on the speech of others, and the body language to decipher a little bit of what the words might mean in different situations.

The words you knew were a small amount that you couldn't get out of your mouth without a bit of struggle.

“No, that Cain guy sent this kid,” you glanced over your shoulder to look at the desk behind you where a man in a nice suit sat. He was lazing around in his chair, his legs kicked up on the desk as he looked at you. You remember your dad calling him Kerrim. Kerrim didn't realize you were looking back, “one creepy ass kid,” he added the remark onto his statement from before. “He said they're one of the best, but I won't buy it till I see it.” He smirked in doubtful amusement.

Orphan, Red Hood, and Robin worked diligently to avoid the cameras of the building and avoid guards that walked around.

Though it wasn't easy.

“I wasn't expecting the guard to be so high up..” Red Hood grumbled, peeking around the corner at a few guards that were speaking in the hallway.

“And what did you expect?” Robin grumbled back, looking up at the man, “That this guy was dumb? No. Someone can't make it this high up into the drug business by being dumb.” He sent a scowl at Red Hood from behind his domino mask.

“Aww, did you just call me smart?” Red Hood smirked from behind his helmet, looking down at Robin.

“Focus.” Orphan reminded the two, “We have to take the guards out, we can't get past them any other way..”

“On it.” Red Hood said.

“Wait-” Red Hood was already turning the corner, immediately alerting the guards to his presence.

“Huh.. Guess someone can get up the drug business by being dumb.” Robin remarked as he watched around the corner with Orphan.

“Intruder!” One of the guards had yelled into his walkie talkie clipped to the breast pocket of his vest. “Intruder in sector G!”

Red Hood was fighting with the other guard. Knocking him off of his feet by kicking under his legs and knocking him unconscious by kicking him in the head.

“Shit!” Red Hood yelled when alarms started going off and red lights started flashing everywhere.

Orphan and Robin looked to the camera above their head they had been in the blind spot of. It was now angled directly towards them.

‘What did you idiots do!?’ Tim yelled through the coms in their ears.

Red Hood had started fighting with the other guard, having a bit of trouble before Orphan rushed forward.

“‘You idiots?’ It was Red Hood!” Robin retorted back into the coms as he too moved around the corner.

Orphan had rushed past Red Hood and landed a flurry of well calculated hits and kicks to the guard. One of the kicks that sent him colliding into the wall knocked him out as well. He slid against the wall falling to the floor.

The three looked down the hall at the sounds of footsteps. Many of them.

“You are an imbecile. An imbecile!” Robin yelled at Red Hood before he turned around the corner again, already running down the hall before Red Hood and Orphan followed.

“Well sorry I was taking initiative!” Red Hood yelled at the kid in annoyance.

“In here!” Orphan called, beckoning the two into a room that looked to be for something like storage. It was big and barren enough to hear an echo.

“They went this way!” The three stopped in the middle of the room, turning to look at the door in anticipation when the guard had yelled that. They expected anyone to walk in at any moment. But they heard a group of bounding footsteps pass the door.

Your head whipped around at the flashing red lights and the alarms sounding throughout the whole building.

“Shit!” Kerrim screamed, jumping out of his seat in an instant, his hands on the desk. “How the hell did they get in without getting noticed!?”

You were practically already at the door. “Hey!” He screamed at you, “Where the hell are you going!!?” But you didn’t respond. You didn’t even acknowledge you. “Get back here, you little rat!!” And you were out the door.

“Damnit!” Kerrim slammed his hands against the desk before whipping around and kicking his swivel chair, which went rolling. His kick barely did anything to the chair. “Cain said you were one of the best!” He yelled after you. Or.. More at the door you had just exited through. “But the best know how to follow orders!”

Kerrim started pacing around the room, grumbling and screaming frustrated curses that also held anxiety for the situation with intruders in the building.

All you could think about was the chance you had just gained. You knew it was her. Or at least someone from the accursed Batman vigilante group. But even if it wasn’t Cassandra. You could get her attention by killing another she cared for.

This is your chance

You have to take it while you have it.

You can't pass this up.

Despite not expecting to meet the intruders almost right outside Kerrim’s office, just down the wide hall. Neither looked to be Cassandra to your disappointment. But you recognized them to be Robin and Red Hood. People affiliated with her.

The three had taken a moment to regroup and catch their breaths before they had slipped out of the storage room door and listened to Tim’s directions to get to Kerrim's office.

Red Hood and Robin froze at the sight of you, but you had already unsheathed your sword with the swiftness and speed equivalent to that of a bird's. They weren't expecting a kid to come out of Kerrim’s office. Especially not a kid that looked to be the same age or younger than Robin.

“What the hell!!?” He screamed, just barely dodging the slashes of your swords. Robin had unsheathed his own sword, raising it and bringing it down to attack you. But you ricocheted the attack, blocking it and throwing the direction of his sword in another before you raised your leg, kicking him in the side and sending him colliding with a wall.

“Who in the hell is this kid!?” Red Hood shrieked, dodging slice after slice of your attacks. For a little kid, you were extremely strong, agile, and obviously professionally trained in fighting. Well enough to be able to have a chance at winning a fight with a grown man twice your size and a boy trained to be an assassin since birth.

‘Their fighting style's familiar..’ Tim muttered into the com. ‘Wait, where did Orphan go?’

You let the electricity conduct into the grip of the sword. It didn’t take too long for it to travel up into the blade, starting to wrap around it. Red Hood raised his gun up, having the intention to use it to block the slice of your sword. But he hadn't expected it to cut through. He felt a shock in his arm, and soon it went numb and tingly for a moment. The half of his gun he still held fell from his hand and collided to the ground.

He jumped back, staring at you from behind his helmet in shock.

The electricity in your sword had traveled into his gun and then his hand to produce the effect that it did.

“Red Hood, are you okay!?” He heard through the coms in his ears.

“Cassandra..” You spoke in a somewhat shaky and strained voice, like you were struggling to speak. “Where.. Is she?” Your voice, apart from the struggle it took to find the words, was somewhat muffled due to the cloth of the mask you wore over your mouth.

“What..?” Red Hood asked, confused. The struggle you had with your speech took him aback.

“Where..” You swallowed, “where is Cassandra.”

Red Hood was at a loss for words. He was confused on how a kid like you that appeared out of nowhere was so skilled with a sword and a power as adept as electricity. He knew children could be good fighters, Cassandra and Robin being prime examples. But you? Something was different about you. Your fighting style was familiar, just like Tim had noticed. But the other thing was.

“How do you know Cassandra?” Robin spoke coldly behind you. Yeah.. That was what Red Hood had been getting to.

You didn't respond, which caused Robin’s brows to furrow and his eyes to narrow on you behind his domino mask.

“Fine, I'll say it again. How do you know who Cassandra is?” His voice was more stern, growing a venom in it that could kill like a Cobra’s.

“Where is she?” Your voice still held that shake and struggle in it.

Something about you reminded Robin of someone. But he couldn't place his finger on who.

Neither of the two watching you noticed the way you were charging up a surge of electricity within your hand. Neither noticed it before you were throwing your arm out towards Robin, shooting it at him.

Robin was caught off guard. He hadn't been expecting you to be able to charge up your ability so quickly. He couldn't move quick enough to dodge it.

Just before it touched his middle, he was being tackled from the side. He looked up in surprise at Orphan.

She was already standing up, directing her attention to you.

“I’m right here,” She told you.

Your eyes widened somewhat, and you turned to look at her better. You couldn’t believe it. There she is. And not in some old picture or low quality one your father had managed to get someone to take. It was her in front of you in the flesh.

You’re taking your chance.

Red Hood lurched forward, thinking your attention was fully on Orphan. Though it wasn’t. You had made sure to keep both Robin and Red Hood in your peripheral vision. A surge of electricity started to travel through your arm before getting to your hand. The surging light seemed to wrap around your arm and now your hand as it traveled. Your palm collided with his stomach. Your touch seemed more gentle, but the powerful shock that seemed equivalent to a defibrillator shocked Red Hood’s insides. He stumbled backward.

His limbs felt numb, the room was spinning, he couldn’t focus and his whole body was in pain.

“Red Hood!” Robin and Cassandra cried, so did Tim within the coms. Red Hood stumbled a bit more.

Your attention was already back on Cassandra. You held your sword in both hands, rushing forward and slicing at the black haired vigilante. She moved quickly, you couldn’t deny it. Quicker than the first two did. Though you could tell you had only caught Robin off guard, you knew he could fight better. But that didn’t matter. Now Cassandra is here. Now she is your priority.

Again, she was quick. She dodged your countless attacks you threw at her with your sword. Robin had gone to Red Hood’s side, checking his pulse.

You swung your sword, but Cassandra slipped under it and rushed forward. Your eyes widened as you saw her hand was going for a pressure point in your wrist, crap. No.. It’s okay. You’re fine. You were trained just like her, if not better. And you have an advantage.

You threw your sword to the side, it was the only option so you could keep control of your hands. If you held onto it, she would have paralyzed your wrists for as long as she felt necessary. Electricity surged and wrapped around your calf, traveling down to your foot. You pushed backwards with that foot, putting your weight on the leg you didn’t have electricity rushing through. You raised your foot, kicking Cassandra with a strength that could knock down one of the heavier training dummies at the Manor’s gym.

Cassandra couched, stumbling backwards for a moment while holding her side you had kicked. She had winced in pain, closing an eye tightly to somehow deal with it. Her side was throbbing, and she knew the electricity had traveled into her arms and legs because she could feel her fingertips throbbing, and her legs had felt weak for a second. But, she recovered quickly. The two of you looked at each other, in some sort of a stand off like you see in those western movies. But two of you were now fighting hand to hand.

“Orphan,” Robin called from the side, Red Hood had recovered some, being able to stand now. But he still looked a bit disoriented.

“Go,” Cassandra said, “I can handle this.”

Robin and Red Hood listened, heading towards the door behind them. You didn’t care. Again, Cassandra is your priority, not them.

“Right.” Robin said, going towards the door. You didn't care about protecting Kerrim. It's not like he meant anything to you. Plus, your father will be proud when you kill Cassandra. Far prouder than if you kept some random drug lord alive.

