#maybe with those things could get more bearable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monzamash · 8 months

Text

off the record — lando norris

"the line between personal and professional was already so blurred; so incomprehensibly faint that anyone looking in would have to squint to see it." lando norris x you (femreader) | 2.1k rating – 18+ (sex, coarse language, drug references) masterlist

The media pen was mayhem after what had been an eventful morning on track. Cameras hoisted every which way, journalists vying for their chance to get front row. And then there was you; little old you trying your best to muscle into every nook and cranny available, wrestling with the big boys and girls. You were a bit of a hot shot now, rising through the ranks online as a media personality and bringing it to the stalwarts of mainstream media.

And you were good – really good. An exceptional storyteller and an extractor of sorts when it came to getting the scoop, something you had honed in on during your days working freelance before eventually realising your potential. Somehow, you’d made it here. Reporting for Sky Sports. Coming to you live from Monaco. Dream shit.

“Lando Norris…” You started, microphone locked and loaded in front of the sweaty, nonchalant McLaren driver.

“Felt like you left a little bit out on track in practice this morning. P10 – where do you think you can get the car in qualifying this afternoon?”

“P1 obviously,” Lando quipped, chewing through his comically large drinking straw in an attempt to hide his smirk. Mocking.

“Yeah?”

“What do you reckon?” He asked, leaning forward ever so slightly with a mischievous glint in his eye that had you rolling yours.

You shrugged, “Wouldn’t count the McLaren car out, that’s for sure.”

“The car and…” Lando smirk widened, lips still pursed and baiting.

“The driver too? Maybe?” Dickhead.

“Maybe that too…” You gave in with a sigh, eliciting a wide smile from the man standing in front of a gaggle of reporters, waiting for your next question with snickering expressions.

“So high expectations going into quali then?”

It had always been like this with Lando from the moment you stuck your little hand held recorder in his face at Bahrain last year to now. He knew he could wind you up and find levity in whatever situation he found himself in at the end of a session – good or bad. It was always a friendly back and forth between journalist and driver. Harmless banter to make the monotony of the media pen just that little bit more bearable. Professional, until it wasn’t.

“The flirting is getting out of hand,” You whispered into his kiss, teeth clashing, hands fumbling as you fell back on your hotel bed with a huff.

“But you look so fucking cute asking me questions like that,” He growled in retort, hands making quick work of the jeans clinging to your hips – the ones that had been taunting him all day.

Everywhere he turned he saw you swaying from side to side, aching to have this moment with you now.

“Well duh,” You quipped confidently, eyes fluttering shut as his feverish lips ghosted above the damp patch of excitement between your thighs. Focus.

“But it has to stop.”

“Oh you want me to stop right now?”

“I’m not talking about…” You stopped mid-sentence when you caught the mischievous glimmer in Lando’s eyes, lips pulled into a smirk, “Okay, fuck you.”

“You love it,” He breathed out in barely a whisper, leaving a trail of marks down the inside of your thigh before finally giving you what you were waiting for.

“And don’t pretend like the thought of me going down on you when you’re asking me those silly little questions doesn’t turn you on.”

Well he fucking had you there.

Lando punctuated his point with a long, teasing stripe to your cunt before burying himself between your thighs, only coming up for air when you tugged on his curls and demanded a kiss. He knew how you were, how needy and insatiable you could be. This was a thing now; a god forsaken mistake in Australia that had turned into a runaway train. Neither of you could stop it.

“I can’t live without this.”

The desperation spilled from your mouth in a guttural moan as you titled you hips upwards and let the twisted knots in the depths of your stomach unravel. The sight of you thrashing in pleasure below knocked the wind out of Lando, eyes and mind focused solely on fucking you through your high so perfectly, fingers bruising the buttery flesh of your thighs.

“God – fuck…” He could barely breathe, “Don’t – you don’t have to.”

And with one last pump, he was coming into the condom he’d slipped on without you even knowing. It was second-hand now, muscle memory and so fucking good. But it didn’t start that way – no, it was awkward goodbyes and a cold ‘thanks for that’ which made you regret ever answering your hotel door. The situation had changed in the blink of an eye – now he was lingering, kissing you in places that had you melting into the mussed sheets and begging him to stay a little bit longer.

It was pathetic how reliant you’d become and how distant you could be when he had to leave. The leaving part was the thing that changed and had you questioning all of it. It used to be that you could go shower and come back to an empty bed and not even flinch. Four months of he is just a causal fuck, no hard feelings to now not being so stoic on that sentiment but you wouldn’t admit that. Not to yourself and especially not to the man peering down at you – all lazy smiles and dimples and ocean eyes. You were fucked.

“I gotta go,” Lando whispered, brushing the stray strands of hair from your flushed face, pout present and needy.

“You don’t really though.”

“If I don’t go now I’ll never leave.”

The little voice in your head was monologuing – screaming out all of the reasons why he should stay because maybe deep down that’s what you wanted. But you couldn’t have that. The line between personal and professional was already so blurred; so incomprehensibly faint that anyone looking in would have to squint to see it. It was the devil on your shoulder that tormented you when it came to Lando, pushing the boundaries more and more every time you had him in your clutches. Risking it all.

“Kiss me before you go.”

And he did. Passionately, like a man in love because maybe he was. Maybe he had been for a lot longer than he’d realised – somewhere between Miami and now he let his guard down too far, too soon. You were flawless though, unattainably perfect that he couldn’t be blamed for falling victim to your allure – sharp eyes following you around the paddock, wishing he was the little notebook in your back pocket that garnered all your attention on race weekends.

“See you tomorrow?”

“If you’re lucky,” Lando quipped, knowing he would be the one curled up in his cold, lonely bed for the rest of the night waiting impatiently for tomorrow.

In any other circumstance you would think the two of you were like magnets, drawn together amongst the travelling circus that was your workplace. But you had a job to do and that was to seek out drivers and team principals, digging deep for any story you could find. There was a trust that you’d built with the teams, all of them respected your work and knew that you weren’t malicious; in fact you were the opposite.

“I really appreciate you not writing about my drunkenness last weekend… It wasn’t my finest moment unfortunately.”

Oscar was a rookie driver but also a total sweetheart, who admittedly had found himself in a precarious late night adventure in a Miami nightclub post-grand prix. How he ended up that drunk, you had no idea but you saved him from himself with the help of Lando, who Oscar would’ve thought was suspiciously close by if he wasn’t black out drunk.

“I got you, buddy but I think your Australian citizenship might have to be revoked after an effort like that… Very disappointing,” You teased in jest, both smiling into the blistering Monacan sun as you walked side by side into the paddock.

“I woke up with an L on my forehead which I can only assume Lando put there so I think my ego’s bruised enough thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah,” You cringed, “That might’ve been my eyeliner.”

“Is that right…”

Oscar’s tone was laced with suspicion but before he could quiz you on why you were still there that night and that he had started to notice the budding friendship between you and his teammate, he was being whisked away by one of his McLaren publicists. You were thankful that they'd taken his curious questions away – how the tables had turned.

Lando was watching you wander through the paddock behind his dark sunglasses, as had been the trend all weekend. Every time you glanced around he was there, wondering if he could sneak over and say hello. Sure, you were friends with a few of the drivers outside of work but when you stepped over that white line, the barriers of professionalism came up again. They had to, otherwise you would end up in a situation like this – gawking at someone you shouldn’t be.

But god he looked good.

He wore what he knew was your biggest weakness – a backwards cap and the black denim jacket he slung over your shoulders on that dark, stormy night in London a few weeks ago when Imola was cancelled and you needed a fix. Hotel hook-ups only. And all of this had you asking yourself, how on earth could you deny a good morning from the man who was the subject of your every desire?

“Good morning.”

“Well it’s not a bad one,” You smiled, more energised than Lando who was yawning into the crook of his arm, “Late night?”

He loved it when you did that. Sneaking little inside jokes into seemingly innocent conversation, naughty reminders of the nights you shared together when nobody was watching. The cheeky grin tugging on his lips a definite tell-tale that he enjoyed it – the tells getting easier and easier to spot the more you got to know him. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought that maybe he was into this as much as you. Little did you know.

“Yeah just squeezed in a late cardio sesh – you know how it is…”

A soft ahh slipped from your smirking lips, eyes trained on your path ahead as Lando strolled alongside, “What’s on the agenda today?”

You shrugged, half out of genuine cluelessness and the other half deflecting how nervous you were. Working in the media was your dream but walking through the hallowed halls of a sport you had loved for your entire life and that dream coming true made your stomach churn with every emotion under the sun. Especially in Monaco.

“You nervous?” Lando asked quietly, shaking you from your thoughts and panicked that you were talking out loud.

“Huh? Oh…” You waved him off and chuckled, “No – I mean, yeah but I always feel like this on race morning… But obviously you’re probably a lot more nervous than me so it’s nothing…” You were a stuttering mess and all Lando wanted to do was reach out and give you a hug.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was your little secret, a delicious secret that only the two of you knew and he didn’t want to ruin that. Instead, he dug his hands into his jean pockets a little deeper and gave you a reassuring nudge. Shoulder to shoulder, the same way you laid together the night before after what could only be described as the best sex of your life. Lives.

“My mum always said that nerves mean you care,” Lando’s voice was lower than before – a seriousness taking over, “You’ll do great, as always.”

“Thank you,” You matched his tone, “Hopefully I’m interviewing Lando Norris, Monaco Grand Prix winner…”

That’s all you really wanted deep down. Not the breaking story of the weekend or the drama surrounding contract talks at Red Bull. Just for the guy you had grown profoundly fond of to have some semblance of good luck for once. He’d worked hard for it, you’d seen it first hand and you’d seen the heartbreak when things weren’t going his way. Alas, that was what started this whole situation – frustrated post-race sex. Chef’s kiss.

