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#but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt so badly
justauthoring · 17 hours
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a promise he'll keep.
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requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room
a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon! also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!
tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence
pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav
blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.
armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.
long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.
your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.
it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.
you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.
but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.
painfully.
"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"
you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.
astarion's face falls.
taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.
his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.
your eyes flutter shut in response.
"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."
you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."
astarion hates the way your voice trembles.
"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."
and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."
"i'm okay," you try to deny.
astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."
your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.
the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.
"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."
your hand grabs his, squeezing.
"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."
he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.
"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"
and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.
astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.
"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."
you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.
and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.
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atopvisenyashill · 2 days
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I think the point that a lot of people miss with Arya is that the approval she craves the most is of her mother. People call her pretty, including her father and Jon. But she still doesn't think she is pretty because she doesn't measure up to her mother's expectations. We know it hurts her that unlike her siblings, she doesn't look like Catelyn. Which is funny to me because Catelyn despaired that none of her children looked like Ned, except Arya. So no Catelyn did not hate that Arya didn't have Tully looks (believe me I have seen that take numerous times), rather she wanted her to take care of herself and be presentable.
Yeah like, I would say it’s even a pretty common dynamic in real life, where you have a daughter that doesn’t quite fit in and a mother who does and they talk past each other a lot of the times. It’s not to say that I don’t wish Catelyn had taken a more gentle approach to Arya, or that it’s like, an okay thing that the system they live in forces the toxicity of this situation but I think people really gloss over the fundamental aspect of this (and like,,, most) mother-daughter relationships which is that Arya wants her mother to be proud of her and Catelyn wants Arya to be prepared for adulthood. Neither of them is acting out of a bad place here and neither is motivated by anything hostile. Catelyn just feels, pragmatically, that there are certain things Arya needs to know and understand about the world and the life she’ll be expected to live. While Arya wishes her mother could conceive of a world where Arya can just be whomever she wants without being forced into a specific mold or role.
I kinda scrapped this part of that Cat & Arya meta I wrote, but I had like a whole section wherein like, Catelyn knows that The Rules Of Men allowed her a lot of power - she was presumptive heir, acting lady, and now a lady of a great seat with a husband who adores her in part because of her willfulness and fiery temper. What Catelyn wants for Arya is for Arya to have the tools she needs to succeed as a willful, fiery girl in a World Of Men, so that Arya can find a man who loves her for who she is and find freedom in her home & marriage. But because while Arya and Catelyn may share temperaments, they don’t have a lot of overlap in skills, I think Arya sees more clearly and much sooner than it’s simply ridiculous and unfair that Arya has to have this really specific skill set to be worth anything, and that what she’s “worth” to a man shouldn’t be as important as what she’s worth to herself. But like, how do you even verbalize a concept you’re only slightly aware if you’re Arya? How do you tell your mother that the skills she’s honed for her whole life in the hopes that her life as a woman in a feudal system is happy, are like, ~useless~ and have no moral value, it’s just something Cat is good at vs something Arya is good at?? I mean the whole reason i CUT that section was because i felt like i wasn’t hitting the balance of explaining and validating both WHAT IT IS Catelyn wants for Arya out of the system and also WHY IT IS that Arya chafes so badly.
Ultimately, Arya wants to want what her mother wants for her because that’s her mom, she wants to be like her mom, she wants her mom to be proud of her, and also ultimately, Catelyn wants Arya to be safe, and alive, and thinks to herself that Arya would be good at running a household, and since running a household gave Catelyn power, it’s a sweet wish that Catelyn wants to set Arya up to be someone who is great with the only power Catelyn feels she can give her. But they see the world so differently, because they are both stubborn and willful while being Incredibly different & living very different childhoods, and before Catelyn can hold Arya and assure her that she would have wanted her back no matter what, even if her hair is messy and she’s dressing like a boy, even if she never fits in and has killed people, because Catelyn loves her enough to fight against that system that has benefit Cat all those years……but it’s too late, and Catelyn is gone before she can ever say the words I know she wanted to say, the words that Arya needed to hear.
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agentark · 1 year
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whatever you do, don't imagine a young J Corvin waiting every day at the end of their drive, hoping today is the day the mail carrier finally brings a letter from their very best friend
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uncanny-tranny · 6 months
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I think the thing about the way people conceptualize empathy is... when you're interacting with other people, they are going through things that, which you may empathize with, you won't always understand, partially because you're two different people, but also because not all situations are 1:1 copy-pastes that are easy to understand.
This isn't saying that empathy is useless, but that acknowledging when you relate personally to somebody and yet also recognizing that this is their struggle is important. When people pretended to empathize with me, it made me feel like I was being placated to. I felt like people were only trying to shut me up by saying that they, personally, "get it," when I knew they didn't. I just don't want people replicating that because they genuinely do want to help the people in their lives.
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sweetdreamspootypie · 10 months
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Fucked around (tried to find the non existent archived chat log on FB messenger with my ex) and found out (why did I do that)
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lord-squiggletits · 1 year
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Sorry for being negative, I’m just a bit disappointed that after looking through the Earthspark Optimus tags on and off on different occasions weeks apart, it seems like the only thing the fandom has to say about ES Optimus is finger snaps and dad jokes. :/ (And also a handful of people already trying to frame him as a bad person lmao)
Watch for it, when more episodes of Earthspark come out and a conflict with GHOST inevitably arises, people are going to be raging at Optimus for being “stupid” or “self-righteous” or “blind” for working with GHOST and start calling Megatron and/or the Decepticons right about everything because they spent so long focusing on “haha funny dad Optimus” that they forgot about the other parts of Optimus’ character like... idk, not wanting to colonize planets? Not wanting to start wars with entire species that didn’t want to be involved in the war in the first place? Being willing to make compromises even at risk to himself and his own because he wants to treat everyone fairly?
Idk I guess I’m just a bit salty because it genuinely seems like all this fandom wants is “funny dad Optimus” and nothing else. Like you will give them funny dad Optimus who’s ALSO complex and morally gray but people will only ever talk about the former part. And then when Optimus inevitably makes a mistake and bad things happen, people are probably going to treat him as if he’s stupid or an asshole when he ends up not being the Perfect Unproblematic Fave that people seemingly want him to be.
#negativity#the tf fandom has protagonist centered morality really badly#like yes we all joke/think that humans are the most boring part of transformers#but there's a difference between that as like a narrative preference in a story#versus literally acting like humans don't matter#and a lot of takes i see in earthspark and other continuities#seem to completely ignore the fact that cybertronians securing their future on earth and eliminating the people who want to do them wrong#would literally mean stealing resources from humans and killing them aka COLONIZING THEM#so i see people calling OP a bad leader or stupid or overly trusting for working with GHOST when he's literally no such thing#he explicitly says 'we are guests on this planet' and acknowledges that he sees GHOST merely as his best option and doesn't fully trust them#but ppl in this fandom have a really infantile perspective of optimus#where they want him to be Good All The Time or they just see him as an idiot for some reason#so they see OP making compromises to not hurt humans (people who didn't even want to get involved with cybertron's war)#and theyre like durr hurr he's stupid! he's ignorant! he's an asshole to the decepticons!#no he's not he's literally just trying to not hurt innocent people? and he has to balance both human lives and cybertronian lives#and that's fucking hard and there are no perfect options and there are no outcomes where no one will get hurt#and the existence of those bad choices doesn't make optimus stupid or malicious#it makes him a FUCKING PERSON#trying to navigate a HARD SITUATION and do the right thing#but we can't have optimus being an actual character who behaves like a human being#he has to be perfect daddy prime that does nothing wrong ever and if he does he's a STUPID ASSHOLE ugh
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katz-chow · 3 months
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sorry sex with simon
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warnings: pnv, fem!reader, fluffy, edging/denial, msub, fsoftdom
simon doesn't know how to apologize besides throwing himself into your mercy. he loves you and can't think of any other way to express to you how never means to hurt you, how everything he does is to make sure you're comfortable and taken care of.
even after this stupid little argument that he had with you, he didn't even know why he was fighting. he just realized too late when he saw tears form in your eyes and your feet stomping off into your shared bedroom.
so here is his penance, his apology: giving you soft kisses on your shoulder as his arms hold you up over his cock.you whine and groan as his cock slips in and out of your dripping pussy. he didn't want to hurt you and he didn't want to make you feel any more discomfort so he, in turn, used more lube than he normally would. the sounds of skin slapping skin normally would have made you blush in embarrassment and cause you to curl up into him. this time around, you couldn't care less, the way he's making you feel was a clear juxtaposition to how to feel just an hour before.
you feel his breath, heavy and hot in the crook of your neck, you pussy pulses around him and over your moans, he gives you one in return. his tongue licks and sucks on your shoulder gently, "m' sorry baby...shouldn't have said that..."
you whine and wrap your arms around his neck and his back, your tits pressed against his chest, "can we...ah- can we not..." you suck in a breath, "do this right now, si? when you're in me?"
he mumbles something you can't process or hear as one of his arms unravels and goes to rub tight circles around your clit. your back arches into his touch and a loud groan of his name rings out.
