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ghoultramp · 3 years

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study buddies [sukuna x reader] {req}

▷ jjk

↳ pairing: sukuna x f!reader

↳ content: { request fic } - dom!sukuna, subby!reader, curvy&soft!reader, college!au, dubcon, choking, spitting, marking (biting, scratching), dacryphilia, degradation (?), breath play (?), a sprinkle of praise (as a treat), nicknames for reader (princess, babygirl)

↳ words: 4.7k

⇢ summary: sukuna’s a little fed up of yuji having you all the fun with you, so when yuji suggests you should take a break from studying, sukuna decides it’s the perfect opportunity to have a taste of yuji’s little princess.

also available on ao3

⇢ note: request for nemi; i’m so sorry it took so long to get around to this but i hope this makes up for the wait! a huge thank you for being my partner in crime on this and for some of the fantastic ideas you shared.

Yuji had been grumbling at his textbook for the better part of ten minutes before you peered over the top of yours. While he lay chest down on the floor, your legs were lazily propped over the small of his back. Your own back was supported by a pillow against your bed frame, comfortable enough, but you were starting to ache. Yuji wittered beneath his breath, he looked sweet when he tried to concentrate; his eyebrows furrowed and his nose wrinkled, but it was the way his tongue poked over his top lip that made you giggle.

“Stop,” he groaned, “this is hard.”

You cleared your throat as you closed your book, placing it on your lap.

“Which question is it now?” you asked, lifting your legs off him.

He grumbled incoherently, flipping the same page back and forth. You shook your head and shuffled next to him, straightening out your skirt as you brought your knees together to retain some modicum of decency. You leaned your weight against your left hand and softly patted Yuji’s head with the other.

“Uhm,” he mumbled, “still on the first one…?”

“Yuji-Kun,” you sighed, “have you been listening to a word I’ve said?”

He looked at you through his peripheral vision while his mouth fought against a nervous smirk. You playfully tapped him against the side of the head. Yuji feigned injury, holding his head and rolling onto his back; you were trying so hard not to laugh as he rolled about, wailing dramatically.

“You’re such a baby,” you told him, throwing the textbook to the side.

You watched as he stopped and spread his limbs out like a starfish, he turned his head in your direction.

“Says the little Princess,” he retorted, he flashed a grin when your cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink.

He loved rendering your speechless with the utterance of a single word. To everyone on the outside, you and Yuji were this cute, Hallmark-movie, high-school sweetheart-type couple, barely even kissed, blushing at the sweet whispers you exchanged; how wrong they were.

Those sweet whispers that made you blush wildly were due to Yuji sharing with you his demands for you that evening—because you would always be his good Babygirl, his good little Princess. They would never see him grope you beneath the lecture hall desks, purposefully dragging you to the back. He’d ignore you as you cried into the sleeve of your sweater while his fingers fiddled with your sensitive little bud behind your underwear.

He rolled onto his side to prop his head up with his hand, you brought your hands up to cover your flushed cheeks.

“Hey,” he was trying not to laugh, finding your bashfulness absurdly loveable, “why don’t we take a break?”

A squeak escaped through the fingers of the hand that covered your mouth. Yuji awkwardly shifted onto his hands and knees, crawling toward you. When he sat up next to you, he swung his legs around to place them on either side of you; trapping you between him and the bed frame.

“Now who’s the baby?” he cooed, teasing you more by poking your hands playfully.

He laughed at your attempt to look annoyed, it was wasted. You resigned, watching as he began to lean into you, his hand pressed against the back of your head and his lips brushed against your ear.

“Or should I say,” his whisper was a low growl, “Babygirl?”

“Yuuuuuji,” you were whining as you squirmed between his legs, “you’re doing this on purpose.”

The warm breath expelled by his chuckle brushed against your neck. You felt the grip he held on the back of your head fall to your wrists, you didn’t fight him as he pulled your hands from your face. You knew he got off on how bashful you always were, and maybe you played into that a little, he felt the hot flush of your cheeks radiate against him.

He could devour you so easily.

You felt a thumb press hard against your chin, pushing your head right back. A pitiful laboured noise escaped your mouth, now pushing his palm against your throat. It wasn’t quite enough pressure to stop you from breathing, but enough to cause you discomfort. Enough to satisfy him. For the moment, at least.

“…ji,” you were fortunate enough to be able to squeeze the last syllable of his name.

Using his free hand, he kneaded at the delicious pudge of skin that poked out above your slightly-too-tight thigh-high socks. They were just a part of one of your many little uniforms reserved only for Yuji, and today was one of his favourites; a just-tight-enough shirt opened enough for your delicate, frilly lingerie—of his choosing, of course—to peek out, paired with a simple, pleated skirt.

You were ever so grateful when he lightened the pressure on your larynx, allowing you to urgently drag in a deep breath. But it was mere seconds before you were gasping and panting, succumbing to his will as his fingers pressed gently against the damp cotton of your panties.

“Finally,” you heard him say, the lowered tone of his voice triggered your flight response.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered.

“Yuji’s not home right now, Princess,” he declared, “it’s not fair that he gets to have all the fun anyway.”

“Su-Sukuna, please,” you whined, tilting your pelvis back in an attempt to escape his roaming fingers, he only pressed against you harder.

“Why don’t you let me take you for a ride, babygirl,” as he said it, he dragged his finger downward, following your sweet, little slit beneath your underwear.

“You p-promised you wouldn’t,” if it wasn’t for the fact that Sukuna was so close to you, he never would have heard your feeble pleas.

“We all promise things we don’t really mean,” he groaned, removing his hand on your throat.

Sukuna smirked all the while you gasped for air—once again—and then whimpered, the focus in your sight made everything soft, your head felt full of cotton wool. Sukuna sniggered, the dumb, heavy-lidded look on your pretty, little face was nothing less than perfection. He pressed his fingers a slightly bit harder against your clit, inhaling sharply when he pulled strangled little mewls from behind your slightly parted lips.

Sukuna was more than a little fond of Yuji’s choice of mate, he’d been waiting far too long for this opportunity and he wasn’t going to squander it.

He was going to savour every moment.

“Let’s see,” Sukuna contemplated, relieving your clit of his fingers. He’d want you to beg for it, prove just how much of a needy little whore you really were; he’d have you screaming his name soon enough.

You whined at him as his hands crept along the outsides of your thighs, under your skirt, grabbing hold of your shapely hips. He ignored your cries while he pulled you toward him, your skirt now ruched above your waist.

“C’mere,” he grunted, jostling you with some force when you didn’t move quick enough for him.

From your position—your head now propped where your back had been, Sukuna suspending your arse with his large hands—you could almost pretend that it was still Yuji. It was still his body after all, right? Your eyes passed over the dark lines that only Sukuna had—you always thought they looked like tattoos—and the closed, second set of eyes. Those eyes unnerved you, scared you. You dropped your gaze.

You didn’t ever think you’d have to face this situation, Yuji had reassured you time and time again that he had control of Sukuna, that he wouldn’t be able to take over when things got hot and heavy between the both of you. Now, you supposed Sukuna had lied about being compliant the entire time.

Sukuna continued, “I demand a taste of this—“ he yanked your underwear down your thighs, pulling a little too hard on the waistband, “—sweet fucking cunny.”

Dumbfounded, you were only able to watch him with curious, wide eyes as he moved your legs to benefit him while he struggled to remove your underwear. He was clearly getting impatient, throwing your soaked underwear over his head and across the other side of the room.

Sukuna let out a long, deep moan, as he shuffled himself back. He brought your legs down, pressing his muscular upper-arms against the back of your thighs; this was his way of stabilising you while having both of his hands free.

With his biceps pushing into your thighs, you yelped as your neck was forced into an uncomfortable position. The top of your head pressed against the base of the bed while your ear squashed into your shoulder; you scrambled to hoist yourself up, pushing your palms against the floor.

“Ah-ah,” he growled, yanking you down by the hips.

Sukuna mumbled something, you may not have been able to hear it, but your widely spread cunt certainly felt him say something. He brought the index finger of his right hand up to hover just out of reach of your presenting hole; raising his gaze to catch you looking at him--your chest heaving with your gulping breaths, your eyes almost entirely closed, with your tongue gently lolled out over your bottom lip--he certainly hadn’t expected you to submit to him like this so easily.

“I can see why Yuji likes you,” Sukuna mused, you gasped loudly when his thick finger penetrated you for the first time, “a needy little bitch in heat, like you?”

He let out a satisfied groan as you convulsed against him, nowhere for you to go as he twisted his finger, left to right and back again, fucking you with little care as his thrusts became almost violent. You cried out when he began to hit his palm quite forcefully against your clit with each thrust of his finger; Sukuna’s dark eyes glared up at you, his thick brows pulling together in the middle of his brow while he snarled at you.

You really were trapped.

“I happen to know you like it rough,” he was smirking, the loud, wet sound that came from between your legs as he removed his finger with a yank make you shrink beneath him.

“But, let’s get one thing straight,” he continued, moaning while he sucked at your sweet juices that soaked his finger, “your little Yuji-Kun won’t ever compare to a demon,” Sukuna watched the panic set in your eyes, felt your thighs shaking against his arms as he angled you up.

“It’ll be so delightful and easy, making you teeter on that edge,” he snarled, “between pain and pleasure until I see fit.”

You yelped uncomfortably when the pad of his heavy thumb pressed into your clit; you heard him chuckle above your cries, pressing against it harder. Sukuna pursed his lips against your inner thigh. You felt his smirk against your skin when his thumb quickly shifted from your clit to your hole; it was without warning, your slick allowing him to pull in and out with ease. But the intrusion made you shudder, followed closely by an uncontainable wail.

“Oh, Princess,” he cooed, talking into your thigh, “you’re going to make over-stimming you so much fucking fun.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” it was a pitiful attempt at finding your voice.

Sukuna either couldn’t hear you or at the very least, he didn’t want to hear you. He dragged his tongue along your delicate skin, playfully nipping at you every few inches.

Oh, how it amused him when you squirmed, afraid of his real bite, perhaps? The thought excited him.

You continued to whimper while Sukuna roamed your thighs, but when he flicked the tip of his tongue across your clit—fucking you with his thumb, his fingernails digging into the flesh of your arsecheeks—you brought your hand to your face, biting down on the flesh of your wrist.

Sukuna ignored you, giving attention to your throbbing clit, using his free hand to spread your lips just a bit more, enough for him to sink his lips down and around you. He loved when you made those whiny, little bleats—so pathetic, so fucking easy.

But, no, this wasn’t enough for Sukuna. He jerked his thumb out—your walls quivered around the empty space—and replaced it with his tongue; he groaned loudly as he sloppily lapped at your dripping, wet cunt.

Crying into your hand, still biting down on your already raw flesh, you felt the pull of your hips, ready to spasm with the release that was building up within your core. Sukuna masterfully worked his way around your insides, tensing the tip of his tongue to satisfy that sweet spot within you.

“Cum for me, Princess,” his deep voice was cast even lower as he growled as he spoke those words, commanding you; you felt a pressure within your pelvis vibrate and coil.