You lurched forward, immediately catching her attention again. You threw a kick at her which she had dogged and you ducked under the punch she sent at you. You winced when she kicked your side and you caught her leg. You pulled it forward roughly, also pulling Cassandra towards you and let go of her leg; you punched her in the face. Your fist collided with her jaw.

Cassandra ignored the slight pain radiating within her cheek and threw her arms out forward and around you. She wrapped her arms around your middle tightly. You tried to push against her, but she was strong. Stronger than you were really expecting. She pushed you forward until your back hit against the wall of the wide hallway roughly. It hurt and knocked the wind out of you, but you recovered quickly. You raised up your own leg and kicked the heel of the boot you wore into Cassandra’s abdomen. She stumbled backwards, holding her abdomen with one arm, and the other arm was at her side.

She looked at you with a wince on her face, her jaw clenched. You rushed forward and started sending electrified punches and kicks at her, but she dodged them all, some just barely. But she dodged them all.

You were growing more and more frustrated. And with that, your attacks just grew more and more aggressive.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked as she blocked a kick of your’s with her forearm. She couldn’t see your whole face because of the mask you were wearing to at least hide the bottom half of your face. But she could see your eyes. And she saw the way your brows furrowed. She recognized it. She recognized the dim look on your face. She realized it was the one she used to have when she was about your age.

She realized you couldn't understand what she was saying. She felt a pain of empathy fall through her body, landing in her stomach.

You had no idea what she was saying. It sounded like gibberish. But you could tell she was holding back. She wasn’t fighting as well as she could have. Your father made you watch videos of how Cassandra fought when she was your age. She was incredibly skilled, you knew that. And how she was fighting now was that you’ve seen from a novice from the League of Assassins.

Your father realized not long after you grew more of a consciousness for yourself that you had a short temper. You get frustrated easily. And he also realized your meta human ability might be tied with your emotions. You and your electricity got stronger, more relentless, and faster.

And Cassandra had noticed this too. She was amazed with you. You were so young, no older than 14 or maybe 13 and you were already so in control of your abilities. And you were quick. Very quick.

You were about to high kick her in the side of her head, but you made a mistake. You slipped. The foot you put all of your weight on slipped on the ground. Your eyes widened. Cassandra grabbed your wrists and decided on falling with you.

You winced when your back hit the ground roughly. You felt your head knock against the ground roughly as well. Her forearm was against your neck, and she had both of your wrists pinned to the ground above your head. You felt one of her knees pressing firmly against your abdomen, and her other foot was on the ground next to you both, holding her up.

You felt your head pounding, and your eyes grew heavy, no doubt because of it’s collision with the ground. You looked around. Your vision was mixed with spots of different sizes as you looked at the walls and dim lights on the cieling that seemed greatly bright now. Soon, your gaze landed on the woman above you.

Cassandra. Crap.. Cassandra had you pinned to the ground. You need to get up. You need to fight. You need to kill her. You can’t lose, not like this when you’re so close to your mission.

You tried to push against her grip on your wrists, and you tried to push your abdomen up to maybe push her knee off of you, but it wasn’t any use. You were too weak, and you were too tired.

The most you could was charge up a weak volt of electricity into your arms and send them up to your wrists. All Cassandra felt was a tiny shock like static shock from a door or clothing.

Then everything went black..

Chapter Two ->

380 notes · View notes

mercilesstickler · 3 months

Text

Favorite Tickling Techniques - Mine Would Have to Be "Red Dot" Tickling

Given my particular kink, and the friends I've cultivated on this site who share my love of all things tickling related, I've gotten several messages asking the same question - "What do think is the most effective tickling technique?" Well the real answer is...it depends. Based on my experience, and assuming you have a highly sensitive ticklee, my mind inevitably goes right to what I call, "The Red Dot Technique".

Let me explain...

Here is the setting - highly sensitive ticklee, 4 poster bed (or something similar), Lee tied spread eagled using 8 ties (wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts - then add a tie to each elbow and knee and secure to the side of the bedframe) complete and total immobility. Teasing is ESSENTIAL here. Tie her slowly, firmly but gently...then smile at her and reveal a red satin blindfold....place it on her to significantly heighten her nervousness and sensitivity. Then pour yourself a drink, sit on the bed next to her and chat...tell her you are just going to admire her body while you plan out your next moves...casually remark..."You have nothing to be nervous about...unless you're ticklish..." Watch as she tries to squirm away and begins to freak out a bit...now the negotiating begins...then as she is trying to convince you not to tickle her...you begin. Starting with her palms and ending with her soles you slowly explore every single inch of her helpless body. Nibbling, tickling...doing anything to elicit laughter. As you find an especially explosive spot....one which elicits that beautiful squealing "volts of electricity through the body" tickle response, you take out a soft tipped red pen...and you make a very tiny dot on that spot. Then you move on. By the end of this adventure you will have an exhausted ticklee...and a complete map of her absolute worst tickle spots.

This is where the real fun begins....after letting her rest for a bit...kissing her gently...refreshing your drink...you take out one of her favorite vibrators...she hears the buzz...you lie next to her and whisper in her ear, "So here is what is going to happen....I'm going to slowly bring you to a long, wonderful orgasm...you are going to cum like you never, ever have before. Then, after you cum and are lying there in that wonderful post-orgasm hypersensitivity, I'm going to slowly tickle you again...only this time I'm only going to tickle the parts of your body with the red dots. And then it begins....you slowly arouse her with the vibrator. As you do you whisper in her ear, "Don't you dare cum...don't you dare..." Of course this only makes her cum faster. When she does, you give her a long, deep kiss...and whisper in her ear, "You just lie back and relax sweetie. I'm going to do some exploring..." And round 2 of the tickling begins...and then it becomes an evening or orgasm...red dots...orgasm...red dots...You get it.

That's the most effective technique I know...

#tickling #tickle content #tickle scenarios #tickletorture #ticklish #tickled

201 notes · View notes

heartfullofleeches · 10 months

Text

Damsel in Duress

Yan Damsel + G.N Reader blurb

"My hero~"

Closing shift was a drag. Cooped up behind the counter till dawn - the store watched you more often than not until you were "graced" with the chance of another living soul walking through those doors. Your saving grace from the monotonous life of a gas station cashier was a patron on the rise in frequent appearance.

A cosplayer, you assumed - from their style of dress and the whimsical way they carried themselves in mannerisms and speech. You got a good laugh out of seeing them weave through tiny, narrow aisles in those giant, puffy gowns they dawned. Damsel is what you called them which - by coincidence apparently seemed to be their name. Another reason for the title beyond their attire was they couldn't do a thing on their own. Asking for sliced apples when they were standing in the very same aisle fruits were stocked. Questioning the proper ways to use a fork and if you'd teach them with demonstration. To every task you helped them with they thanked you with the tagged on honorific of "My Hero" at the end. Getting into character was one thing, but sometimes it really did feel like they just popped out of the pages of a fairytale.

It's getting pretty late. You wonder where your entertainment is-

Bang!

Sharpened nails scrap across the glass doors still rattling in their frames. Blood red as the cloak masking their features; you watch as the hand welding the crimson talons yank the door's handle and flings their blood inside. It leans against the frame - barricading the doors as footfalls rebound in the distance. Expressionless- their eyes well with tears as they scan the store finding you where you always were.

"Lock it...."

You remove your headphones. "What?"

Their lips quiver, voice rising with a hick. "He's coming... Lock the door!"

A shadow creeps over the parking lot. Reaching for your keys, you volt over the counter as it runs for the door - crouching beneath Damsel as they apply all their weight against it to keep it shut as the handle shakes violently. You lock the door, keys knocked out of your hand as the figure throws himself against the door, and drag them away from it as you stand. Their face falls against your shoulder - the scent of copper flooding your nose.

"You fucking bitch! I'll kill you!"

Damsel shrieks, assaulting yet another of your senses as it drills through your ears. They latch onto your shirt.... Weren't their nails longer a second ago? They meet your gaze - face washed in fresh tears and bruises. "Help me.... please help me... I was on my way here when that man and his friend offered me a ride. I said no, but - they started to chase me and....and..."

Damsel breaks off in a quiet sob. You squeeze their shoulders reassuring, backing towards the back office eyes trained on the man pounding on the doors "Calm down. My phones in the back and the door to the other entrance only opens from inside. We'll hide there until the police arrive."

The man presses his face against the glass, the skin of his knuckles worn down as he beats the door. "What the hell are you doing? Get out away from that thing! It killed him. Dont belive anything it-"

Damsel tucks at your arm. You tear your attention away from the door and push them towards the office. Dragging them inside the break room you shove the coffee table against the door for good measure and fish out your jacket and phone from your locker. You throw the coat over their shoulders, dialing the police as you hand them some napkins to wipe their face.

"Breathe. We'll be fine in here. I'm calling for help now and they'll make sure nothing happens to you."

Damsel dabs at their eyes - faint smile dipping at your conclusion. "I'm not worried now that you're here... Guess you really are my hero aren't all, aren't you? I've never seen anything like that before, one second he was the kindest person and the next - he was like a rabid wolf."

"It's okay... You're safe now." You drape an arm behind their hood, consoling them as they hiccup and sob against your chest. You chalk the wind exiting your lungs as they latch onto you the ending results of your physical exhaustion, and retain a calm voice as you speak to the operator over the phone. Damsel squirms in their chair as you hang up.

"They're on the way... are you okay?"

Damsel fiddles with the strings of their hood. "I um.... have to go powder my nose."

"What?"

They bite their lip, face hidden in your jacket. "Use the bathroom? I know the only one here is outside so you don't have to come with me... It'd actually make me feel better if you stayed in here."

"Damsel, I cant-"

"I-it's alright, Y/n.... Long as my hero's safety is assured I'll be okay. I'm sure he's gone by now anyway. Do you mind if I keep your jacket?"

"...No... If anything happens - you scream and run, got it?"

"It's what I do best. I hope that someday there's something I can do to rewards your braver... For now...I'll leave you with this" Damsel springs from their seat and kisses your cheek as they pass. They push the table out of the way with surprising ease, looking back at you as they open the door. They smile - locking the door behind them and snapping the key.

