#every time I think about them I want to scream a little. they're so good. a
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Rage, rage | three
prologue | one | two | three |
Pairing: Azriel x Hybern!Princess!OC
Summary: Nimue was a gift for the King of Hybern. His shining jewel, the perfect heir. However, she is clear about who the villain of the story is. When she saves her father's enemies from a tragic end, she realizes that now it's the Cauldron who has a gift for her: a mate.
Warnings: heavy injures, description of injuries, blood, violence, weapons, bad language, english not being my first language
They look at each other, adrenaline boiling and screaming in everyone's veins. Nimue doesn't take her eyes off Rhysand, but she feels everyone looking at her.
She feels naked, unprotected.
She blinks to get used to all that light. She had never seen so much light and it's beautiful.
Her senses come to life as she lets go of Rhysand's hand, which she had unknowingly been clinging to. She breathes over and over, trying to calm herself, but involuntarily she begins to tremble.
What has she done, what has she done, what has she done.
Father is going to kill her.
Amidst her frenzy of thoughts, Rhysand starts barking orders. She doesn't hear them well, only scattered words: healer, help, house.
Nimue glimpses a huge house to her right, and realizes she has brought them all to the courtyard of a mansion. Around her, everyone seems to spring into action.
The blonde female runs into the house, and seconds later comes out accompanied by another woman, shorter and slighter. She can't tell if she's fae or a creature. When Nimue and her lock eyes, it's like they're looking in a mirror. Both frown but decide to ignore each other.
For Nimue, it's as if everything is happening in slow motion: when she wants to realize, there's another person there, attending to the two injured Ilyrian. A glow emanates from her hands, its warmth reaching the princess's face. A healer, she supposes. She had never seen one.
She fights against her own panic, trying to get used to all the hustle and bustle and all those sounds. The birds flying above her head, the sunlight, the smell of the sea, the smell of pine and cedar, the voices around her, the poor Ilyrian screaming in pain...
She lowers her gaze, and without thinking, she starts speaking: "I can help."
Everyone looks at her again, judging her. They scan her from head to toe.
The two females who were thrown into the Cauldron are to her left, crying and hugging the one who was with Rhysand. Are they sisters? They looked so much alike...
"I can help," she repeats, this time firmer. She starts walking and sees how Rhysand prepares to attack her, "I can heal both of them, if you let me."
She analyzes the High Lord's face, and sees how little by little he is giving in. No one articulates any words, with a simple nod of the male's head, he grants her permission. He has nothing more to lose.
She kneels beside the one with the shattered wings and begins to do what she does with herself and the wounds she has ever suffered: with her magic, she grasps every little nerve ending, every small piece of skin. She pulls them and threads them, weaves them, joins them and separates them as if making a tapestry. So little by little, she shapes the wings of that Ilyrian. It's all pure instinct, what her nature dictates to her.
Father always told her she was his Goddess of Destruction, but Nimue knew deep down that she was capable of fixing, of healing, of bringin good to the world.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, she was piece by piece, shred by shred, joining and repairing the broken wings of that male. When she reached the bones, she simply imagined how they should have originally been: she ordered them to return to their form, to be soldered, and they obediently complied.
With a final grunt from the male, Nimue finished her work. But before she could get up, he grabbed her arm:
"Thank you," he whispered. Nimue is stunned. Thank you?
Had anyone ever thanked her for anything? Had anyone shown her gratitude?
No, her real doubt wasn't that. Had she ever done anything worthy of others' gratitude?
She swallowed her fear and terror, kneeling on the ground. She watched as the male limped away from her and enveloped the blonde female in a hug, how he squeezed her tightly as they both cried on each other's shoulders.
She was so, so lost. Where was she? What was happening around her?
"What a miracle of a girl," the healer whispered. Standing between Rhysand and the slighter female, the more aged-looking woman never took her eyes off her, "You are a Cauldron's blessing. When you're done, I'll need you to teach me how you do that. You are a–"
"Silence, Madja," Rhysand's voice resonates under her feet and in the very mountain, as if he had spoken those words inside Nimue's skull. She shrinks, intimidated. That's the power of a High Lord, "Now him. Heal him.”
She looks away from Rhysand and sets her gaze on the last remaining male.
Kneeling on the ground beneath him is a pool of his own blood and something that seems to be shadows, moving frenetically back and forth. She had never seen anything like it, those... beings, moving around the man. Nimue hears faint noises that she can't quite understand.
Behind her, she feels a presence moving. Rhysand looks down at her, those violet eyes so deep that Nimue feels hypnotized, "Don't just stand there gaping and do what you did to Cassian. Now. Or I'll cut off your head, you filthy Hybern rat."
She nods, and when she turns back to the winged male, he looks back at her. His amber eyes follow every small movement she makes: from the slight tremble of her lower lip to the way she raises her hand.
When he tries to speak, a trickle of blood runs down his lip to his chin, "Touch me and I'll cut off your hands, traitor."
Nimue trembles.
What the hell is she doing? Where has she gotten herself into?
Before she knows it, two streaks of water run down her cheeks. Is she crying? She had never cried before, what a strange sensation.
Her gaze travels to the hands of the male in front of her. He grips a beautiful black dagger, its tip directly aimed at Nimue's chest.
She swallows hard and, in a quick motion, grabs the arrow he has lodged in his chest and pulls it out with all her strength. She has been so fast that the male collapses forward, falling on top of her.
Rhysand and the healer, Madja, take care of getting him off her, and when Nimue tries to touch him again, the High Lord growls at her, "I told you to heal him, not to open up the damn hole in his chest further."
By pure instinct, Nimue snarls back at him, "I am healing him, you idiot. Back off."
Where she found the courage, she doesn't know. But they obey her, and she gets back to work.
The male is lying on his back on the ground, and Nimue places her hand on his chest, where the arrow was previously lodged. She begins to weave again, slowly, thread by thread.
Her gaze rests on his face, which, with closed eyes, lets out the occasional groan between his teeth.
Azriel feels like his chest is on fire. He feels the edges of the wound burning, he feels combustion from within. He takes gulps of air as he struggles not to lose consciousness, and blinded by the pain, he reaches his hand into the air and grabs onto the first thing he finds.
Nimue startles when his hand grabs her elbow, but she lets it be, the touch of his glove is a new, pleasant, and different sensation. She looks back at his face, and in a low voice, she speaks to him, "I'm almost done. Just making sure there's no trace of the poison that the arrow was coated with."
Azriel lets out a growl. He couldn't care less about the explanations. He just wants it to be over already.
The pain reaches the core of his bones and he opens his eyes abruptly, looking at the girl in front of him.
What is that?
Around her, he sees a thread, a small golden rope encircling her: it descends down her shoulders and arms, caresses her wrists and fingers, and wherever her skin meets his, he sees how the thread enters his own body.
Is he hallucinating?
Hasn't he had enough with the arrow between his ribs, that now the poison is making him hallucinate?
Behind the girl, he sees Rhysand, Amren, Cassian, Mor, even damn Madja. He sees how in slow motion their brows furrow, he sees how they lean forward, looking puzzled at something that makes Azriel scared.
"What's going on?" he asks agitated. He tries to sit up on his elbows, but although the pain has already diminished, it still doesn't let him breathe properly, "What are you all looking at like that?"
Nimue furrows her brows as she pushes the man back to the ground so he stays still. She frowns, as she begins to feel something on her fingertips...
Something is not right.
The sensation travels up her forearm and shoulder, and settles in her chest. There inside, like a caged bird, that sensation starts tumbling, back and forth, faster and faster.
She removes her hand from the man's chest and he sits up in front of her, like a spring.
Azriel feels like he's going to explode. What has that witch put inside him? What kind of magic has she used on him?
"What the hell have you done to me?" he shouts. Azriel brings a hand to his chest when that pressure keeps growing.
Nimue mimics him, feeling like her chest is going to burst.
What has she done? Has she made a mistake? Perhaps her magic has betrayed her now for the first time...
She's hyperventilating, and when she feels that, indeed, she's going to explode like a firework, she looks into the eyes of the male in front of her.
And then everything suddenly calms down.
They stare at each other, stunned, not knowing what to say. Their breaths come together, equally fast and choppy.
And when their bodies stop vibrating and calm down, she feels it there.
There's something, something pulling her towards...
Towards him.
Azriel jumps to his feet, as if they hadn't just removed a poisoned arrow from his chest or he hadn't just lost liters and liters of blood. He finds Truth Teller in its usual place and with a practiced motion after years and years of battles, he grabs the girl by the collar of her clothes and lifts her up like a feather. The dagger rests comfortably against her neck, and she does nothing but look back at him, wide-eyed.
"Azriel!" Rhysand shouts. He ignores his High Lord, although every fiber of his being tells him to obey him, "Azriel, let her go!"
Then, Nimue comes to her senses. With a practiced movement, the winged male is kneeling on the ground again. The pretty black dagger is now in her hand, while with the other she pulls back his hair.
Azriel doesn't know when all this happened. He just knows that he blinked and now he's the prey. He clings to the girl's hand pulling his hair and tries to break free, but he can't understand how such a small woman can have the strength of a thousand men.
"Now I'm going to let go of you and you're not going to attack me. Understood?" She utters each word slowly, as if speaking in another language.
Nimue takes a step back, releasing the dagger, which falls to the ground with a dull thud.
Azriel stands up, and in a leap, he's next to Rhysand in an attack position.
Before Nimue, everyone present is on high alert. Some in attack position, others simply ready for whatever may happen.
The first to speak is Azriel, with the same accusatory tone as before, "What have you done to me? Undo it." He's trembling, and Nimue can't tell if it's from fear or from the pure rage she sees in his face.
Even if she wanted to, she couldn't undo it, because she herself doesn't know what has happened.
What is that pulling her? What is that feeling in her chest, an anchor dragging her toward that winged male?
Everyone remains silent, looking at each other.
However, it's Rhysand who speaks first, the voice of reason in a desperate situation, "Let's all calm down."
Because he doesn't know if he's the only one who sees it, who feels it. That sudden change in the air. It smells like cedar and mist, like Azriel. But if he pays attention, he smells the sea salt and the sweetness of poison in the air. The scent that the girl in front of them emits. It's intoxicating and chilling at the same time. He couldn't say.
What he can say, however, is what he sees crystal clear. Azriel's essence, mixed with that of the unknown girl. He sees how both mingle in the air.
And then, Rhysand would swear that he stopped hearing Azriel's heartbeat next to him.
"My mate," his friend whispers. His face, a complete expression of surprise, something that the Shadow Singer rarely showed, "She's my mate.”
Taglist:
@lilah-asteria @agentsofsheilds @leptitlu @just-here-reading @glitterypirateduck @donttellthecats
A/N:I really hope you are all enjoying it. Every kind of support is greatly appreciated, and thank you so much to those who already support it!! If you want to be added to the taglist, just let me know 🥰
#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel imagine#azriel x reader#azriel#azriel acotar#acotar fic#acotar fanfiction#acotar#rhysand#cassian#azriel fanfic#azriel fic
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Brainrotting. Badly
#babs does art#5-minute moods#nagihono#i like to think Nagisa grows out her hair as she gets older#this is supposed to be them in their 3rd year of high school#so like 17-18 years old#futari wa precure#mahouposting on main#pretty cure#baby gays#every time I think about them I want to scream a little. they're so good. a
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Hey as a super introverted but not shy person I'd just like to say the jokes about extroverts "adopting" introverts to "get them out of their shell" are actually completely unfunny and it just goes to show how little respect a lot of y'all have for the fact that we genuinely don't want excessive social interaction and that y'all are forcing us to do something that brings us extreme physical and mental discomfort because you perceive our introversion as a failing rather than as purely a difference in personality.
We don't need your "help" to socialize. We're not children. We're simply not interested in spending every waking second of our lives talking to people and being talked at in return.
#again i scream from the rooftops that there is a monumental chasm between being shy and actually being an introvert#a shy person is someone who's afraid of social interaction. an extrovert can be naturally shy.#a shy person can WANT lots of social interaction but simply have not learned to feel comfortable in social situations.#people who are just very introverted simply have little desire or capacity for excessive human interaction.#we're not “afraid” of it. we just don't enjoy it and it wears us out.#you don't need to swoop in and save us because we can't handle ourselves. we're perfectly fine thank you#extroverts are constantly demanding that we get out of our comfort zones but few of you are willing to make the alternative more comfortabl#if you're a very extroverted person please do not take it upon yourself to jokingly “adopt” introverts you meet.#it's not funny and it's not helpful. it's irritating that you perceive our quietness and low social battery as something that needs “fixing#we won't miraculously learn to love and be comfortable with excessive human interaction. that's not how we're wired and that's OKAY#i'm honestly getting so sick of the “the lonely introvert and the extrovert who adopted them” memes#i can guarantee you that if you are an extrovert who operates this way then your introvert “friend” is actually probably very uncomfortable#and just don't want to say anything because they think it would be rude to bring up the fact that they don't want what you want from them#this does NOT mean extroverts and introverts cannot be friends nor am i saying all extroverts are annoying or that they all do this#i'm simply saying that if you are very extroverted and you have a friend who's very introverted#then it's on you to be aware of your introvert friend's limited social battery and STOP pressuring them to just “put up with it”#don't spend every second with them constantly talking. be willing to spend some time just in the quiet.#be willing to let them bow out of something if they're exhausted and are low on social energy.#don't expect them to want to come to every meeting or party or get-together because it WILL drain them completely.#be willing to let them spend time alone when they need to to recharge.#letting an introvert cool off and recharge when they need to is ALWAYS going to make social situations less stressful for them.#PLEAAAAASE take their feelings into account and understand that they do NOT perceive social interactions the way you do.#most very introverted people do not find socialization relaxing or invigorating. they don't do it to unwind#they have to unwind AFTER lots of social interaction#that's about it. thank you and good night
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this isn’t a request but you’re the only writer i know who writes the monster!au so
dragon!reader and dragon!price are haunting my thoughts. dragons usually have to hold themselves back when sparring because they’re so much stronger than other monsters but with price & reader they don’t need to, to the point where the other members of the 141 are kinda wondering if they need to intervene.
what they do or don’t know is this is you and price courting, testing each other’s strength to assess whether you’re suitable mates. once you have decided you’re suitable it continues in the bedroom, fighting for dominance and testing each other’s stamina as price rides you or you pin price down and see if he can take all the strength behind your thrusts.
OH god I LOVE the way you think! I know @rodolfoparras also did a dragon price some time ago but I'm happy to let my monsterfucker out lol :D I'll consider this a spitball thingy but GOD DAMN did my hyperfixation hyperfixate on this :Ddd kinda rushed at the end but it's 3AM :/
CW:NSFW
What about if dragons measure not just raw strength, but all other aspects as well? They're prideful by nature and with so little of them remaining no self-respecting dragon will settle for a witless brute or a powerless scribe.
Price had lost hope in finding a mate centuries ago because he's even pickier than most of his kin; in his view, a proper one needs to be strong enough to completely pin him down, needs to be smart enough to see the insults in his honeyed words and give back as good as he does, needs to be clever enough to lead men as good as he does.
A proper mate needs to keep up with him on all levels.
And for a dragon of his age, that's an unachievable set of criteria. Oh sure, many of the dragons he's met over the years have tried to match him, but all fell short, leaving him lonely and unsatisfied.
Then he met you, a fellow Captain, a fellow dragon. Though only a few centuries younger than him, you're a wyrmling in his eyes, your scales like shining metal compared to his muddled gemstones. An arrogant wyrmling if the way you peacock for him the first time you enter the training room has anything to say about it— your wings spreading out and muscles rippling, back straightening out to make you taller, scales glinting in the artificial light; little details that anyone else can brush off as a simple stretch but to a dragon it screams of your interest in him.
His slitted eyes roam across your body, both equal parts disdain and curiosity. "Got somethin' ta say there boy?" His words are rough like sandpaper.
"No, no." You hum as you get into the ring, every little movement purposely done to showcase your hard earned musculature. "Just that you should skip out on this fight. Wouldn't want you to throw your back out old man."
"Old man huh?" His eyes blaze with the same fire at the end of his cigar, your words igniting something in his chest that had long been extinguished. "I'll show you old."
And suddenly he's in the ring, both of you trading blow for blow with the same savagery your progenitors had frightened mankind with for millennia, your claws leaving deep grooves in the concrete when you miss his side, his tail smashing a portion of the ground into dust when you avoid it, the ground between you cracking when you try to push the other away, loose scales and dust and debris littering the ground as you and Price wrestle on the ground.
Both of your teams watch from the sidelines, your team calming the other members of TF141 that this is just how dragons are, pointedly ignoring your victorious snarl when you pin Price down to the ground, your clawed hand harshly pushing his face into the concrete to the point you might break his nose as you bite the back of his neck, forcing him to submit. "I win,"
"Not fer long." He snarls back just as deep, feeling alive for the first time in who knows how long. "Best two out of three." And with that he jerks, remaining wing slamming into your side and knocking you off balance long enough for him to fling you into the wall opposite of him.
You don't know how many rounds you go before you're forced to stop by a very pissed off Laswell, who also pointedly ignores the obvious bulges in what remains of both of your pants, giving both of you a stern talking to about wrecking the damn training room.
You're ready to leave after being chastised like a child but Price is quicker, passing you with a "Good fight back there." rumbling in his throat, the soft scales of his wing brushing along your jaw. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull when you meet his gaze, and Price has a good poker face but the smoldering look in his eyes and the low grumble in his chest makes it's obvious you've peaked his curiosity.
But that's just the start, the hard part is keeping it. While regular dragons may spend time with a potential mate conversing on scholarly subjects or having philosophical debates, you and him have a more practical way of assessing the other's intellect — Battle plans.
To your teams it sounds like a harsh argument, ideas thrown around and sharp insults tacked on top, their heads ping ponging between you and Price as you look over maps, trying to one up the other. Eventually your teammates leave you to settle this on your own.
"And I'm telling you, old man," You growl, both of you so close there's barely any space between you as you point at the map. "We can push a smaller team through the forest while we lead the frontal assault, our wip's not going to have anywhere to go then." You huff, holding your head up high to make it obvious you're proud of your idea.
Price gives you the stink eye, before he scans the map again, humming to himself. After a few seconds he lets out a scoff. "We don't have enough men for that." He says, but the sharp edge in his tone is dulled. "But—" His tail moves to brush against your own, your rough scales brushing against his smoother ones. "—It has some merit."
Price doesn't draw attention to the way your tails intertwine, wrapping together like two snakes, and neither do you. But the short purr that bubbles out of your chest says everything he needs to know, growing louder when he answers with his own, your shoulders brushing together. "Aight, back to work." He cuts your purrs short, but you can't hide the pleased look on your face as your tails remain coiled together.
Then comes the actual courting dance.
One late evening spent looking over documents in the privacy of his office, your tails once again coiled beneath the desk after successfully having proved your wit to him again, absentmindedly telling embarrassing stories of your respective teams. . . Price has a revelation. You might be it. "Hey lad."
You look up, your full attention on him. "Yeah?"
With a mumbled grunt too quiet for you to hear Price slides a hand beneath his shirt and pulls a large green scale from the meat of his shoulder blade, the wound healing before it can even bleed.
Instinctively you know what this means, for knowing how a prospective mate treats an extension of you will show how they'll treat you. But you still speak up, needing proof for your own mind that you're not insane and haven't been burning the wrong tree. "What?"
Price glares at you, "Don't play dumb," He says as he slides the large scale across the table to you. "It doesn't suit you." There's an underlayer of heat in his words, blue slitted eyes looking you over in a much more appreciative light.