A pretty, choked sob found its way behind your lips as you relaxed your head to the side. The arm you had been using to silence yourself came down on Sukuna’s head so hard he scratched at your outer thigh; that would surely leave a mark. Whether you were willing to admit it or not, the thought excited you, you wanted him to hurt you.

Sukuna seemed frustrated when you didn’t obey his demand.

“I said fucking cum for me, Princess,” he snarled, firmly placing his hands on either side of your arse. You gasped, feeling the sting of him driving the points of his nails into your flesh. “I won’t hesitate to hurt you, y’know,” he continued in between tending to your soft, little cunt, “but I get the feeling you’d—“ he huffed, driving his nails into you, eliciting a strangled, wailing moan from your lips, “—like it.”

A whimpering, twitching mess was all you were beneath Sukuna’s grip. You heard the sloppy, wet noises combining with his hungry moans, tasting as much of you as he possibly could. Leaning back onto his knees, Sukuna noticed the bright flush in your cheeks.

“Sweet, little thing,” he laughed, “look, she’s embarrassed.”

Sukuna delighted in having you as his play-thing, but he wasn’t quite done with you yet. While he stared at you with his impossibly dark eyes, you heard the distinct jostling of a belt being undone; you heard it land with a thud when he discarded it to the side, triggering your body to shudder once more.

He wasn’t impressed with you when you lowered your gaze away.

“No, no, no,” he chuckled, “you will return the favour, Babygirl.”

Your heart beat wildly against your chest, your breathing was nothing but desperate, clamouring gasps as he hoisted you by your hair. Your protesting cries meant nothing to him as he effortlessly pulled you to your knees and the sight of your eyes brimming with tears amused him all the more.

“You’d do it for him, wouldn’t you?” he gave an inflection to his voice, trying to mimic Yuji’s, “It’s still his body, right?”

Sukuna’s grip on your hair tightened while he fiddled with the zip of his trousers, you felt helpless, watching as he relieved his thick, hard cock from its clothed prison. It was Yuji’s body, but like this—when Sukuna felt the need to barge his way in—it was his, not Yuji’s.

“Isn’t it?” he spat, pushing you down toward his crotch, cock in hand.

You may have been too shocked to form words, disjoined syllables tumbling from your lips, but not shocked enough to resist him. You didn’t recoil when your lips pressed against the swollen, wet head of his cock, as he brushed his pre-cum across your lips. In fact, you were eager, Sukuna laughed when you parted your lips, ready to receive him.

“See, it’s not that bad, is it?” he mused as he tugged your head back to look up at him.

You heard him stifle a low growl, looking up at him with your pretty, glassy eyes and your puffy, pink lips.

Whining at him as you placed your hands on either side of his muscular thighs, you were a desperate little pet eager for master’s attention. You didn’t care that he held your weight by your hair, it didn’t matter that it hurt. You didn’t care how aggressive he was; it didn’t matter when it felt this good.

“That’s it,” his smile was devilish, allowing you to lower your head into his lap on your own terms.

When you moved Sukuna’s hand away from his cock, he let out a chortle that made your heart flutter. He was gentle while you teased the aching head of his cock. You were ever so pleased with yourself when you pulled guttural, feral moans from his lips; it was your turn to tease Sukuna. For however long he might allow it, that was.

Which wasn’t long at all, it would seem.

Sukuna was impatient and you were taking far too long, he wanted his dick rammed as far down your throat as he could, and he would. He wasn’t being gentle now, not when he pushed your head down onto him. When you let out a surprised yelp, he took the opportunity to take advantage.

“Fuck,” he hissed while you gagged on the intrusion of his length.

Your throat felt raw, there was no niceness about him now as he held you down. You were sure he would be smirking as you convulsed within his grip, feebly attempting to push against his tensed thighs with very little effect. Yuji might be rough with you, but Sukuna was on a different level, and you quickly understood just how utterly useless any and all attempts to save yourself would be.

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt, and you knew—for certain—that someone was going to be you.

You closed your eyes and held onto his thighs so tight your knuckles turned white; it was the only thing you could do to distract yourself at that moment. The tears he’d forced from your eyes dripped onto your chest with your clumsy movements. You let out a wail of relief when he pulled you away, even just for a moment, it was welcomed.

"There's a good girl," he grunted, admiring the spit that dribbled down your chin, "there's my good little Princess."

Your moan at his words was cut off by a cruel shove of his hand; you gagged under the duress of him ramming into the back of your throat. He didn't care that you choked and spluttered beneath him, in fact, you knew it excited him; the way his cock twitched with each uncomfortable noise you made told you everything.

Every bone in your body screamed at you to submit to him, you would hope it would be less humiliating than this. Sukuna was surprised when you fell limp within his grasp and jerked you back once more.

“I wasn’t sure I’d break you so easily,” he chuckled, raising his free hand to your tear-stricken face.

You shuddered when his thumb stroked away at your wet cheek. You kept your eyes closed as his hand snaked its way across your face and down to your mouth. He tightened his grip on your hair as he held down hard with his other hand.

Your eyes darted open, Sukuna was a God looking down upon a mere mortal.

He hissed, you felt a heavy pressure against your lips as he used his hand to push you back against the pillow still propped against the bed. He was quick, untangling his hand from your hair to rest it on your inner thigh. He was laughing as his fingers tightened around your thigh, claws pinching at your flesh.

“Open wide, Babygirl,” baring his teeth at you, he looked maniacal, his hulking shape looming over you.

You sobbed helplessly as the mouth on his palm opened up, summoning a tongue that successfully infiltrated your mouth with very little effort. He laughed as your pretty, flushed face twisted, breathing frantically through your nose.

You were unable to make out the words he growled while he dragged his claws along the tender flesh of your inner thigh. The games he’d played with your throat, and consequently your oxygen, had dulled your senses—all except the ones that mattered, of course.

The bottom of his palm hit hard against your abused clit and your eyes widened with realisation. Sukuna smirked, both hands pressing so impossibly hard against both sets of your lips as he leaned into you.

“Just a little more,” he growled, “and then you’ll be ready for me.”

There was no time to think before the hand at your mouth pushed your head back, the finger and thumb on either side of your nostrils were dangerously close to completely restricting your airflow. Another tongue infiltrated your aching hole, he laughed at you as you convulsed beneath him. He allowed you to shake your head from side to side but nothing more, he found your efforts at yet another struggle tempting.

Your hips bucked defiantly beneath his hand as he bore against you. You whimpered against the tongue at your mouth as the one inside your twitching hole tickled against your most sensitive spot. Sukuna brought his face down impossibly close to yours, now gently grinding his palm against your clit; the only thing you felt were tight shocks that battered away within your core.

Sukuna gripped your face with his fingers, careless as his claws almost scratched at your face. When your head was brought up to meet him, your noses touched. It was unnerving.

You felt Sukuna’s tongues retreat. You were conflicted when you felt the gnawing ache of emptiness that was left behind. Formulating thoughts seemed impossible, coherency was nowhere to be found. With heavy-lidded eyes, you lazily watched as Sukuna knelt back.

It was cute, the way you opened your legs even wider for him. It wasn’t enough for Sukuna, nothing ever seemed enough for Sukuna. You felt his clawed hands grip the underside of your tender thighs; your breath shuddered, feeling the wet head of his cock bump against your widened hole.

“Good girl,” he breathed, “open wide.”

There was no other warning than his words as he shunted his hips forward, you moaned low in your throat—a strangled, feral noise—as your dripping wet cunt enveloped his throbbing length with very little ease.

“See,” he grunted, tightening his grip on your thighs, “I can be kind—“ he pulled his entire length, your hole quivered at the empty space, “—when I want to be.”

You wailed as he bottomed out against you, digging his claws into your flesh hard enough to draw blood as he frantically thrust. He’d been patient long enough but, while you’d been a good girl and indulged him, playtime was over.

Your head whirled and your limbs were numb. The only nerves that you felt any connection to were the ones in your pussy, the ones that made it possible to feel every protruding vein of his achingly hard cock The nerves that made it possible to feel every twitch it made as Sukuna put all his weight into you. He grunted, pushing back on your thighs, you yelped when he folded them against your stomach.

Sukuna delighted in hearing the moan you gave him after yet another deep, unrelenting thrust, his pelvis grinding roughly against your clit. You found yourself unraveling beneath him, you no longer felt within your own body.

“Yuji,” you mewled.

It was an easy mistake to make, a mistake that Sukuna did not appreciate. He laughed down at you as he picked up his pace. An unrelenting pace that shunted your body with each and every thrust. A pace that made you see stars.

“Silly little bitch,” he growled, spitting on your cheek, he was surprised when you let out a gasp of arousal, “say my name.”

He watched you convulse beneath him, felt you writhe and twist in his arms. It was delicious. The way your cunt clamped on his cock, tighter and tighter, and harder and harder until your cervix felt bruised.

“You’re mine right now, Princess,” he told you breathlessly, “Say it.”

You felt his spit hit your face again and your pelvis tightened. Things like that were supposed to feel this good, and for a brief moment, an internal struggle between arousal and embarrassment took place. Your arousal when Sukuna spoke.

“Say my fucking name,” was his final demand, but you could only cry out nonsense, “Say it!”

“Su-Sukuna!” you cried, obliged to obey him.

You were rewarded with the relief of Sukuna removing one of his hands from your thighs, too fucked-out to move—or care—your leg still rested against your stomach. He bared his teeth and brought his hand back; you were astonished that he never lost his momentum.

He grunted as he breathed.

“That’s right,” his voice began to waver, close to his own climax, “good girl.”

You could almost believe you weren’t just a piece of meat to him, the way his tongue wrapped around the words he used could make anyone feel special. But you were rudely reminded this was Sukuna, not Yuji, when his swung-back hand collided with your thigh.

The Earth itself could have shattered at that very moment, and all you’d feel would be him; you thought yourself lucky enough to remember your name.

“Good—“ he grunted against your arching hips, begging for more you couldn’t possibly take, “—girl.”

Sukuna juddered on top of you, within you, while his claws made their final assault on your skin, while he buried himself as deep within you as possible. You writhed and mewled beneath him, your hands grasped at the carpet, desperate to hold onto something while the pressure of his hot cum filling your battered cunt overwhelmed you.

There was a faint sting that broke through the pleasure as he continued to roll his hips against you, gently for the time being, now that he was spent.

It astonished you how quickly his breathing returned to normal while you struggled to draw any breaths that felt satisfying, still recoiling and twitching. You could speak only broken gibberish.

Sukuna lowered your legs, you wished he’d more gentle; you winced as your hip joints creaked having been forced into such an uncompromising position. You felt the weight of his chest press against yours and his nose nuzzled gently against the crook of your neck.

There was a tense moment as you lay under him as your senses regained consciousness.

“Yu-Yuji?” you whimpered, tears threatened the edges of your eyes.

The pretty pink man who lay on top of you let out an angered growl, the hands that tightened around your wrists no longer had claws; there was care in the grip.