Damsel steps out into the station. They walk past the bathroom and inspect the collection of household necessities your store had to offer. Could be better, but they'd made due. It grabs a pocket blade, ripping open the package and leaving it on the counter along with the exact bills and change for their purchase. The man is still there - eyes now wide fear. Damsel grins at him with a small wave.

"Oh!- Hello, glad to see your still here. I was going to let you go - but then you had to go and do a nasty thing and try to turn my hero against me. They're very brave - aren't they? I'm such a lucky traveler. Hmmmm.. so I'm the hood in this story and they're the hunter... What exactly does that make you? Mmm, I think I know...."

"The slaughter."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #tw yandere #yandere god

502 notes · View notes

yes-i-am-happyaspie · 6 days

Note

OK OK BUT JOY, the prompt: “If you die, I die. Don’t you get that!” Between Irondad?! Either way! ASDGHJKL ANGST

AHHHH!!! Mini-fic time?? Yes. Yes, Mini-fic time.

Here it is, at 997 words. A lot of action, leading to a short panic-induced argument... and a hug. Because of course, there is a hug. :D Enjoy!! [click here for a reversed use of this prompt]

If You Died...

Peter hadn’t meant to get in over his head. It was just- he needed to keep his neighborhood safe, and he had powers. It wasn’t like he could see a problem and just walk away. But he had been careful. He’d used his tools and his abilities to access the situation. He’d asked his AI to run facial recognition on everyone involved and had cross-referenced their information through several databases; just to make sure he knew what he was up against.

Three regular guys, selling regular drugs inside a regular empty warehouse. That was it. Nothing about it had been alarming or ominous. So, taking them out should have been easy. And technically it was. It was the swarm of armed individuals that had flooded in after that had been the problem. He had that too for a while. Then the big guys came in. Three of them, with large shoulders and enhanced strength that matched his own. He was having a difficult time dividing his attention between the projectiles and the hands being aimed at his face.

“Karen?” He dodged, while shooting webs that never seemed to hit their mark. When they did, they never held for long. The big guys busted right out of them. “A little back up would be nice.”

“Of course, Peter. Contacting Mr. Stark.”

Peter ducked and slid beneath one of the large men’s legs. “Wait! Isn’t- Is Captain America available?” He spun around, sending his foot into the guy's knee cap. The impact made no difference; like a child kicking a fencepost. “Maybe Black Widow? Hawkeye?”

There was no debate. “Mr. Stark is already in route.” Three dots appeared on his HUD along with an ETA.

Peter wanted to fret over his mentor's imminent arrival but there wasn’t time. Whenever he thought he had one of the men restrained, they broke free and he had to start over again. One down, two to go. Two down, one- no, still two to go. It was a vicious cycle.

Ten minutes later a blast came from the right. A hole appeared in the wall and Iron Man, gauntlets ablaze, flew through it. Peter looked up. The momentary distraction allowed enough time for a football sized fists to make contact with his stomach. He flew backwards, through a spray of ammunition, and landed in the wall.

The comms crackled to life. Peter wished they hadn't. Pain was already radiating from the back of his skull down and down his spine. When Mr. Stark shouted his name, his ears began to ring. Dazedly, he looked up. Mr. Stark was swooping around the room. Metal clanked and repulsors whirred. Peter struggled to get to his feet to help. Mr. Stark’s voice was back in his ears.

“Stay down, Spider-Man! You’re done!”

Peter blinked. He took stock of his body. The blow had hurt, but he had enhanced strength and a healing factor. He shook out his limbs and demeaned himself well enough to continue. “I’m good. Just a little-”

He didn’t get to finish. Mr. Stark flew by, lifted his faceplate and scowled. “I said you’re done!”

The tone gave Peter pause. Reluctantly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. “I’m really okay,” he whispered, despite his throbbing head.

“And I’m really not discussing this will you,” Mr. Stark quipped. “I’m just about done here. You stay put. Capice?”

Peter nodded and looked around. Most of the little guys had fled. And only one of the larger men remained standing. Clearly his webbing needed an upgrade. Maybe taser webs with a manual detonation. A range of fifty to ninety thousand volts would probably do it. Could the suit handle that without increasing the power? He was unable to finish the math before Mr. Stark was in front of him.

“Let’s go.”

Peter allowed himself to be lifted to the top of a nearby water tower. He pulled his mask off and ran a hand over his sweaty forehead. “Mr. Stark, I-”

“Do you have any idea who those people are, what they’re capable of?” Mr. Stark gestured wildly toward the warehouse.

Peter shifted his feet. “I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t know? Of course you didn’t. Did you even stop to ask?” Mr. Stark wrapped his fingers tightly around his wrist. “There were two dozen lacheys and three giant bruises in there! What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t- it was three normal guys when I started!” he half-shouted. It wasn’t his fault, but Mr. Stark didn’t look keen to listen. “The others just- showed up!”

Mr. Stark took a step forward. “You could have died in there, Peter!”

“I wasn’t going to die!” he defensively shouted. “I have super-powers and I did call for back-up!”

“Your AI said you had been going at it for over an hour before you called! Peter-” Mr. Stark looked frantic with his hands running through his hair. “Peter, I don’t know how to explain this to you any more clearly. I-” His face dropped, all blood draining from his face. “What if you had died? Then what?”

Frustrated, Peter gritted his teeth. “It’s on you.”

Mr. Stark blinked. “No. No, bud. That’s not- geez.” he pinched the bridge of his nose, his breaths increasing as he spoke. “Pete. If you die, I die! Do you get that? If you die- I will never recover. I will-”

Peter’s brows furrowed with realization. Mr. Stark was having a panic attack. “Are you okay, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark’s head shot up, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Peter stepped closer, his hand going to the back of his hair. “My head hurts but that’s it..”

Without warning, he was pulled into a tight hug.

“Just- promise me you won’t wait so long to call for help next time. Because- Peter? Peter, I can’t lose you.”

Eyes closed tight, Peter nestled his face into Mr. Stark's chest. “I promise, Mr. Stark. You won’t lose me.”

#thanks for the ask!#happyaspie mini fic #peter parker #tony stark #irondad and spiderson #iron man #spider-man #marvel #mcu #light angst #peter parker gets a hug #panic attack #irondad

72 notes · View notes

vukovich · 7 months

Text

24K9

A daily(?) kinktober Tumblr fic. Will post to AO3 on American Thanksgiving, 2023.

Harry is a K9 unit Auror. Draco is the Ministry Kennelmaster. How could that possibly lead to anything?

Tags: collaring, top Draco, sensual pet play, touch starved Harry, bathing, shaving, rescue dog feels, other tags TBA, maybe dark draco ending?, maybe werewolves?, definitely coming untouched though, just blasting rope man

Chapter One

“I assure you, Auror Potter,” drawled the Patronus, speaking even before it found its full form, “there is nothing wrong with your partner.”

Malfoy’s tone was patronising, as though he were telling Harry that the monsters under his bed weren’t real, and to go back to sleep.

Next to Harry’s desk, his ‘partner’ had managed to catch his tail and was currently gnawing on it with nothing short of ardour. K9 Auror Wurst, aka RottWurst, clamped down on his fluffy tail so hard, Harry swore he heard a crunch.

The bright fog condensed into a direwolf the size of a modest pony. It was the perfect symbol for Draco Malfoy. A pale, leggy, sharp-toothed relic of another time.

“And I assure you,” Harry spat, “Kennelmaster Malfoy, that this mutt’s fucking touched in the head.”

The mutt in question was eighty-plus pounds of Rottweiler-poodle abomination. He looked like a St Bernard had dug into an avalanche, missed the humans, and hit a thousand-volt power line instead. The curly white fur on his belly was caked with mud, and his brown muzzle still had bits of grass clippings on it. The rest of him was black, save his brown eyebrows and speckled ears.

“He keeps alerting to sex magic, not dark magic. It’s fucking embarrassing. Dragged me across Hyde Park. I had to use a Confundus on him to get him back to the office.”

The direwolf was so still that Harry blinked twice to make sure the shape wasn’t burned into his retinas. It was a bloody showboat of a Patronus.

It was so bright that it brought out the dinginess of Harry’s office. The yellow carpet had a pale brown trail between the door and Harry’s desk chair. The corners of the ceiling had cobwebs, and the baseboards held an unhealthy amount of dust.

The fresh dog piss on the floor didn’t help things.

“I mean, he’s not worthless,” Harry added. “But Robards said he can’t reassign him to Vice. That he doesn’t have that authority. So it must be you who has to do it.”

It was a little risky to bypass Robards the way he had, contacting Malfoy directly. He probably should have made an appointment with his assistant or something.

But he’d been angry, so he’d pulled an interdepartmental priority Howler out of his desk and sent it.

There was probably a DMLE protocol for contacting a member of the Wizengamot. There was a DMLE protocol for everything but wiping his arse. Actually, they probably had one for that, too.

Harry blinked again. His eyes were dry. He was on hour seven of a twelve-hour shift. After this, he’d get another coffee.

The direwolf shifted its weight, then leaned back, hindquarters high, in a deep stretch. Its paws spread out in front of it.

Harry wondered if Malfoy was actually stretching. And what that might look like.

It’d been years since he’d seen Malfoy in person. Just in the papers, and only in the background of Wizengamot photos. He’d been called to his Wizengamot seat the day after his thirtieth birthday, having met the minimum age. They hadn’t called Hermione to hers until she was thirty-two. She’d die mad about that.

The direwolf laid down, then yawned.

Harry yawned.

Wurst yawned. Then farted.

Harry thought to check the time. 2:30 AM, according to his wristwatch. He’d been on the clock for fourteen hours. Not seven.

“Shit,” Harry said.

He’d woken a member of the Wizengamot at 2:30 AM. And an important one.

The direwolf sighed and tucked its muzzle under its paw. Harry held his breath. Maybe Malfoy would fall asleep.

Maybe he’d doze off, and he’d think he dreamt he got a Howler in the middle of the night from a burnout beat cop at least six rungs below him. Maybe.

The direwolf sighed again, then drifted away like will-o'-the-wisps on the wind.

Maybe Malfoy wouldn’t report this.

Maybe.

Maybe Robards wouldn’t kill him.

He drummed his fingers on his desk. If he did get written up, it’d be his sixth this year. Two of them were for failing to meet dress code, but the shaving regulations were stupid, and the hygiene one was just weird.