"wanna show you...how sorry i am.." he pants as his dick throbs inside of you, so so close to cumming, fill you up in his sticky release. the snap of his hip dials down into a roll. he hums as he feels your body start to tense up as the tension builds in your lower stomach.
crescent indents form in his back as your nails dig in from the pleasure he's able to give you, the amount of bliss 10x as strong from the lack of such a euphoric feeling you've been feeling. his thumb rubs your aching clit just a bit harder and your groans turned into a cacophony of whimpers and high pitched squeals as your orgasm runs through you.
simon feels your body tensing up in his arms, and damn does his cock feel it too. the way your cushiony walls pulsate and clamp dowm on him, god he was hard, it was unbearable. he wanted to cum so fucking badly, been wanting to put a load in you for half an hour now but he won't let himself. he said he was showing you how sorry he was, and that's exactly what he's doing.
your breathing steadies itself and you curl up closer to him, resting your face onto the top of his head, smelling in his yours shampoo. your whines become hiccups as your high dies down, overwhelmed and tired.
"i'm sorry lovie..." he begins, his hand slipping out from between your legs and his hips start to roll his cock in and out of your raw pussy. you groaned and tense up at the overstimulation, clinging onto him.
he turns off his brain as you help him, pulling your hips up and down. he lets out a breathy moan and holds you closer, snapping his throbbing cock inyo your harder, faster. his lips on your neck as he prays to you a mantra.
"m'sorry..so sorry, lovie..." simon's close he can feel it, he just needs two words from you, that's it. he needs you to let him cum, god-seeing you sad is punishment enough, mixed with the pain of his tight balls and overly sensitive cock makes him a brainless mush.
he couldn't take it anymore as he pounds into you, mumbling messily into your ear, your scent overwhelming him- you overwhelming him. "m'sorry m'sorry...so sorry. m'sorry sorrysorrysorry...."
"it's okay, si...it's okay." god, that's all he needs as his prayers to you were answered, his mantra stops with a restrained moan, quickly turning into whimpers like a hurt puppy as you feel his thick cum fill you, dripping down his shaft.
his arms loosen the grip he has on you and you slide down his dick just a bit and he bites into your shoulder, the friction making him overwhelmed. the two of you sit like that for a bit, leaning on each other to stay upright. you don't even think simon had anything to think about.
"you okay?" you ask him, grounding him from his headless space that he had slipped to, dependent on you for everything.
you feel him nod and his arms lift you up, pulling out of you. he gives you a gentle kiss on your lips and your hands find his cheeks, wiping away his tears. "m' really sorry.."
"i know, baby...i know.." you assure him and he lays back onto the headboard.
simon riley would gladly give up his whole being for you, and luckily for him, you'll always accept it, holding him together until he stitch himself up again.
master list | letter box | main directory
stop by the letter box!
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rowarn · 8 months
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TAKING WHAT YOU NEED (m.)
tags: afab!reader, no prns, a smidgen of hurt/comfort, soft!simon as usual, established relationship
cw: wet&messy, masturbation(reader), multiple orgasms, riding him<3, u pin him down and he lets u, creampie, simons uncut bc i said so, tiny praise, overstimulation
note: i wrote this against my will it was supposed to be simon bein lazy and making u ride him and do the work and it turned into a sickening beast. please enjoy it. MDNI!
; in which ur terribly horny and neglected for simon but hes so busy and tired u have no choice but to take what u need &lt;/3
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he's been so busy lately, almost distant without meaning to. you still get the sweet little bits of affection he always gives; a kiss to your forehead, and soft hand on your back when he passes behind you in the kitchen, your hand wrapped in his while u watch tv late at night, his hand petting your hair as you lay against his chest in bed.
but you want more, you're greedy.
it's been days since he last touched you. you're not used to the dry spells, simon always willing and ready to fuck u stupid into the mattress until u cant keep your eyes open anymore.
ur fingers simply could never compare to his. he's a man who studied your body, spent the better part at the beginning of your relationship playing with you and learning what exactly made you cum the hardest and easiest -- what your favorite spots and positions were. ur fingers tired quickly, leaving you with an orgasm u knew would be better if simon was the one with his fingers buried in your pussy
what did he expect you to do, honestly? when he came out of the shower with his towel low on his hips? his back to you as he rifled through his drawers looking for something comfy to sleep in, his back muscles flexing with the movement? were you just supposed to be able to roll over and sleep, go take a shower and act as if your panties weren't sticking to you from looking at him?
you wanted him so badly that it actually brought tears to your eyes. you didn't care how silly it was; you wanted him so bad it hurt.
"si..." you whimper, unable to stop how your voice wobbled when you spoke.
his head snaps back to look over his shoulder, brown eyes wide in concern. he briskly walked to the edge of the bed where you crawled to, sitting on your knees looking up at him pitifully.
"what is it, love? what's wrong?" his eyebrows were furrowed as he cupped your cheek, thumbing over the soft skin as his eyes analyzed every inch of you for signs of injury -- a little habit he always had.
"wan' you," you whine, placing your hands flat on his chest, moving down over his stomach where his abs flexed under the ticklish touch.
he scoffs, rolling his eyes before batting your hands away, "thought you were actually upset."
he sounds a little miffed, turning his back to you again to pull out the pair of sweats he had been eyeballing. he lets his towel fall and pauses when he hears you actually whine.
he says your name low in his chest, a warning. whether he actually wants you to stop because he's not in the mood or he just doesn't want to get started with it, you don't know. but it makes you pout a little, flopping back in the bed with a huff.
you hear simon shuffling about, getting changed into the sweats before turning off all the lights, save for a little nightlight you keep on beside you until you're ready to sleep -- on the dimmer side so it doesn't bother simon while he sleeps.
he crawls into bed with a sigh, leaning over where you're still pouting into the pillows to kiss your temple.
"i'm just tired, love," he coos, no malice or annoyance to be found in his voice. his hand comes up to rub your back and you fucking whine again, making him pause, "pouting like this is a little pathetic."
he's teasing you, you can hear the huff of a laugh under his voice. tears prick your eyes again and you petulantly push his hands away to sit up. he's leaning back against the headboard, staring straight at you.
"it's not my fault you've been neglecting me!" you whine, crossing your arms over your chest.
he actually throws his head back and laughs, "neglecting you? 'cause i haven't given you dick in a few days?"
"it's been more than a few days!" you spit back. although he's taking your bratty behavior in stride, you're actually a little annoyed.
he rolls his eyes and holds back a yawn, "you'll live. just...use that little vibrator you've got, it'll get the job done."
he goes to roll over and go to sleep but you make a noise that doesn't sound like your usual pouting -- it sounds actually upset. it pauses him in his tracks and he looks at you through the dim lighting.
"it's not just that," you mumble, flopping forward to smush your cheek against his chest, "i wanna have sex because i like being close to you, si...of course it feels amazing but i like being connected with you like that....'cause i love you."
he's still for a moment before his hand finds purchase on your back, softly rubbing against you in slow circles. he hums in his chest and kisses the crown of your head.
"'m sorry, love," he coos, "didn't think about that."
