#but at least he let me go immediately after
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Mote in your brother's eye (dp x dc)
Danyal Al Ghul was born part of a set. Twins were a blessing he’d heard people say, but Mother’s face said otherwise. And Danyal had started seeing why when he turned four. When their instructors started praising one over the other, favouring, comparing one against the other.
It hadn’t stopped there. As they grew, it seemed everyone had decided one twin was superior to the other and though Danyal knew it wasn’t true, and he knew it wasn’t fair, it seemed nobody cared. Damian and him tried, they really did, but there was nothing to do about it and the Twins turned into the Heir and the Spare.
And when one night, Mother’s spymaster came to report that Ra’s was looking for the spare, Danyal knew it was over. Mother was a flurry of controlled movement, and his own mind was whirling at breakneck speeds, but Damian was calm. And that broke Danyal’s heart.
"Put this on," Mother said, handing them identical robes. Danyal and Damian were always given different sets of clothes, to make them easily distinguishable. It seemed Mother was banking on their identical features for additional protection.
Danyal put it on, and Damian followed, albeit more slowly.
"Grandfather is only looking for one of us,". his twin said calmly.
"Damian," Mother said warningly.
"Mother, there is no choice, we hav-"
"I will not hear of it," she interrupted Damian ferociously. "Now, follow me."
Dayal looked to his twin’s hard features and pale face and his eyes began to burn. It wasn’t fair.
They followed after their mother’s, silent footsteps in the high hallways.
"We will not make it out," Damian said quietly to himself, "not like this."
Danyal took a deep, steadying breath, painfully aware his twin was right.
"Damian," he started and his twin turned to him to raise an imperious eyebrow. "Damian, I’m sorry."
His twin scoffed and turned away, hurrying towards their mother who was opening up a corner of the wall, which she had told them held a passageway leading to the outside of the compound.
"Quick," Mother said and gestured towards the hole in the wall.
Damian went in first, looking like he wanted to grumble but was too well-trained to do so.
Once he had disappeared into the darkness, Mother looked over at Danyal. But he did not move.
"Danyal," she started.
"Mother," he said and stared back and he saw the understanding in her eyes. Her eyes flashed.
"I will go," she said.
"You cannot."
"Danyal-"
"There is no time to argue," he said. "Grandfather is not a patient man."
She held his gaze for a second longer, before her shoulder lowered. She reached for Danyal’s nape and brought him in close to kiss his forehead.
"Be quick, dearest," she said as she stroked his hair. "Make me proud."
"I will," Danyal promised. He gave her a fragile smile. "Tell Damian I love him.’
"I will," she swore and then she was gone.
As Danyal walked towards his Grandfather’s quarters, there were people stepping out of his way in the halls. The boy ignored the stares as he fixed his eyes into the distance, his chin up and proud.
He arrived in front of his Grandfather’s intricately ornamented doors much sooner than he would’ve hoped and was let in immediately.
Grandfather was standing, his back to the door, standing in front of a desk.
"I had begun to believe you would not show, child" Grandfather said.
Danyal bowed his head deferential and did not answer.
"You are not a coward at the very least," the man said as he turned back, his piercing stare settling on Danyal. The latter had to stifle the urge to flinch.
Grandfather then turned back towards the table to grab a dagger off the desk and at this, Danyal stepped back, his own hand going to his knife.
The man smirked, seemingly amused. "Do you believe I will kill you?"
His hand still over his knife, Danyal shrugged carefully. "I do not know what to believe."
Grandfather let out a chuckle and then he moved and Danyal reacted, his hand going for his knife and in the same movement towards Grandfather’s neck when he was stopped dead by his grandfather’s dagger in his gut.
A pained grunt escaped him and he struggled to stay to his feet, but he was already unbalanced from the attack and he crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain as the dagger buried itself deeper.
"What a waste," Grandfather’s voice cut through the haze of pain. "You were a disappointment to the end, Damian."
"Get him out of my sight," was the last Danyal heard of it before he was lost to oblivion.
#dc x dp#dp x dc#twins au#despite them being pitted against each other they love each other#Danny Fenton#danyal al ghul#Damian Wayne#damian al ghul#roxpox#roxpoxwrote#Every time I write about the Al Ghul family I feel like it always ends up giving shakespearian family tragedy/Hamlet vibes#These bitches be so dramatic
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give him six | trevor zegras
warnings: extreme domination. EXTREME domination. daddy kink because i do what i want. edging. spanking. cockwarming. at the same time. don’t worry about it. i do what i want. HINTS of anal play but they don’t actually do it. derogatory language (name calling…). crying during sex. sorry! spit kink. had to be done. subspace! ugh need a man to put me in that BAD bad
pairing: trevor zegras x fem!reader
summary/request: “thinking about trevor zegras needing to fuck his gf roughly after a tough game to let out his frustration bc i can sooooo see him being into that. but he’d always be looking out for u too, saying to tell him if it hurts and checking in to ask if she’s ok, but as soon as she assures him she is he’s just going absolutely nuts not holding back 🫠”
wc: 4109
You don’t have to look at Trevor to see how angry he is. He lost a few weeks of hockey due to his broken ankle and now he was back– but he couldn’t make a fucking goal in a shootout to get the win for his team? The worst part was that his shot was denied not by the goalie, but by the post. By the fucking post.
Trevor loves to flaunt his accuracy in the backyard, in the practice rink, even when tossing trash into the garbage bin, but the one time he doesn’t mean to hit the post, the puck does? It’s idiocracy. It’s humiliating. He’s better than this. He knows it, you know it, the whole world knows it. But St. Louis got to celebrate tonight, and maybe if he hadn’t hit the damn post, then he’d be celebrating with his teammates instead of stewing in your bed.
His arms are crossed over his chest and the TV isn’t even on– you join him and want to laugh at the image of your pouty boyfriend wallowing in silence. You climb under the covers with Trevor.
“You did really well, Trev,” you compliment, settling into the mattress.
“We should’ve won,” he replies.
You sigh. “You can’t win them all.”
Trevor scoffs. “Yeah, well, we could’ve won this one,” he snaps.
You stare at him for a moment while his tone really sets in. “You don’t have to talk to me like that,” you say, your voice growing cold. “I wasn’t out on the ice with you.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He, at least, sounds the part. He covers his face with his hands, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “I just– I’m so mad.”
You take a deep breath. You don’t have to be at work until 9 and it’s about five minutes away if you leave on time. You have to do the laundry tomorrow afternoon anyway. Trevor would feel better if you did this. You really wanted to sleep after the game tonight, but it would be a lie if you said you didn’t want to make him feel better. Another deep breath.
“Why don’t you take it out on me?” You ask.
Trevor looks over at you, surprise written all over his features. “Really?” He asks, like a child who was just told that he could have another candy before bed. “Like last time?”
Last time. You practically start salivating, thinking about how Trevor brought you to the edge and ripped you away from the cliff time after time, until you were sobbing and screaming and begging for a release.
“Yeah, like last time,” you agree, already a little absent. Trevor notices, of course he does, he’s more in tune with your body than you are at this rate.
A smile tugs on the corner of Trevor’s lips, but he ignores it.
“Hands and knees,” Trevor says. “Right in front of me.”
You position yourself accordingly.
Trevor smooths a hand over your behind, your shirt riding up and exposing your skin due to the position you’re in. You hadn’t worn anything else to bed– why would you? You and Trevor had been together for ages and you weren’t exactly new to his… post-loss coping mechanisms.
“Elbows,” Trevor corrects. His cock twitches when you immediately drop to your elbows, no hesitation in your movements. You’re silent, like he wants when you play like this, and you’ll do anything he says. You’re gorgeous like this, all spread out and listening to him with your head forward like a good girl, waiting for your next instruction.
You hear his voice over the thumping of your heart, although you’re not sure how. You’re always finding Trevor in the mess of everything.
“Bite the sheets,” Trevor commands, shimmying out of his boxers. You can hear him moving and you take the bedsheets in your mouth, the fabric almost immediately saturating with your saliva. “Close your eyes.” You slide your eyes shut and wait, your shaky breath filling the room and heating your face.
Something warm probes at your entrance and for a moment, you can’t tell if it’s Trevor’s fingers or his cock. The answer comes to you via a sharp spank on your left cheek, with Trevor’s left hand. He always fingers you with his left hand so that he can keep his right around your neck– the hand that’s currently kneading your other cheek.
He pushes his cock into you slowly, the movement more like he’s pulling you back than pushing you forward.
“Six shots,” Trevor muses, watching his cock disappear into you. “Six shots, and I didn’t make one.”
You bite back the reassurance, swallowing it. Trevor doesn’t want to hear it.
“Do you know how that feels?”
You don’t answer. He still doesn’t want to hear it.
“I’ll show you,” Trevor promises, his voice deceptively soft. His hand rests against your skin, heavy and present.
You get lost in the feeling easily, your mouth full of the comforter and your fingers twisted in the top sheet. Your eyes stay closed, the red-tinged darkness grounding you.
“Yeah, I’ll show you,” he repeats, his voice darker this time. “You’re going to understand exactly what it feels like to come so close six times, just for all of that to be taken away from you.”
Your eyes open at his words and you pale. You spit the covers out and break your silence. “Six times?” You ask, incredulous. “Trev.”
“Daddy,” Trevor corrects with a spank. “Unless that’s… not what we’re doing tonight?”
You clench down on his length at the contact and the name, your eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sound of his voice. Trevor is playing with you, teasing you. His fingers are walking all over you– the small of your back, your cheeks, down your crack all the way to where he’s buried inside of you… and it’s distracting.
You find yourself nodding. “It is.”
“Good,” Trevor says. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make the second and third ones quick, okay?”
His voice is full of condescension, like he knows you’re going to lose track of everything as soon as he starts hitting you. He’s right, but that’s neither here nor there.
For as long as you’d been dating Trevor, you’d never seen him tap into the mindset that he has on the ice off the ice. However, when he’s bringing his hand down on your ass, he gets pretty damn close.
His spanks are precise and powerful. He’s leaving pink handprints all over your skin, from the fleshy parts of your ass to the top of your thighs, even a few falls over the hole that he’s not occupying. Each flash of his hand leaves your skin burning and your hips inching upwards, begging for more. All of this, and he’s still inside you– the torture of the spanking is that he isn’t moving, and you’re not supposed to.
You lose track of the count, feeling your stomach flip with each slap. What starts as stinging pain turns into aching pleasure, and the sensations aren’t lost on Trevor.
He feels you jolt each time he brings his hand down on your skin, the clench of your pussy around his cock, the pounding of your pulse from inside of you. Trevor smirks and shifts his hips forward as he brings his hand down, his hand making contact with your asshole just as his tip nudges against your g-spot.
You wail, lurching under Trevor’s watchful eye. You fuck back on his cock once, only managing the movement one measly time, before Trevor stills you with a hand and slides out of you.
“No,” you breathe out, voice muffled by your makeshift gag.
“Yes,” Trevor replies, smug. “Isn’t it frustrating?”
You glare at him, turning so he can see the look on your face.
All it does is make him laugh. “Well, now I have to really punish you, don’t I?” He asks. “I can’t have my baby making angry faces at me.”
Trevor taps your hip, wordlessly telling you to move. You resume your original position next to him, expecting Trevor to tell you to put your “pretty little hand” on his cock and jerk him until he comes all over your freshly manicured fingers.
You don’t expect him to slide under the covers and hike up your shirt until your breasts are exposed. Trevor hooks a leg around yours, his mouth exhaling warm air onto your nipple. His fingers tap at your skin, one hand on your side and the other on your mound, making its way south.
“We’re going to do four like this,” Trevor tells you. His voice is merely a whisper, crawling over in your skin and raising goosebumps in its wake. “Just like this. I’m gonna take one,” he breathes, catching your nipple between his teeth for a split second before continuing. “Right here. Gimme one, baby, just from me licking your tits. I know you can.”
He dives in, tongue first. Your jaw drops as Trevor’s eyes close, the same way you know they do when you kiss him. It’s surreal, seeing him kiss and lick over your skin the way he normally does over your lips. His eyelashes flutter, the long, dark pieces of hair stealing your train of thought.
Trevor surprises you with how quickly he brings you to the edge again. He promised that the second and third would be quick, but you didn’t know just how quick he meant.
You let out a strangled gasp and your hand flies to Trevor’s hair when he opens his eyes and lets his adoring gaze fix on your face. You pull him off your chest, heaving breaths filling your lungs.
Trevor smirks, but it never quite reaches his eyes. The same look burns you, makes you shy under his gaze. You blush and look away, one of your hands covering the redness on your cheeks.
“Good,” Trevor remarks, a mere observation. “You got close, didn’t you, baby?”
You nod, still breathing heavily.
Trevor waits, expectant. He tilts his head down and blinks.
“Yes, Daddy,” you concede. “I was close.”
“Honest girl,” Trevor praises. His fingers dance over your slit. “Love you.”
“Love you,” you parrot back to him.
Trevor rewards you by pushing one finger into your heat, pumping it in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace.
Your breath stays shaky, your eyes never leaving Trevor’s. His finger drags along your walls, petting the inside of you with its pad, and you swear you can feel the ridges of his fingerprint inside of you if you focus enough.
It’s hard to focus on that when Trevor’s got his scrutinizing eyes on yours, though.
“What finger is it?” Trevor asks.
“What?” You stammer, finally blinking and breaking the trance.
Trevor’s other hand flies up to steady your chin before you can look down and ruin his game. “Which finger–” Trevor asks, curling it inside you. “–am I fucking you with?”
Your brain stalls. It’s a no-brainer, really, you should know each of Trevor’s fingers by feel alone with how often they make their way inside of you. However, you’ve been denied two orgasms already and Trevor is close to taking a third from you with just his smug stare.
“Come on,” Trevor goads. “You know which finger this is, baby. The faster you tell me, the faster I get you to your orgasm.”
“Yeah, the faster you take it away,” you reply.
Trevor’s eyes cloud over and he jams his finger inside you, increasing his pace. “Don’t be a bitch.”
You open your mouth to retort, but Trevor twists his finger inside of you.
“Unless you want me to fuck you like one,” he teases.
You clench down on Trevor’s finger, his middle finger you realize, when he utters those words.
“You like that?” Trevor asks, unnecessarily. He can feel how you feel about it. “You like the idea of me getting my cock in you and fucking you like a damn animal? What is it, baby? Is it the primal instinct of it all or just the fact that I’m disciplining you like you’re worth less than I am?”
You moan at his words, logical responses and formed sentences too far from you to grasp.
“Tell me.” Trevor nudges your g-spot and you arch your back, your hips grinding against his finger… just for him to draw it out of you. “Not so fast. We’ve still got three more to go.”
“I was close,” you complain.
“So was I,” Trevor counters. “Hurts, doesn’t it? When things don’t work out the way you want them to?”
“Trevor!” You frown, put off by his game.
“Well, now you’ve really done it,” Trevor growls, shoving two fingers inside of you and resting his thumb on your clit. “You know better than to call me by my name.”
You’re drenched in sweat and slick, so Trevor’s movements aren’t hindered in the slightest, not even when you squeeze your thighs shut. All Trevor does is push them open, trap your thigh under his bony knee. Somehow, even though you just had your legs spread, Trevor seems to push in further and rub your clit faster, hitting every right spot in alternating movements: clit, then g-spot, clit, then g-spot again. And over and over.
You don’t warn him this time, you don’t pull away. You try not to clench down, you try not to rock your hips, you try anything that might get you real relief from a real orgasm without Trevor noticing.
But it’s also a futile effort because your boyfriend knows you that well.
He withdraws his fingers just as your legs, the traitors, begin to tremble.
“Oh, baby, you didn’t think you’d get away with that, did you?” Trevor teases.
“Please,” you beg. “Please, Daddy.”
Trevor’s eyes flash with approval and he teases your entrance again, this time with a third finger. “Don’t worry,” he coos. “We’ve only got two more. Then I’ll let you come.”
You choke on your own spit when Trevor buries his three fingers inside of you, all in one motion. He doesn’t dawdle or stall for time. He doesn’t take advantage of the situation at hand– that you were already shaking for him and a pump of his fingers would give you away to the pleasure just on the other side of your approaching peak.
No, he doesn’t pump his fingers. He just wiggles them as deep as he can get them and smirks before dropping a kiss on your lips. He lowers himself then and blows cool air on your clit, spreading your folds with his other hand so the full bundle of nerves is revealed to him. He leans in and captures it with his tongue, lightly sucking on the bundle. It’s not the most friction he’s ever given you, but it’s consistent. He builds you up on his tongue, slowly, so slowly.