Still.

Wurst looked at him. He looked at Wurst.

Nothing would happen. His talk with Malfoy had only lasted a few seconds. He’d think it was a dream.

It would be fine.

“It’ll be fine,” Harry told Wurst, ignoring the sweat on his palms.

Wurst’s nostrils flared, and then an ivory envelope slid under the door. It sat on the grimy carpet for a moment, then folded itself into a swan. With a few wingbeats, it landed on Harry’s desk and unfolded itself.

Inside was a business card.

Draco L Malfoy Wizengamot Member, Kennelmaster Warminster BA13 4SH UK

“Shit,” Harry said.

He flipped the card over. On the back was an appointment date and time. Tomorrow.

“Fuck.”

Robards was going to kill him.

#drarry #kinktober #but like DIY kinktober #kinktober parallel play #you can hide anything in the tags #nobody can stop you #my tags are so big because they're full of secrets #24k9

270 notes · View notes

spicyclover · 1 year

Note

An you do one for lando Norris where you tell him it’s ok to fuck with out a condom for the first time and letting him cum in you

On your lips, half volt.

Context: In the paddock after being frustrated for quite some time.

Summary: From your skin to my skin, I keep the scent I still know, from your body, by heart, the drawing On the bare wire of that night, I stand Ready for all my love, it’s so good!

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section! And to support me by tipping me!

Little information, I will, for now, only post on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

WARNING: smut +18

You didn’t wait very long for him. He returned to hospitality soon after finishing the three interviews he was supposed to do, his eyes set on you. He approached you and flopped onto the couch of his driver's room, setting his head on your lap.

You ran your hand through his messy curly hair, which was getting pretty long. He shut his eyes and relaxed, letting you play with his hair. He always loves having your hands on his head. He often gets headaches, and your fingers' warmth always makes him feel better.

On time, he even calls you a witch after you miraculously cured him of his headache by massaging him gently for several minutes. Obviously, you laugh, knowing very well that you didn't do anything but help him relax, which was what he actually needed.

Distracted, you started braiding a small chunk of it, and he grumbled a little when he understood what you were doing. You laughed at him and set your hand on his jaw, tracing over it with your fingertips. You lock eyes with each other. Sometimes you still fail to realize that this human loves you truly, deeply and intensely.

You still remember the first time you did it. You’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, and you both had very strong feelings about each other.

You start caressing him while reaching down for his sex. You feel his growing excitement and his limb getting hard through his suit, which, let’s be honest, doesn’t leave much room for imagination.

For the past few weeks, you haven’t had much time to spend with each other. And it must be said that you are in need; lack of him, of his kisses, of his skin against yours, of his penis in your entrance, of his faint growls of excitement. You can’t take it anymore. You need him now.

You touch his limb, and you feel his breath intensifying to the rhythm of your touch. His lips find their place in your neck, which he does not hesitate to mark as his own. You let out small sounds of pleasure between your lips that are glued to his ear.

You stoke him, losing no time. You know you don't have much time to get what you need, what you want.

"Babe," he whispers, trying to slow you down.

"Don't!" You take his suit and undo it. Making sure that he is left only with his fireproof shirt and his boxer. "I need you, Lan. I need you inside me!"

"Oh"

"Oh? What oh?" You ask stopping a minute to look at him.

"I don't have anything with me."

"What?"

"I don't have any condoms. Everything is at the hotel." He explains, quite embarrassed.

"Okay, and?" You kiss again, not waiting for the answer. Rubbing your bare skin against his.

"Well..." He sighs, putting his mouth away from you.

"Lando, you have two choices; you either fuck me right here and now hard and bare, or I go back to London, and you won't touch me for the next six months to know what it's like to be in need."

You give him the ultimatum, and you don't have to wait too long before Lando pushes himself in you. You heard the sigh of pleasure when his bare member encountered your intimate cunt for the first time. It's strange for you too. To feel him so close to you. Like they're nothing else after this. You can't be more naked than this.

It feels amazing. You're riding him, but it's Lando who gives the rhythm. With your hands on his chest, you try to keep yourself on top. His hands are on your hips, bruising them.

"I'm not going to last long," he says, out of breath.

You pull out of him and get up. You look at him, and he knows what to do. You enjoy quickies some times, and now it's the time. Fuck from being is the thing that turns you on and makes you come the most.

Lando pushes your legs apart and takes hold of your hips. Pushing himself again inside you. You feel him different, more animal, and you love it. You can't help yourself to whimpers his name, making his ego up. You are against the wall, holding on the best you can.

Now, you don't care if people can hear or not. You're having the time of your life after waiting for two weeks. You feel his hand touching your clit, doing circles, making your brain fuzzier. One hand on the wall, the other on one of Lando's arms. Lando is the full support of this session. You can't barely stay standing; how he makes you feel so good.

You bite your lips, trying to quiet yourself down. Lando accelerated candor by feeling his orgasm come. His hand stimulates your clitoris to the maximum and his penis sucks you from end to end by touching each of his thrusts on your G-spot. He feels that your vagina retracts and sucks it in.

"Lan... Land... Lando." Trying to phrase your sentence. "I want you to cum... to cum inside... inside me."

"What? He asks, out of breath."

"I want you to cum inside me!"

You feel your words have a radical change in his attitude, and he doesn’t waste time. His outbursts are a little more irrational, and you’re both on end. Your orgasm is there. Overwhelming you and him at the same time. You can’t help but shout his name and how good he does you.

He covers your mouth with his hand. He bends you more, and you hold on as best you can. He pushes you one last time. His seed is released in you, and you moan between his fingers. He finally breeds you, really breed you. Still in you, he pushes you back to the couch, and he drops himself in. His hand always keeps you close to him.

"Wow... That's the sexiest thing we have ever done." He exclaims as he giggles.

"I think that from now on, you will always cum in me. You were exceptional, and it’s been so fucking long since I wanted you like this."

"Tonight, am fucking you out! You won't be able to walk tomorrow, baby," he mumbles, trying to catch he's breath.

"Fuck! Cum in me every time if it means you take me so well."

#lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fluff #smut #fluff

716 notes · View notes

levmada · 9 months

Note

can i pls request a lil something with the sit prompt from the smut prompt lists with levi and afab gn reader pls? with reader being in levi’s lap preferably <3

yesss of course😌 to be gn i didnt mention reader's upper half and underwear. i hope that's what you had in mind!<3

[ SIT ] for one muse to finger the other who sits in their lap fully clothed, keeping an arm around their waist to make them stay still.

modern/college au, edging, teasing and teasing, fingering | 0.7k

His hand, clamped to your mouth, has long-since grown hot and moist from your shallow gasps and pinched whimpers. You lick his palm and feel the satisfying scrape of callouses against your tongue in one more pitiful act of rebellion against keeping you quiet, because—and he never fails to stress with two fingers moving in your cunt—a very important documentary for your very important chemistry class plays on TV in front of you.

You know he's full of it. You both know he is, or else finally laying his palm flat on your pussy earlier wouldn't have been the way he dealt with your complaints about watching a boring documentary for your boring chemistry class.

To anyone else, you're just laying astride in his lap. There's no way to tell what he's doing, if anything, under the thick fleece blanket thrown over the both of you.

"If your roommate were here"—Levi curls his fingers as he murmurs in your ear—"you would've got us caught twenty minutes ago."

Your nostrils flare. You can't rebuke him, but you find it hard to believe Levi is paying enough attention to what is playing to know it's been twenty minutes. But then you lose even your thoughts as a third finger slithers under the crotch of your wet shorts and dips inside you with ease.

You squeeze your eyes shut. "Mm."

The fingers closed on your mouth loosely spread. "What was that segment about?"

"U-Uh, I don't—"

His thumb taps your swollen and neglected clit. You about sob. "I don't know," you babble.

You lean your temple against his, gripping his bicep. It's his fault that you're squirming like this, how you can't help but shiver and tense up when he gives the slightest inclination he's going to finger-fuck you faster.

"You know how to ride my fingers, but not how to listen?"

He pumps them quickly for an explosive moment, making you writhe in his lap. Only to whine pitifully when he slows again to a crawl. He kisses your jaw sweetly.

"I'm—"

He clamps his hand over your lips again. "I know you're close. Why do you think I'm teasing you like this?"

The implications of that could either be torturous or amazing, if he feels like taking pity on you.

Well, if his idea is to edge you until the documentary ends, you decide to change his mind in advance.

Subtly, gruelingly, you grind your ass down on his lap. He warned you about that earlier, but it's a risk you're willing to make at this point.

His teeth hook on your tender neck, and whichever out of many marks he's left in the past "twenty minutes".

"Fuck," he huffs. "You're impossible. You know that?"

"Mhm."

“Mhm?” His lidded eyes take in the state of you with a cool look.

“Mm…”

With a forced huff for being inconvenienced, he kisses you.

He's always so in-control. Shifting you into his lap proper, right where he wants you without disturbing the blanket, and in doing nothing but inhaling sharply as you bring his heavy cock out of his sweatpants. His gasp is like a volt of electricity against your neck.

"How long have you been this hard, baby?" you giggle secretively.

With a hand on your cheek, he brings your lips together. "How long have you been dripping all over my fingers?"

Your eyes flutter closed as the heavy girth of him slides through your lips. For a moment, your mutual teasing evaporates all together. Levi grips your hip, smearing your wetness, as if all of his true desperation is concentrated to his hand.

"Please," you whisper to his sweaty temple as his hips rock forward.

His cool silver eyes gaze into you knowingly. "We could fuck for the rest of the runtime and you would've retained none of it."

"I love Google almost as much as you fucking me."

He scoffs, offset by a soft gasp as his tip presses into your rim, and slides in. "Idiot... I can't tell if that's a low bar or not."

"Mm... I love you more than anything?"

Your eyes meet, barely lidded as your insides flutter and part around him, until you rest comfortably in his lap.

"Decent save."