You can't control the big grin that spreads across your face, "Oh, then what does suit me?" You ask as you follow his lead, yanking out one of your larger scales from your own back and sliding it to him. It makes the difference between you two obvious, his green scale muddled with age compared to your shiny one.
"Arrogant muppet." The gentle way he picks up your scale clashes with his harsh words, cradling it in his hand like it'll crack at the slightest of touches, his face reflected in the surface.
You grin, "Just confident." You feel his sharp eyes judge every minute twitch of your fingers as you pick up his scale. Price's poker face hides the way his heart melts at the loving way you brush a thumb across the surface, how it throbs when you don't immediately attempt to make it shine like some whelps once did, accepting him for how he is by putting it in your breast pocket.
God, he doesn't even know how much he'd fantasized about something like this when he was still young, vestiges of a purr escaping his throat at the tender way you treat his scale. "Right." He shakes his head and places your scale in his own breast pocket, handing you another stack of papers. "Get back to work."
You grin and do as he says, wings twitching as a sign of joy, your tail squeezing down on his and receiving a squeeze in kind.
Price feels like a horny teen when he lays awake in bed late at night with your scale held between his claws. He feels stupid for feeling so giddy at the thought of having a mate, a proper mate, yet his body thinks differently. Just holding it in his hand is enough to make him grow hot, your scent still clings to the scale and Price finds himself holding it close to his nose to familiarize himself with it and Hell his body loves it, cocks growing hard in record time and his thighs wet with slick. The poor thing doesn't even know what to relieve first, his free hand constantly going between stroking his cocks and fingering himself, mind craving the heat of another dragon that he'd been deprived of.
What Price doesn't know is that you're in the same boat, biting your arm to silence yourself as you imagine it's Price you're breeding instead of a pillow, splintering the headboard from how hard you're gripping it in an attempt to not damage the scale.
Then shit hits the fan when during a routine mission you two are ambushed, and while two dragons are no easy prey for mankind, humans have long since gone from using rocks and sticks. You catch sight of a sniper's scope glint seconds before the bullet targets Price, and in only a few seconds to think you throw yourself in the way, Price's scale in your breast pocket puts enough resistance to make you survive the bullet, but you feel it crack, and that. . . that sets you off.
Price doesn't even have the time to lift his gun before you're tearing through the battlefield like a man possessed, anger burning like a volcano in your chest for trying to hurt him, elemental breath and draconic strength unleashed to it's fullest potential.
And Price? Price watches the show with that same heat burning in his belly, forced to bite his lip to silence the pleased purrs as he rubs his thighs together while you tear flesh from bone, mate flashing in his mind. Look how he protects you His mind purrs, Good mate. Perfect mate.
"I'm sorry." You whimper when you've finally calmed down, the battlefield nothing but a ruined crater and the shards of his scale held tenderly in your cupped hands. "I failed, I-"
"Come here." Price cuts you off quickly and pulls you down into a harsh and desperate kiss, all teeth and tongue and need. He parts just a fraction of an inch, "You passed." He growls and only then do you notice the sharp arousal in his scent, your animalistic hindbrain jumping for joy as you kiss back because holy shit he considers you worthy.
And now that he's found his mate? You best believe his body is going to make up for all the centuries he'd spent alone.
It doesn't even take a week for him to enter heat, waking in a daze with his twin cocks hard and his thighs glistening with slick, your scent lingering in the sheets and your side of the bed still warm. The walls almost shake from how deeply he growls when he registers that you're not next to him, just enough sense in his head to throw on a towel around his waist before angerly stomping through the halls to find you, sniffing you out like a bloodhoud.
"Bloody muppet." Price growls as he yanks you by the horns back to his room, the scent of his arousal so potent you're struck dumb, letting yourself be pushed down. Price's claws slice through your clothes, his hole so slick and eager for you he doesn't even need to stretch, just jumps onto your lap and in one fluid motion takes one of your cocks to the root. "Fuckin' finally." Price hisses, instantly setting a harsh pace of bouncing on your cock that would have had a lesser race end up with a crushed pelvis.
You grip his hips for dear life, surging up to mark his neck and shoulders with bites as he does the same, his ass clapping against your thighs. "Mate." Price moans, hole clenching around you, his cocks leaking against your stomach. "My mate." He grips your hair and pulls you into a bruising kiss, "Going to last long for me yeah?" He asks, a bit of mockery on his flushed face as he feels you cum inside him, riding you through your orgasm as the sudden onslaught of sensations frazzles the intelligent parts of your brain. "Not going to disappoint me now are you?"
Good thing dragons have really short refractory periods.
"Not a chance." You snarl and flip him over suddenly, rumbling purrs escaping your chest from the surprised sound he makes. You attempt to pin him down and he squirms out of your hold, another bout of wrestling breaking out between you that has you two tumbling off the bed and onto the ground.
"That so whelp?" Price breathes out when you manage to pin him down, your strong hand keeping his face flush with the floor. "Do you really think you can keep up?" A pleased thrill runs down his spine from the sensation of your weight bearing down on him, his knees automatically locking up to hike his ass up, tail flipping up to display his slick hole for you.
"Do you?" You counter, one hand on his head, the other pressing both of your dicks together, your two tips pressing against his ass. "You're so wet and desperate, should have just pinned you down the moment I saw you instead of courting you." With one sharp thrust you push in, a pained and elated moan tearing out of his throat at the sensation of your twin cocks spreading him wider than any toy ever could, scratching that itch he'd had for who knows how long.
The stretch and burn and pleasure muddles his mind, reduces him to low animalistic snarls and growls as he does his best to push his hips into yours. "Hurry the fuck up." Price orders, whole body shaking from the way you set a harsh pace, bashing on his prostate, your balls slapping against his own, each hard thrust pushing and pulling his face across the floor. "I'll- fuck- fall asleep."
"You sure about that?" You push your weight further on him, forcing his wing to spread out, your own partially wrapping around him, "Seems to me like-" A bit of elemental breath leaves your throat when one particularly strong thrust has his hole clamping down on you, his back arching to push his hips as close to yours as one of his cocks spews cum on the floor, "-like you're not in a place to order me around."
"You- ah-fuck-ah- wanker." His insult would be a lot more hurtful if he didn't whine like a bitch in heat, both of you devolving into primitive snarls and growls with the only thought on both of your minds being the need to fill Price with as much of your cum as you physically can.
#Spittballs with Gnome#Idk how this happened#my hyperfixation got wayyy out of hand#n my monsterfucking got out of hand#cod mw2#gnome correspondence#x reader#trinkets from the hoard#male reader#top male reader#captain john price#john price x male reader#john price x reader#top dom reader#cod modern warfare#cod smut#cod x male reader
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Orc boyfriend with what he thinks is a tiny, smol mate who's so smol, so delicate, so sweet... They're actually pretty firmly built for a human, while a bit short, along with being stubborn and sassy and ready to bite heads off for their adorable XL size boyfriend.
I've got so many orc stories going right now, but you know I'm not mad about it ^_^ I love Orcs <3 There are so many different ways to write them. I have another couple of Orc asks I'm working on, as well 🥵
Orc (Cedar) x thick f reader
Word Count: 5K
Tw: sfw orc fluff, some brief descriptions of battle, brief mention of sa, size difference
More monster fluff here
“Put the stick down, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”
You scoffed at the soldiers circling you, their eyes dark with lust.
“We just want to have some fun,” another said, his eyes drifting over your shapely hips. “Don’t you owe us a debt of gratitude for rescuing you?”
You squeezed the iron fire poker that you had gripped in your hand.
“Rescuing me? You didn’t get your rocks off burning down the damn village?”
“It was a strategic maneuver,” the leader of the armored men said with an oily smile. “We are here to liberate you.”
“By assaulting me?” you snapped.
There was not a doubt in your mind that the second you lowered your weapon, they were going to drag you into some dark corner and act out all of the sick thoughts they had echoed on their faces.
Your King’s soldiers weren’t good guys. When they heard there was an Orc camp nearby, they couldn’t be bothered to attack it directly. Instead, they burned down your village. They said it was to prevent them from resupplying.
It was true you did business with the Orcs, who were technically your enemy, but they never acted like enemies. While big and quite scary-looking, they paid in gold and were always polite to the women running the shops. You never felt the least bit unsafe alone with one, and occasionally, they’d help you out with things that needed done– fixing roofs and cartwheels. The men of the town had all been conscripted for the war, so it mostly the ladies keeping the village afloat. The soldiers had made a whole lot of children and the elderly homeless.
“Come on, sweetie, this game is getting tiresome.”
One of the soldiers dared to approach you, and you didn’t hesitate a second, swinging your poker and smacking him so hard in the head that his helmet crunched. He collapsed on the broken boards that had once been the floor of your little noodle shop.
“Now that’s a crime!” the leader barked.
He waved to his accomplices.
“Get in there and restrain her!”
Their eyes fell on the collapsed soldier, and they looked between one another, trying to sort out who was next to get a whomping.
You flexed your wrist, preparing to swing at whoever came at you next, when you heard the heavy steps of an Orc approaching. The soldiers were too inexperienced to know what that sound meant. You’d heard them approach every day at dinner time for several months. It wasn’t until he was shouldering his way through what was left of your door that they took notice.
“The enemy approaches! Your swords!”
The Orc you knew as Ash, wrinkled his brow and let out a lilting call to gather his brethren. The ground rumbled as more heavy feet ran towards you.
Wood splintered, and what remained of the ceiling creaked as they tore the walls away, making more room for a fight.
Faced with five nine-foot Orc barbarians armed with axes almost as big as their bodies, the soldiers tried to run for it. You screamed as they threatened to trample you, trying to force their way through the back wall, but they never reached you.
The Orcs didn’t need to draw their weapons, grabbing every soldier and smacking them against the ground until they stopped moving—a gruesome way to die, but practical.
When the danger was crumpled into a wet gnarl of bones and metal, their eyes turned to you. Ash said something to his friends in their own language before he stomped across the room and plucked you up like a kitten, cradling you in his arm.
“Hey, What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Quiet, little one. You’ll give us away.”
You puckered your lips at him, annoyed, as if the stomping of five tons of muscle was quiet. When you tried to wave your poker at him, he plucked it out of your hand but didn’t drop it, tucking it instead in his belt. He said something else to his friends before turning to split away from them.
You had no reason to panic. The Orcs had never harmed you, but being taken away from the group put frightening thoughts in your head, and you instinctively started screaming.
The Orc sighed, sounding tired, when four more soldiers came skidding around a corner, swords in hand. You looked up at him apologetically, smacking your hand over your mouth to stay the scream that didn’t want to stop.
He set you on the roof of what was left of a building and pat you on the head, a gesture that you read as “stay” before pulling out his axe. You weren’t going anywhere, even if you wanted to. The drop was fifteen feet down, and the stairs were just charcoal at the base of the building.
“Attack!” the leader of the soldiers shouted, but their moves in their heavy metal armor were slow. Ash swung his arm in a sweeping stroke that sliced four of them in half where they stood. The other one, eyes wide with horror, turned tail and ran.
Replacing his axe, he picked you up again and headed into the woods. This time, you had enough sense to keep quiet.
You’d never been to the Orc camp before, but you heard it before you saw it. The brassy sound of a grinder and hammers on metal rang through the trees, blended with the shouts of the Orcs in their language. There were lots of huge tents and fires spotted here and there. The camp was buzzing with activity. Orcs ran around shouting at one another, some gathering weapons, some sending groups in the direction you came. You recognized many of them as some of your customers. They often came in groups and hauled away vats of the noodle stew you sold.
A few Orcs waved at Ash but didn’t pay you much mind as he carried you to the nicest-looking tent. It had a banner outside of it with a gold bear embroidered into the fabric. Ash set you on the ground at the door and handed you your poker before patting you on the back, indicating you should go in.
“What’s in there?” you asked.
He said something in Orcish that you didn’t understand and walked away. There were too many other giants around to attempt an escape, so you pulled aside the fur covering the door and peeked inside.
“Hello?”
Your question was returned with a deep voice, smooth as a glassy pond.
“Enter, little one.”
Taking a few steps inside, you were faced with what you could only describe as the most handsome Orc you’d ever seen. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair fell over his shoulder in a long, dark sheet with small braids here and there. His tusks were large, but they seemed only to highlight how well his lips were formed. His features were harsh and defined but not unattractive, with a straight nose and deep-set gold eyes. The only thing you could point out as a flaw was a dark scar from his forehead to the right corner of his jaw.
You assumed the Orcs were blunt tools, sprinting into battle with no real plan, but this one was sitting at a high table examining maps with a book in his hand.
“I’m…I’m not sure why I’m here,” you said, brandishing your poker, though you didn’t feel like you were in any particular danger.
“I asked Ash to fetch you,” he said without looking up. “You’re the noodle shop woman.”
“My name is (Y/N), not “noodle shop woman,” and I don’t have a shop anymore. The soldiers burned it.”
He put his book down and turned his gold eyes to you.
“That’s why you’re here.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes drifted over you before they settled on the poker you were still holding up.
“You were feeding most of the camp. If there’s no shop to visit, you can make noodles here.”
You blinked up at him.
“Oh…Am I your prisoner?”
He chuckled.
“If you’d like to go back to your people, I won’t stop you, but judging how they burned down your village without hesitation, I think you’re safer with us.”
You had to admit that made some sense, but you still weren’t buying it.
“I can’t stay here with you!”
He tipped his head, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly.
“Why is that, little one?”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“First of all, I’m NOT little, and second, an Orc camp is no place for a lady.”
A shudder that had nothing to do with fear shot down your spine as his eyes moved over your body. He crossed the room, scooping you up, and setting you on his table. Your feet dangled far from the ground.
“What- What are you doing?” you snapped, waving your weapon at him.
“My neck was hurting from looking down at you. You’re very short.”
The sparkle in his eyes told you he was teasing you, which drew heat to your cheeks.
“Maybe compared to you. You’re unnecessarily large. What are you doing with all of that muscle? Are you going to arm wrestle your books?” you pouted, eyes drifting to the massive bicep peeking out of the fur vest he wore.
He laughed out loud, gracing you with a wide smile.
“You’ll fit right in here.”
You raised your nose at him, trying to look unconvinced.
“Where will I even sleep? All of your tents are big and drafty.”
“Since you’ve declared your intention to court me, I wouldn’t mind if you slept here.”
“Declared my intention to— Where did you get that idea?”
He flicked a fingertip at your poker.
“In the old days, Orc females came to their males' tent and threatened them into submission with their favorite weapon.”
Your cheeks burned like hot irons, and you almost dropped it.
“Well…I’m not trying to court you. It’s for protection.”
He snorted at you but nodded his head.
“If you say so, little one, but it will be much warmer in my tent if it’s drafts you’re worried about.”
“I don’t even know your name. Ash called you something in your language. I didn’t understand…”
He examined one of the feet you had dangling over the edge of his table. Compared to his big hand, it was tiny.
“Cautalin, it means something close to general in your language, but you can call me Cedar. That’s what my mother named me.”
Your eyes traveled over his barrel chest and thick arms.
“Seems about right,” you said, finally setting your poker down.
He picked it up, looked it over, and tested the weight in his hand.
“Not a bad choice,” he said. “Light but effective.”
You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, feeling cheeky.
“Do you feel like submitting?”
You watched a flicker of heat ignite in his eyes, and he slowly set it down.
“Come on, let's get you to bed, killer.”
He picked you up again, walking you over to a large pallet covered in furs.
“This is your bed.”
He gave you another smile.
“We’re in the middle of a battle; I won't be sleeping tonight. It's all yours.”
Though you weren't quite sure about sleeping in his bed, weariness overtook you at the sight of the comfortable, cozy furs, and you crawled in, wrapping yourself up to your chin in blankets.
He put your poker next to you and blew out the candle, slipping out the front flap as you dozed.
—
You woke to yelling, but not the sound of battle. Crawling out of your furs, you picked up your poker and peeled out of the flap Cedar used as a door. Another Orc you didn't recognize was the one yelling, and Cedar had his arms crossed, looking bored.
Your eyes drifted to about twenty women, elderly, and children, cowering in the chilly morning air, their faces streaked with soot from the fire.
“They’re our enemies!” the strange Orc barked.
“Really, Asvoth? Are you really afraid of a handful of children and their mothers?”
“This is a war camp, not a nursery.”
“It's my camp, not yours. They stay.”
“I outrank you. I can take your command.”
Cedar snorted.
“Yet the King hasn't trusted you with a unit of your own. You're nothing more than an errand boy with a fancy title. Any of these children could take your job.”
Asvoth’s face turned a deep forest green from both embarrassment and indignation. He yanked the sword he wore on his back to his hand. Without thinking, you hopped in front of Cedar, waving your poker at the intruder. You had no idea why, a fact you only considered after you’d already put yourself in harm's way. Still, you'd made your move so the only thing to do was follow through.
“You heard Cedar! We’re not leaving! Get on if you know what's good for you!”
Asvoth sprung forward, dropping his sword toward your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain, but there was only the clang of metal. Opening one eye, you glanced up to see Cedar’s axe blocking the other Orc’s blow.
There was a moment when you thought Asvoth might overtake him, but Cedar’s muscles weren't all for show. He shoved the other Orc back, and he toppled over, landing on his butt in the dirt. His sword landed in front of the children with a CLANG.
“Woah!” the little ones cheered, circling around it like it was a strange animal.
A few of them tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy, making their eyes pop even wider.
Cedar nodded at him, and a pair of Orcs from the camp dragged Asvoth up by the collar of his tunic, pushing him towards the forest.
“I'm reporting this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled towards the woods.
Cedar waved a hand at one of his Orcs, beckoning him closer.
“You and Orin follow him and make sure the King gets our side of the story, not his.”
When the situation seemed settled, Cedar looked down at you and patted your head.
“Thank you for your protection, little suitor,” he said with a smirk.
Your cheeks blew up in flames, but you puffed your chest and looked at the children watching Ash pick up the abandoned sword. They hopped around him like little bunnies, begging him to teach them to use it.
“I have no idea what you mean! I’m here to make noodles! Point me in the direction of my kitchen! These little mouths are probably hungry.”
He chuckled, but guided you with a large hand on your back to a large tent filled with whatever food supplies they had rescued from the village. You wrinkled your nose at the primitive workspace, but there were enough flour and eggs to work with. You were surprised to find someone had stuck in a lower table, perfect for your height. After washing your hands in a water basin, you got to cooking.
“What are you still doing here?” you asked Cedar, who had plopped down in a chair and was reading a book.
He smiled.
“Reading.”
You blinked at him, putting your floury fists on your hips.
“Are you surveilling me? I’m not going to poison you all! I have to eat this too, you know.”
He tipped his head to the side, his gold eyes sparkling in the makeshift hearth.
“The sound of cooking is soothing. I liked to study in the kitchen while my mother cooked when I was a boy.”
You looked him up and down.
“I can’t imagine you as a child.”
You thought for a second, tapping your chin.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Orc child, actually.”
He looked back down at his book, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.
“You will,” he said as he flipped a page.
Your brow wrinkled at that nebulous statement, but you knew everyone was hungry after the long night, so you got back to work.
By midmorning, you had a stewpot big enough to feed an army filled with noodles, vegetables, and what little bit of venison the Orcs had been able to hunt between the battle.
“All done,” you said, clapping your hands and creating a puff of flour in the air.
Cedar got up and shouted something to his men, and two Orcs appeared to carry the big vat into the central circle so it could be served. You felt a sense of satisfaction when all the bowls were passed out and the children, tired humans, and bloodied Orcs were eating. The mothers spoke quietly between one another, while the children could hardly sit still, their big eyes following the Orcs every movement.