“I’ll kill him,” you heard him growl, his grip tightening.

“Yuji I’m—“ he didn’t leave you room to finish as he lifted his head, gazing down at you with furrowed eyebrows and bold, dark eyes.

“But first,” he told you, looking down at the mess between where your bodies connected, “it looks like I have to punish you first.”

He looked back to you—was he enjoying this?—and cast a dirty smirk at you.

“Because despite what Sukuna may think or say,” he continued, looming closer to you, his cock twitching with every word, “you haven’t been a good girl, have you, Princess?”

Your lips may have been moving but your voice was inaudible.

“You can thank Sukuna for one thing though, Princess,” he growled, nipping at your neck.

His voice broke when he deliberately moaned in your ear, a sound that made you squirm with delight.

“There’s no more holding back,” was the last thing he said before raising your arms above your head and locking his teeth to your neck.

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jemjams02 · 3 years

Note

C-could you maybe do a Drabble on chubby Beel? Because that is cute as fuck

Abso-fucking-lutely

side note after finishing: I didn't intend for this to be so long, but I couldn't stop thinking about snuggling up to a big soft Beel 🥰🥰

His morning started as usual: Waking up to his stomach grumbling, and the mouth-watering smell of you already making his usual, rather extravagant breakfast. He hummed a little in his still sleepy state, wondering how he got so lucky.

After a moment (and another very noisy hunger pain), he lazily got out of bed. His first instinct, of course, was to rush to the kitchen immediately, and devour whatever you weren't currently using as ingredients (though, to be honest, he can't promise he won't eat the ingredients too), but at the risk of being caught wandering the house stark naked, he begrudgingly started rummaging around his dresser for a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a tshirt, just to make himself decent.

While he was still an active member of the RAD's student council, he was no longer an active student. In fact, the only reason he was still apart of the student council was, well, because Lucifer sought the input of his entire family, hoping that someday they might actually have decent advice for their all too enthusiastic prince. However, Beel's inactivity as a student meant he'd skimped pretty hard on his gym visits. He figured he didn't have to go as often because he was no longer a player on their school's sports teams, and planned on going only a couple times a week. His plans, however, were dashed at a moments notice. Every time he tried to go out to the gym, you would entice him to stay, albeit not intentionally. He couldn't help it, he was completely head over heels for you, after all.

Returning to his bed with his clothes, he began lazily dressing himself. Had his boxers always felt snug? He could have sworn they weren't squeezing his thighs this much a few weeks ago. He furrowed his brow, tugging at the waistband of the clothing article, finding it didn't stretch as far from his body as he remembers. So, he went to go check himself out in the tall mirror in the back of his room, something he rarely paid any attention to, since he had much better things to focus on (AKA: you).

When his gaze fell on his reflection, he paused. He definitely looked different. His face was a little rounder, reminding him of when he was just a cherub up in the Celestial Realm. He noticed his biceps have become less defined as well, and his pecks were a bit softer looking too.

As his eyes roamed his body, he noticed other things: His abs had completely disappeared from view, replaced by a soft layer of pudge. His thighs pressed together where he stood as well, no longer separated despite him not standing any differently than he normally would.

He stood there for a minute, pondering if this were truly a bad thing. It wasn't abnormal for him to gain weight quickly, the only difference was that he didn't turn all that food into gym-rat energy. He was still as strong as he always has been, nothing had changed there.

He was only worried about his appearance for a moment, before quickly realizing that you certainly would have noticed immediately. You see him naked pretty much every day, so of course you would be able to spot any differences in his body right away. Clearly, it didn't bother you, and after pondering it for a moment, he realized you had been far more touchy than usual anyway. Constantly wanting to be laying on him or pressed into his side. You were also the one who handled all the cooking, and not once did he notice a change in your meals. There wasn't anything missing, nor had you somehow lessened his portions. In fact, you've been cooking more and more! Trying out all sorts of devildom recipes and whatever all else Barbatos would share with you. Certainly, if you minded it at all, you would have made some changes. His worries about your reaction to this stopped as quickly as they had started.

That's when he heard the bedroom door opening, he turned, knowing full well who it was, his signature smile spreading across his face. Standing in the doorway, of course, was you! Coming to tell him that his 10 course breakfast was ready! You found yourself smothered before you could even say a word, soft arms curling around your waist and lifting you off the ground. Immediately, as if out of habit, you nuzzled into your puppy of a boyfriend, reveling in the soft warmth that encompassed you.

"Good morning, baby," you mumble, pressing light kisses to his cheeks, "I made you breakfast..." just as you mumbled the word "breakfast", Beel's tummy grumbled hungrily in response. You didn't even register that he had already started towards the dining room until you saw the silverware glinting under the light of the chandelier.

He was humming happily as he set you down in order to begin his usual morning feast, and you couldn't help but smile. He was so happy to be eating your cooking, after all, and you were so happy to see him enjoying life.

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me beelzebub #sockwrites #sock answers asks #beel obey me #Chubby Beel #Chubby Beelzebub #tummy #obey me fluff

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radabadabing-bing · 3 years

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Wager of Weights

So embarrassing story, I wrote the bulk of this in 2019 and apparently had it like, almost complete?? I don’t know why I didn’t finish it then, but I cleaned it up and got it all ready to go because, while perhaps not totally reflective of my current work, there’s no point in tossing it down the drain. I will also say it’s not totally what I usually write, and my first time writing a lot of the content present in it, so it may also not be the best? But I’m a harsh judge of my own work haha. To clarify, this was (and still is) a gift for @pangtasias-atelier all the way when they were still Kink of the Emblem. And really I have to give him a lot of thanks for helping me grow this blog in the first place, so thanks for that. If you are somehow following me but not him, do that because he makes some good stuff (and comms good stuff too). And if you’re reading this right now- You’re awesome dude, love your work, and I hope you enjoy it!

It was no secret that the Summoner played favorites, and those favorites were Grima and Tibarn. One or the other was usually found by his side, and at times even both. But the problem had laid in the fact that there were two favorites...and one summoner. Tibarn didn’t seem to mind too much about this. So, perhaps more accurately, the problem laid with Grima.

Grima was a controversial figure among the heroes themselves- something of the territory coming with being an ancient dragon with little to no regard for human life. The Summoner had pacified Grima into being passive-aggressive to most of the others...Though Tibarn usually faced the aggressive half.

Grima had been feeling particularly vitriolic on this day. The Summoner had gone out on patrol without either him or Tibarn, leaving the two in awkward coexistence. “You know, if this vessel had the muscle your body had, I’m almost certain the summoner would enjoy my company much more. Enough to leave you behind.” “Really now?” As said, Tibarn didn’t mind the venomous words. He viewed the fell dragon as a bit of a blowhard, never really giving it too much thought. The guy thought he was on top of the world, and as a nigh impotent god he sort of was.

“Almost certainly.” Grima retorted, unaware of what he was starting here.

“Hmm...Well, why not a competition?” A good challenge had presented itself to Tibarn, he wasn’t about to miss the chance. “Me and you- We work ourselves harder than ever. We both commit ourselves to getting stronger and stronger, and see if your little theory there holds up.” “Deal.” Not a moment of hesitation from Grima. “I’ll come out on top- just you watch.” The King of Phoenicis grinned at this. It would be an interesting challenge at the least.

Tibarn only needed to ramp up his standard workout. A little more weight. A little more time spent doing it. The rewards of this weren’t immediately noticeable, but as the days rolled on his pecs seemed to bulge ever slightly more, abs right along with them. His thighs and calves refined to a great extent, looking in shape enough to crack stone. Biceps nearly tearing apart his sleeves, Tibarn finding himself needing more bandage to cover his arm to his liking.

Even his silhouette- already intimidating from a good height and wingspan, seemed to grow ever further. A few inches on both his height and wings. His clothes constrained ever so slightly more to contain his greater apex form.

Grima had a more interesting growth period. The vessel he inhabited needed no sustenance as long as he controlled it, and similarly had a nigh boundless energy pool, meaning that it was simply what effort he was willing to put into the competition. To self improve took valuable time away from being at the Summoner’s side, but not doing it would give the hawk a free victory, and Grima hated that even more.

The growth he had was more dramatic than Tibarn’s, but ultimately he could only just catch up. Just a few inches under the laguz, just able to lift a bit less than what Tibarn could, and most frustratingly seeing that the Summoner hadn’t actually changed who they spent the most time with. Proving Grima’s theory wrong. This had frustrated the dragon to no end, how could he possibly be wrong?

But during a session, where he attempted to still catch up to Tibarn, it dawned on him. He didn’t necessarily need to beat the hawk king, no. It was futile at this point, not without submitting himself further to this...mortal regimen. No, all Grima needed to do was drag Tibarn behind! And drag him very, very far behind.

Tibarn already ate quite a bit, and having a rigorous training session now only seemed to increase his appetite. Which made it exceptionally easy to slip in a curse or two on some meat. But Grima wasn’t about to make it obvious. This would be a slow burn.

At first, Tibarn’s gains seemed to stagnate. Simply stopped growing. At a glance, someone would think that he had hit the apex. He just couldn’t improve anymore. Though once a slight layer of pudge formed near his waistline, it was clear he hadn’t only stopped his growths- he was degrading.

Each passing day, Tibarn seemed to be gaining more and more weight. Getting wider rather than taller, his clothes ill-fitting not because of burgeoning muscle, but fat. With the greater weight, his workouts had become too laborious to follow up on, which certainly didn’t help the sudden expansion. Soon constrained to the ground, too heavy to even be lifted by his wings the slightest bit.

All the while Grima watched with sadistic satisfaction. Tibarn’s body swelled by the day, the laguz undoubtedly having lost at this point. Grima’s vessel had grown significantly- past Tibarn’s form before he had laid the curse. His shirt hardly fit, more akin to a crop top, and the cloak that had once only been an inch or two from the ground was now hovering near a foot. If Grima’s simple status as the fell dragon hadn’t kept people away before, his pinnacle form sure had now. His mere presence exuded a terrifying aura, though this once again didn’t keep away the summoner.

By chance, Grima had encountered Tibarn one day. Whom was waddling now, something that Grima took some amusement in. “I...I don’t know what happened.” He admitted, a slight jiggle to his two chins. “It would appear I’ve surpassed you.” Grima said with a smug cadence. “And indeed, the Summoner spends more time at my side.”

“Right…” Tibarn wasn’t exactly sure how true that was, but he couldn’t argue that Grima had indeed beaten him at this point.

A few more moons, and the hawk could no longer be found waddling through the halls. Apparently he had grown too large to even move. Music to Grima’s ears.

Until he noticed something. The summoner had started to periodically disappear throughout the day- not off to battle clearly, not with the food he was carrying. With Grima’s interest piqued, he tailed the Summoner, managing to not be noticed even with his larger size. Not the first thing on his mind, as he was far more frustrated with the destination. Tibarn’s dwelling.

It was back to the drawing board for Grima once more. He simply did not understand. He had undermined Tibarn to immobility...Exceeded his body. What was he getting wrong? There was a piece of the puzzle missing...and it dawned on him once more.

