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#i'll tell you a million tiny things

imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

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Hiya, I was reading your "how txt would sound in bed" post and was wondering if you could do the same for Stray kids :)

Your writing is amazing, thank you so much💙✌️

starting off with channie, he's not too loud i don't think.

he is very breathy and kinda more on the throaty side. that's just when he's trying to be quiet though, when you're in his studio and the boys are in the next room or and your hand just feels so good moving up and down his sensitive cock, he feels like he's losing his mind.

he isn't too much louder when you're alone but i do feel like he would be so much more whiny and when he's not whining, he's moaning and he moans with his accent and dear lord.

lixie's moans would be so pretty, so deep and rich omg. just like his deep voice normally, his moans would be the exact same.

but also in my heart and soul i think that if he got into it (if you played with his nipples), his voice would get several octaves higher.

he'd keen and mewl a lot, getting so much more vocal when he's about to cum, whining high and cute.

he'll be going red when you point it out, fucking hell imagine him with sweater paws, getting fucked out of his mind but you saying his moans are the cute is the most embarrassing thing in this moment and he just covers his face with the sweater paws with a cute little 'stoooop'.

honestly, hyunjin took me a little while because i couldn't figure it out. after some contemplation though i've come to a conclusion,

he'd be kinda a middle range in volume, not too loud or too quiet, but that changes depending on the situation.

he really is a performer and that doesn't change in bed at all. even if he's getting railed so hard he's seeing stars he still keeps note of exactly what sets you off.

exactly which noises he makes seem to illicit that hungry look in your eye. he changes based on what you like, plays with you by using it against you. whether you like him quieter or louder (you better like him louder or i don't trust you) he notices and then it's just a game to see how long it is until he starts making them in a non-sexual way in your normal life, waiting for the moment you'll snap and fuck him against the kitchen counter.

now my sweet little brat lee know would grunt and groan a lot pretty quietly because he doesn't want to moan and let you know how good he feels.

when he gets really close though or falls into subspace, he just gets so completely overwhelmed with pleasure that he really can't care anymore, utterly debauched sounds falling from those puffy lips, all swollen from how much he's bitten them. super loud and super ruined, any and every curse under the sun gasped or whined out.

it's really adorable to see him going from somewhat composed, but clearly trying his best to stay that way and then just melt away with the pleasure, dissolving into a mess, a slave to the sensations that you give him<33

the cute little puppy seungmin, he pants a lot, whimpers a bit, akin to a puppy-

but he isn't that loud in general, he'll have to place his mouth right by your ear for you to hear his tiny mewls and whispers for more, honestly it's pretty perfect for when you're pegging him in mating press or missionary, and his face is buried into your neck

he'll happily make himself a bit louder just for you but only if you ask him nicely-and only if puppy gets a reward

my little perv jisung, babygirl's a shrieker for sureee, gasping, moaning, screaming, losing the very concept of composure, thoughts a jumbled mess just because of how good you make him feel.

gives zero fucks for anyone else around-i've said it a million times and i'll say it again, there is not a single ounce of concern for common decency when he moans out loudly from the vibrating plug up his ass in a public area.

dirty talker 10000%, learned it all from the absolutely sinful-*sigh*, just check his browser search history. baby's got a mouth on him and will not shut up unless you gag him.

he also definitely gets upset when you tell him that he has to be quiet, pouting and maybe even shedding a tear, asking why you don't wanna hear his noises.

binnie, he would sound so cuteee-

it really depends where you are because he's really shy and if you're anywhere that people would possibly walk in on you (gym locker room) it's gonna be heavy breathing and the tiniest n e e d i e s t little 'please' e v e r

and he isn't that loud to begin with but when you're in private, just the two of you, looking up at you with the sweetest cutest doe eyes in the world,

then he really feels like he can lose himself into all of the sensations, he loses it real quick tbh just of how sensitive he is and can hardly bring himself to be quiet.

and lastly, with innie, poor baby just gets so overwhelmed and so flustered, he'll try to cover his face and muffle his moans until you pull his hands away (or tie them over his head). even then though he won't let you really hear him, biting his lip or swallowing the moan crawling up his throat

he'll try to bury his face into your skin, trying to distract himself, take his mind off of how good he feels while marking you all up,

when he finally does let you hear him though-it really should be a crime that he didn't let you sooner, absolutely heavenly, absolutely sinful, wholly and utterly delectable. soft whimpers and full moans, ughhhh.

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xxoxobree · 9 months

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Miles G x Black Fem Reader

Summary: Revenge is oh so sweet

WARNINGS: A Few bad words , one tiny suggestive scene, aged up.

Saturday.

You sat in your bed, laptop placed on your lap as you continued to finish your work. But your mind was elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of him. Miles. Ever since he left last Saturday, he had been the only thing on your mind.

Feeling restless, you shut your laptop and tossed it to the side. A small smile graced your lips as you picked up your phone to check the time. It was already 6 pm. Your heart quickened its pace. Should you start getting ready? You always wanted to look your best for him.

You freshened up, fixed your hair and makeup, and sat on your bed, waiting for him. Tonight felt different. It felt like the night you would finally win him over, the night he would finally see you. The night he would choose you to be his number one.

But as hours and hours ticked by, there was no sign of him. Not even a text. You checked your phone again, now reading 1 am. The disappointment weighed heavily on your heart. What happened? Why didn't he show up?

He's usually always here at 10, or he'd at least send you a text saying he'd be late. The minutes ticked by, and there was no sign of him. Frustration started to bubble within you, wondering if he was flaking on you for his "girlfriend" again.

"Miles, are you still coming? Don't tell me you're flaking on me for that girl," you typed in a text message. But to your surprise, a red exclamation mark appeared next to it. Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and tried again, only to receive the same result.

You decided to call him instead. Holding the phone to your ear, you muttered, "This nigga got me fucked up." But instead of hearing his voice, you were met with an automated response. Your eyebrows furrowed even deeper, frustration slowly turning into anger, as you dialed his number again, only to hear the same automated message mocking you.

"He fucking blocked me?" you said out loud, a mixture of shock and heartbreak washing over you. You felt your heart shatter into a million pieces, tears welling up in your eyes. How could he do this? He said he loved you, so why would he just block you without any explanation?

Feeling the weight of betrayal, you tossed your phone to the side and covered your mouth in disbelief.

A million thoughts of why and what did you do swirled in your mind. You crawled into bed crying yourself to sleep, and that was your reality for a week. Dragging yourself out of bed to class and back, sleeping to get yourself to stop the constant crying you did.

Saturday night again, exactly one week after Miles ghosted you. Your phone pinged, and you felt your heart quicken, a sliver of hope that it was him who came to apologize, say something happened to his phone. But it wasn't. It was your friend Nia who texted you to FaceTime her. Reluctantly, you picked up the call.

"Hello?" you said, hearing loud blaring music and seeing her face halfway in the screen.

"Y/n, where were you, girl?" she screamed into the phone.

You chuckled a bit, the first in a week. "I'm in bed."

"You in bed? Girl, get yo ass up, it's so many niggas outside."

You laughed at her antics. "Girl, you're crazy."

Nia's voice softened, concern evident in her eyes. "I know you've been hurting, Y/n. But you can't let this keep you down. You deserve better, and you need to realize that."

You sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. "I know, Nia. It's just hard, you know?"

"They're having a kickback, I'll text you the address and you better show up." You rolled your eyes, knowing that you had no choice but to come now. With a sigh, you rolled out of bed and freshened up, then dressed yourself and made your way out the door to the party.

The music from the party could be heard a block away, and as you got closer, you could tell that the party was packed by the way people lingered outside. Pushing your way through the crowd, you made your way inside, scanning the room for Nia and your other friends in the distance.

"Ayeee!" you exclaimed, approaching them with a little bop to the music that blasted through the speakers. "Omg, you look sooo good, girl," Nia said, giving you a hug, followed by your other friends.

The night progressed, and you were having fun. The few drinks you had loosened you up, and you had totally forgotten the despair you were in just a few hours earlier. That was before you heard a voice in your ear. The last voice you wanted to hear, but one you were oh so weak for.

You spun around, and there stood Miles, his pretty smile on display. "Hey mamita, you're looking as pretty as always," he said, his voice dripping with charm.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, time stood still. You knew you shouldn't be swept away by his words, but his presence was intoxicating. The memories of past encounters flooded your mind, the passion, and the pain.

Trying to compose yourself, you replied, "Hey, Miles,"

You rolled your eyes at him, ready to walk away, but he caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through your veins, and you couldn't help but feel a flicker of longing deep within you.

"Don't be like that, ma. I miss you," he pleaded, pulling you close, eliminating the space between you two. His voice tugged at your heartstrings, making it harder to resist him.

You looked up at him, your self-control wavering. He could see the battle raging within you, the fight diminishing, and that turned him on even more than he could have imagined. He knew he was pushing your boundaries.

"Whatever, Miles," you said, trying not to give in to him. You remembered how he had cut you off, how he had made you cry, and a switch flipped in your brain. If he wanted to play, then let's play, you thought to yourself, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

"Come," you said, grabbing Miles' hand, leading him to an empty room. The anticipation hung in the air, thick with both uncertainty and excitement. This was a dangerous game, but you were ready to take the risk.

You straddled him, your bodies intertwined, as you buried his lips into your neck, distracting him from the true purpose of your actions. Little did he know, you had a secret plan in motion. You had begun recording capturing every word and sound between you two.

"I love you so much, Y/n," he whispered, his words causing your smile to grow even wider.

Your revenge was going to be sweet.

You ended the recording and abruptly got off his lap. "I gotta go, Miles," you said, leaving him dumbfounded in the room. With a sense of satisfaction, you found your friends and told them that you were heading home.

Once back in the comfort of your own room, you flopped onto your bed and opened your phone. It was time to unveil the truth on Instagram, the perfect platform to embarrass him like he did you. You posted the video on your story, accompanied by a caption that tagged Miles' girlfriend and asked, "This your man?"

Within minutes, your phone became filled with notifications and messages from people who had viewed your shocking story. The reaction you craved the most came from Miles himself. He blew up your phone with a series of angry text messages, which you chose to ignore, relishing in his frustration. And then, as if to add salt to his wounds, he called.

Unable to contain your amusement, you picked up the phone, laughing hysterically. "You think that shit's funny, huh?" he yelled from the other side of the line. "Hilarious," you replied, savoring the taste of revenge before hanging up and blocking his number.

🏷️ @noneofyabuisnezs @zaddyskye69 @neteyamsz @evermorewest @writerze @curly @bigbadjelly @xoomiez @ccrazyinluv @aqxllo @sleepyghoster @onlyloaksgf @ohsoprada @han-sirentell @ellerihs @acezeyez z @ashanomly @namjoonsloveforpop @lovemyself-persona @planetspiderzz @xylianasblog @laylasbunbunny

If you weren’t tagged sorry 🥲

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altraviolet · 5 months

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How do you find a character's 'voice'? I have no problem writing OCs, but when it comes to existing characters I get so anxious that I'm mischaracterizing them!

This is a great question! This is definitely something I struggle with sometimes. Here are some of the things I've done to try to keep characterization consistent:

watched a bunch of videos about characterization and the craft of writing

gone back to the canon and reread parts that featured the character you're trying to write

reduced the character to like, ONE descriptor, ONE "essence," if you will. JRO did a great job making very identifiable characters for us. although many of the initial characterizations are modified by the end of the comic, you can still use that "essence". I'll give an ex in a minute but after you identify that "essence," keep it in mind for your character when you write them

when writing from their POV, or from a close third narration (or heck second person talking to them), remember what the character knows. how did they get to the place they are now? what kinds of details in a room would they notice?

This is not all I've done but it would take me SO LONG to put together more points so we'll move on~!

Okay so for more details on the above:

The Essence Thing

I think Ultra Magnus is a really good example of this. We're introduced to him having a very specific outlook on life (we literally see through his eyes in one early panel, it's great). We understand him to be a VERY strict mech who adheres to the Autobot Law to the letter (semi-colon, actually, lol). We see him meticulously arrange and rearrange objects, we see him point out screws that are misaligned by 0.001% (paraphrase, I don't remember the exact wordage). All in all, it's really easy to understand in just a couple of words who he is. Meticulous to a fault. Rodimus distracts him by using bad grammar on purpose.

By the end of the comics, he's loosened up a little. And (SPOILERS for the end of the comics), Megatron telling him to abandon his armor and be true to himself is something he's receptive to. Whereas in the beginning he wore it as somewhat literal armor. And refused to smile.

So what have I done with my fic? Well, it's important to keep in mind that UM isn't going to change all his ways. He won't be as much of a stickler as before, because he's learned to have friends in some capacity, and that's loosened him up a little tiny bit. But he's going to retain that core trait of being really into keeping things neat and tidy. And, the UM that Megatron told to abandon his armor isn't the one that made the jump. So I assumed they had that convo later in their friendship. The TEG UM still has those organized traits (cuz it's funny), but he's not as bad as he used to be.

So hopefully that makes sense. Boil your character down to a trait or two and keep it in mind for everything.

Oh boy the asks are piling up so I'm gonna try to go a bit faster now.

What The Character Knows

Let's do a little thought experiment. Tailgate and Drift walk into a random Autobot bar. What does each mech notice?

If I said one of them quickly identifies friendly mechs and the other one identifies unfriendly mechs, can you tell which did which? Who notices the energon specials and who takes note of the weapons behind the bar? Which one will remember a time he went with his conjunx to a bar and didn't get in a fight? haha

Okay so you can probably guess the answers that I intended for the above! Drift had a hard past, then became a violent Decepticon. Tailgate was asleep for 6 million years and then woke up and befriended a ton of people and had Movie Nights and also some trauma but he never had to fight for his life like Drift did.

So, as you can see, what the character knows (which is informed by their past, their education, their belief systems, the friends they have, the enemies they have, etc) really impacts how they see the world. And you can use that to your advantage by trying to look through their eyes keeping in mind what they know.

Sorry I'm gonna have to end this here, but this is a great topic. I'll try to write more about character voice and POV in the future. If you want to poke me later about it here or on twitter, please do. I will get my thoughts together and also find the links to the videos I've watched :)

#ask #anonymous #character voice #characterization #writing advice #long post

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bamnamuu · 4 months

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31. with lee know? <3

if your oky with it can i be /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ anon?

w.count 578 | warnings typos mentions leeches | em’s note so so so sorry it took me so long to respond anon :( and of course, you can be /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ anon <3

You two had been driving for what seemed like forever until your boyfriend Minho said something knocking you out of your daydream, '' we’re here babe.’’ you turned to face him, “Don’t jump into any random bodies of water this time okay.” you replied, causing him to start laughing at your request. “No promises babe!” This was an annual trip for the two of you. It all started about five years ago when your friends decided to go out into the wilderness for a camping trip, and you left with a pretty boys number. ever since then you and Lee know decided you would make it a year-round tradition to go to the place where you met. Last year on your 3rd anniversary Minho and you had just finished setting up the tent, both sweating bullets from the hot sun beaming down onto you. ‘’It's so hot I'm gonna die!’’ you said dramatically while your boyfriend went to the car to get you his tiny fan you had made fun of earlier that day, ''thank you’’ you said while reaching out to take it before he moved it away from your reach ''Nuh uh first apologize to my stupid fan’’ he said with air quotes. ''I'm so so so so sorry I called your fan stupid, can i have it now?’’ you said, giving him doe eyes. ''here.’’ he said, giving you the stupid fan and a sweaty kiss on your head. The two of you finished setting up and hiding in the shade till the sun calmed down, having enough of doing nothing lee know reached for your hand saying ''let's go on a hike!’’ groaning as he helped you up, you got your backpack and went on your way. It's customary for Lee know to point out random things he sees on the trail and tell you things about them, without actually knowing anything about wildlife creatures. ''that is a bird that lost its wings in war.’’ he said pointing at a small animal, ''babe, that's a squirrel.’’ you stated ''Agh same thing !’’ he said offended but then started laughing ''ohh that is the fountain of youth’’ he said looking over at a small waterfall, it's pretty to the point that you actually think he's right. ''I was giving you a 1 out of 100 chance of being right, didn't think you’d beat the odds!’’ rolling his eyes ''of course i’m right love, i come here all the time how else do you think i'm so handsome?’’ ''genetics.’’ ''i'll show you right now.’’ you were confused about what he meant by that till you saw him take off his shoes and walk off the trail to the pool of water and leap into it. You held your breath hoping he didn't hit his head on any rocks until he popped out of the water smiling ''aren't i even more handsome now?’’ He said his hair covering his eyes but he heard you laugh so he's taking it as a yes. ''minho there's a leech on you arm!’’ ''WHAT!’’ you were lying but it was funny to watch him freak out, and splash in the water like a cat. On the walk back to the tent you were holding your cold wet boyfriend who was now upset at your attempt at a joke but with a couple kisses and millions of apologies later he forgave you on the condition that you had to drive the entire way home.

