#it hurt me drawing them so... smooth.. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incognit0slut · 2 months

Note

hi! could u write a fic about is the first time of the reader with spencer helps her and them made love so romantic *im sorry im so romantic 🙈* :)

I luv all ur writings <3

xoxo

(18+) soft spencer x inexperienced reader. 1.4k

Love was a foreign concept until he met you.

Spencer has savored the taste of chocolate, relishing its rich sweetness as it melts on his tongue. He's indulged in the smoothness of honey, its velvety texture spreading across his palate. And amidst his love for the sugar in his coffee—slightly bitter yet abundantly sweet—none of these flavors could compare to the taste of you.

Because you tasted so divine, it was the only way he could describe it. His hands were pressed on the back of your thighs, forcing you to spread your legs further apart as he worked his tongue over you, swallowing every drop of arousal that dripped down to his mouth.

The thought of ever going back to a life without the taste of you seemed absurd now—It was a crime against his senses. So he devoured you eagerly, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony, completely lost in the spell of your flavor and scent. He couldn't get enough, and honestly, he didn't want to stop.

He was hooked, addicted to the way you writhed and moaned beneath him; your fingers tangling in his hair, your desperate pleas, and the way your hips bucked against his mouth. And when he sensed you teetering on the edge of release, he doubled his efforts, sucking and licking with a feverish intensity, intent on drawing out every last drop of your bliss.

It wasn't until you gently pushed his head away that Spencer finally drew back, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. You couldn't help but giggle at the satisfied grin that spread across his face, his breathless chuckle mirroring your amusement as he crawled over your trembling body.

"That was..." you trailed off, running your hand up his arm as he settled between your legs.

"Good?"

You sighed.

"Amazing. Splendid. Marvelous."

With a soft laugh, he reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Someone's been hitting the thesaurus."

You swatted at his shoulder playfully. "Shut up and kiss me again."

The smile on his face widened into a grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin before capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. He pressed himself closer to you and the unmistakable sensation of his cock brushing against your clit made you gasp in surprise.

"You're so perfect," he muttered, slowly grinding his length along your wet folds. He fought the urge to take you right then and there, but your comfort was his priority. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted. "Are you sure you're ready?"

You stifled a sigh. While you appreciated his concern, it was starting to get on your nerves, after all, it was just sex... You might be inexperienced, but how difficult could it be?

"Mmhm," you answered, though your voice came out a pitch higher than you intended. "Of course, I am."

He slightly pulled away. "You don't sound so sure."

You stared at him for a moment before finally letting out a sigh.

"Fine, I'm a little nervous, okay?" Biting your bottom lip, you voiced the question that had been weighing on your mind.

"Is it—" you suddenly sighed, or it was more like a moan that escaped your lips as the underside of his cock continued to rub along your wetness. "Is it... going to hurt?"

His expression softened as he reached out to gently cup your cheek. "It might be uncomfortable at first, but I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassured. "We can stop anytime you want."

"I don't want us to stop."

A surge of warmth flooded him at your words, and he leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Then we won't," he promised, slipping his hand between your body. "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

You made a noise in the back of your throat as you watched him bring his cock closer, dragging it through your folds before he thrust his hips forward. The sensation was overwhelming and unfamiliar, and you couldn't help but tense up in response.

"Is this okay?" he asked. You nodded, though your breathing had become erratic. Your eyes fell closed as you started to feel him stretching you, the sensation both strange and uncomfortable. It was like your body was resisting him.

"Honey, I need you to relax," he murmured soothingly. "Can you do that for me?"

You winced when you felt him pushing further, a sharp pang of discomfort shooting through you. "S-Spence... it hurts..."

"I know, honey, I know," he whispered, his thumb continuing its gentle caress against your cheek. "Breathe with me."

You opened your eyes, meeting his reassuring gaze. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your racing heart, and he followed suit, matching your rhythm. In. Out. In. Out. Hold.

Breathe.

"Good, that's it," he encouraged softly. "Just like that. You're doing great."

Despite the initial discomfort, you focused on relaxing your body, allowing him to stretch your tight walls. He watched your lashes flutter against your cheek before his gaze dropped between you, taking in the stretch of your cunt, slowly allowing him to press deeper and deeper.

He then buried his face in your shoulder as he sheathed himself completely and you stifled a shocked yelp as you clung onto his shoulders for dear life, nails digging into his skin. You hadn't expected to feel so full, for him to reach that deep.

The room fell quiet, broken only by the steady rhythm of your breathing and the faint rustle of sheets. He waited patiently, his body pressed against yours, allowing you time to adjust. Then, he pressed a lingering kiss on your collarbone, his lips warm against your skin.

"Tell me how it feels," he whispered. You weren't sure you could form proper words, becoming so lost at the feeling of him inside of you. But you managed to take a moment to gather your thoughts.

"It feels... weird," you replied.

He lifted his head from your shoulder. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as you stared up at him. He was beautiful like this, pressed against you, cheeks flushed with desire, damp hair tousled on his forehead—his cock finally buried deep inside you.

"You're doing so well for me, you know that?" he said, and the words made you sigh in response as his hips moved slightly back before rolling back into you, causing you to close your eyes with a quiet gasp the same time he let out a groan.

Something shifted after that. The air crackled with electricity. The blood in your veins pumped a little faster and your breathing deepened, each inhale filling your lungs with the heady scent of him. With growing urgency, your hips began to buck forward, eager to meet his slow, deliberate pace.

"Th-That feels good," you couldn't resist whispering to him. The initial pain you had felt had quickly faded, replaced by a rush of pure, hot pleasure that overwhelmed your senses.

"Do you think I can go faster?" He whispered, and you could hear the slick noise as he thrust his cock into your dripping walls. "Can you take it?"

A breathless yes escaped your lips and it was enough for him to get lost in you completely. His lips found their way to your neck, trailing kisses along your skin as he quickened his pace. The sensation was overwhelming, it was too much yet not enough, and all he could do was kiss every inch of your skin and tighten his grip on your body.

Spencer never understood the term making love, for love itself had often felt like a foreign concept to him. But with you in his arms, nothing else seemed more fitting, it was as if you were two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together.

He now realized that love wasn't something to be analyzed, it wasn’t something his big brain could understand—it was meant to be felt, deeply and profoundly, and his love for you was as natural as the beating of his own heart.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader smut

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grnherbs · 2 months

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i need oscar fingering you for the first time and him just being gentle🙏

look at my face baby | op81

afab!reader, eighteen plus, mdni

thank you for your request anon! sorry it took so long to get round you

he had you laid back on his double bed, hands softly tracing over your shirt and leaving soft kisses along the corners of your lips, both of you were hot and sweaty from a prolonged make out session on the couch downstairs.

he’d picked you up, legs wrapped round his waist, head down, hidden into his shoulder as you feel yourself being carried to his room. you’d been in his room before but, something about the two of you being alone in the house, no sound, taking you to his bedroom, hot and heavy was just so intoxicating.

you look up at him as he crawls up the bed, leaning over and kissing your nose “hey sweetheart” he smiles as you blush in his direction, eyes closing, causing him to chuckle gently. you still weren’t used to the nicknames, the kisses and the love this early on in the relationship, but god did oscar love to tease.

he moves his hands down now, fluttering at your waist and leans to kiss you, softly on the lips with a shy smile still on your lips, whimpering softly into it, a giggle settling between you two at the sound.

“wanna try something with me?” he looks into your eyes with his sweet gaze, “i’ll be gentle okay?” he nods in your direction and you nod back, at a loss for words, his hands moves down, pulling your trousers down as he does. he slows at the frightened look on your face and kisses your forehead “is this okay baby?” he checks in and you nod, “y-yes oscar”.

when he has your trousers halfway down your thighs, he moves his hand back up to hook your underwear down too, slowly, as if to not frighten you at all, kindhearted and gentle as he goes, which you takes a deep shaken breath out to sooty yourself.

once your underwear had been quite literally flung across the room, he starts smoothing his hands over your thighs, warm and veiny from the innate amount of sexual tension between you, your eyes watering slightly as you usher out a “please osc..” which has him spreading your knees gently, hand dipping between them and letting out his own moan when he finds how wet you are for him.

“god… you feel so good angel, so wet for me” he clicks his tongue in his mouth, before biting his lip, one finger drawing down the slit to reach your opening, slipping it in slowly, almost unbareably. “just taking my finger so good baby, that’s it… one at a time, don’t wanna hurt my baby”

you grip his thick bicep and look up through your wet lashes at him, flustered and bucking your hips up slowly at the intrusion, feeling so full yet so empty at the same time, especially when he begins to thrust the finger in and out as a near torturously slow pace, but if you asked he would say he was simply ‘warming you up’.

you bump your hips up more again, and he places his other hand on the apex of your stomach, pushing you down lightly so you can move away. “you’re okay baby, i’ll give you more don’t worry” he leant down to kiss your forehead and you feel your heart pounding in your chest at his sweet actions. he was your boy, your sweet boy and you’d do anything for him.

he takes his finger out before submerging two in you, earning a gasp from you at this moment in time, your hand which rests of his bicep is squeezing tighter and he chuckles at this “i got you, shhh” he soothes and continues his movements, the feeling of fullness and euphoric bliss makes your head feel fuzzy and you drop it back against the pillow, a moan escaping your lips.

you see the blushed cheeks of the aussie before you, his hair messy over his forehead now, biting his lip in either concentration or to stave off just fucking you. but he wanted to treat you, wanted to be kind to you, wanted to give you pleasure before anything else. he rests his head against yours, eyes meeting your own and he smiles, warm, fingers moving deeper and at a quicker pace than before.

“you’re getting close aren’t you sweet thing?” he whispers at you and you nod, biting your own lip at this point, toes curling and you’re pulling him closer, needy for his proximity and closeness. “i love you osc, i love you” you say gently, and he looks overjoyed, fingers finding the pace and whispering back thoughts of adoration.

the feeling hits you like a freight train, you whimper out and shake under his touch, and he holds you close to him, hand which rests on your stomach coming up to hold the nape of your neck, letting you roll out your orgasm on his hand, “that’s it, did so well for me baby, so so well, i love you” he ushers to you and smiles sleepily.

“so sweet for me, doing so well”. and you close your eyes once more, head resting on his shoulder.

#oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #piastri #oscar piastri smut #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #oscar piastri x reader

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astraystayyh · 10 months

Text

Say yes to heaven

hyunjin x reader. seven minutes in heaven except you're heartbroken and hyunjin has a huge crush on you. angst and softness and slightly suggestive in the end.

cw: mention of drinking alcohol and cheating. reader has lipstick on.

part 2. say yes to me

Hyunjin's legs are aching from sitting crisscrossed for so long. The music reverberates loudly, bouncing off the walls in Changbin's house. You are all playing truth or dare, a gathering of twenty people or something. But he isn't keeping count of anyone around. His eyes are fixated on you.

You are downing your drink, nudging Chan's side so he'd pour you another shot. He understands why you feel the need to forget, to fog up your mind until the world around you blurs. Your ex Suho, the one you had just broken up with two weeks ago, is kissing someone else, right in front of you. Hyunjin doesn't care enough to see who it is, his heart clenching at the sight of the tears brimming in your eyes.

You are hurt, rightfully so. Hyunjin never understood why you've ever dated Suho. He never cherished you, never treated you the way you were deserving of. Because you were beautiful, so beautiful it rendered Hyunjin putty in your hands. Though that was merely the surface of everything captivating about you.

The bottle is spined again, and Hyunjin's breath catches when it lands on him... Then you.

"Seven minutes in heaven!" Changbin shouts and you roll your eyes, before standing up and heading first into the closet. Hyunjin follows closely behind.

He closes the door, plunging you both into pitch darkness. Your hands find his arms suddenly, gripping them tightly.

"You okay?" he asks, concern dripping from his tone.

"It's really dark," you whisper, and Hyunjin's brows furrow further.

"We should leave," he suggests, moving to open the door but you pull him back. "No, no. Let's stay."

"But you're scared."

"It's okay. You're here."

"Is this about Suho?" Hyunjin asks tentatively, after a few silent beats, and he can hear you suck in a deep breath. He knows he just hit a sensitive chord.

"Yes."

One.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he whispers, placing a reassuring hand on your back.

"Save it. I won't make out with you," you reply, sudden anger lacing your words. Hyunjin understands it's just your walls being put up so he wouldn't dare peek behind them.

"I know," he says softly, and your hold on his white shirt tightens. You're both so close, his chest is almost pressed to yours. Can you hear how wildly his heart is beating?

"Fuck, I'm sorry Hyune," the nickname slips from your mouth, sweet and familiar. He missed hearing it. Missed what you had before Suho came into the picture. "I'm just really really hurt," you admit, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Do you want me to fight him? You know I would," he tries to keep his tone soft even though raw anger simmers within him.

"You don't even know what he did," you chuckle weakly and he shakes his head. "He made you cry. That's enough for me."

Two.

You stay silent, but your forehead rests on his chest, as slight tremors shake your body. Your wound was still so fresh, and seeing Suho tonight only made matters worse. But Hyunjin's body is warm, and his arms tightening around you feel safe. You think you can face your ex again if he's by your side.

"Please don't cry," he says, hands reaching up to smooth down your hair, as his chin rests atop your head. He's so gentle with you, so sweet, more than Suho has ever been in your relationship.

"I'm sorry, this isn't what you signed up for," you apologize, but you can't find it in you to pull away. Instead, you wrap your arms around his waist, drawing him nearer to you.

"It's okay. This is nicer." You can't see him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. His smile is always so pretty, and his perfume is making you dizzy. You've drunk too much.

Three.

"How have you been?" you ask, fingers drumming gently along his back. Hyunjin doesn't know how he managed to speak normally to you up until now. Not when you've intoxicated him, when all he could feel in this cramped up space was you.

"Good," he finally manages to say. "And you?"

"I'm good. I missed you," you admit, and his heart seems to pause within his chest.

"You're drunk," he dryly chuckles but you shake your head against his chest. "I know what I'm saying. I'm sorry for taking my distance these past few months. The truth is... I didn't have enough energy to be a good friend, it was draining me to deal with Suho."

"Don't apologize. There is nothing to forgive."

"You promise me?"

"I promise."

Four.

You're full-on hugging now, arms tightly intertwined around one another, and hyunjin thinks this is his heaven- to bury his head in your hair, to smell the sweet scent of your shampoo.

"You smell nice," you mumble, cheek resting right across his chest. "Why is your heart beating so loud, Hyunjin?" you ask curiously, eyes closed.

Hyunjin thinks if he stays silent enough, then you'll forget you've ever asked. Because he can't bring himself to lie to you.

"You smell nice too," he settles on saying. "You look really pretty too."

"Thank you, Hyune." That damned nickname again. "I think... I think you're making my heart beat faster too," you mumble and Hyunjin shuts his eyes closed. You are killing him, stabbing him, and twisting the knife deeper inside his heart. And he's allowing it because it's you.

Five.

"Why do you think he cheated on me?" you ask, voice barely audible, and Hyunjin has to try his best not to storm out right now. He had guessed it was bad, but not this horrible.

"Don't. Don't ever think it was your fault. It wasn't. It could never be. It was his," he speaks the words firmly as if trying to drill them into your mind, erasing every wrong belief you held about yourself.

"Do you mean it?"

"I do," he leans away, cradling your face between his hands. He's so gentle. his voice and his touch and his existence. How could one be so gentle to you?

"You are everything someone would ever dream of. If I were him I would..." he cuts himself off, before saying something stupid; something that would tip the scale of your friendship.

"Finish it, finish what you were saying," you plead, voice shaky and he can't find it in himself to say no.