The narrator is reiterating something about the potency of liquid nitrogen now. You'd laugh if you were listening to it, and not Levi's soft, stuttered moan as he thrusts hungrily into you. The documentary won't have your attention back for the rest of the night.

| levi masterlist | main masterlist |

#levi smut #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x you #captain levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n smut #captain levi x reader #aot levi smut #levi ackerman drabble #2.5k.event

172 notes · View notes

drops-of-moonlights · 2 months

Text

Next with the redesigns we get to the WarioWare cast! which oh god there's so many people here what the fuck! anyways! Here we have basically the cast of the og with two from later games. The Warioware cast designs are peak so not a lot is changed, but hey, I still changed some things, so let's get to them! (shoutout to the official WarioWare website it was so useful!)

Mona and Joe are the easiest since they keep themselves more or less the same - still the deliverywoman extraordinaire and her lovable boss. Mona here like everyone else is a bit older - a college student, majoring in archaeology, and has upgraded from a scooter to a motorcycle (quite literally upgraded, Crygor took her scooter and turned it into a bike). Joe keeps himself more or less the same, except a bit afraid of losing the best employee he ever had.

The man with the beat Jimmy T and the silly lil alien, Orbulon! With the former I just added some stars on his pants and also gave him melanin, because frankly the bright colors work better with darker skintones and the Mario cast is pale as milk, some variety is nice. for Orbulon I just put him in his human disguise's cute little minidress, because we stan a gender-non-conforming king. Fun trivia: Jimmy has beef with Waluigi over who has the better dance moves. They get along otherwise but if there's dancing happening it is ON. SIGHT.

Diamond Taxi's speed demons, Dribble and Spitz! I similarly didn't change much, just more detail on shoes, Dribble wearing his coveralls differently, and their earrings, which are actually their wedding rings, because look at me in the eyes and tell me these two aren't fucking. that's right you can't. Spitz finally got to publish his novel! It's doing better than Dribble expected.

Mad Scientist and Beleaguered Karaoke Robot Assistant Duo, Crygor and Mike! The levels at which Crygor is a cyborg vary SO OFTEN I just gave him the full helmet, a robotic left hand and a robotic foot. Mike I only changed up a smidge and changing his face to an LED display for better emoting. Still Penny's loving grandfather, he's gently trying to steer her towards a focus on the mechanics rather than chemistry, believing that she can achiever her idol dreams without having to rely on questionable homemade beverages. Mike on the other hand encourages to focus more on chemistry out of the selfish desire she can make a drink that will give HIM a perfect singing voice lol.

Nintendo Fanatics 9-Volt and 18-Volt! For fun I gave them the real names of Nikola and Edison. Now middle schoolers, they still enjoy skating and Nintendo games. I did the same with 18-Volt as what I did with Jimmy T. 9-Volt's helmet is more clearly a firefighter helmet - it's his dad's old model that he gifted to him.

And to finish it off, Kat and Ana! I wanted both of them to have more unique color palletes, and as a further distinction Kat has freckles. Like the rest they're a bit older, now elementary-school kids, and while he's not in this post they also get along a LITTLE better with Leo.

#Drops's Art #Drops's Super Mario #WarioWare #Mona #Joe #Jimmy T #Orbulon #Dribble #Spitz #Dr. Crygor #Mike (WarioWare)#9-Volt #18-Volt #Kat (WarioWare)#Ana (WarioWare)

67 notes · View notes

dxckgrxsonx · 1 year

Note

We need Jason fucking the reader in her sleep I’m begging you

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 900ish Warnings - SMUT 18+ - CNC (Consensual non-consent) - Somnophilia (Sex whilst Sleeping) - Unprotected Sex - Porn no Plot - Dirty Talk - Swearing. Notes - Well, this is a little different to what I usually write lmao. Please please please don't read this if any of the warnings make you uncomfortable.

MASTERLIST

He can’t sleep.

Unconsciousness settles vague and thin and just out of his reach. He feels the tug of it behind his eyes but it’s not enough to pull him under. He thinks it’s like drinking coffee before going to sleep, it's having your body tired but your mind awake and buzzing like a thousand of volts of electricity.

He’s restless and sinking quickly into frustration.

Jason thinks of getting up, of sitting on the sofa with a book and a warm cup of tea. He thinks of cleaning his weapons and letting his brain unravel at the seams just enough to start yawning.

He thinks of fucking his fist pretending its your soft, wet cunt.

Beside him, you catch his attention when you shift, face away from him and hook one leg out at an angle. It spreads you open just enough that Jason can see your pretty little pussy peeking out around the side of your underwear.

The blood in his body immediately drains south and Jason’s head feels light, almost weightless. He rubs his palm over the front of his boxers and feels his cock fatten up, feels it twitch hard and strain against the fabric in wanting.

You sigh softly in your sleep, snuggle down into your pillow and go still.

Jason reaches out, strokes his fingers up the length of your spine until he reaches the back of your neck. Not once do you stir and he takes it as a sign to keep going, to push it a little further and see if you react.

To see if you wake up.

He trails his fingers back down, smooths them over your waist, then your hip, and along the elastic of your underwear. Shifting to face your back, Jason walks his hand up the back of your thigh and rubs the part of your pussy showing around the edge of the soft cotton fabric. He doesn’t quite catch your clit, just strokes your folds until you start to get damp.

The power trip has his body humming, has his brain fired up in the same way it gets when he’s in the middle of a fist fight he knows he’s going to win. It’s thrilling to have total control and the fact that you give that control to him willingly has his nerves touching the edge of the earth.

Shoving his boxers down far enough to let his cock spring up, Jason pulls your underwear to the side. Spitting on his fingers he brings them to your glistening pussy and rubs through your slit, gets you wet enough to push two fingers into your warm hole.

Your shoulders flex when he crooks his fingers and drags over your sweet spot but you remain asleep.

Jason scissors his fingers, opens you up and stretches your clenching little hole out. Adding a third finger he feels you gush, arousal surging around his fingers and making it easier to slide in and out of you. Thumbing at your swelling clit he feels your thigh twitch and spread out further, more wetness coating his fingers.

Pulling his fingers free Jason slots his front to your back, wraps a hand over your hip for a sense of stability. He watches your face, catalogues the quiet little sigh you let out and the way your hand clumsily reaches backwards for him.

Still searching for him even when sleeping.

Jason smudges a tender kiss behind your ear and even in your sleep your mouth hooks up at the edges.

Fisting his aching cock, Jason presses the fat, blunt head at your entrance. His precum smears over your hole and your wetness quickly leaks over his cock. Flexing his hips he pushes forwards, sinks the tip of his cock into your grasping pussy.

Resting his forehead against the back of your neck he chokes on a moan when your soft walls milk the sensitive, flushed head. Rocking into you further he sinks in, inch by inch until his hips are flush to your ass.

Your mouth parts and you make a small little noise.

Jason presses his lips to your ear, shushes you softly, “S’okay my sleepy little girl, jus’ need to fuck you, ‘kay?” Grinding his cock into your perfect pussy Jason’s eyes roll into the back of his head, bliss notching into every vertebrae along his spine. “Jus’ need to come in your tight little hole, baby. Can’t sleep and your pretty pussy s’made for taking my cock.”

Pulling back until his tip remains inside you he pushes forwards again, fucks you slowly, carefully, trying not to wake you up even though he knows you won’t mind. Settling into an easy rhythm Jason uses one hand to spread you open, to give himself more room to work.

He slides into you easier, more fluidly, and you whine, eyelids fluttering.

“I know, baby. I know.” Jason coos. “Feels good and you don’t know why. Don’t worry, m’almost there. Y’gonna wake up all wet and sticky with my come leaking out of you. Gonna wake up and realise I fucked you whilst you were sleepin’.”

You slur something in response and Jason stuffs his cock as far into your pussy as he can.

“Shh, baby.” He whispers. “You keep having your nice dreams whilst I use you, yeah?”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you smut #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader smut #red hood x you smut #jason todd smut #red hood smut #this fought me at every turn #which is why it ends kinda abruptly #I am classing this as OOC in my head #but I can’t deny that it’s hot #ella writes

737 notes · View notes

mamawasatesttube · 11 months

Note

11 timkon for the devotion ask 😁

11. “I’ve already died once. I would do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe.”

also prompted by @blueforget-me-not, @cas-and-their-refusal-to-write, and @chaoxfix !! (phew this one's popular!)

"Absolutely not."

"Tim—"

Tim whirls on him, glaring. "You," he hisses, jabbing one finger into the S-shield on Kon's chest, "are vulnerable to magic. That thing," and he points at the unnatural, glowing storm raging outside, "is full of insanely powerful magic that could fucking kill you. You're not fucking going."

Kon's jaw is set in that infuriatingly stubborn way of his; the glint in his eyes is nothing short of mulish. "Somebody has to get to the middle to stop that wizard freak. It's only gonna get worse if we don't do anything. And Cassie's already hurt. I'm going."

Not for the first time, Tim curses his own vulnerability. Curses that he's the best pilot among the four of them. Curses that the storm is raging too fiercely to just leave the plane on autopilot. Kon is determined to throw himself into harm's way, and Tim can't even come with him.

He turns back to the controls, glances at the anemometer; the wind is still rising. Ominous purple lightning crackles across the clouds all around them. The image of Kon flying down towards the sorcerer only to get struck from the sky by three hundred million volts of magic flashes through Tim's mind; it takes more self-control than he'd like to admit to not flinch.

"Cassie's hurt because she already tried confronting him directly, alone." At least his voice comes out steady, if a bit taut. "You think it'll go better if you do it instead?"

Another lightning strike shoots by, so close it nearly knocks the plane from the sky. As it is, everything outside goes bright white and the sensors scream; by the time Tim wrests the plane back under control, they've dropped five hundred feet, and he can see the churning, frothy waves down below.

Shit.

"At the very least, I can distract him while you find a place to land safely," Kon says, ever-so-graciously not rising to the bite in Tim's voice. "'Cuz you're talking a big game about me getting killed, but it looks to me like just trying to fly out here is probably gonna get you killed. And I mean, I've already died once. I'd do it a thousand times over again to keep you safe."

It would have been kinder if he just punched Tim in the gut.

For a moment, he can't breathe; panic and hurt and fury and terror all sweep through him in an excruciating rush, and his grip tightens on the throttle so hard it hurts.