"it's okay..." you mutter before sobering up and sitting up to smile at him, "u get some sleep, i'm gonna go...take a shower."
he watches you crawl out of bed and root through your drawer, pulling out that vibrator he just mentioned and slink into the bathroom. it makes his heart ache a little but he slowly lies back against his pillow. his eyelids grow heavy as he lays there and before he knows it, he falls asleep.
he wakes again when you crawl back into bed, the smell of soap still fresh and wafting off of you. you keep your back to him as you curl into yourself in that cute little way that you do. it makes him drowsily smile to himself before he closes his eyes again.
but he can't fall asleep. you begin shifting and fidgeting almost as soon as he settles, it keeps him awake. he wonders what the problem is but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth.
you roll onto your back and he hears you sigh to yourself. his eyes crack open and he sees you staring at the ceiling. you glance over at him, not seeing the way his eyes are ever so slightly open.
he watches you slowly spread your thighs and your hand slide under the blanket, watches the way your brows furrow as you begin to slowly work at yourself.
his cock twitches in his pants; as tired as he is, no man would be able to sit there like nothing was happening while watching the one he adored touch themself.
he watches you, vaguely hears the wet, sticky noises of you touching yourself. he wonders if you're just working your clit in tiny little circles or if you've maybe stuffed a finger or two inside to get the feeling of being stretched. his cock hardens even further against his thigh and the sleepiness he felt begins to melt away but he can't bring himself to fully open his heavy lids.
after a few minutes, you make a frustrated little huff and pull your hand out from under the blanket, using a tissue on your night table to wipe your fingers off before flopping back into bed. you don't make another move to touch yourself, instead stare into the very dimly lit room in what he can fully understand is frustration. he even hears your sniffle a little bit.
his heart gives a painful little tug. he watches you close your eyes and obviously attempt to fall asleep. his own cock is throbbing by now and he's sure you're uncomfortably wet.
"got a problem, love?" he asks softly, voice thick and heavy with sleep.
he sees you jump and your eyes snap open before you look at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. how cute, he thinks.
"si?" you whisper, "did i wake you? i'm sorry..."
he can actually hear the guilt in your voice as you apologize, "all your tossin' and turnin', not a man in the world woulda been able to sleep through it," you look even guiltier and he reaches out to place his hand over yours that's on your stomach above the blanket, "thought you went and took a shower to take care of that problem?"
you look almost defeated and shrug, then a look of embarrassment crosses your face and he feels the need to click his tongue and tell you none of that, but you speak before he can, "couldn't um...you know...finish..."
he's quiet when you say that. he could tell, obviously. the way you pulled your hand out of your panties and nearly cried in frustration. he huffs through his nose in a noise you mistake for annoyance and give him a sheepish, half-hearted smile.
"sorry, si," you mutter, leaning over to kiss his nose, "i'll be still so go back to sleep, 'kay?"
he watches you lean over and flick the switch to your little nightlight, plunging the bedroom into complete darkness at last. he feels you shift one last time and then nothing.
he should simply go to sleep, he needs sleep. he's got a busy day ahead of him, like always. his hard on is starting to flag from watching the sad little display of you so embarrassed and disheartened. he could easily close his eyes and drift off, get his precious z's in.
but he just can't. knowing that you're going to sleep with sticky panties and completely unsatisfied because you can't seem to make yourself cum despite how badly he knows you need it.
he sits up and leans over you, hearing you make a confused little noise before he flicks the dim little light back on. you're staring at him in confusion but he doesn't offer any answers as he grabs your arm and hoists you out of the blanket you'd nestled yourself under. you let him manhandle you until you're sitting on his lap with him laid back in his pillows still.
"let's get this off you, love," he mutters, hands sliding up the t-shirt of his that you wore.
you make another confused noise but let him strip the fabric off of you anyway, "si..? what are you doing?"
"what do you think?" he asks, shoving the blankets away from him and haphazardly tugging the band of his sweats down so his half-hard cock is freed.
"y-you should be sleeping, si, really--" he interrupts you by forcing you to stand on your knees so he can tug your panties down and off.
you're so wet that there’s a mess of stickiness that clings to the fabric, making little strings that break when he pulls them down all the way.
"fuckin' hell, love," he whispers, his cock quickly hardening completely once again against his stomach, "you were plannin' to sleep while you were this fuckin' wet?"
you look sheepish again, "w-what else was i supposed to do..?"
he grits his teeth because he knows you're right; he hadn't exactly done anything except brush you off and tell you to deal with it yourself. it wasn't like he gave you the green light to ask him for help.
"sorry, love," he whispers, cupping the back of your head to tug you down for a kiss, "shouldn't 'ave been such an ass."
"wha-?" you shake your head, "you weren't, si. you were tired and i was just bein’ too needy."
he huffs out of his nose and grabs your hips, shifting so you sit directly on top of his heavy cock. your eyes roll back a little at the feeling of his hot length against your sensitive cunt.
"nah, was bein' selfish," he mutters, "knew you wanted it 'nd i chose to sleep. you even told me you just wanted to be close with me and i shrugged it off. i've missed you too, love, you know?"
"really?" you ask softly and his heart gives that painful throb in his chest again. had you doubted him? that didn't sit right with him.
"course..." he whispers, biting his lip. he wasn't used to being vulnerable and open with his feelings, so being put on the spot while telling you how he missed you made an uncomfortable feeling stir in his chest.
quickly understanding this, you shift against his cock, grinding your hips back and forth in smooth, slow motions. it makes his head sink back into the pillow; you're so wet that you slide effortless against him, covering him in a coat of slick juices. your motions also make his foreskin slide along his length as well, making him twitch every time the leaky head is stroked.
"fuckin' hell..." he groans through gritted teeth, "c'mon love, you do the work, yeah?"
you desperately nod your head and stand on your knees, gripping his cock to line him up with your entrance. he stops you for a moment with a hand on your wrist, a little glare in his eyes.
"you need prep?" he asks, a sweet little question that makes your heart melt despite yourself.
simon was a lot to take, thick and long. he always bumped against your back wall before he even fully bottomed out. the stretch was a sting that always made you both pause until it went away lest it hurt too much to continue.
you shake your head, "i-i used the toy and my fingers...earlier..." you remind him.
his grip on your wrist slackens at that and you take the chance to slowly and carefully sink down on him, jaw dropping open at the feeling of being stretched so fully by him after however many days.
you're greedy and needy, not even pausing as you quickly descend and take more and more of him in. it's faster than you usually handle it and he moves quickly to grab your hips and stop you, intent on making you take a second to adjust before taking all of him that you can.
you make a strangled noise akin to a sob in your chest and look at him with angry little tears in your eyes. the sight makes him pause and his cock twitch.
you slap his hands away harshly and continue taking all of him despite his apparent protests. he's taken aback by the little show of aggression.
"shit, love," he growls, brows furrowed, "is that how it is then?"
you nod your head and let your eyes roll back. it wasn't very often that you got to ride him, simon was more of a 'do all the work' type of man but this position definitely allowed you to take more of him than you usually could when he had you folded up into whatever positions he wanted.
once you took him as deep as you could, your hand flew down to your clit and with a few little circles and slow grinds of your hips, you were clamping down around him and cumming with a cute little squeal and a gasp.
he felt you soak him with your cum, his eyes locked onto where he was buried deep inside you. when you pulled up, he could see the creamy ring of cum around the base of him.
his head slammed back against the bed as he gripped your hips, your hands on his flexed forearms for support as you began to fuck yourself on his cock with a vigor he hadn't ever seen from you.
you hadn't ever been this needy before. seeing you fucking yourself completely stupid on his cock, only moans and sobs of his name to be heard besides the underlying squish of your cunt being stretched and stuffed.