"If I were him, I would never let go of you. I'd do everything, anything to make myself worthy of you, of your love."

Six.

"Can I try something?" you ask tentatively, and Hyunjin feels as if the world stopped spinning around him. The outside world doesn't exist anymore, all he knows is you.

"Yes," he whispers, voice raspy, and you nod. Your shaky hands reach up to trace his face, cupping his cheeks gently. You're standing on your tippy toes, and Hyunjin can feel your breath fanning over his skin, feel goosebumps burst across his body. And then, the most tender kiss, placed on his cheek.

Your lips linger, pressing into his skin and marking it up for eternity. His hands find your sides, they're trembling, but they're warm and they feel nice to you.

You gulp, before kissing his cheek again. And then, you trail down, your lips finding the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin's knees buckle underneath him. It's too much, colorful dots cloud his vision and he hasn't even drunk anything.

Your hand curls around the nape of his hair, and then you brush your lips against his neck, slowly, deliberately, as if testing the ways in which you could drive him insane. You've succeeded, he wants to say. He's yours to do anything you want with.

Seven.

"Time's up!" Changbin's loud voice rings outside of the closet, and it snaps you both out of your haze. You stumble back, fingers brushing tentatively across your lips. It feels as if your entire body is on fire, even though your kisses were innocent, tentative. But you're feeling more than you've ever did with Suho.

"Hyunjin, I-" The door pulls open, sudden light flooding your vision. You can finally see the evidence of your kisses- crimson imprints on his cheek, trailing down his neck, giving way to a flushed chest. He's so pretty. And you've marked him up for everybody to see.

"We'll talk later, okay?" Hyunjin smiles, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Okay."

Seven minutes felt like seven lifetimes for Hyunjin. And he'd live them all with you, love you in each if you'd let him. He'd do anything so you'd let him.

⁀➷✧･ﾟ

part two

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz angst #stray kids angst #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin angst #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz au #skz fanfic #skz scenarios

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lovebugism · 4 months

Note

Im a very indecisive person but I guess I'll go with “Surprise, I have feelings and you just hurt them.” with Eddie, if you have any inspiration for this prompt 💕

ty for requesting!! — you get mean when you like someone, so eddie thinks you hate him (grump!reader, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, shameless succession reference, 1.9k)

“Please, tell me you’re joking,” you mumble through the melting vanilla shake on your tongue.

Robin grins at you across the table and shakes her head. “Nope,” she says, popping the p. “You are officially looking at Vicki Carmichael’s latest odyssey.”

You and Eddie look over your shoulder at Steve. He stands at the front counter and fumbles with the straw dispenser — hitting the lever repeatedly, with an increasingly rougher touch when nothing comes out. He flounders when they all spill out at once.

He’s lucky he’s so pretty.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Eddie announces from beside you after stealing a sip of your milkshake. He squints and fights off a brain freeze. “Why didn’t he just tell us? He’s screwing the hottest girl in town— it feels like something he’d brag about.”

“I’m sitting right here,” you scoff, mostly kidding.

“‘Cause he knew you guys would totally ream him for it,” Robin answers and pinches fry crumbs into her mouth. Through a mouthful of them, she says, “It’s not like you’re usually supportive about this kinda stuff.”

“I’m all for Steve being a slut, okay?” you defend with your hands up in surrender. “But I do draw the line at my best friend fucking the girl who bullied me in high school.”

“What’d she do?” Eddie asks. You can’t tell if he really cares or if he just wants something new to laugh at you for, but you decide to humor him anyway.

“She cut out the boobs of my gym shirt before class because she knew if I dressed out again, I was getting detention,” you explain, smiling when it makes the table laugh. “I had to run the mile with my bright pink sports bra showing, but at least my record was clean.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Steve wonders aloud when he returns to the table, carrying the only straw that hadn’t fallen to the floor. He slides into the booth next to Robin and looks at the three of you expectantly.

“Nothing.” the brunette girl chirps.

“You,” Eddie deadpans.

You squint. “Real smooth, Munson.”

“Wait, what?”

Eddie laughs. “I mean, Vicki Carmichael? Seriously?”

Steve gapes at Robin, features yawned in betrayal. “You told them?”

The girl shrugs, taking a big bite of her burger and playing coy.

“She’s hot and everything, but she’s really not your type, man.”

Steve’s eyes narrow across the table. “What’s that supposed to mean, freak?”

“She likes bad boys,” you answer for him, shrugging like it’s obvious. “You know, the Billy Hargrove types. With tattoos and leather jackets and long hair. And, no offense, but you’re the furthest thing from that.”

“I think you just described me, doll,” Eddie laughs.

“Weren’t you screwing around with Billy Hargrove a couple months ago?” Steve wonders with a knowing, honeyed squint.

“Shut up, Harrington,” you bite.

Eddie grins with all his teeth, pink and boyish and proud. “Oh, so you’re screwing guys that are just like me now, huh? I’m flattered.”

“If anything, you’re the dollar store version of Billy Hargrove, Munson,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, turning your attention to the milkshake in front of you. You stab holes in the thick ice cream and try to ignore the sudden attention.

All the eyes on you make you nervous. You were never good at being the butt of the joke. ‘Cause when you get embarrassed, you get mean. Like some kinda hurt dog.

“You have everything but the looks.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie snorts and snatches the frosted glass away from you. He slides it over to his side of the table and sips from the straw that has your lipstick stained on the tip of it. “You can’t insult me—”

“Can’t I?”

“—Not when you’re fucking a carbon copy of me,” he scoffs and tries to ignore the jealousy burning wildfires behind his ribcage.

“He’s nothing like you,” you insist.

“He’s exactly like me. Just blonde. And watered down,” Eddie argues, face twisted with disgust. He smiles when it makes everyone else laugh but you. “I mean, it’s kinda sad, actually. I turned you down, so you had to try it out with Hargrove?”

“I didn’t try it, first of all, I fucking conquered it,” you retort, not exactly joking but grinning when it makes Steve and Robin chuckle to themselves. “And second of all, I never wanted you, Munson. So there was never anything to turn down.”

Your words sting somewhere deep in his chest. Like there’s a knife lodged deep in his heart that aches every time he breathes. He doesn’t know what to do with this hurt other than hurt you back.

“So that night you told me you liked me after my show— that was all a lie?” he asks, smirking to hide his ache.

Robin’s eyes go wide as she bites into her burger. “What is this? A sleepover?” she scoffs with her mouth full. “Why is everyone telling each other’s secrets?”

“You started it, Buckley,” Steve quips before stealing one of her fries.

Your answer is immediate. A total lie, but instant nonetheless. No one’s gonna out-insult you. Rarely ever do you come out of petty arguments without having drawn the most blood.

“Yeah! You bombed, and I felt bad, and I wanted to make you feel better,” you confess with a sinister giggle. “What I really wanted to say is that I wish your mom had given birth to a can opener because at least then it might be good at something.”

Eddie meets your smirk with a glower, something genuinely pained that makes your chest sting. You refuse to show it, though. Not even when he slides out of the booth. “Yeah, okay. Fuck you,” he mumbles to himself as he goes.

“What?” you scoff a cynical laugh.

“C’mon,” Steve murmurs quietly to you. “That was a little too far.”

“Oh, so he can make fun of me, but I can make fun of him?”

“It’s different. You know that.”

You roll your eyes even though you know he’s right. Eddie’s a clown, but he means well. He’s a dumbass because he doesn’t know how to be serious about anything, but he’s hardly ever outright mean.

You’re made of something more hardened than that. You set fires all around you, and only when a person walks through it do you know they really care. You don’t mean to be so mean half the time. It’s a defense mechanism more than anything. A time-bomb you never really learned to defuse.

“It was a joke, Eds!” you shout as he storms the short distance to the entrance of the diner.

“Well, surprise. I have feelings—” he grins, though there’s little emotion behind it. The door dings over his head when he shoves it open. He reaches for the crushed packet of cigarettes in his pocket. “—And you just hurt them.”

The diner feels strangely silent with him gone. The air feels noticeably heavy, too.

You reach for the milkshake he left on his side of the table and slide it audibly back over to you. You don’t sip from it, though. Your stomach’s too much in knots now. You just busy your fidgeting hands with it, holding the frosted glass in your delicate palms until they ache.

“Stop staring at me,” you mumble, not meeting the silent looks Robin and Steve give you across the booth.

“Go talk to him before you give him a complex.”

“Yeah,” the boy hums with a knowing smile. “Go kiss and make up.”

“Shut up,” you bite with a scrunched-together face. You deflate with a sigh. “Fine. I’ll go— but not because you told me to.”

You hear them laugh quietly to themselves as you walk out behind Eddie.

He leans against the corner of the old building and blows smoke from his lungs. He looks relatively unfazed despite the circumstances. You swallow down the worry that you’re embarrassing yourself by being out here at all.

Your shoes scuff against the sidewalk as you near him. “Eds—”

“I’m fine,” he interjects before you can say anything real. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“Well, it’s too late. Steve and Robin already kicked me out here, so…” You trail off in a monotone, despite having already declared that you were out here not because you were told to be. He doesn’t need to know that, though. “…I’m sorry.”

He takes a puff of the cigarette between his fingers, then shrugs on the exhale. “Okay.”

“The can opener thing was stupid— I mean, it wasn’t nice either, but it was a really dumb joke,” you ramble without taking a single breath. You cross your arms over yourself in a makeshift shield. “You didn’t even bomb that night. At your show or whatever. I lied. You were… You were actually really good.”

Eddie turns his head slowly. He blinks at you with chocolate eyes sparkling with amusement.

You cower under his stare. “What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” he insists with a crooked smile.

“What?” you repeat, forcing a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he chuckles and brings the cig back to his mouth. He mumbles through the stick. “But it’s cool, you know? I can cope.”

“I’m being serious, Eddie,” you argue. And then, when your chest starts to sting, it becomes impossible not to make a joke. “I think you’re a… super-talented superstar—”

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” he interjects with a sincere laugh, like honey and gunpowder.

You giggle, and the foreign tension ebbs.

“I’m just kidding,” you assure and prop your back against the wall beside him. “Well, I mean, I’m not, but I…” You stammer when you can’t find the words. You gesture wildly with your hands. “I do think you’re talented, it’s just— It’s hard for me to be serious, okay? But I am sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, tossing the cigarette to the ground and snuffing the ash with his sneaker. “Trust me. I know what you mean.”

You swallow hard. “And I wasn’t… What I said to you that night, in your van after the show… I wasn’t lying.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. He blinks at you with a gaping gaze, even though you’re not looking at him to see it. You’re much more focused on the dumpster across the street, lest you meet his eyes and get embarrassed all over again.

This is the realest you’ve ever been with him, you think — since you told him you liked him and he all but turned you down.

Being vulnerable has been impossible since then.

“Then why’d you never talk to me about it again?” he asks, then stammers over himself. “You acted like it never even happened— I thought I fucking— like, dreamt it or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t say anything back! I thought you didn’t feel the same way!”

“I was just— I was just shocked. You always act like you hate me!”

“Because I like you, you idiot!” you blurt before you mean to, then huff with impatience at yourself. “Fuck. Sorry. I don’t know… I don’t know how to be nice to people I like.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie laughs, shifting on the brick wall until his shoulder rubs against it. He looks down at you like he’s seeing you for the very first time — glittering with the hope of finally getting close to you, of finally having something real.

“Don’t laugh!” you argue. “I’m trying really hard here!”

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, leaning in until you can taste the nicotine on his breath. In a honeyed tone, he confesses, “It’s a good thing I like you mean, then, huh?”

Your heart lurches into your throat. He smirks when you freeze, and knocks his shoulder against yours when he heads back into the diner.

The game of cat and mouse continues.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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too-much-tma-stuff · 3 months

Text

Finally getting help (prt 9)

Masterpost

“So where’s the brother?” Jason asked as he followed Bruce down the hall.

“He’s in Tim’s lab. It seems like they’ll be able to share it, which is good even with as big as this place is I don’t think we have room for two mad science labs,” Bruce said with dry humour, making Jason laugh in spite of himself.

“Tim must be thrilled to have a buddy huh?” He asked, still chuckling. No one in this family was stupid by any means, he often felt like the dumb one and objectively he knew he was still a fucking genius. But even with all of them being That smart no one could keep up with Tim’s innovative and scientific mind.

“I think he might even learn a few things, which is a frightening concept. Danny asked for microwaves and toasters this morning so he could cannibalize them into anti-possession tech. The way that boy combines science and magic is going to give both me and Constantine ulcers.”

Jason snorted, both at the joke and maybe a bit out of pleasure that someone was going to be giving Bruce a hard time. “Well if you need a babysitter don’t call me. I don’t want to deal with any of that,” he chuckled.

“Oh absolutely not, you would only feed into the chaos,” Bruce said quickly making Jason cackle, because he was right.

“Alright,” Bruce murmured to himself when they reached the closed door to the lab, it was almost lost in the banging inside but Jason heard it. Heard Bruce bracing himself for whatever was going to happen when Jason and Danny met.

He opened the door and across the room Jason saw who must be Danny. He was prime adoption bait with his black hair and blue eyes, but he was… absolutely beautiful, slight and elven, gently curved and wired with muscle. Jason froze, and it seemed so did Danny, staring at each other from across the room. Butterflies fluttered in Jason’s stomach, building till they didn’t feel like butterflies but something buzzing, trying to get out. He could hear the growl coming from his chest, not his throat.

Danny’s eyes swirled with green and he vaulted over the work table, abandoning the half finished tech he was working on to lunge at Jason. He collided with Jason with a snarl of his own, Jason growled and flipped Danny over his shoulder, the hall was a closed space so Danny twisted, running into the wall feet first and landing in a crouch. Jason twisted so he didn’t have his back to a wall anymore as Danny lunged at him again and Jason dodged, pushing off the wall to give himself momentum as he threw himself after Danny.

Danny grabbed Jason’s arm and used his momentum to throw him over his hip, following him down to the ground, barely missing as Jason rolled away. He didn’t even think to draw a weapon, that wasn’t what this fight was about, they weren’t actually trying to hurt each other. Even as Jason punched down so hard he cracked the floor he somehow knew Danny would dodge, and wouldn’t get hurt. And Danny did, he got out of the way and lashed out in return, kicking Jason in the chest and sending him flying a few feet back giving Danny time to scramble back to his feet and chase after him.

This give and take carried them down the hall and to the landing by the stairs. Somewhere in the background Jason knew that someone was shouting at them to stop, and to be careful, but he wasn’t listening. He was too focussed on the growl emanating from Danny, and from himself which were starting to smooth out again, to feel less like desperate insects trying to escape and more like a cat’s purr, or some sort of song. They were reaching equilibrium, some sort of harmony.

He didn’t realize how close they were to the stairs until Danny knocked him back again and this time when he stepped back he didn’t land on solid ground. The two of them tumbled down the stairs, rapidly switching who was on top as they fell. Jason could feel himself collecting bruises but he didn’t fucking care.

They came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs with Jason on top, his forearm pressed against Danny’s chest just below his throat. They were both breathing hard, staring at each other with wide blue-green eyes. The growling died down, lowering down into purrs harmonizing with each other as they caught their breath. Jason’s was lower and Danny’s a little higher, it was a hypnotic sound that made Jason feel… peaceful.

Danny moved first, reaching up slowly to touch Jason’s face, but before he could Jason realized what they had done and the position he was in. He had fought with Danny, and he was now pinning an abused teenager to the floor straddling his waist. This looked bad and now that he realized what was happening it Felt worse! He practically shot up off of Danny and was about to bolt before Danny grabbed his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet! Let me just, let me get you a specter-deflector so no one can possess you first okay?” Danny asked, sounding oddly desperate and even though Jason wanted to run he nodded.