“Here.”
You looked up to find Cedar holding a bowl out to you. A grumbling stomach had you accepting it, and he patted the seat next to him for you to sit down. The two of you ate quietly for a moment before you asked him a question.
“What are you going to do with all of us?”
“Hmm?” he asked.
“Well, I mean when the battle is over. We have nowhere to go. Our town is destroyed.”
He looked at the children who, after scarfing down their bowls, were engaged in some game with Ash.
“I was hoping you would all return to our capitol city with us. That’s where we live when we’re not fighting.”
Your eyebrows jumped.
“To the Orc city? We’re humans. Don’t your people hate us?”
He shrugged.
“There are some weak minds who reveal their own fragility with their hate, but the rest of us like your kind. This whole war started because we wished to create allies amongst the humans.”
“What? The soldiers said you attacked!”
He chuckled.
“Your king has a very effective propaganda engine. That’s probably the only thing about him that is effective. We sent a delegation party to him to discuss our interest in mingling with you humans. You all are prolific; despite your size, you’re a sturdy bunch. We thought marriages would bolster our numbers and strengthen your stock. Your King attacked, and we were forced to defend ourselves. The force that attacked us was decimated, and he declared war.”
“You mean…you wish to mate with us?”
His eyes slid down to you, and he gave you a sharp nod.
“Is that so surprising?”
You thought about it for a moment.
“I don’t know…Maybe a little. You’re so strong. You’re not afraid we’ll diminish you?”
His thick hand cupped your chin and rubbed some flour away with his thumb. Your heart raced at his touch.
“Size is not what makes us strong. Our strength lies in our unbreakable bonds. Your King will be defeated, not because his forces are less than ours, but because he orders his men to betray his own people.”
He nodded towards the children, who were playing chicken fight on Ash and another Orc’s shoulders.
“They will remember it was men who burned down their village, stole their fathers from them, assaulted their mothers and Orcs who took them in, fed them, and helped them smile again.
“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.
His smile widened.
“I will remember you took up arms to protect me against an enemy twice your size. You belong among the us.”
Suddenly the wool dress you wore was much too hot.
“I should go wash these before the next meal,” you squeaked, grabbing his empty bowl and scurrying away.
Once safe in the kitchen tent, you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to still your heart. Why did Cedar make you feel so fluttery? You’d never felt this way around anyone before. You usually kept to yourself and steered clear of romance. It had to be the battle, you decided. You were still hyped up from the night before. In a day or so, you were sure it would pass.
Dunking empty bowls in ice-cold river water helped cool your thoughts as you tried to focus on what to make for dinner. The Orcs stocks were pretty hefty, but they and the children ate a lot. You’d noticed many of the parents tipping some of their bowls into their little one’s, making sure they were fed properly in case the next meal didn’t come.
It saddened you it had to be this way. What horrible person decides to burn down their own citizens' village? Who was the King even protecting you from? Not the Orcs, that’s for sure.
A loud rabble outside dragged your attention away from the dishes, and you picked up your poker before peeking your head outside.
A few Orc scouts were speaking in rapid Orcish to Cedar. When they paused, his eyes immediately looked around for the children and frowned before he spoke to you all.
“The human King has sent reinforcements. They will close on our camp by nightfall.”
The mothers all gathered their children to their skirts, looking weary.
“Women and children to the kitchen tent! We will keep you safe, but you must stay hidden!”
You made way as a small stampede of humans rushed past you, many pushing their children to hide under the table.
“What’s happening?” You asked Cedar as people and Orcs rushed around.
He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, looking disturbed.
“Someone ran back to your King with a story that we’d kidnapped you, not taken you in from starving in a burnt-down village. We will win this fight, but then we will have to make the journey back to the capitol. They will keep attacking if they think you’re within their grasp. Do you think you can explain this to your people? We don’t intend to take anyone by force, but I wouldn’t trust the King’s soldiers.”
“Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”
You hurried back to the kitchen, where the humans were muttering to one another.
“Should we flee to the forest?” Isla, the former town candlemaker, asked. “Can we depend on the Orcs to protect us?”
Another woman scoffed.
“We can’t trust anyone. These Orcs are kind now, but they’ll sell us out at the drop of a hat.”
Linda, a quiet woman who worked as a weaver, whimpered.
“But we’ll starve in the forest alone. Word is the King’s men have raized every town for fifty miles!”
You inserted yourself into the conversation, holding up your hands.
“No one needs to escape to the woods. The Orcs are going to take us back to their capitol to keep us safe.”
Linda squeaked in horror.
“The Orc capitol?! Where they can enslave us?!”
“They have no plan to enslave you. Don’t you want your children to be safe? We will be safe behind their walls!”
“Or…when the King takes the city we’ll all be hung as traitors!”
“Shawna, don’t put that in her head. Linda, we’ll be fine. I trust Cedar.”
You paused on that thought, realizing not only was it true, it didn’t make any sense. You’d only just met him. Your conversation was interrupted by the shouting of men outside.
“We’ll talk about this later,” you hissed, “Here, take this.”
You armed the humans with whatever haphazard weapons you could find, mostly butcher knives and skillets.
Outside, you could hear the clang of weapons and the squelching sounds of metal piercing flesh.
“What's happening?” Linda asked, trying to get around you so she could peek out of the tent flap.
“Stay back!” You barked. “If they see us, we’re in trouble!”
You could tell she was losing it, hopping from one foot to another, her hands getting slippery on her knife.
“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go with the Orcs. Even a human monster is better than them!”
Before you could grab her, she skipped through the doorway, running wildly into the fray. The other humans gathered around you, their opinions spilling out like loose marbles.
“What is she thinking?!”
“Linda, come back!”
“Let her go, she’s nuts.”
You clenched your jaw, squeezing your iron poker.
“She’s scared. I’ll go get her…you all stay put!”
Before anyone could stop you, you darted after her, trying to catch sight of her red skirt through the mess of armour-clad humans and massive Orcs. The King had sent a much larger force than the one that had burned down your village. The battle around you was brutal. You almost slipped on a puddle of blood, your eyes frantically searching for Linda.
You found her pointing her knife with shaking hands at a human soldier.
“What are you doing? I’m a human, too!”
“The King ordered you all dead!” he snarled, raising his sword at her. “No witnesses! Come on, do your duty to the kingdom, and die quietly!”
Panicking, you launched yourself at him, whacking him with your poker as you barreled into him. The two of you went down, metal clashing as you fell and dropped your weapons. Both of you scrabbled for purchase in the blood-soaked earth. You could hear Linda screeching beside you as you tried to overpower the soldier. His armor, now slick with mud, made it impossible to get a hold of him, and he triumphantly dragged himself to his sword, clumsily grabbing it by the blade and flinging it in your direction. You saw the metal flash in the firelight before pain exploded between your eyes, and your vision went black.
—
“Please tell me she’s not dead,” you heard Linda’s voice from far away.
Isla scoffed.
“You’d better hope she’s not, Linda. This is all your fault!”
“I'm sorry!” she simpered, “I made a mistake! I thought the soldiers were here to free us!”
“Free us from what? A good meal and a safe place to sleep?”
You dragged your eyelids open, vision blurry for a moment before it cleared.
“What…what happened?” you murmured.
“She’s awake!” Isla gasped.
You felt her cool hands against your cheek.
“Take it slow, here; have some water.”
She pushed a tin cup into your hands, and you wet your palette with a few sips. Looking around, you were surrounded by the humans, all looking very concerned.
“Is everyone okay?” you asked.
Isla smirked, and the other women tittered a bit.
“Thanks to you, I suppose. That chieftain or warlord or whatever saw you get knocked in the head and went berzerk. He killed most of the soldiers all by himself.”
Another woman poked her head out of the tent.
“She’s okay! You guys can untie him!”
“Untie who? Is the battle over?”
Isla nodded.
“Yeah, all the soldiers are dead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can move the camp before the King sends anymore. Can you believe he ordered them to kill us? I guess so he could claim the Orcs did it and get more support for the war.”
She smirked at you.
“And as for who's tied up, your Orc friend thought you were dead. The others had to tie him up so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. He was ready to storm the King’s stronghold! You ought to see the ropes they had to use…thick as your waist!”
You heard the roll of stomping feet, and Cedar burst through the tent flap. His hair was wild, and his tunic was red with blood. He fell to his knees in front of you, holding his hands as if he couldn’t decide if you were safe to touch.
“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully prodding the bandage you had wrapped around your head. “That monster didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”
“She’ll have a scar,” Isla said, “but I think she’s fine.”
Cedar’s face lightened, pulling you towards him, his big arms wrapping around you.
“Thank the goddess,” he sighed with a heavy breath. “I thought they’d taken you from me.”
He cupped your cheeks between his palms when he finally let you go.
“You are so stupidly brave, little one,” he gasped, eyes wet. “You have more honor than your people deserve.”
Behind him, Isla waved the women out of the tent, leaving the two of you alone. Not used to so much intimate attention, your cheeks warmed, and you weren’t sure where to look.
“I just didn’t want Linda to get hurt,” you muttered.
He gave you an odd smile, scooping you out of the cot you’d woken up in.
“Once I get you to our home in the capitol, I’m going to have to keep you locked up for your own safety,” he said, patting your head.
You looked up at him from where you were tucked, leaning on his bicep.
“Our home?”
He grinned at you, counting on his fingers.
“First step to Orc courting: Threaten your desired with your weapon. Done. Step two: Allure them with your cooking skills, cooking or hunting something delicious. Done. And the final step: Display your honor through a grand act of bravery. Done! You’ve effectively and thoroughly seduced me, little one! All that’s left is to take you home!”
He tipped your chin up with one thick finger and dipped his head to press his lips against yours. Your whole body felt like it was made of butterflies, every nerve flickering with excitement. Despite being covered in blood and mud, his kiss tasted like honey and sage. It felt like a warm cup of tea on a chilly morning. Your eyelashes fluttered shut and you sank into his warmth, despite yourself, happy to be alive and in his arms.
“Oh!” you gasped as he straightened his neck.
Your mouth fell open, unsure what to say. Before you could think of anything, Cedar carried you out of the tent, shouting orders at his men to pack up the camp so you could leave for the capitol.
#monster x girl#orc x reader#monster x reader#x reader#yandere x reader#soft yandere#orc boyfriend#monster romance#monster fluff#male yandere#yandere fluff#yandere romance#monster boyfriend#orc#orc romance
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｡‧General dating headcanons ༻༉
Alastor x Gn! Reader
༉‧.tw - Ep 5 Spoilers, slight nsfw, mentions of cannibalism.
༉‧.words - 0.7k
༉‧.a/n - Just general dating headcanons for my boy </3 I apologize for any mistakes English is not my first language
At first you gained his respect for respecting his boundaries and not stepping over the line and in return he respects yours (not really). Somehow you ended up dating?? So lucky you.
Alastor is such a gentleman. He'd treat you like royalty!!
He adores cooking for everyone but when he'd cook for you Alastor be extra careful to not fuck things up and add extra flavours. Loves making Jambalaya for you!! Would definitely tell you all the stories about him and his mom cooking together.
I bet he'd love to cook or bake with you. I mean just look at you smiling and giggling like a child!! Adorable (in a good way)
Would try atleast one time to make you try demon meat. If you like it he's very pleased but if not?? He's fine with it too. Not everyone likes the taste of it.
Your relationship would be private so PDA is off the table. Maybe linking your arms together, a hand on the waist or a quick kiss on the cheek when no one is looking. It doesn't mean that he doesn't love you but he has a high status in hell. He wouldn't want you to be a target for other overlords or sinners.
At first only Rosie would know about your relationship but as time passed by Charlie found out and passed the information to Vaggie then Vagatha accidentally fucked up and passed the information to Angel Dust and again and again. Mimzy somehow found out too.
And as a little revenge for Alastor from kicking her out of the hotel (ep 5) she passed the info to other overlords.
So now sinners are aware of you guys being together and The Radio Demon is not very pleased with it. He started to get a tiny bit more protective of you then he was before. However when someone saw you it leaded to them running off, scattering because they're absolutely terrified of what could happen to them if they did anything and I mean anything wrong in your presence.
They looked at you wrong.. Oops where did their eyes went? They touched you without your permission. Suddenly their arms are nowhere to be found! They tried to hit on you and now they are missing. I wonder where they could be??
As i said he is a gentleman!! Opening doors for you, lending you his coat when you're cold, pulling out the chair and kissing the back of your hand.
Every Wednesday he'd bring you a bouquet and each one of the flowers he'd choose has its meaning. Isn't it cute??
His love language is Acts of service and quality time. Alastor loves when you bring him black coffee or something to eat when he is broadcasting someone's screams on the radio when he didn't even ask you for it. Like what do you mean you remember his daily hours of his "work".
Takes you out on dates without an accasion though he prefers to keep it private then to go to a club. He may take you out on a walk in the garden full of red roses and a buetiful fountain however Alastor would also love to cook you your favourite meal and eat it for as an romantic dinner with youuuuu!!
I don't think that even in private he's a cuddler, he doesn't like psychical touch but doesn't mind it from people he is close with. Maybe if he is feeling a little extra today he'd let you hug him as a good morning. In return he'd kiss the back of your hand.
Not exactly much of a kisser either pheraps a quick peck on the cheek or on the forehead?? This doesn't include the times he's feeling extra romantic and dips you in a long passionate kiss. But he's not the time to do full make out session yk??
One day Alastor would tell you that he likes pineapples on pizza and if you're not a big fan of it (me neither) you would be like WHAAAAT.
Alastor loves seeing you in his clothes it's just looking cute on you and kinda turns him on
#Spotify#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#alastor#alastor the radio demon#the radio demon#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#dating headcanons
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steel drum weight of me
joel miller x fem!reader, 18+ mdni
summary: joel comes back from his wall shift with hands in need of some serious tlc. but why stop there? | 3.2k
warnings: fem!reader, fluff turned to smut, a tender blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie
a/n: this could be in the same universe as come care about me and watching you with wonder but who knows. what matters is it's a post-part i jackson au and all is well. this is my first fic in a while and i hammered it out today so hopefully it's coherent. <3 series masterlist here.
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Jackson looks its best in the winter.
You've always thought so with its endless skies gone white, blending in with the grey clouds carrying the constant threat of snow. The peaks you never tire of, such ethereal beauty in a world otherwise gone to shit, looming over town with a steadfastness that you can fool yourself into thinking means protection, means safety. In reality, they're just something nice to look at when you have a free moment.
It's also fucking cold.
But you can deal with that. You've spent more winters in the last twenty years than you'd like to remember mostly outside, freezing your ass off, fingers so numb you could barely pull the trigger. But when it counted, you did.
Winter now means a town full of children laughing and having snowball fights. It means big pots of stew and your pick of hats, scarves, and a good pair of boots. It means a warm house to go back to every night, a bed to crawl into, and a man you love to hold you.
Things could be worse.
You're home first today. Joel and Ellie are on the wall and have been since mid-morning. The light is already going, the sun dipping behind the Tetons, sky that winter mix of purple and pink that makes the breath catch in your throat no matter how many times you see it. There's a flu going around and taking people out for a few days at most but it means fewer bodies free for the wall and for patrol. You're pulling a double tomorrow and you're already looking forward to the hot bath you'll take after.
Today, though, you change from your work clothes to something softer, a sweater that travels between your drawer and Joel's, thick socks Dina gave you for your birthday last year. It's hard to heat houses like yours the way you used to but it works well enough to fight the chill so long as you layer. That's the name of the game these days: adapting.
You set the kettle to boil and forgo thinking about dinner for a few hours. Joel won't drink tea with you but if Ellie stops by she'll have some. Maybe you can convince her to watch the movie you pulled from the library this week. You love him, but Joel just doesn't appreciate comedies.
The front door creaks, the bell you have hanging from the doorknob jingling.
"S'me," Joel calls into the house. "You home?"
"Making tea." The kettle isn't steaming yet so you lean against the counter and wait.
The sounds of his return are familiar even though you can't see him. He locks the door with a click, shrugs his jacket off with a sigh. He sits down on the bench you put in the entryway so he can take his boots off. The thunk of one and then the other. He'll tuck them next to yours under the coat rack. When the weather is bad you try to come in the back door so not as to track snow through the house but you don't want his back to get any worse so a bench in front makes sense.
The kettle screams. You pull it off quick and pour the water into your mug -- a chipped green one with a dinosaur holding a cookie that you find endlessly amusing -- and leave it to steep. The floor creaks under your socked feet as you make your way into the hall. Joel still sits on the bench digging into the meat of one palm with his thumb like he's working the feeling back into them.
He looks up and his jaw softens a little. His cheeks are rosy from the cold and his hair a mess from the wind. "Evenin," he says.
"How was the wall?"
"Fine." He stops messing with his hands and rolls his shoulders back with a grunt. "Ellie swears she saw a moose on her last patrol. Said to tell you. I think she's fuckin' with me. How was your shift?"
"Fine," you echo. "Is she coming for dinner?"
He shakes his head. "Game night at Jesse's."
You cross the remaining distance between you and he parts his legs automatically so you can stand between his knees. You run a hand through his hair, pushing the greying fringe back from his eyes. He looks up at you and finally smiles, just a little. You drag your hand down the side of his face and enjoy the feel of his beard on your skin.
"Maybe she did see a moose." He rolls his eyes and brings a hand up to cover yours. You lean down to kiss him but something catches your eye and you pull back, tugging your hand from beneath his to circle his wrist.
"Jesus, Joel." He makes a surprised sound.
"Hey now, what --"
You pull his other hand from his knee and hold them both close to your face, turning them over in the light of the entryway. "You didn't wear gloves, did you?"
He just shrugs. That means someone else on the wall -- probably Ellie -- forgot theirs and he handed his own over.
The skin of his knuckles is dry and cracked, the rest of his palm dry and cold to the touch. You've seen them bloody, broken and bruised, and compared to that, this is tame. Welcome, almost. But you know he won't do a damn thing about it, let himself bleed rather than take a second to make things better.
And you've never minded this part. Taking care of him, making him slow down and rest for even just a little bit. You both know you'd get your hands dirty or worse for him and he for you, but this is the part he has trouble with. So you take the reigns.
It's part of how you fit together -- part of how you look after each other.
"We've got something for this." Joel looks unamused. You press a light kiss to one of his knuckles and his nostrils flare. "Go sit on the couch," you say.
"I'm fine --"
"Joel, they'll bleed if you don't let me --"
"I said I'm --"
"Hey," you say. He hears the finality of your tone and lets you have it, sighing your name in one long breath.
"Alright," he says. "Move, then."
You press a quick kiss to his lips and release his hands to step back. He stands with his usual grunt and you have to stop yourself from leaning into the width of him, from wrapping your arms around him and slotting your nose in his neck and never letting go.
"It's that salve Dina brought over last week," you tell him. "The new one for the winter. Smells nice. Good for this kind of stuff."
Joel makes his way to the couch and you fetch the tin from the kitchen.
"What's it made of?"
"Uh -- oil? And some flowers, I think? Wax, maybe."
He's settled into the cushions when you return, smirking. "It's okay to say you don't fuckin' know."
You sit next to him and unscrew the top, folding your legs so you're facing him. "Well then, I don't fuckin' know." You're sure to imitate his drawl.
"Cute."
"Gimme those hands, big guy."
The salve smells faintly of lavender and it's cold on your fingertips. Joel extends his right hand and you work it into his skin slowly, extra careful around where it's cracked and split. You feel his eyes on you but you let him look.