"fuck!" he groaned, feeling the way your pussy clutched and pulsed around him as you angled your hips just right to hit that tender little spot that made you gush messily around him.
you once again slap his hands away from your hips. he glares at you, preparing to scold you for being such a brat but then you do something that shocks the words right out of him.
you grab his wrists and pin them beside his head on the pillow, using the grip as leverage to really begin fucking yourself back onto his cock. his jaw falls open, little moans and gasps escaping his throat as he watches you work yourself to another peak.
your tits bounce from the way you fuck yourself back on him and he wishes he could reach up and cup them, pinch and roll your hard nipples just the way you like. but he doesn't want to break this little hold you have on him, pinning him down like you think you're in charge. it's cute, really, the little show you're putting on.
it's clear he's denied you so much this whole time that you've simply snapped and now you're determined to get your fill until you've orgasmed so much that your little brain just melts. and he's more than happy to be there, not even lifting a finger and merely being a nice, hard cock for you to cream all over.
he has to admit, it's alluring to see his sweet little love acting so desperate.
he doesn't know how many orgasms you work out of yourself, but it's enough to have covered his cock and thighs thoroughly in your cum. he doesn't mind. you've always been quite a bit messy when he made you cum. but you've never came this hard and this much before. he's not even sure you're giving yourself a chance to come down from one high before you've worked yourself into another.
he's speechless, content to just lay back and watch the desperate show you've put on for him until your movements finally begin to slow.
you go from bouncing on him and pinning him down to grinding against him and cupping your own tits. your body is covered in a sheen of sweat from the workout and he's sure your thighs are fucking burning by now. you're panting and your eyes are half lidded as you stare down at him.
for the first time in a long time, simon feels...small. you had just fucked yourself better than he ever had using his own cock. the thought of that made him twitch inside you and he sees the corner of your lip twitch up and you smile at him. the heady, frustrated, desperate look in your eyes fades and you look so satisfied. the weight that he hadn't realized had been on your shoulders is gone and you lean down.
he tilts his head up and meets your lips in a kiss. your tits squish against his chest and he finally moves his hands from the position you'd pinned him in earlier and he smooths his palms down the length of your back, making you shudder.
"gonna let me cum now, love?" he asks breathlessly.
when you nod, your whole world flips and you find yourself on your back, simon pins your legs open with a rough grip under your thighs and begins working his hips.
it's clear you're painfully sensitive; your clit is swollen and tender, your whole body twitching when he meanly presses his roughened thumb against it. your hands once again find purchase on your tits and you squeeze and tug at your nipples.
he fucks you at a leisurely pace, listening to the filthy, clicking noises coming from the complete mess that you've made of your cunt. your eyes roll back and he rolls your tender little bud under his thumb until you seize up in one final orgasm that makes you kick your feet out helplessly.
“there it is…” he coaxes, tossing his head back to moan when you tighten like a vice around him, “so good f’me. that’s it, ride it out, little love.”
you've no choice but the ride out this final, painful orgasm on his cock as he fucks you through it to his own end. he spills inside you, pumping his hips a few more times, watching his own cum mix with the mess of your own that oozes and drools out of your gooey little cunt.
you flop against the bed when he pulls out, both of you panting and you trembling from the overstimulation.
he flops down onto his side of the bed with a sigh, eyes finally growing heavy once again as his exhaustion catches up with him alarmingly fast.
usually, he would clean you up and fix the mess you both left behind but he just truly can't bring himself to even consider getting out of bed. so he tugs you against him, listening to you whimper when more cum drools out of you from the way you involuntarily clench from the continued aftershocks of your numerous orgasms.
he hums and holds you close, dragging the blanket from the foot of the bed over both of you, kissing your forehead before tucking your head against his chest.
he would deal with the aftermath of the night tomorrow, when you both have clear heads. though, he's sure you're going to be sore. he can't wait to see it, he muses.
property of rowarn; do not modify, repost, or translate.
7K notes · View notes
anantaru · 2 months
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— comforting you on a bad day
including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader
genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort
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— scaramouche
scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.
easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.
scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.
he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.
however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.
hopefully you do.
"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?
troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.
his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.
scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.
you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.
for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.
the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.
scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.
"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."
you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.
strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.
"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."
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— wriothesley
you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.
you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.
as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.
as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.
in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.
yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.
"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.
wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.
"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.
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— alhaitham
alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.
instead, he just listens to you.
you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.
he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.
"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.
although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.
his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood. 
"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"
shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.
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— childe
childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.
it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.
naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.
you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.
for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.
the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.
he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.
it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.
"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.
your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.
childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"
"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.
it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.
ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own
2K notes · View notes
cupid-styles · 2 months
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Oh fuck tattoorry piercing his girl’s nipples would be so hot specially with how much she loves humiliation that entire interaction would be so sexually charged
this took me FOREVER but I hope you enjoy!!!!
part of the tattoorry/plugrry world
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word count: 3k
content warnings: piercings (mentions of needles), spicy but no smut
masterlist | talk to me
. . .
"Wait, you're being serious?"
Harry huffs out a laugh, sticking his chopsticks in the to-go container of veggie lo mein. "Of course I'm being serious. Why would I lie about that, dovie?"
His response, though not meant to make her feel bad, makes her shrug, a warm blush blooming over the expanse of her cheeks. She stuffs another bite of dumpling in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully to save her from further embarrassment in front of her boyfriend. 
"Don't feel bad," he murmurs, his large palm finding the space between her shoulders, rubbing her sweatshirt-clad skin comfortingly. Her eyes stay glued to the television in front of them, where they're watching the newest episode of Ru-Paul's Drag Race per Y/N's request. (She's never watched it before and Jo, the receptionist at St. Mark's Social, told her she had to. Y/N's been steadily binging it for weeks. Harry pretends like he doesn't love it, but he's secretly just as invested.)
"Dove, look at me," he sighs, placing his food on the coffee table. She does, positioning herself to face him and flittering her eyes up to his face. He looks tired, but they both are. It's been a long week of work and school — however, Y/N was able to get an interview for the bookstore on campus, which ended up causing her a lot of stress and anxiety. It ultimately went well and they said they'd be getting back to her soon. Even if it wasn't the bookstore she wanted to work at, it was still a source of income that would hopefully replenish some of her savings and help her pay rent and bills. 
"I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry I did that," he says softly, "It's just a given to me, because of my work. Nipple piercings aren't otherworldly, like they probably are for you."
She shouldn't be nitpicking, but somehow that hurts just as badly. Sometimes, she feels like a child around Harry. It's as if he's lived a thousand lives in the adult world and she's just recently gotten to have a smidgen of those experiences. 
"It's not otherworldly," she says the word like it's an insult, and Harry has to press his lips into a line so he doesn't laugh, "I just didn't know people got them."
Clearing his throat, he forces himself to put on his professional piercer-and-tattooer face, "Yeah. It's something that anyone can get and I've done a fair amount of them. Semi-painful in the moment with a long healing time. They can look good on the right person, though."
That causes her eyebrows to nearly shoot up to her forehead. 
"What do you mean, the right person?"
"You're just a nosy little thing tonight, aren't you?" Harry fires back with a smirk. She goes to cower with deflated shoulders but he instantly makes a tsk-ing noise with his mouth, grabbing her hands to keep her close, "I just mean, like any piercing, it doesn't always look right on the person. Sometimes people get nose or eyebrow piercings and it's like, oh, that's fine. But sometimes it's as if their anatomy looks complete with the piercing — almost like it's meant to be there, if that makes sense."
It doesn't, but it only continues to pique her curiosity even more. 
"What about me?" 
"What about you?" Harry chuckles, using a hand to smooth her hair down. 
"What piercings would look good on me?"
He smirks at her little game. She plays this sometimes, and he assumes it only comes from a place of true wonder. When they talked about the drugs he's done before, she asked which ones he think she'd like. (None, except maybe for weed, but she has to get her anxiety under control before she tries it.) They went over different styles of tattoos when Y/N was interested in his work, especially when he explained that his are just a hodgepodge of designs, some with meaning, some without. (He said she can get whatever she wants if she decides on something one day, but he's particularly partial to a little "H" on her bum.) And now, she wants to know what piercings would fit her. 
"You can get whatever you'd like, dovie," he replies, "Just as long as I'm the one doing it."
She rolls her eyes and leans her shoulder against the plush of the couch cushion. "Yeah, but you're the professional, Harry! You know what would look best on me."
"Anything would, you're gorgeous."
"That's a cop-out answer and you know it!"
Harry laughs loudly and places his hands atop her shoulders, "Okay, okay. Let me think, dovie. I need to assess my client."
"Oh, you're being a professional now?"
"Shhhh!" he exclaims, and it only makes her laugh harder. He's already gone to that focused place, though, with wandering but fixated eyes and that small crinkle between his eyebrows. She feels bashful beneath his gaze, blinking her eyes as he analyzes her facial features. She's watched him work before, but for some reason, this in particular reminds her of the first time they met, when she sat in on him tattooing Mai. She remembers the way her stomach warmed and her core throbbed at his attuned facial expression, similar to how it is now.
"Okay," he murmurs. Slowly, he reaches up to gently tap at the side of her nose. "I think you'd look very pretty with a small nose piercing."
"Really?"