Danny looked relieved and let go of Jason before suddenly flying up and through the floor above them. Jason blinked at the ceiling above him before looking around him.

Oh dear, Bruce, Tim, Damian, and Jazz were all watching from the landing above. Damian looked like he wanted to kill Jason himself, Bruce looked disappointed, Tim impassive and Jazz looked… Excited? Why did she look happy?

Danny flew back down through the floor before anyone could think of what to say. “Okay! Here’s the specter-deflector,” He said, clicking something that looked like a watch into place around Jason’s wrist. “That’ll protect you, this is a blaster,” he said, handing Jason an odd sci-fi looking gun. “It’ll reload automatically from ambient ectoplasm, it works best against dead and undead but it can hurt humans too. And.. um, this is my number,” He said, blushing furiously as he handed Jason a slip of paper. “Please text me?”

When had Jason’s mouth gotten so dry?! He had to lick his lips before he answered, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks were and that he must be blushing too. He didn’t blush much, not since his death and resurrection, but he was absolutely blushing now, and he was still purring too if more softly now. He didn’t even know that he could purr, not really. “Ya, Yes, I’ll text you,” he promised before he fled the house. He would have to have some of Alfred’s lasagna later, just then he desperately needed to calm down and clear his head.

-----

Jazz was practically vibrating with excitement and as soon as the door had closed behind Jason she couldn’t contain it anymore. She squealed as she vaulted over the railing of the landing and landed in the foyer and sprinting over to Danny. “Danny what the heck! You have a crush?! I haven’t seen you that passionate in ages!” She enthused scooping Danny up under his arms and twirling him around.

“Jaaazz,” Danny complained even as he went kitten limp in her arms letting her hold him at arms length nearly a foot off the floor.

“I didn’t even know you liked boys! Why didn’t you tell me you like boys!?” Jazz demanded, shaking him a little.

“I didn’t really, I mean I always preferred girls. The only guy I ever really had a crush on was Dash and-” He cut off when Jazz made a disgusted face. “Exactly! That was never going to happen and he was an asshole so I didn’t want to talk about it!”

“Okay ya I understand- Wait you were making fun of me for having a thing for bad boys when your type is asshole meathead jocks!? Ohhh you’re never going to hear the end of this baby brother!”

“Oh my god No!” Danny groaned, finally squirming out of Jazz’s hold and dropping back to the ground stepping back.

He turned towards the Wayne’s who had made their way down the stairs while the siblings were talking. “Is Jason an asshole?” He demands of Tim, he’s probably the fairest judge in Danny’s estimation.

“Absolutely,” Tim said promptly before realizing what he said and backtracking a little. “But I’m his brother, I'm supposed to say that. Jason’s heart is in the right place, he's a good guy, just kinda violent and a complete jerk,” Tim said.

“Perfect,” Danny said his expression a little dreamy.

“Why on earth would you have a crush on Todd?! You could do so much better!” Damian squawked indignantly, breaking the tension and making everyone besides Bruce laugh, and even he smiled just a little.

“I want to say you did well Bruce, I know it was hard not to break up the fight but so? It was good for them, I hope it won’t be too hard on you if they do end up dating,” Jazz said, patting Bruce’s arm.

He shifted from one foot to the other a little awkwardly but then shook his head. “No it won’t be, I mean it won’t be the first time, Barbra was as good as my daughter and she dated Dick, and Steph and Tim dated. It’s always a little awkward but I’d rather that than a Super,” He said, shooting Tim a look, he cleared his throat and looked away.

“Well good, we’ll see how this works out but really,” she turned back towards Danny. “This could be good! You’ve always been attracted to violent people but I don’t think that your ghost instincts realized that when Val was shooting at you it wasn’t bonding for her the same way it was for you,” she told him, her tone borderline accusatory.

Danny looked down and shifted from side to side, giving a little shrug. “I know, but she was a good girlfriend, when she wasn’t being Red Huntress and I wasn’t being Phantom. When we were just Danny and Val, it was good.”

“Oh Danny,” She sighed and pulled him into a hug. “I know, but he has the same instincts as you, I’m rooting for you Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz,” Danny said softly, hugging her back.

“Welp, I’m heading back to the lab,” Tim said, obviously uncomfortable with the genuine emotions he made a break for it before he could get roped into any hugs.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #fanfiction #dead on main #jason todd #finally getting help au #Danny is pregnant #trans!Danny #vlad is a creep #bruce wayne #jazz fenton #damian wayne #tim drake #multi part fic #long post #unedited #let me know if you find any mistakes

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donatellawritings · 3 months

Note

i think if rafe was dating a girl who had a oral fixation he would let her suck his dick or fingers to get rid of the habit of her putting other things in her mouth 🎀

you couldn’t help that you’d subconsciously end up with things in your mouth — whether you were biting down into chewy skin of your plump bottom lips, or mindlessly chewing on your acrylic nails, it kept your mind preoccupied. despite being a catalyst for all things pure and kind, you had your fair share of anxious moments, more often than not. rafe had caught on to how you’d bite the skin of your inner cheek when you were deep on thought, or how the tip of your cocktail straw would be left mauled from the onslaught of your sharp teeth, way after you’d finished your drink. i mean, he was even painfully aware to how you’d grind your teeth while you slept.

rafe lazily scratched at your scalp as the two of you laid on the bed, the morning news playing lowly from the tv as you laid with your head against rafe’s bare chest. a small yawn escaped your lips as you brought your thumb to your mouth, setting your acrylic nail between your top and bottom set of teeth. your lightly scraped your teeth against your nail for a few seconds, before the sensation of rafe’s hand patting your bare ass, ripped you from your trance.

“cut it out, y’gonna mess up those pretty nails,” he scolded blankly, pressing his lips to the top of your messy bedhead as he gently pulled your thumb from your overly eager mouth, earning a low huff from you, “i dunno why you get your nails done, just to fuck them up,” he comments, raising your hand to his view as he carefully examine the now chipped gel polish that was scraped from your nail.

you sighed sleepily with a curt shrug, “i get these, so i don’t bite my actual nails — it hurts if i bite too deep, papi” you mumbled, your curling closer into rafe’s side with a mischievous smirk, before softly biting into his chest. your sweet laugh vibrated against rafe’s skin as you bit into him once more, smiling cheesily at the sight of of your teeth imprint in his smooth golden skin.

rafe waits until you finish your assault on his chest, random hisses coming from him as you bite down harder and harder into his skin, nearly drawing blood, “a’ight mama, y’gonna make me bleed” he sighs, bringing his hand to comfortably grab ahold of your jaw, your swollen lips stretched into a giddy smile as rafe glances at your lips, seeing how you’ve nearly chewed them raw. “we gotta get you some gum or some shit, you’re always chewing on something,” he decides, lightly mushing your cheeks together with his barely-there grip on your jaw.

with a shrug, you pulled your face out of rafe’s hold, grabbing ahold of two of his long fingers as you glanced at your boyfriend with needy eyes, parting your pouty lips as you licked a long wet stripe up his fingers. rafe watched closely through hooded eyes as you continued licking at him, before he decided to speak. fuck, you could bring this man to his knees and you didn’t even realize it.

“y’want my fingers in your mouth, princess?” he asked, his voice carrying a condescending tone as you nodded furiously, eager to suck on rafe’s rings. your wet cunt ached at the thought of your tongue lazily lapping at his gold ring. rafe gently tapped your jaw, allowing you to open your wet and inviting mouth as he slid his fingers onto your tongue, allowing your slick, spit-covered lips to close around his signet ring.

now content, you hummed happily as you laid back against rafe’s chest, his fingers remained in your warm mouth as you allowed your preoccupied mind to rest. every now and again, you’d lazily suckle and nibble at the tips of his fingers as you lulled yourself into a mild sleep. rafe attempted to pull his fingers from your mouth, once he assumed you were asleep, earning a displeased groan from you as you snuggled yourself further against him.

pressing a kiss to the top of your head, rafe let out a sigh of defeat into your messy hair, “hopefully that puts your ass to sleep, y’been at it all morning,” he commented, making a mental note to ask if you’d rather keep his cock in your mouth when you woke up.

#anon #asks #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx #obx imagine #sweetheart!reader

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golden-cherry · 5 months

Text

deal - cl16 (21/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The truth comes under purple skies.

Warnings: angst, but mostly tooth rotting fluff because you deserve it

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: a little late happy birthday to me! sorry for the wait. I love you.

Although you keep your eyes closed, you know that it is still dark outside.

The air in the room is cool against your face, while your tired body is kept comfortably warm under the heavy comforter. It is just as warm against the free, uncovered parts of your body as Charles' soft skin.

His arm is wrapped around your middle, his fingers are tightly intertwined with yours and his thumb strokes gentle circles over your hand. A tender, loving gesture that you're not sure whether it's meant to calm your nerves or his own.

You haven't changed your positions in bed since you fell asleep pressed tightly together a few hours ago. Charles's chest is still pressed against your back and if you were to focus on it, you could certainly feel his heart beating hard and steady. But you don't. Your thoughts revolve around breathing as normally as possible so that it still looks like you're asleep.

You don't want to be awake.

Being awake would involve thinking, and you definitely don't want to think about the last few days. You don't want to think about how Charles told you that you would jump into bed with Lando at the next opportunity. You don't want to think about Raphael coming to your front door last night and calling you a whore. And you don't want to be reminded that Charles jumped to your side and defended you without so much as batting an eye.

All you want right now is to lie here, in his strong arms, wrapped in his scent and warmth. Deep down, you know you can't be angry with him. Lando's words flit through your head again and again about how you both want to protect each other, and even though you've only known each other for a few days, you can tell Charles so well that it's exactly this part of him that makes him who he is.

But you still don't know why he treated you like that.

You breathe in deeply, take in his scent - a mixture of sandalwood, peppermint and a smell that you can only describe as Charles - and press your face into the soft pillow. Although you had been furious with him, you had missed his closeness over the last few days.

The thumb that has been tenderly drawing figures on your hand pauses.

"I'm sorry." Charles' voice is little more than a whisper against your shoulder blade. As his warm breath brushes over you, your muscles tighten. "No apology in this world can make up for what I did to you. I betrayed your trust, hurt you, and left you thinking I didn't care about you." When you don't answer him, he continues. "I am so incredibly sorry. And I won't ask for your forgiveness or kindness, because I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. And I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."

Your heart beats so fast against your ribcage that you fear it will break your bones and jump out of your chest. His touch feels like your skin is burning. When you open your eyes, you see purple clouds in the morning sky through the window.

Carefully, you turn in his arms, whereupon his embrace loosens a little, but his arm remains on your hip. His eyes are closed, as if he doesn't dare to look into your face. His eyebrows are furrowed and there are a few wrinkles between them that you would love to smooth out with your fingers.

You decide to run your fingers over his bare shoulders. His muscles twitch under your fingertips. "Why did you do it?" Charles remains silent, so you tentatively place your hand against his cheek. You feel his stubble scratch your skin as he exhales deeply, as if he hasn't taken a decent breath in a long time.

He opens his eyes and there is an anxious gleam in the otherwise beautiful green. His gaze searches yours as he nuzzles his face against your hand. "I was jealous."

Jealous?

A small glimmer of hope flares up inside you. Maybe everything you've experienced together - the viewpoint, your movie night, the bookstore, the tiramisu - is based on something other than friendship. On something more. Maybe there was more to every conversation, every look and every smile than just the friendship you nailed down to protect your heart. Maybe you were just talking past each other the whole time. Maybe –

"I was jealous of how well you got on with Lando. I thought that if you got to know each other better and became more than just friends, then we wouldn't be friends anymore. I thought -" He pauses for a moment. "I couldn't bear it if I lost you because of your relationship."

You try to suppress the punch in the pit of your stomach and swallow the frog in your throat. "You hurt me and pushed me away because you didn't want to get hurt yourself?" Your heart breaks a little for him. You finally smooth out the wrinkles between his eyebrows with your thumb. His arm wraps around you tighter and presses you together. His fingers stroke your back and goose bumps spread across your body.

That's exactly what Lando said. That Charles pushes the people he cares about away to protect himself. Something you can well understand, after all, you were planning to do the same to him. Only not so drastically.

But Lando also told you something else about the Monegasque. "But that's not all, is it?" An image flickers in your mind's eye of Raphael holding out his hand to introduce himself to Charles. "You didn't just want to protect yourself. Or am I wrong, Charles Leclerc?"

As you say his name, a shiver jerks through his body, as if he's suddenly cold, and his hand freezes against your spine. "You're not." His tone is cooler, more distant than it was a few moments ago, and the tension in the room is palpable despite the purple clouds and morning calm as you place your hand on his bare chest. His heart is beating fast and strong.

"I - I think we both rushed into this friendship far too quickly." You try to put as much warmth into your whisper as you can, even though deep down your heart has caught quite a tear. "We've known each other for five days. And so much has happened in that time that takes some friends years. Our trust in each other went from zero to one hundred." You run your finger over his collarbone, your gaze following him.

Panting, he sucks air into his lungs at your touch. "What do you suggest?"

You purse your lips. "Maybe - maybe we should get to know each other better first. Get to know each other properly so that this doesn't happen again. So that our living together is easier."

Charles tightens his grip around your middle, his legs tangle with yours. "Living together? Does that mean you're staying with me?"

You nod slightly, but grab your arm with your hand to pull away from him. Something flits across his face, but as quickly as it came, it's gone again as you place his hand between your faces on the pillows. "But maybe a little distance will do us good. So we don't mess this up."

His fingers interlace with yours. "I'll do everything I can to make this work."

"That makes two of us," you smile, missing his touch on your body. You miss the warmth pulsing through your veins under your skin. But it's the right thing to do. At least that's what you try to tell yourself. You take a deep breath. "I - I'm unemployed, by the way." You look down at your hands. "I was fired from this magazine before we met. I'm looking for a new job so that I can continue to live in Monaco, because my savings won't last forever. That's why I'm so grateful to you for standing up for me with Joris. About the rent. I can't thank you enough for that."

"But you don't have to," he replies quietly. "Friends help each other. They're there for each other. I can understand why you didn't tell me. Nobody likes to talk about the fact that they've recently lost their job."

"Thank you," you whisper back. You feel a weight fall from your shoulders. You suddenly find it easier to breathe. But now it's something else that's plaguing your thoughts.

And no one but Charles can give you the answer. "Can you please explain to me what happened yesterday? With - with Raphael?"

The Monegasque briefly lets go of your hand so that he can play with your fingers. He doesn't look at you. "Do you remember the night we watched Cars together?"

You nod. How could you forget that night? The wine, the movie, the flirting that apparently wasn't flirting. Ouch.

"We talked about Formula One and how you used to watch it with your grandfather when Michael Schuhmacher drove for Ferrari." His gaze is literally glued to your fingers. "When we first met, I told you that my work had something to do with cars, and I wasn't lying."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. If he's a mechanic or engineer for one of the racing teams, that woiuld explain why he has to travel so much for work. "Is that where all the cool photos on your phone come from? Because you fly across the globe with Formula 1 to work on the cars?"

Your flatmate purses his lips. "I don't work on the cars. I - I drive them." He licks his lips once. "I'm a Formula One driver for Scuderia Ferrari."

"Don't fuck with me," you reply, wanting to pull your fingers out of his grasp. But he holds on to them and when he lifts his gaze and looks you in the eyes, you know he's telling the truth. And his confession makes you see the last few days from a different perspective.

The conversation between Charles and Joris, shortly after he suddenly appeared in the apartment, pops up in your mind. "When we met, that night - you were on the phone with Joris. You said something about headlines."