Lando simply rolled his eyes and sighed loudly before leaning in a tiny bit closer than what you considered a safe workplace distance, “Kiss for good luck then?”

“Get the fuck out of here!” You laughed, kicking his calf with your platform boot as his infectious cackle of a laugh echoed through the growing crowd.

You watched him disappear somewhere between the motorhomes, searching for his team. The lingering feeling in your stomach made you slightly nauseous and a little excited for the next run-in with him. It was like a game of cat and mouse and you weren’t sure who was who but you liked it. More than you wanted to admit because he was Lando fucking Norris – f1's most eligible bachelor, the naughty boy from Bristol, all curls and dimples and undeniable charm. You couldn't help but wonder how many others he had wrapped around his finger like you.

He's just a casual fuck, you mumbled under your breath as you flicked open your notebook and got to work.

masterlist | askbox

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #monzamashmasterlist #lando norris x reader #formula 1 imagine #off the record fic #off the record series

2K notes · View notes

hellyeahsickaf · 6 months

Text

The way addicts and chronically ill people are dehumanized is so exhausting

The normalization of this shit in medical and casual settings is genuinely mind boggling. Addicts and disabled people go through so much bullshit. I've dealt with many fucked up doctors when I just needed help

I had a kidney infection, some months back. This is always extremely medically urgent, and I was likely only hours from sepsis. I went to the hospital reporting my pain to be a 9/10. 9 because my 10 was gallstones. I experienced severe malpractice at the hospital and the doctor reported exams that never occured and false information while making me wait with nothing more than tylenol to hold me over (didn't touch the pain) and bring my fever down but that's a whole other story

They did however, deny me the pain medication I needed until it was time to go home. I'm deathly allergic to NSAIDS, but that's something an addict might say so they witheld pain relief because they'd rather me suffer just in case I'm a different kind of sick. An entire night, maybe 6 hours in the ER and they couldn't give me anything, not a small dose of morphine or one norco even a few hours prior to take the edge off of the pain while I was curled up shaking and crying. Just in case I was an addict looking for my fix, and my suffering was just withdrawals and good acting. In that case maybe I deserved it and should be denied my humanity. God forbid in that case I'm so desperate to alleviate unbearable withdrawals that I spend all night in the ER crying. Not the first time I've experienced red tape just to get relief from excruciating pain

But whatever. As per protocol I was asked to follow up with my pcp. So a few days later I called to set an appointment, but I'd also run out of norco and desperate to relieve the pain I asked if I could be filled even enough for a few days, until the pain was bearable. I had difficulty walking, laying down, and I again, can't take most pain relievers. The receptionist was nice and understanding, actually got me in touch with the doctor because she wanted me to be able to get my refill. Probably heard the pain in my voice even. She believed me

She transfers me over to the doctor and I tell him I'd like a follow up and ask if he could fill my painkillers. I would've acceped a no from him, I just needed my follow up. He asked about my condition, I told him my diagnosis and how much pain I was in

And he laughed.

Got a real hoot out of it, like he had me all figured out. Like he caught me trying to cheat the system. I must be trying to get high or make some money with a few days worth of norco as i'm nearly in tears from the pain even while calling

He tells me through his laughter "I don't prescribe painkillers for 'kidney infections'" saying it with a mocking emphasis on those words, as if I'd said "stubbed toe". Follows with "Yeah haha, bye." and hangs up on me. No follow up like I called for. Needless to say I no longer have a pcp but truly if he thought I was an addict trying to take advantage of him he should have still treated me professionally. Maybe not cackled when I said my pain was excruciating for a start

I just don't understand why the hell so many doctors can be so apathetic to people's suffering. Addicts deserve better and so do disabled people- whether you think they're addicts or not. The assumption that we're lying, trying to trick them and are feigning pain to do it is disgusting, listening to your patients is so important. And if that were the case they could have some sympathy and ask themselves what it would take for someone to go those lengths, take such drastic measures and go through that trouble to obtain those substances.

Addiction is not a moral failing. Many disabled and chronically ill people unfortunately rely on medications that have addictive properties. About 80% of heroin addicts first misused prescription drugs. However only about 4-6% of those addicted to prescription drugs switch to things like heroin. And instead of help or compassion for people who just need help (addicts or not), they just figure we're one in the same and treat us like subhuman degenerates, leeches on society. And I think people need to change how they view addiction. Doctors need to change how they view addiction

#cfs #chronic pain #chronic fаtiguе ѕуndrоmе #chronic illness #fibromyalgia #disability #actually disabled #spoonie #me/cfs #cfs/me #ableism #ableism tw #medical ableism #addiction #ok to reblog #medical stuff #tw drugs

2K notes · View notes

angelkissiies · 1 year

Text

pretty little things

abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

cw : modern!au , hockey!abby , dealer!ellie , ditzy/girly!reader, mentions of drug use, polyamory, threesome, degradation, praise, use kink, dumbification, mind breaking, subspace, oral (f!receiving), slight mean!dom energy, other things ? maybe ? NSFR

wc : 5.1K

a / n : kinda went a little crazy with this one. my bad ! if you see any spelling or grammar mistakes, SQUINT

“Hi, Ellie.” You smiled, holding your skates close to your chest as you leaned against her door frame. You were no stranger to the girl, a long-time customer, but also a close friend. Those words didn’t quite equate to the situationship you found yourself in, considering that you were already taken by the captain of the hockey team, not that she minded.

The brunette bit back a smile, turning her key in the lock before pushing the door open, turning on her heel to look at you. “What did I tell you about pretty girl discounts? Bad for business.” She teased, waving you in with a playful eye roll, her words were empty- seeing as she found herself rarely charging you. “Usual?”

You practically skipped into her room, bubbling with excitement as you placed yourself onto her futon. “Actually, I'm not here to buy-,” You paused, recanting the statement before continuing. “Not yet at least.” You come here with a mission in mind, well, more so a request.

“What’s going on with you, doll?” She asked, raising an eyebrow as she pressed the door closed, dragging her conversed feet on the carpet as she came to sit in the chair adjacent to you. Her hair was tossed into a messy half-up half-down bun, making strands fall and frame her face as she leaned forward to assess the situation further, hands rubbing on the rough material of her jeans. “Is it Abby? Is she not cool with this anymore?”

It was something she’d come to fear, seeing as most girlfriends wouldn't be so willing to let their girl get with someone else, though the past few months had flown by issue free- Abby joining the two of you on outings when she was able to. Given the history they had with each other, it was tense but bearable, Ellie finding ways to push down her attraction to the burly blonde- though secretly hoping that she’d make another move. But, she never batted so much as an eyelash to the triangle you three had going on, it terrified Ellie at first- thinking that somehow Abby was going to find a way to scare her off campus, seeing as she knew about her dealing. That day never came, which made her suspicious of the way you were acting now.

You placed the skates down on her couch, leaning forward in a way that crinkled the pristine white of your uniform- making it look yellow in the sunlight. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” You hummed excitedly, eyes darting down to her lips momentarily before you corrected yourself, moving back up to meet her hazy eyes. “We talked and..” You trailed off, gauging her reaction.

“And? And what?” Ellie huffed, brows knitting together.

You giggled quietly, lowering your voice as if someone could hear you. “She wants to make it official. You, me, her. Together.” You gushed, an excited smile splayed across your blushed lips. It was something you’d been talking to the both of them about forever, knowing the residual feelings they both held for each other after their not-so-secret fling freshman year, so to say you were excited was an understatement. “We’re gonna have dinner at my place tonight, to talk it over some more.” You spoke the last part like an offer, not wanting her to feel obliged to come if she wasn’t ready.

Ellie gulped slightly, her lips parting as she searched for the words to say. It had been so long since she’d even considered the option of being in a polyamorous relationship with the two of you. It crossed her mind, of course, seeing as you tended to bring it up, but she didn't think it was possible- mainly the fact that she just assumed Abby hated her. It made the most sense in her mind, why wouldn't she hate her? Ellie was the reason she was outed as a lesbian, not that it was completely her fault but ‘let's fuck in the locker room and hope nobody comes in’ definitely had something to do with it. That was the end of their fling, the feelings just left to rot away- though in Ellie’s case, they did quite the opposite. They ended up growing into something untameable. “A-are you sure? That’s really unlike her-,” She began, only to be cut off by your hand coming to rest on top of her now sweaty one.

“She asked for this specifically, I didn’t bring it up.” You clarified, watching as her emerald eyes lit up at the statement, though she quickly tried to cover the reaction by looking away. You bit back a smile, squeezing her hand gently. “Please come?”

She nodded, almost too quickly, making herself dizzy as she stood with you. “Okay, yeah, I’ll come.” She spoke, giving your hand a small squeeze, shaking her head slightly as she tried to snap out of the anxious haze she’d dropped into. “Uh, anyways, you said not yet– should I bring a couple tonight? Is Abby,” She paused, words tightening as she said her name. “Uh, still cool with it?” She glanced towards the couch, where your skates rested, before grabbing them and holding them out towards you.

You gave her a smile, nodding as you took tiny back steps towards the door– the sharp beeping of your watch now telling you, you were late. “Yes, please. That would be great, Els.” You hummed, taking them and practically bounding to the door, sliding out before you could let yourself get more distracted. The small squeak of a ‘thank you’ echoed as you disappeared down the hall, leaving the brunette in silence.

What the hell?

The day passed unreasonably fast, Ellie doing everything in her power to slow it down, resorting to working on physics homework– which only made things worse. For once, she actually understood the lesson and suddenly she was left with a stack of finished papers and a dinner date in half an hour. Her anxiety shooting through the roof as she paced her bedroom, a pocket full of weed and throat full of bile– there was no way she saw out of this. As much as she wanted, needed, to believe that Abby really wanted her again– something inside of her was convinced this was still some kind of sick joke, a prank orchestrated in rebuttal to the hell she’d ended up putting the blonde through.