The Summoner hadn’t gone out of his way to see Tibarn before the laguz had been grounded.

Grima had been trying too hard all along. And in doing this, had let Tibarn win the adoration of the Summoner, though it was still soon enough to steal this victory back. For every curse the dragon had laid, he always had a solution.

Night had fallen, and Grima’s final plot was being enacted. With no pesky heroes to gawk at him or see where he was going at this hour, nor the summoner’s watchful eye, the path to where Tibarn’s massive form slept was simple to traverse.

Grima would admit, he never got a good look at the hawk king after that last brief conversation. So seeing Tibarn now was something of a shock. His body had overtaken the bed, though calling it a “bed” was a bit of an overstatement. More like mattresses to keep something between the floor and the laguz. It took Grima a moment to make out limbs and a head.

It would’ve been amusing, if it wasn’t so effective at getting the summoner’s attention. But that privilege would not be Tibarn’s for much longer. A glow to his eyes and hands, he began to cast the spell. The giant tanned mass seemed to rumble, beginning a transformation, or rather, a reversion. Though this didn’t rouse the still slumbering Tibarn. Meanwhile, Grima’s form began to change- his set of washboard muscles beginning to disappear, as a gut formed in its place.

With the counter curse successfully placed, Grima could leave the room satisfied. As the hawk shrunk like a deflating balloon, the dragon’s vessel did the opposite- body expanding every which way as he returned to his own chambers. Thighs now beginning to chafe, clothes straining to contain the stolen fat. Seams popping and tearing, a smug grin on his plump face.

In the morning, Tibarn awoke, like a weight was lifted off of him. Quite literally: He could move once more. And not just move at a waddle- His adonis form had been completely returned to him. How, Tibarn wasn’t sure. But his inner laguz instincts were happy about it, ready to return to the battlefield that very day.

Though one hero was not very ready to join Tibarn out in the battlefield, which was Grima. His body anchored firmly down within his dwelling, only able to make the slightest movements as he looked down upon the summoner. Just as immobile as Tibarn had been a few hours prior.

“Summoner, it’s quite terrible!” He said in a casual, almost mocking tone. “I simply woke up like this. I certainly can’t go out to fight in this state...or leave this chamber at all.”

That wasn’t Grima’s concern. Sure, he had certainly lost the wager he had made with Tibarn, but that was all worthless in retrospect. No, the look of awe on the Summoner’s face- That was all Grima needed to know he had won.

#feeder emblem #fire emblem weight gain #male wg #i would tag this under muscle stuff but #its not really content i'm gonna make a lot of #male expansion

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honestsycrets · 5 years

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No Thieves Welcome XVI: Exhale

❛ pairing | hvitserk x reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | hvitserk decides to ask his girlfriend out to prom. margrethe isn’t fond of that. death-- on the horizon.

❛ warnings | potentially offensive character death, teen pregnancy (18 years old), physical illnesses, hopelessness, eating pussy, murder, violence.

❛ sy’s notes | I’m really sorry.

It was a slippery slope.

On one hand, he could have gotten rid of Magnus. On the other hand, shitcanning his baby mama’s best friend when he already fucked her OTHER best friend? Not the best option. But whatever, he could work around this like he always had.

“He’s fuckin’ wit’ me and I’m gonna bust his teeth in. If I had proof that he beat Thora, I’d fuckin’ stick a weight on his ankle and chuck him in the fuckin’ sea.” Hvitserk hisses, ambling backward on his sneakers down the street. The main gates of the school was a stone’s toss away. “Bucked-toothed fucker.”

“If he makes a fuss, we’ll get rid of him. He’s not our brother.”

“We fuckin’ better. ’m tired of his bitch ass.” Hvitserk growls. “Bjorn can’t know.”

Ubbe grunts, a noise that signals he’s done with the conversation. “Are you working tonight?”

“At the docks with uncle. More shipping.”

“Like always.” Ubbe stops. Hvit stops along with him, looking at Ubbe curiously.

“What?”

Hvitserk turns over his shoulder, spotting a long, lithe blonde strutting in heels or-- no, boots, he realizes. Her hair is tight in a ponytail on top of her head, barely tinged. It swishes along her slight back, accentuating the perky ass he had been staring at for some time now. Couldn’t blame him. Torvi is one hot teacher.

“Who? Torvi?” Hvitserk laughs, punching his older brother on his upper arm. “Man, if Margrethe catches you doing that with a teacher,”

“Not my problem,” Ubbe says, checking his watch. Hvitserk has the sudden feeling that he already had done “that” with the teacher. “I broke up with her. Enginnsaðóttir!”

Well, at least he doesn’t have to worry about Bjorn’s reaction to his ex-wife porking his half-brother. Torvi would put him in his place. Hvitserk sighs, left out to deal with the thoughts buzzing around his head until you got there. He leans against the rod iron fence, hands shoved in a pair of rarely worn jeans, a size too fat for the slight pudge he’d gotten since spending nights at your house. Pebernødder cookies were not on his side.

“--just don’t talk to me! Go away!”

Hvitserk hears around the corner.

It’s your voice, clearly upset. He shoves himself off the wall, stomping to a stop in front of the sidewalk you were coming from. With this hands in his pockets, he stands with his feet slightly apart.

“The twins aren’t--” From behind you, he spots Magnus’s wily curls. “--safe.”

You spot Hvitserk, rushing forward to set your hand on his bicep. Hvitserk’s hand comes atop of it, nodding.

“I’d say she’s plenty safe. From you, of course.” Hvitserk drops his hand down to his twins in your stomach, bobbing his head as he considers his children. “But thanks, kid.”

Then swiveling on his foot, Hvitserk shows you inside school grounds. Usually, before class, he’d be taking you to get something at that cute little cafe. He’d buy himself some chocolates to idly snack on, pretending he was half interested in the class.

“C’mon babe,” Hvitserk opens the door for you, pressing on the middle of your back to usher you the ground level and up the stairs. It’s private enough that he corrals you into the corner, near a large window. “What was he talking to you about?”

Leaving.

“He was… he was just, just being stupid,” your eyes focus upon your hands. You find the astral rings that Hvitserk bought you for your first sonogram more interesting. A small buildup of tears is forced back. Hvitserk leans in, his hand at the side of your head.

A girl walks in, paying no attention as she hops up the steps toward class prior to time. Hvit runs his hand down the build-up of stubble. Not that he’s a man that grows much facial hair easily, compared to his chest, but he’s let it go just a bit.

“Don’t lie to me, huh?” Hvitserk lifts your chin, pinning you with force against the wall. “Bet he was telling you to leave me.”

You don’t speak. Knowing he was right, Hvitserk leans down to your stomach. He cradles your belly with two hands, placing a small kiss over the swell. A small puff of air slides out of his mouth before he stands up, caressing his hand over your skirt.

Hvitserk shifts to block any interlopers from looking in on what he was doing. You shift, pushing the leg closest to him out just so. Hvitserk runs his tongue over the top of his teeth, caressing the jagged surface. He seizes the opportunity to run his hand around your thigh, sinking between two thick thighs. Then, jerking upwards, he runs his hand over your soft panties, dipping between them and your precious skin.

“You’re not gonna fuckin’ leave me, righ’?” He asks, grinding his palm as he curves his hand within your panties. A soft sigh slips off your lips, tightening your cunt when you hear steps pitter patter closer. Hvitserk covers you from the eyes of others.

“No, never,” you hum.

Never. Never meant never. Never meant that what he had now— it would last. It had to. For him. For his little man or pretty princess. Hvitserk rewards you by gliding his fingers over your lips, rocking back and forth between soaked folds. The steps pivot up the stairs.

“Say you love me.”

You cling onto his arm, bunching up his dark grey t-shirt. Hvitserk glides his fingers around your cunt, poking inside once he knew he had you good and ready. It should be getting close to class time. Though, it was just a pep rally. It shouldn’t have mattered that much, right?

“Hvit…”

A smooth thrust of his finger leaves you breathless, grasping at his arm. Hvitserk seizes the moment to swivel around, dropping to his knees between your legs that graciously spread for him. Spreading you apart with his fingers, Hvitserk glides his tongue between your folds.

Underneath your skirt, you can hear his sloppy slurps only rivaled by his pleasured grunts. If there’s one thing you know he loves, it’s eating you out. Especially in public places, knowing no one will tell. His family? They didn’t have the best reputation. So as a few stray dumbasses stray in, he has no worries. You grip his bun, guiding him.

“Right… right there,” you whisper, placing your boyfriend just where you wanted for a quick fuck. He curls his fingers, nudging your clit with his nose while noisily slurping across your lips. Your soft moans hasten, lifting and dropping with desperation. With a flick of your hips, Hvitserk drifts back, patiently blowing cold air against your throbbing heat. He delves his tongue down to join his fingers, eating what juices came for him. His fingers slip out, allowing him to eat you with tongue alone.

“I love you…” you comb his hair down, running your thumb over his cheek. His eyes pop open, then soften, bringing his thumb to your pounding clit. He rewards you by rolling your clit between his thumb and index finger over and over, drinking up your pleasure until he hears your cry break into your orgasm. Thankfully, no one was there. Likely because the bells had begun to sound.

After riding out the pleasure with you, Hvitserk stands up, bringing your panties back up with you. Your hands are on his shoulders as you lean up to his lips, a hand behind his neck. You drag him down to kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue in his closed mouth kisses. His smile against your lips breaks the kiss.

“You even taste pregnant.”

Of course, it would be Hvitserk to say that. “You don’t even know what pregnant tastes like.”

“Like you,” he grabs your hand, starting up the stairs to homeroom.

“You’re gross.”

“Yep!”

Magnus and you weren’t on speaking terms. Mostly due to your preference. After all, you couldn’t believe what he said. He almost killed Thora, he asserted. If there was one thing you were sure about, it was that Hvitserk loved Thora. More than himself. So it made this prep rally very lonely despite the fact that Magnus sat next to you.

The sun peeks behind pillows of fluffy clouds. For once, the rain let up. You sat with Hvitserk’s jacket lightly down your shoulders. Even though it was June, it was still cool. The last thing you wanted to do was get sick with your twins. You stomach sat in your lap, visibly round. It wasn’t as if you were that… pregnant, but you would be soon. Everyone knew that it was his. Perhaps that was why people mostly left you alone.

Two twirly cheerleaders leap one over another, twisting and turning into a playful flip one on top of another. Your hand, curves over your stomach, scanning for Hvitserk. It wasn’t as if there was assigned seating. You were… so sure that Hvitserk would have come to sit by you.

“Oh, hi (Y/N)!”

Margrethe plops beside you on the busy, metal bleachers. Her pretty in pink nails curl along the bleacher as she plops down, skirt swaying. She was in uniform for cheerleading, but you question why she isn’t down there cheering on the team. You unconsciously tighten up, anxious to see her beside you after tumbling down the bleachers last time. If she pushed you down this time…

“I had to see them up close!” she reaches out to set a hand to your stomach. “How cute are you all knocked up! I didn't believe it at first. I thought that Hvitserk was just spitting lies but, you’re getting all round and fat! Is it his? Or Ivar’s?”