He nods slightly. "A few weeks ago, the season ended and Annika and I broke up. I stayed away from here as long as I could because I didn't want to be confronted with it. And when I got to my apartment for emergencies, there you were. With a valid tenancy agreement. I couldn't just throw you out the door. You could have gone public and then it would have made the headlines. Something like "Charles Leclerc throws poor woman out of rented apartment". It was a risk I couldn't take." He furrows his eyebrows again, but this time you hold back.

"You have a nutritionist."

Again he nods. "For the races, I have to follow a strict diet to make the car go faster. Unfortunately, pasta and thick sandwiches aren't part of it, so please don't tell him."

Fragments of the last few days appear one after the other in your mind's eye, which you try to sort out and work through. "The bistro you went to after the bookshop had already closed, hadn't it?"

"Yes. But when do you ever have a Formula One driver on your doorstep who needs two sandwiches?" He shrugs. "One photo and we've had our dinner."

You lick your tongue over your lips and you don't miss the way Charles' eyes twitch to your mouth. "We went everywhere in my car. Why?"

"You've seen my car." He's referring to the fancy Ferrari in the parking garage. "With its stripes, it's not exactly inconspicuous. Especially since everyone knows the car is mine." He runs his thumb over the side of your index finger. "As soon as the car rolls down the street, everyone knows it's me. And everyone takes photos of it. I couldn't risk you getting caught up in all this because of a stupid car. And especially not because you couldn't choose it until now. Your sweet tin can was the only way we could get around the city together without attracting attention."

You clench your jaw. "The meetings in Italy. What about it?"

"The headquarters are there, in Maranello. Before the winter break, the team wanted to get together again and discuss what went wrong this season and what we can improve."

"And you could just leave like that?" you ask him.

He shakes his head. "Not really. But in my opinion, there wasn't much to talk about either. The season was a throwaway." He shrugs his shoulders. "I was actually a little relieved when Lando called and asked me to go home."

So you were right. The Brit did call Charles. "And what did he say?"

"Exactly what I needed to hear." He smiles slightly. "He threw a lot of swear words at me and made it clear that I'd be the stupidest idiot in the world if I screwed up this friendship."

You don't know what to do with this information. The fact that Lando called Charles and made a slug out of him doesn't bother you much, because the Monegasque needed the push. But there's also something about the fact that Charles didn't come up with the idea of straightening things out himself. That one of his friends had to step in for you first so that he would get off his butt and stand up for this friendship. That Lando -

"What about Lando? And Pierre? And Kika? Are they part of Formula One too?"

Charles purses his lips into a thin line. "Lando and Pierre are also drivers. Kika is a model."

Bile rises in your gullet as you release your hand from his and turn onto your back, closing your eyes. Everyone knew, they even work in the same field, and no one thought to let you in on it. The whole thing could have gone down the drain. People could have recognized you both, taken photos of you and spread the word.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I -" Charles exhales. "I was just scared."

"Scared? Of what?"

"My job - my name - brings a lot with it. A lot of good things, like seeing the world, getting to know cultures and not having to worry about things like money. But there are also negative things, like a lot of pressure, fake friends, no privacy." He also turns onto his back. "I don't want you to choose something you don't want because of my name. I thought - I thought if we stayed in our little bubble, our little world, that - I don't know. It was just nice to have someone as a friend who wanted to be friends with me because I'm Charles. And not because I'm Charles Leclerc."

You have to smile. "Actually, I'm only friends with you so that I can live with you and save on rent."

"Haha."

You clasp your hands behind your head. "I can understand, I think. That you have to be careful who you surround yourself with. And that there are a lot of people who only use you because you're you. It sounds very lonely."

Charles snorts softly. "It can definitely be lonely."

"Then let me assure you that I don't want to be friends with you because of your money or your name."

"But?"

"Do you really need reasons?"

"It certainly wouldn't hurt my ego," you can practically hear his grin.

"All right," you reply. "I want to be friends with you because you're kind and considerate of your friends' feelings. Because you trusted me with your favorite place, even though you didn't know me. Because you introduced me to your friends because you thought it was inevitable anyway if our friendship strengthened." You take a deep breath and exhale. "I want to be friends with you because you're funny and make me laugh. Because you have a big heart. Because -"

A feeling bubbles up inside you. You've felt it before - the day after your movie night, when you were reviewing the evening. In the not entirely innocent dream you had about Charles. And when you shared the bed after the bookshop.

It's warm, like a warm blanket, strong like a good hug and bright like Charles' eyes when the sun shines on his face. Charles is not just your roommate. Or your friend. Charles is so much more. Charles is your home.

Before you can complete the sentence, the Monegasque interrupts you. "That's good. That's good enough for me, thank you." He smiles. "It's nice to have you as a friend. Even if I don't deserve it, the way I've treated you."

"Mm-hmm."

"Maybe you should sleep on it one more night and then decide if you really want it. There's so much more that comes with a friendship with me." When you yawn, he has to laugh. "You see? Maybe you're not even able to think straight right now. And then I push you into a friendship that you don't even want."

"I'm sure," you reply tiredly and you notice how your eyes get heavier.

"But -"

Before he can finish his sentence, you reach for his hand and interlace his fingers with yours. You try to ignore the fact that this makes your heart beat faster. "I'm sure of it. Believe me."

When you gently squeeze his fingers twice, he replies with the same gesture. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to find out," you smile and as you yawn again, Charles pulls you closer to him. Like a magnet, you slide across the bed towards him, unable to resist as your face finds its place against the crook of his neck.

He lets go of your hand, but only to wrap his arm around you. His hand rests on the bare skin of your hip, while his other hand pulls your leg over him so that you're half lying on top of him. You are enveloped by him, fully and completely, and as you place your hand on his bare chest, you feel his heartbeat under your fingertips.

You try to convince yourself that it's not beating for you, but as you snuggle even closer to him and your lips touch the soft skin on his neck, you feel it skip a beat. But maybe you're just imagining it.

"I'll be better from now on," he whispers and tentatively presses a kiss to your forehead. Goosebumps spread all over your body, but not because you're cold like he thinks, which is why his arm presses you even tighter against him. "I don't want there to be another moment when you doubt how important you are to me, mon amour."

"You can teach me a little French," you reply. "Then you can hide less from me if I speak your mother tongue too," you joke.

Charles feels your smile on his neck and he is glad that you can't see the blush on his face.

"Anything you want. I'll go to the other side of the world for you if I have to."

"But not until tomorrow, all right?" You gently caress his chest with your fingertips and Charles draws in a sharp breath. "Now it's time to sleep. And don't you dare steal my blanket in the night."

Charles would love to pull you on top of him, kiss you and promise you that you're safe with him and that he won't let anything happen to you. But he holds back, just lets his fingers dance over your skin.

He promises in the purple morning light. "Deal."

next part

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puck-luck · 23 days

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a new birthday tradition | jack hughes

warnings: extreme domination, spanking, spit kink, cockwarming, hair pulling, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, degradation (a bit), established!relationship pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader summary: fem!reader proposes a new birthday tradition to jack (based on the request: "jack hughes spanking and spit kink pls") wc: 2787

“Birthday boy,” you sing-song, tracing Jack’s nose.

Your touch rouses Jack from his nap. He was sleeping on the couch, waiting for you to come home from work, having fallen asleep from boredom. It’s normal for Jack to fall asleep in the middle of the day, so this little touch has become part of your everyday routine.

“Hi, babydoll,” you greet when Jack blinks his way awake.

He finds you in his eyeline and sighs, the corners of his lips turning up. “Hi,” he says, voice thick with drowsiness.

“You know what I was thinking about today?” You ask, smoothing back Jack’s hair. He nuzzles his face into your palm, dropping a kiss onto your skin.

“What?”

“There’s a birthday tradition that I thought you might like.” You wiggle your eyebrows. “I was thinking we’d put a little twist on it.”

Jack cocks his head to the side. “What is it?” He asks, voice wary. He immediately thinks of the first time Quinn told him that his birthday cake smelled like something but he couldn’t figure out what, and Jack leaned down to take a sniff, and Quinn shoved his head into the frosting. He’d rather eat a birthday cake than shove his face into it.

You drop your head so you’re whispering in his ear. “Birthday spankings.”

Jack pulls away from you, looking affronted. “You’re not spanking me.”

You roll your eyes. “Duh, dummy,” you drawl. “When have I ever been the one to spank you? Obviously, you get to spank me. One for every year you’ve been alive, plus one for luck.”

“Oh,” Jack replies. “Yeah, that could be fun.”

You roll your eyes for a second time. “Could you be less enthusiastic about it? You love my ass. You love spanking me. ‘Yeah, that could be fun?’”

Jack shrugs. “I prefer to spank you when you’re being a brat. This is, like, a gift.”

You blanch. You stare at him. Jack stares back. You blink at him slowly and set your jaw, your mouth straightening into an annoyed line. Wordlessly, you rise from the couch and pull your blouse over your head, drawing Jack’s eyes to your lacy red bra and the swell of your breasts. His hands twitch in his lap and he raises one to set it on your hip, to pull you back down to him, but you step out of reach.

“Where’s your sling?” You ask, toeing off your shoes and kicking them away.

“In the bedroom where I left it,” Jack says, snarky. He hates the sling. The angle causes his arm to fall asleep and he hates the numbness. It’s not like he’s moving his shoulder or hurting it any more– he’s going to rehab and PT, working with the best trainers in the NHL. He doesn’t want to wear his dreaded sling on his birthday.

You take off to the bedroom, returning shortly after with Jack’s sling. You hold it out to him with an expectant look on your face.

Jack groans, but puts it on nonetheless. He glares at you once his arm is properly situated in his sling, his arm already prickling with discomfort. “You know I only have to wear this thing for like two more weeks,” he points out begrudgingly. “And the doctors said I don’t have to wear it all the time.”

You unbutton your pants and lower them, again drawing Jack’s eyes to the matching red thong you wore today, planning for him to see you like this. “That doesn’t mean you can take it off whenever you want,” you tell him. “We decided that you’d wear it when you weren’t doing anything. You’re sitting on the couch. You’re not doing anything.”

“I was napping.”

“‘I was napping,’” you repeat, mocking him. “What if you had laid on your arm wrong and set yourself back a few weeks?”

Jack’s nostrils flare at your words. “I didn’t.”

“Yeah, but you could have rolled over in your sleep. I don’t want you to have to miss out on pre-season stuff because you were reckless with your shoulder, Jack.”

“I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I’m also not a child, I know when I’m pushing myself too much. You’re being overbearing.”

“I’m trying to take care of you.”

“You’re acting like I’m helpless. I’m not fucking helpless just because I had surgery.”

You rejoin Jack on the couch and his eyes find your cleavage again, but he tears his gaze away from your breasts in order to continue this argument.

“You’re the one who pouts about your shoulder whenever I’m around to try and get attention from me. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too,” you argue.

With each one of your statements, you play Jack like a fiddle. He said it was easier to spank you when you were acting like a brat, so act like a brat you will.

“Yeah, but you know when I’m just trying to get attention. You play into it every time, don’t act like you don’t enjoy it.”

“You’re so fucking stubborn.”

Jack glares at you. “You only say that because you’re losing this argument.”

You lean forward, “accidentally” pushing your breasts together for Jack to see. He gulps, eyes flickering down then back up to your face. He tries to steel his face, but doesn’t do a great job.

“I’m not losing this argument,” you scoff. “You know I’m right. You’re just being difficult because you hate the sling. If I called your doctors right now, they’d tell us that you need to wear the sling more often.”

You move forward again, this time crawling over Jack’s lap until you’re sprawled over him completely, ass up for him to see.

Jack’s free hand palms one of your cheeks, resting on the skin. His thumb barely touches the lace of your thong where the fabric disappears.

You throw a glance over your shoulder and offer Jack a dazzling, smug smile. “Was that bratty enough for you?”

It dawns on Jack that you’ve goaded him into this, his hand itching to teach you a lesson still, even though it was a fake argument. He grins, letting out a little laugh. His head drops with the laugh and he pats your ass, frustratingly gentle.

“You got me, huh?” He asks.

“You’re so easy,” You reply, giggling.

Jack slaps your ass for that, barely a spank.

“That's one,” you tease. “Twenty two more.”

Jack closes his eyes and tries to bite back a smile. He tilts his head back, resting it on the back of the sofa. “Plus one for luck,” he adds. “Don’t forget that one.”

“Oh, how could I forget,” you say. You raise your hips and wiggle them invitingly, drawing Jack’s eyes. “You should punish me for it.”

Jack brings his hand down on your ass again, harder this time. “So annoying.”

“That’s two.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jack laughs, bringing his hand down again.

You don’t– you continue to count and moan and each time you make noise, Jack spanks you again. His hand moves more harshly with each drop. Your skin slowly grows more and more red, starting to match your red underwear. It grows sore, but Jack doesn’t stop spanking you until he reaches the 24th. You’re a moaning mess, whining and squirming in Jack’s lap, eyes wet with unshed tears by the time Jack blows cool air over your skin. All of your wiggling over his lap caused him to grow hard while administering his birthday spankings, and he knows that if he brought his fingers down to your cunt, he’d find that you’re soaking through your panties.

Jack pulls you up but the straps of your bra, the elastic snapping back against your skin when he lets go. You arch your back and whimper, climbing onto Jack’s lap to straddle him.

Jack smiles, wiping the wetness from your eyes with his thumb. “How do you feel, pretty girl?” He asks, bringing his thumb down to toy with your bottom lip. He moves it and, like a puppeteer, mimics your voice to speak for you. “So good, you always give me exactly what I need, I love you soooo much, Jacky.”

You laugh wetly, pushing his hand away. “You’re such a loser.”

Jack furrows his brow, humming in a disapproving way. “Now that’s just mean. Maybe I should spank you some more.”

You pout, glaring at Jack. “Yeah, and make me bleed? I don't think so.”

“How about this,” Jack muses. “Wanna give me another present?”

You nod, fingers tracing his clavicle.

“Get on your knees.”

Jack helps you down, kneeling prettily between his legs. You sit back on your heels and look up at your boyfriend, waiting for his next move.

“Go ahead and take me out, honey,” Jack encourages, lifting his hips so you can work his shorts and underwear down his legs. His cock springs up and bounces back, pretty and weeping from his arousal. You go to take him in your mouth, but Jack stops you. “No, no. Warm me. I'm gonna watch a little TV and if you’re good, I’ll fuck your throat.”

You melt, feeling yourself grow so warm and wet that you might honestly drip onto the floor if you get any more turned on. You go to take Jack’s cock in your mouth, but he stops you again, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. You look into his gaze for a moment before his eyes drop to your mouth. You open your mouth, waiting for Jack to feed you his cock instead of taking it yourself.

Instead, he drops a line of spit onto your tongue and closes your mouth. You swallow, eyes wide and blinking up at him. It’s humiliating and so good, making your head a little foggy and your knees spread a little wider.

Jack’s eyes find your knees against the floor, your wet cunt. He purses his lips, smiling with his tongue against his front teeth, looking devilish. He knocks a pillow to the floor with his slinged arm, eyes hooded and daring.

“Pick that up,” he tells you.

You move like a machine, grabbing the pillow and ready to put it back up on the couch, to cushion his injured arm. Jack uses said arm to block you.

“Why don’t you put that between your legs,” Jack suggests, voice bored. When your eyes go wide and you freeze, staring up at him, Jack smirks. His voice drops, low and seductive. “I see how wet you are, baby. I’m giving you something to grind against while you warm me. It might not be my cock, but it’ll be good enough, right?”

You could come on the spot, feeling lost. With aborted movements, you place the pillow between your knees and press down on it, eyes fluttering at the friction.