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neuroprincess · 8 months

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Holding Her - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: Melissa doesn't usually scare easily, but her daughter, so small and fragile, is the scariest thing she has to face.

Classification: Slight angst, fluff

Warnings: Premature baby, insecurity

Word count: +1400

Unrevised

She's small, much more so compared to her brother who was born equally prematurely, she's fragile and much calmer. When Melissa looks at her, suddenly feels incredibly scared of this little human being. The hands, which she had never considered big or imposing before, seem extraordinary big to hold the baby weighing less than 5 pounds for the first time, right there in the labor room, just after her chaotic arrival into the world. Olivia Ann doesn't cry much, doesn't give much work and sleeps almost all the time, the little body seeming to struggle to breathe, something that makes her heart ache and a strange feeling in the pit of stomach with the sight, as well as the slightest possibility of losing her little girl. If she could, she would breathe and give the life for her, feel the pain and struggle in her place.

"Mel..." Y/N calls her after realizing that she isn't listening, the two are in the same room while the younger finishes feeding the newborn "Do you want to hold her?" and offers after the nurse understands what she means, agreeing.

Having been born prematurely and underweight, the girl was admitted to the ICU almost immediately. The next day mom was released, but she remained in the hospital for three days under observation, intubated to ensure that there were no complications, so that she could breathe properly, being fed by tube in the hope of gaining enough weight and barely able to be held by her parents, only during visits guided by the nurses. It's a painful experience. Melissa is fully aware of how this affects her wife even more, but a selfish part can't help feeling jealous of how she manages to hold the baby. She knows how she should just put out the arms and graciously accept the privilege of finally being able to hold Liv after everything, to feel skin-to-skin with her, as recommended, to talk tenderly to her, to tell her how much she is loved and to stroke the (y/h/c) hair. But she's scared. The tubes are gone and her daughter seems stronger than the day before, skin more flushed, eating naturally, the idea of touching her still scary. What if her hands are too rough and/or strong? It could hurt or make her hate being held by the teacher. What if the perfume bothers her? Or she doesn't even know how to hold it? After all, the first time they left the hospital with a chubby little ball and now they have a little doll that seems to weigh as a feather, fragile as glass.

"I... No... Yes, no, I don't know." she struggles for words and the green eyes water when she notices the confused look on her wife's face, replaced by sadness "Amore mio..."

"I know you're worried, but our little girl is strong and she'll surely love your lap." the other whispered in encouragement, looking at their daughter in her arms, already a little sleepy after feeding.

"It scares me." the redhead confessed with a sigh.

"Holding her?"

"No. She..." their eyes meet and she ponders for a few seconds before explaining "I was so scared when our Liv was born and I held her in that room after I thought we'd lost her, I felt like the world had stopped and she's so small, so fragile, her tiny hands holding my finger. I felt afraid. With the slight possibility of losing her, of losing you, somehow hurting Liv in that one minute that I'm sure I'll remember for the rest of my life. And she's here."

"With us. It was really scary, for both of us, but seeing that she's fighting gave me the strength to keep going. I confess I was scared to hold her too, the experience was like she might break in my arms or the tubes would mess up, a million possibilities ran through my head, well, until I had our little baby in my arms." Y/N settles Olivia in her arms, admiring how different she already looks after a few days of life, with a healthier appearance and her facial features appearing little by little, it's progress "Liv is here, strong, fighting, that's what matters now."

"But..."

"No buts, no excuses. Come here." she points to the armchair she's in, opening up a space for Mel to sit next to her, which she does without contest "Look at our girl. Ten toes, ten fingers, a cute little button nose, just like Luca's when he was born, isn't it?"

She ponders, taking a closer look at the little face, the eyes are the same shape as Y/N's (even if it's her color), they also share the same hair color, the same mouth and ears, but the nose... it's identical to their firstborn's, which he inherited from her. Every day the boy looks more and more like her, a spitting copy. It warmed her heart. And made her a little convinced.

"Yes, she does... And the same feet too."

"The little chubby feet of the Schemmenti." the wife teases.

"Hey, it's a family heirloom, chubby feet and delicious recipes make a Schemmenti." she laughs, feeling some of the tension drain away, then whispers, "And street smartness too."

"That's a fact." both laugh and a comfortable silence hangs in the air, green eyes fixed on their daughter who begins to fall asleep calmly "Honey, do you want to try? I'm here, there's a nurse right over there." she points to the nurse at the door of the room talking to a coworker "It'll be fine. But if you..."

"No, no, I want to try, amore mio." a sudden confidence runs down her spine and almost by instinct she puts out her arms, an apprehensive smile on the lips, a glow in the air and anxiety in her stomach, she could swear she was about to sweat through to hands "I want to hold Liv."

The couple exchange a complicit look, trying to reassure each other, it's kind and understandable. The teacher smiles genuinely this time. When she realizes that this is really happening, the heartbeat increases and the fingertips tingle. Before can have any doubts or think about giving up, she feels the little bundle of joy being placed against her chest, and the arms instinctively wrap around the colorful blanket. The smell of baby reaches her nostrils, slightly sweet and very pleasant, the skin is soft, fine hair adorns the top of head and her eyes open in curiosity, exploring the atmosphere, who is holding her.

"Ciao, cara mia." she whispers to the girl, admiring every little feature and movement, she seems to recognize her mom by voice.

"You know, newborns can't see very well, but they recognize voices that they heard in the womb. And you talked to her, told her stories and even sang. She recognizes you." Y/N says with emotion and leans in, giving her wife a chaste kiss "And your voice... well, it's unique."

"I know, that's why you fell in love with me so quickly." Melissa shrugs the shoulders smugly, internally melting with delight that the daughter remembers her and seems to like it, because when Liv hears her again quickly smiles, even though she knows it's just a spasm, it still makes her sigh, thinking it's one of the cutest things she's ever seen in the world "You like my voice, don't you, my principessa?!"

Her wife watches the whole interaction with admiration, never failing to stare at the sweet smile forming cute dimples, knowing that she has chosen the right person to have children with. The redhead is simply so natural with Liv as she is with LuLu, anyone can feel the love in every gesture, word and look, she understands the insecurity she had about holding the baby, but she knew that once they were together there would be no separating the duo. In addition, Olivia always seems calmer in the presence of the other woman than with her, the one who gave birth. They talk for a few more minutes until the newborn falls asleep again. No surprise, considering that babies of this age sleep around 16 hours a day and in a fragmented way.

All said and done, Mel still didn't want to let her go and kept holding her, unable to separate herself from their youngest.

"She still scares you?"

"Yes." she replied, pausing between sentences, looking at Olivia with affection "She scares me how fucking much I love her."

"No swearing around our kids, Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti!"

taglist: @opheliauniverse @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @wastdstime @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @dvrkhcld @heidss @esposadejoyhuerta @xvyzxx @quailbagutte @imaginesmultifandoms @ctrlamira @milffilm @taurus-baby-34 @prentiss-theorem @josephinevr @cordyandbilliehavemyheart @grandtacoranchnickel @multifandomlesbianic @serendipitouswanderer @louderfortheback @h-doodles @Hotdoggitydammit @peggy082023

Join my taglist here ^^

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #female reader #imagine #abbot elementary #fanfiction #schemmenti family

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violettduchess · 2 months

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Hello Vi! I have a request for you, only if it inspires

Tutor AU! With one or more of your fave suitors tutoring you for your upcoming exams;

Leonardo, Comte, Gilbert, Leon, Silvio and Clavis!

I'd love to see what you come up with ❤️❤️❤️

A/N: I had a very immediate idea for Comte so I went with him for this request!

Comte x Reader, Tutor AU/ Modern AU

WC: ~1.9k

The library looms large as you hurry up the wide, slate-colored steps under a sky exhaling its last breath of evening color. The stars are slowly blinking into existence, determined to shine before they are hidden behind the slow-moving blanket of clouds heading their way. You would pause to enjoy the ephemeral moment when dusk ebbs into night.....

Except Comte is inside, waiting for you.

You’re still not sure how it’s come to this. Comte as your tutor. Your mind travels back several weeks….

Several weeks ago:

One minute you're balancing an armful of books along with your backpack and several bags of uneven groceries that are seriously testing your stubborn decision to do it all in ONE trip. The next, however, everything is falling onto the polished grey tile floor of your building’s lobby, the objects seeming to leap like lemmings out of your arms. As you stand there, staring defeatedly at the scattered mess, lost in the gravity of your poor decision, the elevator doors you were originally trying to reach slide open and like the pearly gates unveiling an angel, Comte de St Germain steps out, in the process of buttoning his elegant camel-colored coat with one hand.

Before you can say a word, he takes in your forlorn expression, the embarrassing pile of your things at your feet, and he is by your side, kneeling, helping you gather up your stray apples and the mini-boxes of cereal you are probably way too old for but love anyway. Your cheeks flush as you stammer a thank you.

You know him more by reputation than actual acquaintance. He lives in the sprawling penthouse at the apex of your building, the crowning glory of the gothic structure, and is usually spoken about in whispers and sighs by the other residents:

“Comte? He’s a museum director downtown.”

“I hear he is a world-famous antique dealer who has made millions.”

“He’s gotta be a tech-millionaire with all that dough.”

“Well I know someone who knows someone who swears he’s a member of the royal family of some tiny European country.”

“I don’t care what he does. He’s got to be loaded to live up there.”

“I hear he’s never been married.”

“My cousin’s best friend’s neighbor's babysitter says he’s divorced from someone super famous.”

“You know what he is? I'll tell ya. Drop dead gorgeous.”

This mysterious man with eyes the color of desert sands is on the ground in his expensive suit and coat, helping you gather your plebeian things and oh, do you want to melt into the floor and disappear.

Until……

He stops, holding one of the books you had been juggling, a surprised expression crossing his classically beautiful face.

“‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’ by Edward Gibbon. Fourth edition.” He seems impressed, curiosity flaring to life in the mesmerizing gold of his eyes.

And you take that lifeline, words stumbling over themselves across the knot of your tied tongue as you explain you are a graduate student, majoring in history, mentally preparing yourself for the avalanche of final exams heading your way.

And how he smiles, his long fingers tracing the embossed lettering along the spine of your book, borrowed from the local library. Entranced by the movement, you can't look away from his hand, reverence hushing his voice as he explains how he works for a museum (Points to the woman in Apartment 15B for getting that one), how he also studied history.

And then one thing leads to another and your rambling about the stress of your exams and crunch for time has evolved into Comte St. Germain, the mysterious Bruce Wayne of your building, offering to tutor you.

The Present:

And now here you stand, the night of your final session, heart prowling, turning circles in your chest like an unruly feline.

Taking a steadying breath, you continue up the steps and head inside, enjoying the sound of your heeled boots across the polished wooden floor. Past towering shelves filled with books you go until you reach the narrow iron staircase in the back, the one that spirals upwards to the second floor. Your feet follow the path they have gotten used to over the last few weeks, through the racks, down a narrow gangway until you reach the small cluster of tables at the western corner of the library, the ones underneath the imposing arched window that allows you a clear view of the darkening sky and the pale orange glow of the streetlamp across the street.

Comte looks up from the book he has been reading and offers you a smile, at once familiar and exotic.

“Ah, there you are, chérie. Ready for our final session?”

Something inside you constricts at the thought that this is the last time you will be here with him like this, tucked away in the surprising intimacy of a large public library, listening to his honeyed voice as you discuss not only history, but also the mundane: what music he listens to when he goes on long drives, his favorite type of wine, the best tea for a rainy Sunday morning. And it isn't just his speaking….Comte listens. He really listens when you talk, when you ask questions, when you give an opinion. He rests his chin on his hand, head tilted ever so slightly, his entire attention focused on you, whether you are explaining the fine points of one of the many Treaties of Paris or doing your best to convince him that dipping your French fries in your milkshake really does make them taste better.

With the glow of remembrance in your smile, you slide into the seat next to him, running your fingers along the soft grain of the elegant wooden chair as you settle in.

“Ready as I'll ever be,” you say, returning his smile while looking at the array of books he has spread out across the table. “Let’s do this.”

“Oui,” he says as his smile curves into a grin. “Tonight we’re focusing on art for your art history final. You already sent me the list of pieces your professor wants you to know for your exam so we can work our way through those.”

You breathe in, trying not to get distracted by the warm, earthy scent of his cologne.

“Professor Leonardo is great but it’s such a long list….” Your shoulders slump at the thought of tackling everything on it. And then you feel Comte’s hand there, on your forearm, warm even through the soft material of your blouse.

“Then let us begin.”

He spends hours, guiding you through Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Birth of Venus, Las Meninas, and Water Lillies. You wander through the great masters like an enamored visitor in an enchanted garden, listening as Comte helps you to remember what you have learned about the paintings as well as unlocking secrets you have never heard before. He leads you through the design of the Colosseum, the Parthenon, Hagia Sofia, Notre Dame, his voice a golden thread that spins you across the architectural wonders. And now, in your final hour of study, he opens the book of sculptures. You visit Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo. And finally, you come to the last sculpture on your list: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova.

“Ah…” He pulls the book closer, the photograph of the sculpture filling the page. “This….is a masterpiece of….” He glances over at you, brow lifted as he waits for the answer.

“Neoclassicism…but with strong elements of the Romantic, given the subject matter.”

“Bien joué.” The praise falls from his lips softly, slides over you like melting wax, sends a jolt of heat across your skin. He doesn’t seem to notice as he flattens down the pages with both hands, his bright eyes roaming over the image.

“So you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”

You try to remember what Professor Leonardo explained in class when he had introduced the sculpture. “She opened a forbidden jar and was put to sleep as punishment?”

Comte nods. “Venus forbid Psyche from opening the jar. It supposedly held Divine Beauty. Psyche could not resist temptation and instead of beauty, she was overcome by the Sleep of Innermost Darkness.” He grins slowly. “Very dramatic. Cupid sees his lover unconscious and pricks her with an arrow, awakening her. This sculpture captures that moment.”

Outside the library window, the streetlamp glows a soft orange. A light rain is now falling, making the light seem as if it is dancing, shimmering against the night.

“Just look at the lines,” he murmurs. He takes his index finger and slowly begins tracing the line of Psyche’s body. It follows the curve of her torso as she stretches up towards Cupid. “Her arms reach back for him.”

You lean in, closer to Comte, watching the path his finger makes along the glossy page. Your heart is suddenly hammering a woodpecker’s song against your breastbone.

“Her hands are in her lover’s hair, the gesture so familiar, so loving.” He traces down the line of Psyche's neck. “And here….she is bent back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, tilting to look up into his face. What do you see there?”

His voice winds itself around you, wrapping you in golden vines of warmth and want. You need a moment to find your own. When you do, it is only capable of expressing itself in a breathless whisper.

“Tenderness. Joy.”

He nods slowly, trailing his finger down Cupid’s strong arm. “And what do you see in him?”

Your thoughts are bright butterflies, sparks that fly up into the haze of your mind and explode in little pinpricks of light. Blinking, trying to control the overwhelming wave of attraction that threatens to pull you under, you reach out and touch the same page, your fingers scant centimeters from his.

“He’s…..adoring. The way he holds her head, his fingers touching her face. And he’s smiling at her, affectionately. Openly.” Your gaze drops down to where Comte’s finger points to Cupid’s left arm. You clear your throat and continue. “He covers her breasts with his arm, shielding her from the viewer, and yet that one hand holds her in a way that’s….it’s so intimate. It feels somehow more intimate than if we would see her bare.” Your voice is a whisper, soft and woven through with delicate wisps of yearning. “He touches her as if he’s done it a hundred times and still revels in it…..” You trail off, pressing your lips together, unable to go on.

Comte’s fingers brush against yours and you turn your head, startled to find that your faces are so very close. Outside the rain gently rolls down the massive glass window. The streetlamp flickers. Comte’s gaze is a steady golden sun.

“He adores her,” he murmurs, his voice rolling through you. You feel his fingers move, covering yours on the page.