Abject horror wears your features. That was one lie you did not want to get out. As naturally jealous as Hvitserk could get, he might believe such a terrible lie. You push the hand on your stomach off.

“They’re his,” you say.

“Leave her alone, Margrethe,” Magnus says beside you. “She’s got enough shit to deal with.”

Please welcome your football team! The intercom says. You make out Ubbe jogging across the field to Hvitserk, who you finally make out as handing a few sashes for the graduating portion of the team. They recently won their region. Ubbe was that all-star student. His grades? Perfect. Sports? Always training. His love life though, you wonder about when he shoots Mrs. Torvi that perfect smile. Wasn’t she Bjorn’s ex?

Hvitserk used to be right there with him which was why as Hvitserk swiped the microphone from his big brother’s hand after a speech on how gracious they were to have won. You begin a shake of your head, expecting him to drone on about how he had the perfect big brother.

“Baby mama!” The microphone whizzes in a metallic screech. Oh god, no. You form a cup around the sides of your eyes, pretending like no one was looking at the pregnant chick that so happened to wear Hvitserk’s old soccer jacket, slinking down your arms and framing your small skirt. “Come to prom with me!”

He was so fucking proud. The bleachers light up into whispers. Some saying, oh come on. You are almost too stunned to speak when some random fucker shouts, go baby mama! Beside you, you could practically feel the stinging heat from Margrethe. It was embarrassing. More embarrassing though was staying with someone like Margrethe. You pull the jacket on, zipping past her and anyone else for that matter down the stairs. The barrier between the stairs and ground level stops you.

“I’ll go to prom with you,” God help what you were about to say. “Baby Daddy!”

He laughs, something loud that echoes through the field. Hvitserk chucks the microphone at his big brother, sprinting across the field to where you were. On the bleachers, Margrethe is left gaping.

“He’s taking her?!” She bellows. “She’s fat!”

“She’s the mother of his children.” Magnus points out. “Who did you think he would take? You?”

Margrethe watches Hvitserk take a couple of long steps up the stairs in those cute skinny jeans that made his ass look just right. Her arms fold over when he embraces you, setting a kiss on your lips before the monitors make hissing whistles.

“He’s supposed to take me! He promised! He’s supposed to be mine!”

When a prime opportunity presents itself, Magnus had to take it. What kind of Ragnarsson would he be not to? Hvitserk deserved this. You deserved someone better. Anyone better than that man that kicked his face in and then thought he could intimidate him into submission. Although he could never do the dirty work himself, he was no chicken with his tongue.

“You should show him that then,” Magnus says.

“I will!”

The bleachers erupt as the pep rally is dismissed.

Night fell on the city. Hvitserk stood on the docks, receiving packages of illicit drugs mixed in with legal packages was just a part of the deal in working for his uncle and father. Rollo gave him the tablet with projected imports.

“Finished early, huh kid?” Rollo asks his nephew. Hvitserk nods in response, tapping the last checkbox labeled ( live arrivals: India. ) Hvitserk hands the packaging back to his uncle, shoving his hands into his warm black hoodie.

“That means I can go?”

“Yeah, your lady must be waiting for you,” Rollo informs, punching him on the shoulder. “Siggy is at home for me but I’ll clear down.”

“I’m goin’ to see a friend.”

For important reasons, Hvitserk leaves his car but walks down to the residential streets with his hoodie drawn up tight. A beautiful lily peeks from his pocket. At three in the morning, there was no one in the streets. A car here or there sputters along the abandoned, none noticing the stranger in black.

With gloved hands, he pops the window latch, pushing up the glass. His stomach tightens and yet, nothing came of it. A part of him wishes something had. Her father never set an alarm. He had one, but no, he never set it. Who would break in? The fluffy white cat in the window sill is jarred by his entrance but recognizes him when he draws down his hoodie.

“‘ey Janik,” he calls to the dog, whose head is raised. It settles down. Hvitserk pulls the lily free from his pocket, joining it with the bundle of lilies each a day older than another. Some yellow and dry, some pressed in a book marking ‘Month I, Month II’.

“Prinsesse…” he approaches the bed, not expecting a response.

There is none. Not that he expected any from his precious Thora, who lays in her bed helpless. Her eyes are open but nothing comes of it. Nothing but one stray tear, dripping down the corner of her beautiful skin when he kneels. It’s his.

And he wishes it was hers. Why can’t the tears dribble down her cheeks? Why she can’t move? To show him. He can’t reason why she’s the one stuck in her mind in this bed, the one place where she always…

“That would be my nightmare,” he recalled her saying. She laid beside him in the bed, glowing after sex. They watched stupid documentaries together. Vegetation vs Brain Death. “For my mind to go along with my body.”

“That bad?” Hvitserk brought her against his chest, letting her twirl her fingers through his sparse chest hair.

“To exist and not even know? It must be awful. I’d never like to be like that. So if I ever go like that, put me down.”

Hvitserk laughed, fifteen and stupid. “Don’t say that. You’re young and pretty. That won’t happen to you.”

“Just promise me,” Thora begged.

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

Hvitserk works his jaw, his teeth running over and over. He wasn’t going to wait. He… he couldn’t. If he waited, he would be breaking his promise to her. Hvitserk was anything but an oathbreaker. She wasn’t brain dead, but sure, he wasn’t going to wait for that to happen.

“I promised.” Hvitserk looks to the pillow they once shared. He’d slide it under her beautiful hips, take her from behind. Or sometimes, they used that fluffy white pillow to eat snacks on in bed and watch cheesy rom-com movies that he didn’t feel like watching. He picks it up, doing just as Ragnar told him to do. A flick here, another there with her machines and Hvitserk ambled toward her slowly, praying her father didn’t hear.

It had been long enough, he told himself. She was supposed to get more function. She didn’t have any more than she did then. He held out those first two weeks hoping she would get better. That if… if the doctor said, he didn’t have to do this.

Hvitserk bends his head down into his arm, a sob catching. This was pathetic. This was— this was her choice. But he caught himself hoping. Maybe years from now, maybe two, maybe six, maybe even twenty: she’d be alive. But she wasn’t, Ragnar told him. She would likely never be.

And, after all, this was her choice.

“Fuck…” he whispers, taking one last look at her. He longed to kiss her— just, just one last time. Her plush lips seemed so far away now. But Ragnar told him not to, and for his twins, he’d suffer without it. Hvitserk exhales a puff of air from his nose, rolling his wet cheek into his hoodie.

“It won’ be long, it won’ be— fuck I can’t.”

If you can’t do it, I can.

He knows it has to be him. He looks down to the pillow, then looks to the clock. 4:31am, the clock reads. Do it, he settles. Without looking back he settles the pillow over her face, pressing with enough force on his forearm that he knows will not allow her to get air. He’s not sure what happens next. If she was moving, or fighting, or not. He’s not seeing much of anything either, only sucking in his breath and praying to the gods that Thora’s father isn’t here to see.

They didn’t need to see this. The burden he had been carrying as of late… its too much. Now, knowing that he’ll discover her body, causes him to roll his cheek into his shoulder. 4:36am, Janik lifts his head. Hvitserk shushes him, turning his face down to Thora’s chest in what was her favourite white jammies, like a princess, his once was princess. 4:38am, he sobs when her chest stills. But he keeps that pillow close-- he, has to finish. 4:41am. Hvitserk slips the pillow under his hoodie and gazes over her beautiful waving hair. A lock of her hair sticks to her lips. Hvitserk takes it with him.

On weekends, you stay with Hvitserk.

You sleep on your side, your pillow between your legs in place of where Hvitserk’s should have been. Most nights were like this. Most nights, Hvitserk worked hard at night to support his family and with a nap between two and six when he got out of school. The bed bows underneath you. You would have turned, half asleep, but find that strong arms encircle your waist. His cologne, strong and comforting. The woody undertones soothe you.

“Mmmm, Hvit…” your eyes spread, looking to your phone that you’ve forgotten on the bed. 5:51am, it reads. Hvitserk hides his head between the junction of your shoulder and neck. It’s wet. “Hvit? Are you okay?”

“Yeah babe. I’m-- I’m okay. Jus’ stay there for me. I need you.”

In a few minutes, he’s not so soundly asleep. He missed her already.

Sy’s Notes II: I hope I wrote that death scene adequately. It was hard to find information on her state and what physical reactions would come of it.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434, @smileyparrots, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @two-unbeatable-beaters, @igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok (no mix), @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @titty-teetee, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @piebytheocean, @strangunddurm, @rekdreams247, @justacrush, @ivarswonderlust, @peachesnpisces, @elenawrit, @equalstrashflavoredtrash, @roxxck, @dylanowhyyien, @ilvebeenabad, @vikingsmania, @huntingbears, @my-little-wolfe, @seize-the-droid, @moondustmemories, @colourmeinblue, @ilvebeenabad, @queenmissfit, @hallowed-heathen, @neeadinghugs, @mblaqgi, , @triumphantreturnofpies, @dmv49, @attorneyl, @iconicvaleria-blog, @lovelynerdytraveler, @tierneygonzalez, @zabee113, @meganjudee, @sdcyumyum, @ms-allenbrown, @pancake-blonde, @ivarswickedqueen, @starkiddreamer, @austenkingmylady,@pinkrockstar19, @jeowjungkook, @end-of-night, @yaminax-kuss-a , @gruffle1, @arses21434@natalie-rdr, @tempt-ress, @thevikingsheaux, @poisonedjoinery, @smokealone, @chewythecatus, @laughinglikenialler, @lefrenchfrye, @mybarnesmyhero, @vengefulflange, @imcreepininyourheartbabe, @therealmrshale, @that-goodgirl, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @athroatfullofglass, @x-valhalla @dreaming-of-never-neverland

#hvitserk x reader #hvitserk/reader #hvitserk's heathen feast #hvitserk imagine #Hvitty x reader #hvitty/reader #vikings imagines #vikings imagine #VIkings/Reader #MODERN VIKINGS #vikings x reader #tw: character death #imagines #heed warnings #the vikings

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lihikainanea · 5 years

Note

I just want a part 2 to the tummy story. When he comes to her some months later, thicc, strong, healthy with a sunkissed belly and defined v-line. But still eating to much.

Anonymous said: how would tiger react to bill putting on more weight than he expected? not a lot, of course, but to where hes softer than he was before castle rock. would she love it, and would bill be insecure about it?

I cannot BELIEVE ya’ll are just out here every day in your lives, slamming the hell out of my tummy kink button. HOW DARE YOU. This was the original tummy rubbing drabble, and honestly, I just can’t get enough. My heart skips too many beats every time I look at photos from what was the MASTERPIECE of SDCC 2018, with his tiny little double chin and his patterned shirts and his small chubs on the cheeks and that one photo where he’s rubbing/scratching his own tummy in That Way that guys do that basically makes all my lady parts cry.

BUH BYE, WORLD.

