#and just a little from 'foreign object under my skin' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

romanarose · 20 days

Text

Cola

Chubby!Francisco Morales x fem!reader

Summary: Frankie loves how you taste so sweet…. “My pussy tastes like Pepsi Cola”

Content and warnings: Pussy eating like a mad man, ass eating, madly in love, desperately horny, feral Frankie, object insertion, fucked with a foreign object, don’t do this at home, premature ejaculation 💕

Immersivity: reader is AFAB and wears dresses, uses she/her

A/n: inspired by all them pics of Pedro in the Coca Cola shirt… yummy. Finals are DONE and it’s time for my return after a month of no fics!

Special thanks to @hornystan for proofreading and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog for this amazing header! Thank you for making my return so special

Support writers, reblog and comment!

*************

Surely, this was what heaven was like.

Sprawling green meadows and rolling hills, your handsome husband flying you out on a helicopter to a private property. A wicker basket full of a picnic he packed himself had been tossed aside in favor of you humping Frankie’s leg as you both laid on the quilted blanket.

“Baby,” Frankie chuckles, eyes closed tight and nose scrunched up a little as you peppered his scruffy beard with kisses. Sunshine warmed your back in your red sundress, Frankie’s large hands pushing it up and over the swell of your ass cheeks. “We haven't even had lunch yet.”

“Don’t care, need you.” You mutter between kisses, desperately rutting against your dear lover like a bitch in heat.

“But the ice will melt!”

“Don’t. Care.” You kiss his sweet, pudgy face covered in salt and pepper facial hair. “Need. You.”

Frankie laughs again, but his strong arms lift you off his full tummy. “Baby, it’s hot out,” he smiles and sits up, prompting you to do the same despite your cute little pout. “C’mon, have a drink.” He reached into the basket where a few cola bottles sat in a tin bucket? full of ice next to some sandwiches and fruit he cut up himself, just for you. Sweet, sweet man. You packed his favorite, homemade red velvet cupcakes. The cream cheese icing was sitting in the iced tin along with the cola, ready to be added to the cupcakes, nice and chilled.

He opens a bottle, placing the lid inside the basket, careful not to litter, but you don’t drink right away. Instead, you watch as his hands flex to open another bottle, tilting his head back to chug it. His profile was immaculate. Your eyes scan down, taking in the curve of his nose, his softened jawline, plush lips wrapped around the tip of the bottle… but quickly move to his throat. He was a marvel, Adam's apple bobbing and a small trickle of cola down his neck…

With a refreshed, “ah!” Frankie places his trash in the basket, folds in his creasing stomach twisting as he turns. When he looked back, his eyes went wide. First, his eyes went to your discarded panties. Then to you. There you sat, legs spread open and bent, holding your coke bottle in one hand and pumping your desperate, needy pussy with the other. “Jesus, baby…” He licks his lips and you lament the leftover sweetness on his skin wicked away before your tongue could taste how the sugar mixed with his sweat.

“Frankie…” You whine, desperate and mewling for his touch, your desire so intense there was no way you could wait for lunch to end. No way in hell. Tears pricked at your eyes from the burn of the sun and the overwhelming need you had for him. It was always like this with Francisco, intense and burning and all-consuming even after all these years. It didn’t matter, you still fucked like there was no one else on the planet. To him, and certainly to you, there wasn’t.

Frankie mumbled a swear under his breath, his own chest heaving and already tight pants growing tighter. He orders you to lay down and like a good girl, you obey but he stops you. Frankie takes off his hat and plops it down on your head. “For your eyes.” With that, he kisses your lips and you get to taste the lingering traces of his drink. Then, he pushes you down.

You clutch the cold, undrank coke bottle in one hand, Frankie’s sweaty brown curls in the other, the bill of his hat protects your eyes from the sun. You were two orgasms in, drenched in sweat and probably smelling terrible, but he didn’t care.

“Baby?” Frankie asked, making your eyes flick down to him. His eyes were wide and wet, intense and brown. Fuck, he was handsome.

You’re panting, but answer him. “Yeah?”

“I’m real thirsty…”

Normally, you would assume he’s talking about wanting to drink your cum, lap at your pussy as you squirt all over him, hips bucking against his mustache… but honestly, it was hot and you assumed he wanted a drink.

“Here” You hand him the coke bottle in your hands sweetly, sitting up as you do but Frankie orders you to lie down as he grabs it.

You look at him confused but do as he says. Frankie always took care of you, you trusted him, so you laid back down on the heavy quilt, feeling the grass move under the weight of your head.

Knelt before you, Frankie looked a bit of a mess. His curls were all over the place, brown curls every which way, as sweaty as his beard was wet. It wasn’t even that hot a day, but you were working up an appetite.

“You belong to me, right?” He asks you, eyes roaming over your body up and down in your pretty sundress. He looked like he was about to eat you alive, like it was taking everything in him right now not to pounce on you like a werewolf. Francisco’s hands move up and down your bent legs, a sheen of sweat gliding them down, fingernails lightly digging into the meat of you r thighs as if only a thread of sanity was preventing him from digging his claws in and making you subject to his insatiable hunger.

“Yeah baby.” You whisper, breathy but without hesitation. “Every inch.”

Francisco's eyes were locked into yours, pupils black as night, threatening to swallow the whites of his eyes. “Tilt your hips up for me.”

Confused but obedient, you feel your brows furrow as you reach under yourself and hold your hips up. Your eyes couldn’t leave his, not if you tried, his hands so steady and sure he didn’t even need to look down as he slowly inserted the tip of the opened coke bottle into your tight hole. You gasped, though not so much at the intrusion; his fingers hadn’t stretched you yet, but you were used to taking his whole cock. No, the bottle was cold. Not freezing, not after being out of the ice a few minutes, but cold. Francisco pauses, eyebrows cocked in a question of your comfort.

You didn’t want him to stop. “Keep going.”

With a growl, it takes everything in him not to shove the full bottle straight up your cunt, but he knows better. Instead, he took his time. The first time he inserted the foreign object. Once he knew you were okay, all bets were off. Francisco vigorously pumped you, forcing your eyes to tear away from his as you lost yourself in pleasure, feeling the cool drink pour into your channel.

“Such a needy little pussy… she’s so desperate, isn’t she? She just needs to be stretched and filled all the time…”

“Fuck! Frankie! Shit, that feels - ohmyfuckinggod - so good! You feel so good, fuck, I love you so m- shit!” You were approaching a third orgasm, the fizzing of the carbonation a strange sensation in your sensitive insides, and his cock hasn’t even been inside you yet. Frankie couldn’t stop staring at your pussy, licking his lips and palming the erection in his jeans. He had so far been neglected, edging himself in order to bring you, and subsequently him, as much pleasure as possible. Your pleasure was his, your lust was his, your pretty cunt was his to do as he pleased. He could play games with you, shove whatever he wanted into whatever holes and you’d let him… but Frankie didn’t get off on humiliation, he got off on you.

He watched your pussy lips repeatedly swallow the bottle, bits of coke and cum leaking out of you as he began to overwhelm your body. His hand squeezed his dick, throbbing in his pants and he knew he wasn’t going to last. He’d have to recuperate and fuck your face into the grass after lunch. Right now, though… he was thirsty.

Frankie yanked your hands out from under you, pulling the bottle out as you whimper and feel the leftover spill all over your pussy and thighs. That would be annoying later, but that didn’t matter now, not when your loving, adorable husband was dropping to his stomach and latching his lip around your hole. Frankie was drinking coca cola out of your cunt.

He lapped and sucked and licked and drank, the pop fizzling out on your pussy lips as Francisco, whining and crying into your cunt as he came, desperately licked every inch of you. He needed to make this last, he needed to taste every drop, tasting your thighs for the sweet you were so desperate to suck off his lips a moment ago. His tongue was impossible to please, spreading your asscheeks to taste what had trickled down. Only when he seemed to run out of energy, his orgasm satiated, did he slow. You could feel the wetness from his eyes on your lips.

“I just love you so fucking much.” He kissed your swollen, fucked out pussy and closed his eyes, head resting on your thigh as his eyes drooped. He must’ve really tuckered himself out. “So sweet for me.”

*************

Please consider reblogging, if this flops I’ll scream

Inspo comes from Ozzie’s amazing Joel fic, beer bottle insertion

If this does well I’ll write part 2 with reader licking that cream cheese off his dick….

Thank you to everyone who has been supporting me through a difficult month, it has not always been easy between school, and everything that happened, but I got through it and I’m looking forward to something new. I finished up all my assignments and papers even though it was absolute chaos lol and now all I have left is a couple online next semester and then I graduate. 💕💕💕💕

Each and everyone of you so so much, please take care of yourselves!

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales smut #Francisco morales #francisco morales smut #Francisco morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #francisco catfish morales #Francisco catfish morakes smut #chubby Frankie

246 notes · View notes

pinksomovember · 7 months

Text

Day 1 - In A Car [ao3]

Ivy rocked on her heel folded under her.

“I’m going to piss myself,” she said, a slight whine bleeding into her otherwise joking tone.

Nora didn’t respond. Ivy had been complaining on-and-off for the past hour, with increasing frequency, and had started shortly after a stop that had a bathroom.

“I seriously don’t think I’ve ever had to pee this bad in my life,” Ivy continued. “It’s starting to hurt.”

“You could’ve gone at the gas station,” Nora said.

Ivy didn’t appreciate the condescending scolding. She felt like a water balloon that was still attached to the hose, bulging more and more with every second, with only a matter of time before it went pop. Her only outlet was to fidget, simultaneously squeezing her thighs together and rocking back and forth onto her foot so it pressed up against her pussy. In combination with the seam of her jean shorts digging up against her—working its way into a wedgie—her urethra had plenty of pressure to help it stay closed. That was only going to work for so long, though.

“You didn’t see the bathrooms,” Ivy argued. They’d been disgusting—shit on the back of the seat, a truly foul smelling liquid seeping along the corners of the floor, and flies everywhere. Not to mention how every surface was covered in stains and dried flecks of who-knows-what. If it had been cleaned in the past month Ivy would eat one of her socks.

She’d had to pee, decently bad, when they had stopped there. But under no circumstances would Ivy use that bathroom. Except for maybe (just maybe) right now.

She thought she’d be able to hold it. They were only a few hours out from their destination and she could always get Nora to stop at a rest stop or a gas station if it really got bad. Ivy, however, hadn’t realized that they were about to exit fucking civilization. There had been nothing for the past fifty miles other than cattle and the occasional cornfield!

“If you weren’t chugging those iced teas-”

“I’ve stopped!”

Ivy might’ve also forgotten to factor in how much liquid had still been moving its way through her system, too. It was a habit for her to sip at sugary drinks when she was bored.

A wave of desperation so strong that Ivy dug her nails into her thighs swept through her.

“Ohhh my god,” she moaned. “I can’t do this. Jesus fucking Christ.”

There was so much pee inside her right now her bladder was visibly pushing up against her skin, firm and tight and aching between her hips. She had given up on the seatbelt, and the button of her shorts, well over fifteen minutes ago. Ivy kind of wanted to cry.

Nora softened. “You going to be alright, babe?”

“I don’t know. Yes, probably. Maybe.”

“I can always pull over,” she offered. “You’d have to piss on the side of the road, though.”

Ivy shook her head adamantly. “No, there’s way too much traffic.”

They fell into silence for a few minutes, aside from the staticy music of one of the few radio station’s Nora’s truck was picking up and the occasional curse from Ivy.

“Are you enjoying it, at least? At least a little?” Nora asked, breaking the quiet.

“What?” Ivy practically panted. Her breathing was rough as she tried to huff and puff her way through the worst of the desperation.

“Just.” Nora seemed a bit embarrassed, keeping her eyes completely glued to the road. “You’re…y’know. Piss thing.”

“It’s not a piss thing,” Ivy hissed, mortified. Even though it was, at least partially, a piss thing.

It wasn’t her fault that having a full bladder turned her on. From what Ivy understood, it was just simple biology! The fuller that most women’s bladder’s get, the more it puts pressure on all the internal pleasure hotspots. A little like cockwarming a moderately small toy, just without any form of firmness that a foreign object would feel like. It felt good in a slow building, passive sort of way.

Getting off with all that weight in her lower belly also felt good. A little bit of extra flare to a still otherwise damn good orgasm.

But she wouldn’t say she was into piss. The idea of the smell and the mess alone was enough to turn her off to it. Holding it on occasion until it was just starting to edge into too much was plenty enough for her.

Although, she had to admit, she wasn’t exactly turned off to it right now.

Each tight squeeze of her thighs stimulated her a little bit. Every rock back pressed the bone of her heel into the squelching slickness of her pussy, which was absolutely soaking her panties despite knowing damn well that she hadn’t leaked a single drop of pee yet. And with all that movement, the seam of her shorts was pulled tight against her unmistakably hard clit.

“Well, are you?” Nora asked.

“I-” Ivy stopped herself. Her face was burning. “Yeah, maybe. So what, I still have to pee more than I have to—or whatever, want to—get off.”

Nora stole a side glance at Ivy. Something dark, heedy, interested came over her expression as she drank in how Ivy looked.

Ivy sacrificed one of her hands clawing into her thigh as a grounding method to cover her face. This was embarrassing enough as it was without having to talk about her kinks. Even if Nora seemed to be getting into it.

“Oh my god, ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Ivy chanted, forgetting her embarrassment entirely. The wave of desperation felt incredibly, suddenly like a physical wave. She could feel it surging against the sphincter muscles of her urethra.

She wiggled her hips side to side to try and fight through it. The movement caused her shorts, already so tight against her cunt, to shift. Her clit was trapped between the seam and her pubic bone, but couldn’t stay in place with this new movement. The seam fucking stroked her aching clit, slipping to the side before grinding right back over it with the next sway of her hips.

“Hu-uhn,” Ivy couldn’t help but moan. “Uh, uh, uh!”

“Fuck,” Nora cursed, breathless.

Ivy couldn’t process the difference between her desperation for relief and her sudden, surging need to cum. Everything was much too much and not enough at the same time.

“Fuckfuckfuck. Jesus Christ. Uhaha.” Ivy sobbed a couple times. It was part laugh and part horniness and part overwhelmed. She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like an out-of-body event while also being the most physically animal experience she had ever had.

“God. You feeling good, baby?” Nora asked.

“Y-y-yes!” Ivy wailed. “It’s- fuck, it’s so good. I’m so wet. Shit, I’m so- I’ve gotta piss so bad.”

Nora took her right hand off the wheel to grab Ivy’s leg. Her other hand held onto the wheel so tight her knuckles were turning white. There was something wild about her. Something that, if she didn’t have to focus so much of her attention on the road, might’ve swept her up in the same way Ivy’s desperation was.

“You gonna play with yourself, baby?” Nora asked. “Gonna play with your clit while you piss yourself?”

“Don’t- don’t wanna piss myself,” Ivy whined. Nevertheless, she did as Nora suggested and grabbed tight between her legs. Her shorts were too tight and were getting in the way of actually being able to touch herself effectively, but the pressure helped reel in her bladder’s demands a little bit.

“Ives, baby, there’s no bathrooms for miles yet.”

A reedy noise broke in Ivy’s throat.

“I know, I know,” Nora said, hand squeezing at Ivy’s thigh. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“This is so fucking embarassing,” Ivy managed, laughing incredulously. “I’m seriously gonna wet myself. Fuck.”

“I don’t care. Fuck, baby, looking like that…I’d let you ruin anything.”

“Hm?” Ivy hummed. Her whole cunt was pulsing, vagina and pussy lips and clit. She was so wet she wouldn’t even be surprised if a spot was showing up on her shorts, soaked straight through her panties. Her body was building up to something—so high up she was almost afraid of it—unsure if it would be the dams breaking involuntarily or an orgasm so intense it would be the best she’d ever had.

“You look so fucking good, Ives,” Nora rasped. “I could eat you alive.”

“I…” Ivy wavered. She didn’t know what she wanted to say.

“It’s okay,” Nora said. “It’s gonna happen either way, isn’t it? Unless you changed your mind about the side of the road?”

They were on a two-laned highway, a couple of cars in either direction always in sight. Stopping would mean even more cars, as the ones behind them passed them by.

“No, absolutely not. It’d end up on the- on the fucking Internet or something.”

Nora massaged her thumb against Ivy’s skin. “Then I’m sorry, baby, but you’re gonna have to piss yourself.”

“’S bullshit,” Ivy mumbled. Tears were pricking up in her eyes. The side-to-side wiggling was simultaneously not doing enough to help her hold it and doing a frustratingly inconsistent too-much-not-enough to get her off. She resorted back to rocking, with no sign of pausing the mounting something that was steadily creeping up on her.

“We’ve got a ton of clothes in the back,” Nora soothed. “And towels, and baby wipes, and our rental is pretty far from any neighbors so nobody’ll see you walking in your wet clothes. And it won’t take too much to clean the truck, and I don’t mind cleaning it up, okay?”

“But-”

“It’s not a big deal,” Nora insisted, a bit of firmness edging in. “Understand?”

Ivy nodded tightly. She did understand, even if she could barely think.

“Now, since it’s gonna happen anyways, you want to make yourself feel good?”

“Already am,” Ivy said. “Might, fuck, I don’t know. Might cum.”

“Just like that?”

“May- uhn- maybe.”

“Fuck.” She sounded reverent. “You wanna touch yourself, baby? Wanna stick your fingers down your shorts?”

Ivy nodded, frantic. She was so close, to coming, to pissing, to doing both. She just couldn’t quite get there.

Her fingers felt fucking heavenly. Her pussy was a mess of sticky slick, audibly squishing as she pushed her hand beneath the waistband of her panties and into the lips of her pussy. Just brushing against her clit was enough to cause her to shout out, trembling at the sudden stimulation of sensitive nerves.

“Just like that, baby. Fuck, look at you. It feels good?”

“Yes! Fuck, ohmygod. Hnnnuh.”

Ivy’s fingers were clumsy, sitting up and trapped in her shorts and obstructed by the clamping of her thighs. But God, it didn’t even matter. She grinded her cunt on her heel and the drag of the cotton and denim against her pussy made everything all the better and her fingers fumbling over her clit was dragging her up up up.