“Good girl,” Jack praises. He fists his cock and taps the head of it against your lips. “Open up, baby. Let me take that dirty mouth.”

He thrusts his cock into your mouth, waiting until your throat adjusts around him to grab the remote and flick on the TV.

You stare up at him, breathing through your nose. You rest your head on his thigh, the downy hair of his legs tickling your skin. You crinkle your nose, but keep your mouth fastened around Jack’s cock. Jack smiles down at you before turning his attention to the TV, placing a hand on your head and running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly.

He knows what happens when he tangles his hands in your hair, especially when his cock is in your mouth. It drives you to start moving your hips against the pillow, eyes fluttering when the seam of the pillow catches against your clit. You’re trying to keep your head still around his cock, but it’s hard to do when you’re chasing your own release.

Jack’s fingers tighten around your hair, tugging at the roots. You moan around him, the vibrations traveling up his cock.

“You can’t even last five minutes before you move, huh, baby?” Jack asks. He puts on a mask of disappointment, spurring you on when you open your eyes and plead with him.

Your hips move faster, the pillow good but not quite enough to satisfy you. You whine, blinking up at Jack. Still trying not to move your mouth, you flex your tongue against him.

Jack licks his lips, eyes trailing up and down your body. He’s taking you in, the way your cheeks are flushed and your hands are grasping the pillow beneath you, the way your hips are dragging in tilted bursts, trying to maintain the pleasure of your clit hitting the item between your legs. Jack bites his lip as he looks at the wet stain that you’ve left on the pillow.

He gathers your hair into a ponytail, twisting the locks in his hand and pulling. You let out a cry of pleasure, losing track of your volume, too overcome with pleasure. Jack’s pull tips you toward orgasm, your hole flexing around nothing and feeling neglected and empty.

“Jack,” you moan, his name garbled around his cock.

The uninterested look in Jack’s eyes contrasts the slight smile on his lips as he pushes his hips forward into your mouth, then pulls back. He starts to fuck you slowly, but quickly loses his control when you bring one of your hands up to his thigh, fingernails digging into his skin.

His lip curls with a hiss, his pace increasing. You’re a mess, completely desperate beneath him. Your eyes are shining with tears as Jack uses your throat, his thrusts harsh and completely self-indulgent. You gag around him, your throat constricting, and Jack growls. He pushes your head down, your nose brushing against his pelvis and he releases into your mouth with a groan. His come paints your throat with white spurts and Jack uses his grip on your hair to pull you off of him.

A line of spit connects your mouth to his tip and Jack watches your eyes grow heavy, sated, when you swallow his come.

“Gonna come for me?” Jack asks.

Your eyes find his and you nod.

Jack tilts your head up and you open your mouth, showing him that you swallowed every drop that he awarded you. Jack spits a thick wad onto your tongue again, the weight of it heavy on your muscle although, in reality, his saliva would weigh next to nothing.

The heat in his eyes and the taste of him in your throat pushes you to your peak, your hips erratic against the pillow. Your legs are shaking, trembling as you tip over the edge and release over the object between your legs. You’re boneless, quivering between Jack’s legs. He pulls you up onto his lap and coos at you, snaking a hand between your legs to rub over your clit with a teasing finger.

“Think you can give me another?”

“Jack,” You whimper out, shying away from his insistent fingers, but they just follow you and press into you wherever you go.

Jack moves yout thong to the side, burying his middle and ring finger into your pussy and flexing his fingers until you’re squealing from the contact. He pushes his thumb into your clit and you grind down, wincing from the overstimulation but unable to stop chasing the pleasure.

“Look at my baby,” Jack marvels. “So pretty, so perfect. So slutty, huh, baby? You beg me to spank you, you fuck against a pillow until you come, and now you’re taking my fingers. So greedy. I’ve spoiled you.” He curls his fingers inside of you, relishing at the whimper that he steals from your lips with each of his movements.

You come again, the heat of it washing over you. You’re helpless to it, feeling like the orgasm is just rushing through you. You shudder on Jack’s lap, your wetness dripping down his skin and onto the fabric of the couch below you. Jack draws his fingers out slowly, not to overstimulate you even further, and kisses you softly.

“Happy birthday to me, huh?” Jack asks against your lips.

You nod, voice soft. You can barely move, so comfortable on his lap, feeling his skin against yours. “Happy birthday, darling,” You agree, and kiss him again.

“Is this going to become a real birthday tradition?” Jack wiggles his eyebrows, a smug look on his face. “Me spanking you?”

You hum, considering it. “Maybe not when we’re seventy-five and wrinkly.”

“This ass?” Jack reaches behind you and squeezes. “This ass isn’t ever getting wrinkly, not on my watch.”

“Okay, Jacky,” you snort with laughter. “Whatever you say.”

notes: *in a marilyn monroe voice* happy birthday... mr. president <3

this was meant to be a blurb. a short one. for jack's birthday. it did not STAY a blurb. that's my bad. i have a tendency to go overboard. hoping y'all enjoyed!

#puck luck's fics #jack hughes #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl x reader #nhl x y/n #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #jh86 #andy writes anything🍄

512 notes · View notes

lingeriae · 8 months

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Can you do a story where y’all getting ready to fuck and then you go to give him head but he tells you no and ladies first but your confused because all your exes said giving head is gross and he shows you how different things about to be with him

Can it end with smut plz

omggggg

smut below the cut, minors pls dni!

"bro stop looking at me like that." turning away from connie's stare of disbelief as you felt yourself begining to get embarassed from the sudden confession.

connie stared at you with his pink plump lips agaped and his eyes wide, eyebrows furrowing as your words rang through his head repeatedly.

the words self-explanatory, yet he mumbled over them. shock and confusion evident on his face as he leans back to look you up and down, his tongue coming out to wet his lips that had suddenly gone dry.

he rose an eyebrow, watching you as you played with your shirt, twisting the fabric between your fingers and refusing to look up at the man infront of you.

"nah," he drawed the word out, eyebrows coming together once more, a slender finger coming up to tilt your chin so you can look him in his eye.

for some reason he was always insistent on that—always insistent on having you look him in his eyes and you never understood why, but as you get captivated momentarily by his honey coloured orbs, you decide you can understand it a little.

still doesn't stop you from getting shy and looking away though.

"you playing with me right now, ma?" your legs tremble from the intense gaze he had on you, and the deepness of his voice. face growing warm and your body feeling flushed, bottom lip suddenly trapped between your teeth as you looked up at him from beneath your lashes.

he swears it takes everything for him not to shove you against the mattress and have you shaking under him.

his fingers caress your smooth sun-kissed skin as he awaits your answer, tapping your cheek with a 'hm?' and curious eyes.

"no...it just never happened I guess." you respond timidly, looking away from him again.

it goes quiet after that, dead quiet and by the time your head can turn to look back at connie, your suddenly sprawled out against the matress. connie's hand pressed against your belly, his eyes watching how your chest heaves as you look up at him with wide, innocent eyes .

his head hurts from how pretty you are, intoxicated by how good you smell, feenin off the thought of what you would taste like.

you begin to feel nervous as the silence only increased, a far off look in connie's eyes as he looked you up and down.

slowly, his pink plump lips quirked up in a pussy-wetting smirk, your thighs immediately pushed against each other at the sight as butterflies swarmed in your lower region.

"you gonna let me eat it?" he asks, pushing out his lips slightly as he traced the rim of your undewear, lips twitching at the gasp you let out when he allows his finger to slowly go lower, pressing a finger against your clothed entrance with a breathy sigh from how wet you were.

"huh, ma?" his eyes flicker from your cunt to your face, face flushed with a slightly pink hue as he bites on his bottom lip.

you suddenly get shy from his words, looking away from him while slowly nodding.

connie shakes his head, his fingers still toying with your pretty underwear and his eyes stayed trained on your face, "need you to talk to me, none of that shy shit." you squeak as he suddenly slaps your pussy, face warming up from how good it felt. "y-yeah, want you to eat it con." connie almost doesn't hear you because of how quietly you mumble the words, he decided he wont tease you about it—now.

"good girl."

with that your panties are removed from your body, exposing your gushing warmth to the male infront of you who tried his best to swallow down the whimper that rises to his throat at the sight, adams apple bopping as he makes an effort to contain himself.

slowly and tanataliingly, he leans down. his mouth an inch away from attaching itself from your pretty pussy, suddenly stopping when you place a hand against his chest.

brown eyes flicker up to you, they're so intense that your body shudders under them. "what if it's dirty? you don't gotta do this-" you start of shyly but get cut off from connie blowing on you, smiling with his dimples on display at the way your pretty hole flutters from the mere action.

"stop playing and lemme eat you out." as he spoke he wrapped an arm around your thighs, pulling you closer towards his face. your back arches instantly as his tongue makes contact with your pussy, the vibration from connie's moan trembles throughout your body as he continues to lick you up.

"connie, t-that feels good." you said as he did a swirling motion with his tongue, he repeats the motion causing your hands to grip the sheets beneath your fingers, body twisting and turning from the pleasure he was giving you. "mmm, don't stop!"

your eyes cross as connie's tongue flick your clit repeatedly, mouth making an 'o' as your hands flew from the sheets to the back of his head, nails scratching his neck as he continued to tongue fuck you,

connie only groans and shivers in responce, his movements never slowing or stopping but instead speeding up as you rocked your cunt in his face, greedy for the feeling of his tongue against you and high off the pleasure he was giving you.

his tongue moves to your hole, the wet muscle moving inside of you and out again quickly before it begans flicking back and fourth between your clit and the fluttering hole.

"o-oh." you whisper, eyebrows drawing together as you feel your stomach tightening, the grip you have on connie tightening. "w-wait, feels w-weird!" your whining is ignored as connie's mouth latches unto your clit and sucks—the hold on your thigh is gone as you feel a finger enter you unexpectedly, your back arching as a high pitched-moan leavess your lips.

"connie!"

"mhm?" the words are hummed into your pussy as his fingers pump in and out of you, his tongue swirling your clit feverishly. your walls tighten around his fingers as they continued to play peek-a-boo with your pussy, the way you grip connie's head has you wondering if your somehow hurting him.

"gonna cu-mmm! gonna cum connie gonna cum!" you say, words all jumbled and stuttered as you began to reach your orgasm.

as the words leave your lips connie speeds up his movement, moans leaving his lips as he slurps you up messily.

a moan of connie's name leaves your lips before your arousal floods out of you, thr clear goo running down connie's chin and on the bedsheets beneath you.

connie pauses to watch as your cunt flutters prettily, the brown skin glistening with a mixture of your cum and his spit. you shudder as he presses a kiss to it, slowly pulling his gingers out of you and then licking them clean.

he turns to you after he's done, leaning down to kiss you slowly and gently, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. when he pulls away he smiles at how daed you look, your arms crossing around his neck as you pull him down for one more kiss before releasing him. "felt so good connie." you say, gently brushing your fingers over the back of his neck, smiling at the way he shivers because of it.

"yeah?" he asks, fluttering his lashes at you so innocently you almost get caught of-guard by what he says next. "you taste so good I nutted in my pants."

you laugh, thinking that he was just trying to be funny only for him to continue blinking at you, his lips pursued and his eyes low. your eyebrows draw together before you look between you, seeing the dark patch that laid on the center of connie's pants.

"I can't stand you."

"good thing your ass is laying down then."

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trendywaifus · 2 months

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suffering from nightmares/having trouble sleeping properly due to stress? say no more! cw: mention of panic attack. mention of fake character death. spoilers. angst to fluff. fem!reader

ACHERON is a light sleeper, so anything can rouse her from her slumber. she likes to spoon you and prefers you to be near the wall while she’s closer to the door to protect you if anything happens. if you’re having a nightmare, stirring in her arms and mumbling incoherent words under your breath, acheron will immediately wake up and know what’s going on. she won’t wake you. no, she’ll hold you tighter, pressing your back into her front, occasionally kissing the nape of your neck and softly whisper in your ear, talking you through it. “ you’re not alone, i’m here. “ and “ shh, it’s okay my love. you’re in my arms right now, you’re safe. “

if you’re having trouble sleeping, acheron will stay awake and talk to you about anything you want. if you just want her to talk that’s fine, she’ll just ramble on about some philosophy or if she remembers, she’ll recall some funny one-sided interactions she had with random people. you don’t wanna talk and just want her to hold you until you fall asleep? no problem! she’d quietly lull you into her strong arms and rests her chin on your temple. her calloused hands rub your back, occasionally drawing non-existent shapes against it. ngl, i see acheron unconsciously rubbing your ass and shyly apologize once she realizes what she’s doing (please continue).

if you’re having a terrible nightmare and wake up into a panic attack, struggling to differentiate what’s real and what’s not, that’ll be one of the rare times where acheron is scared to death cus ur her baby frfr.

(don’t attempt what acheron’s doing because people react differently during panic attacks and some do NOT want to be touched while having one. verbal redirection and MAYBE minimal touching is okay. )

“ (name). (name)! look at me, hey. “ acheron grabs your wrists, trying to hold you still while you hysterically sobbed and trembled. you frantically tried to escape acheron’s firm grip, shaking your head. “ i-i ha-have to get out of here—i-i can’t be here—you don’t understand!”you babbled, struggling to kick off the sheets and scramble out of the bed. she’s quick to pin you down against the mattress, straddling your hips to prevent you from escaping and hurting yourself.

“ you have to calm down. do you know where you are now? can you recognize me? you need to look at me. i’m begging you. “ acheron pleads, voice nearly cracking as she desperately tries to connect her amethyst eyes with yours. for several minutes, she tried to reorient and reassure you as you struggled to fully grasp reality. once you tired yourself out, it took some time for your lover’s voice to finally reach you.

“ that’s right, calm down. deep breaths, focus only on me my precious girl. no, no, don’t look over there, only at me. “ she whispers, releasing one of your wrists to brush the strands of hair sticking to your sweaty forehead and caressed your face lovingly, wiping the tears away with her thumb. “ i-i’m sorry, “ you choked out, “i didn’t mean to—“

“ it’s alright. you need’nt to apologize. i understand, my love. night terrors are truly horrible. “ acheron dips down to firmly kiss your forehead. she removes herself off of you and protectively pulls you into her midst. “ you nearly scared me to death but i know it was nothing compared to what you were experiencing in that nightmare. i promise that who or whatever is the cause of that dream, i’ll reduce them into nothingness if my blade can reach them. no, i’ll make sure of it. “

BLACK SWAN doesn’t sleep, she’s a memetic entity after all. if time allows her to, expect her to lay in bed and cuddle you while you sleep. her nimble fingers would comb through your hair, while your head is settled on her generous chest. you prefer to sleep on top of her because her presence is so soothing. that includes her voice, it’s so smooth and low, it’s like water when she hums and whispers sweet things into your ear. unfortunately, that still isn’t enough to escape from nightmares. as a memokeeper, black swan knows when you’re having a nightmare. she’ll enter into your dream and save you from whatever’s troubling you. when you wake up, she’d stroke your back and kiss the side of your head tenderly. “ that was quite the nightmare, wasn’t it? was i there to save you, my dear? “ black swan softly asks, sliver of tease in her voice.

you can’t sleep? that’s no good. sure she has the ability to ease your mind and body but physically comforting you with her touch is simply better. your cute sighs of content and the feeling of your body melting against hers is a savory memory to have. if you wish to talk, she’ll talk about the memories she witnessed, her favorites which is the ones with you in it, and then the downright ridiculous ones that she had collected from others. oh? don’t feel like talking and just want silence? that’s fine. she’ll simply hold you close till’ you fall victim to sleep—which won’t be long because her touch is sooo therapeutic and this woman knows it.

of course there will be times where she won’t be there with you due to her duties but if you call her name, especially with urgency, she’ll do her best to come to you as soon as possible.