***

He pushed his chair away from the table and groaned, lifting his shirt to unbutton his pants before running his hand over his protruding gut.

“Kid, you’ve gotta stop”— he paused, a burp interrupting his sentence—“You’ve gotta stop with all this food.”

“No,” you teased, and you stood from your spot at the table, making your way to him. You climbed gingerly into his lap, looping an arm around his shoulders and brushing the curl back from his forehead as he held onto you, his other hand still rubbing his stomach. You leaned, kissing his nose.

“You come in here after a shoot, a literal bag of bones, sharp angles sticking out of you everywhere, your eyeballs looking ready to fall out of your head, and you expect me not to take drastic measures?” You accused. He rolled his eyes, rubbed at your back affectionately. Hiking his shirt up, you bit your lip in glee when he pointed to his gut, round and soft and bigger than you had ever seen it.

“That was weeks ago, tiger. I think you fixed that pretty quickly,” he grumbled, poking at his own soft spots, “I’m squishy everywhere. I hate this.”

You had to stop yourself from leaning down, nipping a mouthful of his soft stomach, gliding your hands over it and squeezing it gently. And he was right, when he walked into your apartment looking skeletal, you were distraught and afraid to even hug him because he looked so frail. You hated it. His usual hot body temperature was near freezing, he was shivering all the time, and all of his features protruded from his face. His hugs were sharp and not warm the way you were used to, his arms seemed even longer and hanging from thin shoulders, his skin had taken on a pallor you didn’t like. You were pissed.

But a few weeks with you, and he was looking much better. The colour had come back to his cheeks, the hollows filled out, and he was even starting to have a little bump under his chin, a bit of extra fat coming down from his sharp jawline. His shoulders had rounded back out, his biceps filling the sleeves of his t-shirt and the fabric no longer bunched loosely around his back—instead, pulling taught across it whenever he moved. His chest had broadened again, puffing back out, but the part you loved and missed the most—was his stomach. He had always been fit, but there would still be a small, soft patch low beneath his navel that he never got rid of. It was the part he loved having rubbed, the part where he was a little bit ticklish, and the part you loved to nip, grab at. It was gone with how thin he had gotten, but it was back now in abundance. His entire stomach, actually, was carrying more weight than you had seen on him, all soft bits and round edges. You loved it, he hated it, and as much as he loved having his tummy rubbed, every time you went for it he’d hold your hands away, tug his shirt down further. You knew he was a little self-conscious with the weight gain.

You enclosed your hand around his, where it was still rubbing idly at his gut. Intertwining your fingers, you laid a kiss on his lips and smiled down at him, scratching his head.

“I hope you saved room for dessert—” and he groaned, pained—“I made blueberry pie.”

Big, glassy eyes peered up at you, laser focused. His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip.

“Is it…is it your grandmother’s recipe?” He asked. You nodded, kissing him again and moving to get off his lap.

“Of course it is. The best one,” you ruffled his hair as he leaned his head back on the chair, groaning in agony.

You took mild pity on him, cutting him a smaller piece and dolloping ice cream on it, sitting back on his lap as he eyed it wearily and locked both of his arms around you.

“We can share it,” you said, and you laughed as he opened his mouth wide for a bite. Humouring him, you scooped some onto a spoon and popped in in his mouth as his eyes closed. He groaned, happily.

“Fucking phenomenal,” he said as he licked his lips, keeping his eyes closed but opening his mouth for another bite. You couldn’t resist, instead covering his mouth with yours for a solid kiss as he let out a surprised squeak. He smirked when you pulled away, his eyes still closed.

“That tastes even better than the blueberry pie,” he mumbled. It earned him another kiss, and you couldn’t help your gaze from falling to his waist, to where his pants were still unbuttoned, his shirt pulled tightly over the small bulge of his distended gut. You reached for it, a gentle hand just barely placed on it before he swooped in and laced his fingers with yours, placing your intertwined hands on your thigh instead.

Determined—because it really was beautiful, and for as much as Bill loved having his tummy rubbed, you had developed quite an affinity for rubbing it as well—you tried again as he was getting ready for bed. He was sleepy, his eyes starting to close by themselves as he went through his night time routine. Changing into lounge pants and a long sleeved shirt—his body temperature still hadn’t quite come back to normal—you bit your lip at how snug the shirt was on him. It hugged his chest, but it hugged his stomach even more—a bump protruding and clearly visible right above the line of his pants.

You spoke, before he caught you ogling in the doorway.

“Bill,” you said, and he jumped a little at your voice. Looking at you, he moved the toothbrush slowly in his mouth.

“Mmph?” Was his response.

You licked your lips and stared at his abdomen. He eyed you wearily.

“I want to rub the belly.”

The toothbrush stopped moving. He quirked a brow at you.

“What?” And his words were warbled by toothpaste. He spat it out in the sink, rinsing his mouth as you advanced on him.

“Show me.”

“You’re insane.”

You took another predatory step towards him, but he didn’t move.

“Show. Me. The belly.”

His eyes widened and you kept your movements slow, but he made no effort to stop you. Standing behind him, you looped your arms around his waist, leaning your head on his back, and placing both palms gently on his stomach. You squeezed softly and you both groaned.

“Tiger, no,” he whimpered, but he didn’t try to stay your movements.

“Tiger yes,” you said. Lifting his shirt, you glided your hands underneath and placed them flat on his lower belly, kneading softly. He drew in a deep breath through his nose.

“Stop,” he whined, “I’m not….I’m not ready.”

You moaned, pressing your lips to his back and squeezing low on his belly. He practically purred.

“Pats, too,” he requested, and you hid your smirk in his back. Letting one hand go, you patted softly all over his stomach while the other one kept kneading lightly. He sighed, completely content.

“I want to lie down for this,” he murmured, and catching a glimpse of him in the mirror you saw his eyes closed, his head tilted slightly back. His hands were braced on the sink, supporting his weight. You smiled, giving his pudge a bit of an extra squeeze. You patted him softly.

“Come on, let’s get you comfy then.”

You grabbed his hand and led him to your room, getting him to stretch out on his side on the bed. Stealing a kiss, you settled midway down his back and looped your hands around his waist. You slung your legs over him however you could manage, his long body surpassing yours. Placing your hands on his belly, you started rubbing again, humming happily into his back as he sighed.

“I need to lose all this pudge,” he mumbled, and you nipped playfully at his back.

“Don’t you dare,” you said as you gave him a few pats, “I love the belly.”

#Leilani answers #BFF!Bill #BFF!Bill HC #BFF!Bill headcanon #ALL THE TUMMY RUBS #FOREVER #SHOW ME #THE BELLY

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greatgreengremlin · 5 years

Note

can you put your bag things bingo fills on tumblr? it would probably be easier for requesters to see and the mods to keep track of. and, i just want to reblog your fem!hance, cause that was cute.

Actually I meant to do that, I just forgot. Oops.

Sure I can!

(VLD) Space: Anger Born of Worry

AO3

Something Lana will never tell anyone is that during their first meeting, Huihana scared the crap out of her. Only for the first thirty seconds or so, sure, but in those thirty seconds the fear was real. She took two steps into the room the Garrison assigned her, took one look at her roommate, and felt her blood turn to ice.

That chick was freaking huge. Biceps like boulders, fists like frozen turkeys. She could probably take Lana’s head off with one punch. Nervously, Lana gulped, trying to think of something suave to say, straining to shape her mouth into a confident smirk so this Amazonian stranger wouldn’t smell her fear. Then the giantess advanced and before Lana could escape, those brawny arms encircled her, deftly lifted her right off the floor…and pulled her into a hug.

“Mmph!” Lana found herself pressed up against the soft, plentiful pudge of her roommate’s round midsection, and her face smushed into the pillows of her even softer, coconut sized breasts.

“Nice to meet you, new roomie!” chirped a voice of pure sunshine.

She gave Lana a hearty squeeze and returned her to the floor.

“So I’m Huihana, most people call me Hana for short,” she paused, amusement squiggling over her features as she blinked at Lana’s name tag. “Guess that means we’re Hana and Lana, huh? Pfft, Hana and Lana. We could totally headline a sitcom.”

“Heh, yeah.” Lana gave a chuckle, feeling herself melt in relief.

“I’ll help you put away your stuff, but let’s eat the muffins first. They’re best while they’re still warm.”

“You made muffins?”

“Uh-huh.”

Hana showed her the small oven she’d hidden in the closet. It was about the size of one of those toy ones, but Lana could tell it was made of spare parts. The metals didn’t match and the screws were different sizes.

“Let me guess, you’re here to be an engineer.”

“Yep.” Hana smiled and pulled a small muffin pan out of her makeshift oven and if the tantalizing aroma of apple cinnamon was anything to go by, mismatched metal didn’t prevent it from working.

Lana took a muffin and shook her head. Hana was a freaking teddy bear. No hecking way could she ever scare Lana again.

“You’re supposed to be in bed,” Lana scolds, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hana rolls her eyes and keeps rolling the orange dough in front of her. “As if you always do what you’re supposed to do.”

“This isn’t about me!” Lana barks, still too shaken to keep herself from snapping. “You’re a mess, you can hardly stand up!”

Hana shoots her a look that might’ve been dangerous if she were actually standing steady. But she isn’t steady at all, she’s tottering like a butterfly could knock her over and Lana isn’t sure if it’s making her nervous or furious.

“What I am is sore and stressed, and not in the mood,” she warns irritably.

“Oh, you’re not in the mood?” Lana scoffs. “Don’t even. I’m the one who gets to be mad! You almost got yourself killed!”

“We almost get ourselves killed all the time,” Hana grumbles bitterly, flipping the dough and rolling some more.

“This was different! You know we’re supposed to be extra careful since the pods got hacked, but you ran back into a Galra infested tunnel for no reason!”

“No reason my ass, I was checking for civilians.” Hana pauses to wipe the sweat from her brow.

“Civilians who weren’t there!” Lana huffs, grasping at her hair in frustration. “BLIP tech told us the tunnel was clear!”

“And like I already explained to you and everybody else, the dust storms on that planet were interfering with our tech. Our comms were screwy, our scanners were screwy, we had no reason to trust in the BLIP tech!” Hana gives the dough an exasperated whack with the rolling pin and Lana can see the immediate regret in her eyes as the movement sends repercussions through her battered body. Recoiling, she hisses through her teeth.

“Damn it! Ugh, just come off it. I clearly did the right thing.”

“How? No one was down there!”“But someone could’ve been down there,” Hana insists hotly. “We couldn’t rely on the tech to tell us one way or the other, so I checked for myself. It’s what a paladin would do.”

Lana chews her lip. She understands where her friend is coming from, but she doesn’t have any forthcoming fuzzy feelings for her decision either. It was too reckless. Lana doesn’t like to see any of her team in danger, but this was the kind of stunt she would at least expect from Keith or Shiro. Not Hana. It was a stunt that blindsided her coming from cautious, nervous Huihana.

“You should have at least called one of us for backup.”

And what she means is, you should have called me for backup.

“I didn’t think I had enough time.” Hana gripes, maneuvering her way around the kitchen. “It’s over and done with, so just lay off.”