“Keep playing with your clit, baby. Just like that, yeah. Just how you like it.”

“Gonna- fuck!”

“You gonna cum, Ives?”

“Wanna,” Ivy cried. “So- fuck, please, please. Wanna…I’m so…”

“Or are you gonna piss?”

“Fuck!” Ivy wailed. Her pleasure crested, sharp and violent and hard enough that her whole body shook. She threw her head back into the seat, practically seizing. She barely recognized the sounds she was making as something coming from her mouth, unfamiliar from any other she’d made before.

“Oh my god,” Nora was saying, somewhere in the distance. “Fuck, baby. Fuck.”

Ivy was still shaking, still somewhere high up.

“Need’ta piss,” she slurred. “Need’ta…uhn, I need’ta…”

Nora said something. Ivy registered only that it was meant to be encouraging.

“Uh, uhn, ohhhhhh fuck. Oh-”

Ivy’s fingers were still against her cunt, and she felt the first hot trickle of piss against them. It wasn’t enough, though, not even registering as relief. The sensation of liquid leaving her bladder, however, passing through her weakening sphincter and soaking into her shorts, bordered into the same amount of pleasure as playing with her clit usually was.

So soon after her orgasm, she felt overstimulated. There was still way too much pressure and it was taking a strenuous amount of concentration to keep even the tiny stream going and everything still felt so fucking good.

“Nnn…Nora,” Ivy sobbed. “I can’t-”

“Relax, Ives, relax. It’s okay, you can do it.”

“Can’t-”

Nora let go of Ivy’s thigh and instead tucked her hand beneath Ivy’s wrist of the hand still down her shorts to place her palm against her belly. “I’m gonna push down a bit, okay? Just relax.”

Ivy hiccuped, but nodded. She was still managing a thin stream of piss, seeping into the seat of her shorts and just barely beginning to form a puddle under her butt, but her bladder was screaming at her.

Nora pushed down and Ivy squirmed violently. The pressure was so much more but it wasn’t doing anything but hurting. She had to piss so bad and she couldn’t and inexplicably she felt like she could cum again just like this but not quite. And then her urethra gave way.

“Ohmy god,” Ivy choked. The piss flooded out of her.

It didn’t even feel like she was sitting in the passenger seat of her girlfriend’s car, her entire bottom was so suddenly drenched. She might as well have been sitting in the tub in a few inches of bathwater. Hot, very slightly piss-scented, bathwater.

It was euphoric. She might’ve been cumming again, for all the pleasure searing through her as her release hissed through her panties and pooled on the fabric seat faster than it could soak it up. She genuinely couldn’t tell.

The stream was hot and steady against her fingers as it sprayed out of her. Absently, she petted along her inner labia.

“Shit,” Nora said, like she was in awe. “Shit.”

The stream started to peter out, in fits and bursts. Just when Ivy thought it was over another gush would start up, each one a little weaker than the last.

There was a dull drip, drip, drip as the puddle on the seat dripped onto the floorboards.

Nora’s eyes darted between the road and Ivy, with a desperate sort of want. “Oh my god, Ives. That was…”

“I think I’m still going,” Ivy said. She felt a little fuzzy around the edges, numb in the very tips of her fingers and toes and slightly cross eyed. Fucked out.

“Fuck,” Nora whispered, enthralled.

The final dredges of her bladder’s contents were still dribbling out of her, like her urethra couldn’t quite figure out how to close back up. Ivy tried to force it a bit, by clenching up, but all that caused was a violent shiver to rush up her spine and a soft little gasp.

Finally, finally, Ivy felt herself stop peeing.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, satisfied and spent and high on sex.

“You okay?” Nora asked. Her hand was back to Ivy’s thigh, mindless of the piss starting to cool on her skin.

“Yeah,” Ivy sighed, sleepy and pliant. “M’great. Maybe, uh, in a bit you could get a towel outta the back?”

“Yeah,” Nora agreed. “’Course, baby.”

#omovember #omorashi #fem omo #day 1 #original work #piss kink #original character #omovember 2023 #fic

173 notes · View notes

ambiguouspuzuma · 2 months

Text

Algae

"I'm sure you've hard around the Bās system," she said, in faltering Human English: pronouncing hard rather than heard, and confusing around and about. But Objects in the Mirror gave her points for trying. Most emissaries would open in their own language, and just expect him to keep up.

"The solar flare? Yes, of course. Awful, awful news."

He folded his limbs in the Bās gesture for commiseration, and she reciprocated with an appreciative click. She wasn't indigenous Bāsic - not unless she was hiding a couple of arms under her gown - but emissaries were encouraged to adopt the planet of each posting as if it were their own.

"How long do they think until... you know?"

"Forty taons, more or less. A few more sons, and it will all be gone."

"A few generations," he translated. "It almost doesn't bear thinking about. Millennia of civilisation, and then the universe does this. I'm so sorry."

"Me too."

"I do speak Eastern Bāsic, if that's easier for you," Objects in the Mirror continued, wondering which would be her preference. She might have been born in the Com belt, from the shade and texture of her skin. "Or a few dialects of Comon. I was only on Earth for fifty taons, so I never went entirely native."

His correct guess was rewarded by another click, although her tone turned apologetic. "Sorry, is my ascent that strong? I grew up on Com-5, so Honsun is my baby tongue - but I'd like to perverse with Human, if you don't mind too much. It's good to have the practice."

"English it is." He smiled in the Human fashion, with his teeth instead of his eyes. "What else can I do for you?"

"As you will know, we have enjoyed sentries of peace. A perfect equilibrium. We spawn, we die, and our populations remain much the same. Our worlds remain much the same, held in balance to exactly meet our needs. But that balance has been tipped. This solar flare follows volcanic activity on Com-2, and soon we will be two worlds down. We will need new homes, and fast."

"I'm no terraformer," Objects in the Mirror said. "I'm a cultural researcher. I study the way things are, preserved, rather than changing what they might be."

"You know Earth," the emissary said. "If we have exhausted our own planets, we must look to bring others into the fold. Make our homes amongst them, if we can. You've been there, done it. Is there space?

"Space?" He chuckled at that. "Mankind abhors a vacuum. They can't see a blank page without filling it. Men are like a culture of algae, you understand. They'll always grow to fill their cell, their dish, and overflow if you forget to replace the lid. That's why we've kept them at arm's length. We want to keep the little that we have."

"They would take our homes? Destroy the rest of our balance?"

"They might not mean to, but yes." He crossed his various limbs in contemplation. "Not all of them, of course. You won't be familiar with their hobby of keeping bonsai trees, but they follow our approach to planets: looking inwards, all effort on perfecting what you have, and maintaining it in that state, as we do with our societies. But most men are more like weeds. They have no patience for perfection. Only growth drives them: more land, more wealth. More people. They breed like haraguti, and are never content in one place for long."

That concept was foreign to Com-5 as it was here. Objects in the Mirror knew that the emissary would have been raised with the same philosophy of life: home was home, and they would build it upwards before spreading out. All resources were devoted to improving the lot of their society, raising the baseline, no individual left behind, rather than expanding it - fighting wars whilst children starved at home, and leaving more misery in their wake.

Other than emissaries like her, researchers like him, there was little desire for citizens to leave their home systems, where everything was different to their tastes. A move to Earth would be a desperate measure, born of desperate times. But humans would colonise a barren rock as soon as they were given the means, just to see it done. Whatever the hardship, they would endure it, out of some driving need to overcome each barrier in front of them, and then the next, and then the next, whatever the personal cost.

"They've been on Earth a thousand years," she said. "They seem fairy content."

"Only because we've stopped them," he explained. "Their history is one of conquest. Every state has tried to spill over into its neighbours, taking from others and churning up their land, rather than building a paradise on their own soil. Every enterprise, whatever its success, chases constant growth and profit above preserving what they have. Do you know much about sharks?"

"Are they the ones with the tentacles?"

"No, but I suppose it doesn't matter. Aquatic predators. Big teeth. A man once told me that they need to keep moving or they die, and I think that men are the same. They're irrepressible, so we decided to repress them. We thought it better to keep them there." He paused. "Of course, could use a little irrepressible now."

"How do you mean?" the emissary asked. He wasn't sure if she meant that last point, or if he'd passed the limits of her vocabulary, in which case he'd have to repeat that whole thing. He took a gamble on the former.

"Are you familiar with concept of pioneer species? They're often seen as weeds, but they serve a vital ecological role. Fast spreading, fast reproducing, able to adapt to virgin land, terraforming it for others to follow. You get algae on an island first, and it creates the mulch for complex plants to grow in."

"Algae and weeds again," she said. "So what do you suggest? You said we can't go to Earth, because they will come to us."

"Or we could point them in the other direction, and see what else they find," he considered; arms still crossed, face still smiling. "Perhaps it's time to open the lid."

#writing #short story #writeblr #creative writing #original writing #original fiction

18 notes · View notes

ronaldofandom · 1 year

Text

Worlds Apart

A short drabble full of angst and maybe mild fluff. No warnings

Summary: A different take on the garage scene where Robert assaults Akhtar. Akhar refuses to grovel for forgiveness, shaken by this injustice-laden world.

.....................................................

‘Akhtar.’

Bheem was inside the garage, segregating the new supply of spare parts in the right boxes.

‘Akhtar, bahar aao.’

(Akhtar, come outside.)

Bheem’s head shot up this time. This new name, albeit sweet, was so alien to him. At times, he still forgot who he was pretending to be.

‘Aaya, abba-jaan.’

(Coming, father.)

A British guard was standing outside. To notify them in advance of an officer’s arrival, who didn’t want to wait for a second more in this swamp than he absolutely had to.

Maqsood Bhai wanted to put Akhtar, their most skilled mechanic, in charge. That was the cover story. In reality, he put Akhtar in front when any of these foreign men came knocking. In the hope that maybe someday, some door will open for him.

The men kept to themselves, though, not willing to engage in any small talk, mostly in a rush to get out of this dump. Some even threw the money on the ground while walking away instead of the most basic human courtesy of handing it to the workers.

Human. That was the point, wasn’t it? The Britishers thought of the locals as lesser humans, if that at all. The Nizam’s entourage deemed the tribals as barbaric, lesser-evolved primates. Not deserving to be a part of civil societies.

Bheem often wondered if the fate of his kind could ever be any different. Or if generation after generation would continue to be hunted, harassed, and humiliated. In their own land. In their own country.

With a heavy heart, he went inside to bring out the necessary tools. When he came out, the garb of Akhtar was on.

The officer walked in, and Akhtar cringed a little. This man was particularly unpleasant. But he was with a woman this time. So, Akhtar hoped he would be somewhat civil.

‘You - you were the one who serviced my bike last time, right?’

Robert pointed menacingly at Akhtar.

‘How utterly useless is your work? The bike didn’t run for even a week. It’s not even starting.’

‘Janaab - main abhi dekh leta hoon.’

(Sir, I will just check it now.)

Akhtar got to work and quickly figured out the issue.

‘Arey sahib, ye toh reserve me hain. Dekhiye.’

(Oh sir, this was in reserve. Look.)

Bheem smiled and started the bike in no time. And the woman, Carol, started giggling at Robert, calling him silly.

As her giggles got more pronounced, Robert’s ego got more bruised. How dare this insignificant creature make him an object of ridicule in front of the woman he had been eyeing for weeks? No - this insect needed to be crushed under his feet.

The next second, Akhtar felt the full blow of Robert’s baton on his face. He fell down - both with the impact and shock of it.

He could hear Abba Jan pleading to the barbarian, with folded hands, to forgive his son. The other mechanics did the same, falling to their knees before the officer.

For what? What was his fault? That he had dared to be right, to be intelligent? That there was something where he was BETTER than the white-skinned man? For what wapt reason should that be a crime?

Carol gasped on the side. Good, thought Robert. Let me show you who’s the man.

He wasn’t an ordinary man, after all. He was a Special Officer in the Royal British Forces who wasn’t used to a frivolous woman calling him out.

‘You did it on purpose, you greedy scum. Just to loot more money from me.’

Robert kicked his boot in Akhtar’s face. When Akhtar’s arm came up to shield himself, Robert pressed the boot harder, digging the pointy sole into his skin.

Akhtar refused to grovel to be spared. He wouldn’t give this coward that satisfaction. Which infuriated him even more.

‘ROBERT.’

All heads turned sideways in the direction of the loud scream.

A woman stood there, looking appalled, horrified rather.

The horror turned to rage as she walked toward the scene of crime.

Robert was frozen in his spot. His boot still hovering over Akhtar.

Akhtar recognized her instantly. But was too shocked to react.

Maqsood bhai looked at her warily as yet another white person. He wondered what business she had here.

Jenny stood next to Akhtar, squaring up to Robert.

‘Get away from him. This very instant.’

She said through gritted teeth. The coldness in her voice and the hot rage on her face made Robert follow her instruction instantly.

Maqsood bhai helped Akhtar get up, gently wiping the dirt from his kurta. He didn’t know what was transpiring between these two foreigners, but he wanted to get his son away from whatever twisted power play this was.

When he tried to pull Akhtar inside the garage, Jenny reached out blindly on her side and grabbed Akhtar’s wrist. She couldn’t dare to look at him yet, but they weren’t done here.

‘Apologise to him.’

‘I am sorry, WHAT? Do you realize what you are saying, Ma’am?’

‘You heard me.’

Robert was seething, his jaws clenched. Perfectly aware of Carol and the filthy civilians being witnesses to his dressing down.

‘Ma’am - this man was stealing from me. And other officers. I caught him red-handed. Trust me, I let him go easy. Someone else would have thrown him in the barracks for weeks.’

Jenny knew there was so truth in that, but she wanted to humiliate him further. She looked behind him to find the other woman, who seemed equally disgusted with Robert.

‘Carol - is that what happened?’

Carol denied it without hesitation, laying down what exactly went down. Robert clenched his fists at her stupidity.

There was no way he would apologize to these low lives. What could Jenny do, anyway? Yes, she was a lady of noble blood, but she was a woman, after all. Which British commander would admonish him for mistreating these scums at the words of a woman? Robert was willing to roll the dice on this one.

Jenny saw the challenge on his face. She was prepared for this situation.

‘Oh, but I am not going to tell them about this situation now, am I? I wonder what Commander Bricks would say if he were to know that you misbehaved with ME inappropriately? I wonder if it would reach my Aunt and Uncle too?’

Robert nearly shat his pants at the deviousness of her scheme. He knew he was beaten. It was her word against his. And in this, a Lady of noble blood would win any day.

Why did she mount such a defense for a native? What was he to her anyway?

Dejected, he turned towards Akhtar, who was staring at Jenny open-mouthed in stunned silence. He couldn’t grasp everything being said but could sense she was fighting on his behalf.

‘I am sorry.’

It felt like someone had forced hot molten iron down his throat.

With one curt bow at Jenny, Robert rode off on his bike. Leaving Carol behind.

‘Carol - thank you for what you did. Here, pls take my car. I will find my way back.’

Carol smiled at her, looked apologetically at Akhtar, and drove away in Jenny’s car.

There was nothing left to do but to look at him now. All her courage seemed to vanish in thin air. Slowly, she turned towards him, bracing herself for his injuries.

Thankfully they weren’t much, but the sheer injustice of the situation made her eyes well up.

The onlookers stared with rapt attention, as did Maqsood Bhai. Who was this foreign woman? Who not only stood up for one of their own but was crying for him too?

Akhtar didn’t like so many curious eyes on Jenny. Before people started gossiping about the nature of her relationship with him, he gently guided her inside the garage and lowered the shutters. Maqsood Bhai asked everyone to resume work outside, and slowly the crowd dissipated.

Once inside, they stood awkwardly, not knowing how to approach the other.

The sound of Maqsood Bhai walking in with a first aid kit was a welcome distraction.

‘Umm…may I..may I do this please, if you don’t mind?’

Jenny looked at the older man tentatively.

Akhtar saw the wariness of Abba-jaan towards her. He hadn’t been at ease since seeing her close to Akhtar.

He took the first aid kit from his father and placed it in Jenny’s hand, gesturing to her that he would be back in a minute. Jenny nodded, and the two men walked inside the house through a connected door from the garage.

Once inside, Maqsood Bhai unleashed a barrage of questions on Akhtar about who she was, how they knew each other, and what she was doing there. Akhtar told him everything - from the time he had seen her outside the palace to the market visit.

The older man seemed tentative. Why did a white woman show such concern and empathy toward his son? And he reached the obvious conclusion. Making Akhtar blush a little.

‘Aisa nahi hain, Abba. Woh bas aisi hi hain. Nek. Baki logon jaisi nahi hain.’

(It’s not what you think, Abba. She is like that only. Kind and sweet. Different from the rest of her kind.)

Maqsood’s heart melted at the sweet innocence of his son. He had become like a son to him in all these months.

Oh, my sweet child. He wanted to tell him. You want to see the good in everyone, even those people. But one day, I worry, this trusting heart will be your doom.

He chose to not say that, not wanting to add to Akhtar’s already troubled thoughts. But he expressed his concerns differently.

He asked Akhtar to not be alone with the woman for long. In all his years of staying close to the palace, Maqsood had understood what Jenny had threatened that British officer with. While that man had some chance to survive against such an accusation, purely for the color of his skin, Akhtar would be dead on the spot, should such an accusation is ever directed at him. Even if she doesn’t accuse him, his fate would be the same if people started gossiping about the two of them. He would be hanged for defiling a noble lady.

Akhtar was horrified beyond measure at what his father just implied, and immediately jumped to Jenny’s defense.

‘Abba - aisa mat boliye. Ye jaayaz nahi hain. Ek masoom pe bohot bada ilzaam laga diya aapne. Usne jo kaha or kiya, mere liye kiya. Uske liye use dosh mat dijiye.’

(Abba - please don’t say that. It’s not right. You have just accused an innocent of something so dastardly. Whatever she said or did, it was for me. Don’t blame her or judge her for that.)