He nods. "Yes, but you're beautiful with or without, so it doesn't matter. Plus, I can't have my girlfriend looking cooler than me."
She's not surprised at the way he instantly returns to his teasing self, even if it's not exactly the answer she was fishing for. She watches as he leans forward to grab his carton of noodles. With her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips, she attempts to grab his attention again.
"What about...?" she glances down at her chest. Harry looks at her with a quirked eyebrow. Her form is currently swallowed up in a sweatshirt that's a few sizes too large, so she realizes she's not being entirely specific about what she's asking. "Like...?"
"Huh?"
She sighs frustratedly, "My boobs!"
"Oh," Harry's eyes widen, flickering down to her covered breasts, "You wanna know if you'd look good with nipple piercings?"
She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip. She watches at the cogs turn in his brain, his gaze meeting hers a moment later. 
"Need to see 'em." he says decidedly. 
She huffs out a chuckle as he helps her peel her sweatshirt off, leaving her in a comfortable bralette. It's pale pink and sheer, but with Harry's hands splayed across her ribs, he still pulls the fabric down. In an instant, her nipples are stiff and peaked from the cold air, and she's attempting not to feel sheepish underneath his intense eyes as they flicker between her breasts. 
"I don't know why I'm even contemplating it," he says, though it's mainly to himself, "Of course you'd look hot with them. You're you."
He looks up at her with a goofy grin before pressing a kiss between them. She blushes.
"You think so?" she asks as her hand finds the back of his neck. He nods, eyes flickering closed when her fingertips play with the shorter, curly tendrils. 
"Of course."
"Would you do it, then?"
Harry's eyes shoot open. "Wait, what? I thought we were just... talking, I didn't think you were being serious."
Y/N shrugs, "I dunno, I kind of like the idea of it."
"Dovie... you only have your ears pierced," he mumbles, sitting up and reaching to gently touch her ear lobes, "If this is something you'd seriously want, I'd want you to think about it for at least, maybe, a few days, not just 10 minutes."
"I've never done anything impulsive, though," Y/N says through a whine. He understands it, and his face crinkles some at her request. "You've gotten tattoos while you were drunk! O-or given stupid ones to yourself!"
"I know, baby," Harry coos, "But those were stupid decisions and I don't want you to make the same ones. You're so much better than that."
She sighs dejectedly. He presses a kiss to each of her cheeks, then to her nose. 
"I get it, dove, really. And by all means, I'd rather you get an impulsive piercing than a tattoo. But the healing time is really long, and it is painful. I just don't want you to regret it or... or get mad at me, either."
Y/N's heart softens a bit, nodding her head as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "No, I understand." 
"If you still want them in a few weeks or months, I'm more than happy to be the one to do it," he says softly, reaching down to give her hand a small squeeze. She perks up a little at that, and he smiles. "Just give it some more thought, okay?"
. . .
Harry really, truly thought Y/N would never mention the whole nipple piercing thing again.
It turns out, his girl is way more stubborn than he could have ever anticipated, because it's been four weeks since then and she still wants them. 
In fact, she's currently sitting in his little work zone, where he tattoos and pierces other clients. Not his girlfriend.
"Are you sure?" he asks for the thousandth time. In the time since she first brought it up, she's done tons of research, including asking Harry just short of a million questions. He appreciated her enthusiasm towards education, but talking about nipple piercings as soon as he finished up work wasn't always ideal. Still, though, he made sure to entertain anything she had to ask, even catching her looking up different jewelry styles and what it looked like on different people. 
And, as soon as Jo accidentally overheard Y/N talking to him about it, of course she offered to show her own. Harry wanted to bang his head into a wall as he listened to them excitedly chatter in the corner, right after one of his employees bared her entire chest to his girlfriend. It had to be some type of workplace violation, only Harry served as the closest thing to Human Resources at the shop — and, considering they sold weed on the side, he didn't think he had much of a case against Jo.
It just so happened that Y/N got out of classes early on Wednesday and Harry hung around the shop those days, making deals and doing boring business administration things. When she asked if she could come by to get her piercings done, he reluctantly said yes. 
It wasn't that he didn't absolutely love the idea of it — he did, actually, and his mouth nearly watered at the imagery it created in his brain. What he did hate was the thought of causing his girl any kind of pain. He was still in the camp of being fearful that she'd get angry at him if she didn't end up liking it. But her excitement towards it never wavered, and he would never be one to tell her no.
"Yes, I'm sure," Y/N replies, wringing her hands together in her lap. "I'm nervous, though."
"That's normal, dovie. Just try your best to relax, it's only me."
She nods as he shuts the door to give them some privacy. He never does that with clients, but he wants to make sure he's making it as comfortable as a process as possible — and, maybe he's keen on ensuring no one else gets a peek. 
He busies himself with sanitizing his tools, washing his hands, and eventually pulling a pair of latex gloves on. He wishes he could make it a more fun experience for her, but the whole thing is quite medical.
"You already picked your jewelry out, right?" he asks lowly. She nods her head as she watches on. 
"Mhm. I sent you a picture of it last week."
"Right, these simple pink barbels, hm?" 
The piercing jewelry she'd chosen were pretty spot on to Y/N's aesthetic of being uncomplicated and feminine. When he saw what she picked, he immediately told her that it would fit her perfectly. 
"Alright, I'm gonna clean them and then we can get started. Still feeling good?"
She nods again. 
"You gonna tell me if you're gonna pass out again, baby?"
She scowls, remembering back to fainting from her first ear piercing. The sour, twisted frown on her face makes him laugh. 
"That's still so embarrassing." she mumbles. On the newly cleaned workspace, Harry shakes his head, placing the sanitized jewelry and piercing supples down on it. 
"Not embarrassing. Cute, actually," he corrects, peeling his gloves off. "Okay. I'm gonna help position you, is that okay?"
"Do you do that for every client?"
He narrows his eyes at her playfully, "No, you jealous little fiend."
She pulls her sweater off, revealing a pale blue baby tee. He swallows as she lays back on the extended table, taking a deep breath to surely calm her nerves. He gently squeezes her wrist, hovering over her form as she gets comfortable. When she shoots him a small nod, he smiles, flipping her shirt up. 
"Okay, baby," he says, smoothing his hand over her stomach, "I'm sure you read this in your... insane amount of research—"
"Not insane."
He nods curtly, "Right, not insane," he quickly corrects. "Anyway, your nipples have to be hard for this. It helps with the placement."
She issues another silent nod his way but doesn't move to do anything. With a small smile, he gently cups her breast. 
"Do you want me to?" he asks, his tone dropping lowly. She's not quite sure what he's even asking to do, but she still provides an affirmative answer. It's not a second more before he's latched his lips around her nipple, her eyes fluttering back from the sucking sensation. It's messy, the way he alternates between each one so they're swollen with his spit, and her fingers find his long curls, tugging at them gently to press him closer to her chest. 
It feels like he's gone far too quickly, plushy, wet lips pressing a quick kiss to the valley between her breasts as he examines his work. Her mouth parts as she watches him bite his lip. 
"You're good," he pants out, though he takes a moment to adjust the growing bulge in his pants, "Need to... put gloves back on."
They're both a bit lust-driven now, but Harry's quick to meld back into his professional persona after snapping a clean pair of gloves on his hands. Y/N swallows as he analyzes her, feeling squeamish beneath his eyes. Wordlessly, he grabs a marker and places two dots on either of her nipples. 
"That's just for the placement," he explains, grabbing a mirror so she can look at where the jewelry would sit, "What do you think?"
Truthfully, they could have been completely wonky and Y/N wouldn't have noticed, let alone say anything. She trusts Harry implicitly, even if she still feels a bit hazy from the welcomed assault on her stiffened breasts.
"Good." she says with a nod, glancing up at him, "Looks good."
"Alright, baby," he replies. He turns to get the clean piercing needle from his rolling tray. "I'm gonna count down from three. I want you to close your eyes and inhale on three, then exhale on one. We'll take a short break after the first one, and then I'll do the second. Does that sound okay?"
"Mhm," she mumbles, nervously biting her lip. "Just do it, please. 'm gonna lose my nerve."
He chuckles and nods, instructing her to keep her eyes closed as he situates himself over her. 
"Okay. Three— there you go, dovie, big, deep breath— two, one."