And when your thighs close around his head, he stops. You’re aching for a release, tears building along your waterline. Your refractory period is shrinking with each near-orgasm, your babbles begging for Trevor to do something.
“I need it,” you beg, but the words feel more like a scream with how heavy they sit on your chest.
“Oh, I know you need it,” Trevor replies, tone mocking. “You need it so bad, you’re acting up. Talking back, not using my name, not answering my questions, trying to trick me so that you can get an orgasm. I ought to leave you like this, really show you what it’s like to be left frustrated after a disappointing performance.”
“No,” you whimper. “No, Trevor, that’s too much.”
It’s not your word, it’s not a cry of pain, but it still gives Trevor pause.
“Need me to be sweet to you?” Trevor asks, his eyes genuine and his hair wild from your wandering grasp.
You whine, arching your back. Trevor smiles fondly, but bats you away. When your back makes contact with the mattress again, Trevor’s deft fingers pinch your nipple and cause you to arch up a second time. He pushes you back down.
“Slut,” Trevor chastises. “Think you can distract me with your tits? This isn’t amateur hour, baby. I’ve still got to steal one orgasm from you.”
You blanch at that, your eyes wide. You take in every detail of his face, panting. There isn’t anything you could say that could stop him, except your word, but you’d rather curl into a ball and die than stop this right now. The words don’t come to you to tell him to continue, though.
“I’m going to get you so close,” Trevor whispers, his face close to yours. He leans down and kisses your neck. You arch into him, your once-useless hands finding his sides. You feel over the muscle there, his lean waist and strong chest. “You’re going to be right there, baby, and then I’m going to take it all away.”
“Please,” you repeat, but it’s indecipherable whether you’re begging Trevor to let you come or begging Trevor to leave you wanting more.
“Yeah,” Trevor agrees, sliding his three fingers back into your wet cunt.
You moan sharply at the intrusion, pumping deep into you this time and dragging along your walls in a torturous way. It feels so good, it has you seeing white specks when you manage to open your eyes and look at Trevor. His eyes are trained on your cunt, watching your wetness seep all over his fingers. When you push his hair out of his face, his eyes lift to meet yours.
His pupils are blown wide with lust and he’s got a snarl rumbling from deep in his chest. It is primal, you realize, the way he’s bullying his fingers into your cunt without a thought about what you can or can’t handle. He’s taking you, the way that you’ll only ever allow him to do.
“Gonna come?” Trevor asks, the evil smirk overtaking his face again.
“Please,” you beg again.
“‘Please,’” Trevor mocks. “Is that the only word you know?”
He pulses his hand, his fingers bouncing off your walls and causing you to jolt and scramble to find something to hold onto. That something ends up being Trevor’s hair and the pillow to your side. Your chest is heaving again, your nipples taut and pointed and begging to be touched.
As Trevor’s eyes trail down your body at a snail’s pace, you can feel your orgasm approaching. You yank his hair and he winces, bringing his hand to your neck and squeezing in retaliation.
“Daddy,” you wheeze, the edge of your vision growing fuzzy and dark. It’s the only warning you can give Trevor as the cliff starts to crumble below you, as you start to fall away into the orgasm that was denied from you for so long.
And when Trevor pulls his fingers out of you, he yanks you back onto solid ground.
And, unsurprisingly, you start to cry.
It’s not pretty, either. It’s not a tear here and there when you’re deepthroating your boyfriend, or the beautiful running of mascara as he fucks your face at some hockey event. No, this is full-on sobbing, gut-wrenching cries that have Trevor taking inventory of all the things he did to you, wondering if he pushed you too far. He rubs your thighs with both of his hands in a soothing motion, ignoring the glistening precum that he’s inadvertently rubbing into your skin.
“Baby,” Trevor murmurs.
You sob and raise your arms, needing him to hold you. Trevor’s face softens immediately and he pulls you into his chest, turning so he’s sitting with his back against the headboard and you’re awkwardly dangling half on his lap, half off. You keen into his neck, burying your face in his soft, tan skin.
“My girl,” Trevor whispers, rubbing your arms now and pulling you closer to him, comforting you with his warmth. “You’re perfect.”
“Daddy,” you whisper into his neck. “Please.”
Trevor tilts your head back and looks into your eyes. His gaze looks sad, meeting your own, red and puffy. “Please what, baby?”
“I need your cock,” You plead, petting over his stomach with a hand that feels like its made of static. “I need you to make me come, Daddy.”
Trevor groans, sounding pained. He twitches beneath you. “Like this?” He asks.
You nod, losing your words again. It’s a timid but vehement nod, needing Trevor to press inside you more than anything, but not knowing if you could handle another ruined orgasm.
“Please, let me come this time,” you say, trying to look as pathetic and needy as you can. With big doe eyes like this, Trevor has always been bad at denying you the things you want.
“Yeah, I think I’ve tortured you enough,” Trevor agrees, reaching under you and pressing his cockhead against your entrance. “Give me a bounce, baby. Wanna see your tits jump in front of my face, yeah?”
Trevor snakes his hands around to grab your bottom, his fingers tight against the skin. He uses his leverage to bounce you for him, knowing that you don’t have control over your movements as fucked out as you are, and he’d hate to see you cry more because you’re mad at yourself for not moving the way he wanted you to.
He lifts you up and down, snapping his hips up to meet yours when they fall. His eyes flicker between your boobs and your face, the teartracks drying over your cheeks as you allow yourself to be consumed by ecstasy. One of Trevor’s hands flies upward, tracing over your skin until he threads it between the strands of your hair. Once his whole hand is enveloped in your roots, he tugs and your mouth falls open.
Trevor leans forward and directs a glob of spit down your throat, his forceful hawk causing his spit to find the back of your throat.
You convulse on top of him, trembling under his watchful gaze and his warm cock. “Daddy,” you pant, feeling like you’re burning and drowning in your desire for him. Trevor slips his thumb into your mouth as you come and you suck on it like a child, grinding against him through your aftershocks.
You’re floating on air by the time your aftershocks cease and Trevor pulls out of you gently, grasping his cock in his fist. He’s watching you and you’re watching him. Never breaking eye contact, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out.
Trevor presses his tip to your tongue and strokes his cock, squeezing on the downstroke and groaning curses with each turn of his hand. He comes just seconds later, his white ropes of come gracing your tastebuds. He pulls away after only a few drops intersect with your tongue, continuing to come in spurts over your cheeks, lips, and nose. A bit of come drips down the tip of your nose and you poke your tongue out again to try and catch it, which makes Trevor laugh.
Still lost in your post-orgasm haze, you barely notice when Trevor leaves the bed and comes back with a moist towel. He wipes your face, then your thighs and pussy, dropping a kiss on your lower belly after he’s finished. You let out a breath at that, not knowing that you were holding it, astounded by the fragility and intimacy of the moment.
“Daddy,” you say out loud, mostly just to yourself. Mostly just to feel the word on your tongue, feel it take its shape in your mouth. It sounds like awe.
Trevor deposits the towel in the hamper across the room with a toss, proving yet again that his precision and accuracy are off the charts most of the time. He crowds your space, tracing your features with his delicate pinky. “Did Daddy make you feel good, baby?” Trevor asks. “You made Daddy feel good.”
You whine at that and almost want to cry again at the praise. All the time you spent wondering if you were good enough, if you’d ever get a boyfriend who loved you and stayed with you was worth it when you found Trevor. He always said the right things, made you feel things you’d never felt before.
“I love you,” you say.
Trevor slips his thumb into your mouth, watching your eyes close in bliss as he presses it against your tongue. You can still taste where he was rubbing your pussy with this digit.
“I love you,” he replies, voice soft. His voice sounds like awe, too.
note: small town girl chapter 1 next! (hopefully)
#puck luck's fics#andy writes anything🍄#trevor zegras#trevor zegras smut#trevor zegras x reader#trevor zegras x y/n#tz11#nhl smut#nhl x reader#nhl fanfiction#nhl fic#hockey smut
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𝖙𝖗𝖚𝖙𝖍 𝖔𝖗 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 - 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖔𝖑𝖔
warnings: giving head, unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, pet names (ma, baby, etc), whimper audio mentions, very light (literally like one sentence) masturbation, aftercare !!!
a/n: my first story on here 🤭 pls send requests I promise I'll do them! also tell me if u like the story!
word count: 2.4k
mini playlist: dangerous woman by ariana grande, often by the weekend, shut up and listen by nicholas bonnin, bathroom by montell fish >3333
enjoy!
You were at a party with your friends, a girl hangout.
You were all drunk and had decided to play truth or dare.
Unfortunately, it was your turn.
“Truth or dare,” One of your friends asked you.
If you were your usual sober self, you would have said truth.
But right now, you were dangerously drunk.
“Dare” You say, giggling as you wait for your friends to tell you what you have to do.
Your friend looks at the group, whispering something before she turns to you.
“Your dare is to text the third man in your contacts and ask him for a whimper audio.” She says, laughing as she watches your eyes widen slightly.
But instead of being a baby and not doing it, you open your phone and go to your contacts.
You gasp when you see who it is. Matt Sturniolo, your enemy.
You had texted him a few days ago about something, probably to get on his nerves, but now, you were going to have to text him and request a whimper audio.
Oh God.
Your friends watched eagerly as you typed out ‘send me a whimper audio’. You knew your friends were waiting on you to send it so you decided against clarifying it was for a dare, for right now, at least.
Your fingers shook as you hit send, immediately regretting your decision, even in your drunken state.
Your friends squealed as it sent and almost immediately, you saw that he read it.
You hit yourself in the head but just sigh and turn your phone off, continuing the game.
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You arrived home an hour later, by Uber, and crashed into your apartment, making a beeline for your couch.
Your head was pounding and you collapsed on the couch, breathing deeply. Your head felt like it was spinning on a merry-go-round and you could see fucking sounds and hear colors.
You were close to passing out when a ding went off. You fumbled for your phone that was still in your pocket and opened it. It was a message from Matt.
No, not a message. A voice note. It was just over two minutes long. You groan and think about the whimper audio dare. You were sure it was just two minutes of Matt asking what the hell was wrong with you and why the hell you would ask that.
Even though you know it’s a bad idea, you still click on it.
Immediately, you hear a soft moan. And then another one, and another one.
And you think, just for a moment, in the background you can hear something else.
Is that his-? You ask yourself. You shake your head and continue to listen.
A loud moan erupts from your phone and heat shoots right to your core. You debate throwing your phone but instead take a deep breath.
At about a minute in, you hear his voice.
“F-fuck, Y/N, I’m about to cum thinking about you.” You hear Matt say softly. His voice sounds far off as his heavy breathing comes through your speakers.
“This is what you do to me, Y/N.” You hear him whisper again. “I’m so fucking glad you asked for this, was wondering when you’d get my hints.” He laughed slightly, a groan following right after.
You could hear his breathing speed up as his movements sounded faster through the phone.
And you couldn’t help the way his words made you feel. Horny. Very fucking horny.
You couldn’t control yourself as you started the voice note over and your hand sneakily made its way under your sweats and into your panties.
You began to circle your clit and let out a moan that was almost in sync with Matt’s. “Oh fuck, “ You whimpered quickly before removing your hand from yourself.
You quickly paused the audio and texted Matt.
‘Please come over, I need you so bad.’
You hit send and waited eagerly for a response. You got one nearly immediately.
‘Omw ma’
—
Ten minutes later, you hear a knock on your door.
All you’ve been doing is listening to the audio. Over and over and over.
And trying not to touch yourself has been torture. But you knew it would be worth it when you heard those sounds in real life.
You rush to the door and fling it open, mouth dropping when you see Matt.
Black tank top, gray sweats hanging so low you could see the top of his Calvin Klein underwear, silver chain on his neck. You could almost drop to your knees right then and there.
He smirked at you before sliding past you. You shut the door quickly and spun around to face him.
“Send a whimper audio, hm?” He asked, slowly moving towards you. “What in the world made you ask me that? Because I know it wasn’t of your own doing, baby.” He pointed out, getting nearer.
You began to back away from him until your back hit the front door. “It was a dare.” You respond, gulping.
He smiled down at you as he stood above you. “Was it now?”
You nod quickly and avert your eyes from his face but he puts his fingers under your chin and turns your face back to his.
“Well, you got your whimper audio. So what do I get?” He asked you, quietly, dipping down to your ear. “Hm?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” You admit. Matt just chuckles and starts peppering soft kisses along your jaw.
“But Ma, I think you do. It’s not fair that I give you something and I get nothing in return. That’s not right, now is it?” He asks, licking a stripe up your neck.
You shake your head dumbly, relishing in the feeling of Matt’s mouth on your neck. “Mhm no that’s not f-fair.” You say, slurring your words.
“Yeah, so what do you think we should do about that, hm?”
You just so happened to glance down between the two of you. You could see Matt’s hardened bulge in his sweats and dropped down to your knees.
You gazed up at him and began to slowly draw his sweats down. You said nothing, just gazed at him through your long eyelashes. You could see his cock in his underwear, straining against the fabric, begging to be let free.
“May I?” You asked him, your voice dripping with honey. He simply nodded quickly and you wasted no time pulling his underwear down and running your small hand along his length,
Matt watched intently as you carefully licked a stripe up the underside of his length, your tongue running along a vein that had him throwing his head back, holding back a groan.
You wrapped your lips around his tip, tasting his salty-sweet precum on your tongue. Matt let out a low groan, and feverishly watched as you took him in your mouth, inch by painstaking inch.
“Fuck princess, please hurry up.” He almost begged, head falling forward. You smiled around his cock but took him until his tip touched the back of your throat.
“Mhm yeah that’s it” He groaned, various curses spilling out of his mouth as you ran your tongue along the underside of his length. But Matt was still impatient, growing frustrated at your slow pace.
He didn’t want to but his pleasure was so blinding that he could hardly think about the repercussions right now. He took your head and moved it back and forth on his dick.
You let out a squeal around his dick but quickened your pace. Tears pricked at the edge of your vision and you gagged around Matt but it didn’t stop his hand from continuing to force his dick farther and farther down your throat.
“Fuck baby, you’re absolutely loving my dick in your mouth, hm?” He forced out through gritted teeth.
His words shot straight to your core and you could feel the wetness down there. You wanted to hurry up so he could go ahead and just fuck you.
You began to play with his balls in your hand, earning a moan to erupt from Matt’s mouth along with another strained “Fuck Ma.”
You could feel his balls tighten and knew he was coming close to his finish. And you wanted to help him.
You tried to fit his whole length in your mouth and managed to get most of it in. Then you began running your tongue all along his shaft.
“Baby, you’re gonna swallow all my cum, okay?” He instructed.
Spit came out of the sides of your mouth and your vision began to blur from your lack of air but you had to do this for Matt. It was only fair.
He fucked your face roughly before finally letting out a loud groan and shooting thick spurts of cum straight down your throat.
He pulled out quickly and you gulped down air, panting as tears forced themself out the edges of your eyes.
You looked up at Matt who had regained his breath and gave him a small smile before wiping your mouth.
Matt could feel himself hardening again from the sight beneath him. He needed to be inside of you, now.
He took you under your arms from where you sat on the floor and hoisted you up and over his shoulder. You let out a squeak but don’t try anything as he carries you to your bedroom.
He takes you off of his shoulder and places you on the bed before immediately shedding his tank, throwing it somewhere on the floor.
You took yours off quickly too, not wanting to waste any time. You wanted this, you needed this.
Matt came over to you on the bed and started kissing you, not gently but roughly. His lips were urgent and yours fought back, a mess of teeth and tongue.
His hands wandered to your bra and started unclipping it, throwing it when he finally got it off. He broke the kiss and leaned back to look at you, your breasts on display for him.
“So fucking beautiful Ma” Matt said.
You let out a soft whimper at his words, your nipples hardening to the point of pain.
“You helped me so I help you, yeah? How about we get these leggings off?” He asked you and you nodded quickly, maybe too quickly but you were too blinded by your need for pleasure, especially if it came from him.
He pulled the leggings off you and discarded them. You suddenly remembered that you were wearing lacy blue panties, which you just so happened to remember was Matt’s favorite color.
“Did you wear these for me, baby?” He smirked. You whined, becoming needy for him to touch you.
“Please Matt, I need you so bad.” You whined out, grasping for his hands to just go ahead and take your underwear off. He didn’t resist as you guided his hands to the waistband of your underwear and drew his hands down, dragging your underwear with it, until they slipped off your legs and into the bedding.
He moved your legs open slightly, licking his lips when he saw how wet your cunt was, your wetness practically dripping down your slit. Matt simply couldn’t wait anymore, he needs you right now.