Maqsood just hung his head in resignation, clearly unable to sway his son’s mind about this stranger. He left Akhtar with one last thought - to ask the woman to not escalate the situation with Robert. Akhtar didn’t need any enemies, not the white ones for sure, especially given the nature of his mission. What if that man resents you and comes for you in the middle of the night, with some fake accusation? Would she be here to save you, every-time?

Akhar saw the wisdom in his words. And the man left them alone, going back to his customers.

When Akhtar walked back to the garage, he saw Jenny sitting on a dirty stool. Which had oil-stains all over it. Her silk skirt would have gotten ruined, but she didn’t seem to care. She was too busy arranging the ointment and bandages to notice her surroundings. Once again, his heart felt like she didn’t belong here. This was no palace, no proper place for her.

At least she wasn’t crying anymore.

She saw him and pointed to the stool she had set opposite herself, leaving oil stains on her hand too. He just wanted to wipe them clean.

Akhtar sat in front of her, and she started to tend to his injuries carefully. Stopping after every drop of ointment, checking if it burnt & blowing air on the wound. But the man didn’t even hiss.

He was in a trance. Who are you? His heart wanted to ask her. How are you like this? Why are you doing this for me?

If there were others like her in her people, then there was some hope left in this world afterall.

Jenny meticulously dressed his forearm and the bruise under his eye. Tentatively, she pointed towards his chest, to the bruise right under his neck. Akhtar silently unbuttoned the top two buttons of his kurta. She scooted closer and carefully applied the ointment there, returning to a safe distance as soon as she was done.

But in retreating, the box bumped against his bandaged arm, and Akhtar groaned in pain, sending shockwaves through her.

She had summoned all her will to not break down, but his pained voice was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Tears streamed down her face unabashedly, filling him with distress.

He didn’t know what to do, how to reach out to her, and the appropriate behavior in this situation. But he couldn’t see her cry like this for him. It pained his heart immensely.

He placed a shaky hand on her knee, and she looked up at him. They gazed at each other for a few moments. Unspoken, unspeakable emotions shared in tender gaze. She covered his hand with hers and squeezed lightly.

No apology would be enough for the injustice she had witnessed, and with such impunity. She shuddered to think what would have happened had she not arrived. During the last two years in India, Jenny had seen a very different version of events than the ones told of the British Empire back home. Of how the Empire had brought about development, peace, and culture in the colonies. And she knew that her exposure was only the tip of the iceberg. The hidden, ugly nature of the beast was still unknown to her. And to most others in London. Or maybe they knew it but didn’t care about it. Which was even worse.

‘Jen-ny.’

It was the first time she had heard him say her name. And was marvelled by the sweetness of his voice.

‘Shukriya.’

(Thank you.)

He smiled at her. But the smile vanished with her sad chuckle.

‘You are thanking me? Oh - look at the irony of it all. How do you not hate me? And everyone like me? How are you even able to tolerate my company right now? Or….is it….is it something you feel you….have to do…like you have no choice but to entertain my wishes?’

Her voice broke, as did his heart. He grabbed both her hands, squeezing them, holding them close to his chest.

‘Because….if that’s the case and…if my presence bothers you as much as it bothers your father, then I….I won’t…see you again. I…will leave you alone.’

She cried harder. Akhtar wanted to cry too, at his helplessness. He wanted to console her, but he didn’t have the right to get any closer than they already were.

‘What a day, huh? I came here, hoping to find you. And look what I found. I can’t come back from this, can I? You will never want anything to do with anyone who looks like me, would you?’

Akhtar couldn’t take it anymore. His hand stroked her hair gently, while making shushing noises like one would do to a crying baby. It worked miracles; she stopped crying in a few moments and gathered herself.

Unable to find any clean cloth around, he picked up some cotton from the first aid box and wiped her tears. Once she was more composed, he fetched her some water, and she dipped her scarf in it to wipe her face.

It was starting to get late. The sun had set some time back. Jenny looked at her watch, and rose up.

‘I have taken too much of your time already. I-I should go.’

Akhtar didn’t let go of her hands, not yet. He knew her car wasn’t there. He pointed to his bike, offering to drop her back.

‘Oh no. Please, I don’t want to bother you. My friend’s house is close by, I am going there. I am going to walk, the way is straightforward.’

She smiled and shook her head at him. But he didn’t let go of her hands, and pointed to the dark outside.

She couldn’t resist any longer, especially when she really really didn’t want to.

He led her out of the back door, brought his bike there, waited patiently till she settled comfortably behind him and drove off to the address he had given her.

Jenny knew this could very well be her last few minutes with him. Ever. Maybe his father will convince him tonight to stay away from her, and maybe he would be right. Maybe his own heart will give up, feeling no love lost for her kind.

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, resting her face against his shoulder. Tremors ran through Akhtar, and the bike shook a bit from his momentary lack of focus. But he didn’t react any further and just drove on.

Jenny was glad he didn’t pull back. She tried to live the lifetime she had dreamed of in just these few minutes with him.

...............................................

My BheemJenny heart hurt while writing this, but this is a very practical and realistic scenario that I wanted to explore.

As always, would love to know your thoughts :)

@irisesforyoureyes @rambheem-is-real @thewinchestergirl1208 @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @rorapostsbl @yehsahihai @budugu @maraudersbitchesassemble @justmeand-myinsight @rambheemisgoated @rosayounan @jrntrtitties @obsessedtoafault @rambheemlove @jjwolfesworld @alikokinav @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @bromance-minus-the-b @dumdaradumdaradum @lovingperfectionwonderland @annieginny @chaanv @ssabriel @milla984 @kaagazkefool @boochhaan @mesimpleone @filesbeorganized @ladydarkey @teddybat24 @stanleykubricks @burningsheepcrown @veteran-fanperson @ronika-writes-stuff @beingmes-blog @yonderghostshistories @nisreenart @chaidrivenwhore @bheemaxrama @carminavulcana @umbrulla @mizutaama @rosefulmadness @gifseafins @fangirlshrewt97 @astrafangs @sada-siva-sanyaasi @voidsteffy

#talesofthetigerrr #rrr #bheem #ntr jr #jr ntr #love #tarak #bheem rrr #komuram bheem #rrr fanfic #bheemjenny #jenny #tigerrr2023

56 notes · View notes

coldshrugs · 9 months

Note

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss for io and estinien? :eyes:

thank you owen!! this was a lot of fun to write even though it consumed my every waking thought for a week :> beyond wanting

pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau word count: 1.9k note: explicit content here. please do not interact if you are a minor.

A simple rhythm has overtaken Estinien’s life.

Most of the day, he can be found training with the Host, accompanied by Zero. Then there are bound to be a few stops around the island to help with smaller errands at Vrtra’s behest, and the occasional visit to the orphanage if he has the time. He returns to his quarters–their quarters, now–to greet Io and bathe before dinner.

Now, dinner has been finished, the plates cleaned and put away, and they sink into the peace lingering at the end of each day.

Evening brushes against the window and settles into the corners of the suite. It will be another hour before darkness covers all, but even the brightest colors in the room soften, tinted blue in the half-light.

Io leans against the credenza, just out of Estinien's reach, and lights an oil lamp. He watches her from a plush settee, reclining against an array of colorful velvet pillows lining its back. His shirt hangs off her shoulder and, because she almost matches him for height, exposes her legs.

A perfect fit, he thinks, admiring how the fabric bunches around the slope of her thigh where the rich wood bites into her hip.

He gazes openly, and when Io finishes her task and turns, she is unsurprised to find him looking. It's been nearly a year, and she no longer shies away.

“Handsome,” she whispers, grazing his cheek with soft fingers as she passes, smiling softly as one drags over his bottom lip, and his heartbeat makes itself known. She leaves him in a bubble of warmth and continues to their bedroom.

A moment later, a lulling melody fills the suite, plucked from the standing harp in the next room. The song is a mystery to him, but judging by the frequency with which she plays it, it is one of her favorites. He knows only that it reminds him of clear water, like walking by a stream with the sun on his neck.

His head rolls back against the pillows as he listens, eyes closed, and he likes this song, too. He likes all of this.

There was a time when contentment was an unfathomable concept. Talk of “ease” and “respite” prickled against his need for action, a reminder of his less-than-pleasant adolescence, perhaps, during which he was told more than once that his intensity was unbecoming and impolite. Ishgardian society found him unsightly, a walking wound they couldn’t stop from weeping, and their placidity lodged under his skin like a foreign object begging for removal. It feels like a memory from another man’s life.

Tonight, he feels only fullness. The curry they made together, the chilled coconut-infused liqueur he picked up from Palaka’s Stand earlier in the week, his love for Io and the little routine they’ve built: by all of these, he is completely, perfectly sated. A sigh, heavy and annoyingly happy, passes his lips, and he lifts his feet onto the low table in front of him.

Eventually, the song ends.

Soft footfalls signal Io’s return to the front room. The cushion under him dips on one side, then the other as she climbs onto his lap, a knee braced on each side. Her familiar weight is one more comfort to add to his list of improbable blessings.

“You play that often,” Estinien murmurs, pausing when her hands cup his face. Her thumbs stroke a tandem rhythm across his cheekbones. He exhales, leaning into the touch. “What is it called?”

“What do you mean? It doesn’t have a name.” She kisses his cheek, his jaw. The corner of his mouth pulls into a lazy grin, and she kisses him there, too. He opens his eyes to find fondness pouring out of her every feature. “A few bits and pieces of songs from all over, my own arrangement. But if you would know the whole of it, it makes me think of you.”

She buries her face in the space between his neck and shoulder, and he knows it is, in part, to hide after her admission. A sweetness he will have to savor later–she has another motive. The routine shifts.

Io’s lips brush his neck, washing his skin in the heat of her breath as she unbuttons his shirt. She works quickly, and each button freed earns a delicate kiss, moving ever closer to his jaw. Her hips roll against him, effortlessly cleaving through his previous satisfaction.

Estinien’s breath shakes. His heart thunders under her hands shifting on his chest. He runs his fingers through her hair but doesn't dare interrupt.

Her tongue meets his skin, flame to paper, and with another grind into his lap, she ensures the fire is set. The motion is slow, deliberate, searching for him. A delicious heat sparks in his belly, and Io hums against his neck when she feels him harden under the fabric between them.

His pang of desire echoes in her shuddering body. One taste of friction and she threatens to fall apart. Wherever this streak of boldness came from, it must’ve built in her mind for some time.

"Touch me?" she asks, softly in the dying light, her mouth on his neck. "I need to feel you tonight."

She sits back and removes her stolen shirt, tossing it somewhere next to them. Disheveled waves of midnight hair fall around her shoulders, blue eyes boring into him as he takes in the sight of her, bare and beautiful. She sits above him, brown skin gilded by the glow of lamplight. Her lips glisten, parted and waiting.

Estinien draws his fingertips over her waist and marvels as gooseflesh blooms in the wake of his touch, watching the rise and fall of her chest quicken as the pads of his palms brush across her back. His thumb sweeps over the small swell of her chest, across her nipple and her eyes fall closed.

She rocks into him, once, twice, and the Hell of Fire itself does not burn like he does for her. A ragged groan tears out of his throat and she laughs quietly.

Io rolls his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. She helps him out of it and discards it with the other. Together, they get his pants off without too much effort, and she smiles down at him, a smug little thing.

“Pleased with yourself?” he asks, breath hitching as she reaches between them and strokes him, absently, as if this isn’t the very outcome she desired. She toys with him.

“Oh, very much so.” Fuck, he adores her voice. Low, sweet, taking on a quiet giddiness as she watches him writhe in her grip. “Come here.”

Io holds his chin between her thumb and forefinger, tugs his face towards her, and the smile doesn’t fade when their lips meet. A giggle as he pulls her closer, aligns them just so. And then all goes still–the laughter, the kiss, even her breathing–as he eases into her.

The world ends in this moment; Io’s hand stroking the back of his neck, the tight press of their bodies casting a single, long shadow against the wall, her soft gasp when he has filled her completely. She closes her eyes again, her frozen expression caught somewhere between ache and bliss. Estinien feels it too, and the edge of his vision blurs.

His turn to laugh, to kiss her neck, her collarbone, to drag his tongue over the tight peak of her nipple. Io trembles at the touch, nails dragging a rough path across his scalp. A little moan as her head tilts back, and he turns his attention to her other breast. She is entranced by the heat of his mouth, but now that they're here, Estinien needs more. He takes it upon himself to remind her:

“Io.”

“Mhm?” Her fingers play in his hair, glide over the blade of his ear. She lifts her head, meets his gaze with hazy eyes.

“Move.”

She sucks in a breath. Color rises to her cheeks at the command, but she doesn't look away.

She begins with slow, tight circles. The roll of her body is hypnotic. Estinien leans back into the pillows and clutches her hips, but doesn't guide her. There is very little he enjoys more than watching her take her pleasure this way, in control of their every sensation as she rides him.

It's an indulgent dance, and she takes her time. With each lift of her hips, Io falls back to him, soft, heavy, savoring the way they connect. She builds him up slowly, taking him just to the edge and holding him there.

The movements grow less measured as she takes him deeper. The tease has stopped, and she fucks him properly now, seeking both their ends. Raspy little moans fall from her lips as she renders herself wordless.

He feels it begin. The soft throb of her body around his cock, spreading imperceptibly through her core as she arches back with the gentle force of it.

Io stills, breathing hard. Spent, but not finished.

Not yet.

She looks down at him and braces a hand on his chest. She rises, face set in soft determination, and collides with him once more. Harder, deeper. He runs his hands over her back, then they tighten on her waist and thigh.

It does nothing to anchor him.

“Gods damn it, Io, that’s–” Estinien loses the thought to a rough moan.

Loses all sense to the silken stretch of her cunt around him, tenderly pushing him past the point of bliss and he is so close to breaking. An excruciating torment. Every nerve in his body pulls inward, toward the slick, rhythmic friction she creates.

Io knows this–she reads him as plainly as any book she's ever laid hands on.

She leans forward and drags her lips up his chest, and his heartbeat rises to drum against her mouth. The kiss continues to his neck, his chin, and finally, his mouth, caught halfway through some obscenity he barely even registers. She kisses him–hard, hot, wanting him beyond wanting.

He returns it, or tries to, open-mouthed and sloppy as he topples over the brink. His hips jerk with the involuntary, impossible need to be closer. Some low, guttural sound rattles out of him–a gasp, maybe?–harsh and vulgar. Io kisses him through it, softening her touch as inviting pressure turns to tender sensitivity.

It is a long moment before he recovers. Darkness pushes its way into the suite, but doesn't touch them.

Io settles comfortably against his body, head on his shoulder, holding him as he regains his mind. When his breathing steadies, he lifts her face to press his forehead against hers.

"Apologies for disturbing your rest," she whispers into the breath they share. "You looked so... happy. I suppose it stirred something. Was that to your liking?"

Estinien laughs against her lips, nods twice. "When isn’t it? You are a wonder."

Her smile is radiant–triumphant–and he is happy to have put it there.

The world begins in this moment, in a sphere of light nestled in the dark. Estinien, with his lover on his chest, trailing her fingers over his skin shining with their mingled sweat. The tickle of her hair on his shoulder, the flutter of her eyelashes as she looks at him like he is something beautiful, someone worth loving. He squeezes her closer.

Soon, they will clean up. Maybe draw another bath to share. Then they will go to bed, exhausted and satisfied, ready to do all of it again tomorrow. Soon, but not now.

Now, Io quietly hums a tune. It reminds him of cool water, and reminds her of him.

#azia writes #io laithe #io/estinien #i thought this prompt was from viking but owen it's YOURS i am so sorry if this is So Much LMAO #i mean. i guess this satisfies the prompt. there is a lot of kissing #feeling silly and goofy about themmmm

21 notes · View notes

concealed-carrie · 2 years

Text

OPERATOR

I have never felt this safe in a hospital before. I am secured to this table, its cold surface yields nothing, I am awash in sterilizing light, and yet despite it all I am perfectly still. Med-techs worry over me, bustle about the room, maneuvering the requisite blades and appendages into place. Their movements are coordinated to a degree that implies a form of communication that I am not yet privy to. In their reflective faces I see myself shaved and skinny from prep week, covered in dashed lines and labels for different cuts of meat like this girl I once knew jumped me with a stick of liquid eyeliner. A part of me recognizes an inherent grotesquery in this situation, but the others remain silent, and the concerns of the first are dismissed. It’s like they said in the pamphlet: A weapon does not fear. A weapon does not regret. Everything is going to be okay.

A little later they’re calibrating me against a selection of pig carcasses impaled to make them stand on their hind legs. An uninitiated observer might assume that this is a test of my cutting power or penetrative capability, but no: this is about software, reflex. I am to proceed from this side of the range to the other, performing whatever action feels most natural on each successive carcass. To this end, I employ what they’ve given me. Limbs fold outward into blades and open panels cascade shimmering razor-filament in a bridal shroud. Joints vent steam with a teakettle wail as denticles flare up from skin. No one can touch me like this. Miles underground, under fluorescent lighting, I can finally feel the sun. Every part of me is beautiful. Every part of me cuts.

Thus unfurled, I begin my task, separating meat from meat from meat as I work my way to the other side of the room. The tactile experience of butchery is satisfying and somehow familiar. Text pulses neon pink in my peripheral vision as I dance from one carcass to the next: objective complete: proceed, objective complete: proceed. Reading those words, my internal narrator slips unbidden into a softer, sweeter, more insistent voice.

Blood arcs, skin opens like parted lips, and I feel an electric tightness mounting in my core. Potential energy winding up inside me, coalescing into something dense and warm, begging for escalation and release. Objective complete: next one, doll. I shiver. This sensation is foreign to me, but it feels like such a natural response to present stimuli – as elemental as salivating when you smell cooked salmon or tensing up when someone raises their voice – that it barely registers as out of the ordinary.