She immediately winces from the sharp bite of pain, a noisy gasp falling from her lips. Harry silently cringes to himself — not because the piercing isn't perfect, but because he absolutely hates knowing he's the reason why she's in pain right now. 
"Keep your eyes closed, baby," he murmurs as he fits the jewelry through the first piercing, "Good girl. You're doing so good for me, hm? My strong baby."
She swallows harshly, hands balled into fists at her side. It's painful, that much is true, and she's beyond grateful when he finally finishes screwing the jewelry into place. She lets out a shaky breath and Harry coos, taking one of his gloves off to thumb her tears away. 
"Was that okay, dovie?" he asks worriedly, "We can always save the second for another day."
Y/N quickly shakes her head, "No, no. Just do the other one now, otherwise I'll never have you do it."
Harry repeats the process on the other side. The pain is just as bad, tears continuing to cloud Y/N's vision and roll down her cheeks despite her keeping her eyes squeezed close. He shushes her softly throughout it, his heart tugging. Once he's finished, he's quick to wash his hands, listening to her quiet sniffles. 
"I know baby, I know," he mumbles. He crosses the room as soon as he's done, sitting down next to her and brushing her hair back, "You did so good, you know that? 's all done, dovie, you're done."
She sniffs, batting her wet eyelashes up at him. "'s done?"
"Yeah, sweetheart." he says with a small, crooked smile. "You were so good. Took it like a champ."
"I didn't, I cried the whole time."
He chuckles and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Do you wanna see them?"
She nods, nibbling on her bottom lip as he stands to grab the handheld mirror. He helps her slowly sit up, hinging at the waist. He holds it up to her chest, both pairs of their eyes staring at her swollen breasts. His eyes flitter to her face to gauge her expression, scared that she hates them. 
"Wait," she mutters, cocking her head to the side, "Wait... they're kind of hot."
Relief floods Harry's system and he smirks. "You think so?" 
"Yeah," she nods, sitting up on her knees, "I know they're kinda puffy right now but... I think I like them. A lot."
Harry swallows harshly, dropping the mirror on his chair. Suddenly, he's surging towards her and taking her cheeks between his large palms, smushing their lips together like his life depends on it. It takes her entirely by surprise, and it's hurried and hot and desperate, so much so that she's panting into his mouth and gripping at his black tee-shirt. 
When he finally breaks their kiss, strings of spit still connecting their mouths, he keeps his forehead pressed against hers. Again, he glances down to get another look at her chest. 
"I love you so fucking much," are the only words he can utter out before he's pulling her jeans down to bury his head between her legs. 
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atimeofyourlife · 9 months
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Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.
Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.
Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.
But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.
It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.
When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.
And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.
A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.
A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.
Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.
He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.
After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.
The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.
After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.
It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.
Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.
When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.
He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.
Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.
It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.
(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)
¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time. ²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)
This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.
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Slashers when their s/o is REALLY touchy.
Contains: Thomas hewitt,brahms heelshire, Billy lenz, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair & Lester sinclair
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Thomas hewitt
Tommy adores it when you just wanna latch onto him and never let go but he does have things to do and so do you!
He's always in bed after you so you as soon as he sits on the bed you surprise hug him from behind and he just accepts it lol. You stay like that for a bit before you realise he's actually dosing off.
One time when it was a stressful day and the texas heat was getting to Tommy. You wanted to just smother him with hugs but when you went in for one he snapped and shrugged you off, huffing. I mean you were hurt but you let it go and went back inside , Tommy realised what he had done and went after you and for the rest of the day you were hand in hand
He likes it when at the dinner table your hand finds it way onto his thigh and you look up into his eyes with a smile full of love. He loves you so much!!!!
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Brahms heelshire
Well isn't that fantastic because he's also extremely touchy!!
Your going back and fourth, your hands on his hair? Well his hands are on your waist! There is never a moment when you two arent touching
One time you yelled at him for being so childish and he sulked into the walls and didn't come out. You layed in bed hugging a pillow trying to picture it as him but you just couldn't so you gave up. You found yourself walking into the kitchen to find brahms sat at the table eating some toast. "Brahms can you come to bed with me? I can't sleep without you..." you sheepishly said. He stood abruptly and walkedover to you hugging you tightly. You both said sorry and cuddle eachother up in bed. Getting tangled in each other.
So basically what I'm saying is that you two are glued by the hip.
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Billy lenz
He appreciates the physical affection. Like EXTREMELY, for example if you pat his shoulder he would cream is pants..... that's how touch starved my man is.
He's pretty aggressive and doesn't realise he's squeezing you instead of just a nice hug. You have to show him the ways and hekk soon get it.
When the sorority girls are out and your the only one left inside the house you listen carefully for the attic to open and a giggly man to appear at your door. He's like a cat,he'll curl up in your lap and lays there while you pet him.
He does unfortunately makes everything sexual, if your on your bed ontop of him he will thrust up into you trying to get some sort of relief.
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Bo sinclair
He does tense when he is touched. He just doesn't know when your being genuine. You can understand why he reacts badly to physical touch.
He likes it when he's sitting on the couch and you plant yourself on his lap and start to play with his hair. He leans into you while your doing this.
He's not as touchy so when you start climbing all over him he does get frustrated. He's his own person and needs space too.
But at night he does enjoy being the big spoon, wrapping his arms around you and chuckling to himself when he feels you fidgeting with his hands. He just can't deny your cuteness.
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Vincent sinclair
Similar to his brother. He needs space especially when he's working. He doesn't want hot wax to spill onto his partners soft delicate skin! But when he isn't doing anything he's busy holding your hand and letting you drag him along.
When you can't help yourself and just want to stick to him while he's working he does allow it only if your behind him. He does shrug you off when he's got to focus on something or when your getting too touchy.
I mean hes a bit brain dead, he doesn't know what's the difference between just wanting a hug and wanting to do more than that but when your hands start pressing against certain parts of his body he starts to catch on and drops everything.
He won't really admit it but he really enjoys being little spoon he likes it when you press yourself against him and sit your head on top of his. Plus it's a bonus for you! Because he can't escape your grasp at night and go over work himself.
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Lester sinclair
Bros a pretty princess, he loves your hands on him. When he's luring talking to some city folks your next to him holding his hand tightly, hiding yourself into his side.
You and Jonesy shower this handsome boy with kisses and you continue doing this for the rest of day.
He doesn't like it when your near the roadkill pit. He doesn't want you slipping and going in!
At night he lovessss cuddles, he likes digging his face into your chest. Ofc jonesy is included x
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pls request! I do appreciate it and it gives me a challenge:)
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kennarose1108 · 21 days
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Feyd Rautha x Reader "You're Perfect."
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Summary: You and Feyd have an arranged marriage. He was cold and didn't talk to you often. But that was only because he didn't was to corrupt you. But he craved you. In his heart and in his arousal. And when you confront him one day he couldn't help but let out all his true feelings...
Warnings: p in v, blood kink, breeding kink, oral (f receiving)
You didn’t understand him. He always spoke to you cruelly but did things that showed he cared. Like getting rid of his concubines after he married you. Or not letting anyone harass or hurt you. He was protective of you, that was for sure. I mean, you were his wife after all, how could he not be protective of you?
But that doesn't mean he was going to be nice to you.
He tended to lash out at you often, especially if you touched him. There was a time he even shoved you back when you rested your hand on his arm. It was like he was disgusted by your touch...
But in reality, it was the complete opposite. God, he wanted you so bad. When you touched his arm he nearly lost control and took you right then and there. You make him go insane. He can't tell if it's lust or love but either way, he knows he wants you badly.
You, of course, didn't know this. You thought it was pure hatred and you didn't understand why.
So you decided to confront him.
He was preparing himself to battle in the arena and he was getting himself painted like he always did before a battle. But someone else entered the room... Someone he didn't expect.
You.
When you entered you looked over his body. He was toned and it was quite attractive to look at... But you swallowed your desire for him and waited for this to be done. When they finished painting him Feyd looked at you over his shoulder before waving his hand at the people around them, telling them he wanted them to go.
They quickly scurried off in an instant leaving you two alone. Feyd turned forward and looked away from you. "Why are you here, wife?" He says in his usual raspy voice. You slowly circled him, taking in his shirtless appearance. "I want to know why..." You say, finally stopping in front of him.