He looked to you for consent as he lined his cock up with your entrance. You nodded and he sank into you immediately, groaning. You whined at the quick intrusion but Matt stopped for a moment to let you get adjusted to his size before he continued.
He pulled out before thrusting into you at an agonizingly slow pace. You clawed at the bedsheets, practically begging him to just go faster, to fuck you into the mattress, to be rough, to hurry up.
“Damn, you’re really needy, huh ma?” He commented, rolling his hips lazily. You whined again. “Faster, faster, please go faster Matt” You begged him, writhing with need under him.
Then, in what seemed like almost a second, he quickly took you under your knees and raised you up before thrusting into you roughly. You moaned loudly, happy with the new pace. He quickly found a rhythm that had you screaming his name so loud people several floors down probably heard you.
“So fucking tight, baby.” He grunted as he fucked into you. You squeezed around his cock, feeling your orgasm approaching. “Matt, M’ gonna-”
“Mhm yeah baby, gonna cum on my cock? Huh, you gonna cum on my fucking cock?”
You nodded mindlessly, desperately grinding yourself on Matt’s cock in a feeble attempt to chase your high. Your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts, breathy moans erupting from your mouth every time he slams into you. He thrusted so hard into you that the headboard began to hit the wall but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a single fuck.
You hold onto the sheets so tight, it feels like your fingers might go straight through them. You’ve never been fucked this hard and needless to say, you were fucking loving it.
And then you felt it, that wonderful knot unraveling in your stomach, the intense pleasure that rippled through your body and caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head. You chanted Matt’s name over and over as you rode your high, so much it didn’t even sound like a real word anymore.
As you came on Matt’s cock, your pussy gripped his cock in the perfect way and then, Matt was cumming too. It seemed like it wouldn’t stop as he shot his sperm into you, not stopping his assault on your pussy as he fucked his cum into you.
“So fucking perfect, Ma. ‘Could fuck this pussy all night” Matt said. And then, he slumped over, exhausted but so fucking happy.
You two stayed like that for a few minutes so you could both catch your breath. Then Matt pulled out and watched as his cum slowly poured out of you onto the bed.
Your eyes fluttered gently as Matt wiped a piece of hair out of your face. He went to the bathroom and turned on the water, starting to make you a bath. Then he went back to you. “Come on, baby, let’s get you cleaned up.” He picked you up and carried you to the bathroom, helping you to use the toilet so you didn’t get a UTI.
Then he carefully put you into the bathtub and cleaned you off, washing your body and hair, all the while you let him. He took extra care to wash the soap off and wrap you in a fluffy towel. He carried you back to the bed and took the sheets off and threw them in the wash before putting new ones on the bed.
He laid down with you and cuddled. You wrapped your arms around his neck and muttered “I love yous” on his skin.
----<333
#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#nick sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#the sturniolo triplets#the sturniolos#matt stuniolo fanfic#smut#x reader#imagines#fem reader#female reader#tumblr fyp#fypage#fypシ#fyp#fypツ#foryou#explorepage#viral#writers on tumblr#fanfic
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Forbidden — S.H
— summary: things between you and your bodyguard are anything but professional.
— CW: smut! 18+ only! popstar!reader, bodyguard!steve, semi-public sex, fingering, protected sex, strong language.
“Thank you Dallas, Texas! You guys showed up and showed out tonight, and I am eternally grateful for every single one of you!”
The sound of the crowds loud cheers had you smiling from ear to ear. Even though you’d been living this lifestyle for going on seven years, you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it.
The fans. The sold out stadiums. Albums reaching top ten on streaming platforms. All of it. It was all a dream come true, and you meant it when you said you were so grateful.
You smiled widely, blowing one final kiss to the rambunctious crowd before you disappeared back stage.
Immediately, you’re swarmed by everyone in your crew, your manager, Julie, being the first to approach you.
“You did amazing tonight, sweetheart! Steve is waiting for you by the dressing room, quickly change, have Steve grab your things and let’s get loaded up. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
She grabs your hands, pulling you in for a quick kiss on the cheek before she rushes off to help get everything squared away for the night.
As you approached the single dressing room that sits farther in the back, your heart begins thumping wildly in your chest. You and your bodyguard had a… less than professional type of relationship to say the least… And you always looked forward to the end of the night, after your show during that small — but lengthy enough — time period where you and Steve could be alone.
“Ms. Y/L/N.” Steve said in greeting, nodding his head at you once.
You smiled. “Mr. Harrington, always a pleasure.”
A wide grin took over Steve’s face, his eyes darting behind you to make sure no one else was around. Satisfied that it was just the two of you, he gripped your hand tightly, opening the door to the dressing room and dragging you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.
“Mr. Harrington,” you gasped, a small chuckle pulled from your chest. “Eager are we?”
Steve’s large hands gripped at your waist, his fingers digging into the flesh through your tight, purple sparkly dress. He pulled your body flush into his, dipping his head down and whispering, “Always eager when it comes to you, baby.”
Before you could respond, his lips were crashing onto yours. You melted into his touch, the kiss sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You knew it was wrong, it was highly inappropriate to have a relationship like this with your bodyguard, but you didn’t care. The moment your eyes had landed on Steve Harrington, you knew you wanted him.
With perfect brown hair, beautiful brown eyes, tall, muscular body, perfect lips. He was the epitome of perfection.
Steve broke the kiss, your lips chasing his when he did. You frowned, “Why’d you stop? We don’t have much ti-”
“Shhhh,” He paused, his fingers playing with the thin straps of your dress, dropping them down your shoulders. His chocolate eyes stayed on yours, watching intently as he stripped you of the fabric. “We have plenty of time, trust me.”
You nodded, your dress now pooled around your ankles on the floor. You felt your face heat up, a blush creeping up the back of your neck and to your cheeks under the intense heat of Steve’s eyes. No matter how many times you hooked up with him, it always felt like the first. He always made you feel beautiful, he had a way of making you nervous with just one look, one word, one kiss.
His lips landed on yours again, his hands finding your waist again, fingers pushing into the waistband of your panties. He slowly slides them down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles and you quickly pick your feet up, kicking them across the room.
Steve’s fingers slide over your slick folds, a groan emitting from his chest. He smirks against your lips, “So fucking wet, is this all for me gorgeous?”
Your tongue flicks his upper lip, your own smirk making its way to your lips. “Always for you, Stevie.”
A low growl forms in his chest as his fingers continue to slide back and forth through your slick. He shoves his middle and ring fingers into your soaked pussy, making you gasp softly at the slight stretch they brought you.
“Steve, so good.” You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as he quickly thrusts his fingers in and out.
You’re panting, your orgasm growing deep in your lower belly as Steve continues his assault on your cunt with his fingers. “Steve, s-so close.” you breathe out.
“Doing so good f’me baby, be my good girl and cum on my fingers, okay? Gonna have you falling apart on my cock next.”
He dips his head down, his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck and shoulder as his fingers push you over the edge. Your knees buckle, your entire body shaking from the mind blowing orgasm that washes over you.
Steve finger fucks you through your high, letting your body fall limp in his hold before he finally removes his fingers from inside you. He wraps his right arm underneath your knees, his left arm supporting your upper half as he carries you toward the couch in the dressing room. He lays you gently onto your back, “You still got one more in you, sweetheart?”
You give him a lazy smile, slowly nodding your head, “Of course. Help me sleep tonight.”
The grin on his face grows as his fingers hastily work the button and zipper of his black slacks. He shoves his pants and boxers down his legs, working on the black button up shirt next. He removes his earpiece, tossing it onto the small table in the room and opens up the condom he’d dug out of his wallet before he discarded his slacks.
You watch with wide, lust filled eyes as he rolls the condom down his impressive length. Long, and thick. He always had you salivating at the mere sight of him.
Steve reached the couch in two long strides, climbing on top of you, his right hand holding him up so he didn’t crush you under his weight. His left hand gripped his cock, sliding the head through your slick folds, his beautiful brown eyes on yours. “You ready?” he asks.
You buck your hips up in response, causing him to chuckle as he slowly eases himself inside you. You moan, the feel of his thick cock finally stretching you making your mind go blank.
“Fffffuck, Steve!” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your nails into his broad shoulders.
He hisses in a breath, your fingers breaking through his soft skin as he finally bottoms out, his tip nudging that spot inside you that has stars exploding behind your eyes.
“Shit, always so fucking hot and tight and wet. I fucking love this pussy, sweetheart.”
His hips begin moving, his cock pushing into you at a brutal pace. He lifts your right leg with his left arm, opening you up more for him, allowing him to pound into you from a better angle.
The small dressing room is filled with moans, heavy breathing and skin slapping skin as Steve fucks into you, that familiar feeling brewing in your lower belly as your second orgasm nears.
“Stevie, s’close! Please, go harder!” you cry out.
He does as you ask, pushing himself into you with more force, slowly pulling out so only the tip remains inside you before slamming back in with brutal force. He groans when your pussy tightens around his cock, his eyes nearly rolling out of his skull at the sweet sensation. “Go on, sweetheart, I feel you squeezing me. Cum f’me, cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”
A mixture of Steve’s words and the way his tip was repeatedly hitting your g-spot had you spiraling over the edge, moans and his name falling from your lips as you came undone around him.
“Steve! Shit, shit shit!”
Steve came undone right behind you, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he pushed into you one final time before spilling his load into the condom.
He lay on top of you, supporting his weight on his right hand again as he stroked your cheek with his left. “I’ll never tire of you, sweetheart. It sucks this has to be so secretive, but you’re my favorite secret.”
You smile softly at him, “You’re my favorite secret too, and maybe once your contract ends we can go public, but we can’t afford you getting into trouble over something so trivial.”
He plants one final kiss to your lips, pushing himself up and off the couch and quickly dressing. “I know, only two years left, sweetheart. Hopefully you never grow sick of me, and maybe we’ll have a real shot once i’m no longer an employee under a hard thumb of rules.”
You open your mouth to respond but Steve shushes you, “Shhh, I don’t want to hear any apologies from you. Get dressed, we have to get going before Julie starts searching for you.”
STEVE TAGLIST: @drewstarkeyslut @halflifejess @starkeysprincess @redhead1180 @maybankskiss @simars3 @antagonize-me-motherfucker
Steve Harrington masterlist | taglist form
#steve harrington#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#steve harrington imagine#bodyguard!steve#popstar!reader#stranger things
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Vampires of a Feather | Yandere Pomefiore
Think about modern life no magic
And you own an apartment with your loving and adoring boyfriend Rook
Unbeknownst to you
On one of his oh so familiar nature strolls Rook found himself poking around an abandoned mansion
He won’t bother to say anything about the lovely boy he finds resting in there almost certain a dead body
Such luscious pale skin, such dark lipstick
He feels such beauty deserves a kiss even if their beyond the grave
But he won’t tell you that
He’ll return home and kiss you as deeply as he does every time he sees you
You two will go on eventually settling down to have dinner
When you hear something bang against the door
“Uh don’t worry babe, I’ll get it!”
“Be back soon beau trésor!”
Thinking it’s a failed knock you head for the door to open it
Something small but sturdy whizzes past you
Ricochetting off the walls and into some boxes you hadn’t unpacked
“Oh my Gosh Rook!”
“Oh my!”
“Ah Rook don’t go over there I think it’s a bat!”
“Oh how cute!”
“Not cute they have rabies!”
Despite your protests he’s forging on with you worriedly at his back
Come to find it’s that fellow from the abandoned mansion
And his name is Epel
“Oi what’s this weird place and why am I around a bunch of humans?”
“It’s a man!”
“Si magnifique! The joli monsieur from the house!”
“From the house?!”
After explaining himself Epel explains how he a vampire found himself skyrockettng into your home
He unfortunately mistook the pheromone that would have led him to his pod for Rook’s scent
Thus he ended up here
“Vampires travel in pods?”
“Yes that’s how-”
“Like dolphins?”
“I guess…”
“That’s kind of cute!”
“No it’s not!”
“I agree mon chéri!”
“IT IS NOT CUTE!”
From then on you and Rook help Epel blend in to the modern world
“Come on Epel no need to freak out!”
“No! Keep that terrible creation away from me!”
“It’s only a camera!”
“Come Pomme de poison! It’s a glorious tool (Y/n) and I are intimately close with!”
Slowly getting to a comfortable place where you both share your blood with him within reason
“Mmm Epel?”
“Yes (Y/n)?”
“Do you really need to lick my neck so many times? I’m ready for you to just get it over with.”
“Shhh let me enjoy this! Let me take my time.”
“Well okay…but does Rook have to sit so closely?”
“Don’t mind me, my Love! I’m only enjoying the enticing dance of life happening on your lovely neck!”
It’s only until a while of the domestic life along side him that you come to a sad realization
“Rook…he can’t stay with us.”
“Where is this coming from, mon chéri?”
“I was thinking…Epel’s going to outlive us.”
“Darling.”
“Then he’ll be all alone.”
“(Y/n).”
“We have to help him find his pod.”
Rook’s face drops every time you give him that look
Spending your free time devoting to properties his pod might own
Your acutely aware that he’s not as enthusiastic
But this isn’t about him
This is about Epel
Who in the mean time doesn’t mind finding his pod
But he doesn’t really care
“I’ve found two humans I like quite a lot. Besides I don’t really care about my pod especially since they’e a bunch of stuffy snobs. But it (Y/n) wants to find them I don’t mind.”
By the time Rook actually gets this from Epel you’ve already sent a letter to the one you’ve tracked down
“(Y/n)--!”
“--We have something to tell you!”
“Oh! Welcome home you two! You’re just in time to meet the vampire I found that's from your pod!”
“Oh no!”
“Wow!”
“Hello again Epel, I’ve come to take you home.”
It’s Vil Schoenheit a reclusive idol that’s supposed to be an old decrepit man you were sending letters with
But alas he was a vampire
And a very powerful one at that
He immediately begins critiquing Epel and subsequently Rook
“But at the very least you’ve found some decent hosts…for humans at least.”
“Hey! Don’t talk down to my humans!”
“Your anger is just as unbecoming on you as it was all those centuries ago.”
Ultimately it’s decided by Vil that Epel will be going with him
To the country he quietly runs, where hundreds of lesser vampires serve him loyally
“I-I’m not going without Rook and (Y/n)!”
“Wait what–”
“C'est mieux que de te traquer!”
“Ugh I understand (Y/n) but this other one I’m not sure.”
Vil since he received your letter had been intrigued
A mere human who was so straight-forward with something many would call conspiracy
Not to mention he’s absolutely enamored with ‘fixing’ you before properly elevating your status
To a vampire of course
He’ll find out he likes Rook too
but that's later
Until then he’ll just drag him along until Epel looses interest
With a snap of his finger tons of other vampires arrive taking your stuff and loading it in trucks
“Wait hold on! What are you doing?!”
“Do you have problems listening (Y/n)? You are coming with us.”
“But we can’t–We’d never live as long as you, it’s just not right!”
“As humans you won’t but once you’re a vampire that will change.”
“But I don’t want to be–”
“Hush. Rook if you’re good for anything you’ll help (Y/n) pack their bags.”
“Yes my Queen!”
“Rook!!”
No sooner than you could register
You’re unofficially decided as one of the newest members of their pod
You’d like to think you weren’t alone in this confusion
But Rook doesn’t seem to have any of the same concerns you have
“Oh Epel isn’t this perfect! We’ll become members of your pod with the Queen!”
“Ugh! Not you too! I’ve got to make sure he doesn’t ruin you and (Y/n) completely.”
#yandere x reader#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yandere x you#yanderexrea#yandere#yanderes#yandere harem#yandere pomefiore#yandere male#yandere epel felmier#yandere rook hunt#yandere rook x reader#yandere epel x reader#yandere rook hunt x reader#yandere epel felmier x reader#yanderes x reader#yandere polyamorous#yandere poly#yandere poly x reader#yandere vil schoenheit#yandere vil#yandere vil x reader#yandere vampires#yandere vampire#yandere monster#yandere x darling#yandere twst x reader#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland x reader
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A Royal Audience: The Rite
Chapter 1 Masterlist for The Rite is here
A link to my full Masterlist is here
Summary: (1) You, an Asgardian court nobody, fall asleep in the palace baths and have an unconventional introduction to the elusive Loki Odinson. (w/c 3.7k)
Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x female reader. Smut. Language. Voyeurism.
Water splashes and your legs fly up, floating out into the murk of torchlit water. Bracing against the stone edge, you glance over your shoulder with a blossoming horror.