A buzz lit up her phone in the dim light of her room, the message reading ‘Are you on the way? I’m making dinner now. Abby’s gonna be getting here in like ten minutes, her practice ran over.’

Ellie’s heart leapt, pushing her into action, as her feet carried her into the living room– grabbing the nearest jacket and leaving her dorm in a rush of panicked puffs of breath.

‘Yeah, leaving now! See you soon, doll.’ She rushed, heart hammering as her shaky hands fumbled with the lock on her door, finally managing to click it into place before speeding off down the hall. It was a fifteen-minute walk to your place off campus, making her internally kick herself for waiting so long, now having to be the last one arriving– something she knew Abby would notice.

Fifteen minutes, which meant 900 seconds for her to change her mind and turn around.

899..

Your practice had gotten cut short that afternoon, allowing you to go shopping and gather all the necessities for dinner– for that you were thankful, so as you bustled around the kitchen in a pair of shorts and a– painfully small, as your mother would say– baby tee, it was all coming together just as it should’ve. The smell of the cake you’d started baking on a whim filling the entire house with a soft vanilla scent, making you hum in appreciation. It was a welcome distraction, allowing you to focus on something other than the growing anxiety in your tummy as you awaited the arrival of your girls.

As if clockwork, the front door lock snapped out of place and you heard the heavy footsteps of none other than Abby coming down the hallway. “Pretty?” She called out, a bag of sports equipment tucked under her arm. “Man, it smells really good in here.” She commented, turning the corner to halt in the doorway of the kitchen, letting the bag come down onto the floor with an obnoxious ‘thump.’ “Oh wow.”

You turned on your heel, a smile pulling at your plush lips as you beckoned her inside. “How was practice, Bee?” You asked, wiping your hand on the half apron hanging around your waist before reaching out to her– pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. “Missed you!”

The blonde chuckled, pulling you impossibly closer, resting her head atop yours. She released a tense breath she’d been holding all day, the situation at hand being the reason she’d been made to stay so late at practice. She’d been so in her head, she’d caused the team to fall behind, therefore she opted to stay behind for everyone and pick up– that usually being a team effort, but she took it on in an attempted apology. “Missed you too,” She sighed, strong arms holding you flush to her chest. “Practice was good, long is all.”

You nodded, pressing a tiny kiss to her chest as you pulled away to look up at her. “Are you sure you still wanna do this? We can wait if you’re not ready.” You reminded, taking in the lines of stress pulling at her eyes. “Ellie is practically shitting herself about this, so nobody would be upset.” You chuckled, alluding to the mess of a text you’d received just before Abby arrived– something about being stuck behind some college tour and being sorry for being late– not that you minded, you thought it was cute.

Abby perked up at your words, taking a small gulp as she imagined the girl on her way over. There was nothing else she wanted quite like to call this all off, the idea of actually getting a chance to tell Ellie how she felt sent a wave of nausea over her, it had been so long that she’d begun to fear that the girl had lost the feelings they shared– that was scarier than anything that could’ve come out of tonight. “H-how did she seem?” She asked, words falling upon deaf ears as a knocking echoed down the hall– making her stomach lurch.

“That’s Els!” You giggled, tearing yourself from her grip. “Could you put something on the tv? So you guys won't be bored while I finish up?” You practically skipped down the hallway, slippers almost making you slip as you lost traction, quickly making a move to fix the flyaways that fell from behind your ears before jerking the door open to reveal a slightly damp Ellie. Your mouth fell open, reaching out to pull her inside as you noticed the heavy rain that had begun sometime between Abby’s arrival and Ellie’s.

She quirked a small awkward smile as she shuffled inside, instinctually kicking off her waterlogged converse. “Hey,” She began, glancing around inside for Abby before settling back in on you and the, now, contemplative look on your face.

“C’mon, there is absolutely no way you can stay in those clothes. You are gonna get so sick.” You tutted, practically dragging her from the door and to your bedroom across the hall. If there was one thing you knew about the girl, it was that her immune system reminded you of that of a victorian child– frail and pretty much useless. “You can borrow my clothes, okay?”

Ellie opened her mouth to object but decided against it as a chill entered her spine, not wanting to fall victim to another cold. Yes, the idea of wearing pieces from your– mostly– pink wardrobe was unsettling. But no, she wasn’t about to say that to you– she knew it would hurt your feelings. So she watched as you dug through a basket of folded clothes on your bed, freeing a (thankfully) non-cropped white shirt and a pair of cookie monster printed pajama shorts– pushing them towards her with a triumphant smile.

“These will definitely fit you! So, change and then meet in the living room? Abby’s putting something on to watch.” You hummed, stepping back to the door to give her some privacy. “If you need some new socks, you know where they are.” With that, you backed out, letting the door come to a soft close behind you.

The girl took a small breath, digging the baggy of pre-rolls from her pocket– thankfully double-bagged to account for the weather. “Shit.” She hissed, tossing them down on the plush white of your blankets– the contrast almost enough to make her laugh if she wasn’t so nervous. She shrugged herself out of her shirt, letting it fall to the ground with a moist plop. This was the worst day for this, not only was she late but she was now stuck wearing a pair of your pajamas– she almost threw up at the idea of Abby seeing her like this. Sure, it wasn’t her fault but as she wrestled with her jeans– she could've sworn her subconscious was laughing at her. “How the fuck did this happen.” She spoke into the empty room, sliding into the shorts you’d given her and letting them hang on her hips loosely.

She ducked down to peer into your vanity mirror, exhaling in a short puff before navigating to the door– hand beginning to gain a tremor. This was it. Leaving this room meant accepting whatever fate was awaiting her outside. “Shit, shit, shit.” She whispered as she opened the door, exiting the room and b-lining to the living room.

Abby was mindlessly scrolling through movies you’d saved to her watch list, hair now released from its tormenting braid. “Pretty, are you sure you don't need any help?” She called out, feeling useless as she just sat unmoving before the rapidly flickering screen. “I really don’t mi–,” Her words were cut short as she watched Ellie appear in the doorway. “Hi.”

She froze in her step, giving the blonde an awkward smile. “Hey, Abby.” She said simply, tugging the ends of the shirt down further to account for the lack of coverage on her legs as she glanced around for a place to sit– but only coming up on the cushion beside the burly woman. “Do you mind if i–?” She asked, nodding towards the space next to her.

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.” Abby responded, scooting over to give her some more space, tearing her eyes from the girls in fear she might see right through the ‘chill girl’ act she was putting on. Her hands came to rest on her lap, the remote almost completely forgotten, wringing her fingers together anxiously. “Nice outfit.” She joked halfheartedly, giving a small nod to the tiny cookie print poking out from under her shirt.

Ellie let a small laugh pull from her lips, the anxiety easing slightly as she found some common ground. “Yeah, thanks. It’s sesame street couture.” She clicked her tongue against her teeth, pulling her legs up to cross under her as she sat down. “Probably should’ve brought an umbrella but, you know.”

The blonde nodded, biting the inside of her cheek before responding. “Or, uh, you could call me.” She offered, glancing over towards the girl for a second– their eyes meeting. “I could pick you up next time.”

She felt her heart clench, a sudden urge to explode entering her stomach. “No, no. That’s okay, I don’t want to bother you.” She could’ve died on the spot, the breaking in her voice betraying her private thoughts, face flushing. This was so stupid, she felt so fucking stupid, here Abby was being the most relaxed person alive and she was stumbling over simple sentences just by being in the girls' vicinity.

“It’s no problem to me, really, just call.” Abby pushed, eyes shifting down to the girl's lips before she corrected herself— snapping back up to meet her eyes. Something inside of her felt familiar, an age-old ache that arose in her chest at the lingering glances and nervous laughter “Ellie, I—,”

“Abby—,”

They both paused, incredulous laughter falling from their lips at the coincidence.

“Sorry, you go first.”

“No, no. I insist.”

Ellie reached over to punch the girl playfully on the shoulder when her wrist was caught in Abby’s hand— the sudden change in her approach sent a lump into her throat. Did she do something wrong? Was she moving too fast? “Oh, I’m sorry,” she began, coughing slightly to dispel the tension that now surrounded them. “I didn’t mean to—,”

Abby couldn’t resist it anymore, using her grip on the girl's wrist to jerk her forward— their lips crashing together in a surprised mess of spit and teeth. She’d gone so long under the anxiety of being around Ellie that she’d begun to forget the longing she had for her. Though, upon seeing her it was like that spark had relit itself— sending an undying hunger into her stomach as she begged for just a single taste of what their love was. “Fuck, sorry.” She huffed, trying to pry herself away from the stunned girl before her.

The brunette watched, bewildered, as Abby inched away from her lips— hands moving up to secure in her black t-shirt. She pulled her back down and onto her lips, muscles relaxing as she finally realized how badly she needed her. This was what she’d been searching for— no amount of girls or parties or weed had ever filled the gaps in her chest like she could. She sunk back against the arm of the couch, hands moving fervently across the solid surface of her chest, lips bruising from the force of the kiss.

You’d finally taken the cake from the oven, its slight golden color making a pleased smile arise on your lips as you replaced the empty oven rack with a small casserole dish containing what was going to be the night's dinner. Your fingers hovered over the dials, lip pulling from between your teeth as you clicked it to 400 degrees, hoping that it could be done in thirty minutes.

The house felt a little too quiet all of a sudden, making your brows knit together as you considered the possibility that Ellie had left. Surely that wasn’t the reason for the silence, you’d have heard the door— right?

You abandoned your post in the kitchen, untying your apron and leaving it on the counter as you stalked into the hall— glancing down towards your bedroom door. It was closed, as it usually was, but it occurred to you that you hadn’t heard Ellie come out. Maybe she got cold feet, you reasoned, tiptoeing down to the room and giving the door a small knock.

Silence.