"Why what?" He says, not even looking at you. "Why you hate me." You say while crossing your arms over your chest. He rolls his eyes and makes a 'Are you kidding me' face. "I don't hate you. You're my wife." He says it like it is the most obvious thing in the galaxy. "Then why are you so cold to me? I mean... You seem revolted by my touch." I say. He clicks his tongue, "I don't have time for this." He says while turning away but you grab his arm which he quickly snaps out of your grip.
"See!" You say. He has his back turned to you. Your face grows sad and you sigh deeply. "Please just answer me..." You say in a low tone of voice while staring at him with sad eyes. He doesn't answer. He doesn't move.
You grow frustrated and you huff before saying, "Forget it..." You say while walking past him and trying to leave the room... But before you can he grabs you, one of his arms going around your shoulders and the other going around your waist. You let out a sharp gasp as his hot lips trailed up and down your neck.
"I ache for you..." He bites down on your neck, getting another sharp gasp to escape your lips. "I want you so bad I can hardly breathe..." He says while licking the wound clean, tasting your sweet blood.
"I can't get enough of you..." He whispers in your ear. He then spins you around and cups your face between his hands, his thumbs resting on your cheekbones, his face inches away from yours. Your breathing was heavy and your face was flushed. "Feyd..." You whisper, the sound sending shivers down his spine.
"I have restrained myself from you. I don't wish to corrupt you." He says, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones gently. "You won't corrupt me Feyd..." You say in a whisper. He lets out a heavy breath before slamming his lips onto yours. His kiss wasn't gentle or loving... It was hungry and full of lust and desire. His kiss was rough and bruising but you liked it.
As he kissed you his teeth scraped along your bottom lip before he bit down until you bled. You let out a groan as he suckled your bottom lip and pulled back. "I want you. Now." He says before lifting you up so he can rest you on the floor. He crawls on top of you and kisses you once again. As he kissed you he licked the wound on your lip before pulling back so he could kiss your neck. He kissed your neck, your shoulders, then he went down to your collarbone.
He lifted up your dress and kneeled in front of you. Next thing you know you hear the sound of your panties being ripped off your body and thrown aside. You were aching for him too, he could see it. Especially since your core was practically dripping for him. He licked his lips and smirked at you. You blushed and pressed your knees together but he quickly growled and pushed your knees apart.
"No." He says in his raspy tone of voice. "Don't you dare." He hisses. In the blink of an eye, you felt pleasure soar through you as he buried his face deep into your core. "Oh god!" You cried out as he licked over your clit before diving his tongue deep inside you. His hands gripped your thighs and you were sure he'd leave bruises behind. Your back arched and you made fists into the skirt of your dress. You cried out his name and he growled in response which caused a shockwave of pleasure to vibrate through your body.
His nose pressed against your clit as his tongue dove in and out of you. You moaned and your legs shook as you felt the knot in your stomach about to come undone. You couldn't believe how skilled he was with his tongue... And you couldn't get enough.
You let out a cry of pleasure as you came undone around his tongue. When he milked all the pleasure out of you he pulled back with a grin on his face. Your face was flushed and your breathing was heavy. He crawled on top of you and got close to your face, "You're stunning." He says in a low tone of voice. "Especially when you're writhing in pleasure." He whispers. He then leaned down and kissed you. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue which was arousing.
He knew it was your first time and that he was going to be your first. That turned him on but also worried him slightly. He didn't want you to be hurt, which is why he was so distant with you in the first place.
He pulled back. "I don't think I can be gentle with you." He says. "I don't want you to be gentle with me." God... That sentence drove him completely insane. He quickly pulled down his pants to show his erect cock. You gasped at his length and he smirked. He smashed his lips onto yours again and you felt his tip at your entrance.
You thought maybe he'd be slow at first... Especially since you can tell he was worried about hurting you but instead... He shoved himself fully inside of you, not giving you time to adjust to his length. You gasped loudly in his mouth and gripped his shoulders.
But he had some restraint to not pound you into the ground so he moved in and out of you at a decent pace. Your legs shook and moans and whimpers escaped your lips. "So fucking good..." He growled into your ear.
"You're taking me so well my dear..." He says. His words make your heart flutter and your stomach curl into knots. You let out a whimper and it drove him on further. He began to snap his hips against yours, his tip hitting that sweet spot inside of you. You moaned loudly and your nails dug into his back, drawing blood. He let out a groan then a laugh. You felt yourself getting closer and he could feel it as you grew tighter around him.
He gripped your hips and began pounding into you. You let out one last cry of pleasure before feeling that wave of pleasure course through your body again. But he didn't stop. He kept pounding into you which made whimpers and mewls escape your lips as you were so sensitive. He felt himself getting close and the thought of breeding you and you carrying his heir made him get closer and closer to the edge.
You knew he was getting close and you stared up at him with wide eyes. "Feyd..." You whisper and he knows what you are about to say. He stops for a moment. The thought of pregnancy scared you... But also intrigued you.
"It's okay..." He says. "I'll take care of you." He smirks. You nodded and he leaned down to bite your neck again before continuing to pound into you. It didn't take long before he came deep inside of you. You both laid there panting and heaving before he lets out a chuckle and leans down to kiss your shoulders, neck, and cheeks.
"You're perfect..." He hums.
"I'll never neglect you again." He says before placing a kiss on your lips.
I TAKE REQUESTS :)
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luveline · 7 months
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i see ur thinking abt the marauders and i was just thinking abt them too!! i just saw a thread on twt abt how much men hate their girlfriends but wont break up with them (😖😖) and couldn't stop thinking abt how james would be so BAFFLED reading it!! would you be able to write something for that? its perfectly fine if not!! ily <33
I luv you! I'm not sure what thread you mean but I made a guess, sorry if it's not right ♡ fem, 1k
modern au. cw mention of toxic/hurtful relationships
"What is that?" James asks, pushing the sheets back as he climbs in beside you. His bowl of cereal is heaping, upwards of ten weetabix doused in milk, sugar, raspberries, blueberries, and a generous squeeze of honey.
"What?" you ask, showing him your phone screen. 
James leans over you to scroll back up. "Men who hate their girlfriends?" 
"Oh, it's like, people posting their screenshots, I think." You click on the tweet he'd been pointing at and show him the replies underneath. "It's just boys who act like they don't love their partners but won't break up with them either, there's loads on there." 
"What?" he asks, holding his bowl in one hand. "Can I?" You give him your phone happily, watching as he reads through some of the examples, screenshots from different websites and forums. "'Recently had to tell a friend's bird that he was calling her all sorts of names. I'm loyal to my friends, but you could hear the hatred in his voice sometimes. She left him two days later and he was surprised, for some reason.'"
James' eyebrows pinch. He continues, "'Am I in the wrong for asking my husband to stay awake with me during my early morning labour? He keeps bringing it up.'" James shows you your phone screen. "Like, he's mad she didn't let him sleep through the birth of their child?" 
"You know, there was a video on there a few weeks ago where a girl had put together a compilation of her boyfriend play fighting with her, and each video got nastier and nastier." You reach for the spoon to his bowl to start chopping up the weetabix the way he likes. "He was kicking her legs from under her and she was laughing it off. Once or twice, I'd think it was funny, but he wasn't even laughing himself." 
"Why the fuck?" James asks. 
"I don't know. Can I have a raspberry?" 
"They're in there for you to steal…" James watches you chew. You try not to pay too much attention to his staring, plopping your phone down in the sheets between your legs. "Why are these boys getting with women they don't like?" 
"I don't know, Jamie," you tell him honestly, wading through his bowl for another raspberry. "I think they get comfortable." 
He accepts the spoon back from you and you slouch down the fabric headboard together. James eats his weetabix slowly, the TV sending a light blue light into your otherwise dark room. "It's a bit late for supper," you murmur. "Were you hungry?" 
James puts his bowl on the nightstand. Coils of curls brush your forehead as he leans down, one big hand on the back of your neck and the other stretched across the shoulder furthest away from him, holding you in place as he kisses the top of your head. It's a weighty kiss, full of love. "I love you. Don't ever let anyone treat you like those boys on your phone, yeah?" 
You hum lightly. "That's what boys are like." 
"I know. I'm just begging you not to let people do that to you." He rubs your shoulder roughly, a massaging that hurts in the good way. "You know, if you can. I get that it's not their choice." 