“ bl-black swan! “ you hurriedly called out into the darkness, breath irregular and tears threatening to fall from your eyes. another night, another nightmare. you thought, running a shaky hand over your face. after a few minutes of waiting, there was still silence, no familiar weight on the bed, no angelic voice confirming her presence, no arms reaching out to embrace you—nothing.

“ sh-she must be busy. i’m foolish to think she would come the second i call her. “ you hide your face into your hands, sniffling.

“ it’s not foolish, my dearest. you musn’t think that, “ a gentle voice says in front of you, as the mattress softly dips. “ i heard the frantic call of my name and i did my best to wrap up some matters as fast as i could. i’m a little late, my apologies.” warm hands grasps your hands, slowly peeling them away from your face. once your watery eyes finds hers, black swan offers you a beautiful warm smile. “ there’s my pretty darling, come here. “ as if you were the most fragile thing in the universe, she delicately pulls you into a embrace and presses a quick kiss right below your brow. she sways you in her arms, humming a soothing tune you don’t recognize.

“ if you wish, allow me to erase that awful nightmare from your memories. “

FIREFLY is a sweetheart when it comes to you, her precious love. she puts you before herself and she’ll continue to until her very being fades away. so if you’re awake, she’s awake. you’re asleep, she’s asleep. in bed, firefly wants to face you while holding your hand, it grounds her and she hopes it does the same for you. when she’s on missions, you’re always on her mind, she has you to come back to after all. if you’re having a nightmare, firefly is quick to notice it and wake you up, greeting you with a sweet smile reserved only for you as your eyes flutters open. “ it’s just me, (name). “ she’d whisper, brushing the messy hair away from your tired eyes. firefly leans down to land a chaste kiss right between your eyes.

having trouble sleeping? that’s okay, firefly will do her best to entertain you while you’re up. if you want to talk about anything, go ahead! she’ll listen and share her thoughts with you. she herself doesn’t really have any fond memories to share except the ones she has with you. oh, you don’t want to talk? okay, let her hold you then. because of her fire element, she’s warm so i can imagine her protectively enveloping you in her arms, legs tangling with yours, and nuzzle her nose into your temple. your ear is pressed against her chest, the soft rhythm of her heart is all you hear besides her faint breathing.

unfortunately, firefly won’t be there all the time with you because of her missions, so nights by yourself are a little common.

with a heavy heart, you lift your head from the pillow, sitting up. cold sweat rolls down the side of your face as ominous darkness swallows your form. “ a nightmare. “ you murmured, glancing to the empty side where your missing lover should be. she’s on a mission and is expected to come back soon. you exhaled deeply, snatching your phone from the nightstand to look at the time. “ its nearly one in the morning. i need to sleep before—“

“ you’re awake. “ a deep, low robotic voice observes, heavy footsteps entering the shared cabin along with the sound of shifting metal. your drowsy gaze turns over to the looming, large mecha walking towards the bed, it’s blue slits glowing in the darkness. “ well, i was sleep but i can guess you can see how that went, sam. “ sam’s large metal hand reaches out to gingerly touch your cheek, it felt warm and comforting against your skin. “ yes, i do. would you like for me to get you a glass of water or anything that you desire? “

you rest your hand over sam’s, giggling, “ no, i just desire you and you. “ your hand then points at the mecha’s chest. sam pauses before a bit, taken back by your gesture and chuckles fondly. they retract away and takes a few steps back. “ as you wish, my love. “ blue lightly highlights sam from head to toe and wisps of flames wraps around its form. not a moment later, firefly emerges from the short-lasting flames, smiling warmly at you.

“ it’s nice to also see you again, firefly. “

ROBIN is another sweetheart! she makes sure you’re all comfortable before anything else. much like firefly, she loves to lay in bed while facing you. robin adores your pretty resting face and often times retrains herself from touching you. if you’re having a nightmare, which is rare because of robin’s angelic presence, she won’t wake you up, instead, she’d sing a soft tune and stroke your hair. “ don’t worry my muse, “ she whispers, dulcet voice filled with love and a hint of sadness, “ you’re not alone. when you wake up, i’ll be here to comfort you with open arms. “

can’t sleep? no worries, if you want, she can relax your body so you can sleep! oh, you don’t want to? you want to just talk to get your mind off of things? okay, robin will listen to whatever you have to say with a fond smile. she’ll gladly give you a response if you want her thoughts. if you want her to talk, she’ll talk about her tours, songs she’s writing (excluding the ones that are about you cus it’s a surprise ;)), and her brother! don’t feel like talking? that’s fine, she’s gonna admire you until sleep overtakes her.

robin absolutely hates it when you have terrible nightmares, it breaks her heart to see you in a state of distress.

“ sweetheart, are you alright? “ she asks worriedly, touching your shoulder and tilts her head to the side to see more of your face. you breathed heavily, casting her a tight-lipped smile that didn’t reassure robin one bit. “ mhm, “ you bring her into a hug, burying your face into her shoulder, breathing in her lavender scent. “ just a small bad dream. don’t worry, robbie. “ you muttered, holding back a sob. it was just a small bad dream where your lover dies right in front of your eyes is all.

her wings flutters with sadness as your body trembles against hers. she wraps her slender arms around your frame, softly frowning. “ a small bad dream that left you like this? please don’t lie to me, love. i want to help you. “

“ you already are, “ you hold her tighter, voice evidently cracking, “ by being here with me.” robin feels warm tears stain her nightgown, her lips pursues.

“ no—please, allow me to see your face so i can wipe your tears away and ease your mind. “

after a brief moment, you tentatively pull away from her shoulder, letting her see your teary face. her jade eyes glosses a bit. robin cradles your cheeks, brushing away the small droplets of tears with the stroke of her thumbs. she leans forward and rests her forehead against yours. a warm feeling whirls in your stomach and spreads through your body like a wildfire. your tense muscles relaxes and your troubled mind gradually clears. your lover places a lingering kiss against your shaking lips, silently promising you that it’s going to be okay.

#trendy #acheron x reader #black swan x reader #firefly x reader hsr #robin x reader hsr #honkai star rail women x reader

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blueywrites · 6 months

Text

morning head ii

(a companion to this ficlet)

eddie munson x reader

you wake up to eddie eating you out.

cw: 18+ only. no pronouns, reader with breasts and a vagina. oral (f receiving), somnophilia with no explicit consent given (reader is happy about it; don't do that in real life). eddie refers to reader as 'baby' and 'sweetheart.' more fluffy, sensual smut with no plot.

1.8k

It's not the cold that wakes you today.

You come back to yourself in a disoriented daze. Everything is tight, hot, swollen, throbbing between your hips. Your skin is damp, and despite the crisp bite of the air on your face, a bead of sweat rolls down the crease of your thigh. It’s quickly chased by a broad tongue dragging up that crease, and you gasp at the sensation— so hot and wet that despite your disorientation, tingles burst throughout your middle.

You blink until the sleepy blur in your eyes clears and look down to see a mop of dark, wild curls concealing any other details from view. But it doesn’t quite matter that you can't see when you can feel what's happening— feel when Eddie sucks one of your plump lower lips into his mouth, rolling it around languidly and pulling back little by little until it pops free. Once it does, he’s rooting for the other one. Finding it, sucking it, working it in such a way that you know he’s enjoying himself.

You realize that he's been playing with you while you sleep, and you’re so fucking turned on it nearly hurts.

It's overwhelming to be woken this way, and you reach over your head to clutch the pillow tight in your fists. It gives away that you're with him now; you feel more than hear a rumble against your folds and then a rush of air as Eddie separates from you, breathing in deeply like he’d been happily buried underwater.

“Mornin’, baby.” Eddie’s voice is still sleep-hoarse but smooth with knowing. All you can do is whimper in response, and he chuckles over your mound, making you squirm when his warm breath cools on contact with your slicked skin. His brown eyes catch the faint morning light as they flick up to meet you, and the bulb of his soft nose shines with the evidence of your arousal. Low, lazy, teasing, he asks you, “Were you havin’ a good dream?”

Disorientation fades, and now the fullness of your feeling catches up with you— that tight, swollen throbbing discerns itself into pleasure and need, a fierce sensation that makes your chest heave like you’ve been running hard and fast through the woods. “No,” you gasp out, breathy and so earnest that Eddie has to tuck his face against your mound to bury a wide, dopey smile. He shakes his face playfully against you, tickling you with his nose and lips. You yelp at its unexpectedness though your hips also jerk up, helplessly revealing how much Eddie’s mid-slumber activities have affected you.

When he peeks up at you again, he’s composed himself. “No?” The dopey smile has turned to a lopsided smirk, another lazy expression as he draws himself up so that only the ends of his curls are draped over your hips. Eddie braces on his elbows so his broad palms can come to the insides of your thighs, pressing to your damp skin and gently guiding your legs open for him. He kneads them as you follow, a fond and almost innocent gesture before his hands leave your legs and his calloused thumbs pull your plump, sticky lips apart instead. That’s anything but innocent. You can hear the separation— in the stillness of his bedroom, it’s an embarrassingly wet sound, like the breaking of a sloppy, spit-heavy kiss. “All this ‘cause of me, then?” Eddie asks, rhetorical and smug. His gaze flicks from your pussy up to your face. “Wish you could see how fuckin’ soaked your pussy is for me, sweetheart. She’s practically drooling for it. Beggin’ me to put my tongue inside.”

“Please,” you whimper, an involuntary reflex that makes Eddie's burnished eyes both soften and heat further.

“‘Course, sweetheart,” he hums, and you shudder at the thick honey of his voice, the promise in it.

Despite the humid hunger filling his bedroom like a delicious, palpable presence, Eddie doesn't dive in and devour you. Instead, he eats you out with no urgency, calm and unhurried like he’s confident he has you right where he wants you— and he does. He takes his time, pressing thorough, open-mouthed kisses all over your pussy, nearly ignoring your clit as he lavishes you with his broad tongue. The only stimulation your poor button gets comes from the soft bulb of his nose brushing against it incidentally as his tongue drags thick and slow over your lips and the creases of your thighs, sometimes dipping shallowly into the well of your honeyed arousal, lapping up each sweet drop you weep for him. You could try to whine and writhe, but it wouldn't hurry him, not when he's like this. So you release your desperation and give in to him instead— softening your hands, letting go of the pillow you'd been clutching so tight, stretching your back and letting your limbs sink into the well-worn cotton covering his mattress.

“That’s it, baby,” Eddie murmurs, fond and warm as you splay comfortably on his bed. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Eddie forms a quick seal around your clit with his lips; he sucks, and the intensity makes your knees twitch. He holds steady, maintaining pressure ‘til you can't stay silent and your lips part on a sweetly anguished moan. He grants you mercy, breaking the suction when he opens his jaw wide to stretch his tongue down and swipe it slowly over your hole. He does it over and over as you sigh and sing for him, drowning in bliss. He pauses to tell you, “Taste so fuckin’ good. M’so lucky I get to lick you all up whenever I want. Have your pussy all to myself.” His voice sinks inside you, filling you up ‘til you're floating.

All is haze and comfort, warmth and pleasure— the warm musk of Eddie's pillow as you tip your cheek against it, the slightest tickle of his hair swaying rhythmically against your hips, the scratchy rasp of his stubble when his jaw brushes against your cheeks and sensitive inner thighs. You're drowning in him, surrendering yourself entirely to his mercy, and you're more than happy to let yourself be lost.

You know Eddie will always find you and bring you back.

After some time— you can't know how long— you hear Eddie’s voice. It reaches you gently because there’s no need to command; you’ll do anything he says. “Pull up your shirt, baby,” he murmurs. “Wanna see your tits.”

You tug the cotton up your body, sighing with relief as it bunches under your armpits and across your collar. The cool air feels good on your heated skin, and mindlessly, you follow the animal need to run your nails lightly down your sides. It’s a wonderful, delicious tickle, and you hum your satisfaction as you treat yourself so nicely. You keep going, ghosting your fingers down to your hips and up your belly, stopping just below your breasts. Goosebumps bloom in the wake of your touch, and you sigh as the shiver complements your growing pleasure.

“Goddamn.” The word is ragged, and you look down at Eddie to see him staring up at you, watching you with molten intensity as you touch your skin indulgently. He licks his slick lips, and they’re so pink and swollen that he looks even more pretty than usual. “You’re so sexy.” You smile, feeling feminine and sensual and beautiful under his gaze. “Pinch your nipples for me. Yeah, like that—” He groans against your clit, eyes fixed on your chest as you roll both of your nipples between thumb and forefinger. You pinch and pull ‘til it hurts just a little, just how you like it.

Eddie's voice turns grittier, more intent. “Keep doin’ that and don’t stop. Want you to come on my face.”

You moan, soft and needy, and your back arches against the sheets as rippling pleasure builds inside. Knowing Eddie’s watching you— asking you— to play with your breasts; hearing his little grunts and groans of satisfaction against your heated flesh; feeling him work your clit gently but insistently between his tongue and his upper lip, coupled with the naughty sting of you abusing your peaked nipples…

You've been under him like this for so long that when the peak builds, it does so quickly and disarmingly. “Eddie!” you cry, his name a prayer of ecstasy and fulfillment as you shatter into pieces. He lets your thighs clamp down on his ears, covets it, even. Groans as he wraps his arms around your hips, hugging you tight as you rut yourself against his face like an animal— mindless, pitiful, overcome by pleasure that washes you in waves of increasing intensity until it crests within you, pushing up from your lungs in a desperate series of broken, gasping moans.

At some point, the pleasurable tension subsides; at some point, Eddie nuzzles you one last time between the legs and crawls up your body. But you don’t notice either of those things until his broad palm is cupping your cheek and his lips are molding to yours. You whimper into his kiss, sighing through your nose as he kisses you like you’re the only thing in the world he loves. Slow, so painfully slow; soft, sticky, and thorough, Eddie kisses you, and with his thumbs, he swipes away the blissful tears that leaked from the corners of your eyes while you came.

Eddie lays all of his weight on top of you, a welcome pressure like the tightest hug. You’re trembling, all of you spilled over the sheets and tangled with him. The most you can manage is to raise a wobbling arm and cup the back of his wild hair with your palm, tuck your fingers into those beloved curls to hold him close and kiss him back until he decides to part from your lips. When he does, moving only far enough so he can look at you, you find his eyes as full as you feel: bright like amber in the morning light and heavy with the weight of your mutual devotion.

“Thank you,” you whisper, but he shakes his head. A lopsided smile spreads across his face, and he takes your hand to pepper kisses across your knuckles.

“Nah,” he says, fond and dismissive. Between his voice and sparkling eyes, you can tell that he’s feeling far less wrecked than you, but you can’t find it in you to be sour when he’s the reason your morning started like this. “Had to have my breakfast, y’know? Start my day off with a balanced meal.” The smile glints, shifting into a mischievous grin. “Little sugar, little yeast—”

An embarrassed noise of protest rips from the back of your throat, and you find the strength to smack him in the chest, rearing back to do it again. Unphased, Eddie just laughs at you, pinning your arms and legs in a full-body bear hug that keeps you from violence and dissolves you into giggles with him.

He can never be serious for long— because he’s your Eddie, and that’s enough.

Please reblog & let me know if you enjoyed! It keeps me going 🩵

Also I typically don't post two days in a row, don't get used to it babes 😘

#blueywrites #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fics #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader

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tacticaldiary · 9 months

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can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/09/2023)

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mochinomnoms · 6 months

Note

Do you ever think about eel cuddles? I feel like there are times when they want to snuggle and be in their eel forms while doing it so it's more comfortable for them. I kinda picture being in a big tub with one, their shrimpy is either nakey or wearing a bathing suit and just chilling in the bath with music playing and talking to them. Maybe you get to mess around with their fins or touch their cool claws all the while getting covered in their slimy love.