“Ellie?” Nothing.

You pushed the door open and took in the emptiness of the room, eyes landing on the pile of wet clothes she’d left on your floor before letting a soft breath of relief fall from your mouth. She was still here. You locked in on the baggy of pre-rolls you’d asked her to bring and your face lit up, bouncing over to the bed to pick them up before practically running down into the living room.

You’d not had a second to speak before your eyes widened, landing on the two girls in a messy battle for dominance. The sight sent an ache directly into your cunt, your legs unconsciously squeezing together as you tried to silently back out of the doorway. That was until you tripped over the edge of the carpet and landed— loudly— on the plush chair near the door.

Abby’s head snapped up, her eyes blown with a primal lust as her lips pulled back into a slight smirk. “Little pervert, aren’t you?” She teased, flushed face coming back down to peer at Ellie— who was catching her breath. “We have an audience.”

The brunette pushed herself up on her elbows to look at you, tongue darting out to wet her lips as she smiled. “Let’s not disappoint her then.” She spoke, eyes eating up the slight tremor in your legs as you clenched them together tighter. “Let’s give her what she wants.”

Your face burned bright red, the transparency of your actions making you feel dumb under their gaze. Yet, even as they tore their attention from you— divulging back into their desperate pursuit of each other, you couldn’t stop the ache growing in your stomach. “M’god.” You choked out, quiet enough to avoid drawing their attention off of each other. You could feel the warmth spreading in your panties, fabric sticking to your cunt uncomfortably as you rubbed your legs together.

Abby was right, you must have been a pervert. No normal person would get this turned on at the sight of two girls kissing. They weren’t even doing anything, just kissing— and here you were, shorts beginning to feel damp from how wet you’d managed to get just from the sight. Your hand inched closer to your waistband, unable to shake the overwhelming urge to touch yourself, feeling beyond filthy.

You felt eyes land back on you, your hand stopping just as your fingers broke the waistband and tore your mindless gaze from the flexing of Abby’s arms as they caged Ellie beneath her.

The girl had a devious look in her eyes, giving you a small nod of encouragement as she watched your fingers disappear under the fabric of your shorts— nipples erect under the exposing t-shirt, it was like you were made to be seen. “Fuck, she’s so pretty.” Ellie panted, scooting up to a sitting position, Abby’s knee putting delicious friction on her cunt as she shifted. “Look at her, Abby.”

Abby’s eyes lifted to take you in, a familiar flush in your cheeks as your fingers came into contact with your slick. “She gets wet so fast, bet she’s soaked.” She stated, fingers tensing in the upholstery of the couch. If it was up to her, she’d have you wedged between the two of them already, but it wasn’t just up to her anymore. It was up to them.

“You like seeing us together, silly girl?” Ellie asked, her hands coming to cup Abby’s chest, using her two fingers to roll her hardened nipples.

The blonde hissed, a broken moan slipping from her mouth as she broke her gaze from you and redirected it to Ellie. There was a moment of silent communication, a couple beats passing before Abby spoke. “Come here, pretty.”

You whimpered slightly, fingers slipping from your shorts as you scrambled to get back onto your feet. When Abby spoke, you listened. “Y-yes?” You said quietly, bright eyes glazed over with lust as you tried to soothe the pulsing in your stomach.

Ellie leaned back, opening up the middle seat to you, her body trapping you on one side— Abby’s trapping you on the other until you were flush against both of them. “How would you like,” she began, pushing your hair back from your neck— dipping down to press a couple opened mouth kisses to the burning flesh. “— to have us both, right now?”

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening and closing without a sound coming out. There was something so dizzying about the situation, making your mind leave your body as you glanced between the two of them.

“C’mon, pretty baby, gotta use your words.” Abby’s hand snaked between your legs, cupping the soaked crotch of your thin shorts, a sinful groan escaping her lips. “Just say it and you won’t have to think anymore, promise. We’ll take care of you.”

The feeling sent a pang of desperation into your cunt, causing you to nod fervently. “Yes, pleasepleaseplease.” You gushed, hands coming to ravel in Abby’s stretched t-shirt, mind swimming as she dipped down to catch your lips in a kiss.

You felt hands everywhere. Having the two of them touching you in sync was like winning some type of sexual lottery— feeling their hot touches burn into your skin. You shouldn’t have been so easy, so messy, for them and you knew that very well, but you couldn’t help the mindset that seeped in with the slightest glimpse of their dominance. It was a drug.

Ellie’s hand dipped under the hem of your shorts, and then your panties, before coming to drag two fingers over your swollen clit. She pulled her lip in between her teeth, stopping disgustingly pornographic noises from leaving her mouth as she felt her hand get coated in your arousal. “Good fucking god,” She scoffed, letting her fingers begin to massage the puffed ball of nerves. “You could be a pornstar, doll.”

Your hips bucked into her fingers, craving more of what she was dishing out. A small gasp caused you to break your kiss with Abby, the noise eliciting from the girl behind you stuffing two fingers into your cunt. Your walls contracted around her at the sudden intrusion, slick dripping down her palm as she drove her fingers in and out of your drooling cunt. “Oh, god, Els.” You whined, letting your face fall flush with Abby’s chest.

The blonde paused for a moment before a wicked idea came into mind, her body peeling itself from yours as she stood up by the couch— unbuttoning her jeans. Her fingers moved quickly, discarding them by the coffee table before winding her fingers in your free-flowing hair and pushing you down onto your hands. “Such a dumb girl,” she tsked, settling onto the couch in front of you with her legs propped open, fingers dragging down to pull her soaked panties to the side. “You think you can make me cum, pretty?”

You nodded quickly, chest heaving as you crumpled under the pressure of Ellie’s fingers in your pulsing hole. “C-can. I can.” You shuddered, feeling the girl's fingers curl into your g-spot. The sight of the girl in front of you was enough to make your mouth water, her fingers now spreading the sticky folds for you.

“Show me.”

Ellie could’ve cum herself from the sight. Your back was arched in a way she’d only ever seen in porn, mouth now latched onto Abby’s weeping cunt as you struggled to eat her out through your whiny moans. It was like a wet dream she’d conjured up had actually panned out, the sudden realization that it was real making her clench around nothing. “Fucking hell.” She groaned, grabbing your free hand to force down her own boxers— your curious fingers coming to press into her clit. “Goddamn it, gentle, stupid.” She hissed, her words coming out harsher than she intended— but considering the way you clenched around her fingers, she took it as a good sign. “You like that? Want me to be mean to you?”

Abby’s eyes rolled back at the desperate licks reverberating with moans, the sensation going directly to her clit. Her hands wound in your hair, hips grinding down onto your mouth. “Yeah, she fucking like that.” She choked out, legs trembling. “Stupid girl likes to be bullied, gets her wet.”

You were seeing stars, the combination of Abby’s arousal on your tongue and Ellie’s fingers in your cunt were enough to overstimulate you into an empty space of submission. You struggled to keep up on Ellie’s clit, faltering with every hard thrust of her fingers, though you kept being snapped back into pace with the buck of her hips against your hand— allowing yourself to be used by them for their pleasure.

“Just like that, doll.” Ellie rasped, guiding your fingers into her own cunt, practically riding them with how hard her hips were jerking.

You dipped your tongue into Abby’s slit, using your nose to nudge her clit, feeling her thighs tense around your head. It was her telltale sign that she was close, hips jerking up to grind against your face.

A sharp moan rolled off of her lips as she squeezed her thighs together, trapping you in her cunt as she came, her cum coating your mouth and chin.

Ellie ground down against your digits, feeling the band rising in her stomach, chasing the climax she so desperately needed— her slim fingers driving in and out of your cunt despite the floaty feeling filling her head as she grew closer to orgasm. “Don’t you dare fucking stop.” She groaned, her head falling back as she fucked herself on your fingers, cunt pulsing.

You felt Abby’s legs relax, her flushed face coming into view as she panted— eyes cast down to take in the sight of you. “Good girl,” she praised, raising her hand to wipe the cum from your lips with a swipe of her thumb, before bringing the digit to her lips and tasting herself— making you whine. “Keep being good ‘n make Ellie cum.”

You nodded, eyes completely blown as you curled your fingers into her spongy spot, tongue darting out to collect the slick remaining on your lips. The feeling of tightness grew in your tummy as your body trembled under the pressure, a bubbling sensation beginning to spill over as your fingers spasmed inside of her— mouth falling open as your cunt clenched her slim fingers in between soft walls.

Ellie gasped, thighs clenching around your hand as her band snapped, a gush of liquid soaking your hand as she leaned against the back of the couch slightly for support. “Oh, fuck.” She sputtered, hair sticking to her forehead with sweat.

You slumped slightly, arms giving out beneath you, making your face come to rest on Abby’s bare thigh as she rubbed your hair gently. You didn’t dare to speak, fearing the words would come out as meaningless babble, eyes fluttering with contentment as you felt Ellie’s fingers slip from inside of you.

“Wait,” Ellie spoke suddenly, making a show out of taking a deep inhale, her face going pale. “Does anyone else smell that?”

Abby perked up, adjusting her underwear as she took a deep breath. “Oh shit!” She half laughed, sliding out from beneath you to dart into the kitchen. Much to her dismay, her speculations proved to be correct— a thick trail of smoke coming from the oven. “Ellie, uh, grab my phone and order in... I don't think this is salvageable.” She called into the living room, using your discarded apron to waft the smoke out of the room, making sure to click the oven off.

Your eyes went wide, sense returning to you in the shock of the moment, searching around frantically as you dropped from subspace. “Dinner! I-I ruined dinner,” You began, looking up to the girl as she spun you around to face her— hands cupping your cheeks. “Els, I ruined it.”

She shook her head, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “No, doll. You didn’t ruin anything.” She affirmed, the pad of her thumb caressing your flushed cheeks. “You fixed something much more important.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did.”