When I approach the end of the line I notice that the last carcass is still alive, chained to its post rather than stuck through with it. For an instant, all my momentum catches in my throat. Trussed up vertically it looks too much like a cadaver or a diseased person, approaching that species-level trigger that inspires disgust at the sight of one of our own too far gone to be worth saving. It’s not screaming yet, just breathing high and fast and ragged. One soft eye rolls down to meet my gaze. The other is milky white, filmed over or turned inwards. Both are pleading. Outstanding objective(s). 0.43 second delay registered. Be good now. That voice isn’t mine anymore, if it ever was. It’s something sharing space with me, dripping hot syrup into my brainstem. My mind conjures (or, more likely, is supplied with) an impression of a woman with the body of an infinite serpent. She looks like a field of stars miles off the grid from the back of a stolen pickup, smells like clove and carrion and autumn petrichor, feels like every girl who I’ve ever been held by and won’t ever see again. She coils around my most secret self and waits there, tremulous with anticipation.

The pig starts screaming and doesn’t stop until I’m done taking it apart.

As its internals slough ropelike onto the tile floor, I feel the presence in my head warm to me, suffusing me with belonging and purpose. In this moment, I know that I would do anything in the world to continue to earn its love. Call it premonition: I will look pretty for the parades and let them show me off at trade shows. I will paint over my chassis and file down my serial number when deniability is required. I will flay the skin from insurgents in countries deemed profitable. I will rip the breath and the lightning from as much meat as it takes to make you proud of me. I’ll be your perfect weapon, I promise.

Afterwards, I note a string of precum leaking from my half-hard clit, and register an anachronistic twinge of embarrassment that lasts until it vanishes down the inset drain with all the other fluids. Another ping. Now the text is center justified and speaking directly to me, filling my vision, my mind, my world:

wetware/hardware calibration complete

sync rate 97%

operator install successful

good girl <3

#original writing #empty spaces #combat dolls #gonna start posting some of my old stuff here ig #and new stuff im yirtzeh hashem #apologies to the college fiction workshop I field tested this on #you all are so brave

118 notes · View notes

redactedthegreat · 1 year

Text

Three Rings

Content Warning: forced transformation

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you realize you’re dreaming? I always wake up right after the realization, like the shock of it breaks the illusion. But this dream was different, backwards almost.

I can’t remember how it started, it was like my subconscious pulled my conscious mind into the dream at the moment of realization. My first memory is of saying “This is a dream?” right as it all clicked.

It made sense why I was confused, it was different than any dream I’d ever had before. It almost felt more real than being awake.

It was like all my senses perceived the area around me in perfect clarity; the colors and brush strokes of every painting along the walls, the smell of soap and stale blood lingering under a foreign perfume, the sweat on my own skin. Even my emotions felt heightened, I was afraid.

I was seated in some sort of tattoo chair, my arms and legs restrained with heavy straps. The parlor looked hygienic enough, but it was cluttered with pictures and objects from what must have been decades of use.

Standing over me was the person I intuitively understood to be my captor. We had just been talking, or so I felt, but I had no memory of the conversation.

I couldn’t tell their ethnicity or gender, I wasn’t even sure they were human. They had smooth pale skin with intensely blue eyes. Their ears came up to gentle points, and their hair was a shimmery white-gray, falling flat and straight like a cascade of liquid silver.

They were wearing some sort of long shirt over a pair of short pants, and every visible inch of skin was covered in tattoos and piercings. Most depicted things I had no understanding of. A bemused smirk lingered on their lips.

“Yes and no, you’ve crossed into the realm of night, the land of dreams.” They spoke in a lilting voice that was gratingly condescending.

“But this is a dream, like none of this is real?” I tried to clarify.

My captor let out a chirping laugh “This is very real for me, I live here. But no, we are not in your reality. You’ve been sentenced to a new one, I’m here to guide you there.” They stated matter-of-factly.

“Sentenced, what are you talking about?” I asked, pulling a little against the straps. I was held fast, but they weren’t uncomfortably tight.

“By the Court of Night, they reviewed a plea for justice and granted benefaction in the form of these three rings.” They explained, uncurling the long fingers of their hand to show me three polished golden rings.

“None of that makes sense.” I objected, struggling harder. “What are those rings for, and why am I tied down?”

They must have felt my rising panic, because their demeanor took a sudden shift “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to scare you. I know it can be disorienting when you first recover awareness. The rest of this dream will come back with time.” They closed their hand and looked me in the eye. Their irises were impossibly blue, like rings of deep sapphire gemstone. “These rings are attuned to your new reality, once they’re in place your body will adjust to fit.”

They looked to the side and I followed their gaze to a cluttered desk near the back, standing above the papers was a round glass bottle with a stoppered lid. It was filled with something that looked like water, but it gave off a soft pale light. The light cast a shifting mottled pattern that reminded me of the shadows cast by clouds.

“That bottle over there holds the memories and experiences that are missing from your mind.” They held up three slender fingers. “Mind, body, soul. You’re taking the place of yourself in this new reality, so the soul is constant. The rings align your body, and the bottle completes your mind. After that my duty is complete. I’ll escort you back to your body and you can wake up.”

They spelled out the whole process with a simple directness that felt designed to put me at ease. I tried to focus on the content of what they were telling me. “So you’ve got me tied down so you can put those rings on me?” I asked, balling my hands into fists.

The smirk came back to their face “In a sense. These are meant to be worn as piercings.” They said, stepping right up to me. They raised their hand and snapped their fingers. I instantly found myself completely naked.

Honestly I couldn’t remember what I’d been wearing before, dreams can be like that. But suddenly my attention was drawn to my complete lack of clothing. My dick and balls were clearly visible, and the restraints hindered any attempts at modesty. My discomfort seemed to amuse my captor.

“No need to feel shy. I’m a professional.” They lifted one ring from their palm and twisted it. The metal bent in their bare hands, splitting cleanly at the tension point into a sort of spiral shape.

They affixed a hollow needle to one end of the twisted ring. “This is going to pinch a bit.” They warned me.

I balled my fists even tighter and tried to think of something to do or say, but all I could do was watch in shock. My captor moved too fast for me to do much else. In one motion they leaned over my chest, pinched my left nipple between two fingers, and ran the needle through it with their other hand. I felt an intense searing pinch, like stepping on a nail nipple first.

“Augh fuck!” I grunted, but they were absorbed by the task at hand and took no notice. They pulled the ring through and removed the needle, then bent the ring back into place, as effortlessly as bending a paperclip.

The moment the ring was back to its proper shape there was a flash of light, and the metal was whole again, an unbroken loop. At the same instant the pain disappeared, replaced at first with a numbness, and then a growing tingle.

The tingle spread from my nipple and down into my chest. It felt good, too good. Like a hot bath when you’re shivering cold; the shock of heat creates a blissful torture.

“Ooh, fuck.” I groaned and stretched my side. The discomfort was fading, but the pleasure kept building. Deep into my chest, along the muscles, back up through my pec, exploding from the tip of my nipple, where the slim golden ring dangled off me.

My nipple became stiff and swollen, growing larger than I’d ever seen it. As it firmed up, it gripped the ring harder, which intensified the erotic feeling shooting through my chest. My dick responded, stiffening and lengthening as the feeling became more intense.

The flesh under the piercing pulsed in time to my heart beat, swelling and shrinking. Like a rising tide, each swell came larger than the last, until my nipple rested atop a new mound of breast tissue.

“Ooooh…” I moaned as the euphoria waned. My cock was rock hard, and I had been pushed to the precipice of orgasm, but I had no way to stimulate myself over the edge. The ring was still filling me with warm tingles, but they didn’t have the same erotic energy as before.

I looked down at my chest and recoiled at the sight. The right side of my chest looked the same as before, but the left had been transformed. My pec had been replaced with what looked like a woman’s breast. Hairless and bulbous, with a thick erect nipple—the golden ring pierced through the base.

The force of my reaction caused my chest to jiggle. The difference in density between flesh and gold caused the ring to tug a little with each change in direction. “What are you doing to me?” I wailed.

“Preparing you for your new reality.” They replied calmly, moving to my other side. “Your body is quite different there.” They prepared the next ring as they talked, showing little interest in our conversation.

“And in this new reality I’m a woman?” I asked, trying to make sense of what was happening to me.

“It’s a reality where you were born with a very different body.” They said as they pierced my second nipple. There was a brief pause as they fixed the ring and I squirmed in pain. “These rings are enchanted to adjust your self-image.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, still determined to get some answers. My head was fuzzy from the new burst of erotic energy. My dick was leaking precum, but I still hadn’t reached climax. The intense feelings in my chest were holding me at the edge.

“The way you see yourself in your mind’s eye, how you appear in dreams, your subconscious awareness of your own body.” They walked around to stand between my legs.

“Wait, wait, wait!” I pleaded. “Do we need to be in such a rush?” I was stalling for time, but I also wanted more information.

They paused and considered my plea “I guess we have a little time to talk.” Their piercing blue eyes met mine again. Suddenly it became very difficult to think of what to say. There was too much pressure, and my mind was foggy from the disorienting effects of the rings.

“Why does it feel so good?” I blurted out. It was the biggest question on my mind, but it felt too embarrassing to talk about.

A wry smile briefly crossed their lips “The rings are attuned to your new reality. Self-image is built on experiences and sensation; what you’re feeling is years of sensation all rushing into your mind at once. The enchantment dulls the pain, but the pleasure all comes through.” They stated, like it made everything clear.

They resumed the task at hand. I sat in a panicked silence, trying to think of another question as they prepared the final ring.

“This is a dream though, couldn’t you just snap your fingers and change my body?” I asked, doing my best to think through the haze.

“Yes and no. I could change how you look in this dream, but it would cease the moment you wake up. These change your very concept of self.” They said, gesturing with the last gold ring. “Close your eyes and picture yourself on the beach.” They asked me.

As nervous as I was to close my eyes with them so close to me, I didn’t feel like it was a trick. Even if it was, I was at their mercy regardless. I closed my eyes and pictured myself on the beach.

The waves were crashing on the shore. I was barefoot in the sand. My swim trunks were damp from saltwater, and my top was clinging to my breasts. Wait, that’s not right, I swim shirtless. That made me think about people looking at me, seeing my chest.

“Do you understand now?” They asked me. I opened my eyes, they were placing the needle onto the last ring.

“Where are those thoughts coming from? I don’t think like that.” I stammered, coming up with another question.

“That’s exactly how you think now that you’ve absorbed some of the experiences from your new reality. The rings don’t really change your physical body, they change your self-image. It’s that shift that changes the body of your dream-self.”

I tried not to panic, but I found their explanation very unsettling. I tried to imagine myself with my chest as I remembered it, and it came to mind just fine. Masculine and broad, covered in coarse hair, little bumpy nipples. But it was a memory, like remembering my last haircut.

When I looked down I was confronted with what my chest is now: round bulging breasts, virtually hairless, topped with wide tall nipples—each one gripping a slim golden ring with excited tissue.

I let out a groan of misery, imagining that happening to my dick, existing only as a memory. I looked at it, lifting my head a little to see over my breasts. The tip was almost purple with desire. I was still teetering on the edge of climax. If what they said was true, these could be our last moments together.

“Hey, I know this is a weird request, but is there any way you could help me cum just one more time before it’s gone?” I pleaded. My face must have been beet red in embarrassment. I wanted one more ejaculation to remember it by. And even if it was all just a dream, I really wanted to get off. The suspense was bordering on agony.

“Don’t worry, this will help.” They said, pinching a bit of the skin just under the head of my dick and piercing it in the same instant.

The burst of pain would have normally doused my arousal, but I was so close it was almost a turn-on. I prepared myself for what could be my last orgasm with my penis, as a flash united the final ring.

The tingling energy surged through me even more powerfully than before. It raced down my shaft and settled deep into my balls, making my cock twitch and ache.

The power pushed me even closer to climax, but at the same time it felt like the peak was getting higher. Meanwhile I could see my dick sinking lower, shrinking closer to my body. I craned my head to get a better look at what was happening to me.

My balls were pulled up tight to my body, and my dick was standing straight up, hard as a rock, but no larger than it used to be when flaccid.

The energy was flowing down into my pelvis too, causing the flesh to plump up on either side of my junk. It pushed my balls out, but it made my penis look even smaller.

The pleasure continued to build. I was well past the point where I would have usually shot my load. My hands gripped the padded armrests and my legs tensed. My cock began to twitch involuntarily, pulling on my balls with each contraction. It was like I was cumming, but my arousal was still building.

A particularly strong contraction lasted several seconds, and accompanied the sensation of warm honey flowing up from my balls. It happened twice more, filling me with immense satisfaction. It almost felt like a slow-motion ejaculation in reverse.

Each contraction caused my balls to shrink, until they completely vanished between the sides of my growing mound. Only my penis remained, poking straight out the top of the crack.

A moment later another pulse of contractions made my dick twitch and leak. My precum had become clear and copious, running down my shaft and pooling in my new crevice.

Each time my dick flexed, it pointed a little lower, and flexed a little less, until it was aiming straight down and no longer responded to the contractions.

The vision of my dick sinking away was heart wrenching, but the sensation was utterly orgasmic. Better than orgasmic, I never knew such pleasure was possible. Even though my dick had stopped responding to the clenching pulse, my orgasm kept going, rolling deep into my pelvic floor.

“Oh fuck!” I cried out, as I finally crested the peak. In that same moment I felt my dick come apart. The thin fleshy line that ran from the tip of my dick to the base of my balls unfused, splitting to form my inner lips.

I was too absorbed in the moment to take note of it at the time, but an awareness had blossomed in my mind not only of my new shape, but of my new anatomy. I understood that I no longer had a penis, I had a clitoris. I no longer had a scrotum, I had labia. Even if I looked away or closed my eyes, it wouldn’t have mattered. The change was happening inside my head.

At the absolute zenith of my orgasmic series I felt myself ejaculate. Just one little spurt of thin watery fluid, which promptly leaked down my butt.

I gasped for air, catching my breath after what felt like minutes of blissful torture. My pussy was drenched, and still humming with erotic energy, but it didn’t feel like it was building up to anything now.

I looked down at my crotch. All I could see from my seated position was the very top of my slit, with a little golden ring poking out to mark my clit. I leaned back with a resigned sigh. At least they were done sticking needles through me.

“I’ll remove the restraints now, you’ve been very good.” My captor told me, pressing a lever at the base of the chair with their foot. My hands and feet were suddenly freed.

I rubbed my wrists and looked around. “I guess I’m a woman now.” I grunted, stepping to my feet. I wobbled a bit on my still-shaky legs.

“That’s a question you must answer with your heart.” They told me as they walked over to the desk and retrieved the bottle of memories. “The rings will continue to change your body gradually, but this will hasten it greatly. As your mind absorbs the memories of your new reality, it molds your self-image directly.” They looked from the bottle back to me, and they studied my expression for a moment. “Whether or not you come to know yourself as a woman, you have lived a life as a man, secure and complete in your gender. There will always be that part of you in your mind.”

I could tell they were trying to help, but it only made me feel more confused. I nodded my head and reached for the softly glowing bottle. For a moment I thought about smashing it, even if they had a spell to undo it, I just wanted some way to rebel against this whole scheme.

They must have sensed something was up, because they pulled the bottle back before I could reach it and gave me a warning. “This bottle holds another person’s mind. Be very gentle with it. Once you begin drinking you must continue until you’ve ingested every drop. You can pause if you must, but I will not let you stop until it’s finished.”

They handed the bottle to me with great gravitas. It felt much lighter than I’d expected, as if it was empty. I looked at the mottled glowing water in the bottle and then back to my captor.

“What happens after I finish it?” I asked, feeling nervous about beginning something they wouldn’t let me stop.

“You will lose consciousness.” They answered simply, then continued. “You will dream the memories you’re about to ingest, and then you’ll wake up in your new reality.”

“So there will be another person in my head?” I asked. I didn’t understand how this double-memory situation could work.

“Just one person. One person with two sets of memories. In one you were sentenced to a new reality, in the other you asked for a dream of another life.” They explained. I still wasn’t sure what they were saying.

Seeing my blank stare they continued. “To the person in that bottle, your entire life, up to and including now, is a dream they are currently having.” I nodded and they went on “Once you ingest the memories, you will fall asleep, and you will have a dream that includes their entire life.” I nodded again, so far so good. “Once you wake up you will be one person with two memories of their life.” They finished.

I understood what they were telling me, at least in principle, but I couldn’t understand how that was different from two people sharing one body. I would have to see for myself. It didn’t seem like I had much choice in the matter.

I uncorked the bottle and took a deep breath. “I guess this is goodbye.” I told my captor. They just returned a thin smile.

I held the bottle to my lips and took a cautious sip. It tasted like nothing, like perfectly clear water, but it filled my head with feelings. Events, ideas, things I couldn’t process. It made my head swim, and filled me with a sort of intoxicated feeling.

The fluid trickled down my throat, and the energy from the rings surged. I was covered in a vaguely itchy sensation as nearly all my body hair vanished back into my skin.

“You must keep drinking.” My captor warned, not allowing me to get distracted. I put the bottle to my lips again for a deeper swallow.

This time I felt my hips swell with energy and begin to expand. They pushed outward, changing the shape of my pelvis and widening my stance. I stumbled a little, but regained my composure and took another drink.

This time my musculature rearranged itself, thinning my arms and bolstering my new hips. I could feel my center of gravity shift even further. Another gulp and all the fat on my body flowed into a curvier shape, filling in for lost muscle mass.

All the redistribution of weight made me stumble again, worse this time. I had to brace myself on the chair to remain standing. I wanted to stop drinking, the changes were too intense. I tried to put down the bottle but they grabbed my arm.

“You must keep drinking.” They repeated, much more forcefully this time. I complied, putting the bottle to my lips once more. They held it there for me as I chugged mouthful after mouthful.

My fingers grew slender, my feet shrunk down, my hair cascaded past my shoulders. Gulp after gulp I felt the shape of my new life take form in my mind, bending my image until I became a perfect copy.

I swallowed the last bit as I felt my throat tingle with energy. I knew I’d be asleep soon, or awake, or however it worked. I lowered the bottle and tried to open my mouth to speak, but I found myself falling backwards. My captor waved goodbye as they tilted out of view.