The curved arch reveals the glittering lights of Asgard below; mountains which had glowed with low-afternoon light when you’d settled in the palace baths now cloaked in darkness. Why did no one wake me?
It's forbidden for anyone but the Royal family to be in the baths after sundown. And the penalties are severe.
Surely more of a guideline than a rule, you think optimistically as you get your bearings. Panic twists in your chest. Surely Odin can’t imprison every member of the court who dozes off in the hot springs.
Heaving yourself onto the side, you shiver in the immediate chill. The loss of warmth is like the absence of a lover’s touch; leaving their bed on a winter night. You’re surprised you can remember what that feels like.
A breeze blows through the atrium as you grasp for the robe you discarded earlier. It sticks to clammy skin, thick droplets seeping though the fabric as you gaze longingly at the towels lined up at the side. No time. But as you flick soggy tendrils of hair from beneath the collar, your ears prick. No.
Footsteps.
There’s only one doorway to the baths. A security thing. One hallway – in and out.
Your eyes dart frantically at limited options. Tall, imposing pillars encircle the room. One of them will have to do. All you can do is pray the guards just take a quick peek around the door. The squeak of your bare feet on the floor fades just as your wet skin meets marble. You cover your mouth, eyes screwing shut.
The door swings open, creaking on ancient hinges.
“Prepare the oils,” someone commands. A dark, enunciated order which seems to settle in the steam.
A shudder runs down your spine. That voice. Another one replies in hushed reverence, flopping sandals scooting over the marble floor while bottles rattle.
“Haste,” the first growls.
You clutch the flimsy robe tighter to your chest. The first time, you might have been mistaken. But as the irritated syllables of that solitary word settle, there’s no mistaking it. Prince Loki.
If you were asked to swear in front of the Norns that you’d never envisioned the dark prince as you touched yourself in the dead of night, thought of his forbidden curls twisting through your hair as you rode him, the timbre of his moans as you choked on his cock – you’d be a fucking liar. I mean, who hasn't? But this? This is beyond the pale. Even conjured from your sickest fantasies. This is wrong. This is...a death sentence.
And yet, you find yourself edging closer to the side of the pillar.
Should you announce yourself? Grovel? Retreat out the door with garbled apologies, bowing with your face lowered and begging for your life? Probably.
But it’s too late now. Far too late. And if you’re going to end up in the dungeons, as on some level you always suspected you would, at least this image will sustain you.
Loki Odinson stands all limbs and and length at the edge of the baths. From emerald-encrusted slippers to the crown of dark waves spilling over his shoulders – he’s perfect; unmistakeably royalty even in his lounge-wear. What little there is of it.
White steam rolls above the water, as sheer and flawless as the chiffon robe that moulds to his body. The faint hue of his skin shows through the forest-green material, fingers toying with the tie circling his hips as he casts a scathing glance to the servant whirling a phial of oil between his fingers.
“Tis’ ready, my lord” the servant says. The prince grunts, letting the sash fall open.
You hold a breath as the garb falls down the sinewy bulge of his shoulders, deep carves of tricep muscle illuminated in torchlight.
You’ve never seen him so close; never had time to admire the stark beauty emanating from every angled inch of him. Without the distracting glint of his armour it’s almost enough to make your eyes water. Glimpses of him had been in passing, a stolen gawk before you bowed you head and he moved quickly through the great hall past the other courtly nobodies.
The luxuriously weaved material slides over his skin, folding and rippling as it drips from his fingertips. It shimmers in low flamelight and he rolls his shoulders back as it drops, abdominals clenching. You clench along with them as the robe pools around his ankles.
Your palms sweat against the pillar, fingers beginning to claw as Loki steps into the water. He rakes his hair back, tilting his chin to the ceiling as he puts one foot ceremonially in front of the other. Making an entrance, even without an audience. Or so he thinks.
The servant stands obediently by the bath’s edge, staring ahead as the prince’s thighs flex with each effortless step, liquid lapping around his knees.
As much as you try not to look, sort of, to preserve some sliver of dignity for the god, saliva wells under your tongue. His perfect cock bobs between his legs. It’s true what they say, you think in a daze. His pubic hair is an immaculate shadow. Even his balls are perfect.
Loki sinks down, dipping long hair back in the water before seating himself in the opposite spot you’d occupied minutes ago. Jet hair plasters to his skin like tar, droplets of water clinging to his torso. “Begin,” he mutters with an air of annoyance. The servant complies, pouring the rose-tinted phial into his hand and beginning to massage the god’s scalp.
You watch in utter beguilement as Loki’s head is nudged from side to side, indecent moans of pleasure snaking from his throat as the favoured servant carries out his work. Thin drips of oil roll down the prince’s brow, catching the light. He tips his head back, jawline pointed to the ceiling like the blade of an axe. He lets out a whimper of pleasure.
You press your lips together so hard it hurts as a crease appears in the god’s brow, his eyes shut as the man kneeling behind turns the attention to his shoulders. The oil spreads down the thick of his neck, to the crevices of his collarbone; glistening.
“Oh-h, yes…there-” the god growls, a gnawing groan shaking the air.
For the first time, you notice the unmistakable heat of arousal sliding between your thighs. Squirming, you think briefly about looking away. You decide against it.
In the blink of an eye, Loki’s mood changes like a winter wind. He leans forward, an abrupt tsk punctuated by the wave of a hand. “Leave me,” he demands. The servant looks visibly confused, fingers poised in the air above tense muscle.
Loki turns expectantly over his shoulder. “Need I say it again?” he purrs menacingly. It was quietly brutal. You smirk in spite of yourself. Classic Prince Loki, you muse. You never dreamed you’d get to see it in person.
The man shakes his head, shuffling to his feet. He shuffles out the room with little bows and letting the ancient latch clunk into place. Your breaths quicken and the sudden gravity of the situation settles like a boulder in your throat. Frozen, you watch Loki eye the door a moment longer before resting back against the stone with a lazy sigh.
Long fingers run through the slick of his hair while water slops around his nipples. Gods, how you want to pull one between your teeth as you pump his-
“Aren’t you cold?”
His voice was an arrow. Sharp, targeted, tipped with venom. It’s hit spreads through your body, white noise filling your brain, blood thundering in your ears.
“Aren’t you cold?” he repeats, sterner this time. You realise with horrifying clarity that Prince Loki of Asgard, as eusive and unknowable as faraway galaxies to a mouse, is talking to you. And he’s naked. And you’re definitely spending the next decade in the dungeons. If you’re lucky.
With shaking hands, you step out from behind the pillar. The game is up. But to your credit, you have closed your eyes, one palm shielding them in a last ditch attempt at salvation.
“Your Majesty I apologise I...fell asleep in the water, and woke up after sundown- the laws, and you came in...I didn’t know where to go- what to do-please have mercy...”
You squint between parted fingers to gauge his reaction, hoping that the last threads of your long-gone innocence are believable. The prince curls a finger to his lips, covering a smirk.
“I did not look upon your majesty...” you lie.
The god’s eyes run from your ankles to your face, a devious smile playing at one side of his mouth. His lips part, chin tilting upwards, tongue resting behind his upper teeth before the perfect enunciation of, “Liar.”
“I did not look upon-” you stammer, lowering your hand and staring at the floor.
“-Oh, stop it.” Loki says. It’s followed by a melodic chuckle ricocheting around the marble walls. You glance up. One elbow rests on the stone behind him, water rippling against his chest. He tilts his head, raising the other arm out the water.
“Never let it be said the God of Mischief is not merciful,” he rumbles coyly. A solitary finger beckons. “You must be cold,” he repeats for the third time, softer. “I assure you the baths are warmer than the dungeon, if that was your intent for the remainder of the evening.”
Each step feels like an eternity as you let yourself be drawn forward by weak flesh. You can’t take your eyes off his, thundering silently into your soul like a sexual storm.
“I am not to the dungeons, then?” you ask cautiously.
“I won’t tell if you won’t.”
He winks, a perfectly timed droplet of oil falling from his chin to the water below with a thick plop. It makes your stomach flip. He stiffens suddenly, raising his palm in a ‘stop’.
“You may leave now...if you wish,” he says. An aura of stiff formality settles on his expression.
This is the Loki you recognise from feast days and speeches which ring around the towering cloisters of the great hall. The palm held upright softens to gesture to the other side of the pool. “Or you may stay, if you wish. Either way, sending such a flower to the dungeons to wilt and wither would surely be a greater crime than the one you have committed.”
He pauses. There’s a flash of pink as his tongue runs over his lips. His gaze drops to your fingers fidgeting nervously with the sash of your robe, still stained with watermarks from its hasty assembly. “Curiosity is only natural, one supposes,” he says.
“I didn’t mean to do it,” you reply quietly.
Loki’s eyes meet yours, one eyebrow rising. “Ah, but you did.” His voice is deeper, wisps of intrigue catching in every syllable. “In my experience, the path paved with mistakes leads to better stories. Wouldn’t you agree?”
You bite your lip. “Your Majesty are you...sure? I’m-” you glance towards the door, hesitating before you met the prince’s waiting stare, “-naked, under this.”
Loki’s long index finger dips teasingly into the water, feigned surprise making his brows rise as he watches it sink beneath the surface. The lip twitches again as his digit skims, slow ripples pulsing out from his body. “Egalitarian, wouldn’t you say? Considering your recent education on my own state of undress.”
Heat rises in your cheeks, matching the inexplicable confidence beginning to blossom in your belly. Loki smiles expectantly, resting both elbows casually on the ledge.
His lips form a soft o as your robe falls around your feet. You feel his stare roaming your body as keenly as though its his hands. Can he see the translucent sheen of arousal smeared down your inner thighs as you step into the pool? Possibly. Probably.
It’s true what they say about his body, about his temper, about his cock, after all. Why not his powers of perception?
The water licks against your skin, the thrill of this forbidden meeting making every hair on your body stand to attention. Pores tingle against the embrace of heat as you sink beneath the surface, perching on the flat stone seat beneath. The curve of your mounds bob above gently lapping water.
The same spot you’d been in earlier. But now, the view is entirely different.
You imagine that the archway behind you is a beautiful scene. Asgard’s moons would be shining, their light halo’ing your wetted hair against a blanket of stars. And yet, Prince Loki’s eyes never leave yours.
Although ten meters stretch between you, the whisper of his breath seemed to curl against your ear. You widen your legs beneath the water, immediately squeezing them closed again. Your lips purse, stifling a whine.
“Your first royal audience, I gather?” Loki asks politely. You nod. This is madness.
Slowly, he shifts. One arm slips beneath the water, then two. His chin dips, observing you seductively from half-lidded eyes. “Why have I never seen you before?”
The question hangs amidst the steam rolling over soft ripples.
“I find myself new at court, your Majesty” you hear yourself answer. It isn’t true. But it's better than the embarrassing reality. You're an invisible cog.
“Liar,” he murmurs seductively. The corners of his eyes crease with mirth, a wet curl falling down to the side of his cheek. Somehow, your fingers find their way to your clit; hidden beneath the sweet-smelling veil of the baths.
“How can I have overlooked such a jewel in the midst of this grey wasteland?”
“Wasteland?!” you scoff. It's bold, a peal of laughter escaping in spite of yourself. “Hardly.”
The god cocks an eyebrow. “Despite my hyperbole, the sentiment remains. How did I miss you?”
There’s a moment of silence; anticipation choking the air. A suspicious disturbance begins to swell at the water by Loki’s mid-section and a chill of desire makes you shiver despite the temperate water; imagining those long, elegant fingers wrapping around that long, elegant cock.
You began to toy with yourself, sparks of pleasure thrumming through your veins. Your shoulders began to roll in time with the pressure of your fingers. Unmistakeable. Breaths rise and fall in your chest, breasts bouncing lightly at the surface.
He grits, throat working as the straight lower line of his perfectly white teeth flash into view. The swell of water above his groin crests to a flurry; his deep, filthy exhales wrapping around your inhibitions and choking them. All pretence gone, you release the moan you’ve been holding.
Loki breaths out hard, a low ragged breath that seemed to part the steam caressing the water’s surface. “Mmm,” he grunts, neck stiffening. A vein at his throat stands hard and thick, straining as water began to splash against him from his abuse beneath.
This is a scandal. You are a scandal. If anyone finds out, you’re finished...and yet.
As the prince’s chin points to his glistening chest, wet from the splashback from fucking himself beneath the surface, you find you care not one jot.
His eyes darken, long lashes curled up to knitted brows. Loki’s lips are parted, tongue hovering and forming senseless words between laboured breaths. His cheekbones flash in the low light, soaking hair strewn over his milky skin. And always, his gaze is on you.
The lofty, untouchable, inscrutable god that you’ve fantasised about is looking at you as he pleasures himself. Thinking about you as he sits across the water tugging his flawless cock. And if this is the shining, glorious moment which would burn out in a blaze of reputation-ruining glory to ash then so be it. Worth it.
His dulcet moans of onanism grow louder, timing with your own. Only once do you tip your head back as you feel climax rear, a growled command of ‘look at me,’ through gritted teeth snapping you forward again.
If you’re ever deigned worthy to feel the prince inside you, have his marble body flush to your own in the throes of passion, feel his lustful praise hot in your ear– just once – you would die happy. But this? This could be enough.
“S-so dutiful,” the prince moans, his shoulders juddering as he strangled the words. “B-brave,” he gasps. His brow furrows deeper with one last longing stare at your glistening neck and shoulders as you cum hard, a quiet mewl of his name echoing around the baths. It’s all you can do not to scream.
“G-gods,” Loki chokes. Every muscle you can see in his body seems to tense, a thundering roar like ripping leather cascading from his throat. His mouth hangs open, grimacing to the atrium above.
In the death of his cry, there’s silence but for the splash of water as the two of you compose yourself. Still flushed from orgasm, you push your hair back. The prince raises the hand that had been pleasuring himself out the water, inspecting a thick, white string that clings to his fingertips. He turns his gaze to you as he sucks the cum from his digits.
God he’s fucking filthy, you think. I knew it. It takes every piece of willpower not to wade across the baths and lick it from his mouth. You bite your lip, matching his sultry demeanour and the prince’s eyebrow twitches. Your reaction is clearly to his satisfaction.
“This has been amusing.”
He stands abruptly, breath stealing from your lungs as his entire body comes into view again. You aren’t prepared. The god’s cock is still hard. Long and perfectly formed, it’s earlier fairness now replaced with the blush of his work. Above, his abdomen glistens; pearled droplets of oily water running leisurely over muscled ridges. You open your mouth and close it again. Loki smiles.
He turns and the toned meat of his ass shifts on his ascent up the short steps out the baths. With a click of his fingers, the robe and slippers he’d discarded are upon him once more. Your stomach drops.
“I didn’t tell you my name,” you blurt as he approaches the door. Prince Loki’s profile slices into view, the perfect arc of his bone structure lined over one broad shoulder in dancing torchlight. His eyes cast down and move to yours with theatrical precision.
“Your name?!” he purrs incredulously. “We must keep some mystery, surely.” And with the swirl of his robe and a thud of the ancient latch, he’s gone.
Loki’s stomach churns, emerald slippers feeling heavier with every step. He feels along the wall, blinking away the dizziness growing behind his eyes.
Risky. Even for me.
He pauses at the end of the corridor, steadying his breaths. There was something about her. Something which shattered any semblance of decorum he usually clung to in the presence of the court, however strange the situation. Her audacity. Gods, the look in her eyes as she brought herself to climax; pinning him under her gaze like a starving wretch at a feast. He stares at his feet, jewels throwing prisms from torchlight.
“Brother?”
Loki looks up, immediately rolling his eyes. “Spying on me? Truly you need to find something more wholesome to occupy your time, brother.”
“Of course not. I intended to join you.”
Loki’s stomach lurches as he notes the robe hanging off his brother’s shoulders, the plush red towels stacked in his glowering manservant’s arms.
“No,” he snaps as Thor attempts to pass. The hand pressing against his brother’s chest is still wet, and he has a sudden hope it’s only water. “The temperature is not pleasing tonight. Tepid, at best. Trust me, brother.”
“Is that so?” Thor asks, eyebrow rising.
If he finds her in there, she’ll be punished. He won’t think twice before running to father like a dog. The thought wouldn’t usually cause him alarm but there it was again, that niggling feeling that greater fates were at play. He studies Thor’s face. "Trust me," Loki says.
His brother sighs. “I trust you with very few things, Loki, but the temperature of bathwater is verily one of them.” He waves a hand and the servant scuttles away into the gloom. “In truth, brother, I hoped to speak to you about the Rite.”