“She marvels at him,” you answer quietly, your fingers curling around his in response.

He leans down ever so slightly, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “He dreams of her……”

“.....and he is what makes her waking sublime…” The words are hardly more than the breaths between heartbeats.

His mouth brushes faintly against yours, the softest touch, a silken feather, a velvet caress.

“....He wants nothing more…..” His hand tightens around yours, his chest rising and falling with the contained power of his emotion. “...than to kiss her….”

“He should,” you say, soft as a nightingale welcoming a summer evening. "He should kiss her."

And he does, pressing his lips against yours as the wave that has been looming ever closer pours down upon you both. One hand rises, gripping the nape of your neck with tender ardor. You plunge your free hand into the soft wilderness of his tawny hair, opening your mouth to taste him.

Your other hand? It is still tightly holding onto his, a promise you won’t let go.

An echo of Cupid and his beloved Psyche.

Pysche Revived by Cupid's Kiss- Antonio Canova, 1793

Tagging: @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @aria-chikage @redheadkittys @tele86 @dear-mrs-otome @olivermorningstar @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @nightfoxqueen @myonlyjknight @ikesimpleton @ikemenlibrary @namine-somebodies-nobody @cellophanediamond @whatever-fanfics @justpeachyteastea @chirp-a-chirp @got7igot7family @kookie-my-little-sunshine @mastering-procrastinating @portrait-ninja @fang-and-feather @bubblexly @kiki-tties

#ikemen series #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp comte #comte de saint germain #ikemen comte #comte x reader #tutor au #modern au #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

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bandgie · 8 months

Text

An Uncertified Doctor

Alucard!smut x fem!reader, my man doesn't get enough attention :(((

synopsis: After an argument with your father about the nightly attacks and his reckless behavior, you find yourself in face with a demon who wants nothing more than to cause you pain. The curse you're given is brutal, needy, and utterly horrid. It's not until a man by the name of Alucard saves you, but at the cost of what's left of your dignity.

content warnings: blood, demons, corpses, drugging, cursed reader, fingering, it get super sticky here, blood, medicine play????, restraints, PIV, some light body mutilation (reader gets slashed across the arm), pullout method (USE PROTECTION PLEASE), oneshot

word count: 7.2k (went a little crzy)

Prologue ~

The children held each other as your mother continued telling stories of monsters. You had heard these a million times, your tiny fingers finding the prickly grass beneath you much more interesting. It was scary the first time you were warned of the beast in the castle, it's thirst for blood. You had cried, much like how the other children cried right now. Begged your mom to not let this monster get you, kill you.

"No!" one of the children cried, making you stop pulling on the grass. "I don't want the monster to drink my blood!" More children started protesting against their invisible enemy, crying and screaming. You turned to your mother, seeing her hide back a smile.

"And it won't get you," she promised, her voice gentle. "You must stay within the village, never venturing too far. And you also must listen to your parents. This monster loves eating naughty children."

That's how you knew this story was meant to scare children into listen to their parents. It become obvious when you did something wrong or bad, they would threaten you with the same blood-sucking demon. Do you want to go to his castle?! Your dad had yelled. I'll drag you there and he'll keep you instead!

The other children began making promises of being good, submissive to their parents. You had a frown on your face, perhaps you were the odd one out. You had a bad habit of not listening to authority, taking things into your own hands. A small part of you thought these stories were made up for you, to make you listen.

It didn't take long for the children's parents to arrive, picking up their terrified children. You watched as your mom went to the parents, most likely to explain why they were so upset. You stood on your tiny legs, walking to eat the remaining snacks that were left over from the school session.

"Ah, sweetie you can't eat too much. Save some room for supper," your mom said behind you. You only laughed though, shoving the remaining goodies into your mouth as you ran. Your mom chased you, bursts of giggles escaping your lips as you let your stubby legs take you as far as they could go.

You squealed when she grabbed you, pulling you up in the air. "No fair!" you screamed. "You're bigger than me!" Your mom only laughed and held you in her arms. You secretly wiped your dirty hands on her shirt, but it was far too obvious to go unnoticed.

She let out an irritated groan and yelled your name, "You know better. Do you want to monster to come get you?" Your giggles quickly died down, your mood turning sour. You huffed and crossed your arms, looking away from your mother, "Monsters are not real! That doesn't scare me."

She tsked at you, setting you down on the grass gently. "Love," her voice was serious, in a way that made you stop your attitude and listen intently. "Monsters are more than demons from the underworld. There are monsters here, on the very dirt you and I walk on. They will hurt you and take you from your family if you wonder too far., if you keep disobeying your family. Do you understand?"

Your small body trembled at her seriousness. Despite being at a young age, you knew that not all people were nice. "Bad men," you whispered, eyes wide. Your mom nodded, seeming satisfied with your answer. "Yes," she said. "Bad men."

She picked you back up and took you inside your small house, your dad already setting up the table for dinner. It stuck with you though, her words, your genuine fear. Even after you had grown, after real, hell-born demons began walking the Earth after the wrongful death of Dracula's wife...

The real demons were human.

Present ~

Your village was in shambles, buildings were half torn down, the smell of death and rotting bodies was pungent, blood painted the ground and walls. Still, your dad tried to make a defense team. A group of men that would fight back against the demons, losing most of the time. You know this was in vain, no mere man could win against a devil's spawn. Your dad was determined however, especially after your mothers death.

You hated how injured he was when he came back home, blood dripping at an alarming rate as you tried to patch him up. Resources was another issue the village, it was depleting. You had to settle for using an old cloth to bandage his wounds, ignoring how your dad said to save any clothes for the upcoming winter.

You sat him on the chair, wrapping the cloth around his arm when tears started to prick your eyes. You sniffed, trying to ignoring the way you wanted to yell at him to stop, to stay safe. You and him had argued about this for months, both of you too stubborn to see the other side.

Still, you cried. Sobbed as you tightened the 'bandage.' Your dad frowned when he saw your tears, using his good hand to wipe them away. "Why are you crying?" You scoffed at his question, anger replacing your sadness.

"Why am I crying?" Your voice is clipped, almost aggressive. "Look at yourself! Your putting yourself in danger, your putting all those men with you in danger! You're going to get yourself killed out there! Do you not give a shit about if you die?"

"Do not speak to me with that tone. Do not curse at me," your father rose he spoke, an attempt to establish the power he has. Before you would have listened, apologize for stepping out of line. Now however, there's nothing to lose. There's not much joy in this house, your dad turned destructive after seeing your moms cold body. Her death changed both of you.

"I will do what I please!" You yelled, standing on your tippy toes to be the same height. "You do! Going out there in a suicide attempt. You don't give a fuck about anything anymore! Not yourself, not this house, not me! I'm your daughter! You're supposed to protect me. You're supposed to stay with me, not those damned beasts!"

You voice was strong, thick with emotion. Tears spilled down your face, hands trembling as you spoke. Your dad was growing angry, you could see how his face turned red and eyes grew dark. "I am protecting you," he argued. "After this village is rid of Dracula's demons, we will-"

You laughed bitterly, interrupting his sentence. "There is no end to this hell," your voice was calmer now, still laced with venom. "I'm not a stupid little girl anymore. It's clear to see that God has abandoned us, there is no way to rid of Dracula's beasts."

Your dad breathed deeply, stepping away from you in an attempt to clam down. You stayed silent as he collect his composure, his thoughts. "Do not speak about the Father is such a way," he warned. "This is a test, a way for the Messiah to see if we really are worthy of walking through heaven's gates."

The church? Your dad has the nerve to preach the church's message when they're the ones that put you in this mess? "You are a fool," you spit, ignoring how your dad balled his fists. "The priests are the ones that caused this havoc. They are the reason mother died."

"Do not!" Your dad yelled, screamed. No matter how upset he got, he never yelled. Sure he raised his voice, but shouted? Never. You jumped, taking a step back as he approached your form. You lowered your head down, shame fogging your thoughts. You went too far.

"Don't you dare speak her name on your mouth. You disgrace me by using her death as an excuse for your temper." Your weeps resumed, looking at the darkness in your dad's eyes. An excuse? You would never. If anything, he was the one using her death to act reckless. You can't keep being in this house, surrounded by the memories of your happy family, what your life was.

What it will never be again.

You pushed him hard, shoving him onto the ground as you ran out of house. He screamed your name, shouting at you to come back. You ignored him, you ignored the bodies you passed, the violent sobs that wrecked you. It's too much to stay here, to endure all the emotional turmoil you have to go though.

So you ran, barefoot. You feet grew wet with the mud and blood mixed. You ran through the gates that kept your village somewhat protecting, ignoring the men on guard that yelled at you. You ran until you couldn't hear them shouting, you ran until the village was nothing but a blurry image in the distance. The grass was soothing under your feet, wiping away some of the wet essence on there. You clutched at your chest, heaving.

Your chest burned, your feet ached, your mouth craved water. You kept pushing forward until you saw a stream. No longer able to keep yourself up, you collapsed, crawling to the water until you were submerged in it. You bathed, drank, and nearly drowned in the stream. Your clothes were drenched, but that didn't matter. They would dry, like your tears.

It had been so long when you had last bathed properly, when you drank clean water. Your dad was coming back home with filtered water, mud still seen in the cups. But this water was clear, it was so easy to see the fish that swam within it. You laid in the water, letting it engulf you with just your head peeking up.

You will have to make your way back home soon, you can't be exposed in the wilderness like that. Demons did not rest, they were active at all times. It's a wonder how you didn't notice any on your way here. The thought of going back home however, was dreadful. You couldn't face your dad, you can't keep pretending like everything is fine and he will be safe. Something needs to change, but what?

You sat up, head thinking of ideas. Prayers do not work like your village had thought. Holy water however, was the real savior. Smaller demons would bursts into flames, bigger ones would be severely wounded. If only the priests at your village weren't cowards, hiding in their sanctuary.

While you were deep in thought, you didn't notice a demon perched on a nearby tree. It watched as you as you stood, water dripping from your clothes. Demons were not dumb creatures, though same acted without thought. They had some intelligence, the ability to plan and strategize. This demon was quite intelligent unfortunately for you, salvia dripping down its lips. It craved to tear your flesh, to drink you screams and break your soft bones. It had a bad habit of playing with it's food.

You walked out of the water, squeezing the parts of your loose dress at the bottom. It wasn't until you heard the soft thud that you looked up, skin prickling in fear as your eyes scanned for an enemy. Then you saw it, a man. He had purplish hair, skin deathly pale, eyes red as blood. You knew his human stature was a way to lure you in, to trust him. This 'man' was a demon.

"Stay back!" you cried, arms out in front of you to keep a distance. "Go back to where your came from, demon!" Your voice shook, eyes watering in fear. It laughed at you, stalking closer.

"That's not very nice," it says, smiling. "I feel hurt by your words, come comfort me." It opens its arms as if it expects a hug, you make a disgusted face.

"Fuck off!" You shout before you run, not caring what direction you're going it. It laughs again, mouth puling back to reveal absurdly sharp teeth. It chased you, letting you tire out before you slowed. It would be easy to take you somewhat compliant.

It tackled you on the ground, rolling on the grass until you were dizzy. It laid on top of you, red eyes sparking in excitement.

"Vermin!" You screeched, arms and legs kicking. "You evil fuck! Get off me!" It caught your violent attempts, easily using one of its hands to hold both of your own above your head. It's weight heavily settled on your stomach, giving you legs no access to kick freely at him.

"I'll kill you!" You threat, knowing how impossible that is. This makes the demon laugh uncontrollably, just for a moment forgetting it's sinful desire to defile you. It used its free hand to wipe a joyous tear, shaking its head.

"Quite the jester are you!" it says excitedly. "You will be fun, but refrain from calling me such cruel names. I am Magnus." You spit in its face, not caring how some of the salvia drips down on you.

"I don't give a shit what you are called, demon," you speak maliciously. "I have to respect for monsters like yourself." It frowns then, wiping the slobber off its cheek and sighing.

"You know, I thought I would enjoy touching your body. Seeing you submit to me in the vilest way possible. However, I think I should just kill you. Painfully," Magnus almost looks sad as he speaks. He sounds as if he didn't really want to hurt you, but you can see the disgusting smile on his face.

Magnus uses his free hand to grab you face, making your lips pucker and shape and 'o' form. Before you have the chance to protest or scream, he spits. You think it's way to get revenge for spitting at him earlier, but he perfectly aimed for the inside of you mouth. On instinct, you swallow. You grimace at the thought, the way is slide down your throat, how sweet it tasted.

You've heard of this. Demons that take advantage of women in the night, ripping their bodies once they're done. Survivors had told stories of the drool. The way the demons saliva was able to make the women crazed with need, make the obedient. You shuddered, you knew his kind. An incubus.

You hated how hot your body got, the desire that pooled in your stomach. Your body was still soaked in water, but you can feel your folds begin dripping in arousal. You shook your head and cried, whimpering at how you body was betraying your throats. You were all to aware of his skin on yours, his body weight pressing down on you. You craved for something to be in the deepest parts you, places you had never bothered touching after the world went to shit.

Magnus smiled as he watched you pant, eyes going wild with hunger. He was not going to give you pleasure, instead he was shred the skin off your meat, make you watch he stuffed his face of your tender muscles. You would only moan he hurt you, your brain would be too far gone to know the difference between pain and pleasure.

Your cunt though, he would not touch that at all. You would soon beg, not caring if he actually devoured your pussy. You would be craving just for someone to touch you there, to penetrate deep inside you. Magnus's fingernails sharpened, dipping his hand to your arms as he sliced the skin. You cried out, blood welting at the wound. He leaned down and licked, moaning at your taste.

"Someone's not a virgin," he muttered. Magnus thought for a moment. He was planning on taking your innocence, but now he's thinking of just fucking you cruelly. That would go against his point of torturing you, he wanted to deny you pleasure in any way possible in the most horrible way.

He sighed, torn between the two options. It was tempting, so tempting to cup your mound, take what little dignity you have left of yourself. Magnus watched as your face contorted in discomfort, fighting the aphrodisiac saliva that traveled in your throat and gut. He wanted to see it twist is pleasure, then rip it from you. Have you crumbling and breaking under him, begging him to stop while secretly wishing he wouldn't.

Before Magnus could choose, you cried out, hot tears falling down your face as you couldn't stop yourself from moaning. "Kill me," you croaked. He was used to this, it wasn't often, but some maidens would beg to be killed before fucked. "Just kill me already," you continued to weep.

The demon smiled, happy with your reactions and sorrow. "No, I quite like it when you beg."

Just as Magnus was going to slice the skin of your stomach with his nails, a large dog appeared, quickly knocking him down to the ground. Your body was released from the demons body weight, you cried in relief and distraught. It took so much strength to sit up, to ignore the aching in your body from running and the demon's drug.

Your unfocused eyes caught a glimpse of a white wolf and Magnus fighting. You groaned as you tried to stand, willing you legs to bend so you could place your weight on them. You were on your hands on knees, feeling disgusted at the drool that seeped down your legs.

You could hear them yelling, Magnus was talking to the animal like it could understand him. You wobbly stood, stop slightly hunched over as you trudged away from the fight.

Left... right... left... right... You walked slowly, trying to build the strength to continue. You should not have yelled at your dad, cursed him and his beliefs. The last thing you will have ever done with him is fight. Tears pricked your eyes again, the burning passion in your body was no match for the pain in your heart. If it's not Magnus that will kill you, it will be the wolf.

The ground rumbled, shaking so violently you feel to your knees. You yelled in frustration, it took so much just to stand. You can't possibly do it again, not when the loud sounds of punches and the pounding of your head rings. Not when your body violently shakes with need, with desire. You hate it, how you go limp on the ground. How your shaky hands find their way between your legs.

You needed something to soothe the ache. It was unbearable, it was inhumane. You placed your hand over your clothes cunt, moaning touch. You're disgusting, you're vile. You're succumbing to the demons liquid, his drug. It's not enough though, not with how tired your entire body is. You wanted more, no, you need more. Your eyes start to close, body shutting down from the deathly arousal your experiencing.

You miss how the white wolf managed to rid Magnus, having him flee from both of you. It moved to you, shape-shifting as it did. There stood a tall man, long limbs with blonde hair that reached his torso. He carefully picked you up, ignoring the lewd sounds you made when he touched you. You were unconscious, but your body was acting as if it was awake. Your sleepy hands gripped, grabbed, and clutched his body, trying to get closer to him.