"Feels good, huh?" He hums. "If you'd wear your gloves then --"
"What was I gonna do, let her freeze?" So it was Ellie, then. You flick your gaze up and find his brow furrowed. If you have a free hand you'd smooth the crease with your thumb.
"No," you say. "Guess it's a damn good thing you have me here, then."
He chuckles, a throaty, rusty sound. "Guess so."
You finish the first hand and motion for his second. He gives it to you and you dig your thumbs into the meat of his palm. Joel lets you touch him whenever you like, for the most part. Pressing into his side when you walk down the street in town, trailing your lips down his neck until he whines just a little in your bedroom. You've worked knots out of his shoulders and cleaned blood from surface wounds. You can never get enough of him, of his warmth, the expanse of his tanned skin all yours for the taking.
And, boy, he touches you back.
So you take your time. You rub the salve between his fingers, over the ridges of knuckles split so many times you don't even know about. His hands are rough even when they're not dry and cracking, callused from years of hard work. From years of violence and playing guitar, shooting a gun and holding the people he loves. Dotted with scars and nicks, hands that have touched every part of you.
Joel's slightly slimy finger taps your chin. "You okay?" You've been stroking the same bit of his hand for who knows how long.
"Yeah," you say and mean it. You rub your own hands together to soak in some of the salve before putting the lid back on the tin and standing. "Need to let it soak in."
"Feels soaked in already," he grumbles.
"Stay there." He purses his lips. "I mean it, Joel."
"Bossy today," he says. "There's wood that needs choppin'." You ignore him since he's just being annoying. The salve goes back in the kitchen and his voice trails after you. "And I told Tommy I'd --"
You turn on the tap. "You gotta let that soak in," you say again from the sink.
"What? Can't hear over the water."
You turn off the tap and dry your hands. Joel is still on the couch when you return. "Sorry," you say. You run your hand through his hair again and settle back down next to him. "I said be patient."
"Don't think that's what you said."
"It's what I meant."
And he looks at you in that way that always makes your face feel hot. Like he's seeing right to the bone of you, like he's laying you bare on the floor in his mind. Like he never wants to stop looking at you, next to him on the couch, leg pressed to yours. Like he loves you.
"Alright," he says.
You get an idea, the flames licking at your belly and your hands itching to touch him again, to touch him differently than before. That idea has you grabbing a pillow and tossing it to the floor, has you getting up and drawing the curtains before you sink to your knees before him.
Joel only looks mildly surprised, eyebrows raised, mouth tugging up at the corner. "Now, I ain't gonna complain but --"
"Then don't," you say. You tug his shirt from his waistband and start working on his belt. "Gotta pass the time somehow. And I don't know what we're doing for dinner yet, so maybe I'm just stalling."
"Hell of a way to stall." He reaches for you to touch your face, maybe, or help you with his belt, when you click your tongue. "We can just go to the community hall--"
"Don't touch," you remind him. "You have to let it--"
"Soak, Jesus, yeah, yeah." Joel tips his head back along the sofa and takes one deep breath. If he really wanted to he could ignore you and you'd let him get away with it, but if there's one thing you and Joel have solidified, it's trust. He trusts you to take care of him, to handle him with hands that love him.
So you do. He lifts his hips just a little so you can tug his jeans down, zipper undone and button popped. You pull out his cock, already half-hard at the promise of what's to come. You spit into your palm and stroke him once root to tip and he hisses. More blood flows and he stiffens in your hand.
"You just gonna look at it?"
You give him a squeeze for being a shit. He laughs but it sounds punched out, on the edge. Frankly it's an effort not to take him in your mouth right away. You've always loved this -- the exchange of power, the trust. You're the one on your knees but you're calling the shots. And he's mouthwatering. The way his cock curves a little, the vein that runs along the underside. The mushroom head a little pinker than the rest, the wiry hair at his base. The hefty weight of his balls in your hand, on your tongue. You know how to make it good for him and it's good for you, too.
Joel opens his mouth to no doubt say something else annoying so you finally drag your tongue along the vein, swirling a little at the top before taking just the tip of him in your mouth. His precome is salty. You work your hand along the rest of him as you start to suck in earnest, hollowing your cheeks and taking a little more each time.
"Look so pretty, baby," Joel says. His voice is gravely, broken in his throat. You manage to take almost all of him and you swallow, just once. Your reward is your name spilling from his mouth in a groan.
It's messy. Spit beads at the corner of your mouth and drips a little as you work him, breathing through your nose when you take him all the way. So good, takin' all of me, keep goin'.
Joel has clearly forgotten your directive as he winds one hand in your hair and pulls just a little, just enough to make you moan around him. You don't scold him for it, instead keeping your eyes on his face. His head is tipped back just a little, lips parted at he gazes down at you. His other arm is stretched along the length of the couch, his fingers digging into the fabric as you bob on his cock.
You know he's close. You can feel how he's trying hard to keep his hips down, trying not to fuck your throat cause usually he asks first. So it's only a little surprising when he pulls you off him, eyes a little glazed and some color high on his cheeks.
He wipes spit from the corner of your mouth with the pad of his thumb. "Why don't you c'mere?" he says. "Let me fill you up."
"Joel." This was supposed to be about making him feel good. You know even if he comes in your mouth he'll ask you let him touch you, so frankly you don't mind if he fucks you or not.
He smirks, presses his fingers into the side of your neck a little. You swallow so he can feel it. "We both know you can take it," he drawls, eyes dark. "Always gets you goin', my cock in your mouth."
You can feel the heat between your legs, the arousal pooling in your gut. He's right but he's also an asshole. "You're annoying," you tell him.
"So is that a no?"
You drag the flat of your tongue up his shaft one last time as punishment before standing, using his knees as leverage to get off your own. He shucks off his jeans the rest of the way as you drag down your pants, letting them pool with your underwear at your feet before stepping out. Joel holds out a hand for you to balance on and you take it, putting your other on his shoulder.
"Feels softer already," you mutter. Joel snickers and you straddle him. He uses one hand to drag his fingers through your cunt and you fail to swallow a gasp.
"Well, look at that," he says. "I was right." He pushes two fingers into you and they go easily, your hips jerking as he pumps them in and out once, twice, and then you're empty again.
"Smug bastard," you manage. He brings his hand to his mouth and takes a long lick before surging forward to kiss you. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you even wetter.
Joel licks into your mouth and you kiss him back sloppily, desperately, in the way you know he likes. You're so busy with that hands on his face, his beard scratching your skin deliciously, that you don't notice what else he's doing. His hand presses into the bare skin of your back under your shirt and you lift up a little on instinct and then --
The head of his cock nudges at your entrance and his hand presses again and you meet the movement of his hips with your own and he fills you with just one stroke.
You moan in unison, Joel's arm wrapping around your back as you curl yours around his neck, mouths not so much pressed together as hovering as you pant, as you adjust. Even with how wet you are Joel is a stretch, a welcome one, but a stretch regardless. You shift your hips, roll them back and forth a little.
"Go on, then," you tell him. "Fuck me."
He laughs.
His lips leave yours and trail down your chin, sucking spots onto your neck and on that spot that makes you keen as he does what you ask. He goes slow at first, letting you meet him thrust for thrust. One hand snakes up your shirt, thumbs at your nipple when he finds no bra in the way. You wing your fingers in his hair and tug, tug until he picks up the pace, until all you can hear is the smack of his flesh against yours.
"Joel -- Joel -- right there --"
"M'not gonna -- I -- fuck --"
"Said you were gonna fill me up, didn't you?" you pant, managing to find a bit of cheek in the haze of your fucking. "C'mon, Miller. Don't keep a lady wait--"
His hips pick up the pace, his hands pressing into you hard enough to bruise. You give up trying to tease him and hang on for dear life, managing to snake a hand between your legs to rub at your clit as he pounds into you. The only thing you can say is his name over and over as you feel the hook pull taught, feel the head of his cock brush against and then pound that spot that makes your vision blur.
Joel comes just before you do, his thrusts stuttering and his name on your lips. You feel it, the heat inside you and it's enough to send you over the edge, your cunt squeezing him as he empties inside you.
You press your forehead to his and catch your breath. He palms your neck, your jaw, slides his thumb lazily under your eye and kisses the corner of your mouth.
"Hell of a salve," he manages.
You slot your lips over his. "Wear your damn gloves." Joel laughs and it shifts him inside you. Even softening it makes you both hiss a little. "Just gimme a second."
His hand drags up and down your back, pressing into your spine. "Take your time," he says. "M'clearly not goin' anywhere."
"You never stop, do you?"
Joel kisses you again. "'fraid not."
You laugh into his neck. "Good."
thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!
#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fanfiction
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Make up sex with Genshin men? I really love how you write all of them.
Well make up sex is supposed to be the best right? The sweetest of all. Other then maybe hate fucking which I also have an ask for.
Pairing: Kaeya, Itto, Thoma, Ayato, Cyno, Pantalone, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli
Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, gentle sex, marking, possessive sex, jealousy, cum marking, make up sex
A/N: I already did this one for a few characters so that's why they're not included here again.
Kaeya doesn't like to go on a mission while fighting with you. It will be all he can think about, he can't be a good leader like that. His lips are very rough on yours, he's rushing through everything, he's thrusting into you with wild abandon, coming inside you as he groans apologies against your neck, he wants to make things better, but he also wants you to feel good after he's left.
Itto isn't too good with words of apology. He'll try to spin them in a semi joking way to make the situation lighter but he knows when things are messed up between you two. What do you want him to say? That he shouldn't have been so reckless? Maybe not, but he would punch a hundred men to protect what matters to him. So stop fucking looking at him like you pity him while he's trying to fill your womb with cum! You're gonna make him cry, that wouldn't look cool.
Thoma is all gentle touches and hushed apologies against your heated skin while he slowly moves his cock in and out from behind you. He doesn't want to leave an inch of your skin unmarked by his lips in apology. After tonight there will be no doubt of how sorry he was for not being with you more. Maybe he should ask for a little time off, so he can take you somewhere to relax, not just have quickies.
Ayato has you in his while he's kissing your hand, his eyes looking into yours, his cock slowly making its way past your entrance. He doesn't really want to move right now, he wants you to stay perfectly still on his cock, feel your inner walls fluttering around him, slowly getting him to an orgasm while the two of you talk through your issues, after which he will come into you as an apology for neglecting your needs for so long.
Cyno never likes to see you go to bed angry at him, it doesn't feel right to him. He'd rather you yell at his face for forgetting your date then have your back turned to him and him not being allowed to touch you. You really expect him not to try and say he's sorry? To not pull you against him and let his cock slide between your legs? Then why do you arch your back? Why do you moan for him if you want him to leave? Come on, turn around, let him see you, let him apologize with a kiss.
Pantalone doesn't have an easy time admitting when he's made a mistake. In his line of work mistakes cannot happen, so he has the same attitude in relationships. In fact he thinks you should apologize to him! The audacity of this man whose cock you have deep in your pussy as you cuss him out for being such a fucking idiot despite being really smart to not see when you were trying all day to get his attention. Now he has to sit still and let you take charge for a change.
Kaveh kisses your neck while he keeps your wrists pinned above your head, his hips making your legs twitch every time he slams them against yours. You're not getting away from him until you've worked this out. Him being jealous is not your problem. You can spend as much time with his roommate as you want. Correct. But he also has every right to fuck every inch of his cock into you as a way of asserting his dominance.
Tighnari thinks you're pretty attractive when you're angry but less so when that anger is directed at him. There have been some little arguments in the past but nothing that resulted in the two of you screaming at each other and him spending the rest of the day on patrol to blow off steam. The last thing he expected was for you to blow his cock when he got home.
Zhongli has you propped up on his desk, tail wrapped around your leg to lift it up, his fingers working tirelessly on your clit while his cock hammers away at your tight pussy. Relax, being so tight is only gonna make him finish faster and he's already stated he's not stopping until you agree that he can just work on papers when he gets home as well. You'll still have his attention, just divided between work attention and home attention.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#kaeya x reader#itto x reader#thoma x reader#ayato x reader#cyno x reader#pantalone x reader#kaveh x reader#tighnari x reader#zhongli x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact headcanons#genshin impact smut#genshin impact x female reader#genshin impact x you#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin smut#genshin x female reader#genshin x you#kaeya smut#itto smut#thoma smut#ayato smut#cyno smut#pantalone smut#kaveh smut#tighnari smut#zhongli smut
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Since I just turned off reblogs on another post that quickly went from "let's have fun" to "this is fucking awful, I'm taking away this toy," please read this BlueSky thread from rahaeli, who I don't think is on here.
Most of it I've c/p for ease of readability bc BSky's threading sucks.
Okay, it's time again to talk about what the experience of having a social media account with a bunch of followers (*) is like.
(* "a bunch" of followers is platform dependent. I'm getting irritating shit at 2k on Bluesky I didn't get until 10k on Twitter.)
(Ugh, wait, nevermind, I hit 3k while I wasn't looking. Anyway.)
Someone who has never had more than 100 followers literally cannot comprehend the sheer volume of the responses you get. Even if individual posts don't get a ton of replies, if you post with any frequency, it accumulates.
Once you hit the first degradation threshold, your experience gets a little bit shittier. It's overwhelming volume, but the people who are following you are mostly ideologically, socially, and culturally aligned to you. You have the same concept of social media manners.
You'll get a few duplicate comments, because nobody reads the comments before they reply, but they're mostly from cool people, so you just roll your eyes a little at the same joke five times. You still make friends. You still have fun and can wind up finding neat new people.
And then those neat new people retweet your stuff, and it starts reaching out to an audience of people who are less aligned with what you think of as social media manners. You start getting some replies you find obnoxious: they're in good faith, you can tell, but they just grate on you sometimes.
And then *those* people start reposting your more viral threads, and you get people following you who are three degrees of separation from the people you are most likely to vibe with. And three degrees of separation is the second degradation threshold.
The second degradation threshold is where you start getting the constant, low-grade sand-in-a-pearl annoyances. The person who wants to argue with everything. The 15 people making the identical shitty "joke" that's actually just doing the exact thing you're complaining about, "ironically".
The people who look at a post that contains no question marks and think "there is an implied question here and I will answer it!" and leap to offer the most basic advice that you already thought of because you have existed for more than three seconds and can, in fact, think of the obvious answers.
The people who are spoiling for a fight no matter what, because you used one word in the post that is their particular berserk button and they're going to scream at you for hating waffles because you said you like pancakes even though you never mentioned waffles.
It is constant. It is never-ending. You cannot escape it. Every time you post anything at all, opening the app means wading through twenty garbage replies for every reply from someone who is actually cool and you'd vibe with just fine if you chatted with them.
You want to bitch about a minor annoyance? There will be 40 people all giving you the same useless advice. You want to squee about something you're enjoying that's making you happy? There will be 40 people coming to scold you because that thing isn't morally pure enough.
Every post. Every day. About 75% of the time you compose a post, you will get halfway through writing it and think "I can't deal with the replies this will get today" and delete it. You stop talking about things you enjoy, because you're tired of people shitting on them.
You stop complaining about the tiny annoyances in your life that you want to bitch about, because weirdly enough you already HAVE tried the first fifteen obvious suggestions you're going to get, and you don't want to spend an hour explaining why they won't work to everyone who's "helping".
(But you can't just ignore the "helpful" posts and not engage with them, because then you start getting accusations of being "elitist" and "standoffish" and jesus, lady, we're just trying to help here, why do you have to be so fucking rude and stuck-up, you full of yourself bitch.)
If you are any less gracious to the 40th person than that person thinks they deserve, there is a very good chance they're going to call you a cunt and drag allot their friends in to dogpile you and make the site unusable for at least three days.
The third degradation threshold is when you start needing to regularly call your local police department and politely remind them there are people who get very mad at you online and will try very hard to have you murdered by armed agents of the state and you'd appreciate it if they didn't do that.
I first had that conversation with my local police department in 2003. It's gotten faster now, at least? You usually don't have to start by explaining what social media even is.
Bluesky has tighter thresholds than Twitter did. On Twitter it was nicely exponential: the breakpoints were around 1k, 10k, 100k. Bluesky is running faster. I'm getting Twitter 10k annoyances at a Bluesky 3k. I am trying very, very hard not to switch over into Twitter 10k defensive posting.
I want to leave the defensive posting back on Twitter. I really do. I want to be able to bitch about a thing without having to wade through 20 "go try [extremely obvious thing]". I want to post about a thing I enjoy without 20 people yelling at me I'm bad for enjoyjng it.
There's a difference between arguing about an idea (which I love) and the onslaught of constantly infuriating replies plucking at your last goddamn nerve. And the more "last goddamn nerve" replies you get, the crankier you are, and then people lose their shit at you because you snapped at them.
So maybe let's all start keeping a few principles in mind:
1) if there's more than one reply, check to see if your point has already been covered. If it has, you don't need to repeat it.
2) Even the funniest joke gets old after the 20th time you hear it in 3 hours.
3) "I'm going to jokingly do the exact thing you just were complaining about because ha ha the real joke is I would never do that asshole thing" is never funny, and it is indistinguishable from you actually doing the asshole thing.
4) If there is no question mark in the tweet, think twice about offering "helpful" advice unless you and the poster know each other *mutually*, not just parasocially, you know it's likely to be new info for them, and you ask "do you want to hear how I handle this?" first and get an affirmative.
5) If you are going to ignore 4, ask yourself "is this a suggestion that someone with a reasonable level of generalized adult knowledge would think of trying within the first 15 minutes of approaching the problem?" If so, do not suggest it.
6) Do you really need to nitpick that grammar, spelling, or word choice? Did you understand what they were trying to say before autocorrect mangled it or they blanked on the exact word they wanted and found a close one? If you understood the meaning, don't be their volunteer copyeditor.
7) Is someone excited about a thing you hate? Are they having fun with the thing? Is the thing a front for white supremacist recruiting or organizing the overthrow of the US government? If the answers are yes, yes, and no, respectively, shut the fuck up and let people enjoy things.
8) We are all occasionally That Commenter. If someone you have a pre-existing relationship with replies to you and lets you know you're being That Commenter, it's because they have a positive enough impression of you they don't want to go straight to block. Treat this like the warning sign it is.
9) It deserves repeating: remember the Law of Large Numbers. Even if you only commented once, you may be the hundredth irritating comment that person got that day. Bluesky's terrible threading makes this worse: people don't keep a single thread of mounting crankiness the way they did on Twitter.
9a) If someone's top tweet sounds really annoyed at something, maybe check their timeline or follow back their nested self-QTs to see what level of irritable they're at and over what so you don't step straight on the same rakes they've been dodging all day.
10) However, remember that BSky also doesn't show replies made by people the OP has blocked in a thread. If they post about a pattern that's making them cranky and you look and don't see anything, they probably already blocked the worst of it. They still saw it in their mentions in order to block.
I really cannot overstate how absolutely exhausting and soul-destroying the experience of having a large account can be. It's also somehow still rewarding, or we wouldn't do it. But especially if you're a woman or a person of color or a female POC, that balance is really, really close most days.
And of course, the ones who stay are the ones who do find it still rewarding enough to keep doing it despite the constant irritations.
From here, the thread moves into a conversation about stuff specific to BlueSky, but the majority of the thread is truly applicable to Tumblr as well.
You may be the first person to comment "op lives on a planet without music," or "op has never heard of [thing OP didn't mention for whatever reason]," but you're probably not, and at a certain point, it becomes like someone tapping a sunburn.
So yeah.