Lana feels the worst of her fury dying away, but she still isn’t happy. This was too much, too close a call. She can’t just swallow it with a smile and pretend she wasn’t terrified to her core. Not with the echoes of Hana’s scream still rattling around like vengeful wraiths inside her head.

“Oh crap…I’m bleeding,” Hana mutters, yanking Lana out of her thoughts.

The red stain spreads through her robe and Lana gasps, scrambling over.

“Don’t want to say I told you so, but this is exactly why you should be in bed,” she says tersely, hiking Hana’s arm over her shoulder.

Hana is still the bigger of the two, but Lana is tougher than she looks and more than strong enough to offer her support. Hana accepts it wearily, and Lana becomes increasingly worried when she fails to fire back some retort. Lana studies her more closely and frowns.

Drops of sweat sprinkle Hana’s face, headband practically drenched with it. The pain is naked in her eyes, glistening with the mist of unshed tears. Her jaw tightens, teeth clenching as she fails to bite back a whine.

“Come on,” Lana encourages. “Just a little farther.”

“A little?” Hana shoots her an exhausted look. “The med bay’s on the other side of the castle.”

“But your room is right around the corner, and Coran helped me stock it with all the right aftercare supplies while you were out being a bad patient.”

“I wasn’t trying to be a bad patient,” she mumbles. “Today just caught up with me and sitting still in silence wasn’t exactly doing wonders for my anxiety.”

“Yeah, well you bleeding through your clothes isn’t exactly doing wonders for my mental health, either,” Lana retorts.

Hana must be too spent to keep arguing because all she does is glower.

When they reach her bedroom, Lana parks her down on the bed and slides the robe off her shoulders. The bandages encasing her torso are soaked scarlet and it sends chills up Lana’s spine. Even so, she tries to keep herself together. She opens the impressive supply kit Coran prepared and paws through until she finds the sutures.

“So you’re gonna patch me up even though you’re pissed?”

“Of course I am, jerk face.”

Lana gets the packet of numbing gel and the scissors, kneels down, eye level with the wound. She snips through the layers of gauze and they fall loosely to the bed. A wide absorbent pad remains, taped over her side. It’s sodden with blood that smears onto Lana’s fingertips as she removes it as gently as possibly.

What lurks beneath is like something out of a slasher flick. Lana is a tad nervous about tending to it because it’s such a gruesome injury, but she doesn’t want to admit that aloud. The blast from the sentry’s gun shaved off a good hunk of flesh. The aperture of the wound is irritated where Coran had to trim away ruined skin. The layer of fat beneath the remaining skin peeks out a bit, bumpy and glazed in blood. The open meat in the middle is this sickening, moist, melon pink.

“Congratulations,” Lana offers sarcastically. “You managed to pop all of your stitches.”

Hana grimaces. “I don’t wanna know the graphic details.”

“No,” she agrees grimly. “You don’t.”

Lana pinches the tip of the scissors over the broken thread of the old stitches and carefully pulls them through. Hana’s fist clenches into the blankets, a tight look of discomfort twisting her features.

Some of Lana’s frustration ebbs.

“This is the worst part and it’s almost over, okay?”

Hana nods tensely.

Lana removes the long, thin thread and discards it. She opens the numbing gel and carefully spreads it along the in tact skin around the wound.

“I’m sorry, okay?” she says softly. “I know I shouldn’t be mad at you, you did what you felt was right—“

“You mean what was right,” Hana breaks in stubbornly.

“…I thought you died,” Lana admits somberly.

“What?” Hana’s jaw drops.

Lana purses her lips as she opens the suture set. “It was the way you screamed. You’re super jumpy, so I’ve heard you scream a thousand times before, but never like that. That scream chilled me to the bone, I could just hear the hurt in it…and then when we started screaming back for you to answer, you didn’t. We— I was begging you to answer me but all I got was radio silence.”

“I scared you,” Hana concludes quietly.

“Yeah.” Lana huffs, poking the needle into the flesh. Evidently the gel is doing its job, because her friend doesn’t even flinch. “Scared me more than anything else ever has. You’re in front of me right now in one piece, talking to me, and I’m still kinda shook up over it.”

“Aw, Lana…”

Lana sews quietly, occasionally glancing up to make sure Hana’s tolerating it okay. She’s fiddling with her fingers, gaze pointedly fixed on the wall.

“Look, I’m sorry. Not for what I did, but for scaring you.”

“I don’t really blame you,” Lana says, finishing off the stitches. “This is war, we get hurt. But can you at least be a good patient for the rest of the day?”

“I will if you stick around to distract me.”

“I’m supposed to let you rest,” Lana mutters, distracted as she fishes through the supplies.

Hana groans quietly and shakes her head. “I can’t. You don’t think I got scared too? It’s so quiet in here, all I can do is relive getting blasted. It’s freaking me out.”

She takes another absorbent pad and thick roll of gauze, wincing sympathetically. “Alright. I’ll stay. Maybe I can get Pidge to bring us a projector so we can watch a movie or something.”

Hana lets out a sigh of relief. Lana returns to her bedside and strips the sterile packaging off the pad. She plasters it over the freshly stitched wound and gingerly pats it down. Hana gives a wince and she stops short.

“Too rough?”

“Nah. The gel wore off, that’s all. It’s sore.”

“I’ll bet.” It’s a hell of a wound, after all. Wide, deep, and butt ugly.

Lana unwinds a length of gauze and makes an effort to be especially gentle as she bandages her, starting from the bottom and moving upward. She smooths out as many of the wrinkles as she can and tries to secure the gauze around Hana’s torso without pulling too tight.

“Alright, almost there. Just hold your tits.”

“Huh? I’m not rushing you.” Hana puzzles, brow furrowing.

“I meant literally, my busty bestie,” Lana chuckles. “They’re in the way.”

“My bad.” Grimacing, Hana sheepishly hefts them up and Lana wraps the last layer around. She finishes up with small adhesive strips to keep the bandage in place and gives it the slightest of tugs to make sure they’re effective.

“All done,” she says brightly, pulling back. “That should keep it clean and safe. Just try not to bump into anything and don’t abuse the rolling pin anymore.”

“Thanks. I’d hug you if I could.” Hana sighs and slides her arms back into the sleeves of her robe. She raises her shoulders to get it all the way on— at least, she attempts to. Pain crosses her face halfway through the motion and the fabric slides back down.

“And I can’t do that either.”

She tucks her head down like a grumpy turtle sulking in its shell. Lana wordlessly pulls the garment up for her.

“Gonna do everything for me?” Hana lifts a tired brow.

“If I have to,” Lana says, crossing her arms. “As long as you promise not to scare me like that again.”

“If it were a promise I could keep, I would,” she says wistfully.

They gaze at each other a moment, an understanding passed. Lana deflates and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, leaning forward to pull back Hana’s blanket.

“Go on, climb in.”

“Could’ve done that much myself,” Hana mutters, sounding more weary than offended.

Lana studies her as she draws herself up, stiffly braced back on her elbows. Pain speaks in every movement, from her legs’ halting stretch, to the low breath hissed between her teeth as she carefully reclines to the pillows. Lana lightly drapes the blanket over her.

“Lemme get you something for the pain—“ Lana turns to go and stops short as Hana’s hand encircles hers.

She tugs with surprising strength for somebody who looks two seconds away from passing out, and Lana’s eyes pop wide as she gracelessly flounders to the bed.

Lacing their fingers together, Hana gives her a tender look. “This is enough. I feel better already.”

“Liar,” Lana huffs, crinkling her nose.

“No, really. Holding hands has the potential to reduce pain. Several studies suggest it produces an analgesic effect.”

Lana pauses, studying her face for any trace of deceit. Normally having genius friends is pretty cool because they can explain complicated stuff to you and help you ace your homework. But sometimes genius friends can mess with you by rewording bullshit to sound all science-y and smart. One time Hana and Pidge nearly convinced her that the moon was indeed made of some form of petrified cheese.

“For real?”

“Yeah, for real,” Hana insists, smiling gently. “When we hold hands our brainwaves begin to synchronize. It’s like communicating empathy through touch and it makes people feel better.”

“Huh.” Lana looks down at their hands and squeezes Hana’s a little tighter.

With Hana’s hand in hers, solid and warm, Lana is beginning to feel better too.

#bad things happen bingo #badthingshappenbingo #hunk vld #lance vld #platonic hance #i mean i don't touch shipping in the vld fandom no thank you #not even in genderbend aus #blood tw #injury tw

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i-like-the-biggins · 5 years

Text

Dunkmaster Darius x Reader (Weight Gain) Part 1

“Slow down there, big guy,” you said to your hulking teammate, with a teasing grin.

Darius paused from scarfing down an entire pizza to look at you with a scowl on his face that would have sent a chill down your spine, except for the fact that he had food stuffed in his cheeks, resembling a chipmunk.

It’d been a just a few months since you joined the college basketball team, and you’d become fast friends with everyone there, much to your surprise. The “big and scary elite basketball team” was just a group of kids trying to have fun with their friends. Half-convinced by your old friend Darius, dunkmaster star of the court, to join. The other part that won you over was the prospect of being around a bunch of hunky guys all Winter, and here you are! A victory meal after your teams first winning match of the season!

You sat next to your black-haired friend as he monstrously devoured any food that was placed in front of him, even going so far as to ask you “are you gonna finish that?” He clearly wasn’t a slow eater either, seeing as he would down a burger in 3 bites, eat fries by the fist full and devour pizza slices like it was breathing. His stomach capacity was astounding!

Turning your head to look at your friend, you could see a sort of bump coming from the middle of his usually loose shirt though.

“You’ll get fat if you keep eatin’ like that Dar!” said one of your hunky teammates.

While the star athlete was stunned by the first comment, the guy sitting on the other side of him pulled up his jersey and poked at his distended gut.

“He’s already on the way to becomin’ a lardass! Look at this chub!” the guy teased.

It was true though, his firm pecs seemed a bit more pillowy and his middle was far too swollen to be from just tonights meal.

Humiliated, Darius’ face began to grow red with embarrassment, and as always followed ever since he was a kid, rage came soon after. But before he got the chance to explode, you decided it would be best to interfere, for everybody’s sake.

“It’s all a part of the bulk guys, he’ll shred that fat and come back with muscles bigger than all of yours! All part of the plan, right Darius?”

“R-right,” he bashfully spat out in a low tone, looking down and pulling his shirt back over his torso.

The team hadn’t seemed completely satisfied with that answer, but took it anyway, not caring enough to press the issue.

Darius hadn’t touched his food even once after that.

Dinner had ended and Darius offered you a ride home, like always, and you gladly accepted, like always.

The ride home would occasionally be quiet, when not filled with reminiscing of your childhood memories or bragging over ‘did you see what I did during practice!?’ and even just general conversation of how your days went, but this was on another level.

“You don’t think I’m getting fat, do you?” he said abruptly with one hand on the wheel, the other rubbing his rounded gut.