The man let out an irritated sigh, eyes closing before he walked with you in his arms. He was dreading the thought of dealing with you and the aphrodisiac, but he took you nonetheless.

"This will be such a hassle," he mutters.

Three days. You have been in excruciating pain for three days and who knows how more to go. You were informed by the blonde man who saved you, Alucard, that you were cursed. It was a common one succumbi and incubi used for their victims. It was supposed to drive the person insane with need for an undetermined amount of time. It was painful not being touched, and painful being touched. Essentially, you had to choice to die in heat or be fucked to death.

Alucard was working on a potion, a reversal one that would undo what had been done to you by Magnus. He left you alone most of the time, bringing you food and water that you would nearly vomit. Both of you were beginning a routine; him bringing you food, you telling him that only food you need is dick, him forcing the food down you mouth, and you cumming whenever he grabbed your face to force your lips open.

You were beyond mortified when you had creamed your pants from a mere touch of his hand, but he didn't even mention it. By now, he was used to your howls of need, of pain. The way you voice echoed throughout his castle was a constant reminder of the pain you were in. Alucard treated you more like a cat in heat than a cursed human.

Even if it weren't for the curse, you would still want Alucard to stay besides you. It was so lonely to be in a room, chained to the bed (something he had to do for his and your protection). There was no one to talk to, no one to keep you company during this time, nothing to look at.

Alone.

You tiredly fight against your chained hands, your chained legs. Sweat and tears drip down your face, and you could feel the nonstop wetness dripping onto the bed from between your thighs. You haven't touched yourself once since being here. Though you've came, without meaning to, it's still not enough. There's nothing for your pussy to clamp down on, nothing that you could rub between your thighs.

Instead you just lie there, sobbing and cursing at yourself, and Magnus, at leaving your village. None of this would have happened had you stay there. You would have been with company, with human contact, with the only family you have left. More tears slip down your face, and you know it's not just from painful arousal.

Your thoughts are stopped by the door opening, revealing Alucard who has a tray in his hand. You lift your head up to peer at him, taking in his slender frame, long fingers, gentle eyes, and unblemished skin. Just like that, your saddened thoughts are replaced by the familiar need for sex.

You force your head back down onto the bed, biting your lower lip. You're on the verge of begging him to fuck you, though you know he won't. It's futile to even consider, but the skin on your lip still breaks from staying silent. You close your eyes when you hear his footsteps getting closer, you won't be able to stand it if you see him.

"The potion in done," his voice is gentle besides you. This time you snap you eyes open, head turning to his direction. Your eyes land on the tray that has not only food, but a clear glass. It's swirling with green and blue, some gold flecks fluttering around. You left out a sigh of relief, but it comes out like a moan.

Without thinking, you reach for the bottle. You're quickly restricted by the chains, and you yell from frustration. "Fuck Alucard! Just give it to me." You know you're being rude, and it's the last thing you should be to the man helping you. Still, you're not sure if you're asking for the potion or something else.

He set the tray down on a nearby nightstand, grabbing the glass and looking at you wearily. "It's been days since you've been cursed. You could drink it now, but it would take a few more days for the symptoms to clear," Alucard trails off like there's something else, and truthfully you don't have the patience to keep waiting.

"It's possible to also make the symptoms clear up quickly, just within a few hours. However-"

You trash around the bed impatiently. "I don't care! Heal me quickly. I'm not sure I can take much longer." The smell of him has you keening, drooling at the scent. It's the most he's talked to you, and you're clenching around nothing just at his voice. You fear of what you'll do if you have to withstand this feeling any further, death is seeming like a much better alternative.

Alucard's fingers grip the glass a little more harder, and without a word, he sits at the edge of the bed. The dip of his weight makes you anxious, horny, needy. You pray that he quickly gets on with whatever he has to do, but you also wish he can take you. Your body starts shaking in anticipation. This man hasn't even touched you, yet his mere presence makes you vibrate with arousal.

You watch as his hands ghost over your thighs where your dress ends. Your breath hitches, and you nearly cry when he lifts up the dress. He bunches it at your waist, and when his knuckles graze your flesh, you cum. A sob wrecks your body, and your hips left off the bed. You feel so embarrassed, so disgusted with yourself, yet you can't stop the hot pleasure that raked through your body.

Alucard waits until you flop back down into the bed, heavy breathing. Though he's killed demons and his own father, he's never experienced someone with such a curse. You're tempting to him, your soft skin and pleading eyes. The noises you make are so pretty to him, but he knows better than to think anything else.

He's reserved, tucked away in a castle that teleports at will. He doesn't bother with much companionship, let alone a night with a woman. After what happened last time, he swore to stay away from helping people unless necessary. Humans are deceiving, selfish, and everything his father feared. Still, he has a heart, he had a human mother. There is evil in humans yes, but there is also good.

You don't notice how Alucard's eyes travel your body, how his pants start getting a little tighter around the crotch area. You're so out of it, so desperate, it's nearly impossible to ignore you. It takes unbelievable strength to pull your underwear to the side, more to ignore the way the cloth stick to your pussy. Alucard unconsciously licks his lips.

You moan at the feeling of being exposed, of being looked at. You dare to life your head up, peeking at Alucard who dips his middle finger in the cup to coax it in the liquid. He notices your staring, and looks up. "I promise to do nothing indecent. I just have to insert this inside," he explains.

You only moan in response, opening your legs wider for his access. With gentle movements, Alucard smears his finger all over you clit. You squeal, body quivering from the stimulation. He's applying it like ointment, but what he's doing is anything but doctor-like. Alucard is avoiding your bud, the place where you ache for him to touch the most. You try to maneuver your hips so he could graze it, but he keeps one hand at your hips to keep you still.

Though he's touching you, something you've been praying for since you got to his castle, now it's not enough. You begin begging, pleading with him to touch you. You've lost what decency you had left, opting to succumb to the effects of the curse.

"But I am touching you," Alucard protests. You watch as his lips fight from turning into a smirk. Oh he's into this. Now you finally take in how his tongue keeps licking his lip, how dilated his pupils are, the way his fangs poke out from his -

Wait, fangs?

Surely, you must be hallucinating. Delirious from pleasure that you've began seeing things. You blink a few times, trying to get your eyes right. When you open them, however, they're still there. Your eyes widen in disbelief, in shock. You open your mouth to ask about it, but he slips his finger inside.

You whimper instead, fingers clutching the sheets under you. Your eyes roll back to your head, letting your walls squeeze his finger. You're panting, thoughts of his inhuman teeth forgotten as you finally have something inside you.

"Forgive me if you're a maiden," his voice breaks through your moans. "This is the fastest way to the the results you want. Tell me to stop, I will."

You shake your head so harshly, Alucard worry it might fall off. "No! No," you cry out. "I'm not-fuck! I've had- shiiiiiit," Your mouth fails you. It's impossible to speak now that he's started pumping his finger inside you. It's nothing compared to cock, but it's still long enough to have make you squirm.

"Ahh," Alucard's voice is understanding, "I see." Truthfully, he's glad you're not a virgin. It would have been awkward when you've healed, he can't handle confrontation like that. He gives a few more pumps before he pulls out, a string of your essence still clinging to his finger as if begging to not leave.

"Put it back in!" You sob, fighting against the chains. You're left empty, pussy throbbing like it's also crying. Your teary eyes watch as he dips two fingers into the potion. You almost forgot he was giving you medicine, too distracted with how much your desire pooled for him.

"Please." There's no point in pleading, you know he will give you what you need. Still, the thought of being left here again to endure this pain has you worried. Alucard pulls his fingers out of the glass and rubs the liquid on your clit. This time, he does touch the bundle of nerves. You whimper, head thrown back as you relish in his touch.

Alucard releases his hand from your waist to dip his middle and ring finger into the potion. Now his two fingers on each hand soaked, he moves it to enter your cunt. He watched as you mouth falls open in a loud moan as he pumps and rubs you. You're tightening so much around him, convulsing like he's exorcising a demon.

A quiet groan escaped his mouth when you start fucking yourself on his fingers. With the little free movements you have, you shift your hips upwards and downwards. You don't have much energy, but doing this makes it so that his fingers are able to hit your sweet spots.

Alucard speeds up his movements on rubbing you, feeling your insides spasm around his fingers. You're close again, and your lower half is so sticky from all the combined wetness. You don't bother counting on how many times you've finished from his hands, but in how skilled he is. Alucard's movements are calculated, soft, and gentle. Despite making your pussy squelch and squirt, he does it as elegant as ever.

With another loud moan, you cum on his hand, letting your hips still as you savor your orgasm. Eyes closed, legs stiff, and mouth hanging open, Alucard pulls his finger completely away from your body. You gasp, looking up to see him eyeing your spasming walls. Sure, you might need this 'healing' more than him, but he looks as desperate.

It's not until you see Alucard move to the bottle that you notice it's almost empty. Truthfully, you've began to feel the beginning parts of the working medicine. You can think a little clearer, your head isn't pounding as hard, and your body doesn't ache as painfully with desire. Still, your body craves more. From the curse or from your own yearning, only God knows.

"Wait," you speak up. Alucard halts his movements, fingers just above the cup. "What is it?" He asks, "Are you in pain?" Some of the lust in his eyes was replaced with worry, and you would've melted on the spot had you not had your exposed pussy bared to him.

"No, I'm fine," your voice is reassuring. "Actually, I think it's working." Alucard nods, "It seems so, you can speak in full sentences now." You laugh at his words, a little embarrassed at your previous behavior. You chew on your lower lip, now able to feel some shame from what you want to ask.

"Is it possible to..." you trail off. Your eyes scan your nude legs, his wet fingers, then your eyes land on the tent in his pants. Alucard notices this, blushing at your bold vision. "To what?" He pushes. Even if you're being very direct with your eyes, he still needs that verbal confirmation.

You think on how to word it properly so that you don't further humiliate yourself. Then you think, fuck it. "You have already seen my womanhood and felt it yourself. What's the harm in using your cock to apply the serum?" There, you asked him. You let out an exhale, surprised at yourself with your own bluntness.

His eyes widen, then he scans your body. You're tied, chained to the bed. You can't do him any harm even if you wished to, plus you did not seem skilled in hunting demons or anything of the sort. Alucard weighs the pros and cons in his head before coming to a conclusion. "I suppose you're right, there is no difference at this point."

Alcuard stands off the bed, and you watch in anticipation as he rids himself of his pants. Wet hands untie the knot, gently dragging the material down his thighs, calfs, until he hits his ankles. Even in undressing, he is as poise as ever. With nothing underneath, you watch how his dick touches his lower abdomen, the head screaming to the played with.

A hum leaves your lips, legs opening a little wider upon seeing him. Alucard is far too embarrassed to look at you, but you can tell he appreciates your reaction from the red in his face. You yank of the chains enough to have them rattle, forcing him to look up at you. "Rid of these quickly. I think my arms are about to fall off."

You watch as his expression falls a little, a small look of pain crosses his eyes. "I cannot."

You raise an eyebrow, "You cannot?" He nods, confirming your question. "I find it more...comfortable to keep you bind." His tone is set, but the way his eyes meet yours shows his nervousness. You sigh, a little irritated at his request. You click your tongue a few times, thinking. "What about my legs then? Could you unchain them at least?"

He taps his chin thoughtfully, almost forgetting the fact that his dick is still out and proud. "Yes," Alucard comes to a resolution. "Tell me if you feel discomfort." You thank him and watch as he bends over to the bed, easily opening the clamps on your ankles to set you free.

Once your legs are released, you stretch. You feel a few bones pop and groan in satisfaction. Alucard chuckles at you, now finding himself on the bed as he crawls to your hips. Without missing a beat, you reopen your legs. You push your knees up to your chest, letting him adjust in front of you.

Anticipation relights in your chest as you observe him between your legs. Alucard soothingly rubs his hands up and down the back of your thighs, planting kisses on your somewhat sore ankles.

Gentle, you think. You haven't been with a lover in a while, and to be treated so tenderly after so long does something to you. Alucard's sweet, golden eyes meet you. Though you can see the passion and lust in them, you can't help but see fear. It's strange. Why is he one scared when you're the one who's tied? At his will and power literally beneath him, yet it's him who trembles in anxiousness.

"I'm not going to hurt you," you don't know why you say it. Perhaps it's because you want to make him feel better. A part of you regrets even speaking up, but that feeling goes away quickly when he smiles almost shyly at you. "I know," he says. "It's just been a while."

You were going to say that you have also been abstinent, but you moan instead when you feel the head of his cock sliding against your clit. From the previous cum and orgasms, Alucard finds himself humping against you eagerly. He uses his hands to reach down and press his cock harder against you, making sure to apply pressure.

You quiver, eyes locked on his as you hear the slickness of your connecting bodies. Alucard keeps his other hand at the back of you thigh to keep your leg open. His hips move with determination, captivated by your soft flesh.

The curse has not yet fully gone away, so it's not long before you feel the impending build up of yet another orgasm. You're moaning at every thrust Alcuard provides you to let him know that you're close. He watches how his dick glistens from your wetness despite not even being inside you once. Alucard knows it's just the curse effects, but a small part of his hopes it's from his actions.

Just to experiment, Allured dips the head of his cock into your entrance before sliding back out. You clench around emptiness, suddenly eager to cream his cock. "Alucard," his name is magic on your tongue. He doesn't even need to ask what you need nor do you need to say more. You both want it inside.

Alucard groans as he gentle slides his cock in you. There's little to no resistance, and even if there was, you would take only pleasure in the stretch. It's already hard not to when he fills you up so nicely, his girth spreading your lower lips perfectly. You didn't intend to come with his first breach, but you did anyway.

Your body tightens, your warm walls clamping on his dick like you did to his fingers not too long ago. An actual whimper leaves his lips, and you only squeeze him tighter. You can feel yourself pulsing around him, the leaking of your cum down your ass. Surely, you must look exhausted. With a heaving chest, sweaty body, and knotted hair, there must be nothing appealing to your appearance.

Still, Alucard finds beauty in your afterglow. The wet and dry cum spread between your thighs, the way your eyes seem to gloss over every time you finish, truly a sight to behold. It's been so long since he has experienced pleasure to this extent. Alcuard will cherish this moment for as long as he can.

It's why he thrusts into you again, relishing in your overstimulated noises. All you can do, and want to do, is take it. Let Alucard take you as he pleases, as he deserves. He's been so patient, so kind. This is the last he deserves.

Now that both of his hands are on your thighs, you start honing in on his touches. His long hair tickles your legs, even a part of your stomach when he leans down to get a better angle. His fingers dig into your soft flesh, almost possessively. His mouth is open, panting as he fucks into you.

Even in his most primal state, Alucard is still graceful in his movements. You don't think it's possible for any man to look as beautiful as he does in the moment, yet here he is. You unconsciously tug at the restraints at your wrists, desperate to touch him, to kiss him.

His pink, soft lips are all you can look at while Alucard is too distracted with looked at how your cunt eats him up. Now with more confidence, he lifts your legs higher. He pins your thighs to your chest so tightly that it constricts some of your air flow. The current mating press has him close to your face, dick adjusting to the new position.

There's no way you can't not pay attention to his mouth now, his breath on your skin. Alucard is on his feet now, crouched so he could slam into your overstimulated pussy perfectly. He's so deep, so thick that you feel his tip go almost in to your cervix. You cry out, eyes teary as he finally looks up at you.

Alucard looks at you as if he's hurt you, but now he can see the pure lust gaze you have. It's almost as if Alucard had heard your wish to kiss him because the next thing you know, those same lips are pressing down on yours. You moan into his mouth, a sudden burst of pleasure explodes in your stomach.

"Holy shit," you manage to speak. Your legs are spasming insanely, his grip had turned a little harsh just to keep you still. You don't pulling away from his sloppy kiss, you know his thighs must be soaked in your cum.

He is first to break the kiss, letting out a choked laugh before driving into you harder. You didn't even get the chance to come down from your high. Instead, your body moves like a rag doll underneath him from the intense overstimulation. Now you're somewhat thankful for the chains, you have something to grab onto without worry of hurting anyone (besides yourself).

Alucard knows he won't last much longer. Not only is his dick going to explode, but his legs will give out from staying at a squatting position. With loud groans and unfocused eyes, you know he's close. After days of watching your struggle, the desperation for Alucard's touch, he finally gets to soak in all your being.