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more streamer!ellie hcs
been wanting to make another one of these for a while now so here we goooooo
part one
ellie loves having her gf on stream as often as she can
they always let chat vote for who gets to choose the game that they play, but y/n wins probably 90% of the time
ellie pretends to be annoyed when she picks the sims or minecraft
but in reality she really likes sitting together and making each other and building their dream life
she made her simself have huge muscles, was mad when her girl just laughed and made them more realistic
when she won, she liked to pick horror and rpg games
she loves trying to act all big and bad and "protecting her girl"
meanwhile she's holding onto her for dear life and screaming at the top of her lungs
when she's on her own, she likes playing any type of game with voicechat
she always ends up fighting with and cussing at some random kids across the country
she gets so wild whenever one of them calls her a virgin
always freaks out at them before beginning to brag all about her super hot gf that they couldn't even dream of having and they wouldn't even know what to do with that
she gets a "???" text from her girl a few seconds later
she takes little gf breaks during the stream, where she literally sprints out of the room, kisses her, and rushed back
her insta is so dumbbbb
like its literally a compilation of stupid memes, random photo dumps, brand deals, and the most well edited and gorgeous photos of her girlfriend
her tiktok really took off after they started dating too
she makes thirst traps and also the most wholesome lovely dovey vids about her relationship
she loves reposting fan edits of them
as mentioned in the first one, ellie's gf is also in the public eye
i think i've decided that she's an up and coming singer/actress
ellie loves going to major events with her
she always looks like a wet dream like
she likes to wear suits of some kind where the top is partially unbuttoned and her hair is slicked back and ughhhh
don't get me wrong, she looks so good and fierce in her solo pics
but anytime you're anywheres near her that night, she's got the most obvious heart eyes anyone has ever seen
whenever ellie goes with her for press events y/n's manager immediately know its gonna be a gold mine
theres always some kind of promo that's literally just the two of them cuddling
once y/n gets her big break they 1000% get offered a ck campaign
the whole thing is them doing domestic stuff together and being all cute and sexy and ellie looks so DAMN GOOD in her boxers and bralette
she literally spends the whole day leading up to her stream with her gf bc she's "gonna miss her" during the 3-4 hours that they're apart (even tho she's calling her in every 30 minutes just to say hi anyways)
wears stupid shirts on stream that she custom orders
they all say stupid loser gf shit or just have a picture of your face on it
#reader insert#x reader#imagines#lesbian#ellie williams x reader#ellie x you#ellie x y/n#ellie x fem reader#ellie x reader#ellie smut
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Slow Hands || Spencer Reid x Reader
Summary: Spencer gets tired of pretending he doesn't notice the way you look at his hands, so when you show up at his hotel room late at night he decides to ask you about it.
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn without plot, hand kink, size kink kinda?, praise kink, Dom/sub dynamics (gentle dom Spencer x sub reader), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, baby, dirty little girl, slut), fingering, overstimulation, penetrative sex, choking, slight dacryphilia, a little fluff at the end, female reader, kinda rushed ending
English is not my first language
Word count: 6800
Notes: Spencer is a gentle dom and you can’t change my mind.
Also pictures aren't mine, I just put them together. I took them from this post (the one that inspired this fic) and also from this one so full credits to them!
"Why do you always stare at my hands?" The question escaped Spencer's lips before he could stop it. You had come to his hotel room to discuss something about the case you were working on and the whole time you had been staring at his hands.
It wasn't the first time you had done that, he had caught you staring at his hands in the past. It seemed that whatever he did with them you found interesting. He had never said anything to you because he honestly didn't know how to approach the subject without it sounding strange, but he was aware of what you were doing. The same way he knew you didn't admire anyone else's hands the same way you admired his, something that sparked a warmth inside him.
Spencer was pretty sure he knew why you looked at his hands so much, but he wanted to hear you say it.
"Oh," you mumbled in embarrassment, startled at being caught. "I don't know, I think they're pretty." You shrugged, looking everywhere but at Spencer. "I like hands."
"You like hands?" He repeated, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.
"I know it sounds weird but it's not! Some people notice someone's smile first or maybe their eyes or laugh, I tend to notice people's hands." It was a half-truth. Yes, you used to pay more attention to people's hands than most, but that wasn't the real reason for your inability to take your eyes off his hands. But since you couldn't admit that you dreamed every night of feeling the touch of his long, slender fingers on your skin, you thought that explanation would satisfy his curiosity and save you from the humiliation of the truth.
"Why do you like my hands so much?" Spencer insisted and you struggled to stop your mind before it got lost in the endless fantasies involving his hands that haunted you at night when you were alone in your bed.
"I don't know. They're pretty, I guess." You tried to downplay it, hoping that would be enough to ease his curiosity.
"Pretty how?" Spencer asked you and when you looked up to meet his eyes you saw a dark glint in them. He was up to something, you could see it in the innocent little smile plastered on his lips. He was pushing you to give him an answer for a special reason that you didn't know, but you assumed it couldn't be anything good for you.
Your brain was screaming at you not to take the bait, that it was dangerous and stupid. The smartest thing to do would be to find an excuse to go back to your room, where you would be safe from Spencer and his tricks. But you had never been that smart. Curiosity got the better of you, so you ignored your brain and took the bait.
"Well, for starters, your hands are big." You spoke in the most casual tone possible, trying to hide your embarrassment and excitement as you took one of his hands between yours to compare sizes.
You rarely had the opportunity to hold Spencer's hand, so feeling the warmth of his palm against yours awakened a wave of electricity that coursed down your spine. You swallowed hard, struggling to control yourself as you admired the difference in size between your hands. Even though you had long nails you weren't able to shorten the difference in length between his fingers and yours, Spencer's still stood tall against yours, which barely touched the middle phalanx of his fingers. You thought it was impossible, but his hand seemed even larger when compared to yours.
"And that's a good thing?" His soft, low voice shook you awake from your trance, lifting your gaze to look at him for a moment before returning your focus to his hands.
"Yes, especially for a guy," you said, trying to act natural under his intense gaze. "But you also have beautiful fingers. They're long and slender... perfectly balanced with the size of your palm." Your fingers traced his as you spoke, delicately caressing the skin of his hand with your fingertips. You could feel his eyes on you, following your every move. If you kept quiet you could hear his deep breathing quicken a little more with each caress you gave him, just like your heartbeat.
Spencer knew what kind of ideas the size of his fingers sparked in your imagination and he would be lying if he said he didn't have the same fantasies from time to time. It was actually embarrassing how many times he had masturbated imagining having his fingers buried deep in the warmth of your core —you moaning his name and begging him for more while he used his expert fingers to make you feel pleasure in a way no other man had ever done.
"But I also like the veins in the back of your hand." Your voice brought him out of his thoughts just in time, a few more seconds lost in his fantasies and his pants were going to start feeling a little tight. "I like the way the veins mark on your skin." Your fingers traced the lines on the back of his hand, following the paths that led up his arm, where the rolled up sleeve of his shirt prevented you from continuing.
Your fingers lingered on his arm longer than necessary, taking the opportunity to memorize the texture of his skin, the warmth of his body and the way his closeness made you feel in case you never had the chance to touch him like that again. The room fell into complete silence as you shared an intimate moment, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your slightly accelerated breathing. There was a tension in the air that you had never felt before being with Spencer, but you barely paid attention to it as you lost yourself in your fantasies, your mind finally surrendering to your wild imagination.
But then the sound of a speeding car coming through the window distracted you from your thoughts. You pulled your hands away from Spencer quickly as you realized what you had done, ashamed of yourself for losing control like that. However, when you looked up to meet his eyes you didn't notice anything strange about them. He didn't seem to be bothered or uncomfortable by your behavior. No. You just saw that sparkle again, shining in his hazel eyes with increasing clarity.
Spencer's gaze didn't leave you as he moved his hand closer to you. You remained frozen in place, holding your breath without even realizing it as you waited to see what he was scheming. His fingers took a lock of your hair that fell over your face, playing with it for a bit before he gently tucked it behind your ear. Your heart was beating faster and faster and your brain was working hard to decipher what Spencer was thinking. You enjoyed the attention you were getting from him, but your impatient nature needed to know where he was going with all this.
However, your brain was fried the moment Spencer's hand cupped your cheek. You even forgot how to breathe as you felt his long, slender fingers caress the skin of your face. You closed your eyes instinctively, leaning into his touch as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The warmth of his hand awakened a tingling sensation that spread all over your face following the path of his fingers, from your cheek bone, down to your jaw, across your chin and up to your lips. It was ridiculous how he could have you melting under his touch with the simplest of caresses. He had so much power over you... and you liked it.
You opened your eyes when you felt Spencer's thumb caress your lower lip. Your eyes met for a moment, feeling small under his intense gaze. He had never acted that way with you before, much less looked at you with the hunger reflected in his hazel orbs. And you liked it. You liked feeling small under his watchful eye. You liked feeling completely at his mercy. You liked knowing that he owned you even if he didn't realize it.
"I feel the same way about your lips," Spencer announced, staring at your mouth as his thumb continued his caresses, tracing the shape of your lips. "I love how soft they look, always tempting me to kiss them... especially when you stick your tongue out to wet them... or when you bite your lower lip when you're deep in thought. It takes all my willpower not to cross the room and kiss you right then and there."
Spencer's voice was soft and seductive, the slightly deeper than normal tone going straight to your core, which tightened around nothing, desperate for attention. There was nothing dirty in his words —he was just declaring how much he wanted to kiss you— and yet you could feel the wetness beginning to stain your underwear. There was something about his voice, the way he was talking to you and the softness of his touch on your lips that felt highly erotic. Spencer seemed to know exactly what to say and what to do to have you at his mercy. He had you in a trance, frozen in place as you eagerly awaited his next move. There wasn't a single thought in your head, just him and your desire to feel his hands all over your body.
"And don't even get me started on those lipsticks you wear," he continued, applying a little more pressure on your lips as he dragged his thumb across them, smearing lipstick on the corners of your lips. "This one is my favorite."
You parted your lips to try to breathe. You were starting to feel lightheaded, unable to move or speak under Spencer's intense stare. You wanted to, god knew there were a lot of things you wanted to say to him at that moment, but you couldn't do it. Your brain was fried, your body vibrating with anticipation. Part of you still couldn't believe what was happening, so you thought it would be best to keep your mouth shut. You would let him guide you, show you what he wanted from you. You'd be lying if you said that wasn't exactly what you wanted.
Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt Spencer's thumb push into your mouth. You closed your lips around the digit without even thinking about it, your tongue caressing his skin in an act of pure instinct. Your mind didn't process what was happening until you heard him moan softly.
"Good girl," he praised you and you couldn't help but moan over his finger, pure pleasure vibrating throughout your body. "I always suspected that behind that strong, combative attitude of yours was hiding a good, obedient girl... I didn't even have to tell you to suck, you already knew what to do."
A wave of pleasure ran through your body at his words, feeling proud to hear him call you a good girl. That's all you ever wanted to be, his good girl, and now that you finally had the chance to prove it to him you weren't going to waste it. You sucked on his finger harder to show him how much you loved his compliments, hollowing out your cheeks as your tongue played with his digit wishing it was his cock instead.
"I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea," Spencer sighed.
Oh but you did know. You knew exactly what he meant because you had wanted him for so long too. Every second you spent with him was torture, not only because you fantasized about feeling his hands on your body all the time, but also because you had to pretend you didn't in a room filled with skilled profilers.
But there was no more of that. You didn't have to worry anymore because his hands were finally on your body and it felt even better than you had imagined.
"Will you be my good girl tonight?" Spencer asked you, his voice barely a whisper as he moved closer to you.
You almost fainted when you felt his warm breath crash against your face, feeling even smaller under his gaze now that he was closer to you. When he removed his thumb from your mouth you had to bite your tongue to keep from letting out a whimper in protest.
"Answer me!" he demanded in a firm but soft tone that managed to snap your brain out of its trance.
"Yes," you rushed to say, maintaining eye contact with Spencer at all times. "I want to be your good girl, please."
You barely managed to get the words out before Spencer's lips crashed against yours in a kiss full of passion and desperation. You didn't even try to fight for dominance, surrendering to him without him having to ask. You let his lips guide yours, melting under the caresses of his tongue. His hands gripped each side of your face, using his hold to tilt your head so he could deepen the kiss.
It was all happening so fast you barely had time to process it, your poor brain working hard to keep up with the torturous rhythm of Spencer's lips. The kiss was much rougher than you would have imagined from someone like him. He always looked so sweet and innocent it was hard to believe he had such a dark side. But you loved every second of it. You loved knowing that he had chosen to share that side with you.
"Stand up," he ordered you as he pulled away from your lips. His kiss had left you a little stupid, so it took you a few seconds to process his words. But he didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, Spencer seemed proud of himself. He loved the effect he had on you as much as you did.
Spencer stood next to you, standing in front of you. You looked up into his eyes, patiently awaiting his next command. You lost yourself in the beautiful hazel color of his orbs for a moment, noticing a flash of his usual sweet, tender glow mixed in with all the desire and lust. That soothed the nerves that were beginning to form in your stomach from the anticipation, remembering that behind the darkness in his eyes was your Spencer, the one who always opened doors for you and brought you coffee without you asking him for it when you were stuck in the office late at night doing paperwork.
He took his time removing your clothes, his hands caressing and kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, showering you with compliments. He even knelt down in front of you to properly remove your shoes, pants and panties, taking the time to caress your calves and deposit a kiss on each of your thighs before rising back up. Spencer was tall, much taller than you. His figure towered over yours in an imposing way, but his soft and gentle touch helped you not to feel self-conscious in front of him, even when he was fully clothed and you were not. The gentleness with which he was treating you contrasted with the hardness of his kisses, but it was a change you gladly welcomed. Although it did make you wonder what he had planned for later.
"You're so beautiful," Spencer murmured against the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as his hands roamed your body. His fingers caressed your skin ever so gently, trailing up your arm all the way to your shoulder. He paused at your neck for a moment and a shiver ran down your spine as you imagined him closing his fingers over your throat, applying pressure until it was hard to breathe. But before you could put voice to your desires, his hand wandered down your back, fiddling with your bra before unclasping it.
"Spence, please." You begged in a whisper when you couldn't stand the anticipation any longer. As much as you enjoyed the attention of his hands on your body, you needed more. Much more. Your pussy was crying for attention, staining your underwear with your arousal.
Your broken voice went straight to Spencer's cock, your desperation was music to his ears, but he managed to keep his composure. He wanted to take his time with you. "What is it, baby? What do you want?" he asked in an almost condescending tone. He knew very well what you wanted, but he wanted to hear you say it.
“I want you,” you replied, not caring about how pathetic your voice sounded. You were desperate for some relief and were willing to do anything to get it. "I need you to touch me... to make me feel good."
Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He settled down on the bed again —his long legs stretched out on the comforter and his back resting against the bed frame— and gestured for you to sit on his lap. When you moved closer he turned you over, helping you to settle onto his body until you ended up sitting with your back against his chest. He used his legs to spread yours apart, opening them as wide as he could. You hated not being able to see his face easily, but the new position was exciting anyway. You could feel his hard cock twitching against your ass and had a privileged view of his hand as he slowly moved closer to where you needed it most.
"You're so wet already and I barely touched you," Spencer whispered against your ear, his breath brushing your skin as his fingers began to toy with your clit. "Is this all for me?"
"Y-yes,"you managed to mumble between ragged breaths, struggling to control the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. You were in a hotel room and the rest of your co-workers were sleeping in the rooms next to yours. The last thing you wanted was to be discovered.
"No, don't hold back. I want to hear you moan. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Spencer was desperate to hear you moan his name, it was all he had ever wanted from the first moment he saw you. He dreamed of your whimpers of pleasure, but they never felt real enough. His mind could never recreate the beautiful melody of your voice to perfection. But he could remember it forever if he could hear you.
Spencer increased the speed of his fingers and you weren't able to contain the moan that escaped your lips, nor the many others that followed. But even if you could, you wouldn't have done it because he wanted to hear you and his wishes were your command. Your body belonged to him in its entirety, you were his to do with you as he wished.
"Good girl," he praised you, using his free hand to push your hair to the side so he could kiss and nibble on your neck. Each thing he did brought you a little closer to the edge. It was as if he had studied your body in preparation for this moment, as if he knew exactly what buttons to push to have you making a mess under his touch.
"Is this what you wanted?" Spencer growled against your ear, feeling his cock throbbing under the movements of your ass. Pure pleasure coursed through his veins as he listened to the whimpers escaping your lips. "Is this what you imagined every time you looked at my hands?"
"Yes! F-fuck, yes." Your voice came out in a broken moan, your brain fighting the haze of pleasure to form coherent sentences. Spencer was bringing you near climax in record time, you could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. You didn't know how he was doing it, but you didn't want him to ever stop. "I thought about having your fingers deep inside me all this time and, f-fuck, and how good they would feel reaching places mime can't... yes! Just like that."
As if Spencer was using your fantasies as a guide, he slipped his middle and ring fingers inside you. Your velvety walls received them gladly, clasping around them to keep them there forever. Just as you had imagined, his long fingers felt wonderful, filling you in a way yours could not, and they reached that spongy place inside you in a matter of seconds making you see stars every time they caressed it.
"Oh god, Spence it feels so good... please" you murmured between moans and heaving breaths, gripping onto your lover's arm for support. Your body was on fire, your mind lost in pleasure. It all felt like too much and not enough at the same time. You were desperate to find that sweet relief, moving your hips against Spencer's hand to reach your climax.
"You're gonna cum for me like the good girl you are?" He spoke against your neck, biting into your skin and drawing a moan of pleasure from you. "You're gonna cum all over my fingers?"
"Yes! Yes, please, I wanna cum so bad," you begged him on the verge of tears and Spencer couldn't help but growl against your skin. Knowing that he was capable of making you cry out in pleasure with his fingers alone awakened something primal in him. The desperate sounds escaping your lips were the hottest thing he had ever heard and suddenly it became his mission to keep you crying with pleasure for as long as he possibly could.
Spencer increased the rhythm of his fingers and applied pressure to your clit with his palm so each time he moved his hand you would receive twice as much stimulation. "C'mon baby, cum for me," he encouraged you and his permission was all you needed to collapse into his arms.
Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body, which was squirming under Spencer's skilled hands that kept fucking you through your orgasm. Your lungs were screaming for air, but it was impossible for you to catch your breath. The world around you became a blur for a moment and the only thing your pleasure clouded brain was able to process was Spencer's voice praising you as his hands caressed your body.
"That's it... that's my good girl." You smiled, enjoying his compliments as you tried to catch your breath.
But then you felt the hand that was still in your pussy begin to move once more. They were slow thrusts of his fingers inside you, but it was still a lot for your abused cunt, too sensitive from the orgasm it had just had. Your hand clutched at his wrist to try to stop it, but as you opened your eyes and looked down you couldn't help but let out a moan. You were convinced that there was no more erotic sight than that of his veiny hand buried in your pussy, moving in and out of you, giving you a glimpse of his skin glistening with your arousal in the dim light of the room.
"One more," Spencer told you, tugging on your hair to force your head back so you could look at him. It was a little rough, but you loved it, the pain going straight to your center. "I want one more and then I'll fuck you."
"I can't... too much" you tried to say, but your body betrayed you. Your pussy was dripping with excitement, your walls clinging to Spencer's fingers with desperation. Your hips were moving to his rhythm, following his lead and not yours. Your body no longer responded to you, it no longer belonged to you. It now belonged to Spencer and if he wanted you to cum one more time then you would.
"You can, I know you can," he encouraged you in a soft voice that contrasted with the roughness of his movements. He kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with a desperation that took what little breath you still had, and you surrendered completely to him. You stopped fighting your body's urges, trusting that Spencer knew what was best for you. He always did.