4K notes · View notes

johnpriceslamb · 3 months

Note

heyy is it okay if u maybe due a little story of arthur morgan?? i jus love him sm

arthur comes back to camp after a job in a bad angry mood since it didnt go to plan then the reader (being his sweetheart gf) cheers him up :(🩷 -🎀

𝓐𝓛𝓦𝓐𝓨𝓢 𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔𝓥𝓔𝓡 , ˗ˏˋ 🍓 ˎˊ˗

˗ˏˋ꒰ The obvious annoyance which swelled in his stomach almost dies instantly when he makes eye-contact with you. ꒱ ˎˊ˗

BEFORE YOU PROCEED! ┆female ! reader . hyper-fem ! reader . Arthur Morgan is a die-for 4 his sweetheart gf . OOC ! Arthur Morgan . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than character mentioned below . not proof-read . 1.0k wrdz

꒰ arthur morgan x fem ! reader . ꒱

Muddy, wet, icky.

Sweat easily adheres to his already warm skin, rolling down the creases on his forehead and clinging to the ends of his hair. His clothes are attached to his sweat-stained skin, rusty spurrs jingling loudly with the leading sounds of water-filled boots. The sun glares down at him, taunting him even, to make his day even more miserable as it scorches the back of his neck because of the hat; lack thereof- lost from travelling back.

He’ll go find for it soon enough. Just not now.

It’s unlikely for a usual stagecoach robbery to go wrong, he’s done this many times before. Maybe he was starting to feel the effects of ageing. But somehow, things went south a bit too quickly and the man ended up in.. water. With many dead bodies floating around, and cash that wasn’t even worth it at the end.

Just thinking about that whole situation almost makes a vein pop in his head.

A grunt and a low huff escapes his chapped lips when entering the vicinity of the camp. The same water-filled boots squeak each step he took as he storms back to his bed-roll. Everyone knew he was in a bad mood, despite being far away.

Unfortunately for him, someone could not take the hint.

Miss Grimshaw.

“Mister Morgan.” She greets.

“..Miss Grimshaw.” He grunts, wiping the mud off his face just to seem less.. bearable to look at.

The older woman stares down at him for a while, sizing him up with narrowed eyes. “I’ve noticed that you haven’t been putting money in the camps communal funds for a very long time.” She prods at him.

She does not leave any room for him to reply back with just one simple glare. Arthur is smart enough to let out a low sigh and nod at her words mindlessly, not really paying attention. Said-woman sneers at him as she usually does with the others. The sight of the mud coated on his garments caused the wrinkles on her cheek to crease further, furrowing her brows in disdain.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” She flails her arms around, “A grown man covered in crap like this—” Her hand is raised, but with a light tap on her shoulder from behind comes the reluctancy of lowering her hand down to peer whom distracted her.

A meek, soft voice from behind immediately catches his attention, “Miss? Ive finished folding your clothes.”

Her attitude does a huge spin. She’s softer now, bickering to herself before mumbling a ‘thank you, dear.’ You tell her that you’ve set it by her bed-roll, to which she nods and walks away, leaving you with the man whom seemed like he was about to burst from irritation. He swore you were some kind of angel in disguise, how you manage to make her soften up just a bit is beyond his comprehension.

His eyes land on yours. It was almost like a non-verbal way of saying ‘thank you’ from practically losing the beast.

You look up at him with those familiar beady eyes, a small smile etched on your face as you eagerly come closer to him. Almost immediately do you feel the aura he radiated- tired, exhausted, angry.. and most importantly, wants to be comforted.

“Oh, dear..” You pity him akin to a pup getting kicked. The way his muck-covered clothes wiped a bit of grime on yours is something you don’t question, “Are you—

You don’t have time to say your full sentence. He’s grabbed you by the waist and easily pulls you to his tent. A soft squeal escapes your lips at the sudden movements, eyes widening at how quick he was.

And you’re squished to his chest, practically glued to him as he wraps his arms around you. The muck is easily visible on your clean dress, but did you mind? No.

You loosen up in his tight hold, placing your chin on the curve of his neck. Your finger-nails drag up and down on his back, drawing little patterns and shapes. Despite being absolutely humid, Arthur doesn’t let that become an obstacle when being with you.

Your serenade-like voice pulls him back to reality, sleepy eyes staring down at yours.

“Was it that bad?” You unconsciously touch his growing stubble, noting to yourself to cut it later. He leans into the palm of your hand, nodding wordlessly.

“Bad don’t even manage to describe the hell I went through today.” He squishes you tighter like a stuffie. He buries his face in your shoulder, the faint scent of pinewood and cinnamon invading his nose- and gosh was it such an addicting smell. He notices the simple bow you adorned in your hair, and the little bow sewed to your top. He noticed every single thing, despite feeling like he’s about to burst.

Slowly but surely, did the irritation fade away from his stomach as he holds you closely.

“‘M sorry to hear,” You apologised, frowning at the sight of your beloved so worked up. Sometimes, he wondered how the hell you even manage to be apart of this gang, “D’ya wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head with a low grunt, “Nah. Just wan’ be near you.”

The layers-upon-layers of light pink coloured frills covered his lap as you were plopped on him. He mindlessly fiddles with the pretty design, sighing loudly.

“‘M always here to talk to, y’know?” You press a kiss on his cheek.

“I know.” He sighs, cuddling you closely. You really were an angel.

“I don’t deserve you.” He mumbles quietly. You squint your eyes at his own comments, clearly not like it.

“You do.”

A moment of quiet and peace between the two of you, his hand affectionately squeezes yours as a way to comfort himself more than you.

Suddenly, the realisation hits you.

“..Arthur, think you ‘n’ I needa get a bath after this.”

#fem! reader #rdr2 x you #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #afab! reader #arthur morgan x fem! you #arthur morgan x fem! reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 x reader #arthur morgan rdr2

400 notes · View notes

sunkeji · 7 months

Note

Heyyy can i ask for tsukishima and sakasu were them and the reader try those periods simulation things! The reader is all fine and chill while the boys are screaming bloody murder and asking how the reader deals with these on a monthly basis! Separately please! Thank you!!!!

Period simulator ft. Tsukishima & Sakusa

a/n: I'm sorry I got to this late!! I didn't like how I wrote it originally so I scrapped the whole thing and redid it. Hopefully you like this (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Warnings: curse word used in sakusa's part, not proofread, if taken out of context it sounds pretty weird,it feels like i wrote a descriptive essay.

Imagine you make a bet against your boyfriend that if he was a girl, he wouldn't be able to bear the pain of period cramps but he says otherwise. So after that conversation with him, you purchase a period simulator to try during the weekend with him. Sitting on the couch side by side with the period simulator between you two, he steels himself for what's about to come while you are brimming with anticipation.

Tsukishima Kei

He was super confident at first that he would be able to withstand the pain. Not because he undermines the pain of period cramps but because he thinks he has a high pain tolerance. But little does he know...

At the first setting, it was still alright. It was uncomfortable, but still bearable. He brushed off your teasing comments, telling him that it's okay to back out now if it was too painful. He merely rolled his eyes and quipped back, saying he could go to sleep at this setting.

You crank the pain to level 3 and you see Tsukishima jolt. You give him a teasing smile and he quickly says that it was just very sudden and how he didn't expect it and blah blah blah.

You don't even give him a minute to get use to it when a mischievous smile makes its way to your face and you switch it to the highest setting.

Just as quickly as you switched its setting to the highest, you hear a quiet whimper come out of him. The both of you freeze and time seems to have stopped save for the ticking of the clock in the living room.

You hit him with the:

You open your mouth and are about to say something but he quickly interjects in a quiet voice; "no, keep it to yourself, I don't want to hear it" all while avoiding eye contact. You know he's not being mean, just a bit embarrassed or sulky maybe 🤔 so you don't take it to heart.

After that whole fiasco, he made you promise to not utter a single word to anyone about this. And one more time you bring up the fact that the great Tsukishima Kei had actually whimpered, he might actually strangle you for real this time.

Jokes aside, He's left speechless that you actually have to deal with this each time you get your period. He's much nicer to you now when you're on your period, You get less sass from him when on your period and he's more understanding of your situation now.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Can’t believe you actually bought it. Scolds you for wasting your money but since you’ve already bought it, might as well try it. He pretends like this whole thing is a nuisance but he is actually very curious.

He’s kinda nervous because from what he’s seen with you on days where your period cramps are really bad, it looks like you’re suffering from an unknown stomach disease that’s plagued the entire female population in the world and you are just another one of its victims.

Some very tiny part of him wants to be tough and show you that he’s strong but in actuality, he’s in for a rude awakening. He takes level 1 and 2 like a breeze but when you turn it up to level 3, beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead and he’s gripping the armrest of the couch and the veins in his arm are visible.

You glance at him, waiting for another reaction but when nothing else happens, you feel a tad bit disappointed and tell him you’ll put it to the highest setting now. He’s about to protest and reaches out to grab your arm but the intensity of the period simulator takes him by surprise and instead he ends up grabbing your thigh and squeezes it hard.

Now the both of you are screaming profanities and are thrashing around. If he doesn’t let go, you can’t adjust the setting of the period simulator. And if you don’t adjust the settings of the period simulator, he can’t let go because it hurts like a bitch. It’s a whole never ending cycle.

So its a few seconds of the two of you thrashing around before you reach under his shirt and yank the wires and simulator off of him. Then, it’s just the sounds of the two of you heavily breathing and trying to catch your breaths. You turn to him and your eyes go wide when you see he actually has a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he stares at you blankly.

Now you’re left wondering what’s the appropriate course of action. Do you start cackling like a maniac because you never thought he’d start crying then console your boyfriend or do it the other way around? Well you didn’t have to think about it for long because a few seconds later, his head fell ontop of your lap with his arm covering his eyes.