You thought back to how he looked when your teammate lifted up his shirt. It’s a good thing all the focus was on him or else somebody might’ve seen how hungry your eyes looked as you stared at Darius’ bloated belly. He looked so hot.

“Well.. you seem a bit softer in the middle and around your chest, but what’s wrong with a little pudge as long as it doesn’t slow you down, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” he said, looking dejected and a little angry.

“We can go to the gym more together if you’d like! I’ll make sure you turn that stuff into muscle, just like I said I would,” you suggested speedily.

A slight smile formed on his smooth lips with those words.

“I’ll be holding you to that. You’re in charge of makin’ sure I lose this extra weight!” he said, loudly patting his stomach.

“For sure!” you said, laughing with him.

After that conversational hurdle, you changed the topic to the winning match today and, soon enough, what happened tonight felt like a thing of the past and you two chatted away like the good friends you were.

. . .

You said you’d go with him to the gym more and damn were you serious, even if you kind of wanted to sabotage his weight loss. By giving him an intense workout routine, much to your displeasure, his slight chub was gone within a few weeks and Darius had looked beefier than ever, weighing in at around 300 pounds of true strength. The once pudgy belly gave way to well-defined abs, and his softer chest became broad, beefy pecs. His biceps had grown huge in circumference, along with his thighs and calves; it didn't matter if he was fat or muscular, he was hot either way.

The team quickly took back any teasing comments they had, and began to consider bulking up for themselves if it would make them as big and sexy as Darius began to look. He wouldn’t shut up about how huge he got either at first, boasting to ally and enemy about how he could “crush them so easily” with his arousing strength. And so, he resumed life as the best, player on the school’s basketball team, and the best looking one as well, for the rest of the season.

Yet, the days of the season had gone by just like that and the Spring semester drew your first year of college to an end. You and Darius had no classes together, so it was hard for you to stay in touch. Both of you would at least send a few texts every now and then when the basketball season first ended, suggesting you hang out or go to the gym together, but Darius had always been busy working his new part time job, and eventually you two grew distant.

You hadn’t ever forgotten about him though. Memories of how cute he looked when he would get angry, how kind he was when he was alone with you...or how embarrassed he got with that bit of pudge on him...You could never forget how irresistible he looked then. When working out with him it took an unbelievable amount of mental fortitude to resist touching his body with those burly muscles, even more when he had that cute belly.

Oh well though, it’s not like he’s got one anymore!

...Right?

#bhm #belly #male weight gain #weight gain #darius #league of legends #chubby #fat

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sincerlyyme-blog · 7 years

Text

Knots (Evan Hansen x Reader)

TW: SMUT, a lil bit of swearing, really fricken smutty

Words: 1,675

Requested: anon: Hi!!! Loooooove your fics so so so much! Like I know you've only posted a few fics but seriously you're like the best DEH writer on here! Could I please request number 28 with Evan - maybe he gives the reader a massage and then it gets smutty because Evan gets turned on by the noises she makes?

Disclaimer: I’m sorry that I’ve been writing a lot of smut, lately. It’s just what is mostly requested! I will be writing fluff very soon. <3

You’ve always been called an old soul. Whether it was when you were caught drinking tea, reading classic novels, or even giving wise advice; that was the first thing anyone said about you. Sometimes it seemed like your brain was 70 years older than the rest of your body. The only physical part of yourself that synced up with your thoughts was your back.

Your back felt like it could have been old enough to have experienced the Cold War. Every twist, turn, and bend would send thousands of cracks down your spine. Sometimes kinks would appear out of the dust. The worst pain would come when you would sit with no support for a long period of time.

It was Friday night, and you were at your boyfriend’s house. His mom wasn’t home, and was not going to be until the end of the night. Your boyfriend, Evan, was trying to help you study for your philosophy test. After the first or second hour of sitting on his bed, you felt a familiar pain in your lower back. After the twelfth question answered from your textbook, you felt your shoulders begin to lock. As Evan read another question, you tried to twist your joints in order to feel some relief.

Evan didn’t notice until he looked at you. Your face was cursed with discomfort. He looked at you with sympathy.

“A-Are you alright?”

“Yeah… it’s just my back,” you sighed, still attempting to crack something for a quick relief.

Evan nodded softly, thinking to himself. He watched you as you squirmed around, placing your hands all over your own back; pressing and massaging it yourself.

“When I was little, I-I had really bad growing pains. So, uh, my mom would massage my legs with cream. W-Would that help?” he asked nervously, biting onto his bottom lip.

Your eyes grew wide, “wait are you offering me a massage?”

“W-Well, yeah, I-I have had a lot of practice?”

“Evan, you are my HERO!” you exclaimed, throwing your head back. “I don’t remember a time where my spine wasn’t in pain.”

“I’ll go get some cream, and uh, you can, uh, get yourself ready?” he spoke nervously, walking quickly out of the room, biting his nails.

You set your books on the floor, tucking your loose papers into your bookbag. Laying on Evan’s bed, you put your head on his pillow. Evan soon came back into his room, shutting the door.

“Oh, um, you’re gonna need to take your shirt off. Only if you want to- it’s ok if you don’t-“

You laughed, shaking your head. “Evan, it’s okay.” You sat up, taking off the sweater you had been wearing. Well, really, it was Evan’s sweater. You had stolen it months ago. You had been meaning to give it back, as it didn’t hold the scent that it used to.

Evan turned around to give you privacy as you stripped down. While you were at it, you took your bra off so it wouldn’t be in the way. You laid back down on his bed, burying your face into the mattress.

“Ok, Ev, I’m ready,” you spoke, muffled into the pillow.

You heard Evan’s sock feet patter over to you. He climbed onto his double bed and straddled your bum. He was a bit shaky, but focused. He put a dollop of body cream onto his hands, and started to work on your shoulders. He gasped when he could feel the intense knots.

“D-Doesn’t this hurt?” he asked, in disbelief.

“Yeah,” you groaned out. “But, like, the good hurt.”

“T-Tell me if it hurts too much, okay?”

You nodded, focusing on the feeling of his hands working on your back. You tried to picture it in your head. His long, bony fingers applying pressure to your soft skin as he straddled you. You giggled at the thought. Just last month, you two had sex for the first time. No matter what the circumstance was, Evan always made sure that you were at maximum comfort.

Evan’s fingers dug into the painful areas of your spine. You winced, biting the insides of your cheek. As his fingertips continued the same motion, it started to feel the slightest bit better. His fingertip pushed into the knot in a circular motion. After he had gotten it out, he would palm the area to soothe it. Every time he would, a small sigh or whimper would escape from your lips.

After Evan got the biggest knot out, he palmed it with the flats of his hands. The feeling was so relieving that you let out a moan.

Evan gulped, staring down at you. You were bare, moaning, and underneath him. The last time that happened was a month ago. Your string of moans were like a symphony to him.

Whenever you couldn’t make it over to his house, to relieve his stress, Evan would have to do it on his own. He was never comfortable with touching himself until you taught him how. On his nights alone, he thought of your moans to bring him to the edge. Of course, he never told you that.

You continued to whither underneath his touch. Every sigh and sound that escaped your body, made it harder for Evan to focus. He felt the tent in his khakis begin to form. He tried to lift his torso off of you in an attempt to hide it. But it didn’t do anything, when he watched as the silhouette of your naked body lifted to follow his touch.

He jumped off of you, grabbing your sweatshirt from his bedroom floor. He held it in front of his crotch.

You looked up from your pillow, pouting in confusion. When you looked at your boyfriend, his cheeks were red and blotchy. His fists clenching the sweater as if his life depended on it

“D-Did you hear the phone ring? I, uh, I think I heard the phone ring,” he stammered, about to run out of the room. You sat up, stopping him.

“Ev, are you...” you began to catch on.

“I, um, yeah,” he gritted his teeth in embarrassment. His eyes darted down to your breasts, that were now on full display. He swallowed hard.

You stood up, crossing your arms over your chest to cover yourself.

“Do you want some...help?” you looked up into his eyes, searching for any sign of interest.

“I, uh, um,” he stammered, getting even more embarrassed.

“It’s ok, Ev,” you smiled softly, and reassuringly. “This isn’t a new thing to us. And it’s okay that you feel this way. It’s normal,” you tried to comfort him, placing one of your hands on his arm.

Evan nodded, slowly lowering the sweater that he held to the ground. You removed your arms from your chest, placing your hands on his face, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. You pulled his body against yours, feeling his excitement press against your stomach.

Taking an initiative, you lowered your hand down to his crotch. You set your hand down where he needed you the most, applying pressure. You watched his face as you palmed him through the material of his pants. His eyes fluttered closed. His mouth opened agape as if he was going to say something. He let out a throaty moan. You felt his hands get tangled into your hair, pulling from the new sensation.

Slowly, you removed your hand from his length. You began to take off his shirt, then removed the khaki coloured pant than caged him. He did the same, removing your leggings, staring at you in wonder.

“What?” you smiled, looking into his eyes.

“It’s just that- I don’t know, I-I never thought that I would ever get a girlfriend... let alone being doing this,” he giggled softly, his face turning a soft shade of pink.

“Me neither,” you admitted, letting out a tiny laugh.

You guided Evan back to his bed, laying him down. You straddled him, placing his hands gingerly on your waist. He watched you through hooded eyelids, taking in every second of your presence. Reaching down to his chest, your trailed your fingertips all the way down to the hem of his underwear. He was beautiful. You loved his physique. The tiny outlines of his ribs, the small freckles on his biceps, and the tiny bit of pudge beneath his belly button.

Using your right hand, you pulled down his boxers, revealing the rest of your boyfriend. He sucked in a deep breath, watching you intently. With your left hand, you stretched to the drawer of his bedside table. Opening it, you grabbed a condom.

“Take them off,” you whispered to your boyfriend, referring to the last bit of material you were wearing.

He nodded quickly, lowering the silk article, mesmerized by the parts of you that only he would see. You opened the condom, rolling it on to his length.

“A-Are you sure you want to do it like this?” Evan asked, referring to you being on top.

“I-I want to try it out,” you admitted sheepishly. Evan smiled shyly, giving you a nod to go further.

You sunk onto him, letting out a gasp. Evan’s eyes rolled back, his mouth falling wide open.

“Oh my god,” he spoke loudly.

You started to move in rhythm. Gliding your hips in a circle, you placed your hands on his chest to stabilize yourself. Evan bucked his hips to meet yours. Sweat collected on his forehead, as he watched you.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he chanted over and over, clearly making his way to his orgasm.

You felt a familiar feeling at the bottom of your stomach. You began to move faster, watching Evan barely holding it together. You told him to wait for a few seconds more. Your moans matched his, your final breaths only lasting seconds. You both reached and came down from your high in unison.

Climbing off of him, you smiled, out of breath.

“I think my back feels better.”

#dear evan hansen x reader #dear Evan Hansen imagine #evan hansen #evan hansen x reader #evan hansen imagine #evan hansen smut #connor murphy #connor murphy x reader #jared kleinman #jared kleinman x reader #Zoe Murphy imagine #Zoe Murphy x reader

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