"Really?" he hears himself say, lashing out in automatic self-defense. He hates this, hates fighting with Kon, hates what he's about to say because he knows it's cruel, but he can't stop himself in time as the words pour out. "You'd put me through the survivor's guilt and the grief and everything you know I went through once already, a thousand times over? Didn't know you had that kinda viciousness in you." He laughs humorlessly. "Kinda impressed, if I'm being honest."

For a moment, there's nothing but the sounds of beeping sensors and the howling wind. For a moment, Tim is terrified Kon has just vanished, thrown himself into the heart of the storm without another word—

But then warm, strong arms wrap around his shoulders and chest, and Kon's cheek presses against his hair, and Tim can breathe again. Kon is leaning over the back of his chair and just holding him, and Tim can breathe.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it, Rob," Kon murmurs. His breath against Tim's ear sends a shiver down his spine. "But I... you're right. I shouldn't have said... I mean, I... well, we can—we can talk about all that later. Right now, let's just..."

"Sorry." Tim takes one hand from the yoke to lay it over Kon's wrist, just for a moment. His heart is still thundering in his chest, a mirror of the storm outside; he doesn't need to ask to know whether Kon knows. "I didn't mean it. You're not—you're the kindest person I know."

"Tim." Kon holds him a little tighter. "It's okay, dude. Let's just focus on getting outta here for now, yeah?"

Getting out of here. Not confronting the sorcerer. Tim sucks in a breath. They do need to get Cassie some medical help, and some time to strategize can't hurt. Hopefully, he won't grow too powerful before they can double back and take him out.

"Okay," he says, and rubs his thumb over the pulse point in Kon's wrist before reluctantly dropping his hand back to the yoke. The wind outside buffets them relentlessly, despite even the formidable stabilizing tech built into the Batplane; he can't afford to keep his hands off it for too long.

Lightning flashes again. It's a little easier not to flinch.

"I'll run distraction outside," Kon says. "But I promise I won't confront him. Just get you a little breathing room to fly."

Anxiety spikes again in his chest, but Tim nods. He trusts Kon, and Kon is more than capable of playing a distraction while keeping a safe distance. "...Be careful."

Kon somehow, breathtakingly, manages to laugh despite it all. "C'mon, Rob, you know me. When am I not?"

He drops a quick kiss to the top of Tim's head, then vanishes before Tim has the chance to answer. Tim misses his warmth immediately.

It's fine. He'll hold Kon to that promise to talk later. For now, all that's left to do is to make it out of the storm.

50 Prompts About Devotion

#timkon #rimi writes #guy who has been listening to the totk colgera theme on loop: hey what about wind and storms as metaphors. what about--#ANYWAY hoo boy! idk if i like how this one turned out sorry but i hope it was fun all the same uwu #clambuoyance #blueforget-me-not #cas-and-their-refusal-to-write #chaoxfix #tim #kon

195 notes · View notes

johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

Text

you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 4

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

PART 4.

When the night of your art show comes, you do not expect to see John Wick in the crowd. You had not heard from him since that night when he gave you the orgasm of your life, then disappeared from your apartment like he’d only ever been a dark dream.

Though your panties had disappeared too, and you strongly suspect he’d taken them with him.

The gallery is packed this night. It’s a group show, and you’re hardly the main act, but it’s a huge stepping stone for you as an artist. Gallery X is nothing to turn one’s nose up at, and you dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, things might get going from here. The art world is just as much politics as it is producing work, and you were never good at that part of it all.

Helen was, bless. She presented strong work, but she also knew how to read a room, and whose hand to shake, and how to tell someone to go to Hell with a polite smile. You know that her final gift to you was the cachet of her name in a collaboration, and maybe, just maybe, if you play your cards just fucking right, this could be your break.

You recognize the faces of people with big names in the art world here tonight. Critics, museum curators, journalists, and collectors. They’ve all come out to play, and your heart has not slowed its frantic pace in your chest for the past hour since opening.

You snag a glass of champagne from a passing tray, even though you hate the stuff, and that is when you see him through the crowd. He’s across the room, tall and forbidding in a dark suit, his long hair framing his angular face. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze upon you, through the crush of all these people. For a moment, time stands still, as your eyes meet his.

You have thought of him a thousand times since the night he left you sated yet ravenous in your bed. A hot flush blooms across your skin, a spear of desire shooting straight to your loins as you remember what he did to you with that perfect mouth, and those big hands, and those soulful eyes. God, but you would have given him anything, after one look from those yearning dark eyes.

He is dressed well, but he doesn’t exactly look well. There is an edge to his stare; an intensity.

A hunger.

An agonizing thrill runs down your spine; for a moment you have to look away. It’s just too much.

By the time you turn back, he is gone.

You continue to mingle, chatting with your friends and acquaintances, sipping some of the bubbly to try to calm your nerves. It doesn’t work; you feel as though you have a live wire under your skin, a thousand volts of raw emotion running rampant through your veins.

It would have been easier, had it only been lust, or even just pity. But there was something more to it, something substantial and heady and warm, and that made it a much harder beast to slay.

You slowly make your way around to look at the other pieces. It’s the polite thing to do, and interesting too. The theme of the show is Loss. Perfectly broad, and the subjects of the works vary wildly.

In front of a massive encaustic abstract a low voice in your ear stops you in your tracks. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

You turn your head slightly to find John standing ever so near, so close you can feel the warmth of the solid line of his body behind you. The room is packed and it’s almost necessary to stand this close just to be heard, but still, you get a dark thrill out of it.

“Oh?”

“I feel like I took advantage of you, last we met. I am sorry.”

You turn to face him, standing close enough to kiss. Thanks to the heels you’re wearing, you don’t have to crane your neck too far to look him in the eye.

“Actually, I was kind of thinking I took advantage of you.”

This clearly surprises him, his eyebrows rising. Ah, this dear, sweet, man. You didn’t take him for being naïve, but he is a little older, and the claws of traditional gender roles cling hard and deep.

“Helen wanted me to look after you, and I—”

“Gave me the most incredible pleasure of my life? Yeah, it was pretty terrible. You’re a selfish beast.”

He blinks at you, clearly stunned. Then his eyes narrow, the hunger from before sharpening to a cutting edge, and a scintillating thrill runs down your spine. You cannot shake the feeling that you’ve just pulled the tail of a tiger; a predator both magnificent and deadly. Mostly it’s excitement; but just the slightest hint might be fear. There is something brimming below the surface of this man that you know you don’t entirely understand. You aren’t sure yet if it is passion, or violence—or maybe a combination of the two. You wonder if Helen ever got to see behind the mask.

Somehow, you are certain she did, and she had not run from him. Perhaps that is what makes you brave tonight.

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“Helen was the tactful one.”

“I actually found her refreshingly direct.”

“But I'm just abrasive. I've been told, believe me. It's because I don't apologize before I tell men what I really think.”

“I don't want your apologies.”

“Either way... I'm a big girl, John. You don't have to be the responsible adult between us.”

The corner of his mouth ticks at that.

“I feel like I should at least try.”

You shrug, unable to stop yourself from fingering his tie, fighting the urge to wrap your fist in it and pull him to you again. You’ve missed him, and standing this close, what you really want to do is climb him like a tree, and the crowd be damned. “Suit yourself.” You force yourself to stop touching him, although he didn’t seem to mind, or intend to stop you. You sigh deeply, warring with yourself as ever.

This is all so very fucked.

Maybe the truth is the best way to go.

“I like you, John. Maybe I’m just lying to myself, thinking Helen wouldn’t be pissed, but…maybe she’d be happy we’ve found each other.”

You dare to look him in the eyes, and once again, he looks as though he is drowning.

Fuck. You have to go.

You force yourself to step away from him, because your skin feels like its on fire. “We’re all going to Bar Rosé later to celebrate. You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

You retreat to greet a friend who’d come all the way to Manhattan from upstate to support you, and you can feel John’s eyes boring into you as you walk away.

For the rest of the opening you follow him out the corner of your eye. As though he's a magnet, you simply cannot help it. You are achingly aware of his presence, even if it's from across the room.

He pauses before your piece of Helen for a very long time, letting the crowd mill around him like a rock in a stream. It’s heartbreaking, really, the way he stands there before her, transfixed. A part of you wants to go take his hand, support him in what you know is yet another painful moment for him. But in the end, you decide to let him process it alone. A little later, you notice him talking to the gallery owner. Chummily, almost like they know each other. Of course, Carol Banning had known Helen, so perhaps you shouldn’t be so surprised.

When the evening is winding down John Wick is nowhere to be found. You're a little disappointed, and a little bit relieved. You're not sure what you think you're playing at, but deep down, you know it's so fucking twisted.

You meet with your comrades from the show, some artists you knew before, and some new acquaintances too. You hail a van cab to go a few blocks to Rosé. Tonight was a success. Someone bought your painting for a massive amount of money. More than you’d ever dreamed you could charge for a piece of your soul put down on canvas with paint. Carol had assured you it was appropriate, and you guessed she knew her clientele. A part of you was distressed to part with the piece you’d created with blood and tears and Helen’s art, and a part of you was relieved to let it go. You completed the cycle. You were sending Helen out into the world, where she would be remembered, and celebrated, for the remarkable woman she was.

It should have felt like victory, but in truth it was bittersweet.

You are 98 percent sure you don't let it show. Your friends are giddy with the success of the exhibition, and the last thing you want is to bring them down. You are too, truth be told. You were interviewed by not one, but two journalists this evening. One who even worked for the Times. Maybe it’s just curiosity about Helen Morgan-Wick’s baby sister, but…Helen would have told you to stop overthinking and enjoy it.

So perhaps, you will.

True to its name, the neon lights that accent the room at Rosé are pink. The glassware is too. You’re sure it’s a play on seeing the world through rose tinted glasses…but the drinks are strong, and the ambiance is fun. After a round your friends want to dance. You agree, and the four of you have a great time until you pick up a bogey. A man keeps trying to dance up on you, not getting the hint when you sidle away, not engaging with him whatsoever. Finally, you get tired of dodging him, and decide to get another drink. He follows you, leaning on the bar while you wait for the bartender’s attention. “I'm Sasha,” he says in thickly accented English, looking you up and down. He’s not bad looking at all, but there is something in the way he looks at you that makes you uneasy.

“Hi,” you answer, not keen to give him your name.