A part of you wishes that you could do more for him, but the way his face begins to twist in pleasure tells you that he's perfectly happy with how things are now. His hips stutter, your name leaves his lips in aroused chants, and he pulls out.

You gasp at the sudden lost of contact, immediately begging for him to put it back in. Though you have cum an already unknown amount of times on his cock and fingers, you think it's only fair for him to get the same treatment in finishing in your soft pussy no matter how fuck out you are.

He ignores your wails though, he continues stroking himself the completion on your stomach. Wet cum sprouts on your tummy, legs still stuck in the previous position. Though you know you should be grateful for him not cumming inside, you're still thoroughly disappointed. Alucard has the same feeling as you, but he's still gentleman.

You slowly let your legs down, wincing at the soreness and stiffness you're met with. Alucard is quick to help you, gently placing your legs on the bed. You're still breathing heavily, on the brink of passing out when he awkwardly lays besides you. From the way he's panting, he's also just as tired as you.

It takes a while before he's able to speak, turning his head to you. "Are you okay?"

You laugh, also turning to meet his eyes, "Yes, Alucard. I feel great." He hums thoughtfully at your answer, a soft smile on his lips. You want to talk to him more. You want to ask about his castle, how he seems like to be the only one here, where he came from, where he learned to fuck like that.

Despite your curiosity, sleep gets the best of you. And you think this will be the first time you get a good nights rest in years.

a/n: this is my man frfr

taglist: @whatamidoing89, @panda-wolf, @fatgumsbby, @nekohollowsychogoth

#smut #alucard #adrian tepes #castlevania #castlevania netflix #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania alucard #PIV #alucard castlevania #alucard tepes #castlevania smut #demon #wallachia #adrian tepes x reader #Adrian tepes smut #alucard smut #oneshot

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planetdream · 8 months

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Heyy

I don't know if you're taking asks right now so if you aren't, don't need to answer :) I'm here mainly to say I appreciate your writing and I'm a bit biased by.. no, I'm in a Lee Know fever lately and I've seen a lot of thoughts and things about being sub, bratty sub and stuff but I don't think I could be it, since I'm inexperienced lol so I thought of Lino with a flirty s/o on the outside but shy and inexperienced on the inside. She just wants to please him and be good for him but she doesn't know how :(( I wonder how Minho would react to a very subby s/o, who just wants to love him and shower him with love but it's too shy to do it by herself:(((

(again, you don't need to answer if you don't feel alright by anything and no hurries <3)

I don't know if I'll be here often but you can call me anon spring 🌼 :)))

Stay well and healthy 💪

Love you writing , bye bye:)))

hiii <3 hehe thank u sm for sending this!! ur ask rlly inspired me so i wrote something short and sweet and i really hope it's a little similar to what you asked for 🥺

warnings [implied smut + d/s dynamics. shy/inexperienced!reader. possible typos.] 747 words

Minho isn’t used to this. He doesn’t let you notice that, though. You’re on your knees for him, peering up at him with wide, interested eyes, ready for Minho to lead you. It’s not innocence behind your glossy eyes, but rather, inexperience; a hesitation that you’re biting down on, a rising fever of heat within making you want to pounce on Minho—but you don’t. You stay just as you are, hands on your thighs, blinking up at Minho.

“C’mon pretty,” Minho whispers, hand caressing the flesh of your face. “Told you I can’t do anything unless you tell me what you want.”

He pouts, blinking back down at you all prettily. This isn’t the first time in your relationship that you and Minho have been physical—he’s eaten you out and fingered you before—but you want to go further. You want to experience all that Minho has to offer, and more, you want to be able to please Minho. Provide him with a euphoric type of pleasure that he’s never experienced. But you’re stuck, unable to find the courage, let alone, the words to explain to Minho the plethora of thoughts that are running through your head.

He’s careful in his approach to get you to speak. “Baby? What’s in that pretty little head of yours?”

You speak. “I don’t know.” Your thoughts are speaking to you all at once, it’s practically impossible to get anything comprehensible out.

“You don’t know?” Minho frowns—it’s fake, though, behind it rests a smirk—then continues. “Can’t do anything if you don’t know.”

“No,” You stall, trying to search for the best possible way to explain what’s on your mind without embarrassing yourself. Though Minho constantly assures you that you can tell him anything, embarrassing or not. Minho’s brow raises, encouraging you to speak your mind. His hand comes back to your face, thumb stroking beneath your cheekbone; an attempt to soothe you, to clear your mind. “Want to…”

You trail off again. Fear and embarrassment making a home within the pit of your stomach. You know Minho wouldn’t judge you—after all, he did once make an offhand comment about how he’s into some very strange kinks himself—and he might even enjoy what you have to say, indulging in whatever you truly want to do. You’re in safe hands, literally.

You speak again, in a whisper at first, until the volume of your voice rises. “Want to make you feel good… and I want to be good for you. To you.”

Minho’s heart could shatter into a million tiny pieces. To you, vocalizing it all felt equally as awkward as it felt freeing; you’ve never really had to express what you wanted, causing you to pick your words carefully, fearing that you might be perceived differently. However, from Minho’s perspective, you’re a complete angel; unaware of how alluring and enchanting you are. The sweetest words said in what Minho views as the sweetest possible way of saying them. The way you said it, the small dip in your tone—almost as if you were begging him to let you please him—the way your lips curl into a small smile as you try your best not to hide within yourself. All of it drives Minho so crazy that he could devour you. But he holds back. He has to play it safely, for now.

“You’re always good to me. For me. Always making me feel good.” Minho whispers.

“Want to make you feel even better,” You respond, some of your nervousness now behind you.

“And how do you want to do that?” Minho pushes. You are yet to respond though, fingers picking at whatever they can reach, avoiding the burning gaze of his big brown eyes.

Minho persists, taking the lead. “Maybe I’ll let you use your hands,” Minho reaches for your hand, the tips of his fingers pressing against yours before he clasps his hand to yours. “Or maybe you can take me in this pretty little mouth of yours.” Minho’s thumb runs from your top lip, dipping into your mouth where your tongue eagerly swirls around the flesh, wanting to suck him in, before said thumb drops down to your bottom lip.

His eyes trail up from your lips to gaze into your eyes. Minho has the softest chocolate brown eyes but his stare is rather piercing, dominant, like he could force anything out of you if you look into them for too long. “Hmm… Think I want your mouth on me.”

#[💌] ˚｡⋆#💌. — 🌼#✰˚. !! dream.hardhours #☁️ — daydream.skz #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #someone tell me if this is good I think it might be good sorta idk bc I rlly didn't know how 2 end it lmaoooo

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superpowered-dirt · 2 months

Text

i never post on here but i have so much in my head about twd: the ones who live i honestly feel like i might explode.

i know all anyone really wants to talk about from episode 2 is That Part of their reunion (which is fair, don't ask me how many times I rewatched it), but now, the part that keeps playing over and over again in my head is this tiny bit:

and i just need to say, danai and andy are so insanely talented bc this clip?? this clip—short as it is, with not a world of dialogue—says SO much about where our two characters are at.

first, rick. i watch this clip and i think holy shit, yeah, that is a broken man. andy does a masterful job at displaying through his eyes and the way he carries himself the extent of the psychological damage and anguish within rick, not to mention the guilt he carries. you can see the gears turning in his head as he reminds himself how he basically gave up on her. how he gave up on himself. how he told himself that he was done, he was never seeing her again, and let himself fold into the CRM. i think it's safe to say he hates himself for his choice to move on. he's utterly crushed by it. like look at him, he can't even meet her eyes!!

and michonne? she sees it. once the euphoria of I Found You has begun to wear off and she lets herself really take him in, she immediately clocks that this is not the same rick that "died" on the bridge. not the rick that led alexandria. not the rick that got them out of terminus. and definitely not the rick that stood up to the saviors. in fact, the last time she saw this version of him, it was right after the first time they ever lost to negan, and that horrifies her, because if that rick is back, then something truly terrible has happened. the look on her face in the clip says a million things, but most loudly, she's wondering, understandably and devastatingly, "my love, what have they done to you?"

the final clue for her that her rick is gone, at least for now, is their next interaction. since forever, both of their instincts anytime they've been told that something bad is coming their way have been to either hoof it for the safety of their family or stand back to back and dispatch the threat. it's the panic in his voice, the sheer desperation as he pleads with her to stand down instead and hide herself after she suggests they go that tells her she has no idea what he's been through or what she's in for now that she's in the shit with him. and even now, if the trailer for E03 has been any indication, she still fails to grasp the danger they're both in. i know what people online have been saying, but she's not being careless, this is michonne we're talking about, she just doesn't understand how careful she really has to be. and then throw jadis and her bitch ass bowl cut into the mix and suddenly a whole new threat looms over alexandria and the commonwealth that ultimately all comes back on rick too? the guilt he now has to face for not only dragging his wife into his mess, but through jadis, also his daughter and all his friends?? and if he finds out now that he has a son too, then there's even more guilt??????

i could go on for hours but i won't. all i'll say is that we're definitely in for such an emotional ride tomorrow. and really there's no one else i trust more than andy and danai to deliver that for us.

#the ones who live #the walking dead #twd #towl spoilers #i have a lot of feelings about them #and i'm ready for the angst #as long as there's a happy ending #preferably one where everyone survives

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hanniluvi · 5 months

Text

( 📍 ) UGLY CHRISTMAS SWEATERS — BEOMGYU

[ DAY SIX ] of the advent calendar !

( 📍 ) SYNOPSIS . convincing your boyfriend to wear ugly christmas sweaters with you might not be that hard after all..

( ᥫ᭡ ) PAIRING . bf!beomgyu x gn!reader

( 📍 ) GENRE . fluff ~~ WORD COUNT 0.5K+ ( 545 )

( ᥫ᭡ ) WARNINGS . gyu got a little attitude (sassy men) BUT its tolerable .. imo .. other than that, nothing else ?

( 📍 ) NOTE . i heart beomgyu 😊🤍

“You’re telling me that we—no, I’m gonna be wearing that?” Beomgyu gingerly lifts one of the sweaters, holding it as if it were a bag of 2 weeks old garbage. “For our friend’s Christmas party?” The clash of colors and patterns really confused him; it seems like the designer operated on a whim.

"Come on, it’s not even bad! The theme was ugly Christmas sweaters, and I picked out the best onesI think they're cute," you retorted, defending the sweaters you'd ordered weeks ago.

"This is far from cute! Your taste in fashion must be questionable," he scoffs, nonchalantly returning the sweaters to their initial resting place on the chair.

"I've practically styled your entire wardrobe, and you've received so many compliments because of me!" you argue.

"Alright, but your sweater choices are still terrible!" Beomgyu counters.

Ignoring his protests, you insistently hold the sweater in front of him, trying to picture the look despite his puzzled expression.

“Not in a million years will you catch me wearing that,” Beomgyu declares, hands up in protest.

But, you didn’t care whatsoever as your determination knows no bounds. “Stop moving, you're making this harder.”

“What—” he starts, but you're already on a mission, determined to make him at least consider the sweater.

“It does suit you.”

“Thanks for the compliment, but you can't just say that by imagining how I'd look in it!”

“Why don't you try it on?” You extended your hand, catching him off guard. His reaction was too slow, and you ended up tossing it at him. “I'll wait.”

Beomgyu sighed, unfolding the sweater and eyeing it with skepticism. “Fine, but don't get your hopes up.”

As he struggled to put it on, you couldn't help but laugh at the sight. The vibrant colors clashed with his usual style, making it even more amusing.

“Ta-da! Happy now?” Beomgyu struck a pose, a mockingly exaggerated smile on his face.

You chuckled, "Look! It doesn't even look that bad! You can totally pull it off."

Rolling his eyes, Beomgyu played along, "Sure, sure. It looks fantastic on me. Just a bunch of silly trees and tiny elves on this sweater with squiggly lines—seriously, what were you thinking when you added this to the cart?"

You shrugged, unfazed by his words. Beomgyu often exaggerated things, and you were accustomed to it. “I expect you to stick with this—we've got just an hour until the party.”

“But can’t we switch—” His complaining tone faded as you rushed down the stairs with the matching sweater in your hand. Quickly draping it over your white shirt, you settled on the couch in the living room. As you scrolled on your phone to pass the time, you later heard shuffling in the background.

“Ready to go?” you looked up, seeing your boyfriend in the sweater you bought—he hadn’t changed it. You gave him a big smile, rising from your seat.

“Looking good there, Choi.”

“Keep it up and I’ll run up the stairs to change,” he teased, soon linking arms with you as you headed towards the door.

“Honestly, though, I don’t think I look too shabby in this,” he asserted, eliciting a giggle from you.

“What can I say? I have an eye for what works.”

“Maybe you're onto something.”

SEND AN ASK / COMMENT TO BE ADDED!

TXT PERM TAGLIST — @flwoie @haruavrse @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @bubblytaetae @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @wonioml @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @ja4hyvn @thia-aep @vampcharxter @sleepymoon27

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zyonsay · 4 months

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hi z!!

could you please do a lando request??

the reader is afab and they’re pronouns are they/he and maybe he (the reader) is just having a bad day because, first of all they just woke up in a crappy mood because they’re feeling dysphoric (and i know i get cranky like hell when this happens) and then they see hate comments like purposely misgendering the reader in lando’s comment section!!

and then lando both kinda goes off on twitter about it, while comforting reader just talking about how he’s the best boyfriend/partner

(that’s all i have take it from here😭😭)

btw you’re one of the few writers that i know off that do male!readers

OH and i saw how it said to say if the afab/amab is a big thing, so YES him being a afab is a big deal to the story!!

LOVE YOU POOKIE💗💗

Love you, no matter what LN4

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Dysphoria sucks ass

Warnings: Queerphobia, Slurs: Tr@nny/f@g

Now playing: 'Blonde Chaya sped up' by Amaru & Gringo Bamba

AN: Hey there pookie! Thank you so much for this request!! I also get cranky asf when im dysphoric. ok well admittedly, im always cranky . But anyways! I made some teeny tiny changes and i hope that's alright! Love you!

Fun Fact of the day: My biology teacher is a skinwalker

(i'll rage if there isn't a brit shaped present under the tree by the 24th)

A loud, irritated groan left your figure as you fought with nothing in particular. That was a lie. You fought with yourself right now.

The t shirt clung to your figure because of the cold sweat you woke up in and your hair was an absolute mess. The spot next to you on the bed was empty, you knew that your most loved one was probably on a stream.

Scrambling from the bed you passed the long mirror on the bedroom wall; another irritated huff left you. That feeling of being trapped in the wrong body snaked up your leg and pierced you right in your heart. Maybe a cup of hot tea or coffee will cheer you up.

You passed the office, hearing a loud groan from withing, followed by your boyfriend’s voice, explaining how unfair it was for him to get shot ten seconds after joining the game.

The water boiler hummed loudly as you sat on the barstool by the kitchen island, slumped over like a sad little bag of potatoes. You also felt like one. Yet another groan erupted from the office, making you think of something. Quickly fetching your phone from the pockets of your shorts, you opened Whatsapp and sent Lando a quick text. It was almost comical how you could hear him talk to his audience about you.

“My lovely boyfriend just asked if I wanted some tea!”, he giggled like a giddy child. Brits and their tea. He sent you a text back, telling you he’ll be in the kitchen in a few minutes, he just wanted to wrap the stream up.

Then his eyes landed on a username consisting of various numbers and letters. ‘Ew bro, you still dating that f@g? Thought u moved on lolz’ The blood in his veins froze and he felt the anger boiling in the pit of his stomach. Another one popped up, this time from a different viewer. ‘OMG WAIT is it that Tr@nny he once showed lmao, Lan you can do better smh’ And with that a stream of vile words erupted as the strangers on the other side of the screen began vomiting senseless hate. ‘No fucking way. I bet y’all a million bucks that I’d be a less embarrassing wag lol’

What he had missed in this mess of hate comments was that ‘y/n.02’ had joined the stream and saw the hateful words through teary eyes. You clutched your phone with a desperate grip as you sobbed.

“Y’all need to fucking grow up and accept it. I love my boyfriend.” was all he said before swiftly clicking ‘end stream’ and rushing out of the office. He found you with glistening tears streaming down your face and a red, sniffling nose. Immediately, Lando threw his arms around you, pulling you up from the barstool and into a tight hug. “Don’t listen to them darling”, his voice was sweet and almost as quiet as the breath you let out after that. His T shirt was soaked with your tears, but he couldn’t care less. “I love you so fucking much. And nothing can change that. You’re the best damn thing that happened to me.”, his big, gentle hands rubbed your back and traced patterns over your t shirt.