I do, I think about it so much and I am a sucker for non-sexual intimacy!!!! As much as I like to think about spicy thoughts with the tweels, there's something so domestic about sharing a bath with your partner, scratching and massaging their scalp and carefully rinsing out the shampoo so that it doesn't get in their eyes. It's easier to scrub your back when you have someone else there to do it for you. Yes, it's not the only time they'll see you naked, but there's something extra vulnerable about seeing all the moles, stretchmarks, and scars on your skin under a warm bathroom light.

Floyd isn't a big fan of bubble baths or using things like bath bombs, surprisingly! The idea of foaming bubbles and fizzy colors is cool at first, but all the smells and colors can overstimulate him when he's trying to relax. If he's trying to relax with his shrimpy, he actually prefers to use products with scents that remind him of home. Allow me to flex my ex-Lush employee knowledge, but he likes products that smell a lot more fresh, salty, and even citrusy! Plus, it makes you smell a lot more like him in the end. Floyd will rub his soap into your skin, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck to revel in the contact. For added measure, he'll rub his face, hands, and tail into you so that you'll be all slick and slimy just like him! He'll even do you the favor of massaging it into your skin if you throw a fit about feeling too wet. By the end, you'll have such smooth, soft skin that Vil is going to wonder if Azul decided to start selling his serum to the public.

Jade is just a tad bit more adventurous, if adventurous means picking all the woodsy, floral, and earthy scented bath products he can get his hands on. His favorite scents are rosemary and chamomile, which sounds weird at first but are actually quite pleasant. Jade will get you your very own shampoo, conditioner, and bath products suited for your hair and skin. He will only keep them in his bathroom, though. He slowly but surely gets you accustomed to his products, lush bathroom, and the soothing scrap from his nails that he repeatedly assured you wouldn't hurt. He'll use his claws to gently trace shapes and his name into your skin as he compares how different your skin's texture is compare to him. He's marveling how your fingertips prune up and your nails get softer, unlike his own hands which stay firm, slick and sharp. You're gonna get so used to Jade taking care of you in the bath that you're gonna be dragging yourself every other evening to wash up with Jade to take care of you. And care he does, for your his shrimp as well!

As a the shrimp to an eel, your their symbiote and they'll also expect you to clean them up too. Easier said than done when they're covered in a layer of mucus that sticks to your fingers and makes it hard to grab a hold of their squirming tail (they move it on purpose cause they think your furrowed brows and pout is funny). You can get them to settle down once you manage to trace the ridges of their fins, a particularly sensitive spot on their body that's the equivalent of tracing nails along your spine, soft and delightful shivers will make them chirp and click as you draw shapes and place kisses. It's a sight that the big bad scary eels reserve just for your eyes. Softness in the sea is reserved for only their mate, after all.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #mochi asks

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tteokdoroki · 4 months

Note

Hi aali!, Happy Valentine's Day~ I saw your bumble date, swipe right event and would like to participate :D I put forward gojo satoru as my fav, red bottomed heels as my ideal valentine's gift and for my date to be sweet. Please and thank you in advance /^w^/

⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚⟡. — SATORU GOJO. swipe sweet: red bottom heels.

about. it’s a match! whilst dolling yourself up to spend valentines day with your husband — satoru gojo reminds you of how much he loves you with a very expensive and reminiscent gift ( 1K ).

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, reader and gojo are married + have kids, reader is wearing a dress, afab!reader.

・:〃⤥ bumble date, swipe right event !

“are the kids in bed?” you ask your husband satoru as you scrutinise the line of red on your lips in the mirror. his large palms smooth over the curves of your frame, hugged by your pretty and powder blue dress, before stopping just above your navel.

the gesture is sweet, with no ulterior motives, you’ve learned over the years that your husband values proximity and closeness. he likes to hold you close like you might disappear and touch you as though to make sure that you’re real. tonight, he gets lost in the way you feel underneath his explorative fingertips, entranced by how beautiful you look tonight (or any other night).

cooing, you capture his attention — brilliant colbalt eyes finding yours in the mirror. “satoru,”

“you look good in this dress, baby. is it new?” he quips, head of silvering hair coming to rest at the junction between your neck and shoulder as you finish perfecting your lip. “sorry, yes honey. the rugrats are sleepin’.”

you squirm happily in your man’s hold, relishing the way that he loves up on you with kisses to your neck and his warm hands rubbing up had dabi’s your sides. “what about the sitters? did you pay them?”

“you mean fushiguro? we practically raised him, a bit of free labour never hurt anybody —“ when you cough unhappily, glaring at your long-time lover and father of your children in the mirror, satoru pouts into the kisses he’s fitted along your bare shoulder. “— fine, i’ll leave him a tip.”

the man is rewarded with one of your dazzling smiles, the type that has his heart bursting through his chest and his brain a mess. no matter how many dates you go on, how many times you celebrate valentine’s day together…satoru gojo finds himself falling in love with you all over again. each and every time.

“satoru baby, did you—?”

“yes, sweetie, i called the uber. it’ll be here in five. yes, i called the restaurant and had them push back by thirty and yes, you look beautiful. you always do. you’re just as beautiful as the day i met you,” years of marriage has taught satoru gojo to be prepared for anything. your fluttering mind, your worry for your children, the fact that you always take a little too long to get ready for the simplest of outings. these little habits and ticks of yours are things that he cherishes, things he wouldn’t change for the world. satoru has grown a lot since he first met you, and has grown in all the right ways to make sure that you’re loved.

spinning you in his bulking arms, satoru backs you up against your bathroom sink — caging you against it with his arms either side of your hips while he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “now, i know we like to be fashionably late to things, being the hottest couple in the world and all, but i really do think we should get going,” he scolds you playfully, but doesn’t make an effort to draw away from you. “i can’t push this table back anymore,”

you smile, blowing a kiss up at him so that you don’t smudge your lipstick. “don’t let megumi hear you say that, you know that he thinks we’re cringe.”

“he can think what he wants, nothing will stop me from showing off the most beautiful woman in the world,” when the white haired man finally steps back, your fingers remain linked — wedding bands clinking against one another. “let me get your shoes, gorgeous, the car’ll be here soon.”

as your husband retreats ( leaving you a love stricken mess in the bathroom ), you resort to packing a clutch with the essentials for tonight — debating on which lip gloss to bring with you until he comes back.

“remember these?” satoru questions you softly once he re-enters the bathroom — sinking to his knees despite the tight fitting black tux that he wears. your eyes drift over his handsomely aged face, firm and muscled form, down to the pair of heels he holds in his grasp. their white leather and red bottom sole are all too familiar to you. a pair of christian louboutin heels fresh from the box.

setting the pair of shoes down, satoru gently takes one of your ankles in his hold and positions it perfectly to slip your foot into the heel. “you wore them to our wedding, way back when. i remember that you spent hours deliberating between the kate model and the hot chick model. even still, i always loved how they looked on you,” he reminisces, lips ghosting over your thigh and thumbs smoothing up your calves once your foot is secured in its shoe. “how they make your legs look.”

he wiggles his eyebrows up at you then, making you snort under the dim lighting in your bathroom like two teenagers struggling to get out of their clothes after a night out. “satoru!” you squeal, pushing at his shoulder with your bare foot. “focus, we’ve got to leave soon,” your husband nods, working your other heel on while you reminisce. “i thought i lost the original pair in one of the boxes when we moved to the bigger house for the baby.”

blue eyes shoot up to meet yours, holding so much love and adoration for you. “not too tight, right?” gojo whispers, rubbing at the back of your foot to make sure the leather material isn’t hurting you. you shake your head, earning yourself a kiss to the knee. “you did. lose them. i remember how upset you were, so i figured i’d get you a replacement pair. they might be a little different but—“

“but they’re perfect, thank you baby,” even after all this time, satoru remains the most thoughtful partner you’ve ever had. you swear to yourself that you’ll cherish him always, look after him always. even after life and even in death. “i love them.”

“i love you.” gojo says tenderly, taking a stand and offering you his hand all in one swift movement. “now cinderella, i do believe our carriage awaits. our Uber driver has just set a timer and i’ll be damned if he drives away with my damn money.”

with that, you let your husband whisk you away for a romantic dinner — expensive and cherished red bottom heels clicking against the pavement while the wind carries your joint laughter as you run like fools for your uber (much to megumi’s dismay).

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

Note

I really liked the lactation headcanons for the brothers and Solomon! I was wondering if your planning to make more for the other characters?

A/N: This series was a wild ride. It started as crack-treated-seriously and then I kind of liked it more than I thought I would. The comments and requests along the way motivated me to keep going. If you were one of the readers waiting for these characters to show up, I hope the final installment was worth the wait!

LUCIFER, SATAN, DIAVOLO & BARBATOS, SIMEON, KARASU

5k words | NSFW/MDNI | gn!Reader

Content/warnings: due to magical mishaps, reader has larger, lactating breasts that are vaguely described. Mostly hurt/comfort, smut and fluff. Lactation kink, breast/nipple play, breast massaging/fondling, threesome/poly relationship, fingering, cockwarming, oral sex, rough sex. Reader pronouns: you/your, they/them.

More in the Lactation Kink series: Mammon | Levi, Asmo, Beel, Belphie | Solomon

LUCIFER

Lucifer thinks it's so precious when you cross your arms and insist he turn around so you can strip out of your soiled pajamas. Your chest strains against the buttons of the Devilmoth silk pajama shirt he bought you, and it’s dotted with wet spots from your leaking nipples. Your frown deepens when he insists that he’s seen you naked plenty of times before, but he finally relents with a sigh and turns to face the wall so you can undress.

He’s still not sure how this unusual situation occurred, but he has a gut feeling that a certain white-haired sorcerer has something to do with it. He’ll have to hunt Solomon down and string him up later as penance, but for right now, his only priority is making sure you’re comfortable and cared for.

The first thing he thought might help your stress and discomfort was sitting in a warm bath. He used his personal shower gel to add a bit of fragrance and foam to the water. The subtle notes of coffee and amber mix diffuse into the steamy air. He was afraid that Asmo’s floral bubble bath might be too overpowering.

(He secretly prefers that you use scented products that will remind you of him anyway.)

Once he hears the soft sloshing of bath water, he finally turns around. There’s a small stool perched in the corner of the room, and he drags it over so he can sit behind you. You look at him over your shoulder and comment that maybe it's best he leaves—you're afraid his clothes might get wet. He offers you a small smile but shakes his head and reminds you to stop being silly.

He assumes that your deflection is your attempt to draw his attention away from you and your body's recent changes. Your breasts are larger now, and he's hesitant to admit out loud that it’s a bit strange. It’s not the same body he’s mapped with his hands and worshipped with his tongue. But what he realized when he found you like this earlier, and what he hopes you'll always believe, is that it doesn’t matter what you look like. Nothing could ever change how he feels for you. You’ll always be stunning in his eyes, the single person who captivates him effortlessly with a smile, a touch, a kiss—all the things you offer freely that prove how much you love him.

He doesn't know how to change your body back, but what he can do is help you feel better instead. He starts by massaging your shoulders gently, and he feels the tension start to melt away under his fingers. Your arms float weightlessly in the water at your sides, and you’re no longer focused on shielding your chest from his view. He uses the opportunity to rake his greedy, curious eyes along your body. Glimpses of wet, naked skin peek through the fluffy layer of bubbles; the slick tops of your breasts rest just above the water’s surface.

He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows and scoots his seat a little closer. He kisses the ticklish spot below your ear while his hands curl over your shoulders and smooth down your chest. He cups the heavy weight of your tits in his palms, and his cock twitches when you sigh softly at his touch. You tip your head back against the edge of the porcelain tub so he has better access to the soft column of your throat. He kisses along your jaw and down your neck as his fingers pinch greedily at your swollen nipples. You push your chest against his hands encouragingly, a silent plea to keep going. He rolls the hardened buds between his fingers and smirks into the crook of your neck when you breathe out a quiet moan. He does it again and again, alternating pinching your nipples gently and massaging your breasts until you’re both desperate for more.

The bubbles slowly start to dissipate and he can see more of your naked body below the water’s surface. His cock aches when you start squirming in the water and clenching your thighs together; you're desperate for some sort of friction to relieve the heat building inside you. He’s tempted to tear off his clothes and lower himself into the bath with you, but your nipples have started leaking again. The creamy discharge expels into the water and lingers on the surface like a film. The renewed scent of warm milk in the air envelops him like a fog. He coaxes you to sit up straight, and your tits hang heavily from your chest, no longer buoyant in the bath water. He flicks his thumb across your nipple and gathers some of the pearly-white milk before sucking it into his mouth with a hum.

You shift in the tub to face him properly, and his eyes drink in the delectable sight of your warm cheeks, your lust-darkened eyes and your soft, pouty lips. Your eyes flick down when you notice the obvious bulge in his pants. You slowly lick your lips and all he can think of now is tracing your mouth with the tip of his cock. He thinks about thrusting himself gently into your mouth and teasing the back of your throat while you swallow around him. He’ll have to pull away before he comes because he wants to paint your skin with his release. The thought of his cum mixing with the drops of milk clinging to your tits makes his cock ache and throb against his zipper.

Fantasies can only satisfy him for so long, and he’s run out of patience for daydreams. He stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt; he’s tempted to tear the damn thing open because the desire to have your mouth around his cock tests the limits of his self-control.

“The bath water is getting cool, my love,” he murmurs thickly. (It's not, but you don't correct him because you already know what he wants.) He keeps his hungry gaze locked with your own as he starts unbuckling his belt. “Rinsing off in a warm shower might be best for now—but this time, I think I’ll join you.”

SATAN

Satan is touched that you would ask him for help with your unfortunate little problem. Problems. He skimmed through his collection of human world medical texts before coming to your room but he’s not prepared for the reality when he walks through your door: the lactonic scent in the air, your damp night shirt that sticks to your swollen chest and hardened nipples, the apprehension in your eyes because you’re afraid he’ll tease you.

Your expression is hesitant because of your self-consciousness, but right now he wants nothing more than to comfort you, to help you so that this strange mishap passes as painlessly as possible. He sent word to Lucifer already and got permission for both of you to stay home: you can relax easier without the others loitering nearby, and he can take care of you in peace and quiet.

He sits at your desk and reads from a medical book in his lap. He explains that massaging might help with the excess fluid and the swelling that's causing you some discomfort. His cheeks burn flaming-hot because he's so tempted to offer to do it for you, but he doesn’t want to make you feel even more awkward or exposed.

He clears his throat and looks down at his book to give you some semblance of privacy. He pretends to read, but he steals glimpses of you from the corner of his eye instead. You peel away the sticky nightshirt and toss it aside, and his breath hitches when you cup your heavy tits in your hands. You hold them gently, looking down at them curiously like you haven’t really looked at them before. You squeeze them and utter a little gasp that makes his cock twitch inside his pants. You do it again, and again, and you try pinching one of your nipples too. There’s a fresh wave of milky scent in the air, and he can hear the quiet drip—drip—drips as the creamy fluid falls onto your lap.

His fingers twitch with the urge to touch, to squeeze your soft breasts himself. He desperately wants to hear more of your whiny little sounds in his ear as he plays with your tits, but he reminds himself that this isn't about him, this is about you.

(He doesn’t realize you’ve been watching him, too. He thinks he’s fooling you with the upside-down book in his lap that he’s clearly not reading, or the way his cheeks and the tips of his ears are bright-red from embarrassment or arousal—probably both—and the loudest sound in your room is his jerky, panted breaths.)