“You come here often?”

“Not really.”

“What are you celebrating tonight?”

“Who said we're celebrating?”

Had this pushy creep overheard you? Had he followed you from the gallery?

Another voice cuts in from behind you, a string of Russian that almost sounds like a command.

Your unwelcome suitor frowns, answering in the same language.

You turn your head to find John standing close behind you. You hadn’t noticed him come in; it’s as though he materialized from the shadows. When he puts a hand on your waist you do not flinch, hoping the other guy will get the picture. He frowns, looking between you. He says something quick over your head, and the only word you catch is blyad.

You’re pretty sure it means fuck.

There is a heavy moment rife with tension between the two men with you stuck in the middle, before the Russian makes a hissing sound between his teeth and goes. He doesn’t just go to the other side of the bar, however. He leaves the premises, slinking out the door, and you turn to look at your savior.

“Wow. What did you say to him?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you know him?”

“Hmm. Sort of. From work.”

You tilt your head, staring up at him. He hasn’t removed his large hand from your hip, and even though its possessive and maybe it should bother you, you revel in his touch. You’re not usually one to get off on men fighting over you, but it’s hard not to feel a little glow of primal satisfaction at the exchange. It makes you feel bold, and maybe you run your mouth a little. “Yeah? So did Helen know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re an ex mafioso?”

You’re 99 percent sure you’re making a joke, but from the sharp way he looks at you, a trill of warning rolls down your spine. He leans down to speak in your ear, “You have quite the imagination, young lady.”

That warmth in your chest descends to pool between your thighs.

The bartender saves you from digging this hole even deeper.

“What can I get you, Mr. Wick?”

“Blanton’s on the rocks,” John answers, then looks to you.

“Vodka martini, please,” you answer.

“We have Smirnoff, Absolut, Grey Goose, Stoli…”

Before you can answer that Smirnoff is fine John answers, “Stoli.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as the bartender goes to pour your drinks. “Thanks.”

“Life is too short to drink bad vodka.”

You huff a laugh at that. “So, do you know every bartender in New York, or…”

“Probably just in Manhattan,” he jokes with a ghost of a smile.

You turn so that you are facing him completely. You have to stand close to hear each other, you reason. It has nothing to do with the fact that this man draws you like you are an asteroid caught in his gravity. If you collide…you have no doubt you’ll burn to pieces.

“Congratulations, on tonight,” he says, and you believe he means it. “Helen would be proud.”

“Thanks. Feels surreal, to be honest.”

“That’s fair.”

You find yourself looking at his tie again, fighting the urge to use it to tug him closer. My, but you are becoming a needy creature in this man’s presence. You have to remind yourself that you do not, in fact, know him that well. Even if it feels like…he could have always been yours. “It’s nice to see you again,” you dare venture, looking up from beneath your lashes.

“Likewise.” He touches you lightly, just below your chin. Your eyes meet, and you feel pinned by those dark orbs, somehow certain he can see right through you,

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…are you okay?” Like on Helen’s birthday, you imagine tonight must have dredged up plenty of emotions that just maybe this poor man would like to bury once and for all.

“I guess I deserve that, after how I behaved.” He is, undoubtedly, referring to the way he fled your apartment a month ago.

“I’m not mad, I just…genuinely want to know.”

He bites his lip as he’s thinking, and its all you can do just to watch him, wishing it was you with his lip between your teeth instead. Finally he answers, “I am as okay as it is possible for me to be.”

It is the most non-answer you’ve ever heard.

Sensing your dissatisfaction with this pointed evasion, he digs a little deeper, leaning in so that his words are only for you. “I didn’t exactly lead a happy life, before Helen. After she passed…I was certain I would never want anyone ever again. You kind of threw a wrench into that.”

“Sorry.”

He gives a little huff of self-deprecating laughter. “Don’t be. I…I like you, y/n. Please, forgive me, for…everything.”

You don’t believe he’s telling you all this to win sympathy, or using it as a line, like so many men would. It’s just facts, and you are moved to the bottom of your soul. Somehow you know that this is not something this man would casually admit to just anyone. “John…” With your heart in your throat you find yourself reaching for him, touching his fingertips with yours on the bar. “It’s ok. You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything.”

He tilts his head to look at you, his dark hair swinging into his face. You feel bold enough to reach out, brushing it behind his ear. His eyes close at your touch for the barest moment. It’s so easy to forget that you are in a crowded public venue, with him near. “I owe you my gratitude, at the very least.”

You shake your head, prepared to deny it, but then your drinks arrive, and the moment is somewhat shattered. “Want to sit with us?” you ask, indicating your merry band of artist misfits with your chin. He nods, following you, though his hand has found that place at the small of your back again that warms your blood to an agonizingly slow simmer. Carol has joined you, and you wonder if John will feel awkward, fraternizing here in unspecific but obviously friendly capacity with his sister in law.

Yikes. You do not like it, when you think of it that way.

However, Carol Banning is a veteran of the New York art scene, and she has seen much worse scandals than this. She doesn’t even bat an eyelash, greeting him warmly from behind her large black-rimmed glasses. They chat more about the show, and the state of the art world. Carol mourns that no photographers currently working quite have an eye like Helen did. Then she points a crimson painted claw your way, surprising you. “But this young lady. She’s going to do some interesting things, I have a feeling.”

John salutes you with his dwindling glass of amber liquid, a smirk on his lips you don’t entirely know how to read. “I have no doubts.”

After you finish your drink you find you are ready to go. It’s been a long day, and a big night. Tonight, you fulfilled Helen’s dying wish for you, and somehow you feel simultaneously accomplished and sore to the bone.

“Can I drive you home?” asks John quietly in your ear. It sends a bolt of heat straight to your center, warmth pooling in your loins as you remember what happened last time he made such an offer. You look at him, wondering if he wants an encore, or if he just wants to see you home safe. His face in that moment is so handsome it hurts, but utterly unreadable to you.

“Sure,” you answer, sensing that somehow you’ve just signed your fate over to him with your name on the dotted line.

You hit the street, the cool night air a relief after the close press of the bar. John offers you his left arm, and you take it gladly, leaning on his shoulder a little more than you really need to. Part of it is that last martini with what had been truly excellent vodka—and part of it was just a need to be close to him. A part of you thought you’d never see him again. The fact that he is here, solid in the flesh and you can touch him, kind of blows your mind.

“I’m not parked far,” he assures you, and you nod with a sleepy smile. At the end of the block you see his car parked on the street. It’s a little menacing, you think to yourself, looking at the dark paintjob and the sleek lines. Definitely a car designed to be a predator of the road; something that will run you down and eat you, no matter how fast you try to run.

As you near the vehicle three shadows separate themselves from an alley. John freezes in his tracks, pushing you behind him. You recognize the guy from earlier, Sasha, who is flanked by two intimidating henchmen. He speaks to John again in Russian, and John replies in kind. It pisses you off that you don’t know what’s being said.

“Speak English,” you demand, half-stepping out from behind John.

A low chuckle runs through the men before you that makes your blood run cold. “I said,” enunciates Sasha slowly, “That if he hands you over now I’ll let you both live. He’ll just have to watch as I fuck you like the whore you are.”

“Nice. Very original, fuck head.”

His self-satisfaction morphs to anger. You are scared, but you’re not showing it like you should, and it’s ruining his fun. You use John’s body to shield the fact that you are dipping into your purse for your pepper spray. Why the fuck can’t you ever find anything in your purse when you need it?

What comes next happens so fast you almost can’t register it. One of the toughs made the first move forward, but John is like a hurricane upon them, deflecting strikes and breaking arms, punching one guy in the throat and kicking another in the gut. He throws one with some kind of complicated grapple and flip ninja shit before hitting the other again in the knees. In the blink of an eye two of them are down on the ground, leaving John to take on Sasha, who has drawn a knife. You see that one of the grounded henchmen is fishing behind his back for something. Without thinking you surge forward, knowing it’s a matter of life and death. As his hand raises with the gun you goalie-kick it from his hand, dousing his face with mace.

“Motherfucker!”

The gun goes off before it skitters across the street and under a parked car. He howls with agony, clutching his face, trying to wipe the concentrated capsaicin out of his eyes. In the next moment there is an arm around your waist, pulling you towards the parked cars. You are so caught up in the adrenaline rush that you react without looking, but John catches your hand with the mace, keeping it pointed away from the both of you. “It’s me,” he says, taking the tube and slipping it into his pocket like he doesn’t trust you not to let loose again. “You did good, honey. Come on.”

As he is bundling you into the passenger seat of his car you look back to see Sasha is writhing on the sidewalk with his knife in his leg, shouting what undoubtedly are expletives in Russian. You vaguely wonder if he might bleed to death as the Mustang rumbles to life and you roar away.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, trembling with adrenaline and you guess, a bit of shock. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, deeming it the more pertinent question.

“No. I’m…fine,” you say, looking down at yourself. “Jesus, are you hurt?” You look over at him to see that he is bleeding from a cut on his brow. “Oh my god, let me see.” You reach for him but he holds up a hand. “I’m fine, believe me.”

You catch one more glimpse of the wreckage behind you as he makes a right turn, downshifting. The car surges forward, pressing you back into the seat.

“You totally laid those guys out!”

“Yeah.” You study him from the passenger’s seat, his hard expression highlighted by the passing headlights. His jaw is clenched so tight you think he might crack his teeth. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

You think about the three guys he leveled out like a human tornado.

“You've got some moves, Mr. Wick.”

He just sighs, sounding so very tired.

“Yeah.”

“Should we…call the cops?”

He looks over at you like you should know the answer to that question, but shit, this is the most violence you’ve seen up close in your entire life. Finally, he just shakes his head, seeming a decade older in that moment. “It wouldn’t do any good,” he assures you.

Except, maybe get him arrested, you reason. Because even though it had been self-defense…the carnage he’d left behind was unreal.

“Helen said you used to work in security?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “Hardly.”

“I still don’t fucking get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why…this even happened? Men don’t exactly brawl on the street over me.” For Helen? Maybe, more likely, but not you, the boho weirdo who is lucky enough to kind of resemble your model-beautiful older sister, but will never be half as lovely or charming. You suspect there is some other reason this went sideways, that has more to do with John’s professional life before he retired from security.