A hiss blows between Loki’s teeth, eyes darting to the side. “In my own time.”
“Your own time?!” Thor stomps forward, making the torches rattle. “You’ve had five hundred years to find someone, Loki. Nine moons; that’s all you have until you must wait another five centuries for the alignment. Don’t you want to secure yourself in the succession? What if something were to happen to father? To me? The people of Asgard must be assured of your suitability.”
“The entire thing is a farce. The fact that you succeeded, proves it.”
Thor’s face darkens. “Don't speak of our sacred traditions that way. You know they’re in place for a reason.”
A snort steals from Loki’s nostrils. “I have no doubts of my skill, I know I could rule Asgard’s people selflessly and with great enthusiasm; why must it be paraded in an inane peacocking which will make the high-lords wilt with inferiority?”
Silence hangs thick in the narrow corridor.
“A fact which makes your refusal to participate even more perplexing," Thor says, narrowing his eyes and yanking the sash at his waist in a way Loki assumes he thinks to be dramatic. "Nine moons, brother.”
As Thor's footsteps die away; he listens for splashing, for movement, for sneaking. But there’s nothing. He steps out the emerald slippers and pads back to the door, turning the handle with a final, furtive glance behind him.
He expects to see you draped nude over the chaise in the corner, or perhaps spread for him at the edge of the baths with hungry longing in your sharp eyes...but you’re gone. Loki frowns and stalks to the pillar which concealed you before.
“Borr’s blood,” he hisses under his breath, scanning the room.
And then he sees it; something silken and knotted loops around the balcony pillars, glimmering in moonlight. He realises suddenly that the draping which normally billows in the evening breeze is gone. Loki smirks as he paces to the balcony and casts a cursory look over the edge. The makeshift ladder hangs to the level below. The royal laundry, if he’s not mistaken; the same hot spring source.
“Nine moons,” he repeats quietly to the silence, rapping his knuckles against the marble twice before turning away with a smile.
💖Thanks for joining me for this lil journey! 🕯️Tags in comments x
Chapter Two will be online Wednesday 12 June.
#loki x reader#loki smut#the rite#loki fanfiction#loki x you#loki x you smut#loki odinson#loki odinson x reader#lokismut#loki laufeyson#loki fanfic#loki x yn#loki x female reader#loki x female reader smut#loki imagine
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Matt bringing up the idea of Dorian having received the backlogged messages from Orym is insane to me because like. what an array of messages to receive all in a row. Like, let's game it out:
1. "Dorian? Can you hear me? What's the sky look like where you are? Tell me you're okay." All the retroactive fear and horror and sitting with the inability to respond. Awful. Can't feel great. Implication that wherever Orym was, there was a serious threat to both his life and people writ large considering he's asking Dorian if he's okay.
2, "Dorian. Still alive. By the skin of our teeth. Want to talk more. You know where Dariax is?" Easily the least concerning message, and yet it ALSO implies a near-death experience. Crazy pivot there. "yeah we nearly died, but, hey, do you know where Dariax is at?" Absolutely no info on why Orym would be asking after Dariax of all people.
3. "Dorian. We're alive. Been to the moon. Going back. Find the Tempest. If I don't get the chance again........I've really missed you." The repetition of "we're alive"? Not a good sign! "If I don't get a chance again"? Really not a good sign! He's been to the MOON? Re: Dorian's conversation with Keyleth, we know he thought this was a code word for something and not literally the moon in the fucking sky, but regardless, there is mounting desperation happening here, and the Damocles' sword of friends dying suddenly seems a lot like it's about to drop.
If I got those three messages all in a row when sending came back online, I too would have started booking my ass toward Keyleth immediately, because clearly something awful and massive is going on out there involving my friends.
#orym's last message omitted because it came later than these three#like actually getting these three messages at once would be. a little heartbreaking I think#mans is out here almost dying every day from the sounds of it lmao#critical role#4-sided dive#orym#dorian storm#bells hells
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Nick gets a lot of (well-deserved) credit for being an amazing boyfriend to Charlie, and we know by now that he's a great friend, too. But what's almost more interesting to me is the underlying core personality trait that enables him to be both of those things--his emotional intuition and intelligence.
You see this in the comics mostly through Nick's facial expressions (no one can look worried like Nick Nelson can), but the show takes it a bit further. He's incredibly in tune with Charlie almost from the get-go. Nick watches him for small emotional cues and recognizes what they could mean, most notably before the confrontation with Ben after rugby practice. He reads between the lines of Charlie's deflections and falsely cheerful texts and pushes (with trademark Nick Nelson sensitivity) for the truth. He notices when Charlie is beset with intrusive thoughts, even if he doesn't know (at least early on) what they're about, and proceeds to interrupt those thoughts. He can read Charlie so well not only because he pays attention, real attention, but because he already has the emotional intuition required to interpret Charlie's inner complexities.
There are many moments throughout the show where we see Nick display this keen insight with everyone in his life, not just Charlie. When Elle, who he barely knows at this point, is upset about being set up with Tao, he immediately seeks to alleviate her distress by offering a true explanation of why she and Tao were invited in the first place--to be part of a triple date. He wants Elle to know that it was important to him (and Charlie, Tara, and Darcy) that she and Tao be there not just to try to set them up, but because they wanted to include them in an important step for both couples (Nick and Charlie just beginning to share their relationship, and Tara and Darcy trying to find acceptance after coming out as a couple). Nick knows that Elle values truth and honesty, and he gives her that so she can feel comfortable with her friends again.
Nick is also incredibly understanding of Tao, who, it has to be said, barely even understands himself for much of the show. There are a lot of scenes where Nick is trying to connect with Tao but maybe oversteps just a tad because he sees more of Tao than Tao is ready to have seen. The moment outside Charlie's house when Tao tells Nick about Elle's art college ambitions, Nick cuts through to the heart of the matter--Tao's concern about missing Elle if she's far away. Nick is the first person in the friend group to connect the dots about what Elle's college acceptance might mean for Tao, and immediately tries to help Tao process those feelings. He's met with anger, but only because he managed to hit a lightning bolt of a nerve in Tao's emotional storm.
And of course there's Imogen, who Nick has known for a long time but begins to understand and appreciate on a deeper level as their relationship moves from superficial connection to true friendship. He sees how sensitive she is, how lonely in some ways, and is always looking out for her, keeping a concerned eye on her. He gives her the space she requests, but also comfort when she lets her walls down enough to ask for it. His innate understanding of what people need--especially when what they need is just someone to be there--is impeccable.
It almost goes without saying, but Nick's emotional wavelength with his mom is similarly strong and nuanced. When Nick comes out to Sarah, he makes sure she understands how important it is to him that she knows--not only that she knows that he's bi, or that Charlie is his boyfriend, but that she knows him. That their relationship is so important to him that he can overcome his fears to share this most vital part of himself. Nick's value of Sarah extends to caring for her when she's dealing with the stress of having his dad and David around. Of course, Nick is still a teenager and there are a lot of scenes that show Sarah's deft handling of Nick's emotions, but it's a two-way street. Nick takes care of her in his own way too.
Nick starts his relationship with Tara and Darcy leaning on them for advice and guidance, but by the end of the show they're leaning on him. Nick sees their struggles, especially Tara's, possibly more clearly than anyone else does because he recognizes some similarities between their situation and his with Charlie. When they're in trouble, he knows Tara needs care and honest advice, even if it's not the most comforting advice. He knows that what they both need is strength and security and tries, in his careful way, to give them those things.
Nick Nelson, always looking out for everyone he loves, keeping them safe as much as he can, hugging them when he can't.
#golden retriever with a heart of gold#nick can read between the lines#and read the room#heartstopper#heartstopper netflix#heartstopper series#nick nelson#alice oseman#osemanverse#narlie#nick x charlie#nick and charlie#charlie spring#joe locke#kit connor#tao x elle#tao and elle#tara jones#darcy olsson#tara and darcy#corrina brown#kizzy edgell#will gao#yasmin finney
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boynextdoor and their love languages
warning: some suggestive parts, use of real names (riwoo only)
sungho
receiving: quality time, acts of service
𓍯 his type of quality time is visiting new places with you. so he really appreciates it when you call and tell him "let's eat at this restaurant. i heard it's a really good place!" and he'd agree immediately.
𓍯 he gets so excited when he sees your contact name popping on his phone screen because he knows it's call time! he'd answer it on the first ring! when he's busy, he'd call you back immediately and would spend at least an hour talking on the phone
𓍯 loves it when you cook his favorite dish! since he loves affirming you, he always tells you to cook it again for him because apparently, you cook better than a renowned chef.
giving: acts of service, words of affirmation
𓍯 surprises you with bubble baths after a long tiring day. "prepared this for my girl because she has to save up all her energy for tonight."
𓍯 you rely on him opening tightly sealed jars and it actually turns you on. "babe, can you help me open this?" and it was as easy as flicking an ant for him.
𓍯 "i care for you. is there any way i can help?" // "everything's alright, babe. everything's okay because you have me. i'll always be here, hm?"
riwoo
receiving: words of affirmation
𓍯 really really loves affirmations! he gets so red and shy though.
𓍯 he loves it when show expression of appreciation for his work/performance. everytime you say "it was a really nice performance, sanghyuk! you did so well." he'd throw pumches in the air out of excitement and satisfaction.
𓍯 but he would easily get hurt when you talk to him in a low voice or no emotions at all because it makes him overthink :c pls don't raise your voice at him too! he will tear up.
giving: quality time, acts of service
𓍯 to him, giving you 20 minutes of his time means giving you 20 minutes of his life. he values time with you so much.
𓍯 fond of doing your skincare at night OMG. for quality time, he loves doing facial masks together while laying in bed. he'd then start bringing up the first time he met you and tells you how in love he is with you.
𓍯 since he loves affirmation, you'd tell him "oh look at this pretty boy doing my skincare." while he soothes your face with the moisturizer he just applied on your skin, and then he would press his lips together to hide his smile. because of that, he's peck your kiss as his way to appreciate your words.
jaehyun
receiving: physical touch
𓍯 he loves being babied when it's time to go to bed. he loves it when you pull him closer to your chest and cuddle him 'til you hear his cute snores.
𓍯 have i mentioned he loves being babied? because he really likes it when you're all over him, when you grab his face, when you ruffle his hair.
𓍯 "can i get my kiss later?" he would plead at you in the middle of his work. "of course! i'll give you lots of it when we get home. so please just focus on your work for now, alright?" your mouth curved into a smile. "can you give me 100 kisses later?" he couldn't be any cuter when he asks for kisses from you. "i'll give you thousands, jae." you answered. "we'll have to make out then..."
giving: physical touch, acts of service
𓍯 definitely the "after you, my lady" type when opening the door for you.
𓍯 the touchiest of them all! like he wouldn't allow it at all if your knees or feet are not touching under the table during dinner.
𓍯 would get whiny if you sit across him on the table and not beside you. "hey, what's wrong? why are you sitting there? your seat is here." he said as he pats on his lap, giggling like a child.
taesan
receiving: physical touch
𓍯 whenever he does something worthy to be proud of, he would lean his cheek closer to you and tap it with his pointer finger so you could kiss it. you always end up giving him more than what he asks!
𓍯 nothing's more important than holding him when he cries. he rarely cries but this one time he got so vulnerable after a tiring day, he never found a greater comfort than being in your arms.
giving: gifts, quality time, physical touch
𓍯 “my parents aren't home.” he'd chuckle on the other line of the call. you knew what he was trying to imply.
𓍯 he has this hobby of giving you hand-picked flowers!! "would you like me to get you daisies next time? alright, i'll look for daisies next time." he ends up taking all the flowers in your neighbor's garden because he found it as pretty as you.
𓍯 a big spender. doesn't mind of the price as long as he buys it for you.
𓍯 always loves burrying his face on your neck for no reason at all. also, 100% thigh grabber!!!
leehan
receiving: words of affirmation
𓍯 his eyes light up whenever you tell him you remember the things you've done with him, things he likes, and foods you've eaten together even if they happened a long time ago.
𓍯 he gets really emotional when you tell him you don't take him for granted :c
𓍯 both of you loves writing letters for each other especially when it's handwritten. he thinks it means a lot when you spend time writing about him the traditional way.
giving: acts of service, words of affirmation
𓍯 rather than sexual activities, he's more into giving you head pats, combing your hair, rubbing your arms as a way of intimate touching.
𓍯 for leehan, communication is the very essence of a loving relationship. he always seeks understanding and reconciliation every after an argument. "can you tell me how i made you feel like you're being too much? i promise you were never too much for me. let's talk about it, babe."
woonhak
receiving: quality time, words of affirmation
𓍯 he's the type to get discourage easily with the feedbacks he's getting. so you telling him that he's doing a really great job is very important to him.
𓍯 he likes having talks with you after his schedule, where you'd sit in front of the tv without actually watching the tv, and would proceed to talking about each other's day.
giving: quality time, gifts
𓍯 you're That important to him he'd let himself lose the game when you suddenly call out of nowhere just so he could accomodate you. "i'm out guys, i'll be talking to my girlfriend. have fun!"
𓍯 giving gifts = symbol of thought. but he's kinda playful with it. "got that for you because it reminded me of you." and then it's an adorable mushroom plushie because he knows you can't eat mushroom. he would laugh saying, "i know you'll never get to eat mushrooms but at least you can keep that for a lifetime!"
𓍯 proximity ≠ togetherness. when you're together, he always ensures you're included and never forgotten. he doesn't take your presence for granted and makes sure you do things together.
𓍯 this one's really really cute but i definitely see him as the type who would spend time on youtube learning how to make diy gifts for you!
requests are open! i'd gladly work on it if you want me to write something ^__^ comments/reblogs are highly appreciated <3
#boynextdoor riwoo#boynextdoor sungho#boynextdoor taesan#boynextdoor jaehyun#boynextdoor#boynextdoor fanfic#boynextdoor x reader#boynextdoor imagines#riwoo x reader#riwoo#sungho x reader#sungho fluff#myung jaehyun fluff#myung jaehyun#leehan#boynextdoor leehan#myungjae x reader#taesan fluff#han taesan#taesan x reader#woonhak#woonhak x reader#woonhak fluff#leehan fluff#leehan x reader#chewnotchoke
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mind over matter pt. 3
synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.
content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk
a/n: yooooo, finally an update!! thanks for waiting everyone~ i actually took a small break because my friends and i had a beach outing and that was great!
previous / masterlist / next
you feel like you had the longest dream in your entire life the moment you slowly open your eyes and reveal the white plain ceiling with matching beeping sound coming out from the machine.
it takes a second or two to realize that you're in a hospital.
like a seemingly newborn, your half lidded eyes traveled across the room until it reached the sight of some peculiar white haired male with his face buried on your arm, sleeping uncomfortably while sitting on the cold hard chair.
you could feel your whole body ache when you tried to move some parts of your body to stop it from numbing when you noticed some kind of empty feeling—like something was missing.
it did not take you a while to realize that your stomach feels so empty right now, and you know it's not because you're hungry, but because you couldn't feel your baby anymore.
an anguish screech escapes from your mouth when you realize that the baby isn't part of your body anymore. tears stream like a waterfall as your body automatically sits up and hugs your lower body, specifically your stomach, because you cannot accept the fact that your baby has been taken away from you.
this immediately woken satoru up and started to console you. “hey, hey, y/n! i’m here. i'm here.” his voice was soft and comforting but there's a hint of shakiness due to your sudden outburst.
“satoru, my baby! i can't feel my baby! my baby is gone!” as an upcoming loving mother, it hurts you so bad that you'd rather die than to accept this.
the sound of the machine keeps on loudly pulsating, meaning that your heart rate is rising quickly and it's dangerous for you to get stressed since you just came out from the operation.
“y/n! the baby is fine. our baby is fine. they were being cured by the best doctors so don't worry.” pulling your body close to his, satoru caresses your hair and keeps on murmuring some comforting words to calm you down.
but it seems that his actions were no avail when he saw your lower stomach bleeding. feels like his own blood had disappeared, his pale face becomes more paler when your extreme sadness cry turns to extremely painful cry.
his body seemingly moves on its own and presses the button to call for help while still managing to calm you down.
“where's my baby? g-give me back my baby! satoru, do something!” it pains satoru to see you like this. a whole crying mess who cannot even digest the fact that her baby was in intensive care so they can become better.
suddenly, the door in your room opened, revealing the doctor and their nurse—shoko was there too. they immediately inject you with midazolam to calm you down and it works almost instantly. satoru watches your body go limp as your wound continues to bleed.
satoru and shoko were instructed to wait outside as they transfer you to another room to tend your wounds. after you were scouted to exit the scene, satoru fell on his knees and leaned his back on the wall.
god, what did you do to deserve this kind of thing?
letting out a soft sob, satoru prayed once again—something that he just learned yesterday. he prayed that all of your pain, burden, suffering, and all must disappear because satoru couldn't list any single reason why you must suffer like this.