He stares blankly at nothing while he imagines what it might be like to watch your tits jiggle from the force of his thrusts as he fucks you. He thinks about squeezing them in his hands and watching the milky fluids seep between his fingertips. His mind races and he thinks about jerking off as he kneels over your stomach, spilling his release across your skin and watching his cum drip between the valley of your breasts into the little pools of your milk. He could gather it up on his fingers and feed it to you, if you’re curious what both of you taste like mixed together…?

He looks over in a panic when he realizes you’re trying to get his attention. From the mischievous smile on your face, apparently it wasn’t the first time you called his name. His eyes linger on your chest before he snaps his gaze up to yours, but you look even more devious now. His cock throbs between his legs when you lay back against your pillows, slowly and deliberately, and you start playing with your tits again.

You ask him in the sweetest, most innocent tone if he’d like to help, and he’s out of the chair in an instant. The book in his lap falls carelessly to the floor, revealing the hard outline of his cock in his jeans and the little wet spot forming near the tip. He climbs onto the bed and settles himself over your thighs. He leans forward and covers your hands with his, squeezing your tits gently and muffling your soft moan when he captures your lips in a desperate kiss.

DIAVOLO & BARBATOS

Your brunch date with Diavolo and Barbatos takes an unexpected turn when you show up with swollen breasts and leaking nipples. You threw on an oversized sweater to try and hide your unexpected condition so you wouldn’t have to cancel on them.

They escort you inside the castle to Diavolo’s private chambers where the breakfast table has been set on his private balcony, but both demons can sense right away that something’s not quite right. Diavolo will know if you lie, and you’re not a good liar at the best of times, so you tell them the truth. You shuffle your feet nervously and brace yourself for their reactions—surprise, worry, disgust?

Above all else, they’re concerned about your condition and whether you’re in any pain. You reassure them it’s mostly embarrassment and they seem relieved to hear it. The three of you loiter awkwardly in Diavolo's room and you realize that they're acting a little strange after you confess your secret to them. They lean in close and sniff curiously at your skin. Barbatos mutters something about not wanting you to get cold and he tugs at the hem of the damp sweater. Once the heavy shirt is removed, you only have a soaking-wet undershirt to cover your chest. The thin, flimsy material is nearly see-through and it clings to your breasts and your hardening nipples in the cool air. Two pairs of eyes roam your chest eagerly, and Diavolo pulls you into his arms—he shrugs off your feeble concerns about his clothes getting dirty too.

(While the young prince distracts you, Barbatos turns away and brings the discarded sweater to his nose. He breathes in your natural scent laced with milk and licks experimentally against the wet cotton. It has a surprisingly warm, semi-sweet taste. He draws a bit more of the fabric between his lips and sucks lightly, but the increasingly persistent throbbing between his legs snaps him out of his daze.)

Barbatos sets everything aside to be washed and by the time he returns to your side, Diavolo reaches for the hem of your undershirt next. The heat in their eyes is unmistakable and you suddenly realize what they mean when they offer to help you. Their dark eyes promise all sorts of sin to distract you from your unfortunate predicament, but like always, they wait patiently for your permission. As soon as you've nodded your consent, Diavolo takes off your undershirt while Barbatos reaches for your waistband. Gentle hands remove the last of your clothing, and they lead you to the bed.

They press against you, Diavolo in front of you and Barbatos at your back, and you're engulfed by the heat of their bodies. They take turns peppering your lips and your bare skin in a flurry of hot, sloppy kisses. Greedy hands roam across your body as they hastily rid themselves of their own clothing.

Barbatos manages to take his clothes off first, and his naked body is hot and firm against your back. He wraps an arm around your waist and buries his nose against your neck. He tilts your head towards his and kisses you while his slick tail strokes between your legs and teases at your entrance. He holds you steady in his arms despite the tremor in your legs as the precise pace of his tail flicking in and out of you teases you with pleasure. Your skin grows slippery from his tail’s secretion, and once he's satisfied he won't hurt you, he replaces his tail with his fingers next. Two fingers slip inside easily and he scissors them wide to stretch you open for his cock. His name falls from your lips in jerky little whimpers and groans, and you grind your ass against his cock when you're ready for more.

You’re so perfectly distracted that you nearly forgot about Diavolo. He watches silently with lustful eyes as Barbatos’ hand works between your thighs. He undresses himself slowly while he enjoys the sight of his butler’s dexterous fingers thrusting in and out of your greedy hole. He meets Barbatos' questioning look over your shoulder; when he nods, Barbatos sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you down into his lap.

Your body trembles with anticipation as Barbatos guides his cock inside you, and you groan his name when he bottoms out. He murmurs praise into your ear about how you take him so well and you’re so warm and soft for him. He holds your hips still when you try to squirm in his lap. He denies you the friction you crave, but he promises they'll both reward you if you listen and behave.

He wraps one arm around your tummy to keep you pressed against him while the other hand starts fondling one of your tits. His cock twitches inside you every time you moan or shudder, but he still won't let you move. His fingers play with your nipple, tracing the sensitive nub before surprising you with a sharp pinch between his finger and thumb. Milk drips onto your lap and rolls lazily down the inside of your thighs. Your face burns with embarrassment and desire, but his lips brush the shell of your ear. You're doing so well, he promises with a kiss. What a delightful treat you are, dearest.

Diavolo watches your sweet torment as he lazily fists his cock. The tendrils of milk and sweat stain your skin and he longs to trace them both with his tongue. These little games benefit from a bit of a tease, and he lets desire build within him like an inferno.

When he can't possibly wait anymore to touch you, he finally kneels between your legs. His large hands push your thighs apart so he can pepper your ticklish thighs with soft kisses. Your breasts bounce lightly each time his feather-light lips brush over a sensitive patch of skin. Barbatos continues pinching your nipples and his young master waits patiently for it to roll down your thighs. He laps up your milk greedily between nips of teeth. Your musky arousal and your sweet milk on his tongue makes him ravenous for you.

Diavolo buries his head between your legs and sucks at your arousal earnestly, and Barbatos finally starts to move. He grinds his hips lazily against yours so his cock fills you deeply with each little thrust of his hips. He fondles both of your tits with both his hands as Diavolo’s hands curl around your hips. Each roll of your hips draws Barbatos deeper inside you while Diavolo ravishes you with his tongue, desperate for every drop of milk and cum your body can give him.

SIMEON

Simeon is startled from his book when an angry knock pounds on the front door of Purgatory Hall. He’s not sure what Solomon did to you, but judging by the frustrated purse of your lips and the angry glint in your eyes, it must be serious. The sorcerer is nowhere to be found, but Simeon leads you to his room—he hopes you’ll be more comfortable and willing to talk to him about what’s bothering you in private.

He’s shocked by the sight of your large chest when you take off your jacket with a frustrated grumble. There are some dried stains around your hardening nipples and you point at yourself derisively. You complain about the mess you woke up to and how most of your tops don’t even fit anymore. You compare yourself to a leaky faucet and he stops your self-deprecating rant with a gentle hand on your shoulder. He’s not sure how he can help but he desperately wants to. Your eyes look so sad and it’s gut-wrenching to see you like this.

You look away from him in embarrassment, but he reassures you that he wants to help. He strokes your cheek gently with the back of his fingers and promises he’ll do whatever you ask of him. His thumb wipes away a stray tear that slips from the corner of your eye, and you melt into his chest when he pulls you into a gentle hug.

“I could use a distraction,” you murmur quietly into his shirt with a sniffle.

A distraction?

If it’s a distraction you need, then that's what he'll do for you.

He helps you take off your clothes first. Your top is already a lost cause, and there’s small drip stains on your pants now too. He drops them into a messy pile on the floor. He quickly takes off his own shirt and pants next while you scoot back on his bed until you’re resting comfortably against the pillows.

It’s not often he gets to enjoy you like this: naked and trembling with anticipation against his sheets, gazing at him with dark eyes blown-black with lust. He drinks in the sight of your chest and swallows thickly when your breasts bounce slightly when the mattress dips from his weight.

He runs his hands slowly up your legs and pushes them apart gently. He lays between your thighs and press sweet, soft kisses against your warm skin. He teases you with little nips of teeth and leaves behind little marks that you can remember him by tomorrow. He glances at you curiously when one of your hands brushes away the curtain of hair over his eyes. He stares hungrily at the tantalizing sight of your hand cupping one of your swollen tits; you pinch your nipple playfully when you’re sure he’s watching.

You little tease.

He licks a thick stripe up the inside of your thigh before he buries his face against your sex. Your surprised yelp trails off into a moan, and he hisses when your free hand tangles roughly in his hair. You roll your hips against his face while the fingers clenched in his hair keep his mouth exactly where you want him.

He’s messy when he goes down on you, teasing you with kitten licks between greedy sucks between his lips. Your skin grows slick with your own musky arousal and his spit. When he hums at your taste, you can almost feel it vibrating deep in your bones. Your body quakes delightfully as he coaxes you towards your release, and your shaky voice pleads for more.

He regrets not bringing a bottle of lube with him earlier; you're nearly begging for him to fuck you. He doesn’t want to get up even for a moment, so he settles for the next best thing: he traces your entrance with his tongue instead. One hand holds your hip down on the bed while the other snakes up your body and closes over your heavy tit. He squeezes the soft flesh as he slips his tongue inside you; his fingers dig into your hip when your body clenches around him. You rock your hips to encourage him to give you more, to touch you deeper inside, and he happily obliges.

He might not be fucking you with his cock, but it still doesn’t take long for you to fall apart from his ministrations. His name is a desperate chant that falls from your lips, punctuated by curses and groans and breathy whimpers. Your thighs tremble from your impending release, and his fingers end up covered with milk as he continues playing with your breasts. He ruts against the mattress to provide his cock some relief as you finally fall to pieces against his mouth. He coaxes the last remnants of pleasure from you, lapping greedily at your cum and flicking his tongue against your hole until you’re too sensitive and nearly begging for him to stop.

When you’re satisfied and exhausted, he slides up the bed and braces himself over you. Your chest heaves from exertion and your breasts are soft against his when he lowers his chest to yours. His cock hangs heavy between you and it smears precum where it rests on your belly. He lowers his head and kisses across your chest as he starts grinding his cock against you. Your hands card through his hair as you hold him against your chest. He latches onto one of your nipples and moans as a fresh burst of creamy fluid spills across his tongue.

KARASU

Karasu will gladly do anything you ask, or give you anything you want if it’s in his power to give.

He comes to the House of Lamentation as soon as you call, your voice thick with tears, and he takes a personal day off work to see you. He tries to keep the shock and confusion (and interest) from his expression when he arrives and discovers your temporary ailment. He hugs you and kisses your cheeks and leads you to your ensuite bathroom where he runs a warm shower for you. He changes your damp, milk-stained sheets while you wash. He has a clean, dry set of pajamas waiting for you when you step out in your bathrobe.

He does all these things, and he offers to do anything else you need, because he loves you no matter what. It surprises him when you ask him to fuck you, and for the first time since he arrived that morning, he hesitates. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, because he does. He’s filled to the brim with desire for you, a never ending itch just below the surface of his skin that only finds relief when he’s inside you.

Karasu expected that you might like a relaxing day in front of the TV. He could help you stay clean and dry while your…larger chest…continues leaking. He thought about ordering your favourite takeout for lunch, and maybe going for a walk in the garden if you’re up to it later.

The thought of spending the day in bed with you never crossed his mind. The idea is awfully tempting, but above all else, he’s concerned about hurting you somehow. It's not a risk he's willing to take, but you reassure him it'll be fine as you unfasten your robe and let it drop carelessly at your feet. He stares at your naked body and realizes that he’s powerless to deny you; if you want him so badly, you can have him.

One thing you can't lie about is your chest; your breasts are heavy and swollen, and he knows they can’t be comfortable. You’re surprisingly shy about letting him touch them, so he doesn’t ask. However, you seem to have a clever idea when you stack your pillows and cover them with a towel. You kneel on the bed and lay with your chest resting comfortably on the pillows to support your breasts while the towel catches any fluid that leaks out. The extra cushioning helps relieve some of the strain on your shoulders.

Karasu can’t deny that you make an extremely desirable sight like this: your back curves beautifully in this position, and your ass is raised high in the air when you lean forward. He strips quickly and the mattress dips slightly under him when he kneels onto the bed. He shuffles into position behind you and runs his hands up and down your lower back before smoothing over the generous swell of your hips and ass.

He prefers to see your face when he fucks you, but you wiggle your hips impatiently and he admits that this position is tantalizing in its own way. If you’d rather feel pleasure than discomfort, why would he deny you when your body begs him so beautifully?

He slicks his fingers with lube and rubs them together for a moment to warm them. You gasp softly when his hand explores between your legs and brushes teasingly against your entrance. He rubs his fingers across the sensitive opening, and each little noise you make shoots straight through him to his cock; he’s already hard and dripping for you.

He ignores the ache of his own desire as he slips one finger inside you. Your body is so inviting, so soft and pliable under his touch. You might’ve begged for him before, but he thinks he might be even more desperate than you are now. He adds another finger, and a third quickly after that. He stretches you wide and savors the whimpered pleas falling endlessly from your lips when you beg him to fuck you already.

He positions himself behind you and rubs his cock between your thighs so the messy slick and lube coats his shaft. He holds you steady with one hand curled around your hip while the other guides his cock tip to your entrance. He slips inside with a groan and pushes in until he’s fully sheathed inside you with one deep stroke.

Sweat beads along his brow and rolls down his temples. He gives you a moment to adjust as your greedy little hole wraps snuggly around his cock. There’s nothing sweeter than the hot, tight embrace of your body clenching desperately around him. When you push back slightly with your hips to grind against him, he finally starts to move. He’s slow and steady so the force of his thrusts don’t put too much weight on your chest.

He pauses when you whimper quietly, but before he can ask what’s wrong, he sniffs the milky scent of your discharge in the air.

“Don’t—don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly, hands fisting the sheets.

He snaps his hips harder than before—there’s something about the whiny tremor in your voice that makes lust surge through his veins. “Making a mess already, dear one?”

You moan his name and roll your hips, trying so desperately to fuck yourself on his cock. He rarely talks dirty like this, and you like it. You nod eagerly with a quiet, uh huh. You roll your hips and urge him to move harder, and deeper and faster, and he obeys. He meets your rhythm, panting heavily as he pounds into you. A stream of curses and moans and grunts fall from his lips while your own pleased noises mix with his own.

The bed frame groans and creaks beneath you, but he can still hear the obscene squelch of his cock dragging against your walls as he thrusts inside you. His own release builds inside him as his pace becomes rougher and faster; he won’t last very long but he'll be damned if he comes before you do. He leans against your back and reaches between your legs so he can stroke you with his wet, sticky fingers. “Come for me, you beautiful thing, that’s it—I want to feel you come on my cock, you‘re so perfect for me, just a little bit more—”

Your orgasm crashes over you as he coos filthy praise against your ear. He strokes you through it until your sinful vice tightens around his cock and he comes too. He pumps into you lazily as thick ropes of cum make his thrusts wet and sloppy. His hips finally stutter to a halt when he’s too sensitive to keep going. His softening cock slips from your body and he collapses beside you with a drawn-out groan.

You rest flat on your tummy while you catch your breath, but there’s a pleased smile curling your lips when you turn your head to look at him. “That helped,” you admit cheekily, and you both break into bashful laughter. “I like it when you’re a little rough,” you admit as you reach for his hand.

He laces his fingers with yours and nuzzles against your shoulder. “Let me order something for us to eat,” he suggests. “After that, maybe we can experiment with other ways to help you feel better.”

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