The world spun around me and everything went black. I collapsed onto a distant mattress, at home in my new life.

#gender bender #tg story #tgtf #male to female #genital transformation #forced transformation #piercings

42 notes · View notes

almostatomicperfection · 2 years

Text

Coast

Here's a little short story I wrote after watching the movie, I hope I gain enough inspiration here to write many more *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Haiti.

The sky was always unbroken above Shuri's head here, the air dense and nourishing.

It would have felt something treason to articulate this thought out loud, but Wakanda started to affect her the opposite way. Her homeland started to suffocate her until she felt like a foreign body that was ejected and spit out on this remote island.

It did not matter that her people were waiting for her return, that Oyoke was sending messages nonstop. This was bigger than all of them, a wrongness of the universe that impaired her. With the passing weeks, the thought of returning home felt more and more unbearable, the work that awaited her there, for the first time, felt what it maybe always should have felt; a burden.

She did not make a point of avoiding water. She was living on an island, after all; it would have been an absurd objective. But she couldn't take comfort in it either as she used to. The ocean's murmuring seeped through the walls, gently rustling her little house situated deep into the island, the smell of salt so clean and crisp that it made her head hurt.

Then she grew used to it.

It must have been around the twelfth week of her stay when something woke her up in the middle of the night. She was laying with eyes wide open for a few seconds, trying to get rid of the vivid, painful colors of her dreams. She dreamed so intensely these days that her dreams did not feel like dreams anymore, but the continuation of an alternative reality, infested with the unsought visits of N'Jadaka, sitting on her throne, eyes closed, head dropped between his shoulders, silent.

He took reign and peace in her tortured mind, abducting her dreams.

Shuri never for a minute assumed that someone like the Killmonger would find peace in the afterlife, but his unwavering attachment to her also felt uncalled for. With a shudder, she threw her blanket off and stepped outside into the twilight, a ticking anticipation building up in the back of her mind without realizing it.

It was the water.

The thought emerged and dipped under in her mind like a tumbling message in a bottle and froze her whole body, awareness prickling her skin.

Him.

Despite the keen sense of fear that tightened her muscles, she smiled.

She could feel this smile sitting on her lips, dark, expectant, hungry. Her arms lifted and she touched her skin, gripping her own arm for a sense of comfort. This was deeply unsettling, how her own body reacted in a way she had no control over. She should probably go back to the house.

But this thought already found her at the edge of the water and crouching down she slowly held her palm out above the silky surface.

"Are you trying to summon me?"

She sharply jerked her head to the side from where the mocking voice came from.

"I do not travel like that. Although I might not mind it, if I were able to," Namor brushed his wet hair back with imperial impatience and with that specific self-containment that only gods possessed.

"I am sure you would feel really comfortable being tied to my words," Shuri locked eyes with him, unable to take her gaze off of him. It was probably wise that she did not.

"Not comfortable, but maybe pleasantly constrained."

"I do not particularly feel like laying a claim to you, K'uk'ulkan," Shuri broke their eye contact, sinking back to her earlier melancholy.

"You do not feel like laying a claim to many things these days, are you, Shuri."

The sound of his heavy steps followed his words and Shuri consciously had to still her body when he lowered himself next to her. She did not like him this close to her, his physical proximity brought something out of her that was just as much attraction as resentment.

He took up so much space, his measurements scaled to fit a species different from the rest of the Earth's population.

"If you came to discuss governance, with anything political you should seek out M'Baku. I heard he is the one currently parading as the king of Wakanda."

"So you know," Namor nodded to himself. "I was not sure you even bothered to listen."

"Why are you here, Namor?"

"Because I would rather talk with you."

"Why?" she frowned, watching him from the corner of her eyes.

He did not answer right away, but stretched out his body on the sand, staring up at the night sky.

"It is hard to put it into words. You bring clarity to me. It is the most peculiar thing. I see my goals and my aspirations with a sharper focus. I am less divided when I am around you."

His accent grew heavier with the drawled-out words, to the point of barely being understandable.

"I have been none of those things you've just described, for months," Shuri murmured, the intimacy of his confession breathing some warmth into her lungs. It came from the most inconvenient place but she couldn't help basking in it for a couple of minutes.

"No clarity. No focus or aspirations."

"I know," Namor tilted his head in her direction, his profile emerging sharp against the sand. His beauty always took Shuri aback; it was so unexpected, so compelling.

"That's also a reason why I came here. You need help."

"I really don't. And if I did, I have all the help in hand's reach I could possibly want."

"And it's clearly not coming from the right source, otherwise you've reached for it a long time ago," Namor shook off his languidity abruptly, making Shuri flinch, his responding smile biting in the dark. "You exiled your own self, and now you're decomposing here, slowly dissolving into sand."

"Your metaphors are a little too strong for me to stomach," Shuri sneered at him and he moved closer, his hands hovering above her face before fleetingly touching her cheekbone.

"That is good. You need to be rattled," his hand dropped to his side. " I want to see you on Wakanda's throne, Shuri. Next time I visit this island it shall be deserted by you."

"Do you have some authority over Haiti I am not aware of?" she arched a brow.

"You're surrounded by water, babe."

"I will give it a thought," she shrugged, consciously ignoring the pet name, and now it was her turn to stretch out on the sand, arms linked behind her head. She felt lighter as if Namor's appearance helped things shift into focus. She would never admit this to him though, ever.

"Aren't you supposed to slide back into the water now and mysteriously disappear?" she squinted at him in confusion when he joined her, his body thrumming with life so close to hers.

"Slide? That somehow sounds derogative."

"It was intended to do so," Shuri said contentedly and the ocean carried her laughter as he got up with an irritated, growling sound and a wave rose for him, swallowing his body.

"One day, I will stand up again and become Shuri, Queen of Wakanda. But for now, I need to rest," she murmured to herself and fell asleep on the beach, feeling comforted and safe for reasons she would've rather left undiscussed.

#namuri #mcu namor #shuri #wakanda forever #fanfic #NamorXShuri #nashuri

15 notes · View notes

lsd-lovelysweetdream · 2 months

Text

a dream from the eighth of april, 2024 - titan

tw- mild body horror, just kinda gross and weird a preface - Bioware and EA released a game a few years back called Anthem. I haven't thought about the game in years, and never even played it aside from a free demo weekend in like 2019 or something. I did, however, find the above digital sculpt pretty cool, as I am into digital art and have been making models of characters and creatures on my computer recently. As with most concept art creatures, the fellow above is comprised of shapes and forms which vaguely resemble human anatomy in a fairly abstract way. You can make out a vague impression of pectorals, collarbones, abdominals, lats, and so on. His 'abs' are more like a set of little mandibles or something. The same with his 'pecs' - they're not pecs at all, as they do not attach to the breastbone and therefore cannot possibly contract to draw the arms together. They look more like mandibles or jaws.

I bring this up because for some unfathomable reason, the above piece of digital art had inspired me to perform body-modification surgery on myself in my dream last night. As the dream begins, I have some pain on the surface of my chest, a burning, tender feeling. I'm in some house that's not my own, and other people are around, probably my hosts. I find a mirror in their home, stand in front of it and take my shirt off. Now this is a little difficult to explain, but it seems that at some point prior to the start of the dream, several days at least, I have performed some basic body-modification surgery on myself. It seems that I did not think I would ever look 'defined' or 'cut' enough unless I modified the appearance of my chest to include those little mandible-like extrusions that the creature above has. As I look in the mirror now, I have two small 'tab' like shapes that originate near the inner side of each pectoral and extend, lying flat on the skin beneath, to meet, symmetrically, at the midline of my body. I can barely remember how I got the tabs in there, or what they're made of. I can remember that I did it without anesthetic. Each is entirely covered with skin, but there's clearly some foreign object giving them their shape that doesn't belong in a human body. Each seems about the size and shape of a shortened popsicle stick. It's been long enough since I did it that the skin has healed completely, showing no scar. I can, with some pain and difficulty, lift the tabs away from the skin beneath, but they quickly snap down to lie flat when let go. I am worried that perhaps the pain I feel is due to an infection of the skin on the underside of these strange tabs. I continue to mess with this area of my chest until the objects beneath the skin become detached. I can shift them around under the skin. I am very concerned. I would like to have the things removed by a professional surgeon but I don't know how I would explain why they're there in the first place. The two pieces of material shift lower until they seem to come to rest on the side of my upper left thigh. There they are stacked neatly together, and don't seem able to shift any further down. I am worried that the pieces have severed blood vessels or connective tissues that are supposed to connect my skin to the muscle beneath. I think about making an incision in my skin to get them out but I don't look forward to it.

#dreams #dream journal

0 notes

falling-pages · 3 years

Text

Bend the Knee: Kyoya x Reader

Thanks @ouranbound for the idea <3

“I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present."

Sometimes Kyoya's betrothed needs help adjusting from their commoner life to one of splendor.

Kyoya Ootori x gn! Reader

Genre: Fluff, established relationship, arranged marriage, Commoner! Reader

Warnings: None

“Quit.”

“What?”

“Quit. You complain about that job every night, so just resign.”

You sit up on the couch, gasping to even begin to make the young heir understand how preposterous his words were. He barely even noticed, just kept his eyes glued to his novel as you were having a crisis. Just another normal Tuesday in this household. “I can’t quit just like that, without two weeks’ notice.”

“The other employees did.”

“But I’m their best,” you scramble, “I can’t bail while they’re still looking for two more people.”

Kyoya scoffed, licking his fingertip and turning a page. “Is that how they treat their best? Overworked and underpaid? They don’t sound like very good bosses to me.”

“It’s not that, it’s…”

It was that. It was exactly that, which made his smug smile all the more frustrating, igniting that fire under your nails to just punch his lights out. But then you’d have to admit it’s bothering you, and he would win, and even though you were engaged to marry this man, you just couldn’t have that.

You ran your hands through your hair, dropping back down onto the couch. His office futon wasn’t comfortable in the slightest, perhaps to discourage relaxation during work hours, but it’s what you dealt with in order to spend time with him in the evenings, a change you would certainly implement once your name was on the deed and in the will--a revamp of his working space was imperative.

But you supposed you couldn’t complain. It was your little life together, where he manages a multi-billion dollar empire and you whine about your job, where he pretends to not pay attention while you spill your guts. What was the sense in commenting when he knew you wouldn’t take his advice?

“I’ve worked hard for this position,” you settle on, closing your eyes and letting your brain do the work. “I’ve climbed the ladder and gotten promotions and I used to feel so important, and it isn’t my dream job, sure, but I’ve enjoyed the process.”

“Then it’s time to move on to something different,” he suggests, and his tone is softer than usual, though still careful to sound detached. “You know I have more than enough money to provide for you and our family someday. Is that not enough?”

You open your eyes when the voice sounds closer, right above you, and you see him kneeling down beside you on the couch. You start to sit up, but he pushes you back down, helping you stretch out your spine, shake out the stresses in your limbs. And when he takes your hand, drawing his long fingers over the arch of your wrist and against your palm, you were startled to see him at eye-level.

Kyoya Ootori bent his knee to no one except you, and only once, when he slipped that pretty gold ring on your finger. But here where you lay, your faces were on the same level, and you felt like an equal.

“The world I come from isn’t black and white, Kyoya,” you say, as he strokes the back of your knuckles. Such tenderness was seldom seen from him, but you revel in it, grasp onto it with dirty fists and brazen recklessness. To have him so attentive to your needs and listening to you was rare. It was a privilege, a standard you would soon be held to, as well. “To be just...launched into fame because my dad won the lottery is hard, I still need to adjust. It can all be gone in a second, so I can’t just drop something. I can’t...sever the safety net. They need me to keep the place afloat, and even as tough as it has been, I can’t leave on such bad terms. They need me. Just for a little bit longer.”

He sighs your name like the afterthought of a prayer, settling his other hand beside you on the couch. His fingers dig into every indentation, as if joining your discovery of its stiff cushions. The sheen in his glasses signaled he’d look into it, but there were more pressing matters to attend to at the moment.

He remained silent, odd for a man with all the answers, but he continued to look at you, not like he was trying to drill a hole through your head, but like you were a puzzle he was just beginning to figure out.

“Have I really been so absent, my love?” he whispered, raising his hand to your face. One finger stroked along your cheek, slowly, lulling you into peace. “I fear I’ve been so busy planning our future that I did not give time to notice how they were exploiting your present. Please, forgive me.”

All of the air was knocked out of your chest as his gentle words, so soft that you almost didn’t recognize him. When your parents betrothed you, and when you fell in love with him, agreed to marry him, even, you knew that he would always be an Ootori, with every string attached. You were ready for the challenge, ready to be with this man no matter what--but his sudden kindness was unexpected, the poetic words unfamiliar in your ears.

“Kyo, you think I wouldn’t forgive you?” you ask, taking off his glasses.

He let you, and when you set them on the nearby stand, his dark eyes glittered with something you had never seen before. Deeper than love, deeper than compassion, a feral protectiveness mixed with sadness skating across his face. It was so rare you saw him without this shield of his, you had almost forgotten how his eyes were like galaxies, like the murky night sky, expansive, swallowing everything in its path.

“If I had been suffering so, I wouldn’t forgive my partner had they not noticed,” he said.

“I’m not suffering...”

“Mmm-mm.” He shuttered your lips closed with his finger, and you couldn’t help but return the affection and press a kiss to it. He smiled, softly, and you thought about how long it had been since you had seen that smile, and how long it had been since he’s seen yours, too.

“I know I’m not the best at expressing my feelings,” he said, and when you snorted, he rolled his eyes and leaned away. “See, this is exactly why.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, giggling. The feeling was foreign in the pit of your chest, drumming near your spine. “I’m sorry. Please, continue.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, softly wiping where you had kissed him, a repetitive, soothing motion. “I’m not the best at expressing my feelings. I’ve been raised to think that if you throw money at something, it will go away. It’s a powerful position to hold, knowing you can change everyone’s fates on a whim, but…” he swallowed, breaking eye contact, and you felt his energy shift into something vulnerable. “But you changed that. You make me feel...you make me feel. And at first I didn’t like it. I loved you, but I didn’t like what you did to me. I didn’t like how you made my world shift off-balance, until I realized my world was no longer my family’s company or stocks or what other stiffs thought of me. It was you.”

You tried to lean up and kiss him, but he grabbed your hands and held them in his own. “Please, let me finish, I want...I want you to know. We’ve been betrothed for so long, but I’d like to think we were only truly engaged when I bowed to you with that ring.”

“Okay,” you breathed, shallowly, taking it in, squeezing his hands to help him along.

“Because that took everything in me,” he continued, and his voice shook, his hands shook, and all you wanted was to gather him in your arms and hold him till he relaxed. “I was raised as a superior, but I’m not. Not with you. You are my equal, and I love you, and there’s no future with us if I can’t look beyond my own problems to see yours.”

Your stomach quelled in light of his confession. The life of luxury and fame you had so recently come to know was a blur compared to his childhood swathed in privilege. Only six years ago you were waiting tables to save up for college when your dad bought a lottery ticket for the hell of it. Now you were attending charity balls and engaged to the son of the richest man on earth.

He took a shaky breath and kissed your forehead, seeming to only find the courage once his lips met your skin.

“I notice. I swear I do,” he said. “I tried to act disinterested when you vent to me because it was a protection, it was a way to stay cold, because that was all I ever saw from my mother and father. They were separate people who happened to live in the same house. That’s not us. I’m not my father. I swear I notice. I notice your tired eyes and your tense shoulders and your fake smile and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how, so I clam up. I shut down. And I’m sorry. I truly am, my darling. I don’t know how you put up with me.”

It was an absolute miracle that you could even breathe at the end of his speech, panting almost as heavily as he was. And when you leaned forward to kiss him, this time he didn’t object, but pulled you even closer, shrouding your body with his, his sharp scent overwhelming your senses, clouding the air around you, even when there was no distance between you. His mouth was hot with passion, yet reserved, and though it wasn’t the first time you kissed, it was the first time you thought he meant it when he told you he loved you.

“Kyoya, I love you,” you whisper against his lips. “I have for so long. I wouldn’t have stayed with you if I didn’t, no matter what our parents said.” He laughed, nipping your bottom lip lightly. “And I don’t want you to change for me. You’re under so much pressure, I understand why you act like you do. But our home isn’t Wall Street. My heart isn’t some business bargaining chip. You don’t need to fight your nature to love me. It’s one and the same.” One of his tears splashes down onto your face. “So just see me. Love me. Choose to be vulnerable. I promise it won’t scare me off.”

“I will. I promise.”

He kissed you again, burning his brand against your tongue, hard like a handshake to know he meant it. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, like you were breathing the same air, using the same lungs, the same heart beating in tandem.

When you let go, his forehead remained pressed against yours. His eyes were slightly open, watching you, eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He was so soft, like this. You wanted to hold him forever.

“Come to bed with me,” you whisper, trailing a hand through his hair. “I just want to spend time with you.”

He kissed your forehead, rubbing his nose against yours in compliance. “I’ll spend all the time in the world with you, beloved,” he sighed, capturing your lips once more. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Kofi

#ouran high school host club #kyoya ootori #kyoya x reader #kyoya ootori x reader #ohshc

935 notes · View notes

glitteriztical · 2 years

Text

comparison

Viktor x GN!Reader

Synopsis: Tests suck. That's it, that's the plot.

A/N: Ha ha so funny story: I dropped the two fics I've been working on for three days to prioritize this one, which popped in my head on the way to work. Currently typing this before I pass out from sleep deprivation.

It's honestly unfair.

You complained internally as your cheek pressed on the scattered notes on the desk. The equations were written neatly and legibly, as expected of you, yet you're having a difficult time understanding anything.

You've long accepted the importance of letters in mathematics when they taught algebra. You didn't even blink when a whole foreign alphabet was included in physics and organic chemistry. But requiring a page worth of derivatives to prove just ONE scientific theory - seriously, who the fuck came up with this stuff? - is where you drew the line.