Lando pulled away and looked you intently in the eyes. He closed the distance between you two and embraced you in a sweet, loving kiss.

“Let’s drink some tea baby.”, Brits and their fucking tea.

#I hate men (romantically)#i need him biblically #gay #male reader #f1 x male reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #gn reader #reader insert #x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 fic #f1 imagine #afab reader #ZyonsRequests

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

Under Orders - Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: Dom!Marshall x reader x Dom!August

Summary: The long-awaited weekend with both of your guys has finally arrived...

Word count: 7.6k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, BDSM, D/s dynamic (technically D/s/D), praise kink, bondage, oral sex (f receiving) (m receiving, face fucking), p-in-v sex (unprotected, creampie), anal sex (toys, fingering, p-in-a) (f receiving) (unprotected, anal creampie), double (and technically triple) penetration, slight hurt/comfort, use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, princess, kitten, sweetheart, love and darling), established relationship, extra light dacryphilia, spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, slight humiliation/degradation, slight objectification, bratty behavior, punishment/funishment, Also check-ins, aftercare and some polyam vibes... Tell me if I missed any because... Yeah, it's a lot.

A/N: Alright! You were all promised a weekend with both of your men and oh boy, it's here and it's a LOT. I had a ton of fun writing this. I think we're done now, but I'll keep these guys in mind in case inspiration strikes at some point...

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill @peaches1958 @know1udno @dedicated-to-mr-cavill @7eamfan7asy @ylva-stark @summersong69 @kingliam2019 @mayloma @sloppyzengarden @youve-yeed-yer-last-haw @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @liveoncoffeeandflowersss

You have to get dressed because ‘Marshall is coming over to watch the game', which is bullshit; they just want an excuse to have you sit pretty and get wet for the first part of the night. With a bit of luck – just a teensy little bit – it’ll mean lots of ‘pre-game’ cuddles for you.

The downside: you have to pick something to wear that will rile both of your guys up without making it seem like you dressed up for one or the other – which means your whole wardrobe is entirely useless. It’s a massive luxury problem you’re having, for sure, but it’s still a problem, and it’s still going to need a solution.

August finds you in front of your dresser, surrounded by a few tiny piles of expensive lace. He leans nonchalantly in the doorway, looking at you with one eyebrow raised, and a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” There is a hint of amusement in his voice that makes you want to lunge for his throat – but you don’t. Instead, you decide to go with the truth. Anything else would be a massive mistake, considering the night you’re about to have. So you get up, and fall down on the bed with a sigh, which is enough to prompt August to come over and sit next to you.

“I’m nervous,” you say softly, as if you’re embarrassed. You aren’t – not consciously, anyway. If there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that you love having them both near you, but if any of your hunches regarding the events of this evening are right, you’re in for a wild ride. It’s definitely anxiety-inducing. You can tell August swallows a chuckle when you tell him about your concerns – not because he thinks your fears are funny, but because he thinks they’re silly.

“I promise we’ll keep you safe, darling.” He leans in to kiss you. It’s just a soft peck on your lips, but it really helps settle your nerves. Your voice is stronger, steadier, now that you’re slightly calmer, and you tell him that’s not what you’re worried about, per se.

“What if I can’t do it?” He instantly knows what you’re referring to, of course, and a smile spreads across his face.

“Then it’s not happening. There’s a million other ways for us to enjoy our favorite little toy.” He says it so casually, as if he isn’t comparing you to a lifeless object to be used for his pleasure – well, his and Marshall’s. You hide your face in the duvet as he says it, knowing he can tell you’re turned on by it.

“Do you want me to help you pick something?” He asks when you will yourself out of hiding again, and he seems surprised when you shake your head.

“No, I want you to make a decision for me, Daddy,” you say softly, shifting positions so that your head is in his lap. August thinks about his answer for a moment before apparently deciding he’s willing to help you out.

“Shower, shave, hair, make-up.” Absolutely not a request – and also very clear instructions that are easy to follow, and that’s exactly what you were hoping for. You immediately get off the bed and make your way to the bathroom.

“Oh, and darling,” he says just before you’re out the door, “no red lipstick. It makes you look like such a whore.” You know he’s teasing you – he likes red lipstick on you on occasion, he’s just telling you he prefers something… sweeter for tonight. Still, something inside you feels the desperate need to just disagree.

“But, Daddy,” you say innocently, “what if I want to look like a whore?”

“I don’t think my orders are up for debate, kitten,” he says sternly.

“Pink isn’t going to make me look like any less of a slut when it’s smeared all over my face and your cock.” Your innocent voice has disappeared, and your statement is completed by the most challenging eyes you can conjure up. It takes everything you’ve got to not lose control of that gaze when August gets up and paces to you.

“Darling, Sir may enjoy this attitude, but if you keep this up with me, you won’t be able to sit by the time he gets here.” There’s a large, warm, incredibly distracting hand at the back of your neck, its thumb effortlessly stroking up and down your throat, reaching all the way across it with ease. Before he speaks again, that hand tightens slightly, making you gasp: “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you answer, and the pressure around your throat disappears again.

“Good girl.”

You take your time in the bathroom, and when you’re finally done and ready to come out, August is laying on the bed, reading a book. As soon as he sees you, he puts it away and sits at the edge of the mattress, signaling you to come closer.

He gives you a quick once-over once you’re in front of him – the ultra-light version of a genuine inspection – and nods approvingly. Your eyes widen in anticipation when you see your favorite toy laying on the bed. August pulls you in so you’re standing between his knees, and kisses the naked skin of your stomach softly.

You chuckle as the coarse hair of his mustache tickles you, and he hums softly when he hears it. Suddenly, his hand lands on your ass. It’s a playful smack, but he’s strong, so it still hurts quite a bit.

“Get on the bed, darling,” he says as he taps the mattress. You know he likes to watch you as you prepare yourself for the plug – which has become second nature by now, anyway – and you put on a bit of a show for him.

“Kitten, don’t get in trouble before Marshall even gets here,” August says, laughing at your suddenly somewhat scared expression. “Put that where it belongs and get dressed, my angel.” He gives you a soft kiss and another playfully harsh slap on your ass that leaves your cheek stinging.

You look at the things he’s picked for you. You don’t recognize what he’s laid out, but it’s absolutely perfect. He gives you a quick wink before leaving the bedroom, and you smile. August knows how to spoil his girl – it’s astounding how often new lingerie is part of the program. You quickly do as he asks and make your way downstairs just as Marshall steps through the door.

“Hey,” he says as he gives you a hug. He can’t seem to help himself: his hand lightly squeezes your ass while he hugs you, and you laugh. The skirt you’re wearing is short, so his fingers slip underneath the fabric without really even trying. “How are you feeling?” It can be annoying to have to explain everything twice, but tonight you’re grateful they’re both checking in on you.

“A little nervous,” you admit to him with the same hint of shyness in your voice as when you talked to August. Marshall also reassures you that you’re in good hands. Of course you know that. In fact, you’ve never doubted that for even so much as a second, but that doesn’t make the nerves go away. Marshall studies your face for a moment until he’s satisfied nothing else is wrong.

“Pink,” he says softly as he slowly drags a finger along your bottom lip. “I would have preferred red.” You can hear August chuckle from the kitchen, and you pout at Marshall.

“Daddy said it makes me look like a whore.”

“Did he, now?” Marshall raises his eyebrows. You chuckle at the amused expression on his face. Marshall wraps an arm around you and walks you over to the kitchen, where August is getting a drink. “August, why don’t we want her to look like a whore?” He pulls you in front of him, locking his arms around you from behind firmly: escaping him is impossible. August walks over and grabs your hips below Marshall’s arms. You hum when he steps towards you. It’s a very nice feeling, being sandwiched between your men like this. August thinks for a moment before answering Marshall’s question.

“You know my preferences, Marshall,” he says with a smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You know mine, Walker,” Marshall retorts, making both you and August laugh softly as you exchange glances. The lingerie you’re wearing is definitely more up Marshall’s alley than August’s. Marshall catches on immediately.

“Now I’m very curious to find out what’s underneath this…” This time he slips his hands underneath your skirt on purpose. August reassures him he’ll like it. It doesn’t help his patience, but you tell him to stop, earning yourself an approving look from August while Marshall whines like a kid – it’s really funny.

“Now you won’t let him look?” August teases before he kisses you. When he steps away, you laugh.

“Well, Daddy, Sir, either you two were planning on having me as your halftime show, or you’re not the men I thought you were.” You can tell from the look the guys share that you’re right.

The three of you get comfortable on the couch; August sprawled out on the chaise, your legs entwined with his, while you snuggled into Marshall’s side. Between the plug and the two pairs of hands roaming your body freely, you find yourself squirming all the way through the first half. So much, that Marshall is already losing his patience. Fortunately for you, his arms aren’t long enough to reach to your ass comfortably. Unfortunately for you, they’re both here tonight.

“August, do me a favor,” Marshall growls as he jerks your shoulders around so you’re mostly laying on your stomach, “smack her for me. Can’t stand this squirming.”

August is happy to oblige, and you shriek at the rough impact of his palm on your ass.

“Thanks,” Marshall says before taking another sip of his drink, and August chuckles.

“My pleasure,” he says.

“Not mine,” you growl, “it was his fault!” You point at August and scowl at Marshall, who raises his eyebrows at you.

“Are you blaming Daddy for your squirming, darling? I don’t think that’s fair.” He looks at August. “Do you?”

“I think she can either be a good girl and take this,” August replies, and he softly strokes your leg all the way up your thigh, “or you can be a good girl and take something far more severe.” That’s your cue to scowl at August as well. They both laugh at your reaction and continue touching you until you can’t wait for half-time any longer.

When it finally rolls around, August orders you to stand up and take off your skirt and top. To your surprise, Marshall turns off the TV.

“Aren’t you going to…” You don’t get to finish your question.

“We thought we shouldn’t make you suffer through the second half,” Marshall says. You’re just glad it wasn’t a particularly exciting game. They definitely would have finished watching it if it were. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Men. Incorrigible, as always. Marshall carefully tests the coffee table with his foot.

“How sturdy is that thing?”

“Strong enough to support her weight,” August answers offhandedly, but with a suspiciously sly smile. You flash a more embarrassed one when you remember how you both got that first-hand knowledge.

“Sit,” August gestures to the table, “spread your legs.” You do as you’re asked, immediately. For the first time, Marshall takes a moment to appreciate the underwear you’re in.

It’s not a color August prefers on you – too dark for his tastes – but Marshall seems to love it. Your heart rate quickens as you sit there awaiting further instructions, but you don’t get any. The only thing August says is a reminder that you are their halftime show.

“Or should I tell you what not to do?” Marshall winks as he says it. You smile back at him while you lean back a little and drag a hand from your knee to your thigh. The guys exchange glances and then look back at you, waiting for you to make a move, but you’re frozen. It doesn’t take long before they’re both by your side, asking what’s wrong.

“It’s the nerves,” you sigh, wishing they wouldn’t give you a choice. And it looks like your prayers are answered when Marshall yanks your panties down and sticks them in his back pocket.

“I know you can put on a show for me, love,” he says, reminding you – again – of the last time you were together, “now, if you don’t start playing with that pretty pussy soon, you won’t get to do so at all. And for the love of God, stop squirming.” Your nerves quiet down as soon as you’re told what to do.

“Am I allowed to come, Sir? Daddy?” The guys exchange looks again when you ask and August steps up for this one.

“Sure,” he says, which seems to surprise Marshall.

“Oh?” He raises his eyebrows at August, who pulls his face into a smug grin.

“Yeah, why not?” he says. “Better make them count, though.” Oh, that doesn’t sound good.

“What are you thinking, Walker?”

“I’m thinking five for every orgasm she has,” August says. That’s definitely not good. Or maybe it is, you haven’t decided yet.

“Each side?” August nods in reply, and Marshall considers that for a moment. “Not ten?” He seems vaguely disappointed, but also looks on board with the idea.

“She’s been good,” August answers plainly, and Marshall agrees with him.

It does something to you when they talk about you like you’re not there. Even when they talk about spanking you every time you come. They get back on the couch and look at you as you slowly open your legs again.

You can clearly feel your pulse between them, and you know there’s no way in the world you’re not soaking wet right now. Leaning back on one arm, you raise your feet, putting them on the edge of the table, spreading yourself wider as you run your fingers through your folds.

It’s tempting to just tease a little before giving up, but they’ll never go for that in a million years. They both groan when you bite your lip and look at them. One finger slides into your slick core with ease, and adding a second is no problem, either.

“What’s your problem with the squirming?” August asks Marshall as they’re looking at you. The sudden conversation gives you the same feeling as before, and the urge to please them gets stronger with every move your hands make.

“I’m not sure. Makes me want to tie her down,” Marshall replies to the question. He sounds rather indifferent, but you know he isn’t. Before August introduced you to Marshall, you’d tried some light bondage with him, but it was nothing compared to what Marshall introduced you to. August likes seeing you restrained – Marshall loves tying you up.

“Why don’t you?” The way August says it makes it sounds like an invitation – or you hope it’s an invitation so much that your mind is starting to play tricks on you. Either way; every cell in your body screams with joy at the thought of being tied to the table you’re sitting on. Marshall doesn’t answer, but he gets up from the couch to get something from his bag – and that’s all the confirmation you need.

“Keep touching yourself, darling,” he says to you as he starts securing your ankle to your thigh. You watch Marshall work for only a minute; you know what he looks like when he does this. The concentration on his face, the excitement in his eyes.

You’ll probably get to see it again the next time you spend time with him. What you don’t get to see too often, however, is August as he watches you being tied down to his coffee table by his best friend. His eyes are on you, full of adoration, his breaths are heavy and low growls escape him every few seconds.

The sight alone is enough to bring you to the edge, but watching him reach into his jeans, stroking his cock, getting off on seeing you like this… That’s just too much to handle. You finish hard, and at first you don’t think about the punishment you just earned yourself – until you hear both men laughing.

“That’s five,” August says, looking at Marshall to see if he wants to do something about that immediately.

“She can get them later, I’m not untying her,” is the gruff answer. Marshall secures your other leg, before pushing you onto your back and fixing both of your legs to the coffee table, spreading them as far as is comfortable for you. Since your hands are free, you expect to be asked to continue playing with yourself, but reality has something far more cruel in store for you.

“August,” Marshall asks, a wide grin spreading across his face, “that agreement about the punishment for each orgasm. Does that apply only to the ones she causes herself?”

“I believe I used the words ‘five for every orgasm she has’.” Your eyes are already begging, but you know it’s not going to work.

“Hm. Thought so,” Marshall replies. You don’t like the look in his eyes at all. Before you can decide whether opening your mouth would be brave or stupid – although you should know by now that it’s most definitely very, very stupid – you’re already speaking.

“I thought he was the sadist,” you point at August, who raises an eyebrow in such a way that makes you instantly regret the way you talked about him. And the pointing, you definitely regret that, too. The sting of two sharp smacks on your ass makes you shriek.

“I think it’s best if you don’t talk about Daddy – or me – like that, darling,” Marshall says. Tears sting behind your eyes, still from the impact. He really hit you hard.

“I’m sorry, Sir. Sorry, Daddy,” you say in a small voice. You let your head hang back, over the edge of the table, and just wait.

At first, nothing happens, and the anticipation makes you strain against the ropes that keep your legs in place. Suddenly, rough fingers stroke your wet pussy, and you gasp. Two of them push into you with ease, and just a few strokes – executed with precision – are enough to have you moaning loudly.

It’s only a matter of time before Marshall’s beard tickles between your legs, and you feel his hot breath on your skin. Do you want him to eat you out? Yes, absolutely. He’s so good at it, and it’s going to be absolutely amazing. On the other hand; he’s going to be so mean to you, and you’re going to get so punished when you come…

For a moment, you think about it as if you have a choice, and then you realize you don’t. You’re tied to the fucking coffee table, and there’s nothing you can do to stop either one of these guys from doing whatever they want to you. You really are a lucky girl.

Marshall’s tongue is warm and soft, especially compared to his beard, which is kind of rough against your skin. You gasp when he slowly licks every inch of your pussy before settling at your clit. He works that special spot with deadly precision, knowing exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. It’s amazing.