“you should go back at least for now, gojo. i’ll handle things here while you freshen yourself up.” shoko suggested but satoru just shook his head, refusing to leave your side.
“don't be a fucking stubborn. you still have other things to do, don't forget that.” shoko hissed.
“but i need to be by her side. i need to be there to support her whatever i can.” satoru slowly let himself up and looked shoko straight in the eye.
“do you think she still needs you to be by her side? oh please, not after what you had done.” the doctor rolled her eyes as she toys with the unlit cigarette on her lips.
for some reason, satoru was having a deja vu, it was like they're in her clinic once again and they argue where you heard things that you shouldn't have. as much as satoru would like to shut her down, he's worried that you might hear him say nasty things that he didn't mean to say.
“shoko, please…i know you're mad at me and you wanted to be hostile towards me. i actually don't care if you hurt me or insult me, just not now. i need to stand by her side and i don't need you to tell me what to do.” satoru stood up and his gaze on shoko became hard.
the doctor just tsked and decided to drop the conversation for your sake. there's a whole silence in the atmosphere when satoru suddenly thinks about your little breakdown earlier. you're looking at your child and he is too. he really wants to go to the baby but he thinks it would be better if the two of you are together.
satoru was excited to see his baby, sure. but something inside stirs up something that he personally couldn't explain. was it because he remembers your conversation when he first knew of your pregnancy? that he found himself unable to answer your questions during that night?
but whatever the reasons are, satoru was ultimately willing to ignore it and just focus on becoming a better husband and now a new father towards his child with you.
the strongest sorcerer of his generation, the one and only satoru gojo, the pride of his clan, your husband on papers, your most hated person, your child's father—swore to himself that he will treat his son as his own flesh and blood, not as the heir that will dethrone him from being the pride.
and most of them all, he swore to himself that you will be treated way, way better than everyone, specifically and especially him. satoru will patch up the wounds that he had caused you.
but not all wounds can be treated by a mere bandaid.
an hour had passed and now you're once again in your room, but this time, you're more than calm as you finally understood the situation—thanks to shoko who patiently explains everything to you.
like right now, she's standing by the end of your bed while satoru was on his seat just like the first time you saw him in this hospital. shoko carefully and softly explained what was going on with you and gave you some sort of assurance.
“you suffered from placenta abruption which caused your placenta to detach from the inner walls of your uterus. it unables the baby to receive oxygen and nutrients with the placenta detached. that is why the doctors had no choice but to put you into a cesarean delivery so it can save both of your lives.”
“and about your baby, don't worry, they're in safe hands. currently in the neonatal intensive care unit where the baby is under process of developing it since it came out during your six months of pregnancy and is premature.” she continued.
then, shoko put a hand on your shoulder, slightly massaging it to give you some comfort. “worry not, y/n. we're not going to let anything hurt your baby. they're safe here and are guarded with blessings and restrictions so no other curses or unauthorized people could touch your child.”
all this time shoko speak, your head was hanging low and it seems like you're having a hard time digesting everything. but you still get what she meant by putting you under a cesarean because it's the only way to save you and your baby's life—which you're incredibly grateful for.
“c…can i see my baby?” your tone was quite hushed, probably because you hadn't really talked to anyone after what happened to you.
shoko gently shook her head and gave you an apologetic smile. “i am so sorry, y/n. but you need to rest first and we, the doctors, recommended you to not move too much since it can open up your cesarean stitches once again.”
to everyone’s relief, you nodded at her words, like you agreed to get better first before seeing your child.
“alright, i gotta excuse myself now. i have an appointment later this afternoon.” shoko gives you a smile before sending a knowing gaze at the man beside you, saying ‘you better not forget that you still have other things to do’ look.
“mhm. take care and thank you for helping me during all of this, shoko.” you replied tried to return the same smile but it only reached a have, you just wished she could feel your sincerity towards her.
“i don't accept thank you’s, yet. i can only accept it if i see you in a much better condition. so if you want me to say you're welcome, then get better.” her words make you giggle a little but you take that as a note.
giving you a one last smile and a secretive glare at your husband, she finally left the scene…and that leaves you two, you and your husband. silence engulfs the whole room, only the sound of your beeping monitor keeps on echoing and adds awkwardness to the atmosphere.
you take a small peak at satoru who's looking at an empty space somewhere, looking like he's in a deep thought. you're not sure if you want to talk to him or not, but taking the preceding events from earlier, you see no reason.
on the other hand, satoru was lost in his thoughts because he's trying to construct everything that he needed to say to you. he's kinda bad at impromptu when it comes to you and mostly forgot his points and other subtopics because he's being blinded by the emotions that keeps on distracting him.
satoru also noticed your small gazes towards him and it feels like you're not planning to talk to him first, so he finally initiated a conversation.
“do you feel any pain in your body?” he asked you.
however, it took you a while to answer because you're not sure if your following responses are gonna be normal, sarcastic, or not answering at all. but you choose the first one because the two other choices would most likely put you into stress and makes your healing process becomes slower.
“my tummy hurts but i'm fine…and i'm also hungry.” you replied, that's it.
satoru was glad that you're answering him…well. anyway, he smiled at you and carried on with the conversation. “if the pain gets worse or it causes you discomfort, you must tell me immediately. and about that hunger, we still need to wait at least eight hours for you to eat something heavy. but for now, you can only take liquids and…the doctor said you could eat oatmeal and eggs—maybe we should get that. the doctor also to avoid greasy food and it would take at least six weeks for you to recover, and then…what are the other things he said again?”
while satoru was busy yapping, you slowly think that he's speaking to himself more than he's speaking to you because of how concentrated he looked and it somehow brings some sort of warmth in your chest because he really tries himself to remember all of the things that the doctors had prescribed him for you.
“satoru…” you called out to him, but he's still busy talking about do’s and don'ts and keeps on going while you occasionally call his name.
“satoru.” he's still busy talking.
“...satoru?” yep, still talking.
his yappings are getting too long and you're running out of thin patience, so you hold into his arms and that makes him look at you and stop talking instantly. breathe in relief, you finally stopped him from his own shenanigans.
“i—i’m sorry, i talked too much.” satoru awkwardly chuckles to himself, but you just shrugged it off. “anyway, what is it?” he asked.
“satoru, i was wondering…how did i end up here? all i know is i was in my room, i feel my tummy hurts really bad and it got me so worried about my baby. then all of the sudden, there's blood seeping down on my legs then everything black out.” you said.
“well…” then satoru proceeds into another minutes of yapping about what happened based on what they had said to him back then. you'd understand that yuuji and megumi were planning to cheer you up by a surprise room visit when they smelled blood and that made them instantly realize that something was going on with you. so they called shoko and yaga to break into the room, and there they saw you lying in your own pool of blood.
nodding slowly, the question that was formed because of the preceding events were finally put into the end. “oh, so that's what happened. anyways, do you think yuuji and megumi could be here tomorrow? i wanted to thank them.”
“sure. i’ll come with them tomorrow. but now, let's get you some light foods so you can sleep tonight.” satoru stood up but he froze as his feet were not walking. you watch him turn back to you while you give him a confused look.
“will you be alright being alone for like…five minutes? i’m just gonna be quick and get you some food. i promise i’ll be back before you know it.” you just let him do what he wants and just continue watching him. satoru looked at you for a long seconds, rather seemingly so hesitant. but you told him you'll be fine and just do his thing, so satoru assured you once again that he'll be back then uses his teleportation.
now, you're alone (for a while) in this room. your thoughts wandered towards your baby who you knew is in the same building as yours. you really want to run towards that room where they are located but you forcefully shut yourself because it'll just make things worse. you're still in the process of healing and you want to be at your strongest when you're with your baby.
but something was still arguing inside your head. it's the desire to run towards your child and the desire to get better—
“y/n.”
“shit!”
something—no, someone was suddenly in the room. it was satoru who's pouting at you like a puppy who got lost. his sudden appearance makes the beeping machine beside you go wild as you curse out profanity because you're that shocked.
thankfully, your heart beat becomes normal again and nothing bad happens. but you'll be sure to send out a death glare to your husband who's still pouting.
“what the actual fuck, satoru?! do you want me to die of a heart attack?!” you glared at him, still your hand is at your chest.
“i'm sorry about that. but i cannot bring myself to leave you like that even for a minute.” he said.
“i told you i'll be fine. you don't need to guard me 24/7 anyway, so go and grab or do whatever you want.”
“no!” satoru whined…and that surprises you, because this might be the first time you saw him whine like a child, especially without any involvement of alcohol or sugar to activate this kind of his system. this was just a new sight to you.
“then how are you going to get some food?”
“i’ll just have them deliver it here.”
“seriously? you're going to order and deliver oatmeal and eggs?” your eyes were wide at his crazy idea. like yeah seriously, for an oatmeal and eggs? he could literally get it from a convenience store.
“what? i'm gonna order some food for myself too, you know.” he pouts, again.
“okay, you order your food online. and we'll get mine at a convenience store.”
“what? no! i told you i don't want to leave you alone.”
“then i’ll come with you. we'll go and buy my food together if you're really that worried about leaving me alone.” you said sarcastically.
“what the hell is that suggestion? absolutely not!” satoru gasps. he's so dramatic.
“well then, i’ll just starve!” you huff at him before turning your head away from him.
“i—wait, i'm sorry. i really can't force myself to be away from you. i'm just scared that when i'm gone even for just a minute, s-something might happen again and i’m not there to help you out instantly.” the sad look on his face is back, similar to what he looked like when he confronted you in the hallway.
after hearing his explanation, you turned back to him and said, “there are things that come unexpectedly. you cannot also force yourself to stick with just in case an emergency would occur, you'd be there. for all that i know, you still have other things to do, like you have your priorities.”
“but you're my priority,” he said seriously. well that caught you off guard.
“whatever, just go and get me some food.” you brush it off.
“...”
“...ok.”
the night ended with satoru eating his ordered food happily while you were still glaring at the man because he really stick to his words and ordered your food online instead of just running to a convenience store or buying the hospital once. although, it makes you wonder, how is there a plain, plain! oatmeal and a boiled egg that has been selling online?
well, whatever it is, at least your hunger has lessened and your relationship with satoru has gotten…at least a little better.
[part 4 is up tomorrow! and you know the drill, for those who would like to be added to the taglist , just comment — ©luvvixu2024]
taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @aish777 @tttttttf @username23345 @slyhersophia @netyxms @rirk-ke @lvstru @roscptalsaa @labelt-san @shinruo @yaninnaacu @testrella @sad-darksoul @kurookinnie @mountvesuvu @chwesuh-imnida @cole-silas @elernity @buttermilktea11 @berenevenstarzetaestelar @maddie-jayne @yozora7154 @kawaiivillainess98 @jiupark @forourpoets @aishies-stuff @numblytemporary @souyasplushie @hotsauce247 @catarinemirandax @aerithsthingss @h1gh4ru @ssetsuka @jskodn @khoiyyu @the2ndl @veryverysadauthor @vebbiewuzhere @kouyoumarryme @dreamyescapesfromreality @local-mr-frog @haesify @openthenyoor01 @blkmystery @slowlyshycomputer @babybarbs12 @thickemadame @bleppt @leavem3al0n3 @arminloverlol @roscpctals99 @megumisthirdog @shirabane @skepticalleo @sheismaryy @tragicgirl444
a/n: istg guys i'm trying my hardest to get y'all tagged but some really did not appear when i @ your blogs huhu. but don't worry, that won't stop me from tagging y'all, so i am just going to manually mentioned you on every chapter update ;)
#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen#anime#jjk gojo#fanfic#luvvixu
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https://www.tumblr.com/forrest-onfire/749854472357953536/so-ive-got-the-date-night-redux-mod-for-sdv-and
saw this and thought of you immediately!! it sounds so cute
ᴀ/ɴ: First of all, thank you SO MUCH for thinking of me! I tried my best with this one, and I hope you will enjoy it! I think I got a little carried away, hehe...
Thank you for your time and thoughts, love!
ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam (SDV) x Fem!Reader
ᴡᴄ: 4182 words.
ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sloppy sex, unprotected sex, teasing, despair, semi public sex, Sam still has a dick piercing (fight me), drool, biting, mentions of oral (male receiving)
☾ ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ☽
Being a farmer was in direct relation to being incredibly busy. Getting up early every morning; caring for all the hungry mouths that needed to be fed, tending to crops that either required watering or harvesting. Sure, your husband, Sam, was often of great help, getting up even before you to give you a hand, but that didn’t mean you could just relax for the rest of the day. A livelihood needed to be made, after all.
Sadly, being a farmer also meant that you hardly ever had time to come up with ideas for dates. You tried really hard to compensate for that with thoughtful gifts or tasty dinners for your husband, yet still, sometimes you wished it was different.
That was also why your heart had leaped in your throat when Sam stopped you as you were just about to leave the house. Green-blue eyes sparkling at you with the excitement they always held when he came up with a new project or idea as he asked you on a date to camp out in the woods. “I will get everything ready; you and your cute ass just have to show up,” he had smiled.
And how could you have said no to that? There was no way in hell you could have done that either way, but now he underlined his words with that cute little pout he used when he tried to convince you of something (often of something stupid, you had to admit).
Instead, you had wrapped Sam in a tight hug and kissed his cheek, then his lips as you said yes, leaving the man on the porch with a bounce in your step.
And really, Sam was so proud of himself for coming up with the idea. It was going to be perfect, he found. So right after you had vanished in the barn to begin with your daily routine, he shouldered the heavy backpack that contained everything he would need to make his way to Cindersap forest.
He chose the spot close to the river, making sure to be far enough from both Leah’s and Marnie’s homes – after all, he wanted you all to himself tonight.
He dropped the rucksack to the earthy ground, excitement rushing in his veins when he pulled out the bag that contained the tent. The user manual was the first thing that smiled at him when he opened the sack, but why would he, Sam, need a user manual? It was just a tent, after all. Pitching it would be self-explanatory, right? And besides, how hard could it be? Those wilderness explorer kids he sometimes saw on TV could do it, so…
It turned out that it was way fucking harder than it looked and those wilderness kids were probably a scam. At least that was what Sam’s bruised ego would have liked to believe, given the fact that he had dropped the metal bars on his toes more than once already and that he had even gotten himself caught in the canvas that was supposed to offer the two of you shelter tonight. Sam was huffing and puffing as he finally managed to untangle himself from the fabric, sweat glistening on his forehead. Where the fuck was the user manual when he needed it? He lifted the canvas again, only to be met with the pile of metal laughing at him. Why did a tent even need this many bars? It was a tent, not a mansion, for fuck’s sake! What had he been looking for again? Right, the manual. He lifted the backpack off the ground, letting out a relieved huff as he saw the booklet resting right beneath it. He was just about to reach out for it, yet a gust of wind proved itself to be faster. The booklet was picked up by the invisible force and dropped in the cool of the river. As if to add insult to injury, Sam was able to watch it drift along the stream, slowly vanishing out of his field of vision.
Exhausted, he allowed himself to drop on his butt, hollering as the hard metal bars met his tailbone. What the fuck was this tent’s problem? He got up again to give it a good kick, just to regret it when his toes actually hit the hard material – even he had to admit that he could have guessed that outcome.
A glance at his phone revealed that it was nearing ten AM, and the tent didn’t even have the decency to be halfway pitched. The blond decided that harder measures were needed.
Pulling out his phone again, he searched for the only solution he could think of:
“Dad? Can you teach me to pitch a tent?”
Sam’s father had appeared surprisingly fast, and after getting the first few questions out of the way -very good questions, admittedly, like why he was trying to pitch a tent at ten in the morning, and where the manual was –, the tent found its master. Kent was quick in setting it up; it didn’t even take him half an hour. Sam was watching in disbelief as his father worked because he made it look as easy as it seemed on TV.
“We will practise that again,” Kent offered, smacking his son on the back affectionately. “So you don’t need to call me out here again.”
A grin was plastered on the otherwise stern face. “Treat her well tonight.”
Sam was left blushing in the Cindersap forest as Kent made his way back home, the blond staring at tonight’s shelter. “Why the hell wouldn’t you act that way for me?”