"Yeah. I think people want so badly to be loved that they'll take the pretend kind. I was lucky to find you before you found someone else. You always make me happy." 
"This is what I mean," he whines, resting his cheek on your forehead. You sigh happily at his touch, more than ready for a night of his arms around you, a heavy leg thrown over your hips to lock you in. "You think you're lucky because of those dickheads." 
"No, it doesn't have anything to do with them. Just you." 
James sits up to turn your face to his. "Love you," he says, kissing you quickly. 
"Love you too. Don't stress about the phone, babe, you're not the audience they're looking for." 
James hears your teasing tone toward the end, poking your side. "What's that for?" 
"Nothing, just, you tried to follow me into the bathroom last night even when I told you I wasn't showering. If you're that eager to sit with me while I pee, I doubt you'll be the kind of guy who ends up on that forum." 
"It wasn't about the peeing, stop trying to shame me," he grumbles, again pulling you in for a hug, "it was separation anxiety. I miss you."
"I get why these women end up like that, though," you say quietly. "I get why they stay. If you started shoving me for a laugh or whatever, I'd think about this, because you love me. Does that make sense? I'm so happy right now that I wouldn't want to believe that you didn't love me anymore." 
"I know. It's fucking sad. I can't believe they do shit like that, it's pure selfishness." James settles back in his pillow. "I wouldn't ever do that shit to you. I know everyone says that, but I have to say it anyway." 
"I know, Jamie. Don't worry. I'm not worried about it, only talking." 
You offer him your hand. James takes it, rubs the back of it, brings it to his lips for a barely felt kiss. "Is there anything happy on that app?" he asks. 
"Uh, I saw a video of a baby girl who only stops crying when her cat comes to check on her. Or a pregnancy reveal where the boyfriend starts crying and begging her to get married." 
James rests his face on your shoulder, snuffling into your skin contentedly, "Ah, so my future. Put it on, angel." 
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fellwhite · 2 years
Text
Well
At least it wasn't my fault, right?
Venting again because i have nothing better to do nor anyone to talk to yet (well until monday atleast) so you're warned part 2: electric bogaloo
Using dots (.) As commas (,) since tags don't allow it
#so it wasn't my fault at least.but rather her being the weirdest being to ever exist (and that's coming from me a pretty damn weird person)#basically: it's 100% a mutual thing. the problem? she doesn't want a serious relationship and doesn't want to hurt me#well guess what both things are fucking lies and I don't know if she's trying to lie to others or to herself#1. i know her. she definitely wants a serious relationship and was about to commit with me#2. what she decided to do instead is so much fucking worse and only ends up in a straight up torture for me#she's following the same pattern she's had for years:treats 1 person like heaven for a bit and before it escalates she goes to someone else#which not only ends up hurting a fuck ton of people. but herself as well because again: i know that she truly wants it and is ready#I don't understand it at all#but while i would definitely be in a giant amount of suffering under normal circumstances anyway#what makes it all worse is that now it's one of my friends. one who knew how badly i fell for her#and what did he do? he didn't give a shit. went behind my back and straight up took her on a date 8 days after i did#and again: she doesn't even feel for him what she does for me. it's just the stupid pattern she has and that i doubt i can break#and thus I'm here. just thinking nonstop about what the fuck im supposed to do here#should i murder that traitor? should i speak with her? should i speak with the traitor for atleast some context?#i want to murder that guy. i trusted him and this is my payment. and to make it worse this has happened MANY times in my life#at this point i only genuinely trust a few of my friends like 6 at most#everything is so confusing. stressful. tiring and depressing i want to crawl into a hole and lie there until i die#atleast i basically robbed her best friend now though and she (friend) feels like a friend for life who genuinely cares so that's nice#heck she knows me a lot less than she does the other one yet she still decided to side with me after seeing how unfair this situation is#...so hey I guess it wasn't a total loss (i mean there's a chance still. but it's rather low and I don't know if i even want it anymore)#it hurts however. this isn't a generic crush 'oh my teenage love' i genuinely love her. I would've straight up married her that day-#<-light exaggeration of course but not THAT far from the truth. I've done a lot for her and definitely would've done more if she let me#so this is gonna take a LONG time to get over with. i know that i probably will but it just#...hurts you know? like I can't describe it any better than the raw words like 'pain' or 'aching' can do#love truly is a double sided sword after all. and humans aren't particularly good at wielding them#at this point considering all my romantic failures it would be better if i had just been aromantic or something since the start#would've saved me a lot of stuff (not underestimating what aros go through btw. im sure they go through even worse things)#(but i just really wish i didn't have to deal with romance in general)#and i think that's it for this vent. im tired and i want to sleep it all off. for it'll help to ease the feelings even if just a little#vent
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ddejavvu · 7 months
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Animagus reader and Sirius playing in their animal forms and Sirius accidentally being a little too rough since his form is obviously a lot bigger? He’s super apologetic and while the damage isn’t a big deal at all, reader is like “… I guess this means you owe me a lot of sweater cuddles and to carry me in your bag..” to milk it LOL
part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8
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Sirius curses the fact that he'd chosen to bound over the grounds with you instead of staying hidden in the shadows of the forest. It means that when his massive form crashes down on top of you after you nip at his front paw, that neither of you can immediately transform to assess the damage. You're in full view of the castle and the accompanying grounds, and he has to fight every urge in his body not to give himself away and shift back at your pained yelp.
He panics, cycles through fight and flight and decides neither will do, then ever-so-gently takes the scruff of your neck between his teeth. He's painstakingly careful, whining apologetically in his throat as he secures you in his maw and bolts for the forest. You haven't made any further outcries, not even when his grip on you had shifted your position, and Sirius takes it to mean that he hasn't maimed you too badly. He still doesn't feel good about it, though, and his paws beat roughly over the earthen forest as he searches for a place to hide.
When he's carried you well within the sprawling confines of the forest he lowers his head to the ground, setting you gently on the mossy dirt.
When you don't immediately transform back, your eyes scanning the trees for potential onlookers, he nudges you with his wet snout, snuffling softly against your fur. It's safe.
You let your transformation seize you, limbs cracking though there's no accompanying pain, and fur retracting and morphing into soft, smooth skin. You wind up splayed over the forest floor and quickly right yourself so that your back is against the tree, and Sirius completes his own transformation only seconds later.
His eyes are round and shining with worry, and you marvel at how he's able to pull such perfect puppy dog eyes even after shedding his canine form. He scans you for visible injuries, lips trembling slightly as he asks, "Darling, are you okay?"
"My wrist hurts," You observe, voice pinched in pain as you raise it. There's a slight ache there, nothing that a day of use won't shake away, but Sirius takes it between his fingers like it's shattered glass that he's afraid might cut him.
"I'm sorry!" He gushes, inspecting the skin there like it might just give up and split in two, "Darling, I'm sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you- is it okay? Do we need to go to the hospital wing?"
You flex it in his grip, once, twice, and already the slight pain eases. You shake your head, but he perceives it as an answer for the wrong question, and his eyes light further with a flaming worry.
"No, I'm- it's okay, Sirius." You assure him, brows still furrowed together at the middle, "I don't need the hospital."
"Are you sure?" He verifies, a nervous glimmer still sullying his handsome features. You nod, twisting your wrist in his grip to take hold of one of his hands, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Yeah, I'm sure," You nod, shifting your legs to plant your heels against the ground, "Help me up?"
He scrambles to fulfil your request, hauling you to your feet and right into his arms. He holds you against his chest, touch excruciatingly gentle against your skin.
"You're sure you're okay?" He asks, and for a third time, you nod.
"Yes, Sirius," You laugh, planting your face into the seam of his button-up, "Yes, I'm okay. It only hurt for a second. I just twisted it or something. It's fine, I'm fine, we're fine."
"Okay." He smooths a hand up your back, nodding along to your repetitive reassurances, "Okay. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," You hum, wishing you were back in your feline form as you press your face into his chest. It's more soothing then, and you can hear the beat of his heart much clearer when you're a cat.
"You gotta make it up to me, though." You muse expectantly, and his arms stiffen around you, "Three whole days of carrying me in your bag without complaining."
"Three?" He asks incredulously, "One! Two, if you're lucky. Three is for hospital wing patients."
"Ah, my wrist," You feign injury, slumping against his chest as he fills the forest with the sound of his deep laughter, "Sirius, hospital wing, stat!"
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