You’re moaning and swearing, begging him to stop, but you know he won’t. It’s almost impossible to move your hips, but that doesn’t stop you from instinctively trying to grind against his mouth. Eventually, it’s the sound of August’s moans and grunts that take you right to the edge again.

“Stop, please, Sir,” you beg, “I can’t. I’m going to… Please stop!” For a moment, you think it worked, because his mouth disappears.

“August, she keeps telling me to stop,” he says with a devious tone to his voice you don’t recognize – although it doesn’t take a genius to realize it can’t be a good thing, “I can’t work like this.”

By the time you’ve raised your head to look at what is going on, August has left the couch and has made his way to where your head hangs over the edge of the table. You’re screwed – in the best possible way, probably.

“Want me to shut her up?” August asks. The guys laugh as you protest the idea, and you earn yourself a few more sharp smacks to your behind for squirming. You know what’s going to happen, and you’re more than looking forward to it, but you’re not necessarily in a very comfortable position.

“My neck,” you whisper softy, and August immediately moves away, grabbing you a blanket to use as padding between your neck and the sharp edge of the table.

“Better, kitten?” he asks as he gently strokes your cheek. You nod – which feels weird, since you’re practically upside down – and he smiles at you.

“Yes, thank you, Daddy.”

Marshall’s mouth easily finds its way back to your clit, but this time August makes sure you can’t beg him to stop what he’s doing anymore. You raise a hand to his thigh – just in case – and part your lips so he can push his cock into your mouth. August gives you a moment to get used to him before he gently pulls out and slides back. He’s careful at first, but he knows you can take him all the way down in this position, and it doesn’t take long for him to pick up the pace.

“That’s it, good girl,” August says, “you’re doing amazing.” Your cheeks heat up when you hear his words, and for a moment you’re distracted from Marshall, who is still going down on you and doesn’t seem inclined to try anything else anytime soon. You just know he won’t stop until you come.

The good news is; you won’t last long. Between Marshall giving head and August fucking your throat – there’s really no reason to try to put a pretty description on that – you’re drowning in sensations, and you’re just one little nudge away from reaching your peak.

Marshall makes it happen when one of his heavy arms travels up your body, reaching for your throat. He doesn’t grab you, just gently lays his hand down, thumb softly stroking the side of your neck as August keeps using your mouth, but it’s enough to pull you over the finish line for the second time tonight. Marshall lets you ride out your high on his tongue, and then he withdraws – August doesn’t, although he does give you a moment to breathe.

“So, that’s ten,” Marshall says. The amusement in his voice is more than clear.

You hear the familiar sound of a belt buckle being undone, and you moan loudly around August’s cock when you realize what’s next. Soon, you feel the tip of Marshall’s cock push into you, and you moan again. Marshall’s hand is still on your throat, and you feel him pull you down slightly as he sinks deeper into your pussy. The growl that escapes him makes you shiver.

“Fuck, look at that,” August grunts. He’s close, and the view can’t be helping him much right now. You know he loves watching you, whether you’re playing with yourself or getting railed by another guy doesn’t matter much. After a few more brutal thrusts, he warns you that he can’t take it anymore. He does it out of courtesy; it’s not as if you can pull away, he will, or you would want him to.

“She’s so fucking perfect,” Marshall growls and slams his hips against yours as August fills your throat with thick ropes of cum. It’s a struggle to swallow all of it, and you feel some spill out of the corner of your mouth. August makes sure that whatever you couldn’t take in on the first try ends up in your mouth anyway, and you chuckle as you hear him moan when you gently suck on his finger.

“You were right, princess, pink doesn’t make you look like any less of a slut when it’s smeared all over your face like this,” August says as he strokes your cheek. It has to be covered in black streaks from your mascara, and you just know he loves the way you look right now.

“This tight fucking pussy doesn’t help, either,” Marshall says through clenched teeth in between heavy breaths. “God, you’re such a perfect little fuck toy.” He grunts as he comes, sliding deep into you one last time. He takes a moment to admire what he’s done to you before he starts to untie you.

While Marshall puts the ropes away, August gathers you into his arms and carries you back to the couch. You curl up in his lap, resting your head on his chest, catching your breath while you’re listening to the fast beating of his heart. If this already has you worked up like this – something you’ve actually done before – then how are you ever going to survive what you’re actually trying to achieve tonight?

“Good girl,” August groans into your ear as he traces the marks the ropes left on your legs, “you looked so pretty, princess. You’re so perfect.” His praise relaxes you, and you melt into his arms. It doesn’t take long for Marshall to join you, and you lean your head back against his chest. Having both of them hold you like this makes you wish they’d never leave, that you’d always get both of them, but you’re afraid that’s just going to be a fantasy forever.

“So, darling, do you want them now, or all at once when we’re done?” Marshall whispers into your ear when he feels you’ve calmed down sufficiently. You scowl at him, then at August, but there’s going to be no escaping this punishment.

“Daddy,” you whine, but he just laughs.

“I didn’t think so, kitten.” He presses a kiss to the tip of your nose and smiles. “If you’re a smart girl, you’re going to answer Sir’s question before he decides to leave it to me. I don’t feel like hurting my hand spanking you, you know that.” Oh yeah, you know. The last time August spanked you, he used his belt, and you could barely sit for two days. If you let Marshall do this, you’re going to enjoy it at least a little. With August? No chance.

“I’ll take ‘em now,” you growl at Marshall, who raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“Not like that, kitten.” It’s August who calls you out on your behavior. “I think you’re going to ask Sir to spank you, and you’re going to ask nicely. Otherwise, I’m going to have to take over, after all.”

“Would you please spank me now, Sir?” you repeat, avoiding both Marshall’s eyes and August’s as you say it, mostly so you don’t accidentally give any more attitude. August chuckles. You know how much he loves making you ask for your punishment. You’re fairly sure the spanking you’re about to get won’t be the last of the evening, and taking all of them at once when you’re through with the planned program is definitely going to be too much.

You protest lightly while Marshall manhandles you into position, making him laugh. He loves a bit of resistance from you – as long as you’re not squirming. His hands are heavy on the back of your thighs, which are trembling in anticipation.

“Are you alright, love?” There’s genuine concern in his voice, and his hand gently massages your ass. You nod, and not long after, Marshall’s hand makes contact with your skin. He’s going easy on you – very easy – and you just know he’s doing it on purpose. It’s right there in that sweet spot between pleasure and pain that turns you on more than anything else, and slowly but surely, your nerves begin to fade. You let out a soft yelp with each slap, out of surprise and anticipation rather than agony. Without thinking, you move your hand to the base of August’s cock and wrap your fingers around him.

“Come closer, please, Daddy,” you say, and he doesn’t need to be told twice. Marshall isn’t spanking you so hard that you’re afraid you’ll involuntarily clench your teeth, so you consider it safe enough to suck August off. When Marshall is done, you try to crawl out of his lap, but he won’t let you.

“Got any lube on hand?” he asks August, and you’re immediately caught up on what he’s going to do to you next. You whine when he removes the plug you were still wearing and replaces it with his well-lubed fingers. After a while, he seems convinced it’s time for something else, and he orders you to sit on his cock. Of course, you happily oblige.

It’s possible that getting spanked while sucking August off has made you wetter than ever before, and you easily take Marshall all the way into your soaked pussy. He keeps working his fingers into you while he kisses you deeply. August seems to be looking for something else in the meantime, and it isn’t until Marshall lets you go that you can tell what it is. He’s holding a very recognizable, shiny foil square.

“Condoms?” you ask. It’s surprising; you never use condoms with either of them. This feels like a weird time to start.

“Just in case we need to switch,” August says, “or want to.” For a moment, you want to ask what he means, but then you remember what you’re trying to do here. You take a deep breath when Marshall pulls his fingers out of you, trying desperately to relax when August’s cock slowly takes their place. Or rather tries to, because it’s not exactly smooth sailing at this point. Marshall raises his eyebrows at you when you swear under your breath, but you can’t help yourself. There’s no way this is going to work.

“More lube, please Daddy,” you whine. Marshall let’s out a low growl; your walls are squeezing him tight as you tense up.

“Relax, love,” he murmurs into your ear, but you shake your head.

“I can’t, Sir. I- Wait,” you gasp. You know you can’t stand to try the same thing – and fail – again, so maybe it helps to change the strategy. Marshall protests when you lift yourself off his cock. Now that you’re not filled up already, August slides into your ass with ease – exactly the way you’ve grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. It takes you only a short moment to adjust and then you slowly sink back down onto Marshall.

Your mouth falls open, you can’t see straight, and there is absolutely no way you can stop yourself from swearing now. The boys are way too caught up in whatever they’re feeling to say anything about it. The sensation is overwhelming, and the feeling of victory when you finally sit all the way down is indescribable.

“Wow,” you choke out between ragged breaths.

“’Wow’ sounds about right,” Marshall snarls through gritted teeth. If he clenches his jaw any harder, you’re afraid he’s going to shatter his teeth.

“Doesn’t begin to cover it,” August says as he leans his forehead against your shoulder. You sit there for a while, getting used to the feeling of being filled by two cocks. And then August moves, and you see stars.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, digging your nails into Marshall’s shoulder. He hisses when you do it, and you give him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Sir.”

“It’s okay, baby,” he says before pressing a gentle kiss on your lips, “you’re doing amazing.”

“You really are, kitten,” August says. He strokes your hair out of the way and kisses your neck softly. “You’re taking us so well. Both of us. I’m so proud of you.” Their words make your heart swell with pride, but if you had to be perfectly honest; you’re pretty damn proud of yourself, too. The three of you take another minute to adjust to the intense sensations before anyone moves again.

This time, to your surprise, it’s you. You move slowly, careful not to overestimate yourself when you lower yourself back onto the two cocks that fill you up inch by inch until they’re both completely inside you. It’s a seriously tight fit, but it feels so good. The move of your hips become faster as you get used to the way Marshall and August stretch you out, and the moans and grunts that the guys let out follow suit. Soon, your own movements, which are fairly restricted by the position you’re in, aren’t enough.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, and you can tell from the way Marshall looks pasts you that they’re exchanging glances, unsure whether it’s a good idea.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” August asks. The tone of his voice mimics the display of concern that is so clear on Marshall’s face.

“I’m sure,” you say. “Fuck me. I can handle it.”

That seems to convince them, because they both start moving; slowly at first, but picking up the pace as soon as they realize you weren’t lying. They can’t keep the same rhythm, which makes the entire experience rather interesting, and soon enough you feel your next orgasm building inside you. This one, you decide, is going to be so fucking worth it, there’s no way you’re going to even so much as try to deny yourself. Punishment be damned.

Fingers dig into your hips, your shoulders, your thigh. August’s lips move against the skin of your neck so gently it’s almost a ridiculous contrast with the way you’re being fucked senseless right now. When you lean your head back, it hits August’s shoulder, and frees up space for Marshall to kiss the other side of your neck. He never stops thrusting up into you, though. Every move they make is erratic, you’re getting closer with every thrust, and judging from the sounds they are making; so are they.

“Don’t stop!” You hope the words are something resembling intelligible between the moans that roll off your tongue freely, but it doesn’t matter much. “I’m comi- Fuck!”

Apparently the way your body tenses up from your orgasm is something the guys can’t handle: August sinks his teeth into your shoulder while Marshall throws his head back as he fills you up for the second time tonight. While August disappears to take care of some cleanup, Marshall pulls you down onto his cock and against his chest. You kiss his neck softly, earning you some appreciative moans.

“That was very impressive, darling,” he murmurs into your ear. “Do you think you can handle another round?” Another round? Your first instinct is to call him crazy, but considering the proposal for even a second sends shivers down your spine and makes your walls clench around Marshall’s cock. He chuckles when he feels the involuntary reaction of your body to his question.

“Come here,” he says as he moves you around so you’re in his lap with your back against him. He’s almost rough in his movements, impatient.

“Wait,” you say as you bend forward to grab the lube off the coffee table. You have to admit, August does a really good job making sure there’s always plenty in stock. Marshall applies a very generous amount before pulling your legs onto the edge of the couch. It’s genuinely surprising how easily his cock slides all the way into your ass.

“God, who would have thought that another cock was better prep than a few fingers?” You think you think it, but judging from the fact that Marshall laughs, you’ve actually said it out loud. It doesn’t matter; you laugh too – but only for a second. Marshall doesn’t waste any time, telling you to give him a sign if he hurts you and then taking off. His moves are far more gentle than they were a moment ago, but the feeling is no less intense – if you first divide everything you were going through about five minutes ago by two, that is.

In one of the rare moments when you can actually open your eyes, you see August, standing in the doorway. He’s biting his lip and stroking himself. Before you met August you didn’t have yourself pegged for someone with exhibitionist tendencies, but you have to admit; there’s just something you love about him watching you.

“You get off on Daddy watching you ride my cock, don’t you?” The extra effort you put in now that August is watching the two of you hasn’t escaped Marshall’s attention.

“Yes, Sir.” Almost mindlessly, you drop your hand between your legs and you finger yourself to within an inch of your next orgasm. You’re so close to the edge when something pulls your hand away: August.

“Do you want to help me come, Daddy?” He makes you shriek by shoving a few fingers – you’re not sure how many – inside you without warning. He doesn’t need to answer you; the way he curls them deep inside your pussy makes it abundantly clear that that’s exactly what he wants to do, and he does it so quickly that you’re not entirely sure whether you should be ashamed of it.

He keeps his fingers inside you while you ride out your high, but even when you’ve come down you whine when he pulls them out and holds them up to your mouth. Three fingers drum an impatient rhythm on your lower lip.

“Open up, princess,” he says, and you’re more than happy to obey him.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” Marshall groans in your ear, “licking my cum off Daddy’s fingers.”

With his fingers still in your mouth, August shoves his cock into your pussy. Your head falls back onto Marshall’s shoulder, and you moan loudly around August’s fingers. The different position and… configuration make everything feel different than before, but it’s at least as good. It doesn’t take long before you’re begging both of them to come inside you, and it doesn’t sound like they’re far off.

It’s a good thing, because despite the fact that all of this feels absolutely glorious, you’re not quite sure just how much more of this you can take. Meanwhile, the boys seem to have entered into a petty contest to see who can last the longest, but it has them finishing at about the same time. They’re both growling in your ear as they fill you up completely, and they don’t move for a while after they come.

“August, move,” you say rather unceremoniously while pushing against his shoulder. He does as you ask, but gives you a quizzical look. “I really need to not have a dick up my ass right now.” Both of them laugh as you say it, and they help you get up – which is something you desperately need, because standing on your own is a challenge you’re not exactly up for anymore, especially considering the fact that you’re still wearing your heels.

Marshall’s hands grab your hips, and he tries to pull you back into his lap, but you resist him.

“No, I’m all sticky,” you say, but he doesn’t care.

“We’ll take care of that in a bit, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur as you sink back onto his lap and lean against his chest. August sits down next to you and gently strokes your back while pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. None of you speak for a few minutes, until August suggests you take your minute in the bathroom, which you agree to.

“And then I want both of you in the shower with me,” you say. It’s your turn to be stern about this. Marshall can be very good at not stepping on any toes, and last time you were all together he did exactly that, but at the expense of his own needs. Never again. Not on your watch, anyway.

They seem more than happy to oblige, because once you’re done in the downstairs bathroom, they’re nowhere to be found on the ground floor. Once you make it upstairs, where you can already hear the water running, there’s no sign of Marshall. It’s just August, lying in bed, reading. You don’t have to ask the question; the look on your face is more than enough or him, and he points at the door to the bathroom and shrugs. A wave of anxiety hits you as you walk towards the door, and you just fiercely hope that Marshall is okay.

He is in the shower. His back is turned to you, but you can easily tell he’s tense. Without thinking, you join him. The water is colder than you’re used to, and your instinctive reaction gives away your whereabouts.

“I need both of you close to me right now, is that okay?” Marshall doesn’t look at you, and his behavior is starting to worry you. You’ve seen him drop before, and as much as you never want that to happen again, you doubt whether this is the same thing.

“I love you.” He says it like he’s committed a crime – a particularly grueling one, at that – and you can’t help but look at him in surprise. Does he think this is new information to you? He’s never said it out loud, but it’s so obvious from everything he does…

You’re pretty sure that there would be tears in his eyes if it wasn’t for the water crashing down on his head. “I’m afraid August is gonna be really mad at me for that.” Both of you turn around when you hear someone behind you laugh as if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard in his entire life – and knowing August, it probably is, or he wouldn’t be laughing like that.