The sound of chalk writing distracted you from your thoughts. If your notes were bad enough, then looking at the chalkboard immediately gave you a headache. You focused your attention on the lean figure instead. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, sketching and scribbling in a fast pace, as if advanced engineering is the simplest and most interesting thing in the world. Knowing him, it probably was. You glared half-heartedly at his back.

Stupid, amazing Viktor and his stupid, amazing mind.

Sensing your eyes on him, Viktor turned around and gave you a soft smile. Suddenly you felt a little bit of stress vanish. Dropping the chalk in favor of his cane, he carefully walked toward the desk and sat beside you.

"Are you alright?" he whispered. You hummed in response, melting under his touch as his long fingers gently brushed your hair. For a moment, you wished this could last forever.

But the paper sticking on your skin reminded you of the test you're supposed to be studying for.

Sighing, you removed the offending object and pouted at Viktor.

"Gods, I'd do anything to have your brain right now."

It was meant to be a joke but a hint of sadness creeped through.

He blinked in surprise at the statement, then came a light chuckle.

"Forgive me, darling," he continued to giggle. His hands moved to clasp yours, tugging you closer. You almost missed the mischievous glint in those golden eyes.

"What will you need my brain for when you already own my heart?"

It was embarrassing how it took you three seconds to process what he said.

Damn him and his accent and his ability to easily get you flustered.

Your cheeks felt too hot. The urge to either punch or kiss that growing smirk off his face was becoming stronger.

"Unfortunately, owning your heart can't help me pass my quantum mechanics exam," you huffed.

"That is true. However," Viktor cradled your cheek, his face now mere centimeters away. "It does provide you the privilege of, perhaps, a one-on-one private tutoring?"

Soft lips briefly brushed yours, the action sending shivers down your spine.

"And afterwards," his voice lowered an octave, "maybe I can explicitly remind you how amazing your mind is."

"Deal!" Your lips met instantly in a heated kiss. Comfort, reassurance, and thanks conveyed through every glide, nip, and bit-back moan.

Love, oh gods do you love him so much.

It's honestly unfair how helpless he can make you feel. Although, you realize with a smile, deep down you do not mind it one bit.

#arcane #arcane viktor #arcane viktor x reader #arcane viktor x you #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor #erisstories

200 notes · View notes

witch-hazels-musings · 3 years

Note

I'm curious of how characters would use their visions in the bedroom 👀 Like, Kaeya would totally do temperature control stuff.

Could I request headcannons or narratives for how Diluc and Albedo would use their visions for your pleasure? (or for theirs 😳)

Note: I believe vision can only be used when they are in the possession of the person they were gifted to ( primary reason: Diluc giving his away - if anyone could have used it he would have given it to his father, and if he didn’t really need it to use his vision, he wouldn’t have taken it back )

Warning -> slightly funny? 18+ OMG PLEASE RESPECT THE 18+! NS_FW!!!! ( foreign penetration, voyeurism (Alb), burning clothes, no injury, held against wall (D), orgasm denial, foreplay, hydro bondage, hydro foreplay, voyeurism (C))

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

( okay … so this one is gonna be the strangest one I’ve ever done?, and I’m apologizing right now for it --- i’m literally so embarrassed, ima hide under my desk DONT JUDGE ME T.T )

Includes: Albedo (i’m sorry), Childe, Diluc

Albedo

A vision in the hands of Albedo is a tool for many uses - he sees it less as proof of his power and more of a means to an end - it’s an extension of what he has available and he’s learned to adapt it to any possible scenario

Now he’s learned there are ways he can use it to satiate you while he continues to do his work - and, if he’s feeling especially devious, inquisitive to the point of combustion, he may just watch

“Alb--bedo …” You adjusted, legs pressed together so intensely that you thought you might break your kneecaps. Shaking hands gripped onto the closest thing they could while you did your best to stay seated just where he placed you.

“Try not to move too much, it will alter the drawing.” He sat with his leg resting over his thigh, the large sketchpad he had propped up there was bouncing vigorously as his hand ran across the paper. The pencil, when you could see it through your blurry vision, was dancing across the parchment in unbelievable speed as if to capture what was before it.

The vibrations that shook your body seemed to fluctuate from intense stimulation to slow, steady pulsations. Every dip in frequency allowed you room to breathe, your hands moved to your face, teeth bit onto your fingers as your hips rocked against nothing as they sorrowfully tried to help you get off.

“Be-do, please …” You whined, eyes glossing over as you looked at him. Did he laugh, did he smile at you, how heartless could he get. Under your rippling vision, you saw how it glowed brighter and richer in color, and yet, as if you didn’t comprehend its meaning, your hands flew down to grab onto the chair while the resonating stimulation grew between your legs. “Ah!” You slid further into the chair, your head resting on the back of the chair as your fingers gripped and pushed against the edge of the seat. Arching your back, lifting your legs up onto your toes you couldn’t help the moans and pants that fell from your mouth at an unreasonable pace.

“Hold that pose.” Albedo’s voice was calm even if the speed at which he turned the page wasn’t and, as you gazed at him you couldn’t help but lose your mind at the way he observed you. The intensity of it was so powerful that even though you knew he wasn’t inside of you, it felt like he was.

You crashed like a runaway cart into your orgasm, it shook you to your core, and even though you were screaming moments ago all that came out now was a high-pitched whimper. Deep breaths were all that you could take as you clenched around the object Albedo had placed inside of you, it was so hot that you started to pull at your shirt, and soon your hands found their way to the spasming place between your legs.

Albedo’s voice suddenly sounded much closer to you, his lips pressing to your forehead while his hand rested on the one you had near the object. “You did excellently, but I’d like to see more of you if I could, will you assist me again?”

In your dizzy haze, you glanced at his bright eyes and with a gaping, air-sucking mouth, you gave your reply.

Childe

There was no need to keep his skills at manipulating hydro out of everything that he did, why would he when he was so beyond capable at making it do exactly what he wanted. Whether that be from creating blades out of it, spears in its likeness, or even shackles to hold people down - he was learning just how versatile water could be

How could he not give everything he’s ever wanted to try to his partner who had shown him on multiple occasions a level of trust he knew he didn’t deserve, and a willingness to let him do what he wanted -- you always gave him permission, and you were doing it even now

Your back arched as his hands slid under your pants. The way he touched you so perfectly made your vision go dark before lighting up under the stars. As soon as he put pressure right where you needed it, fingers bending and flexing to let you know how much control he had over you, the sound of pleasure and excitement that slipped from your mouth gave him access to the tongue inside of it.

He played with you, toyed with the tightness in your stomach. Every time you were about to break under his stimulation he pulled away just to watch how much you’d whine.

“Childe, please …” You shifted under him as he slowly, painstakingly began to remove your clothes. Each layer, every article which fell to the floor next to the bed felt like an eternity in your sinful sentence. The way his hands ran down your legs as he slipped off your pants, the sensation of his gloved fingers trailing down the center of your chest as he watched the way you squirmed and grabbed at his arm - he was enjoying it all and he had barely done anything to you yet.

“I’ll give you exactly what you need, remember,” He pressed his lips to your neck, your collarbone, and in the center of your chest before continuing, “If you want to stop, tell me immediately.” You nodded your head and he sealed your promise with a passionate kiss.

In no time, he had you exactly in the state he wanted you, his eyes observing the beauty and perfection that lay before him and as your own gazed longingly, eagerly back at him, you noticed how his vision began to hum. It pulsed like a glowing heart and in your curiosity, you reached your hand for it only to find it was impossible.

Tilting your head, you noticed there was a stream of water around your wrists. Funny, you couldn’t tell that your skin was wet at all. That’s when a new sensation began to work its way up to your legs and when you looked down to investigate, you noticed a swirling blue like rope beginning to creep its way further up your body.

“What’s …” The smile that stretched his lips and seeped into his dangerous eyes made it so hard for you to breathe. Your heart pounded in your chest, your stomach rippled with excitement, and the build-up in your body began to increase so much you were sure he was going to make you orgasm just from his stare alone.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, ready for wh-AH!” The flowing water reached your ache. The wetness of it made your body nearly seize as he worked its way into you. The moans and cries that left your burning throat were so loud you were sure someone was going to hear you. Desperately, you wanted to cover your mouth but your wrists were still locked above your head so instead, you tried to bite your lip but that only sealed in so much noise.

“My, how adorable you look like this.” Childe hummed, his hand moving to stroke your chest as he leaned down to pepper kisses against your throat. “Let’s push a little further, what do you say?”

The girth of the water increased and no amount of self-control was capable of holding back the scream released from your body. Your feet struggled against the mattress, futile attempts to assist you in raising your body off of the mattress came with frustrated huffs and whines in your throat. You called out his name and soon you heard the sound of rattling metal.

“Damn, I made myself jealous.” Suddenly, all the water around your body ran down your skin and before you could understand what was happening, Childe positioned himself above you and worked at finishing what his hydro vision started.

Diluc

He usually has so much more control - he had to learn in order to survive, but there were times, there were moments when all he knew was instinct and all he could do was feel

With you, these moments came up more frequently than he would have ever anticipated - there is no switch to turn himself off when he gets lost in your body. You learned to never get him so worked up while his vision still rested at his hip (things were bound to burn)

He backed you into a wall, his fever to have you was apparent by the intense way his hands ran over your body, tugged at your clothes, manipulated your hands with his. He was almost like another person, a delusion of himself. There was no way you could have known riling him up would lead to this and while it was incredible, the ferocity of him, the unreserved nature that he was capable of showing, it was also incredibly hot.

“Diluc wait -” You tried to reach for his vision but his hands plastered yours to the wall. His lips claimed any part of your skin that they could and the pressure of his body against you, the feeling of his growing and dangerous erection crushing against your stomach made every rational thought in your brain fall to the floor he hardly let you touch.

His strength always shocked you. For someone so thin it was often hard to remember that he was capable of it - even though you watched him fling his claymore around like it was nothing, even though on countless occasions he lifted you like you were a freshly sprouted plant; how deceiving his true abilities were to you and everyone else.

Your clothes began to cling to your body. The sweat dripping down your back, in between your legs, your neck all made you wildly informed his vision was active. You didn’t even need to see how it burned like a beating ember to know he was calling on its ability. He let go of your hands and began to work himself out of his jacket, undo his vest, and any other article of clothing he could all the while his mouth kept yours occupied.

The heat from his tongue was near scalding, how was he able to let this fire seep through every single part of his being - was he not experiencing it too? When his chest was exposed, your hands ran over his rippled torso and the question you just asked yourself was answered as you felt how slick he was becoming.

You pulled him closer, the resulting action making his body come into immediate contact with yours and the feeling of his cock digging into the soft and sensitive area between your legs made you burst in exclamation. Your head landed on the wall, hands slid around the hem of his pants and gripped so tightly onto them his hips pushed further into you.

“It’s hot, it’s so hot.” You panted, gazing at him and hoping that your words made sense. Your body was hot, everything was hot, but while you wanted him to alleviate the heat, you hoped he’d remove one primary cause of it.

Pinning your hands above your head, he quickly began to work on your pants. He wasted no time undoing the buckles and buttons that kept you clothed and as he helped you remove them there was a distinct smell filling the air. When you looked down, the fabric was starting to burn even with you still in it.

“Diluc! Hold-ah!” Struggling against him, you began to shake your lower body and in his complete daze, he slowly came back to realization. In an instant, he let go of you and grabbed the nearest item to him to put out the flames. He was on his knees, his black shirt tightly wrapped around your chard pants afraid that if he didn’t keep it there the flames would get worse.

“Y/N … I cannot apologize enou-” Your laughter cut him off, the expression he shot up to you was one of mass confusion as he searched for understanding.

“If I had known you were going to burn my clothes, I would have teased you without them.” He shook his head and tried to apologize again, his eyes dropping to your legs, assessing them for any damage. “I’m fine, you didn’t burn me.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist, his cheek pressing against your stomach as he held onto you tightly. Chuckling, you rested your hand on his hair and began to caress him, the soft movements reassuring him until he composed himself again and lifted back to his full height. Looking at his face, you could tell he was nervous, so you lifted onto your toes to give him a kiss of redemption.

“Next time, let’s leave this,” you reached for his vision and easily removed it from his pants, “out of the action. What do you say, hot-stuff?” His eyes narrowed at your nickname but agreed to your suggestion anyway.

( no one is tagged because I am too embarrassed to do that! )

#genshin impact #genshin impact X reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #genshin impact 18+#albedo x reader #albedo #genshin albedo #childe X reader #childe #genshin childe #diluc X reader #diluc #genshin diluc #genshin impact diluc

607 notes · View notes

wandaownsthisass · 3 years

Text

Late Night Appetite -- Wanda Maximoff x Reader

a/n: So this is porn w/out plot. Established relationship & Wanda is coming home horny and missing reader. Just straight up smut honestly - and I'm not sorry about it!!!

-- Had this on my mind for like a week so I hope it turned out ok, let me know if I missed any warnings. Suit I had in mind is pictured below bc I can’t get enough of it.

Words: 1999

Warnings/notes: NSFW. 18+ Only. Swearing, use of powers, strap-on sex, choking, lil praise kink, switch reader.

“Baby? Where are you?” Your girlfriends voice rang out through your shared apartment, the sound of the front door closing behind her.

You’re standing at your dresser, searching for pajamas to wear as you just finished a shower. You had the luxury of the apartment to yourself for the evening, as Wanda was at a local event with the rest of the team.

It wasn’t long before a pair of arms wrap around your waist, “Mm I missed you. You smell good”

“I missed you too, and you smell like alcohol” You laugh, taking her hands off your waist and turning around to face her.

You hadn’t seen Wanda all day, so when you noticed what she had chosen to wear, you had to force your eyes from dropping to her cleavage. Wanda was smirking though, knowing all too well this suit was your weakness.

“I may have had a few drinks, I had to do something to keep myself awake. I don’t think they helped with keeping you off my mind though...”

Wanda’s hands lower to your ass, squeezing gently before you laugh once again, pushing her off you slightly.

“Someone is horny tonight, why don’t you shower, and I’ll make you something to eat?” You suggest, in which your girlfriend pouts for a moment before agreeing.

“Fine. Better be good though” She kisses you briefly before making her way to your shared bathroom.

Changing quickly into a pair of shorts and one of Wanda’s t-shirts, you make your way to the kitchen and start making some food. You have faint music playing in the background, which Wanda uses to her advantage sneaking up on you.

A pair of hands firmly grasp your waist, startling you. “Ah! Wans, you can’t do that”

A warm giggle warms your heart before she speaks up, “Sorry I couldn’t help myself”

It isn’t long before a pair of lips attach themselves to your neck, sucking harshly causing you to moan, and you feel Wanda smile against your skin before running her tongue over it.

“I see you’re still horny” You say, pushing against Wanda to tease her, but it seemed that Wanda had other plans. As you push back against her, you freeze almost immediately as a hard object pushes back against you.

“Something wrong malyshka?” Wanda purrs into your ear, pinning you fully against the counter now, trapping you.

You clear your throat subtly, the thin fabric of your shorts allowing you to feel every inch of the toy.

“I take it you’re not in the mood to eat anymore?”

“I wouldn’t say that…just have an appetite for something else is all”

With that Wanda doesn’t waste another second before spinning you around to face her, her right-hand cupping your face gently, running her thumb over your lips. Her eyes are dark, full of lust as she enraptures your lips. You groan, before pulling back taking her bottom lip in between your teeth.

Her other hand is pulling at your shirt, and you take the opportunity of her wandering hands to catch her off guard. Palming roughly at the toy, it’s your girlfriends’ turn to moan, involuntarily bucking her hips into you, “Fuck”

“Do you like that baby?” You tease against her lips, grabbing the toy roughly again.

She kisses you hard, wasting no time to slip her tongue into your mouth. You slip your hands into her sweatpants, pulling hard against the harness wrapped around her hips, pulling her into you once again.

Wanda breaks away for air, staring at you intensely, the moonlight being the only thing lighting up the kitchen at this point. The glistening of her skin mixed with the lighting warms your heart, your eyes dropping down to her lips and she smiles back as your thoughts enter her mind.

“I love you” She whispers.

“I love you too”, your eyes flick up to hers again, “Now please take me to the bedroom”

“As you wish”

You yelp as Wanda effortlessly picks you up, with the assistance of her powers, and carries you towards your shared bedroom. Your back hits the comforter lightly as she lays you down. Grasping onto Wanda’s shirt tightly, you yank her towards your body, kissing her messily as your desires start to overwhelm you.

Wanda picks up immediately, your shorts discarded within seconds and you groan as she pulls away from your lips, running her hands slowly against your stomach before coming to rest at the edges of your thighs. Her thumbs rubbing circles on the insides of your thighs for a moment, before spreading your legs apart roughly.

She growls, “You’re so wet for me already”

You whine, pushing your hips up slightly, hoping she’ll take the hint.

“Patience baby girl, let me appreciate you”

“I need you Wanda”

She cocks her head, her fingers suddenly running through your folds, “And what happened to me being the horny one? Hmm?”

You can’t answer, the feeling of her fingers against you being too much to handle. Luckily, she doesn’t tease for much longer before two fingers enter you roughly.

“Shit” You gasp, your head slamming back into the mattress. Your hips rock immediately, following the rough movements of your girlfriend, her fingers exiting completely before slamming back into you.

The familiar tightness rises quickly in your belly, and you’d normally be embarrassed at how turned on you were but the sight of your fully dressed girlfriend fucking you was the only thing on your mind.

“Come for me” She commands, curling her fingers, hitting the spot perfectly as you come undone.

Your eyes peel open at the right moment, watching her glistening fingers enter her mouth, eliciting a deep moan from the redhead.

She doesn’t give you a second to recover before climbing on top of you, discarding your shirt somewhere on the floor, and reaching down towards her own pants. She slides them down enough for her to pull the toy out, and you make eye contact briefly before a loud moan falls out of you, the dildo driving into you roughly. Pausing for only a second, letting you adjust, she layers your chest with kisses, murmuring hushed words in foreign tongue against your skin. Your hands curled into the blankets below you for something to hold onto, preparing yourself for what was to come.