"That's it, baby. Let go for me, c'mon. I want to feel you cum on my fingers one more time." His words went straight to your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It wasn't long before you started to feel like it was too much. Your legs shook uncontrollably with pleasure, but when you tried to close them Spencer didn't let you, using his to keep you wide open for him.
"'S too much… too much… can't" you mumbled incoherently as you felt the pleasure take over your whole body. Tears of utter pleasure streamed down your cheeks, each movement of your lover's hand bringing you closer to the edge you weren't sure you'd be able to cross.
"Shh you're okay, you're okay" he reassured you, showering his kisses all over your neck and shoulder as he used his free hand to hold you in place. "You can do it. C'mon, I got you."
You clung to Spencer's arm as you braced yourself for the explosion of pleasure that was coming, your nails digging little half moons into his porcelain skin. He held you in place as your body shook violently as your second orgasm hit you, enjoying the incoherent cries of pleasure escaping your lips as you soaked his fingers with your arousal. It was music to his ears, the sweetest melody he had ever heard.
"That's it, such a good girl for me." He praised you, but you were too lost to process his words. Your mind was completely lost in a fog of pure bliss, the world around you forgotten as your body twitched with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You could barely breathe and you couldn't remember your own name, but a smile formed on your face. Those had been the best orgasms of your life and you hadn't even had Spencer inside you yet.
"There you are!" you heard him say next to you. When you opened your eyes you discovered that at some point he had moved you, and now you were lying on the bed with him staring at you at your side. "Are you okay?"
His voice was soft as his fingers gently caressed your cheek. It was quite a change from the man who minutes before was demanding you cum on his fingers, but you liked it. He was more like the usual Spencer and that was what you needed at that moment as you recovered from the two most intense orgasms of your life.
"I'm fine," you assured him with an ecstatic smile. You really were. Spencer had demanded a lot from you, but in the best possible way.
"Do you want to stop? Just say the word and I'll let you go to sleep."
"What? No, please, I want to feel you inside me." You begged with glazed eyes and Spencer let out a chuckle.
"Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and you nodded enthusiastically.
"Yes! Please, I want to make you feel good. I want to be your good girl."
Spencer silenced your pleas with a kiss, his lips caressing yours ever so gently. Unlike the previous times, when desire, passion and desperation prevailed, this kiss was slow and sensual. He was taking his time to enjoy the moment, memorizing every little detail of your lips and your reactions to the caresses of his tongue. He wanted to experience everything with you, the urgency of passion and desire, as well as the tenderness of such an intimate moment. He wanted it all with you.
When he pulled away you let out a whimper in protest, missing his warmth the moment he got out of bed. However your protests were silenced when you rose up on your elbows and discovered that he was undressing. Before that moment you didn't think it was possible that the image of a man loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt could be so erotic, but Spencer proved you wrong. Your mind raced wildly with the thought of everything he could do to you with that tie or the belt, which fell to the floor with a metallic clank as he peeled off the layers of clothing.
Anticipation bubbled up inside you once again as you stared at Spencer crawling towards you, looking at you like an animal at its prey. He gave you one last slow, tender kiss before settling between your legs, taking his cock in his hands and stroking it a couple of times before lining it up with your entrance.
"You ready, baby?" he asked you one more time to make sure you were okay, his voice no more than a raspy whisper that awakened a new wave of arousal inside you.
"Yes, please."
He was gentle as he entered you, giving you time to adjust to the size of his member as he enjoyed the warmth of your velvety walls. You both let out a moan as he bottomed out, your pussy tightening around his cock as you felt him deep inside you.
"So tight and warm for me," Spencer growled in your ear as he began to move, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out before slamming back inside you with a quick, punishing thrust. "Taking me so well."
It was clear from the erratic, desperate rhythm of his hips that Spencer wasn't going to last long. He was so worked up after having you wriggling on his cock as you came twice that he was already close to the edge. But he still tried his best to drag the moment out as long as he could, thoroughly enjoying the way you had surrendered to him completely. He hadn't even had to ask you, you had simply accepted your role, desperate to be his good girl just as he had imagined.
"You look so pretty like this, making a mess on my cock as I fuck you stupid," he praised you as he noticed your moans increasing in volume and incoherence. He felt you tighten around his member, letting out a pathetic moan of pleasure as you increased the rhythm of your hips, which moved against his in search of your orgasm.
"Feels s-so good, Spence… please." A couple of tears escaped your eyes as you begged him for relief, awakening that primal desire deep inside him again. There was something so erotic about the way you were moaning for him, crying for his cock, begging him to bring you to your climax one more time. You looked completely ruined, mascara running down your face and lipstick smeared across your lips after so many kisses, and he was the cause of it all. He was the one you were moaning for. He was the one you cried for. He was the one you begged for more even though you were completely ruined. He was the one who was making you feel so good. He and only he. You belonged to him.
"You want to cum again, huh?" Spencer spoke in a condescending tone as he increased the pace and roughness of his thrusts. "Two orgasms are not enough for my girl? Is that it?"
You tried to ignore the way it made you feel to hear him call you 'his girl', attributing the warm feeling that spread through your body to desire and arousal. Though deep down you knew there was something more pure and innocent behind your reaction.
"Please, don't stop. I'm so close, f-fuck." The pleasure was overwhelming, coursing through your entire body, consuming every cell of your being. Your vision was blurring again, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.
Then Spencer lowered one of his hands to where your bodies joined as one, his fingers losing themselves in your wetness as they played with your clit. Your body began to twitch beneath his, your moans increasing in volume and quantity as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the sweet relief. You reached out to him, grabbing his arm in an attempt to ground yourself, frightened by the force of the powerful orgasm that threatened to destroy you completely.
"I know, baby, I know." Spencer comforted your incoherent cries of pleasure, feeling your whole body tighten around his to hold him in place. The warm walls of your cunt clenched around his throbbing cock with every movement he made. Your legs hooked around his hips, pulling him even closer against you, his cock reaching deeper inside you with each thrust. You were both so close to cumming, but he wanted to feel you come undone around him first.
"Just let go for me, I got you."
You moaned his name, appreciating the tenderness in his voice as he encouraged you to cum. But you needed more, something to push you over the edge. And you knew exactly what that was.
Loosening your grip on his arm, you guided him up your body to where you needed him. Your hand rested on top of his as you gently settled it on your exposed neck, closing your fingers —and his— over your throat in an attempt to make him understand what you wanted.
Spencer looked at you with a surprised look, but you could see that flash of darkness shining in his eyes that let you know he liked the idea as much as you did. "Are you sure?" he asked you to make sure you were both on the same page about it.
"Please," you begged him with glazed eyes and Spencer felt his cock throbbing inside your pussy, feeling his orgasm approaching. You were definitely the perfect woman for him.
He began by applying a little pressure to the sides of your throat, feeling your veins pumping blood under his fingers. His hand was so big that he could almost wrap it around your entire neck, giving him a sense of power that awakened a wave of pleasure that coursed through his entire body. Knowing that you trusted him enough to let him choke you gave him a strange sense of relief. He wasn't the only one.
But what really sealed the deal for him was hearing your strangled moans as he applied enough force to limit your breathing a bit.
"You're such a dirty little girl... you like getting fucked like a slut, huh?" Spencer asked the question on purpose, knowing you weren't going to be able to respond other than incoherent sounds from both the pleasure you were feeling and the pressure he was putting on your throat. But he knew you loved it, he could feel it in the way you were clenching down on his member.
"Cum for me, c'mon. I want to feel you making a mess on my cock." His command was all you needed to let yourself be consumed by pleasure, the combination of his dirty words, his punishing thrusts and the pressure he exerted on your throat finally pushing you over the edge.
Your whole body trembled beneath his as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through every inch of your body. You felt like you were on fire, floating in pure bliss as you heard Spencer praising you in the distance.
"That's my good girl, doing such a great job for me." Spencer's movements became more erratic and sloppy as he chased his own orgasm. His grip on your neck softened, but you didn't let him move his hand from there, grabbing his wrist to hold him in place.
"Please Spence, I want you to fill me up... I want to feel you cum inside me, pleaseee," you begged him with what little strength you had left, trying to push him over the edge. You looked at him with half-closed, slightly unfocused eyes, completely lost in the pleasure that flooded your insides. It was the hottest image Spencer had ever seen. You were ruined, so fucked out that you could barely think, and he was the one to blame for that.
You whimpered from the overstimulation, the sweet sound of your raspy moans driving him over the edge. He came with a grunt of pleasure, emptying his load inside you. He painted your velvety walls with rope after rope of cum, enough that the pearly white liquid trickled down your thighs and onto the bed. Spencer earned one last moan from you as he pulled out of you, collapsing beside you as you both struggled to catch your breath.
"Are you okay?" he asked you as he regained the ability to form coherent sentences. He shifted his body towards you, rising up on his arm and resting his head in his palm so he could look at you. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"
"No, no. You were perfect." You were quick to say, opening your eyes and turning to face him. He had his soft, innocent expression back, looking at you with adoration as he analyzed your face to make sure you were telling the truth. If it weren't for the smell of sex that flooded the room you would find it hard to believe that he was the same man who had fucked you until you forgot your own name.
"Everything was perfect." You added with a satisfied smile on your face that he mimicked.
A silence formed as you tried to process what had happened. Now that your mind was clear of the fog of desire and passion that blocked your thinking you realized the position you had put yourselves in. You were friends and co-workers and at the time you had no way of knowing how this slip-up was going to affect both relationships. You figured you would have time to sort it out, but for now you needed to get out of there before you fell asleep and the rest of the team discovered you leaving the same room in the morning. So you carefully got up, holding onto the bed frame until your legs got used to supporting the weight of your body again, and looked for your clothes that had been left behind, scattered on the floor of the room.
"What are you doing?" Spencer asked, watching you struggle to put your underwear back on.
"Putting my clothes back on?" you replied as if it were obvious, grabbing your shirt off the floor. "I need it. Unless you want me to walk down the hallway naked I-"
"Stay," he interrupted you, grabbing your hand to force you to stop. "Please." He sounded so soft and vulnerable that there was no way you could say no, even though you knew it was a terrible idea.
“What about the team?”
“We can wake up a little earlier so you can sneak back to your room.”
You weren't fully convinced. There were a lot of things that could go wrong —what if you were called away in the middle of the night? how would you explain that you were not in your room but in Spencer's room sleeping with him if one of your co-workers knocked on your door before you got back?—, but Spencer kissed you and all concerns left your system. You let the soft movement of his lips quiet the voices in your head, surrendering to his charms once again.
"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up so we can go to sleep." He whispered against your lips, giving you one last short kiss before guiding you to the shower. You let him take care of you, allowing him to wash your hair and carefully massage the soap over your body, and in gratitude you did the same for him. The tenderness and intimacy of sharing a shower contrasted with the rough sex you had had, but you liked it. The same way you liked sleeping snuggled in his arms. He was your favorite pillow, the warmest and most comfortable blanket you had ever slept with.
You were pretty sure you couldn't go back to normal after discovering how happy it made you feel to be surrounded in Spencer's arms, but you were okay with that. You had plenty of time to talk about your future in the morning. For now all you wanted to do was enjoy the moment, letting your lover's deep breaths lull you to sleep.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x female reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem reader#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid#criminal minds
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my marauder's sex headcannons
james, sirius, and remus x female reader
WORD COUNT : 723
i wanna feed you guys (after literally a year) so enjoy my personal headcannons
james potter -
he is a certified switch. he leans more on the dominant side, but sometimes he just has a need to be told what to do.
when you're on top, without a doubt he is calling you mommy. not to mention, he will whine. he's always whining.
plus he will NEVER SHUT UP.
HE WILL ALWAYS PRAISE YOU.
"you're doing so good f'me, my love."
and he will never hit you or degrade you. he thinks that's just plain mean.
sex should be fun. he does it often so that he can skip out of doing cardio. killing two birds with one stone.
on the aspect of cardio, though, james can last a long time. he could go the entire night if he really wanted to.
"please just one more. one more, i promise."
he's a big guy, so you already KNOW that dick is at LEAST nine inches.
"it won't fit-" "-i'll make it fit."
HE LOVES THE STOMACH BULGE
fucking under the cloak.
while he doesn't like to hit you, he is most definitely leaving accidental bruises from gripping you so hard.
he'd rather grip your arm than the mattress. he loves feeling you.
he's probably the loudest moaner in the entire wizarding world.
he enjoys moaning your name so much that if you didn't cast a silencing charm then everyone in hogwarts would hear him.
he loves your boobs. whether they're big or small, he is most definitely sucking them and leaving them polka dotted by the end of the night.
and literally every night he's with you. sex or not. he's latching his lips onto your nipples and sucking the life out of them like they're lollipops.
he is without a doubt an experimentalist.
like whenever he finds a new position or just a new kinky idea, he's going to bring it up to you.
most of the time, you enjoy it. other times, it's just a one time thing.
he tells you he loves you all the time. it's all part of his 'never-shuts-up' persona.
sirius black -
dom. without a doubt.
"who's pussy is this?" "yours."
he likes making you cry. tears of pleasure are his favorite.
degradation is never out of the question.
and "my little slut."
while that is the case, he will, 'talk you through it' if you will.
"finish for me, baby."
100% getting off to you screaming his name.
he's definitely an ass guy. he likes groping it and hitting it whenever he gets the chance.
he's a little on the smaller side, but he definitely makes up for it in width.
he is very. VERY. loud.
he can last a SOLID three or four rounds.
ngl, he looooves bondage.
lets be real, he keeps a black rope in his nightstand.
he will most DEFINITELY tease you with his wand.
or he'll LITERALLY stick it up there.
honestly, he just likes to tease you in general.
pussy checks in public ALLLL THE TIME.
sometimes if you're wet enough, he will just do it with you on the spot.
"wet already, baby?"
he wants everyone to know that you're his, so he takes measures by leaving hickeys all over you, especially in noticeable places.
LOVES seeing you ride him.
he is 100% stealing james' cloak and doing it with you under it.
remus lupin -
a switch, but much more on the submissive side. so basically a sub.
he will literally get off on getting told what to do. and frankly he prefers being a pillow princess.
he definitely starts off quiet, like a whimper here and there,
and then as he gets more and more comfortable with you, (like around your third time) his whimpers become louder and louder.
he is a SOLID seven inches.
he will do some pretty kinky stuff with you.
like experimenting with candle wax. because he was curious, obviously.
and this guy has a huge thing for period sex. not that you mind it, it helps you forget about your cramps.
the rare times that he's on top, he is the sweetest ever.
"you feel so good."
you've done it in the library a few several times... in the restricted section. nobody has to know that, though.
he loves how you taste and will always tell you that.
your boobs are one of his most favorite things about you.
bite bite bite
and he loves touching you.
anywhere he can get his hands on you he will caress you.
he doesn't really last more than three rounds, but,
there were definitely days where he was so into it that he just couldn't stop.
he loves receiving pleasure and praise soso much.
he's just a sweet boy.
#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter imagine#sirius black imagine#remus lupin imagine#james potter x you#sirius black x you#remus lupin x you#james potter x yn#sirius black x yn#remus lupin x yn#james potter x y/n#sirius black x y/n#remus lupin x y/n#james potter smut#sirius black smut#remus lupin smut#james potter smut headcannons#sirius black smut headcannons#remus lupin smut headcannons#marauders era#marauders#marauders smut#marauders smut headcannons
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Our Last Day, or maybe the first?.. - Thomas Hewitt x fem. Reader
Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever
Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary
NOTE: This is my second one shot and it's pretty long, maybe i am thinking about a second part so let me know if you want that, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.
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A few months had passed since your work at the slaughterhouse had started, you were one of the few people who had been able to access education and that had given you the opportunity to work as the supervisor's secretary.
Your days were longer than normal dealing with the male staff who looked at your body with desire and said rude comments every time you passed beside them, as did your boss who took the opportunity a couple of times to touch your ass "by accident'' and called you to his office for useless tasks that ended with indecent comments.
They were all idiots, all except Thomas, he just dedicated himself to his work and every time you said "good morning" he responded with a slight grunt while bowing his head a little, always a gentleman like his mama taught him.
-I see you're already packing - your supervisor looked at you from the door frame while you put your things in a cardboard box.
-Yes, I'm almost done - you looked at him smiling kindly trying to ignore the uncomfortable look he had on your butt that was visible in your pencil skirt.
-Leave that there for a moment, I need you to go down and tell Thomas that he has to go, the animal is still cutting meat and doesn't want to go home - the old man took off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt regardless of the worried expression on your face.
-Do I… should I go? sir, I think the best thing would be…
-It's an order, you still work here, that's why I didn't want to hire women, they're always so useless- the disgusting man laughed mockingly as he walked to his office - get off your ass and get down right now
Your gaze quickly fixed on the large window of what was your place from where you could clearly see Thomas hitting the pieces of meat with his sharp knife making a sound against the wooden table, it took you a few seconds to take a breath and pass saliva to get down, the aroma of raw meat disgusted you too much, just like the blood spread all over the place, that was what bothered you more than anything else.
-Hello..Hello Thomas - you smiled behind his back while your hands played nervously in front of you - well, I think they had already informed you that the slaughterhouse is going to close today and..- you sighed, adjusting your cat-eye glasses on your nose sighing holding on not to get dizzy with the intense aroma of meat - and well you must go home
Thomas paused a little but after a few seconds he hit the flesh again with such force that he made you jump on your heels.
-Thomas…please don't make this more difficult, I don't want them to come down and scold you like they always do- Your voice lowered a little, almost in a whisper, trying not to let your supervisor hear you and get you both in trouble, but Thomas just continued ignoring your advice
-Don't you listen to what she said you damn animal? You won't work here anymore, go home with your stupid family - your supervisor came down the stairs, standing halfway screaming in the distance, making the huge man turn around with his knife in his hand, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles seemed like they would break the skin from his hand
Your eyes looked with at the man with glasses and then at Thomas with fear that something would happen, after all you were in the middle and the tension of both collided with your small and fragile body, that was when your poor gaze weakened between you in the dark and humid environment, you could notice how Thomas's hand was shaking and his breathing was agitated making his chest rise and fall.
-Thomas..please - with fear your hand extended making the giant barely look at you through his long locks of hair - no…it's not worth it - with fear you took his hand, it was the first time Thomas felt the skin of a woman against his and despite the anger he felt, his breathing was not still agitated because of it, but because of the delicate way your skin felt against his - give me that, I'll put it here okay? -You looked at him slowly taking the knife, placing it on the table and you smiled shyly walking away a few steps slowly so that he wouldn't feel threatened.
-That's it damn idiot, I bet you've never felt that before, huh?, You'll get so hard with this bitch that you'll forget why you came here- The disgusting old man laughed as he returned to his office, leaving the two of you alone, tense and nervous.
Thomas just looked at the floor shyly, he knew he was right, no one had ever touched him even by accident and that made him feel vulnerable.
-It's okay Thomas, don't worry about what he says go home, I hope you and your family are okay - you smiled at him again, turning around in a hurry, almost running to the bathroom, you could feel a knot in your stomach because of all the vices and meat that were scattered on the tables, crossing the long corridor in a hurry until you reached the bathroom where as soon as you opened the door you vomited.
Your knees on the cold floor and your hands holding your own hair made it impossible for you to hear what was happening outside, retching made your eyes water and after a few minutes with shaky legs you stood up wiping your lips with the front of your hand.
You took a little longer looking at yourself in the mirror, fixing the lipstick that had been ruined with your fingers and carefully washing your hands, always taking care of your image as mom had taught you since you were a girl.