You ask him if he’s feeling okay with a goofy smile plastered on your face from the event that had previously unfolded. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t move his arm now otherwise he’d pinch you for smiling at his misery. He mumbles softly about how he just needs a few minutes to recollect himself and then he’ll be good to go. So in the meantime, you brush your fingers through his hair. After a few minutes or so he asks you with a sigh; “You’ll never let this go will you?”. You laugh and plant a kiss on his head “Nope!”

You remind him how it feels even worse by adding the nausea, dizziness and low blood pressure you may get. So now he takes extra good care of you 🫶 he feeds you lots of red meat, refills your water bottle and even gives you massages anywhere you're feeling sore.

#haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x reader #kei x reader #tsukishima x reader fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #haikyuu x reader fluff #taking care of you on your period #hq x reader

575 notes · View notes

xzhdjsj · 10 days

Text

Iron on my Tongue

Isaac x Reader

Isaac has a bad feeling about your meeting. (Isaac's POV)

Warnings: anxiety, description of blood, death of character

@chilliesillie and @kieran-rhoades created a vivid image in my mind of this scene so here it is written for you my loves<3 I hope I was able to capture this the way you imagined!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It’s a dim afternoon, grey clouds are settled in the sky with a promise of rain later and the wind is chilly. My partner isn't with me right now, maybe if they were I would be enjoying the weather more. I hope they make it back home before the shower.

They're out on their own business, a meeting with a client I introduced them to. As much as I'd like to pride myself in my improvements thus far, I still can't quite let them leave the house to meet someone completely unknown to me. Whatever client I hand over to them are well researched and kept on tab to ensure their meeting environment is a safe one and they’ll be able to get back home to me.

I still have my doubts regardless, but I can't control their every move. They deserve to live. It’s funny because they tell me the same thing, "Isaac you deserve to live, without the worry and torment."

I don't think I'd ever be who I am today without them. The day I met them all those months ago, I'd never believed it if someone told me we'd not only be partners in my field of work, but also lovers. They're the one thing that means the most to me and I absolutely cannot let them get hurt. I trust them, and I know they'll do their best to stay safe but the underlying worry still bothers me.

There's this unusual feeling in my chest, the kind I haven’t experience in a while and worst of all, I'm not sure why it's there. It's bearable, but it's not. A distant but static feeling that hazes over my body and clouds my senses.

I take a sip of my coffee and its burns my tongue. It's hot, way too hot.

"Fuck" I pinch the space between my eyebrows and sigh.

My luck hasn't been the best today, but maybe a shower would wash away whatever this is and I can finally settle down. I push the cup aside and head for the bathroom, peeling the clothes from my body.

I let the water slide off my skin, the only thing on my mind is them. I could chalk this feeling up to just my anxiety, but this is more. This is an additional weight that presses against my chest and squeezes at my heart. An extra burden to carry on my shoulders, one I'm unfamiliar with yet I distantly relate to. Some sort of gut feeling that’s pointed in some unknown direction. I could easily pick up my phone and call them but their voice rings in my head.

"Here's the deal Isaac, no calls from you this time. We have to work something out little by little until you're comfortable with me leaving the house. Instead of you calling me, I'll call you before and after my meeting. Deal?"

I agreed to it of course. I want to be better. For them I want to be better, so each time I think of calling, I turn my phone screen down. I know their meeting started at 3pm and lasts about two hours, so I'm expecting a call at 5.

I step out the shower, tying my robe at the side. The first thing I do is glace at the clock.

4:55

I should be receiving that call soon, and since a shower did absolutely nothing to sooth my nerves, I'm hoping their voice will.

I'm back in the kitchen again, my phone sitting in front of me and I reach for the coffee I had left earlier. I take a sip and now it's too cold. What a day. I dump it down the sink without a second thought, it’s not important right now anyways.

5 o'clock rolls around and I'm impatiently bouncing my knee. There isn’t a single notification from them. 10 minutes. I'll wait 10 minutes and then I'll call. The feeling in my chests grows heavier and heavier and I'm counting down every second. I can't look away from my phone, waiting and hoping to see my screen light up.

5:07

That's basically 5:10 right? If I call now, it wouldn't make a difference. I frantically find their contact and click the small button near it. I take a deep breath, then exhale. It's okay. They'll answer and say their meeting ran a little late and scold me for not waiting a full 10 minutes like I promised. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’m able to fool neither my mind nor my heart.

It rings, and rings, and rings... then disconnects.

There’s no answer. My heart rate picks up and I call again.

Same as before, it rings but no answer.

I attempt to call again, but the phone slips from my grasp. I hadn't noticed it before but my palms are clammy and covered in sweat, cold sweat. I drag them against my robe and quickly snatch the phone off the floor, skipping a call entirely to find their location.

The little icon is not at their meeting location, it’s not at the coffee shop they enjoy visiting, its nowhere close to home. Instead it stays stagnant at a foreign location, a maze-like pathway between a block of buildings.

I’m unsure about almost everything at the moment, but one thing I know for certain is that I need to find them. I leave my house right away. I call until their voicemail is engraved into my skull. I send text after text, but there’s still no response. I check their location again but the only icon that moves is my own as I get closer to my destination.

The rest of the way I need to continue on foot. I have a gun tucked into the waist of my pants and I don’t know what awaits me, or if I’ll even be able to fight it but if I don’t find them I might go completely insane. My stomach turns at the scent, and sight before me. It’s a dirty alleyway, much dirtier than the one I found them in. It makes me sick. The unease in my body casts over me like a giant shadow and it’s starting to make sense. It feels like a rat in my stomach trying to claw its way through my mouth. I hate it. I hate it so much.

I find their phone, their bag and random sheets on paper scattered through path. They’re covered in muddy footprints and soaked in murky water. Something bad happened, that much I knew, but there’s 3, 4, 5 maybe 6 pairs of footprints here. They were outnumbered.

“Name!” I yell. “Where are you?”

I run further and further down but there’s no sign of them. My heart is pounding against my chest and I’m so so scared. I’m looking everywhere but there’s no one here. I grip onto my hair in frustration. Where are they? Did those people take them away? Who were they? There’re hundreds of people who’d want to hurt me but specifically WHO?

“I-Isaac…?” a weak voice calls behind me.

I’m overcome with relief when I hear them, but the state I see them in as I turn around fills me with worry and rage.

They’re holding onto the mouldy walls, sliding down to the ground when they couldn’t support themselves anymore. Their body and clothes are covered in mud and dirt, ripped and bruised. I rush over to them, supporting their weight against my own body.

I’m worried, so worried but I’m relieved they’re still here. I’m relieved they’re still alive.

“God, Pickle” I place a hand against their back, its warm and wet, and they wince in pain at the pressure. “Where are you hurt? Who did this to you?”

“Isaac,” they smile up at me, a hand reaching for my face. “You came. I knew you’d come.”

I hold their hand against my cheek. “Of course, my love. I’ll always find you I promised to protect you always.”

“My knight.” Their voice comes out faint and dull.

“Yours, always yours.” I lean down to kiss them, gently on their lips. It was supposed to be a simple kiss, more as reassurance to my self than them but I taste iron against my tongue, metallic and salty. I pull away abruptly and their body bends forwards choking on coughs as the red liquid spills from their lips. Blood.

It's on the concrete, my pants and my hands? The hand I had against their back… It's covered in blood?

Their jacket wasn’t soaked with water? The warmth I felt wasn’t from their body? It was their blood.

“Isaac.” Their hand is on my face again, pulling me from my thoughts. “You’re *cough* spacing out my darling.”

I don’t bother responding, pulling their jacket off their shoulder. Red, it's all red. Their shirt is soaked through and through with blood and ripped in multiple areas. Stabs, fuck they were stabbed.

“No no no!” I panic. “I need to do something, I need to get you out of here!”

“Isaac please, I can barely move. Its’s *cough* gonna be okay, just please stay here with me.”

“How could I let this happen to you? Why not me instead?” I feel tears roll down my cheek and I’m terrified.

“It’s not your ugh fault Isaac. Please, for my sake, don’t blame yourself.” Their voice continues to weaken. I feel stupid for honouring their request of just staying here, but some part of me knows that there’s nothing I can do now.

“Isaac, I love you”

“Yes, I know my love. I love you too, I love you more than anything.” I feel like a child again, crying my eyes out. I should be the one comforting them, but my voice is filled with fear and my breathing is unsteady.

“Thank you… for all you’ve done for me.” Their voice fades in and out. “Please don’t ever forget me”

Their hand falls from my face but I catch it pressing it back onto my skin. “No, you have to keep your eyes open! Please! Keep your eyes open name! Don’t let go of me!”

“I’m… sorry Isaac. I don’t think I can.” They barely whisper, their eyes struggling to stay open.

“No please, not now! I’ve only just gotten you, you- you can’t leave me yet.” I held them close, sobbing into their hair.

We never made it home before the downpour. I stayed there with them to the very end. I held them in the freezing cold until their breaths slowed. I held them until the warmth drained from their body and they also grew cold. I stayed there until left me for good.

I held my composure, for their sake, wrapping them in my jacket and took them home. I washed their body until they were completely clean before tucking them into bed. One last time, they were by my side. Tomorrow they’d be resting in my garden resting among the flowers, and my mother would finally meet the love of my life. I hope she’d be proud of me, I hope they’d reflect fondly of me.

I hope they’d forgive me for the things I must do in the future.

I hope they’ll shield their eyes and stay blind to the things I will do. Every last breath of mine will be used to avenge them. I will find those who are responsible for this, and I’ll make sure they regret it.

I couldn’t protect as a knight, so I will destroy everything as a shadow.

#oh look its more isaac angst!#zsakuva #sakuverse #asmr #isaac #isaac rhoades

161 notes · View notes

brigidfromthecelts · 2 months

Text

Healing Hands (Law X FemReader)

Summary: You were somewhat of a slave on your previous crew - if you could call them that - and now that you are with the Heart Pirates, you don't really want to bother anyone.