“You think I didn’t know?” August casually leans against the shower wall before taking the final steps towards the two of you. “You honestly thought I’d let you near her if you didn’t love her?” You can’t explain how glad you are to hear him say that. It makes admitting to yourself that you love both of them a lot easier for you.

“I’m away half the time, Angel,” August says to you as he wraps his arms around you, “I like to know you’re taken care of by someone who loves you just as much as I do.” His eyes leave yours and he looks at Marshall before he continues: “Someone I can trust.”

You reach around Marshall to turn up the heat of the water, and both Marshall and August laugh.

“Why do you shower in lava?” August asks.

“Why do both of you shower in ice?” you retort.

“How about a compromise?” Marshall proposes, and you are all ears. “We’ll set the water temperature to something that doesn’t melt our skin off, and then we’ll keep you nice and warm?” You pretend to think about that for a moment, until two individual eyebrows are raised and you stick your bratty attitude right back where it belonged. Alright, most of it…

“Ok,” you say slowly, “but I demand to be kept warm all night. By both of you.” You add the last part mostly for Marshall. The last time the three of you spent time together, he’d gone home for the night, but you don’t want that now. He seems hesitant at first, but the look in his eyes disappears when August agrees – seemingly without even thinking about it. You can tell from the way he looks at Marshall that he’d meant everything he had just said.

After they have both agreed to your terms, they get to work on what they’d promised to do. Four hands roam your body freely, squeezing and lingering in all the places they know you love, somehow always finding their way inside you, teasing you until you feel that all too familiar feeling in your stomach. It’s a fantastic shower, without a doubt, it’s just that you doubt whether you’re getting much cleaner…

“Guys,” you say, “stop. I can’t take any more. Please, don’t.”

“Maybe we should listen,” August says, and Marshall raises his eyebrows in surprise. “After all, she still has an open tab for two.”

“Oh god, no. Not tonight,” you beg, “seriously, I…” You want to continue, but you’re shushed by both guys.

“Tonight is done, princess,” August says, “you’re done.” Suddenly, a wave of complete exhaustion washes over you that threatens to make your knees give out.

“It’s okay,” Marshall murmurs in your ear while he runs his hands over your back, “let’s get you to bed, okay?”

The guys get you ready for bed as if you have ‘handle with care’ tattooed on your forehead, and you smile all the way through it. They dry you off so carefully that you have to ask them to hurry up a bit, causing all three of you to laugh. Soon, you are in bed, which is a whole process of finding out which of whose limbs go where, but when you finally settle into a position that is comfortable for all three of you, you all sigh.

“Comfortable?” August asks, and you can’t do anything but nod and whisper the softest ‘yeah’ against his skin. He kisses your forehead just as Marshall does the same to your shoulder. “Good.”

#walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut #walter marshall fanfiction #walter marshall #august walker x female reader #august walker x reader #august walker #august walker fanfiction #august walker smut #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill

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yourtoradorasextendedwarranty · 9 months

Text

Fine I'll Bite

So I'm beyond the scope of normal anger here. Media has been on a crusade as of late to more or less make it out like child sex trafficking ISN'T happening and if it is, is only happening a TINY BIT. First of all. FUCK YOU. I'm not going to be calm here. The people CNN, MSNBC, ABC etc have had on to talk about this have been Prostasia supporters, and spokes people for fucking NAMBLA. Actual pedophiles are the people saying this movie is "over hyped" and " is fear mongering".

youtube

WHEN for all intents and purposes it's fully based on a true events, with very little changed for artistic posture. Which is why the movie was not a action adventure thriller with huge gun fights and explosions. Then we have THIS pos, and look, I don't know you but to you, fuck you.

And I'm not going to hide your name. You deserve to be looked into. "I always knew millions of people that were against child sex trafficking were fishy" Sure you did. Because it's impossible that there are not a few people donating to a movie being made that maybe aren't the best people.

Here's the kicker. Yahoo New, citing Newsweek both know what they were doing when they did this:

Yahoo News *Though the top header reads Jezebel so I'm a bit confused and concerned.

Newsweek

Now what do both of these have in common? Well when you first click on the Newsweek article it starts with the mug shot. Because regardless of the mans name, (and I don't personally know his nationality) He looks white. The media loves this. They want this. Because they know it stokes division. But what is the other thing they did? The headline. "Funder" is the word they used. And while Yahoo specifically goes out of their way to NOT mention the thousands of other crowd funders. News week at least had the decency to put it in the first paragraph. Though I am still pissed at the intentional slant here with the headline.

Now if you read the Newsweek article they don't give us much of anything. More or less not even telling us what exactly he's being charged for specifically as no information about the case exists it seems. At least not that Newsweek can verify also saying that he had direct involvement in the film somehow but then they go on to say this

So some credit again to Newsweek though they frankly don't deserve it.

My issue with both of these headlines is that it leads you into this idea that the movie got it's primary funding from this one guy. And the intent with that is to implicate the entire film as being a catfish. Why? I can tell you why. Because most of the mainstream left have sided with actual pedophiles and can't renounce them because if they do, they think the LGBT will revolt against them. Which is honestly disgusting because, let's suppose for a second, I as a moderate on the left, would believe that the LGBT would be mad if you called out pedophiles. What is the implication in that? Is it that you are saying that the LGBT ARE or are complacent in pedophilia? Because that sounds pretty fucking homophobic to me. Or is it that you don't want to risk alienating a voter base who seems to more and more align with you? At least the outspoken ones anyways.

I can't even express, as a victim of CSA myself how angry this topic makes me. THERE ARE legit avowed pedophiles trashing this movie, and ONE DONER out of 1000's does something f'd up that we have ZERO context on, and all of a sudden it's a win to prove the movie or the people as a WHOLE that support it are a problem.

I don't know how to tell you this. Hell I don't know how to force this down your throat. The movie. WAS. BASED. ON. REAL. EVENTS! And the telling of that story as well as actual news footage, shows there is a HUGE issue with child abductions and child sex trafficking. And saying that it's fear mongering, or that we shouldn't put that much worry on it REALLY makes it feel like you have something to hide.

And again. I can not even BEGIN to express how pissed off this makes me. I really can't. No one has any real reason to shit on this movie unless they have something to hide. No one has any real reason to shit on the movies message unless they have something to hide. Because the movie was based again on REAL LIFE. So either one you want people to not focus on this as a problem because you are a part of that problem. Or because you are mad that a large swath of the political middle and right have come out in support of it, but the neo liberal left has been mostly silent about it. And more the media has been propping up NAMBLA types to talk about why this movie "is just qanon fear mongering". If I could have a heart attack from sheer rage, I'd have had one having read that.

I've done my best to not lose my utter shit when dealing with the a-holes in the media trying to make this movie seem bad, and not worth paying attention to. And little by little I'm losing my patience. And I can't not be emotion driven on this because I'VE BEEN assaulted as a kid. I do my best to bury it every single fucking day and you're going to tell ME it's not that big a deal? Your going to tell ME that people supporting a movie based heavily on a true story is "Fishy". I don't support violence at all in 98%-99% of cases. For you, I'd make an exception. For the people at Yahoo(and or Jezebel) that wrote this, I'd make an exception. For the people that decided on that headline at Newsweek, I'd make an exception.

And for context, the Yahoo one is GOD AWFUL. And intentionally inflammatory. I will not link that here because they don't deserve the traffic. However I'll link the Newsweek one here so people can look at what a non story this bullshit is.

Newsweek Article

#discourse #yahoo news #rage #Youtube

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propertyofkylar · 6 months

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I really love what you write about Whitney 😍😍 I’m not sane about him at all, especially after everything Vrel unloaded… good dad Whitney, Whitney loft event, Whitney and his plushies. I LOVE HIM SO MYCH😞😞(sorry.) he’s so real tho. Would you write anything soft about him spending time with his family? Like him, PC, and his son in their new home after skipping town. I think he would be a boy dad tbh. Sorry for my long ask 👴🏻👴🏻

eeeee anon thank u that's so nice! and no need to apologize. this is a whitney lover safe space.

i LOVE this prompt....gonna go crazy with it.

cw: not much, just mentions of previous dol canon-compliant abuse

Whitney quietly closed the door behind him, instinct telling him that someone inside was fast asleep.

He was right. The first thing he saw walking into the tiny flat was you and your son, curled up on the couch, fast asleep. The sight brought a smile to Whitney's face.

It was still such a novel concept to him. Never in a million years did he expect to have his own small family, much less enjoy it. But here he was.

It hadn't been planned, Whitney thought as he took a spot next to you on the couch. But when you told him you were pregnant and he was the father, he knew he had to make a change.

The two of you had worked hard. You took the money you had and ran. Now, you were here. Far away from that godawful town and all the horrors that resided in it.

Whitney worked in the day and took classes in the night. His free time was spent with your child. You worked odd jobs like babysitting and cleaning homes - jobs you could do with the baby - and took online courses. Life was busy and exhausting. You didn't have much, but Whitney was working towards a better future. For his family.

You stirred next to him on the couch, letting out a yawn with your eyes closed. "Thought I heard you come home."

"Morning, slut," Whitney teased. The afternoon sun was starting to set.

You weakly smacked him on the arm. "Told you not to call me that in front of the baby."

Whitney rolled his eyes. "He's asleep. He won't know."

You opened your eyes finally, just to roll them at Whitney. You handed the slumbering child over to him. "Your son has been a needy shit all day. Just like his dad."

Whitney chose not to point out the hypocrisy of your language, opting to be nice. He wrapped his free arm around your shoulders, admiring the tiny family he had.

"Got a nice tip today," he announced. "What do you say I treat my slut to a nice dinner?"

You sat up, raising an eyebrow at him. "A nice dinner?"

"Fish and chips is nice!" Whitney protested. "Whatever. Can't you just be grateful?"

"Mm, no," you said with a smile. "But I'll take the dinner anyway."

Whitney leaned back and sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I thought after all this time, you would stop being so annoying. Guess I was wrong."

Your grin grew wider. "Yeah, but you're stuck with me now."

"Guess I am," Whitney said with a smile back. Only, he didn't feel stuck.

In fact, he felt freer than he ever had.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #whitney the bully #dol whitney #ooc whitney probably #but oh well #writing #im a simp for him #ignore the fact that canonically bailey would come hunting you #and so would kylar #but we dont deal with canon here. what i say goes!!

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newtdrawz · 6 months

Note

Could u do dally and pony friendship hcs🫣

OH MY GOD YES I CAN

You don't understand,, how obsessed I am with their friendship omg 😭 (lil warning these are prolly ooc but I really tried 😭😭 I promise) (feel free to add on to these I love seeing other ppls hc's!!)

Ok throwback to my Ponyboy HC's post where I said Dally is really supportive of Pony's hobby in art!!!!!

Dally might be (secretly ofc he would never admit it) like the #1 fan of Pony's art, besides Johnny and Soda obvi

He really likes watching him sketch and paint, it's memorizing to him and he can't fathom how it looks like a picture from a camera almost, he tells him that too. ("I dunno how you're able to do that so quickly, Pone." "It looks like a photograph almost.")

Pony always tries to downplay his talents and Dally (ofc in his mean/tough love Dally way lol) tells him not to do that and to not sell himself short

Dally truly believes Pony could be famous from his art. That he could get out of Tulsa and make a name for himself. He doesn't really know how to communicate that to him besides the rare compliment here and there.

Another throwback to the post where I did the hc that Johnny and Dally will sit in and listen to Pony read,,

Dally doesn't like reading, never really cared for it. He thinks Pony reading all the time is a little funny and he'll tease him abt time to time.

When he first finds Johnny sitting in the lot with Pony and Pony reading one of his books out loud to Johnny he obviously had to interrupt and obviously sit with them (they're happy to include him btw they don't mind 😭😭)

Dally will not. Shut. Up. He asks Pony abt a million questions abt the book. ("Well why'd the guy go and do that?" "Why's he stupid?" "Wait what happened before that?" "What's that ladies name again?" "Wait What's she look like again?")

This is one of the very few (and probably first) times Pony talks back/sasses Dally ("Why don't you be quiet and let me finish reading the page? And then maybe you'll know what's happening.")

Idk how to explain this but Dally is def the type of friend to feed into his friends delusions 😭 or like hype them up for something they definitely SHOULD NOT do,, like ykwim?? And he def does it with Pony

He definitely encourages Pony to get into a little bit of trouble, just a tiny bit.

Obviously Pony can get in trouble on his own and he does plenty but Dally just encourages it a little bit more lol

He calls it "getting Pony out of his comfort zone" while Darry calls it "peer pressuring" (there was def a conversation/argument abt it 😭😭) (Dal: I am NOT peer pressuring him, I'm getting him out of his comfort zone. Dar: yes you are Dal! Dal: No I'm not! Pony do you feel peer pressured?! Say no. Pony: No... Dal: See?! He's fine. He's having fun!)

Dally 100% keeps Pony out of any real trouble tho, the kind that'd get him sent away or seriously hurt. He'd never encourage him to do something bad enough to warrant those things.

Ok, Dally is actually really nice but in a mean way. Like he's aggressively nice where no one's sure if they're being threatened or complimented or insulted. He's no different with the gang

If Pony or Johnny are like really bad at something Dally will threaten the rest of the gang to lie and be nice 😭😭😭 he won't be nice because it's not expected of him but he'll make everyone else be nice.

One time Pony tried to bake a cake and for some reason he just can't bake. He can cook fine but not bake. So it was like awful but ofc the gang tried it.

When Pony isn't paying attention Dally turns to the gang and straight up threatens them. ("This thing tastes like shit but you're all gonna tell him it tastes good or I swear I'll shove your faces into the cake.")

Dally has no idea WHY he does it, cuz he's not nice (he is) and he doesn't care abt Johnny or Pony's, or really anyone's, feelings (he does he's just emotionally constipated 😭😭😭)

Dally still is kinda mean to Pony though, not mean but like teasing?? Like in a big brother way

Sometimes he just says things without really thinking abt it or randomly teases him (like Pony reading all the time and being a nerd and not talking to girls)

One night they're both sitting on the porch smoking and it's kinda late and Dally randomly just says "ya'know I don't really mean it, right?" And Pony says yeah and Dally just nods and they go back inside.

After that Dally still teases him and stuff but Pony kinda knows now to not really take it heart cuz that's just Dally being Dally.

From an outsiders perspective it does look/sound like Dally is just being and a-hole 😭😭 but the gang just knows him enough that it's some weird love language he has to just be mean to them 😭

Whenever Dally's about to do something really stupid/dangerous/illegal he threatens Pony and Johnny to not do it

Before he does anything he'll look both of them in the eyes and either tell them to beat it incase the police show up or back up and hideout

He looks directly at Pony and goes "Do NOT tell Darry I did this infront of you or else." ("Do not, and I mean do not, EVER do what I'm about to do or I'll beat both of you.")

Dally is basically like the only one rlly allowed to be mean/tease Pony (in his head at least 😭)

Dally makes fun of him plenty and Pony just rolls his eyes and laughs. Dally will ruffle his hair and punch him in the arm and all that.

But the minute someone who isn't Darry or Soda or himself says something rude to Pony he just gets so mad 😭

One time he threatened Steve cuz Steve said something to Pony. ("You better shut up and leave the kid alone, Steve.") (Steve's confused cuz like not even 5 seconds ago Dally just called Pony an idiot or something 😭😭)

He's especially this way with socs and authority figures

And it's not like Pony can't defend himself or anything, Dally knows he can but he just gets mad anyways and again he just starts talking before thinking and next thing he knows he's nearly throwing hands with someone cuz they were an a-hole to his friend lol

He's basically the "only I can be mean to him and no one else can" type of friend 😭

Ok this post got a little out of hand 😭

I had waaaaaay too much fun with this I just really love talking about and making hc's 😭 I'm still trying to nail down Dally's personality so if (which he probably is,,) he's ooc sorry 😭 I literally can't help taking the characters and literally changing sm abt them from canon 😭😭 it's truly a problem but I will try to get him right 🙏

(If there's any spelling mistakes or anything sorry I did this half asleep w/ a headache cuz I was so excited abt this ask 😭 I couldn't wait)

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winners-dont-bleed

Mustard & Burgundy

chaotic-relapse

~chaos.

xia-xueyi

那夜星光漫天你灿烂笑颜曾映照我心间

sapphicconfession

Sapphic Confession

veilore

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