“I’m going to make you feel so good” She says quietly, before her hips pull back and thrust into you, hard. A grunt forces itself out of your body from her sudden movement, your back arching against her immediately.

Wanda didn’t pause again, instead continuing her movements again, and again, each time entering you with more force, your hips falling into rhythm with hers. One of her hands snaked its way to your throat as she repositioned so she wasn’t lying on top of you, instead allowing herself to see all of you as she fucked you into the mattress. “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat”

Your eyes were shut as you moaned again, “Wanda, god you-“

Her grasp tightened as she kept up her relentless movements, you could hear how wet you were, the dildo slipping in and out with ease.

“I what baby? You’re such a good girl for me, you have no idea how hot you are right now”

You could feel yourself getting close, your pussy tightening with each thrust of Wanda’s hips into you. You were loud, Wanda’s name and moans pouring from your lips, you thought you couldn’t handle anymore of her before her grasp released from your neck, one traveling down to your nipples, palming roughly. You gasped at the sensation, your eyes opening to see Wanda’s lustful eyes replaced with a deep red, her other hand was raised for a moment as red wisps flowed from her fingertips towards your pussy. You felt a tingling sensation on your clit, as you watched her fingers dance, “Fuck, I’m-I’m so close”

It didn’t take much more; a few more deep thrusts, the overstimulation of your clit, and her lips now attached to your breasts, you came completely undone. You moaned Wanda’s name a final time, louder than before, and came hard, clenching around the toy as she continued her movements. She kept up the pace for a moment, as her head fell into the crook of your neck, her own hips beginning to lose their rhythm. You knew her body too well, aware she was about to come, you lowered your hand to her hips, your palm coming down roughly across her cheek. You did it twice more, making sure this time the contact was a little harder, leaving bright red marks in reminder.

She moaned your name, praising you as her hips faltered and pushed up into you as she came. You ran your hand through her hair, pushing it away from her glistening skin, kissing her neck as she rode out her orgasm.

You both lied there for a moment, before Wanda raised her head, staring down at you. Your hand was rubbing her back under her shirt, scratching lightly against her skin.

“How are you doing up there?” You say, your voice hoarse.

Wanda smiles, kissing you gently. “That was hot” She answers, giggling against your lips.

“Oh, we’re not done baby”

Her brows furrow before she lets out a yelp, you flip Wanda on her back straddling her hips effortlessly. You crawl downwards, pulling her sweatpants off fully of this time, “Y’N what are you-OH”

You don’t give her a second before wrapping your lips around the toy strapped to her hips, humming as you taste yourself. Drawing out the movements, Wanda watches you intensely, propped up on her elbows, her hand coming down to aid you, grasping your hair tightly.

“You look so pretty like this” She praises, and you release the toy with a pop before licking from the base to the tip, eyeing her as you do so.

You’re aware she can’t feel any of it, but you feel proud as you watch Wanda’s head fall back and groan. You’re rubbing her thighs softly, and pull away from the toy, reaching to undo the harness. She helps you do so, and it isn’t long before the dildo is thrown onto the ground, replacing the toy with her pussy, your lips enclose around her clit, sucking harshly against her.

“Y/N, fuck”

You don’t let up, licking broad strokes up and down her pussy, tasting her on your tongue you moan against her, which causes her hips to buck up into you. You moan again as your hair is grasped roughly, pulling at the nape of your neck as you continue your attack. You continue your relentless movements for a little more, before Wanda’s body tightens and you clean her up as she comes undone on your tongue.

Wanda pulls you back up to her, and you kiss her again, her tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting herself on your lips.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk after that” You say, falling against her body.

“Good. You need to remember who you belong to”

“As if I would want to belong to anyone else, only you can make me come that fast baby”

You’re kissed again, sighing into her lips this time. Her hand reaches down, stroking your face with her thumb.

“Now about that food?”

You roll your eyes, slapping her lightly across her face she catches your wrist immediately; her soft eyes turning dark as her grip tightened, “Careful printsessa, keep this up and you won’t be coming as easily next time”

Quirking your brow, you stare back, “Whatever you say Wanda”

You knew you made a mistake, but in moments like this you couldn’t help but push her buttons. And you did just that.

A flash of red released from her fingertips as your hands flew back, pinning you down against the mattress.

“You have no idea what you’re in for kotenok”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #marvel #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximov #wanda marvel #wanda mcu #smut #elizabeth olsen

1K notes · View notes

earlgreydream · 3 years

Text

after.

| loki x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. loki, but he's so rough during sex, it hurts, and aftercare is absolute bliss afterwards? & AFTERCARE WITH LOKI

a/n: I’m combining these requests. love dom!loki and soft!loki

cw: dark!loki, sliiiiight dubcon (consensual), aggression, general rough smut, spanking, light anal play, brief exhibitionism, mild degradation, implied subspace, etc

“Are you about done acting out?” Loki asked you, his lips just below your ear, sending chills down your spine. You were sat on his lap on the throne, and you’d spent the last hour or so grinding against him while he was trying to have important meetings with Thor and the royal guard.

“I don’t think so,” you confessed, biting back a smile. You were enjoying riling him up, getting revenge for the many times Loki had tortured and teased you.

“My darling, my patience with your disobedience is wearing thin,” Loki warned, and you rolled back, putting significant pressure on his rock-hard length below you.

Loki made a throaty noise, and Thor cut off mid-sentence.

“Continue, brother,” Loki ordered, and Thor gave the two of you a look before he continued speaking. Loki’s hands gripped your waist, trying to keep you from squirming and rubbing your ass against him.

“If you do not stop, I will fuck you on this throne in front of this entire room of people. You want to be seen acting like a whore so bad, I’ll let you.”

His words echoed down your spine, and your face heated, a visible blush spreading across your skin. You felt his dark laughter against your back, pleased with the way the threat suddenly turned you shy.

His knees pushed your legs apart and you were shaking your head, pleading soft apologies to Loki. Your confidence and deviance crumbled, and you were weak at his fingertips. You very suddenly came to regret your actions, and Loki hummed against your shoulder, warning you against trying to close your legs.

Thor kept speaking, but his eyes narrowed as Loki’s hand moved to your front, very openly cupping your sex in your skirt, in front of everyone. Your skin was burning, the heat spreading over your body in a blazing fire of need and embarrassment.

“Loki...” you whimpered, and he hushed you. Thor tripped over his words as Loki pushed two fingers inside of you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at Thor watching Loki play with you. You knew what to say to stop Loki, but you couldn’t, because a sick part of you was secretly enjoying this.

A strangled whimper escaped you as Loki pushed his fingers forward particularly hard. Thor stopped speaking completely, watching Loki’s glistening fingers slide in and out of your soaked pussy. You hadn’t worn any panties under your dress, wanting to work Loki up as much as possible.

Truly, you hadn’t expected to be punished like this. Loki wasn’t often a fan of public humiliation, but seeing how wet it made you, and how you suddenly got shy and obedient was all the convincing it took.

You bit your lip fiercely, struggling to keep from squealing and crying out. Loki mouthing along your neck, whispering filthy things in your ear about Thor watching you get your pussy filled with his fingers, didn’t help you stay quiet and still.

“Loki, please,” you were begging, what for, you weren’t sure.

“Please what, little one?” Loki was going to make you work for it. Your whole body tensed as the coil tightened in your belly, Loki’s fingers stroking the spot that had your mind shutting down.

“I need to come,” your plea came out much louder than intended, but it made no difference, everyone in the room had their eyes locked on you since this started.

“Go on then, scream my name to all of our subjects, let them know who you belong to.”

The coil snapped and you orgasmed with a scream, Loki’s name echoing through the high ceilings of the throne room. Your legs were shaking and you grabbed his forearms to steady yourself, your release dripping down your thighs and onto Loki’s lap.

A high pitched shriek was ripped from you when Loki slapped your sensitive core, and you jolted from the sting. Even Thor flinched slightly, and your breath caught in your throat as he spanked your pussy a second time, drawing out your humiliation and adding pain to the punishment. Tears threatened to roll down your cheeks, and Loki mocked your embarrassment.

“Shy, little one? You didn’t seem so shy when you were misbehaving all evening.”

“I’m not done with you,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and draping you over his shoulder. Your skirt was still flipped up, revealing your ass and slick, swollen cunt to everyone you walked by. The tears were now falling freely, and you squirmed helplessly.

Loki slapped where your ass met the back of your thigh, leaving a handprint, the sound bouncing off of the walls. You cried out in pain as he squeezed the area before carrying you through the throne room.

“We’ll have to finish this meeting later!” Loki called after himself, parading you through the halls as he took you to his chambers. When you started to speak to apologize, he spanked you, not wanting to hear it.

Loki practically threw you on the bed, and he tore off your dress, leaving you naked. His own clothes vanish in a glimmer of green, and you were caught under his sadistic, predatory gaze.

“On your knees,” Loki commanded, and you scrambled to obey, kneeling before him as he leaned against a golden wall. Magic bound your hands behind your back, and the tip of Loki’s cock brushed your lips.

“If you resist me, I’ll let Thor use your mouth next,” Loki threatened, getting you to immediately open your mouth so he could slip inside.

His pale fingers threaded into your hair and found a grip, holding you steady as he fucked your throat. Tears rolled down your cheeks faster than before, and all you could do was kneel before your king and take him. You did your best to please him, hollowing your cheeks and humming around him, trying to get him to come faster. You were choking and unable to breathe, and the feeling of your struggle had Loki coming in hot ribbons down your throat, shooting his seed straight into your tummy.

You gasped for air, heaving oxygen into your lungs when he pulled out, your head dropping forward as you caught your breath.

“You will not disobey me again.” Loki smacked your cheek lightly and you immediately answered.

“No, Loki.”

His hand wrapped around your arm and he lifted you to your feet, your hands becoming free from the bonds. You thought you were free until he hauled you onto the bed, your wrists being secured to the headboard as you laid on your stomach. Fear prickled up your spine, knowing your punishment wasn’t over.

You’d learned your lesson about teasing Loki and being disobedient, and after this you swore to yourself you’d never do it again.

“I’m sorry, Loki,” your voice was quiet, and Loki looked at you silently.

“Pull your knees to your chest,” he ordered, and you did so before letting your head fall back down onto the duvet.

He stared at you, bent over and exposed for him, prolonging your anxious anticipation. He moved behind you, out of your view. You felt the bed dip behind you, Loki kneeling on the bed, his hands resting on your hips for a moment. He traced the red handprint on your ass, making you twitch slightly at the touch.

Something cold and made of metal slid through your folds, making you jump.

“I’ll slap you if you move again,” Loki’s tone was stern, and you held still, wondering what the tear-shaped object was for. He gathered your arousal on it, and you jerked your hands fruitlessly against the magic as he pressed it lightly to your tight ring of muscle.

Barely a second passed before his hand connected with your skin, leaving another stinging handprint on your backside.

“I’m sorry, I don’t need it, I’ll behave,” you promised, stumbling over your words as you weakly protested the metal being slowly pushed into your ass.

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to see your pretty hole stretch around this gold plug,” Loki’s voice dripped with sadistic pleasure, sending shivers through your body.

You hid your face in the duvet, fighting not to squirm away as he slowly pressed it inside of you. The feeling was foreign and uncomfortable, and incredibly shameful. Your body betrayed you, displaying your cunt growing wetter as Loki eased it all the way inside of you. A choked whine of pain tumbled from your lips, but you didn’t use your safe word. You hated the feeling of being stretched but you knew you deserved it for your misbehavior, and you didn’t want to object to Loki.

He leaned back on his heels and admired you, the gold peeking out of your slightly trembling body. He watched you shake from a mixture of embarrassment, discomfort, overstimulation, and utter and complete ecstasy, a devious smile pulling at his lips.

He was painfully hard again, and he very much intended to tear you up before forgiving your transgressions. His anger has now faded, though he was enjoying scaring you a healthy amount. He enforced his rules, and taught you what happened when you disobeyed.

You knew he wouldn’t be merciful and let you off, and you were thankful he’d let you come at his fingers, even if it was in the presence of the throne room.

You laid in front of Loki, moaning loudly as he fucked into you with one thrust. Your muscles burned as they stretched to try to accommodate his size, but he offered no reprieve before snapping his hips against yours, railing you. He pushed on the gold, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your mind melted from the sensation of being painfully full.

You couldn’t help but cry as Loki brutally fucked you, abusing your aching core as he hit your cervix, buried deeper in you than you thought possible. You were choking on oxygen, your mind completely empty as you took him in, searching for pleasure.

The pain of how hard he was fucking you had tears flowing thick down your cheeks and choked whimpers escaping you. Loki brought a hand around to your clit, taking pity on you and giving you some relief to the sharp pain.

“You’re so fucking sexy, taking me so well, like a good, obedient slut,” Loki finally offered you some praise, even if it was slightly degrading.

The words soothed over your fright, and your eyes rolled back as he slammed into you, your mind fading. His thrusts became less rhythmic, his hips stuttering. You were familiar with the feeling, and in a few seconds, you felt him spill into you, pumping you full of his release and coating your aching walls with the sticky white seed. You sighed softly in relief as he pulled the metal from you, tossing it aside. He slowly eased out of your sex, his magic dissolving the bonds on your wrists.

You fell limp once you were no longer restrained, and Loki admired your fucked-out body. Your mind was cloudy and a shudder wracked your body as you adjusted to the sudden relief.

“Little one,” Loki spoke softly, the usual gentleness returning to his voice. His hands smoothed gently up your back, green sparks penetrating into your muscles and dissolving some of the ache.

You hummed weakly, acknowledging Loki calling out his term of endearment for you. Your breath caught as he flipped you onto your back, and you winced as the aching between your legs became a painful throb, the endorphins wearing off.

“Let me see those pretty eyes,” Loki’s fingers tenderly brushed over your cheek, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at him.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up, alright? It’s over now,” Loki leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft against yours. You weakly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and hugging him.

“I need you to speak, darling.”

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely, your voice raspy from Loki brutalizing your throat. He laughed softly, kissing your cheek and wiping the remaining tears that were staining your skin.

“I love you more than all of the stars.”

You whimpered as he lifted you, carrying to into the basin and stepping in with you. The warm water engulfed your body, filled with salts and oils from the finest markets of Asgard. Loki rested you against his broad chest, careful of your muscles.

He lifted a glass from a small table next to the tub, putting it to your lips and urging you to drink the water. You ignored the soreness in your throat and leaned back against Loki’s stable body, swallowing the contents of the glass. Loki took his time cleaning you up, gently lathering your body with sweet-scented soaps.

He massaged your head as he washed your hair, brushing his fingers through the locks. You’d been turned around for that, your forehead resting on his shoulder as he worked shampoo and conditioner through your hair. He’d pestered you to eat some of the grapes from a bowl nearby, kissing your forehead and praising you.

“I’m sorry for teasing,” you apologized softly, and Loki gently adjusted you so you were looking up at him. He tilted your chin up, gazing down at you with love and lightly pecking your lips before speaking.

“I’m not angry. You don’t need to be sorry anymore,” he promised, holding you in his arms, trying to snap you out of your foggy headspace.

You protested to being lifted out of the bath, and Loki hushed you gently, drying you off and helping you into silk clothing. Your legs were weak and you held onto Loki’s arms as you stood by the hearth. He helped you onto the lounger, snuggling you into his chest and handing you a piece of bread with honey drizzled over it. You ate it and curled up into your warm lover, basking in his attention as he cared for you. He lifted a book from the table and began to read to you, his smooth voice lulling you into dreams. He pressed into your mind, filling your head with sweet thoughts and guarding you against nightmares.

He listened to your steady heartbeat as he played with your hair and the fabric draped over your body. He loved how sweet and cuddly you got after sex, blissed-out and your mind empty except for a desire to be close to him. He adored you, and everything about you, and these moments of closeness were his favorite.

2K notes · View notes

xxsycamore · 3 years

Note

Hi!! Could I request the gun/knife play for Leonardo? Thanks!!

Of course you can! 💗💗 I think that this might be my favorite so far from the challenge, really took my time writing it too. Also, thanks for specifying that you want this along with dialogue prompt 30, thus we’re making it a threesome 👀👀

KINKTOBER DAY 26 - Sharing a Taste - [ COMTE/MC/LEONARDO SMUT ]

Rating: E

Word count: 3985

Relationship: F/M/M; Comte de Saint Germain/MC; Leonardo Da Vinci/MC; Comte de Saint Germain/Leonardo Da Vinci

Tags: Spoilers of Comte's real name; Swearing; Smoking; Alcohol; Polyamory; Threesome - F/M/M; Knife Play; Blood Play; Knife Cuts; Mild Blood; Mild Painplay; Mild Masochism; Blood Drinking; Come Eating; Vaginal Fingering; Cunnilingus; Dirty Talk; Double Penetration; Double Penetration in One Hole; Creampie

Check my masterlist here! You can also find all my works on AO3 under user xsycamore. In my profile you can find my Ko-fi if you would like to support me!

Written for my Visions of Temptation Kinktober 2021 challenge. [DAY 1] [DAY 2] [DAY 3] [DAY 4] [DAY 5] [DAY 6] [DAY 7] [DAY 8] [DAY 9] [DAY 10] [DAY 11] [DAY 12] [DAY 13] [DAY 14] [DAY 15] [DAY 16] [DAY 17] [DAY 18] [DAY 19] [DAY 20] [DAY 21] [DAY 22] [DAY 23] [DAY 24] [DAY 25]

DAY 26 - Knife play + “Why don’t you two settle it with a competition and I can be the judge?”

Sweet clover scent descends to the ceiling in little puffs, before dissolving into the air; a raspy humming is getting mixed with the sounds of the gramophone playing nearby. It's an ungodly hour, one that sends to bed even those undependable on sleep - when normally, the parlor is full of residents in the evenings, amusing themselves in tabletop games or simply watching and chatting from afar.

Now that they have the room to themselves, Comte, Leonardo and their lover, MC, allow themselves to act more openly around each other and spend their time how they like it the most.

MC watches Comte's lips move as he speaks, hypnotized, as she barely has it in herself to pay attention to his story anymore. The bliss engulfing her senses is making her melt further into Leonardo's embrace.