Until you ask your captain to remove that awful Jolly Roger tattoo that covers very intimate places that he now has to touch.

Notes: For MATURE readers only! Implied/referenced abuse - Mild Sexual Content

This is very likely a one time thing. I was just trying to do a character study on Law and it escalated! Also, this is quite raw, compared to my usual works. I did not want to waste too much time on this since it was mostly writen on a whim!

Ps: English is not my first language so I apologise in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

Word count: 3650

Link for A03 if you rather read there.

The first time it happened it was very light. Just a deep pressure behind your eyes, a throbbing of sorts that came and went. It was bearable, for a while, then it became bothersome so you thought that some medicine might help and stopped by the sick bay.

Luckily, the captain was nowhere in sight, and you could go by your business unannounced. You did not want to upset your captain! You had barely exchanged two full sentences with him since you joined the Heart Pirates, and to say that he intimidated you was not enough.

So you took some headache pills from the shelf and went on your way.

Only two days had passed when it happened the second time and this time the pain was sharper and it came with nausea and a sensitivity to bright light and loud noises. Grunting you made your way to the sick bay again and popped an extra pill, just to be sure it would pass. Thank God the captain was away again.

The third time happened the morning after and it felt like dying, surely. Your skull was being split into two by an invisible axe and you could barely get out of bed. You went into the bathroom to empty your stomach on the toilet but it was already empty so you were dry heaving for about ten minutes, large tears staining your puffed up red cheeks.

And the pain did not relent.

You knew why this was happening, really. You had been deprived of using your devil fruit powers for such a long time by those cursed sea prism cuffs that, now that you were free to use them, your body was resenting the newfound freedom.

Maybe this time you should go to your captain. This could be beyond your expertise.

You got up on wobbly steps and exited your room. The Polar Tang was bustling with activity, with everyone already on their posts and working hard. Everyone but you. As you were approaching Law’s quarters, you heard him yell and berate someone over - it seemed, since there was no response - the Den Den Mushi. He seemed pretty mad.

So you backed away.

You could do this on your own. All these angry words were making your skin crawl and you could feel your jaw clenching which, in turn, just made your head hurt more and more. You could not help this natural reaction that your body had when presented with stressful situations.

The captain of your former crew -... Wait, could you even call them crew if all they did was kidnap you, place cuffs on you, force you to being with them and abuse you every day? You shouldn't, really. But it was ingrained deep into you that he was your owner and captain . And you should obey him. Anyway, he always yelled. So much yelling.

So your natural reaction to it was to escape. Which you did, even if your head was throbbing and you could barely see where you were going.

You bumped into something - someone - soft and almost fell down on your butt. Hastily apologising to Bepo, who helped steady you, since you could barely stand on your own legs, you looked into his eyes and implored.

“Don't tell the captain, Bepo, please!"

And then you ran away again, seeking refuge in the med bay and thinking about downing the entire bottle of headache pills, wondering how many could the human body sustain before shutting down.

Taking deep calming breaths, you sat on the infirmary bed. Just to get it together since the world was spinning around you and you did not know what to do to stop it.

There was your friend, nausea, making an appearance as well.

So you groaned and laid back. Just a minute. Just until everything stopped hurting.

Then it hit you. You could just use a bit of your powers. Maybe it would help. Oh, for sure it would help. Why didn't you think of it earlier?

Raising your right hand in the air and lowering your index finger made all the sounds stop. You sighed. The outer world had stopped existing and it was bliss for a second.

Then you lowered your ring finger because everything was still so very bright, even without your eyes open, so taking away your sight would make that stop hurting. Surely.

And it did. For a moment.

Next was the smell because the nausea was attacking you again and the smell of alcohol in this room was overwhelming. So you lowered your middle finger and the nausea subsided a bit.

You thanked whatever deity had helped you find the right fruit, because being able to just shut down your senses was definitely a bliss.

But the incessant throbbing was still there. Maybe you should turn off your sense of touch as well. Would it help?

You were about to lower your pinky when you felt a very strong hand enveloping your own and you gasped, though no sound reached your ears. Opening your eyes, you were momentarily confused because you couldn't see anything, until your pained and tired brain clicked and you let go of the hold you had in your senses by relaxing your hand.

And all at once, sound, smell and vision came to you and you were overwhelmed by your captain. His staring was cool and hard and he was berating you with angry words. He smelled of soap and antiseptic and it was all too much. You just wanted to retreat again.

Sitting up and raising your hand again, getting ready to use your powers, once more, you made yourself appear smaller, your legs against your chest, your free arm enveloping your knees, but Law’s grip was firm on your hand and he was not letting you use your powers.

“What do you think you're doing? How long has this been going on? Why didn't you come talk to me? I'm the doctor of this ship! Not just your captain.”

You felt tears sting in the back of your eyes but tears just made your last captain angrier so you bit them back, swallowing a sob. Your hand twitched. You wanted to retreat into yourself so badly.

“Stop trying to use your powers. If you're in pain, I'll help. You don't have to do everything alone.”

Now this time a sob really escaped your lips. No one had cared about you or about helping you for so long. You didn't know what it felt like to get someone's help.

“What hurts? You need to talk to me.”

He wasn't yelling anymore since your hand stopped twitching, but his gaze was so cold and intense .

“Head.” Your voice was weak and fragile. And so, so broken.

He took out a flashlight from the desk’s drawer and examined your irises. Then he told you to open your mouth and you groaned at the effort.

“Dizziness?” You nodded softly. “Nausea?” You nodded once more and your hand grasped the sheets because the world was spinning again. “When was the last time you ate?” You shrug. Honestly you have no idea. “Drink?”

“I can't keep anything in my stomach.” It hurt just to talk.

“Lay back. I'll start an IV. You're dehydrated."

You obeyed and closed your eyes. He wasn't looking at your face when a fat tear rolled down your cheek. It felt nice to be taken care of, for once.

You felt a sting when the needle punctured your skin but barely flinched. “Next time, come to me. I don't bite.”

You nodded stiffly but realised that he needed an explanation. “My last captain didn't like to be disturbed.”

You barely whispered.

“Well, your last captain was a dick and I thought that we had already established that.”

He knew some of the story. You didn't share everything with your new crew. They found you in chains, on one of your former captains punishments and put two and two together with the little information you had provided. They knew you were some sort of slave. You just didn't share much more than that.

The medication he had put in the IV was helping because the pain was subsiding and you sighed.

“If there's a next time, I'll be sure to find you.” You said and he nodded.

There was a beat of silence and he shifted on his chair. He was probably going to leave because he had other businesses to attend to other than keep you company, but, suddenly, you needed him there with you, so you opened your mouth and immediately regretted bringing up the subject.

“Can you erase tattoos?”

His dark eyes bore into yours and you gulped while looking elsewhere.

“Yes, but I thought that they hadn't marked you.” He looked at your bare arms and legs - since you still had your pyjamas on.

“They did. You just can't usually see it…” You felt your cheeks turn beet red. You should not have mentioned this. “Forget it, it's fine. It doesn't bother me that much.” You could feel your eyes stinging again.

“Clearly it does.” He leaned back on the chair and crossed his arms. “Do you want to show me?”

Not really. You didn't even know why you brought it up. Other than the fact that everytime you undressed or took a shower you wanted to use a knife and cut that damn tattoo off of you.

“It's big.”

That was an understatement. It was huge.

“Show me.” Well that was an order. And you were used to those. So you sighed deeply, trying to gather some courage.

He was a doctor, he was a handsome man. He had definitely seen boobs before. There was nothing to fear.

Slowly you lifted your pyjama's shirt, making sure you kept your nipples covered with your hands - trying to maintain some dignity, at least - while your eyes looked at anything other than his face.

Law got up and you heard a low grunt erupting from deep in his throat. “That dick did this to you?”

You nodded and suddenly your throat felt very tight. “He did.” You could feel Law’s eyes roaming around your body. The tattoo of the previous crew Jolly Roger was carved in the middle of your sternum but, since the Jolly Roger was of an octopus, it's tentacles were everywhere. Two of them enveloped your breasts in a very sexualized manner, there were two that escaped to the back, two just roamed around your stomach and the other two disappeared beneath the hem of your shorts.

And those were the ones Law was staring at, his eyes dark and his lips a thin line. You gulped, self conscious of your body and covered up.

“It's no big deal. It's been there for the last five years anyway…” And you could still feel the way your last captain touched you to mark your skin. Your turned your face away from Law, stifling a very small sob. You hated feeling this weak and pathetic. But there was nothing that you could do about it.

After five years of constant abuse, it was instinctive.

“I can do it whenever you want.” His voice betrayed nothing. But his eyes were as cold as death.

“Would right now be okay?” Had that sounded desperate? Because you were pretty sure you could not take another bath scrubbing yourself raw until everything turned red.

He nodded. “Just going to let Bepo know that I'll be busy. We should let the IV finish as well, so you have strength.”

And he left you without another word, but you could see him clenching his fists and could feel his aura and he was beyond angry.

You closed your eyes and tried to rest a bit. The pain in your head had finally subsided.

-*-

You woke up to a burning sensation in your stomach and hissed through your teeth while lifting up your head.

“I'm sorry, does it hurt? I anaesthetised you, so it shouldn't be too bad.” You shook your head. You'd known worse pain than this. “You were sound asleep so I started on your back then proceed to the stomach area. It's done.”

You looked down and he was right. A big part of it was gone. Most of the tentacles and the Jolly Roger were gone. You were really out of it for not having felt anything.

“For the rest of the tentacles you need to… Remove your clothes.” Was that a hint of a blush on his face? Because yours was burning up.