After that you went to your desk putting away the few things that were left, a couple of photographs and your notebooks with notes that maybe would no longer work at all but you still wanted to keep them, after all they were from your first job so with the box of cardboard full of your belongings under your arm you prepared to go say goodbye to your boss.
-I'm done sir, is there anything I can do… -your feet stopped dead looking at the completely destroyed office, the desk was broken in half and there we re objects thrown all over the place- sir? - You walked in fear towards what looked like a pair of destroyed legs under the wood of the table and as soon as you got closer you could notice the old man lying in a pool of blood with his head shattered.
The box under your arm slid hard, making it sound on the floor as it fell while your hands covered your face and a loud scream came from your throat and you took steps backwards trying to get out of the traumatic scene until your back collided with a firm figure making you spin fast.
There was Thomas, looking at you with his strong breathing and his dark eyes like you had never seen before while he held a chainsaw in his hand.
-Thom..Thomas-you looked at him scared, walking back again in fear looking at his hand-leave…leave that, leave it on the floor
Only a growl came out of his throat, answering you firmly and confusedly, but it was definitely a refusal to your request.
-Please…don't hurt me, I won't say anything, I promise -your wet eyes and your heavy breathing made him doubt, of course you were going to say something, but in the same way he didn't want to hurt you, you were always kind to him, you were the only person who noticed him when he arrived and who received him every morning wishing him a good day.
Your eyes and his were staring at each other, as if either of you were waiting for a movement from the other to attack or to scream, whoever acted first was going to react to the other, but the sound of a car interrupted making both of you look towards the front door which after a few seconds opened and they both could notice Officer Hoyt entering with the gun in his hand.
-It's the police…- you looked at him again, curious as to how they could find out about the crime - Thomas, they are going to arrest you, if they find you they will take you with them.
The big man looked at the floor confused, realizing what he had done and a fear began to grow in him, not knowing what to do to remedy the mistake he had made.
-Come with me - you approached with fear, careful not to make any movement that would make him believe that you were going to attack him or that you were going to run away and again your hand held his so delicately that once again Thomas felt special - I will get you out of here
You hurriedly pulled his hand, his huge body almost following you, looking behind you in fear of being discovered, but at the same time in his mind he kept having that curiosity about how you had decided to help him after what he did, he was a murderer and what he had done was wrong
-Come, here there is a door through which we entered, it is far from the main door, no one will notice - you looked at him to make sure that he remained calm and after a few minutes walking you let go of his hand to push the door with both hands and help him escape - no one will find you if you get home quickly
Thomas shook his head, approaching you again but this time extending his hand, offering it to you while his head remained down and his eyes avoided looking at yours.
-Do you…do you want me to go with you? -You looked at him curiously with a little fear and he just slowly shook his hand indicating that he wanted you to take it so you carefully approached taking his hand, following his step when he began to walk without bothering his chainsaw in the other hand
The road was silent at first, just the two of you both walking along the side of the road under the strong Texas sun, at no time letting go of the other's hand, which in the same way if you wanted to you couldn't do it, his hand was huge and strong making Yours will be hidden between his thick fingers.
-And…is anyone from your family at home right now? -You looked at him curiously, feeling stupid knowing that he wouldn't answer you but he just nodded with his head without taking his eyes off the front-Oh really?…is…your mother?
He denied and you continued asking trying to guess who was home, feeling stupid and insistent.
-Well, your uncle? -You looked at him, sighing in relief when he nodded, looking at you with a touch of innocence that was difficult for you to believe after knowing that he had ended your boss's life - oh really? That's good…I'm alone you know, my mom moved to Austin a week ago and I told her I would go with her as soon as I finished my work.
Thomas looked at you stopping his pace, his gaze was the same as always but his eyebrows furrowed with some sadness making you also look at him without knowing what was happening.
-Something happens? I said something wrong? Thomas, sorry, I didn't want to…- your free hand barely moved on your chest, trying to make him understand that you were sorry from the bottom of your heart, but he barely grunted denied and leaving your hand, his finger carefully touched the center of your chest and then touched himself pointing at him - you?…I don't understand
He again pointed at you and then at him almost desperately as if he wanted to let you know what he wanted to say but his words did not come out and your little understanding of him was almost impossible.
-You…do you want…me?…Do you want me to stay…with you? - Thomas nodded, taking your hand again walking without waiting for you to take a step, making you stumble - but, I can't…
His hand gave a strong squeeze to yours making you moan a little in surprise, an action that made him feel something strange, that was also something new that he had heard from a girl,
-I really would like to stay but I have to go with my mother- your eyes kept looking at the road trying not to trip again but then you fixed them on him when you didn't hear any grunt from him, at this point you had already understood that this was his way of communicating.
But the road became even quieter, only your footsteps could be heard on the asphalt and from time to time a sigh came out of your mouth due to the suffocating heat you felt on your forehead.
It was a couple of meters ahead when again the sound of a car behind you made you turn your head, feeling relief but worried when you noticed the police car stopping in the middle of the road.
-Hands up son, stay away from that poor girl - Officer Hoyt pointed at Thomas, cutting the cartridge from his gun.
Thomas knew what that sound meant, he had heard it many times when he saw Charlie and Monty hunting, so with his hand he pushed you a little away from him worried that something bad could happen to you.
It was your time to run away, you could run and get away until you lost sight of them but something made you stay there, watching as the policeman pointed his gun at Thomas and honestly inside you just felt scared that something could happen to him.
-Sir, he didn't do anything wrong to me, we were just walking…- you looked at him trying to fix the situation, believing that that would be enough for him to leave.
-I saw what he did in the slaughterhouse sweetheart, you should not protect this damn animal- Hoyt looked at you for a second to return his attention to the big man in front of him. -You murdered a man ya’know, you will go to prison for what ya’did
You could feel your breathing really hard, nervous and afraid that a bullet could come out and hurt Thomas, after all yes, he murdered a man but he did it to defend himself after all the bad things that they had been done to him and in the same way , it was not such an exemplary man who died, so it had not been a great loss
-We have a problem, sheriff - your attention quickly focused on an elderly man who was holding a shotgun and shot without thinking killing the officer, again your hands covered your face while you screamed in fear.
-Calm down your little girlfriend, Thomas - the man laughed, approaching the body and a pair of hands held your shoulders delicately, making your hands lower in fear, looking at the giant in front of you.
-I want this to stop, I don't want to see any more people die - you looked at him crying with fear - I don't want to be next, I've only been good to you, please don't hurt me.
-No one will hurt you darling- the old man laughed as he placed the sheriff's hat over his cap - This is the girl who's been making you hard for months uh Tommy? She is very pretty, of course we won't do anything bad to her right?
The fear inside you grew more and more, this man was even more disgusting than your boss was and it seemed that like Thomas, he had the idea that from today you would be part of the family and you would stay with them forever
Thomas looked at the man next to him, giving him a growl and standing in front of you looking at him threateningly.
-What? you're in love? - his laugh was louder this time - okay, I won't say anything to your little doll, now come here and put the sheriff in the trunk before he stink.
Thomas took a couple of steps and effortlessly took the officer's lifeless body and placed it in the trunk without difficulty, all in front of your disbelieving eyes.
-Come on honey get in the car, we have to go home with mama after all she has to meet her new girl
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Thanks for reading
Part 2 here!
#slasher#slasher community#slasher fandom#texas chainsaw massacre#texas chainsaw massacre the beggining#thomas hewitt#thomas hewitt fluff#thomas hewitt x reader#slasher x reader#tcm#thomas hewitt x y/n#thomas hewitt x you#thomas hewitt smut#the texas chainsaw massacre
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Hi can we get some dad!Lando being such a girl dad, like letting the gremlins do makeup on him or like fashions shows pls ♥️♥️
A/N: Lando screams girl dad and it's just so cute tbh
"Are you sure you and the girls are going to be, okay?" You've left Lando alone with the girls before. But this time you were going on a girl's trip and he was in charge. You have complete faith in your husband, but your girls could be utter terrors when they wanted to be. "Y/n, we'll be fine." Lando soothes your worries.
"Okay, just if you need me. Call me," Lando starts to shove you out of the door. "I love you," He kisses you before closing the door. "Girls! Bailey? Daphene?" Lando sighs, his wife was right. The girls could be little terrors, and when the house was silent, he knew they were doing something they shouldn't be.
"Up here Daddy!' He sighs, hearing Daphene the oldest, yell from the girl's playroom. "Okay, so," he opens the door freezing when he sees his girls faces covered in makeup. "Alright, that's for another conversation but, Mommy has left for her trip. Meaning we're on our own and if you're good, I'll take you to a race." Bailey's head snaps up, red bright red and smeared.
"Really?" "Yes really, which means," "We get to see Uncle Max!" Bailey squeals, vibrating with excitement. Lando sighs, how did he lose his baby to Max, he'll never understand. "Daddy? Will you do something for us?" "Of course, baby." Pulling Daphene into his lap.
"Can you play dress up with us?" Daphene at 7, still loved playing with her 5-year-old sister and was just like Lando. Kept to herself until she was around someone, she's comfortable with. "Of course, I'd be hurt if you didn't ask me to play." The girls smile, bolting to their large treasure chest and flinging it open.
Lando laughs, as the girls find tiaras, fluffy scarfs with feathers that fill off and itched. Plastic shoes that clicked each time and rubbed his feet raw. Even finding him hard plastic earrings that clipped to his ears.
"Daddy, stay still." Bailey whines. Lando was staying still, as she smeared bright red lipstick all over his face. "Where did you find the makeup?" Lando asks, closing his eyes as Daphene layers eyeshadow on. "From Mommy's room." His eyes open fast, taking a deep breath he makes a mental note to go to your favorite store and replace it.
"All done!" Lando smiles, holding up the small mirror and tries his best not to lose it. "Daddy is pretty!" Daphene squeals. "Yes, and you made me pretty!" Lando smiles, hugging them. "Fashion show!" Lando laughs, standing up as he starts posing the girls giggling.
Daphene grabs Lando's phone and starts to take photos of Lando, none of them flattering but they're more for memories and to laugh about when they're older. "What are you doing Daph?" "Nothing, Daddy." She smiles sweetly and closes the phone.
It's not until dinner, and they're all cleaned off when Lando finally checks is phone. The girls sit in the living room watching Steve Irwin, what every kid watched when Lando was a child. Seeing all the texts and notifications he opens up Instagram and freezes.
All the pictures Daphene took are on his Instagram captioned with; Doesn't Daddy look pretty?
"Girls!"
Daphene's eyes fly open as she looks at Bailey. "I think he knows!" Lando wants to be furious but hearing their giggles calms that anger quickly. It might be embarrassing, but these memories were forever.
#formula 1#f1 fandom#f1#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 x y/n#formula one#f1 scenario#f1 fluff#dad!lando norris#lando norris#f1 blurb#f1 oneshot#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x female reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris f1
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𓏲 ₊˚๑ ꒰ His . ꒱ ໑‧₊˚.ꪆ
MENTIONS - Breeding, punishments), edging, stomach bulging, death of others, two cocks, stretching out, FTM!Reader, degradation(Slut, Whore, Etc.)
꒰ ୨୧・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
"M-my lord." You whimpered out just barely being able to speak properly..he was fucking you stupid. quite literally.. You were planted down on both of his cocks as he then spoke in his usual cold unbothered tone but with a hint of desire. "What is it?" One of Sukunas many hands grasped your chin forcing you to look at him, he did that smile you loved so much. That evil grin showing off his sharp fangs. Those beautiful blood moon colored eyes piercing at you whilst him fucking you in front of his servants like there wasn't a care in the world, "please..it's sho..b..big..! I don't think I- haagh! Knghh! And they're watching it’s so..embarrassing!!.." you moaned out, He then spoke once again but glaring at you.." Let them watch, I want them to know you belong to me." He thrusted one more final time as he then stopped moving his hips having you sit on his cocks, making you feel the warmth and length of them. They were so fucking big..you didn't know how much more your little cunt could take at this point, you just wanted him to fuck and cum inside you, you squirmed and wiggled your hips around trying to feel his cocks at least move inside you.. this was torture.
He'd fuck you then stop, fuck you and stop. Right before your climax..it was so mean. But a whore like you deserves it. He smacked your cunt you then gasped out feeling his two cocks go deeper into your womb you swore he was going to tear you in half if he kept going at this rate.. but that doesn't matter, you are there to server him, satisfy his needs, he's your master. Your god. Everything, you will do something even if you don't want too, after he just wanted to help his poor little servant stut... after he caught you in your room fucking yourself dumb with a 9 inch thick dildo. "You can take it, you will take it. Now spread your legs for me, pet.." he whispered in your ear as he began to pump his hot throbbing cocks into your warm heat. You spread your legs more as you then felt two of his big hands force your legs to open even more, he was so big..at least 10 inches maybe even 12, a bulge formed on your stomach going in and out from how deep he was inside your wet cunt. He thrusted his cocks in and out at a fast pace but purposely avoiding your g-spot, he wasn't about to hit it just yet. After all you were a bad boy who needed to learn his place.
Precum slightly coating your tight gummy walls. It felt like lube but it still hurts from how much he's stretching you out with his cocks alone..he didn't prep you. Just shoved them in. After all that's what you deserve. He fucked you at such high and fast paces.the thrusts were so hard against your g-spot you were fucking melting at this point. Your sweet little moans turned into screams. Screaming his name as you bounced on his cocks..You feel every vein, every inch..all of it. His cocks were so warm inside that wet tight cunt. You loved it. He knew you did, that's why he did it. His groans were like music to your ears you just wanted him to feel good..you were just about to cum as you then moaned out, "Kuna! Oh my gawd~!.yes fuck fuck fuck... yes fuck me right there..AH! CUM IN ME~!" You were spouting that shit out like a dumb slut drunk on your masters cocks. He let out a few more harsh thrusts as he then cummed inside of you. You came along with him..both of you liquids mixing together, he kept his cocks inside your heat to his cum inside of you.
The mouth on his stomach then began lickin' up the cum off your thighs and cunt..it then licked and nibbled on your clit. You gasped in surprise..you were a mess. A slutty mess..cumming on your masters cocks like you had no shame. Your eyes then rolled to the back of your skull, your lips slowly parting open as you let out weak pathetic moans...drool came out of your mouth. Disgusting. But Sukuna didn't care, you were his after all and he didn't care what you looked like at this moment, he just knew he wanted to fuck that naughty fucking brat of his. As loyal as you were to him he still viewed you as a nasty slut who just wants his tight cunt fucked until he blacks out. That's the type of man you are for him, you convince yourself you only serve him because that's your duty, your role in life. But no.. that's not the case. You're a dirty fucking whore who wants to sit on his cocks and allow his servants to watch the both of you fuck. There are other punishments like he makes you watch him fuck and cum into other women or men, doesn't matter. He does it to make you not misbehave again. He then kills them off after though..he wouldn't really keep them alive as he wouldn't want them knowing about his little 'alone time' he had with you. He gives his servants a little show as he kills them off right after he's fucked you. that's just how he is. He claims what's his, and you're his. And he's yours. "S'much..of 'Kuna's cum..Mmph..wanna carry..your..kids."
you mumbled out to him, your head laying on his chest as your whole body was up against him. You were too weak to move as obviously you could barely form words. "Oh? You want to carry my heirs? Do you think you're good enough for that." Sukuna asked you, looking down at your limp body that slightly twitched from the cold air hitting your bare body. "... wanna try.please." you pleaded with him softly sniffling, you wanted his children even if he didn't love you like you loved him, you just wanted him so bad. "So be it.." he then leaned down a bit as he came a bit more inside you letting it all travel inside your womb..from the amount of cum he'd put inside you, you then blacked out onto him, you were out of energy to keep your eyes open or even stay awake. you'd sure be pregnant by tomorrow morning..but that's what you wanted right? To hold your masters heir.
꒰ ୨୧・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x male reader#ftm!reader#male!reader#gay#ftm reader#male reader#jjk x ftm reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#smut#gay smut#ftm smut#ftm bottom#ftm ns/fw#ftm sub
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Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Saturday)
Summary | Back together as a family, but with a secret confession burning in your pocket. How is Tommy going to take the fact that you love his brother more than you probably should?
Word Count | 4.8K
Chapter Warnings | Our family back together. Mentions of consumption of alcohol & food. Explicit sex. Unprotecting PiV, breeding kink, (double)creampie (I said what I said👀), cum play, a sprinkling of anal/ass play, threesome dynamics (MMF), dirty talk, Tommy back to being our favourite cuck in the room kinda, Joel back to being our favourite breeding stud.
Authors Note | I.... actually think I hate this lmao. It's the first time I've felt meh about a chapter of this story, but the longer I look at it, the more I know I'll hate it, so I'm sharing it anyway. It's refreshing to have our trio back together though, they're as filthy as ever so I hope you all enjoy it! Two more chapters to go until we wrap up with these three and I am so emotional. If you enjoy this, please consider commenting, reblogging or coming into my ask box to scream with me. And, as always, If you want to support me, you can donate to my Ko-Fi.
A reminder that I no longer use taglists - to keep up with my writing, please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to keep up to date.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi
Joel wakes the next morning to you wriggling about in his arms. He cracks an eye open just enough to see you clambering to straddle his lap, palms resting on his biceps to steady yourself as you lower your pussy onto him, already hard, to drag him through your folds, already soaked for him, or maybe still soaked from him from last night.
“Mornin’ trouble,” He speaks, voice still heavy with sleep, “What are you up to?”
His hands shift to your hips so you don’t stop those slow glides of your silken folds across him, watching as you shift your face from watching between you, to his own face. You bite at your bottom lip, bashful like a child who has been caught doing something they shouldn’t be.
“We could have fucked all day yesterday,” You drawl out, gasping as the head of his cock brushes against your clit, “I’m just trying to make up for lost time before we have a houseful of people.”
He drags your hips back and forth over him, watching as you toss your head back and gasp with every pass of him over your clit. He’s trying not to think about the fact that in a few short hours, you’re not going to be his anymore, you’ll go back to being his brother’s, a façade kept up for the sake of the rest of your family. He pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind, sitting up so he can wrap his arms around your back and kiss you.
“You gonna ride me, pretty girl?” He murmurs against your lips, “Gonna sit on my cock and make yourself feel good?”
You pull back, look right into his eyes, hips still grinding against his, “Fuck yeah,” You breathe, “Can I?”
“Such a good girl,” He growls into the skin of your neck, “Askin’ all pretty and polite like that,” He settles himself back on the bed, head on the pillows, “Go on, pretty girl, take whatever you need from me.”
You use your hands that are back on his chest to push yourself up a little, reaching one hand down between you to grip the base of his cock, lining it up to your soaked core, before you sink down onto him in one go, burying him inside you to the hilt. He groans, and you cry out, feeling that twinge of pain along with the pleasure that has been so prevalent over those past few days.
You lift yourself up, almost all the way off him, sinking back down, finding your rhythm, which Joel quickly adheres to, thrusting himself up into you on your downward strokes so his cock is brushing against your cervix almost every time. His hands favour your tits this morning, cupping the weight of them in his palms as his fingers roll your nipples into peaks, squeezing perfectly every once in a while, to add to the mix of pleasure you get from him spearing his cock into you.
You lean back, motions moving to more of a grind on his cock as you cup his balls in your hand, rolling them gently in your hand, as Joel’s own fingers slip down your body and find your swollen clit, thumb rubbing circles across it as you continue to grind on him.
“You gonna come on my cock, pretty girl?” He asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer.