The latter has her laid comfortably across his lap and upper body, as he occupies one of the red leather armchairs in the parlor. His long legs are stretched out as he keeps an arm cozily around the waist of his girlfriend, extending the other towards the ashtray on the table and briefly tapping his cigarillo on it, once, twice, and bringing it towards his lips again. He keeps the conversation flowing, albeit with short replies - the rumble of his chest only succeeding to lull MC further as she ghosts her fingerpads on Leonardo's neck in answer.

Her half-lidded eyes watch Comte lift his glass of whiskey to his mouth, taking a small sip, enough just so he can wet his lips and give yet another turn to the conversation as another memory comes to mind.

MC's attention quickly withdraws from Comte's lips as goosebumps cover her skin due to a sudden sensation. Without her noticing, Leonardo's hand has dropped lower on her belly and underneath her skirt, toying with the hem of her underwear - and, in another second, slipping inside.

This naturally doesn't stay hidden from the blond, who is sitting directly opposite them and thus having a good view. His golden eyes sharpen as he shoots a knowing gaze to his friend before following the movement of his hand over the fabric.

Such perverse is not foreign between the three of them, hence the atmosphere barely shifts from its tranquil course. Knowing Leonardo, MC can expect to be fingered to a quick orgasm without the man losing track of the conversation in the slightest - and she'd enjoy every second of it. There is a certain trill in observing her two lovers test their own composure as the night continues to roll on. MC is not sure if Leonardo's goal is to bring her to a dripping wet mess, or to tease Comte by putting him in the position of a voyeur. It's not the first time she's found herself the object of their rivalry, recalling all too well how it feels to be on the opposite side of that table and in Comte's lap, as he gently strokes the bare skin of the inside of her thigh.

In terms of seduction, she isn't one to back down without a fight either, often provoking them in her own ways until she finds herself pressed between them and muffling moans in a richly perfumed collar. More and more prurient images come up in her mind as she sucks on a breath and interrupts their talk.

“Why don’t you two settle it with a competition and I can be the judge?”

She can see Comte abandoning his unfinished sentence and curling his lips in a knowing smile. He doesn't have to guess twice to know what his lover is referring to, taking note of her body language as her legs begin to tremble under Leonardo's ministrations.

Putting out his cigarillo and drowning the remaining contents of his glass, the Italian readjusts MC in his lap as he sits up straight in his seat.

"At least someone here knows how to have fun. What do you have in mind, cara mia?"

Comte huffs out a small laugher at how the first part was obviously directed at him. Seeing that whatever or not MC has something in mind to suggest, she likely won't manage to get it past her lips, due to her eyes being glued at Leonardo bringing the fingers that were inside her to his mouth and sucking on them clean. He, however, has a good suggestion.

"It's been awhile since we last threw daggers. The board is all set and ready on the wall behind us, too."

Leonardo is busy holding MC's gaze as he slips the two digits out of his mouth, bringing them slowly to MC's mouth to kiss. He doesn't spare as much as a glare in Comte's direction as he speaks up in his raspy voice.

MC is not sure what to picture when one of her two lovers uses the word "awhile". Judging by how in-shape they both are at throwing knifes, she'd think as recently as months. But it could as well be centuries since they last participated in the sport. The level of skillfulness wouldn't let it out the least.

"Bring it on."

Leonardo leans against one of the parlor's mahogany walls with his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Comte take his turn.

The blond takes a dagger from the set he dug out earlier, and steps into position at the negotiated distance. Two pairs of eyes follow the movements of his gracious hand, sleeves rolled up, as he makes final adjustments to his hold. Calculating that a full spin would be too much, his fingers move from gripping the handle of the dagger to gripping its blade instead. His chest swells with a breather before he holds it in, making sure that he is remaining completely still, and then, he throws it at the target.

Bullseye. A confident smile spreads on his lips as soon as he hears MC's cheering exclamations.

Leonardo pushes himself off the wall, rolling his own sleeves up as he exchanges a challenging look with his friend. They switch their positions.

Spinning the dagger between his fingers, Leonardo makes a quick study of its weight. It only takes him a few seconds to decide on his throw, and in shortly he positions his index finger on its spine.

MC watches him with growing curiosity, keeping her tone to a whisper as if she comments, mostly speaking to herself than anything.

"He is going for a no-spin throw."

Comte watches the scene with amusement, enjoying the sparkle in MC's eyes, accompanied with the hyper-fixated amber gaze of Leonardo. In another second, the blade is set flying in the air, in a very linear motion.

Not only does it perfectly lands bullseye, it also manages to knock off the blade Comte previously stuck in there.

Such a masterful throw must be deserving of ovation, and surely, seeing MC clap her hands enthusiastically is the biggest compliment Leonardo could take.

"Heh. That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

Leonardo taps Comte's shoulder while switching positions again and the latter only replies with a chuckle, taking two steps backwards this time.

"Don't be so sure of yourself now, amore. We have three more rounds."

He draws an imaginary line with the tip of his shiny shoe in the ground before him, letting Leonardo know of the added distance this time round. It adds to the thrower's difficulty when measuring the force needed, but Comte figures it out relatively fast. His dagger makes an almost full spin before landing just shy of the center of the rings.

"Not bad."

Once all daggers are thrown, MC walks to the target excited to calculate the score. Adding up the points of the two distinguishly engraved set of daggers, she widens her eyes in disbelief.

Leonardo comments, being more on-edge to compete with him the more the difficulty increases. His next throw lands a little further from the center than Comte's, but knowing him, once he corrects his mistake and gets the hang of it, he would be a tough opponent.

The two men hum as they hear the quiet sound of her counting under her breath the score once again, as if to make sure, and they approach just in time for her to turn around and announce the result.

"It's a tie!"

Golden eyes meet golden eyes as they both chuckle at the same time at how caught up into the competitive air they've gotten there for a second. When this really is nothing to be surprised about, even given how many times underestimation of one has been the doom of another in those friendly face-offs. But what about the reward?

Leonardo scoots over to her side to snake an arm around her waist. His breath fans over her earlobe, sending a shiver down below, creating the urge for her to rub her legs together.

"Now, what are we going to do with you, bambina?"

It’s like he read her thoughts just now. MC parts her lips as her breathers begin to fall heavier, her hand resting over Leonardo’s, face turning just briefly to the side but not quite meeting his eyes. He remains behind her, half-leaning against the wall and anticipating her reply. The silence doesn’t stay for long, MC’s gaze finding Comte’s in order to make sure he is listening too.

"It's a tie, so, it's only fair the two of you share my body equally."

An amused chuckle reaches her ears the same moment all her senses get occupied by the feeling of Leonardo's thick, calloused fingers finding the space between her legs, for the second time tonight. The man is relentless when it comes to using his hands on her. As if she is his favorite toy, her perfect little pussy being his first to-go place to put his hands every time they're not occupied, in those late night gatherings. Whatever it's a board game or a talk over a bottle of expensive alcohol, Leonardo would always slide one big, roughened hand over the oh-so soft skin of her thighs and then toy with her swollen center.

She has to admit that as entertaining it feels to take the challenge of keeping a sharp mind in a round of poker or to maintain coherent thinking while sharing a strong drink, the best part is when they step into the part of the night while all games are revolving around pleasure.

Which one is it right now? The lastly spoken words still echoing in her head and the lascivious memory of watching them compete over her still fresh in her head, she wonders if she'll get true pleasure any time soon.

Failing to notice just when Comte has moved closer, his chuckle is rich and hinting of a certain anticipation, his tone sounding almost strained, needy.

"Easy for you to say, ma chérie. You're dealing with two purebloods here… I've told you many, many times - by nature, we're very unwilling to share."

Pulse quickening, MC wonders if Comte's sharpened senses would be able to pick the rush of blood under his gentle fingerpads as he caresses her wrists. His words might have been a warning to her, but they're also a warning to the man standing behind her, as the two's eyes lock again.

"Hah. By nature, Comte, the toughest one is the one who gets to have a taste."

Hearing Leonardo's words, another chuckle pries out of his lips but this time it's shorter, sounding a tad more dangerous. Once it fades, MC feels strangely on edge - and it proves to be reasonable, because in a flash, Comte swings his fist somewhere over her frame and behind her, as if aiming at…

When MC opens her eyes again, she can see that Comte simply meant to pull one of the daggers off the target board.

This time it's Leonardo's turn to laugh, whether or not the gesture has managed to alarm him - though, MC is sure that he'd react faster than she could blink if that was the case.

"We're both going to have a taste, Leonardo."

His tone is stern despite the following trace of a smile on his lips, as he leans forward. A quick peck is placed over MC's lips by his own, as if apologizing for startling her. Then, he quickly moves upwards and finds Leonardo's lips. It's nowhere as gentle as he was with her, she can hear it - perhaps mixed with a hint of fang, judging from Leonardo's groan.

"Bastardo furbo…"

It must be that Leonardo thinks it’s the perfect time to revive the movement of his fingers that are now slipping just past her entrance to dip into the dripping wetness. MC can still hear him addressing the blond in his own “endearing” way. There has to be something else hidden behind it, something to deal with the dagger that Comte now shifts in his hands.

Having a taste…

Along with a moan escaping her lips, MC's lidded eyes widen anew as she searches for Comte's hand to grasp with both her own.

"Y-you want to have a taste of my blood, right?"

Comte's curled-up lips already aim for her own before the last syllables could be spoken out loud.

"Our clever little girl. Could it be that our blood-lust is that obvious?"

Leonardo all but yanks her head back by the hair, in a way that is still gentle somehow, in order to plant his hot mouth against the column of her neck.

"I'm not going to pretend I don't want it. Cara mia, only if you'll let us."

Attempting to hold her mouth shut as a loud moan threatens to escape, she continues to grasp Comte's dagger-occupied hand, driving it closer to herself, hoping that he'll get the hint. Gods, she wants this, she wants to let them feed on her.

"Use your words, ma chérie."

"F-fuck! Abel, Leo, please, take what you need from me, make me yours, ahh, I-I'm coming!!"

They both hold her upright in a tight embrace as kisses from both lovers rain on all exposed places of her skin, Comte's quiet encouragements as he lets Leonardo finger her to completion. The last of her moans are drank down by a greedy mouth before the man standing in front of her falls to his knees.

Getting the cue, Leonardo gently lifts one of MC's legs, allowing more access for Comte to lean in and shove his face into her leaking cunt. He licks her clean, just as he does with Leonardo's fingers, before withdrawing to gaze up at MC's lovely face.

"Now, my dear, I'm going to run this blade right here… until it draws blood. Tell me, are you content with that?"

The very tip of his nail draws a line on the delicate skin of her thigh, making MC buck into his touch as if his finger enough would be able to tear her apart and make the blood he so-craves spill.

"Yes. Do it, please."

Leonardo makes sure to hold her nice and steady, indulging himself in another playful comment.

"Could it be that our little principessa fancies a little bit of pain?"

If she didn't knew Leonardo any better, she'd guess he is enjoying doing this to her - but the delicate yet firm hold of his hands is telling volumes of how fragile he feels her to be, as if asking alone is his way of making sure. The tenderness of his heart is making her want to turn around and give him a kiss, nice and properly, in a way they still haven't a chance to kiss tonight.

Feeling the illicit way his hardness all but rubs against her ass, she considers denying him the kiss a little longer after all. It could be Comte's mischievousness rubbing on her, but she swears nothing makes Leonardo cuter than being needy.

"Yes… I love it. I don't mind it at all, please do it."

It's all Comte needed to hear in order to cease the stasis and comply with her wish - the wish of all three of them. The silver edge of the blade glistens in the low light as he shifts it in his hold, lining up its sharp edge to the paper-thin skin of MC's thigh, so hot in comparison to the cold metal.

Both purebloods feel a tell-tale tingle deep within as the scent of blood rushes into their system. Lust and thirst both start running wild as Comte refuses to waste a single drop of blood that may threaten to spill over and run down the curve of her thigh. Before such even has a chance to form, he catches it with a lap of his tongue.

The sound of Comte moaning in awe of her taste drives a part of Leonardo mad, but a far greater part of him wants to help blow away his mind completely by shamelessly adding to the pleasure…of both of them.

"You already know what makes blood taste the sweetest, Abel."

Without a second to give way to a coherent thought to form, MC shudders instinctively in excitement over this implication. Still being held open with one leg in the air, Leonardo makes a quick work of his garments and in one precise, deep thrust, he sheaths his fully-hard cock inside her tight, wet cunt.

Her moan tops over the ones of both men as suddenly pleasure overwhelms them all and spirals throughout - from where his cock pierces deep inside her, a coiling sensation of another quickly building orgasm calls. It's greatly provoked by Comte's merciless sucking on her thigh as he continues to drink down the blood that rushes into his mouth, slurping noises filling the room as he blindly moves a hand down to palm over his own bulge. Due to the pleasure that MC feels increasing tenfold, the sweetness of her blood flowing in his mouth increases as well, locking them into a cycle of utmost sin.

It makes her cum on the spot, barely tied together syllables resembling her lovers' names spoken as she coats Leonardo's cock with a new emission of juices, hearing him groan out a curse under his breath.

With one last loud suckling noise followed by a wanton groan, Comte withdraws his crimson-painted lips and swirls his tongue over them to collect every last drop. Composure long crumbled to dust, there is an almost dangerous gleam to his eyes as he brings himself to his feet. The kiss he presses on her nearly-drooling mouth is almost forceful in its nature, driven by vampiristic lust one faces when drinking the blood of their beloved. In this moment, Comte desires nothing more than to become one with her - to claim her further, but to do it in a way that is most affectionate. So he puts all his might in getting out of his pants as soon as possible.

The slow drag of Leonardo's cock inside MC halts, preparing for making room for Comte's as Leonardo breathes out small emissions of hot air against her sweat-lined nape, sending additional shivers all over. He praises her quietly, scandalous words in his mother tongue egging her on further to accommodate their lover's cock inside her needy, wet pussy, just like she's done many times for them. It's not long before MC feels Comte pocking at her already stuffed entrance, making his way inside with a slow push.

Once he bottoms out as well, he carefully handles MC's weight into his own hands, gesturing to her to put her arms around his neck. Leonardo keeps his hands around her waist nonetheless, making sure their girl is securely held up in their embrace as they make love to her.

Their hips start thrusting in unison, the coil in MC's belly tightening to an impossible to bear degree as she braces herself for another body-shaking orgasm.

"I-I want…together…"

Comte seems to be back to his more controlled self because the elegant little smile is back on his lips, his eyes shining with adoration as he kisses over the shell of her ear.

"That's our good girl. Are you going to come for us?"

MC shuts her eyes tightly, brows knitting together as she summons her strength to do something she's meant to do ever since the first drop of blood colored Comte's mouth. She finds the discarded dagger and grips it - by the blade, clutching it in the palm of her hand until a hiss of pain leaves her lips.

The dagger falls from her hand with a thud on the floor beneath, a rivulet of blood starting to drip down.

She rises her hand and reaches behind to where Leonardo's breath fans over her nape, and shoves it on his face, palm-first - in a wordless, wanton message - drink it.

Leonardo doesn't wait for a second invitation and presses his tongue flat against her delicate palm, lapping at it with vigor. The moans he emits are now even more honest, their rumble coming from deep in his chest and resonating within MC, bodies pressed one in another. It's true that she could give him his sharing of the reward in another couple of minutes, upon moving into a more comfortable position, likely in their next round, but all is meant to be fair tonight. So she indulges into driving him crazy like that, knowing full-well that it would trigger his orgasm almost on the spot.

Seeing that both his lovers are on their limits, Comte lets his head fall on MC's shoulder as he picks up the speed of his thrusts a little, stimulating the two of them simultaneously.

Their moans mix together, MC desperately trying to inform of having reached her limit, but she knows - they got her, they're there to follow her into the pits of pleasure.

"L-Leonardo!!! Abel!"

As the orgasm hits her, she feels hot spurts of cum filling her insides to the brim. The seconds stretch out to make it feel as if they're going on forever as hips buckle and hands grip harder on her skin.

The sinful sensation of their mixed pleasure leaking from her abused hole only sends new shiver down her core, but her heart beats with content. The desire to kiss them, to keep kissing them forever, fills her, and she angles her head to meet firstly Leonardo's lips, then Comte's.

Their shared kiss is just a little messy, perhaps not unlike the rest of their endeavors, but none cares. Carefully settling her down on her feet again, MC falters like a newborn fawn, making them laugh as she earns herself a couple of apologetic kisses.

"See cara mia? Sharing a taste only makes us greedy brutes. We need to think of a better way to settle things between us..."

Comte snorts, mumbling out a "talk about yourself" under his nose. With one hand on MC's waist, he leans down to put the other on the back of her knees in preparation to scoop her up in his arms - only to be stopped by Leonardo who does the exact same on his own, making MC yelp as the gravity slips right beneath her feet.

"You two are unbelievable…"

MC shakes her head, still a little dizzy from their doings, in the best way possible of course. And I'm unbelievably lucky to have you all to myself, she thinks, but refuses to say it out loud in fear it would further stroke their egos, or worse, result in another friendly fight. Seeing the two typically mature men behave like that with each other, she feels like she is having a glimpse of their old days.

Yes, definitely very lucky.

"You said something, cara mia?"

She chuckles at the involuntary slip of her tongue, only nuzzling further into Leonardo's chest as she lets him princess-carry her to the bedroom.

"I was just saying that I love you both, that's it."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @leonardoism @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @thehappycat123 @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @theuwuisunreal @ravenarld @kyokirigiri-22 @kimmy-banana @btarinana @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @trishtori @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @judgemental-seal @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @toxiicmoron @ikemenlover24 @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @fun-ghoul-neela @salty-fed-up-bitch @coornn Please let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #Ikemen Vampire Comte #Ikemen Vampire Leonardo #Ikevamp Comte #Ikevamp Leonardo #Ikevamp fanfiction #Ikevamp smut #VISIONSOFTEMPTATION2021 #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #ikevamp leonardo

218 notes · View notes