That job description is holding less and less water the more you think on it. Helen was always super cagey in talking about what John Wick did for a living. You’re starting to get a better idea as to why that might have been.

John surprises you when he holds out his hand to you across the center console. “I would fight an army for you,” he tells you softly, and goddamn if you don’t believe him. You take his hand, comforted by the strength in the long fingers wrapped around yours. You only let go in between him shifting gears, and you don’t really say anything else until you pull up in front of your building.

“Come on,” you say, swinging open the heavy door of the sportscar. “I’ll take care of you.” The look he pays you is somehow both raw and predatory. A thrill of anticipation runs down your spine, because at this point you’ve lost your mind, and you don’t have the sense to be afraid.

<<PART 3 PART 5>>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu x you #keanu reeves x reader

101 notes · View notes

kashimoswife · 3 months

Text

Electric Love

Female reader x Kashimo Hajime

It's been a year. A year of torturous teasing and prodding with Kashimo Hajime. In exchange for his aid in the fight against Kenjaku and Sukuna you forfeit your freedom. Although, he has let you roam out in public, with his supervision. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever expect you'd actually develop feeling for the crazed century old sorcerer, but here you are, falling harder and deeper for him than any other man you've ever met. Thing is, the feelings are not only reciprocated but they are met with an intensity only he can exude. As you lose yourself in thought he slams the door open wearing nothing but a white towel and his teal colored hair completely down and he exhales deeply and looks into your eyes hungrily and like a lion about to catch a gazelle in it's paws. He looks almost animalistic and it makes you halt your breathing instantly. "I'm done, I'm done hiding this, this fucking need I have. I'm taking you. Right here, right fucking now Y/N." He growls out and pins you to your bed and seizes your lips in a searing and passionate kiss as he grinds his cock against your waist making you whimper. His hands tear through your clothing with ease and he slides his hand between your legs and hooks a finger under your panties and slowly pulls them down. "Please Kashi, please. Enough with the teasing. Please just fuck me." You beg and it's borders pathetic making him chuckle. "I'll decide when you've had enough teasing, princess, but keep begging and you may get exactly what you want." He states huskily and slowly teases your bundle of nerves with his thumb. "Kashiiii, pleaseeeeeee." You whine and your legs writhe in pleasure as he continues to stimulate you. "More princess, beg me more." Juices are squirting out of you so quickly from his stimming that you feel your orgasm hit and you sob out his name. "Daddy please fuck me. Please fuck me." Kashimo then pulls his hand away making your orgasm dissipate in an instant which immediately causes you to whine loudly when without warning you feel his cock press to your clitoris and you sharply take in air. "Look at what your about to take, princess." He commands and you look down and see his 10 and a half inch curved cock hard and veiny ready to pierce into your tight and warm pussy. "That's it. Look at how cutely you fixate on my cock. Look at what that tight little, perfect little pussy is about to take. I wonder if I'm your first? I suppose I can be gentle, but only for you princess." He whispers hotly in your ear before slowly easing into your pussy with a groan. "Ohhhh fuck. Ohhhh shit. Definitely your first. Fucking hell princess." You gasp and moan loudly as he eases into your pussy and relax into the sensation of him filling you completely. "Harder. You can go harder." You pant out and he immediately obliges thrusting harder into you hitting your g-spot with brutal precision making you cry out. He continues to accelerate his pace and you feel his unbridled electric nature take hold as you feel small volts of electricity shoot through your body increasing your desire exponentially making you both sky rocket to your orgasms. Suddenly his eyes lock with yours with more than just lust in their electric blue depths and he kisses you almost reverently as you both cum together in an explosive climax leaving you both breathless and panting on the bed. "Y/N, I love you. Wanting you to be mine wasn't a wing it situation. I've wanted this, you, in every capacity since the day we met on that battlefield." He says softly and pulls you into his chest protectively. "Kashi... I love you too." You whisper back as you press your forehead to his. "I'm glad. Now. Let's go shower and do this again later." He says with a grin and jumps out of the bed. You giggle and smile knowing, that despite his crazy nature, he truly loves you and always will, and what's more, you love him just the same amount.

#kashimo x reader #hajime kashimo x reader #18+ fanfic #18+ content #18+ post #18+ only #anime #anime fanfic #18+ account #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

43 notes · View notes

tripleaxeldiaz · 1 year

Text

until the earth starts to crumble and the heavens roll away (i’m yours)

read on ao3

The sun is setting, a warm orange glow seeping in through the blinds, when he comes into Buck’s room. Everyone else had been in and out already with hugs and goodbyes and promises of visiting tomorrow — everyone except Eddie. And judging from the redness still fading from around his eyes and the way he’s forcibly trying to keep his shoulders away from his ears, Buck thinks he understands why.

He’s been in Eddie’s shoes. No amount of therapy or coping mechanisms could have stopped the ice cold, all encompassing tendrils of panic from taking over his body and mind when Eddie was buried alive or shot in broad daylight. Even after running into the hospital room after Eddie woke up, he had to take 10 minutes in the bathroom to collect himself before he could open his mouth without bursting into tears.

So he gets it. He’s not mad.

He’s just really glad he’s here.

“Hey,” Eddie says, voice soft and low, almost as soft as the one he uses with Chris when he’s sick. Buck watches him make his way to the chair next to his bed and sit down, hesitating for a breath before pulling the chair as close to the bed as he can get.

Good. Buck would’ve pulled him over himself if he hadn’t.

“Hey,” he says back, sitting up straighter against his pillow. He’s not in pain exactly but he feels…uncomfortable. No position he sits in ever feels good enough, standing for too long makes him dizzy. The nurses are right, of course, he’s definitely still healing, he just wishes he didn’t feel like he was about to vibrate out of his skin while it was happening.

That may be a him thing, though, nothing at all to do with being struck by thousands of volts of electricity and all to do with him being restless, bouncing off the wall Buck.

A Buck that he no longer resents. Except in this moment when he just wants to relax.

They’re quiet as he adjusts himself, finally settling and facing Eddie as best he can. “Did Chris go home?”

“Yeah, about half an hour ago. Carla took him, he’s got school in the morning.” Eddie picks at a loose thread coming off the blanket covering the bed, and Buck notices he’s shaking. He wants to reach out, to hold him, to show him that he’s okay, that he’ll be back to normal in no time, but he looks like a strong breeze would shatter him where he sits, so he stays put. Eddie clears his throat before talking again, eyes never leaving the thread. “Did he tell you how we snuck him in to see you?”

Buck smiles. “He did. Made it sound a lot like a heist.”

“I wouldn’t call distracting one nurse a heist,” Eddie says. The corner of his mouth just barely ticks upwards, as close to a smile as Buck expects to see from him today. “But you know Chris, he could charm the pants off anyone without even trying.”

“Sounds like his dad.” Eddie rolls his eyes, but the tips of his ears go Buck’s favorite shade of pink, and he’s grateful that he gets to see it again. But the levity is brief — his brow furrows again, and Buck sees him bite the inside of his cheek, watches the shaking get a little more pronounced. His hand had moved up the blanket at some point, coming to rest right next to Buck’s where it rests. Eddie traces the outside of his pinky, softly, gently, like he’s worried about Buck shattering too. He takes a couple deep breaths and moves his hand again, twisting their pinkies together. The vibrations that have been coursing through Buck for days now quiet down the smallest amount, but it’s enough. It’s a relief. He’s touching Eddie, and it feels grounding, steady, sure.

It feels like a lifeline.

“I was really scared,” Eddie says, quiet enough to almost be absorbed by the blankets and bedding. “I saw you hanging there and I just ran, I didn’t even think about it. And then you wouldn’t—we couldn’t—” his breath shudders. “You were so still. I’ve never seen you that still.”

Buck sits up then, moving so he’s cross-legged on the bed, looking at Eddie straight on. He twists their already clasped hands until they’re fully intertwined, grabs the other one too and holds on tight. He squeezes once, twice, three times, before Eddie takes the hint and looks him in the eye. They’re bright and shining with tears and Buck still wants to get lost in them, even when they’re breaking his heart.

“I remembered you, you know,” he says. Eddie cocks his head, confused. “Not the dream version of you, I didn’t even meet that version. But the real you, the one that had my back when I went up the ladder. The one that always has my back. I remembered that. I remembered you, before anyone else.”

Eddie ducks his head again just before his shoulders shake, still trying in vain to keep everything together, either for Buck’s sake or his own. He wishes he could drill it into his stubborn brain that it’s okay to break, that Buck has picked up the pieces before and he will every other time after, that he fought like hell to get back to this family, to this Eddie, shrapnel and all. Instead, he holds Eddie’s hand a little bit tighter, threads his other hand through the hairs at the back of his neck, and rests his forehead on Eddie’s crown. His hair smells like cedar and cinnamon and faintly of smoke. It smells like Eddie. It smells like home.

They sit up after a while, but neither goes very far — their hands are still clutched together and Eddie is tracing nonsense on the inside of Buck’s wrist. He can’t believe that even for a minute, he didn’t want to come back to this — to Bobby on his way with In ‘n’ Out, to Hen and Chim ordering a cake with a horrible joke on it in the waiting room, to Maddie’s smile and Chris’ laugh.

To Eddie holding his hand.

“Thank you,” Eddie says, softly but fiercely. He looks Buck in the eye again, determined and steady, like he’s trying to piece himself back together by sheer force of will. “For coming back to us. We need you, Buck, more than I think we’ll ever be able to tell you.”

He brings one of Eddie’s hands up to his heart, and the last of the vibrations finally melt away. He feels still again, but not in a scary way. In a way he’s not sure he’s ever been, even before being struck by lightning.

“I’ll always come back,” Buck says, a truth he knows better than his own name. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a trippy purgatory nightmare to keep me away from you.”

Eddie smiles, a real, joyful smile that crinkles at his eyes and makes Buck want to sing. He presses his lips to the inside of Buck’s wrist — in prayer, in thanks, in a promise.

It hits him then as hard as it’s hit since he opened his eyes: Buck’s home. People love him.

He finally believes it.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie fic #911 fic #911 spoilers #HELLO SHE STILL REMEMBERS HOW TO WRITE #ficcery

324 notes · View notes