Heat is licking at the base of your spine, threatening to topple you over at any moment, and you can tell from the way his hips are stuttering up into you, that Joel is close as well. You’ve had each other too many times this week for this to last very long.
“Fuck- keep going,” You groan, feeling that tight knot threatening to come undone in your tummy, “I’m – holy shit – I’m gonna come.”
“Go on, pretty girl,” Joel coaxes, thumb staying exactly where it is, doing exactly what it needs to do, “Come for me.”
And you do. Pussy clenching around his cock as you fall forward. Joel’s arms wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest as he takes control, thrusting up into you as you moan into the skin of his neck. He chases your high with his own, spilling into you just seconds after your own climax hits, his fingers digging into the skin of your back as he holds you tightly to his body.
As you both lie there, catching your breath, he wants to say something. Wants to push the hair from your face, kiss the tip of your nose and tell you that he wishes this didn’t have to end. Wishes that he didn’t have to wait a month to find out if he was successful in giving you another baby. Joel selfishly wishes he hasn’t, just so he doesn’t have to go back to waiting for that one night a year. He remembers though, his words from last night, that he’s trusting you to fix this, to come up with some solution that means he can have you differently going forward, so he keeps his mouth shut, only opening it once he’s pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I love you.”
Breakfast is a cobbled together affair of fruit and coffee considering most of the groceries you’d bought together have been eaten. You sent Tommy a list of things for him to pick up on his way to you. He’d set off yesterday, stopping halfway to spend the night somewhere, not convinced that Joshua would cope with doing the whole journey at once, and it shouldn’t be long until they’re here, Sarah too.
“Excited, baby?” Joel asks, pressing you against the counter to dip and kiss you once you’ve both finished the washing up.
“I am going to give my baby the biggest squeeze known to man,” You smile against his mouth, “As much as he exhausts me sometimes, I’ve missed him.”
“We talking about Joshua or Tommy?” Joel teases, hands wrapping around you to grip the globes of your ass through your jeans.
You laugh, feeling light again. This man is the Joel you know, the Joel you love. The man who loves his brother just as much as you do, probably even more, and who takes his duties as Uncle incredibly seriously. You peer over his shoulder, looking at the clock on the wall, there’s enough time for a quickie, is what you think. You start trailing your hand down his chest, resting it on the front of his jeans, palming him through the material. You’re about to start dragging down the zipper when the front door opens.
“Dad?!”
Joel pulls back from you like you’re on fire, putting enough distance between you so as to not look suspicious as he calls out to Sarah.
“In here, kiddo!”
He gives you a look that tells you he’s sorry, that he wants nothing more than to have that one final moment with you on your own. You shake your head, heat flushing across your face at almost being caught, motioning for him to go to his daughter. Sarah finds the kitchen first, embracing her dad as he kisses the crown of her head.
“Hello brainbox,” You greet her when Joel lets her go, pulling her into a hug of your own, “You look good!” You say when you finally let her go, keeping her at an arm’s length to really look at her.
“Thanks,” She smiles, looking around for a second, “Where’s Uncle Tommy?”
You look at Joel over her head, because right. The story he concocted for her meant that he’s been here all week with Joshua and the two of them are nowhere to be seen, and neither is his truck.
“Uhhhhh…” You glare at Joel’s response, quickly trying to come up with something in your mind.
“He’s out grocery shopping,” You say quickly, Joel nodding in acceptance, “Ran out of stuff this morning so he’s taken Joshua into town to stock up.”
She nods, accepting your answer, moving back to give her dad another hug, “Which room is mine?” She asks, “I’ll go and drop my bag.”
“First door on the left.” Joel speaks, pointing down the hallway across from the kitchen.
“Alright, I might get changed too,” Sarah nods her head outside, “It’s a nice day, maybe we can take Joshua swimming?”
“Of course,” You smile, “Take your time, bug, there’s no rush.”
Once she’s started off down the hall, you fish your phone from your back pocket, punching in a text to Tommy, as Joel shifts back closer to you, not being able to bear being away from you too long.
Sarah arrived. Covered for your absence. Message me when you’re on your way from town and I’ll meet you outside.
You lean up into Joel’s face, letting him kiss you as you put your phone on the side. You push up into his mouth, opening your lips against him to taste his tongue when your phone vibrates on the side.
Just leaving town now sugar, great timing. See you soon.
You put a hand on Joel’s chest, leaning up to give him one last peck on the lips, “Tommy’s almost here,” You say against his mouth, okay, now this is the last kiss as you press them back to his, “I’ll wait outside for them.”
He smiles but his eyes are sad. You’ve spent long enough staring into them to know that look. You press one final kiss to his mouth now, “Remember I love you,” You insist, “And I’m gonna make this right.”
“I believe you,” He relents, squeezing your hand as you move around him to head to the front door, “And I love you too.”
“Mama!”
“Oh, my baby boy!” You exclaim, pulling Joshua out of his car seat and into your arms, holding him tight to your chest as his small arms try and wrap around your neck, “I missed you so much baby.”
As much as this trip had given you the opportunity to be a woman again, not just a mother, the way your son fits into your arms, the way he smells when you take a breath of his hair into your lungs and the way he nuzzles into your face make motherhood all worth it. You have never loved something as much as this boy in your arms. Not your husband, and not his brother, and that’s something you never thought would be true. Something you’d never thought you’d ever understand.
Tommy is rounding the front of the truck, slipping his hand into the back pocket of your jeans as you lean your face up, kissing him, “Missed you too, handsome,” You smile, pulling your attention back to Joshua, giving his cheek a kiss, “Have you and daddy had fun this week?”
“Yeah!” Joshua exclaims, wriggling about in your arms, he’s almost too big for you to hold like this anymore, “We played lots!”
“That sounds like fun,” You smile, turning back to Tommy, “We told Sarah you’d gone to town for supplies, so that,” You motion to his and Joshua’s overnight bags, “Will have to stay hidden until we can sneak them in.”
Joshua wriggles a bit more in your arms, “Uncle Joel!”
You turn slightly towards the lodge, where Joel is coming down the steps. He reaches out and claps his brother on the back in their usual greeting, before he reaches over and pinches Joshua’s cheek gently between his thumb and pointer finger.
“Hey bud,” He greets, “You’re getting so big!”
Joshua unwraps his arms from your neck and reaches out to Joel, flexing his fingers in the way he does when he wants something. Joel laughs, “Let me help your dad get everythin’ outta the car bud,” He smiles, “Then we’ll have a cuddle, okay?”
You smile at Tommy as Joel rounds to the back of the truck, opening the back door to reach in and grab some of the grocery bags, “Help your brother,” You smile at Tommy, leaning up to kiss his cheek, “I’ll take this little monster inside.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Tommy speaks, a little two-finger salute added for effect.
It’s been a wonderful day. The sun has started to dip behind the trees, a cool breeze opening up a little. Sarah and Joel are still playing in the water with Joshua, their laughs mixed with his as they splash each other in the water. You’re sat on a towel by the shore, head leant against Tommy’s damp shoulder, his hand resting on your knee.
You’ve been in and out of the water all day, floating around with Sarah and Joshua, watching as Sarah plays with him on her own, sitting off to the side as Joel and Tommy sip beers and catch up. You smile the whole day, laugh for most of it too, but there’s always that fear that threatens to spill over when you think about what you have to do.
There are nerves bubbling in your tummy. You have to tell him. You have to speak to him. Looking out at the water, to where Joshua is perched on Joel’s shoulders and Sarah is splashing water at her dad, you know you have to tell him, but you’re still not quite sure how he’s going to react. You’ve run through this conversation so many times in your head over the last twenty-four hours, switching your opening sentence, developing your defence, but none of that comes out now, what comes out surprises even you.
“I love him.” Easiest to tear the band-aid straight off, you think.
Tommy barks a laugh next to you which surprises you. You lift your head off his shoulder and look at him, he’s smiling, “I know you do.”
“But I love you too.” You quickly add.
“I know that too,” He’s looking back at you now, clearly understanding the confusion on your face, “Why do you think I had no problem lettin’ you come here with him, huh?” He asks, squeezing the hand he’s got resting on your knee, “Or the way I’ve never complained about letting you go with him for his birthday?”
“Are you not mad?” You ask, biting at your bottom lip.
“No sugar, I’m not mad,” He leans down, kissing your cheek, “I love that man more than you will ever understand, he’s always had my back, always bailed me outta the shitty situations I’ve got myself into, never once thought about himself since that little girl was born,” He nods his head towards Sarah, “You make each other so happy, I ain’t ever seen Joel so happy since he started helpin’ us out, and I want nothing more than to keep makin’ him happy.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” You insist, your own hand resting on his thigh.
“I know you don’t, I don’t want you to leave either,” You can feel your eyes start to well with tears, “I’ve been sharin’ you for years baby, and I ain’t gonna stop because you two have finally admitted you love each other.”
“Finally?” You ask, using your free hand to wipe at your eyes, “What do you mean?”
“Baby, I’ve been watchin’ you fuck him for months, I know I’m slow sometimes, but I’d have to be fuckin’ blind not to see what you mean to each other.”
You maneuver yourself so you’re practically sat in his lap, arms wrapped around his neck as you cry into his shoulder a little. You wonder in this moment what it was that you did to deserve him, to deserve them both. Two men who love you unconditionally, who just want you to be the happiest you can be, and two brothers who just want to see the other happy too.
You pull back, clutching Tommy’s face in your hands, “So you don’t mind if I want to see him more often?” You ask timidly.
“Not at all, sugar,” He leans forward, kissing your lips, "That man has never once thought about himself, put himself first, not since Sarah came along, and it's about time he did something for himself, we've just gotta help him right?" He asks, to which you nod in response, “We’re lucky men to have you.”
“And I’m a lucky girl to have you both.”
Things had seemed so normal over dinner. Tommy had grilled an insane amount of meat that’d you’d all devoured. You’d drank beers together, Joshua had sat on Joel’s lap for most of the night, favouring his uncle over anyone else. It felt like it always did when you were all together as a family, Sarah feeding small bits of food to Joshua, Tommy’s hand on your knee under the table as you all talk about different things – how Sarah is getting on at college, how this time next year Joshua will have started school. You know they’re different now though, although Joel doesn’t. You wonder if he’d seen you speaking with Tommy earlier, if he did then he must know that things are okay, right? That there wasn’t an argument so it must be okay. You want to tell him, want to take his face in your hands and kiss him at the table so he knows everything is okay.
You’re propped up against the pillows of your bed now – those so familiar to you now after this week. Reading the book you’d been trying so hard to focus on this whole week and still finding you can’t quite concentrate on it. Tommy had put Joshua to bed a few hours ago, Sarah had gone to bed at the same time as you, leaving the brothers on their own to clean up and catch up. You wonder now what they might be talking about.
It's not long before you find out exactly what they’ve been talking about. There’s a soft knock at the door before it opens, revealing Tommy, who steps into the dimly lit room, closely followed by Joel, who closes the door behind him gently.
“Hello.” You greet, looking up from your book.
“Joel’s been tellin’ me what a good girl you’ve been for him all week,” Tommy speaks, “He’s given you a glowing report, sugar.”
Oh. So that’s what they’ve been talking about. You wonder if Tommy told him? Wonder whether he’s given his brother the permission he needed to have you like he wants. You close your book and set it on the nightstand, turning back to them.
“We’ve been trying really hard baby,” You speak, voice sweet, “Haven’t we Joel?” You look into that familiar face, “I’ve been so full all week trying real hard for this baby.”
Tommy walks slowly to your side of the bed, gripping your chin to tilt your face up to look at him whilst Joel watches on.
“You gonna show me what you’ve been gettin’ up to?” He asks softly, “Gonna let me fuck you?”
Tommy pulls back the duvet, letting his fingers gently trace down between the valley of your breasts, covered by your nightdress. He trails further down to the hem, letting his hand sneak under the material. You spread your legs for him slightly, keeping your eyes on his as his fingers slip between your folds finding you already wet for them both.
“Looks like the answer is yes,” He chuckles, dipping down to kiss you as he drags his slick fingers up to your clit to circle gently, “How about you give Joel your pretty mouth, baby?” He asks, “I’ve missed this pussy, I gotta be inside you.”
He takes his hand away from you, letting you shift so you’re on your hands and knees, nightdress pushed up to the small of your back, so you’re spread and on display for Tommy. You reach out a hand and motion with a finger for Joel to come to you, which he does, hands already moving to unzip his jeans. Joel lets them pool on the floor before he gets onto the bed in front of you, fist around the base of his already hard cock, guiding it to your mouth at the exact same time as Tommy nudges himself inside you, sliding in slowly until you’re full of him, Joel doing the exact same to your mouth, letting his cock slip across the length of your tongue until he hits the back of your throat.
He feels absolutely delicious inside of you, like he always has done for all these years, angling just perfectly inside you to brush against that spot that's been so stimulated this past week. Your moans are muffled, vibrating around Joel's cock as you take him down into your throat, saliva pooling around the edges of your mouth.
This, you think, is what you were made for. To have two men, two of the most beautiful men in the world, taking their pleasure from you, but giving you twice that in return.
Joel's hand grips your chin as he starts shallow thrusts into your mouth, you look up at him, your own eyes rimmed with tears, his blown out and dark from lust as he fucks your mouth, groaning in pleasure when you do.
"You're a lucky girl, ain't ya sugar?" Tommy husks from behind you, his skin slapping against yours, "Two men here to adore ya," He leans over and kisses at the skin covering your spine, "Always were meant to be the centre of attention."
Joel lets his cock slip from your mouth, looking down at you with one eyebrow cock, his hand around your jaw to get you to look at him, “He’s right, ain’t he, pretty girl?” He asks, running a thumb over you spit soaked bottom lip, “Love bein’ the centre of attention, don’t ya?” You nod, totally overwhelmed by the feeling of Tommy’s pace behind you, but Joel taps your cheek, “Words, pretty girl,” He chastises, “Use your big girl words.”
Tommy’s hands grip your hips, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “Yes!” You gasp, realising you have to try and keep quiet, Sarah’s only just down the hall.
“Yes what?”
“I love it,” You whimper, looking up at him, “Love being the centre of attention.”
“Course ya do,” Tommy quips from behind you, “We love you bein’ the centre of attention too.”
Joel uses his fist to guide his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, resuming his short thrusts into your mouth as Tommy pounds into you from behind. The sounds in the room are obscene – there’s the sound of Tommy’s skin hitting your own, the sound of you almost gagging on Joel’s cock, and the mixture of grunts and groans that are pulled from their mouths as they use your body to make themselves feel good. You almost wish you could see yourself right now, speared at both ends of your body by these two men.
Joel trails his fingers as far down your arm as he can, and you think he’s asking for you to put your hand on his balls as you take him in your mouth, so you do, but he’s swatting it away, gripping your wrist as you look up at him again, tears falling down your face.
“Put it on your pussy,” He instructs, “Make yourself come for us.”
You snake your hand down, fingers circling your clit, slick as always. You start working in fast movements just as you feel Tommy’s thumb start to tease the tight ring of muscle of your ass. You whimper again around Joel’s cock as his hands gather your hair, using it to drag your mouth up and down him.
“You want it, sugar?” Tommy asks, pulling his thumb away before you hear him spit, the warmth spreading down your ass as his thumb works the wet into your skin there.
Joel, once again, pulls his cock from the wet heat of your mouth, motioning for you to talk, “Go on, pretty girl,” He coaxes, “Tell him you want it, we know you love it.”
“Please,” You breathe out a beg, pushing back lightly into his finger, “Please, Tommy.”
“Always sound so fucking pretty when you beg for it baby,” He chuckles behind you, “I’ll give it to ya, don’t worry.”
When his thumb pushes inside of you, as the same time as Joel feeds you his cock once more, it’s almost immediate, the way your orgasm slams into you. Stuffed full in every possible way, as Tommy’s thumb presses gently into your ass, as Joel’s cock hits the back of your throat over and over again and the way Tommy is pounding into that delicious spot inside you as always. The knot of pleasure snaps, Joel’s cock muffling your cries as your pussy clenches around Tommy, walls fluttering as you work your clit through the aftershocks, body convulsing almost violently.
“God damn it sugar,” Tommy groans behind you, “Gonna – fuck – m’gonna come baby, where?”
“Inside,” You moan, pulling off Joel’s cock, “Please, inside me baby.”
He gives you exactly what you want just seconds later, stilling behind you, with his cock buried as deep as he’ll go. He lets out that sound that you love, a high-pitched whine that’s similar to some of the sounds he and his brother draw from you as you feel him fill you up. He’s not giving you much time to recover, groaning lightly as he pulls out, stopping briefly to watch as his cum drips from your spent pussy.
You roll onto your back, fingers drifting down and inside of you, slowly pumping in and out as Joel comes into view. He stands at the side of your bed, pulls at your legs so the backs of your thighs are pressed against his chest, ankles by his face. He pulls your hand away from your pussy, pushing your fingers into your mouth as you clean Tommy’s cum off them.
“Go on brother,” Tommy encourages, settling himself on the bed behind you, “You’ve still got a job to do.”
“Ain’t no way she’s not full of my baby,” Joel growls as he sinks his cock into your pussy, your slick and the cum his brother’s just filled you with making it so easy for him to slide in all the way, “Is there, pretty girl?”
His hands are splayed over your stomach now as he pounds his cock into you, the squelch of your pussy filling the room, “Filled me up so good, Joel,” You moan, hands palming at your tits as your head turns to look at Tommy, “Been full of him all week baby.” You say in his direction.
The attention you’ve been giving Joel with your mouth means he’s already on the edge, “Sucked me so good, pretty girl,” He mumbles, “Gonna come for you.”
You’re gripping the backs of his thighs, pulling him closer to you as he ruts himself as hard and fast into you as he can manage, “Please Joel,” You sob, feeling the head of his cock bruising at your cervix, “Give it to me, please.”
“Quit your crying,” He spits, “You know I’m gonna give it to you.”
And like clockwork he does. He groans out, low and loud as always, as you feel the hot spurts of his cum filling you up, mixing with what Tommy gave you just minutes ago. He slips out of you, watching as his cum mixed with his brother’s drips from your used cunt. He runs his fingers down the folds of your pussy, scooping up what’s left you, pushing it back in, because he’s got to be sure, got to be sure that he’s given you every drop of himself.
You expect the aftermath to be a little strange as you pull the hem of your nightdress back down. Tommy’s already half asleep on the bed, clothes haphazardly thrown back on as he shuffles himself under the sheets. You follow suit, watching as Joel puts him underwear back on.
Tommy has already wrapped an arm around your waist, dragging you to his body, light breath fanning against the skin of your neck. You’re watching Joel as he straightens up.
“Hey,” You speak softly, grabbing his attention, you reach out a hand which he takes, “Stay.” You say simply, tapping the empty side of the bed, the side of the bed that had been his all week.
He smiles, squeezing your hand, and you think he might refuse, opting to take the final bedroom, but he doesn’t. He climbs onto the bed, far enough away that your bodies don’t touch, respecting the claim Tommy has staked by holding your body close to his, but keeps his hand in yours, as physical reminder that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere. He leans forward, soft kiss pressed to your lips, before his other hand pushes your hair back from your face.
“Sleep, pretty girl,” He insists softly, “Tomorrow is a new day.”
And sleep you do – one Miller brother strong against your back, arm draped over your waist, other Miller brother led facing you, chocolate brown eyes watching you as you drift off to sleep, your hand clutched in his to anchor you to him just as much as you’re anchored to his brother. As your eyes close and you drift off, you realise you’re exactly where you want to be, held by both the men you love, and that’s absolutely enough for you right now.
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