After staring some more daggers at his newfound mortal enemy, your husband decided there was no more use in crying over spilled milk. You would arrive in about six hours, and Sam wanted this to be perfect. He carefully put up the fairy lights he had brought before he began working on the fireplace for tonight. He had brought a pot and some veggies, hoping he would be able to make a good stew for later. The rest of his plan was executed more smoothly, especially since he didn’t have to make a fire from scratch but instead had the support of his lighter.
“Sam, wow,” a voice, so soft, so full, completely in awe came from behind him. He quickly dropped the ladle he had used to stir the stew, turning around to see the love of his life. His heart swelled in his chest, seeing you like this. You had put on a dress and Yoba did you look pretty. You always did, of course. But every now and then he had moments where the realization of just how pretty you were sunk in for him; hitting him like a ton of bricks at full speed. Sometimes it overwhelmed him, to know that you, you of all people were married to him; it made him want to kick his legs, jump around, holler out the excitement that squeezed his heart in a grip full of love. He pulled you in his chest and kissed your head, allowing himself to take in this moment and quietly thank you for showing up.
You felt so right in his arms, and Yoba, he would have done anything for you, just to see the look of happiness on your face. Just so you could catch a glimpse of how much he loved you.
“Come on, I made dinner,” he smiled, leading you to the fireplace. He pulled out two bowls from his rucksack – for once it seemed that Sam hadn’t forgotten anything – filling it with the hot stew that he had been preparing ever since he had been done with setting up. The two of you cuddled up near the fire as you took the first sip, a small moan leaving your lips at the taste. If Sam knew how to do something, he always managed to rock it. This stew was a recipe both he and you knew inside out, and yet it always amazed you how delicious it turned out when he cooked it. Sam was so full of pride and love that he felt himself ready to burst. When your head rested on his shoulder, he knew he had done everything right; and fuck, how he wanted to please you. Dinner was mostly silent aside from the sound of you humming happily as you did that little bobbing motion you always did when you were happy about food. It was those little things that had made Sam fall for you hard and that had him in an iron grip even after a year of marriage.
The bowls were long empty as the sun had finally settled in its bed behind the hills, but your head was still comfortably resting on Sam’s shoulder. The blond had his arm wrapped around you tightly, fingers brushing through your hair. He was mindlessly picking up pebbles off the ground as he held you, flicking them into the river. Some bounced across the surface, which always managed to get you to coo out in awe.
“You know, I never figured out how to skip rocks,” you murmured into the silence of the night. Sam gasped at your confession, eyes immediately snapping down to you. “You didn’t?”
“Nope. I tried once or twice, but my rocks always sank right away.”
“That will definitely change tonight.”
There was no time to protest because Sam had pulled you to your feet faster than you could have reacted. Just mere seconds later you were standing near the river, pressed up against your husband’s chest with a flat rock in your hand. Sam pulled your hand back gently, just to guide it forward, sending the rock bouncing over the water. “Oh wow, what the-“ you laughed, tipping your head back so you could look up at him. How was someone being so undeniably cute fair? “Now you try,” Sam urged, but what he didn’t expect was the feeling of your ass grinding into his dick as you suddenly bent down, picking up a rock that seemed flat enough to be skippable.
“Like this?” You asked, pulling your hand back and then twisting it forward, just like he had shown you. The rock had the mercy to bounce twice before sinking with an audible plop.
“I did it!” You called out, jumping up and down on your heels. Sam wanted to be excited for you, seriously, he tried! But the pressing and grinding of your ass against his crotch was… a distraction. One that made his cock stir against the fabric of his jeans. “You did it!” He strained, only barely able to hold back the moan at the tip of his tongue as you bent down again. This time your ass was flush against him, having his head roll back. Sam had always been down bad for you, and Yoba did you feel good. He knew you probably had figured out by now that he was hard and that this was part of a little game, but did he care?
No.
His hands wrapped around your waist, and it took him nothing but mere seconds to pull him flush into his chest again. With a strong grip on your hipbones, he thrusted forward, allowing himself to inflict friction on you this time around. His voice was husky as it met your ear, and you could feel the smile that was plastered on his lips as you shuddered against him. “I know rock skipping is fun once you’ve got it figured out, but I have got something that could be much more fun.”
“Oh, do you now?” It was a weak attempt at biting back, yet there was no way to blame you. Sam’s erection was now grinding between your legs, and you could already feel that delicious cock entering you, drooling all over your squishy walls. You could feel the metal of his piercing bump against you while he fucked into you, praising how good you took him. You could already hear his shaky little whines that always escaped him when he mindlessly and sloppily bucked his hips into you, always like a bitch in heat. It was undeniable that you could feel yourself growing wet, your clit throbbing under that arousal that ran down your spine. You hadn’t thought your teasing would bear fruit so quickly, yet your mouth was able to do much better things, you believed. Like shamelessly bellowing out that shaky moan as Sam rubbed against you much faster, with much more vigour as his hands held you to him with an iron grip. Sam’s thoughts were definitely going in the same direction, his head tipped back, your question long forgotten. He wasn’t even ashamed that he was rutting against you out in the open, illuminated by the innocence of the fairy lights he had put up just hours before. Your moans simply were so delicious, so precious. He could have fed on them for hours, starving as he was.
Usually, Sam would have taken you right then and there, not minding if your screams awoke the whole valley. Though tonight, he didn’t feel like sharing.
Sam’s body moved backward to the tent, one of his hands always staying on your hip bone, as the other simply began to tug and rip at your clothes. He simply didn’t have time to be careful with how incredibly hard he was for you, his heart thundering with both arousal and love for you.
“Sam!” You gasped out as you heard the seams of your shirt rip, but a muffled “sorry” had to suffice. After all his lips were busy kissing all over your neck as he dragged you to the tent, a set of sharp fangs sinking into your freshly exposed shoulder while his other hand worked on undoing your pants. The urgency within his movements finally made you snap into motion, the fingers that had been curling in the fabric of Sam’s blue jacket now finally working on discarding the bothering piece of clothing.
When the two of you finally stumbled into the tent both of you were breathless, and you were already half naked. Sam clumsily zipped the tent shut, before slowly turning around to you. You had already dropped to your knees on the ground, looking up at your husband with those big doe eyes of yours that he had fallen in love with. He let out a shaky breath, roughened-up palm reaching out to pin back a loose strand of hair. He had to close his eyes for a second when you leaned your head into him; the feeling of love that rushed through him was almost unbearable.
“Sam,” you suddenly cooed, your own palms reaching for the tent – that one he had been able to pitch easily – in his pants, “I...I am so wet. Please, please hurry.” It was a mere murmur, but one that sent his stomach into tight twists. He knew his cock was leaking in his boxers, the wettened fabric clung to the shaft in a way that had him embarrassed.
Sam licked his lips as he unbuckled his belt, half-opening his eyes to see the look of anticipation on your face. And really, your eyes were glued to his crotch as you rocked your own against your legs. He really was the luckiest man on earth, wasn’t he? Being gifted with a literal angel.
He allowed his pants to pool around his ankles, his boxers soon following suit. Sam almost stumbled as he tried to approach you, but your hands on his hips guided him into a steady position. The sweet smile you gave him made his pierced tip leak more globs of pre-cum – at least he hoped it was only pre-cum. He had to hold himself together, to feel your sweet, wet cunt clench around him, hug his dick like a glove. Which, again, was harder than he had deemed it to be, especially now that your tongue darted out and pressed flat against his tip, just to turn to kitten-licks in an attempt to clean him up. His breath was already shaky in his throat, and he was surprised he was able to inhale air with how tight his whole body felt already. “Fuck, babe, no- I- I asked you on a date,” he tried, lowering himself to his knees. He was surprised you didn’t whine as he took in a criss-crossed sitting position, though he soon found out it was only because you busied yourself with getting on his lap. You had pulled off your panties by now, the fabric hanging loosely between your teeth.
“Did I ever tell you how lucky I am to have you?” Sam breathed, leaning forward to grip the string of lace between his own teeth, just to drop them on his lap in favour of kissing you. The kiss was hard and sloppy, teeth clattering against teeth as your tongues licked at one another’s. The moan you two shared made Sam shiver, his cock so painfully hard this felt like the most pleasurable torture on earth. His hands reached for your pretty tits, only to find them still held up by your bra. Your husband grunted into the kiss; a sound of dismay while his hand reached around your back. You could feel his fingers work against his skin, and just seconds later your breasts bounced free. After all, if Sam had acquired a skill, he was good at it.
“Pretty, pretty wife,” he whispered against your lips, tugging on the lower one gently. “Fuck, I love you so much, baby. So, so much,” he murmured. You giggled into the silence of the night, but the sound quickly shifted into one of a moan as the blond’s lips wrapped around a perky nipple. You needed Sam; you needed him so, so badly. Your mind had been whirring for him all day, and now you could feel him; smell him, touch him. Usually, it was Sam’s patience running thin, but this time it was yours. You lifted your hips while your fingers wrapped around the base of the man’s heated up shaft, guiding the leaking tip to your drooling hole. It was like you froze Sam in place, his lips still wrapped around your nipple, but his tongue did no longer swirl around it. He was too busy moaning your name, the high-pitch in his voice only turning you on more.
Fuck, he really tried to give you the reins tonight, but you were so wet already and your pretty sweet pussy was clenching around him already, as if it attempted to pull him in. He would have been an absolute monster if he didn’t oblige! He needed to, or he would go up the wall.
“Saaam!” the whine was long and drawn out as he bucked upwards, his thribbin g dick gliding along your walls. And he had to swallow down the dryness ruling in his throat caused by that glorious sound, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down at the strained motion of his throat. He loved you. Shit, he loved you so, so much- and he simply couldn’t resist. His hips moved upwards, the stretch his length caused only making his eyes roll back. You always felt so perfect around him, and it never did not feel like a betrayal when he had to pull out of you. He could have stayed forever like this, buried to the hilt inside of your beautiful cunt. Yet your hips shifted upwards, and he could slowly feel the tightness wrapping around him so snugly vanishing. This time it was Sam who whined until he felt you slide down on him again. He had to keep himself from fucking into you whenever you lifted your hips, so his arms wrapped around your hips tightly. “That’s my girl,” he cooed, his head thrown back, just for him to crane it forward in an attempt to catch your bouncing breast. “Takin’ me so well again, aren’t you?”
His words were already slurred; feeling you around him like this just always had him so incredibly pussy-whipped. He could hear the wetness of your pussy squelching around him in protest whenever you moved upwards, and your moans just mixed so beautifully with that sound. Sam knew he was big; he knew it was always a stretch for you and that it never was easy to take him, but you just fucking did. Fucking yourself on him the way you liked, looking like an absolute goddess as you were bouncing on his lap.
The greenish blue of his eyes was filled with admiration, neigh worship spreading out in the sea of them. And the way you looked down at him – eyes holding the same love for him he felt for you, freckles of lust having them glazed over. He could have cum from nothing but looking at you, yet your pretty pussy felt so incredibly good around him, too. He barely was able to breathe as the cocktail of emotion swirled around in his blood, a trail of drool leaving at least a trace of all these feelings on your chest.
“That’s my girl, my good, good girl. Think you can- ah- think you can handle me a little faster?” The beg that was underlying in his words was obvious; Sam simply wasn’t ashamed to beg. His arms were still pressing you to his body as you rocked back and forth, your jaw slack when you felt his pierced tip bump into your sweet spot. And it felt so incredibly good around him, feeling you leak all over him, moaning out his name in a sense of pride, with so much need accompanying these pathetic little sounds.
The more high-pitched they grew, the closer you were. Sam knew it- and he just couldn’t hold back anymore. His hips snapped upwards while you rocked yours, tearing that cry from you that never failed to make his world go black. He himself was teetering incredibly close to the edge; each clench around his shaft, each begging whine of his name, each brush of your hands along his neck, soon to be followed by your lips leaving reddening spots behind; it all pushed him closer.
His thumb found your clit to rub sweet little circles on, his lower lip now bitten in an attempt to keep himself from filling you to the brim. Not yet, he told himself; he had that carnal need to make you cum first.
“Sam! Babe! Oh, fuck! I am going to- I need to-“
A sob escaped you before you could silence it by biting down on his shoulder, yet the whimper that left your husband only made the twists in your tongue tighten.
The blond wasn’t able to produce words anymore, only your name left his wettened lips. A trace of drool ran down his chin, tongue lolling out as he licked down along your cleavage, thumb unwilling to come to a halt on the throbbing bundle of nerves.
The whisper of your name, so full of…everything, simply was too much for you. The knot in your stomach snapped, making you shoot upwards and press into Sam, your thighs shaking as they wrapped around his tender hips. You were sobbing quietly while your orgasm rocked through your body like a storm tormenting the sea. You were barely even able to feel how tight you clenched around your husband, who struggled to aim his sloppy thrusts upwards.
“Saham!” You cried when his tip bullied further into you, earning a groan in response. “Fuck- shit, so tight,” he yapped, only managing one last buck upwards before he himself came undone.
Only your name left his lips in tiny whimpers as ropes of cum painted your walls, his eyes halfway closed as he tried to overcome the wave of pleasure that seemed to take a never-ending hold on him. His hips were still giving tiny thrusts upwards, unable to hold still under the pressure of his orgasm. You were still sobbing against his neck as his hips finally halted, sloppy thrusts having milked everything out of him he had. And you were full – so fucking full of your husband’s cum that mixed with yours.
Your head tiredly dropped against Sam’s chest, shaky breath nothing but an effort to ground yourself. Sam wasn’t in much better shape; his body still quivered from the orgasm that had just wrecked through him. Still, that didn’t keep him from beginning to run his fingers through your hair, tiny little “I love you”s were sent your way as soon as he had been able to find the words.
Sam kissed your head, giving himself permission to slowly drop back onto the sleeping bag that he had brought, his arms locked around you still.
The two of you lay there for a while, allowing the sounds of the night to wrap around you like a warm blanket, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.
“Take me on dates more often?”
“Fuck yes.”
#sdv#stardew valley#stardew valley fanfic#stardew valley farmer#sdv fanfic#sdv sam#fanfic#sdv sam x reader#stardew valley smut#smut#sdv sam x reader smut#sdv sam x farmer smut#sdv farmer
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A Star P2
Media - House Of The Dragon
Character - Aegon Targaryen
Couple - Aegon X Reader
Reader - Y/n
Rating - Sweet
Word Count - 748
As the night deepened, Aegon kept a watchful eye over Orion any time he so much as wiggled Aegon was there looming over the crib. Although his own eyes were tired and heavy, he diligently remained by the baby's side. When it reached the hour of the wolf, Aegon gently picked up Orion and carried him into the bedroom and gently began to awake Y/n, just as promised. He knew she must be feeling exhausted and did feel bad for waking her but he didn’t want to call the milk maid in to feed baby Orion without at least asking Y/n how she felt about it given Orion had only been at Y/n’s breast since birth. "Y/n, it's time... Orion is hungry," he said gently, his voice soft but determined.
She yawned and sat up in bed a little she rubbed her eyes and opened her arms for the baby almost as instinct,
Aegon nodded and carefully placed Orion in her arms. The baby let out soft mewling noises, clearly hungry. As she took Orion into her embrace, Aegon positioned a pillow behind her back to provide some additional support. He knew that feeding time could be physically demanding, especially after giving birth and he sat himself down on the bed ready to help out any more if needed,
she sighed and pulled down her dress, it took a good few attempts to get Orion to latch to her breast but finally the baby began to drink and she sat trying to relax but her eyes squeezed tight from the pain
Aegon watched as she struggled to nurse Orion. He could see the pain etched on her face as the baby latched on. It was evident that the process was not easy, and he felt a pang of guilt for not being able to fully understand the pain she was going through. He gently rubs her back and trying to provide some comfort. "Is there anything I can do to help, or anything you need?" He asked softly, genuinely,
"you could grow breasts that would help," she joked in her tried state,
Aegon chuckled softly, "Ah, I'm afraid that's not in my power. If I could grow breasts and feed our son, I would do so in a heartbeat." He continued to gently rub her back, offering what little solace he could provide during this moment. "I wish I could take some of this pain away from you."
"It's alright it shall only get easier," she said, "Could you fetch me a drink I should really drink when he feeds so it has time before the next feeding I don't want little boy to find the teats are tapped out,"
Aegon chuckled lightly at the request, nodding in agreement. "Of course, I'll fetch you a drink. Do you have any preferences or should I just bring you something sweet and warm?" He carefully rose from his seat, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder before making his way out of the room to fetch you the desired beverage.
"Whatever you have… but wine would be nice. Strong wine"
Aegon smiled at her request for strong wine, appreciating the straightforwardness. He quickly made his way to the nearby table and made a goblet up of strong wine. As he walked back to the room, he couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight. His wife sitting there nursing a small infant, so he hands the goblet over, "There you go... strong and intoxicating just as you wanted."
“Thank you, Your Grace,” She nodded immediately drinking about half of the goblet,
“You don’t have to call me that, you’re my wife, mother of our child,” He told her,
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, just Aegon,”
“Yes, you- Aegon.” She nodded, “Ohh all done, he wasn’t as hungry as he thought he was,” she said taking Orion away,
“I’ll take him,” he smiled happily taking little Orion again and wiping the milk from his mouth, “oh look at you, milk all down yourself,” He chuckled, “he really is like a little drunk,”
“Umm he’ll be milk drunk now, needs burping and a nap,”
“Alright, I’ll burp him and put him down. You get some more rest,”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure, you rest I’ll handle him.” he smiled kissing her cheek before he puts Orion on his shoulder and behind to burp the baby on his way back to the main part of their chamber,
“Aegon?”
“Yeah?” He turned,
“Be gentle,”
“I will I promise,”
“And… thank you,”
“You’re very welcome Y/n,” He blew her a kiss before closing the bedroom door,
#hotd smut#hotd fanfiction#hotd fandom#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd aegon#hotd imagine#hotd season 2#house of the dragon#aegon smut#aegon ii targaryen#king aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon the second#aegon ii#aegon targaryen#house targaryen#house of targaryen#house of the dragon season 2#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon aegon#aegon fanfic#Aegon imagine#house of the dragon aegon targaryen
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CASTIEL
I'm sorry, Dean, but I warned you not to put that thing back inside him.
DEAN
What was I supposed to do? Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire?
CASTIEL
Let me tell you what his soul felt like when I touched it. Like it had been skinned alive, Dean. If you wanted to kill your brother, you should have done it outright.
Another scene people use to villainize Dean for putting Sam's soul back in his body—a kind of meta I have already criticized several times. The context of this scene gets really lost in the weeds when it gets giffed. Most obviously when you actually watch the scene, it's part of a larger conversation about whether or not Sam (who's been unconscious for 10 days) is even going to wake up. Immediately prior to this bit of dialogue that always gets giffed:
DEAN
Is he ever gonna wake up?
CASTIEL
I'm not a human doctor, Dean.
DEAN
Could you take a guess?
CASTIEL
Okay. Probably not.
DEAN
Oh, well, don't sugarcoat it.
Dean asking Cas questions ("Will he wake up?") that Cas doesn't have the answers to is also a thing Cas hates. He likes to avoid questions he doesn't have the answers to by flying off when he can (ex: 5.01, 6.03) or not showing up in the first place (ex: 6.03, 6.06). And all those moments this season have been in regards to questions about Sam's soul... because it's a sore subject in a way we can only realize retroactively after finishing 6.20 "The Man Who Would Be King" where we find out Cas is the reason Sam came back wrong to begin with.
In this scene, Cas thinks Sam isn't going to wake up, and he just felt his soul and saw what a terrible state it's in, and secretly, he sees this as his fault. If Cas hadn't fucked up, Sam's soul, just like his body, would have been back to the earthly realm within a week of Sam going to hell. Because he fucked up and missed something that probably feels painfully obvious in hindsight, Sam's soul spent a year in hell being "skinned alive" as Cas describes, while his body walked around fucking everyone around him over—including Dean who this was supposed to be for. It's his fault that Sam came back soulless. It's his fault that while soulless, Sam hurt people and used Dean and nearly killed Bobby. It's his fault that Dean got so desperate he put Sam's soul back in. It's his fault that Sam's soul is damaged like this because he's the one who accidentally left it behind (and making what in hindsight must feel like such an obvious mistake must be infuriating).
Cas was able to avoid the soulless Sam problem as long as Cas wasn't around. From afar, he could just say "good enough" to have Sam's body around even though he knew Sam was off and was secretly bothered by his behavior (6.06, 6.10). By putting Sam's soul back in his body, Dean unwittingly made the reminder of Cas's mistake unavoidable.
Cas wanted to bring Sam back to make Dean happy, but he fucked it up, and Dean faced the fallout and (tried to) clean up the mess, which probably stings. In the process, Dean was in danger and (by bargaining with Death) put himself in further danger—the number one thing Cas has been trying to avoid since watching Dean rake leaves— which probably stings. Dean asked Cas to touch Sam's soul and then Cas had to directly feel what his careless mistake meant Sam suffered through which definitely stings. And there isn't even a consolation prize here of "well at least I got his body out" anymore because (unwittingly) Dean is telling him “well your fuck up consolation prize wasn’t good enough”. Cas wants to convince himself soulless Sam could have been enough and HE isn’t the one that created Frankenstein’s Monster—Dean did—but Cas knows that isn’t true deep down. In his head, he ultimately created this situation and this incongruous Sam and all the fallout is on him. Sam wakes up and prays to him and Cas immediately shows up with no ulterior motives like an ancient weapons (such as in 6.03 or 6.06 or 6.10). He shows up purely because Sam is awake and alive and his soul is in his body and he's OKAY despite all the damage resulting from Cas's major fuck up and it's such a relief Cas forgets all the awkward interactions they had in season 5 and tries to hug him.
#6.12#season 6#pk rewatches spn number ?#sam and cas tag tbd#and cas is my best friend#castiels motivations
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So I read @stereobone wartime drag au (losing my mind, by the way) and it got me thinking about a modern mota au where Gale is a drag queen at the club where John is a go-go dancer
A little drabble below the cut
John really needed a job. At this point, he was willing to do anything for some money, but he never suspected that Curt would come to him with a go-go dancing position at a nearby club. John was hesitant at first; he didn't know much about the club scene or dancing in general. Curt reassured him, though, that the dancers and the "girls" would help him feel more comfortable and make him feel at home.
John's first couple of days dancing were not... uncomfortable, but were enjoyable and fun at the end of the night. The tips, and the drinks, were flowing and John would feel emboldened more and more at the end of each night. The other go-go dancers, Douglass, Hambone, and Demarco, quickly accepted John as a dancer and started cracking jokes with him. Everyone, including Curt, kept mentioning "the girls" when talking to John about advice, but every time he just laughs along like he understands. There were no female go-go dancers at this club, at least that John knew about, so he just pretended to know what was going on when the other dancers mentioned them.
One night, the club was buzzing more than usual, and the dancers were kicked out of the large dressing room they usually occupied. John started to fuss, complaining that his pre-show ritual was ruined (AKA drinking four shots and flirting with anyone with a pulse) and that he wouldn't get as many tips as usual. Douglass overhears his whining and laughs out loud.
"Don't expect that many tips tonight. It's all going towards the girls,"
John finally snaps, frustrated that he still doesn't understand these mysterious "girls" everyone was talking about.
"Who are 'the girls'! Jesus, all I hear about is how amazing they are and I don't fucking know who they are!"
The dancers in the dressing room look at John almost incredulously. Hambone is the first to break and burst out laughing.
"Come on, Bucky. It ain't that serious. There's a big drag show every Saturday, and we call them 'the girls'. You'll meet them tonight,"
John shifts in his chair and shrugs his shoulders dejectedly. He's ashamed he didn't suspect that drag queens would frequent a gay club; he's seen some patrons in drag before. He just never suspected that the spotlight would be off of him.
----
John danced like he normally did that night, not wanting to let "the girls" distract him. He didn't really know what to expect when it came to the drag show; he had never been a part of the club scene before he was thrown into it as a dancer. After the first number of flipping and splitting to high energy songs, John found he was able to tune it out easily enough. After the fourth girl threw herself off the stage into the crowd, John rolled his eyes and kept up with his routine.
During the break after a particularly violent lip sync, John is too busy grabbing the tips by his feet that he barely notices the lights dimming on the stage. He notices when he stands up to start his routine again that the music has slowed to something sultry and sensual. It grabs his attention and he turns towards the stage. The other dancers in the club have stopped dancing, and John notices that they're all turned to the stage, also entranced by the sudden change in energy.
The red curtains are closed and a long, pale, leg shoots between the fold and a slender, nailed hand delicately traces the length of it. The music crescendos and the curtain is thrown open by a queen that John is almost immediately entranced by. They have long, slender legs, that they peek out from behind a silk white robe. Their makeup is demure, but John can still call it sexy, with bright blue eyes that pierce through the crowd. It didn't look like they were wearing a wig; their soft blonde curls gently falling over their forehead.
John cannot take his eyes off of the performer and ignores the shiny grin that Hambone throws him from his dancing podium.
The music is sexy and makes something stir deep in John's stomach. The queen's piercing eyes roam the crowd and land on John, winking and keeping their gaze trained on John's face. The music slows and they throw the silk robe they're wearing towards John and it lands at his feet. He takes it in his hands and the queen keeps their eyes trained on him as they walk down the stage stairs towards John. The robe reveals a stoned bodice that show off the queen's legs and arms. They're obviously feminine, but have the strength and masculinity that intrigues John.
The queen stops in front of John's dancing podium, extending a slender hand towards him in an invitation to pull them up. John obliges, bringing the slender queen up to the narrow podium and pulling them against his chest. The queen gracefully pulls a bill from John's back pocket and places it between his teeth. They take John's hands and place it on the back of their bodice.
"Why don't you take it off of me, honey?" They ask, voice uncharacteristically low and husky.
John almost gasps, taking the dainty zipper in his hands and pulling it downward. The bodice falls to the floor, and reveals a thin, slender body with a white panty hugging their slim waist. The queen leans in towards John's face and he holds his breath, thinking that they're going to kiss him. They demurely grab the bill in between John's teeth with their own front teeth, taking it into their mouth. A similar feeling stirs in his stomach as the music finally slows to stop and the queen turns to the audience and poses against John like he's part of the scenery.
The audience cheers raucously as the host comes back on the stage and announces the next performer. The queen looks back at them almost nervously, which makes John's stomach turn. After the whole performance, it appears the queen only has the sultry behavior while the music is playing.
John bends down and hands the white robe back to them.
"What's your name, doll?" John asks, purposely grazing his hand against the queen's.
They flush, uncharacteristically, and throw the robe over their shoulders.
"Gale," They say simply.
John chuckles, helping Gale down from the podium.
"Well, Gale, that isn't quite the name for someone as beautiful as you, is it?" He says.
Gale glares at him playfully and still hasn't let go of John's hand.
"Well why don't we go back to my dressing room and talk about names there, huh?" Gale says, the familiar flirtatious tone back in his voice.
He turns and looks over his shoulder, gesturing his head towards a door that exits the club, and John follows him like an infatuated puppy.
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🏒one piece/zosan hockey au (part 6)🏒
mishanks
- these two are coaches for Starwhats team
- they are kinda sorta divorced…
- no one in the team knows they were married
- and when they found out, oh boy, Mihawk was furious he didn’t want to talk about it and didn’t answer any questions
- Shanks on the other hand LOVES talking about Dracule and their years together
- so every time when anyone from the team or staff asks him about it he won’t shut up
- (ok let me tell you how they met)
- they met during one of the games, their teams were opponents, Shanks immediately noticed a very mysterious looking guy on the other side of the court
- and he never before had so much trouble concentrating during the game
- at one moment the crushed into each other (Shanks crushed into Mihawk)
- and everything stopped…
- and here they are, Mihawk laying on the ice and Shanks on top of him SMILING AND BLUSHING
- “sorry, pretty, wanna get a drink after this game?” “no?…” “come on, we’ll have nice wine and dinner😩” “alright. but i’ll choose the wine.”
- and next playing season they are married and kissing during games and filling documents for adoption
- they have two daughters, Uta and Perona, they are at high school rn
- Uta lives with Shanks and Perona with Mihawk
- but they go to same high school (that means they live pretty close)
- Mishanks are good dads!!
- always attend parents meetings and know everything about girls
- it is confusing why they divorced, i’m not sure they know it themselves
- but they still act like old married couple
- always have presents for each other’s birthdays (it helps that their bdays at the same day), have meals at least once a week with daughters, go on family holidays together, sometimes spend weekends together (movie nights with girls and often stay at each other’s houses afterwards)
- one time Luffy and Usopp found photos of them kissing on the internet and asked camera man to film them during kiss cam
- they didn’t notice it at first, but when they did…
- Shanks was ready to make out with Mihawk in from of whole stadium
⬇️previous parts⬇️
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
#one piece hockey au#one piece fanart#one piece fluff#one piece zosan#one piece sketches#one piece au#one piece#procreate#fanart#artists on tumblr#art#my art#mishanks#dracule mihawk#akagami no shanks#red haired shanks#shanks#shanks x mihawk#mihawk x shanks#uta#perona#ワンピース#mishanks headcanons#one piece headcanons
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I’m obsessed with this blog so much!!!
What about amira was bored and decided to bake the grid baked good, save to say they are more in love or adore her more
OK.. sooo.... the Pierre and Kika part turned kind of smutty (I loved writing it). I hope you enjoy reading and let me know if you have any requests.
-XoXo
I like you, have a cupcake🧁
It truly was a scene out of a fairytale. Amira, dressed in a beautiful green gown with matching makeup, carried a basket brimming with Ferrari cupcakes. Little did most people know that her true passion lay in baking.
With an exuberant grin, she entered the paddock and spotted Lewis and Fernando. Skipping over to them, she called out, “Lew-Lew, Nando. Guess what?” The two men exchanged grins, eagerly asking, “What?” Amira proudly presented her cupcakes: one adorned with a tiny racing helmet for Nando and another shaped like a car for Lewis. Their awe was palpable as they stared at her creations. “Go on, try them,” she urged, nervously playing with her hair.
After the first bite, the two world champions showered her with praise. With kisses on their cheeks, Amira sought out her other friends. Max, Key, and little P were next. P, with her innocent curiosity, asked, “Aunty Ami, what’s in your basket?” Amira replied, maintaining a serious tone, “Well, my lovely gato, this magical basket holds cupcakes for you, your Mama, and your Papa.”
Kelly and Max, overhearing the sweet exchange, approached. Max hugged Amira tightly, while Kelly planted a brief kiss on her forehead. As she distributed the cupcakes, they all savored the magical treats. Max leaned down to Penelope’s height and whispered, “At least one of your Mamas can bake.” making him share a meaningful glance with Kelly.
After a sweet goodbye and a promise for dinner this weekend Amira ran to Kika and Pierre. Before she could run two far, a pair of strong arms picked her up from the ground. She immediately realised who it was. "Pierre, let me down" she laughed. Kika and Pierre were giggling with her, immediately crowding her against the wall. The two of them really had no limit. After sharing two kisses with Kika and Pierre on the lips, because according to them this is how close friends greeted each other in Farnce and Portugal, she told them a bit breathless about her creation. "Oh Babygirl, you are truly an angel" whispered Pierre in her ear while Kika slowly kissed her neck. Pierre took a bit of the cupcake cream, smeared it on Amiras lips and kissed it off of them. "Mmmmhhh, amazing" he whispered. He held the cupcakes up for Kika, who did the exact same thing. While Kika was cleaning Amira from any excess creme (kissing her breathless) Pierre brushed his hands over her body and kissed her temple.
Before the situation could escalate anymore, the little group got interrupted from Pierre team principal. "You know, babgirl. If you come over to us tonight, Pierre and I can show you the real way to use whipped cream in the bed" Kika said to her with a predatory glint in her eyes. "The real way?" asked Amira naively. "Ohh amour, we have a lot of learning to do."
Amira, having settled down from her playful escapade with Pierre and Kika, continued distributing cupcakes. As she encountered George, Alex, Lily, and Carmen, she offered each of them a sweet treat along with a warm hug, saying, “One for you.” Lily couldn’t help but exclaim, “This girl is too good for this world,” a sentiment echoed by the other three.
Amira followed the same approach when giving Oscar and Lando their cupcakes. However, the two papaya drivers weren’t willing to let her go so easily. They convinced her to play a round of Monopoly, which was really just an excuse to keep her company.
As for Carlos and Charles, after the race, they discovered picture-perfect cupcakes waiting in their drivers’ room. Attached were two heartfelt notes. If the two of them shed a few tears after reading Amira’s encouraging messages, well, that was their little secret.
#formula 1#baby!sainz!sister#amira sainz#lewis hamilton x reader#fernando alonso x reader#max verstappen x kelly piquet x reader#pierre gasly x kika gomez x reader#george russel x carmen mundt x reader#alex albon x lily minu he x reader#charles leclerc x reader#carlos sainz x sister!reader#formula 1 x reader#lando norris x reader#oscar piastri x reader
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