You nodded slowly. “Now?” He also nodded so you took a deep breath and took off your shirt. It was just boobs. And nipples. The last crew had seen them on a daily basis anyway and you were pretty sure that Law was just going to look at them in a medical way, not oggle at them and try to touch them like the other pirates did.

Somehow, very secretly, you were glad that the last captain only wanted you to himself. You would not have survived long by being abused by everyone in the crew.

Yep, that was definitely a blush on his cheeks. You gulped and tried to look anywhere but his face, but it was hard. He was so… intriguing…

Law hissed trough his teeth and flexed his fingers. “I have to touch you. It's the way this works. Can I?” You nodded but he closed his eyes firmly. “I know what you've been trough - at least what you do share, clearly not enough - so I need verbal consent this time, okay? Can I touch your breasts?”

Your stomach summersaulted at this affirmation and you were pretty sure that your heart had skipped a beat. Thankfully you weren't on any monitor or that would've been flagrant. “Yes, you can touch me.”

And as soon as his long fingers started to trace the tattoo on your skin, you felt like molten lava. He was just using his fingertips and his touch was so light, yet it was igniting a fire in your belly that you didn't know was there.

You were pretty sure that your mouth hung open since the minute he started to touch you but you couldn't care less. This feeling was overwhelming . You gulped and glanced at his face. His brows were scrunched together and his jaw was clenched tight. You could see little prespiration beads forming in his forehead. Was he using that much of his power? Or was it just the concentration?

His fingertips grazed your erect nipple and you bit your lower lip to stifle a moan. What was wrong with you? He was a doctor! He was doing a procedure! And you were getting turned on like crazy!

You closed your eyes tight and took a deep shaky breath. Vaguely a lone thought passed through your mind. You had never been touched like this. In such a gentle way. No touch had ever ignited this… desire within you.

You could feel your heart beating somewhere between your legs and you knew that that was no place for it to be beating so you tried to think of something else.

But you couldn't think of anything else.

Because this man was fire and desire and he was literally burning himself into your skin. Your hands clasped the sheets tight and you fought very hard not to arch your back and lean into his touch.

“Does it hurt?” His voice was somewhat affected as well. He seemed… drunk. But certainly not on booze.

“No!” You should've just kept your mouth shut tight because your no came out accompanied with an earth shattering moan that you were trying to contain since he started to touch you. He gasped and removed his hands. You turned tomato red and covered your mouth with your own hand. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean…”

Didn't mean what, genius? To be so turned on by your touch? To give in to pleasure? To want to have your lips on my nipples and your cock inside me? Shit. You should get a grip.

His hands were on the bed and he hung his head down, taking a deep breath. Was this affecting him too?

“Maybe you should use your powers.” His voice was so low that you weren't sure he had spoke at all. “Remove your sense of touch so I can do this.” The silence was stifling. “And remove mine, as well…”

When you didn't answer he lifted his head and you could see his eyes. He seemed lost, like he had never felt quite like this before. So you felt bold.

“I want to feel you.” You forced yourself to stare at him while you said those words and you couldn't care less if your head was fuming with embarassment. “Do you want to feel me…?”

He opened his mouth to answer but closed it immediately, taking a deep breath instead. “I'm your captain.”

“So?"

“Your experience with previous captains was terrible. I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

Your hand traveled all the way up to his and your touch was feather light. “You're not making me feel uncomfortable. You're helping me heal.”

And that was the truth, because his touch was healing emotional scars as much as the physical ones and he should know that.

His eyes burned through yours and he seemed to be waging war inside of himself.

A small nod.

You could count that as a win. So you settled back again. Inhaling deeply and trying to control your emotions. You could use your powers as he had suggested. But you wanted to feel him .

“I need you to… Lower your shorts… Please.”

Your head snapped up and you stared at your boobs. He was done already with the tentacles of the breasts? Okay, so this was fast. You could get trough this.

Gulping, your hands found the hem of your shorts and you pulled them down, along with your panties. You heard Law’s shaky exhale while he looked at you. You knew the two tentacles trailed over the mound of your pussy and wrapped themselves around your thighs. So you lifted your knees and opened your legs slightly before he had to ask you to.

It took a while before he touched you and you were starting to feel self conscious. “Is… Is everything alright?”

He grunted and held his index finger up, like asking you to wait, while his eyes remained closed. For an instant you thought that he was reviewing the process in his head, but then your eyes traveled down his pants - unintentionally - and you could see the outline of his hardened cock tight against his pants.

So he was as aroused as you were.

Blushing, you were just about to give some mercy to this man and to use your powers when he opened his eyes and, with a very determined look, started to touch you.

And by everything that was sacred, there were so many nerves down there, and it was like they were all tingling, right now.

You instantly clenched your jaw and grasped the sheets. His touch was harsher now, needier it seemed. He was using both hands - maybe trying to finish this faster? - and the sensations were intensifying by the second.

A burning sensation all around, a tightness in your belly and an ache - like something was missing - in your core. His fingers were so deft and long and hot and you needed them inside you so desperately .

You bit your lip and couldn't help but arch your back a little when his finger almost touched your clit. He grunted and hissed through his teeth but he did not stop.

Aparently, two hands truly worked faster because he moved his position and was now staring at your tighs - and probably at your dripping wet self.

“You're going to kill me.” He muttered between his teeth but before you could reply, he had one hand on each of your tighs and his touch was now rough but not at all unkind and you moaned so hard your throat hurt.

“Fuck, Law. Maybe take a break. I-... I'm…” Everything was overwhelming and his touch was igniting you and you just knew that you were going to fold and come even without his fingers inside of you, if he didn't remove his fucking hot hands from you.

“I'm almost done.” His grunt was almost animal like and this time - maybe on purpose or maybe because he was being a bit sloppy with his work - his thumb did brush your clit.

“Law!” You screamed and squirmed and your legs clenched while you rode out your waves of pleasure.

God, nothing ever had felt quite like this. And this was the result of this man's blessed hands. You noticed that he was panting as well. A very deep blush was covering his cheeks, as were yours.

“I'm sorry…” You started, a bit ashamed now.

He inhaled and regained a bit of composure. “Don't ever say you're sorry about your pleasure. You and I both know you've suffered enough.”

You nodded while a lone tear traveled across your cheek.

“Your tattoo is gone now. Hopefully I was able to replace the awful memories associated with it.”

Your mirthful laugh made him lift his eyes to meet yours and he looked surprised. You realised that it was because this was the first time that you had actually laughed since boarding the Polar Tang. “Yes, you were.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, his cool demeanour almost back in place. You nodded softly and he hooked another fluid bag to your IV and told you to rest for a while.

His hand lingered on your arm, you noted.

And as you closed your eyes you couldn't help but think that you were alright indeed.

Albeit, perhaps a bit in love with Trafalgar Law.

#law x reader #trafalgar d law #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #heart pirates

261 notes · View notes

frankenkyle19 · 4 months

Text

Glitter On The Floor After The Party

description/warnings: Peter x reader at a New Year’s Eve party, Peter admits that he’s never had a New Year’s kiss and against better judgement, reader decides to give him one. Smut, unprotected sex, oral (male and fem receiving), teasing, just a bunch of tenderness and it’s so cute okay thanks bye

Based off of the amazing request I got from our lord and savior @silverzoomies I hope you enjoy it and I hope it lives up to your expectations!!

word count: 4.6k

Loving you,

Isn’t the right thing to do

How Can I

Ever change things that I feel?

If I could

Baby, I’d give you my world

The soft background music of Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” played amongst the chatter and laughs of conversation across the room. You stood leaning against the wall, sipping on a solo cup of lemonade as you did one of your favorite things. People watching.

You didn’t like to be in the middle of a conversation, but listening to it from the outside was something you did enjoy. You didn’t try to snoop, if someone was having a conversation they obviously intended to keep hush hush, you moved on to listen to a louder, carefree conversation instead.

What day was it again? Why were you at a party? Oh right, it was New Year’s eve and Charles had decided to host a party at the school for the mutants and others who resided there. As a way to celebrate the progress that had been made in the last year and to hope for a good year to come.

You never really felt like you fit in with the other mutants. Sure you had a power, and if that’s what people thought deemed you a mutant, then yes, you were one. You wouldn’t even consider it a power, it was more of a curse. A turn off to just about all men who found out about it one way or the other, despite it not affecting them in any way. They just saw you as different and decided you weren’t worth the time of day. Too much work. Whatever.

Speaking of time, that had everything to do with your power. You were able to slow down time, practically freeze something in the moment.Unlike a certain silver speedster who was able to move at the speed of light, you were only able to freeze a moment for a certain amount of time, and it took a lot of focus. It was a dumb power, you always thought so, and you weren’t sure it would ever even be useful to the x-men, despite protests from Charles that everyone is important in their own way. Sounded like a load of bull shit.

Figures that one of your only friends was the silver haired speedster himself. Your powers were similar but yet so different, and sometimes it led to arguments between the two of you. You always managed to get over it though.

Peter Maximoff was one of the first friends you’d made when you joined. Around your age, a cocky super speedy mutant definitely caught your eye.

The two of you had been friends for a few months now and had gotten closer quicker than you imagined. Peter and you staying up late to have secret movie marathons, with him always insisting you rewatch Star Wars despite your strong dislike for rewatching movies when you could watch new ones. You did it anyway, being with Peter suddenly made those movies bearable, as if he possessed some other kind of power than his super speed. The power to make any situation a little more bearable.

You hadn’t seen Peter yet tonight, strangely, and wondered if maybe he wouldn’t be attending. He had no reason not to but as you wracked your brain for an answer, you couldn’t come up with one. Odd. Maybe he was with his family? His mother and little sister? Perhaps he enjoyed spending time with them more. Psssh of course he did, that was his family that he loved, so why suddenly did you feel so jealous.

Finishing the last of your lemonade you made your way back over to the drinks table to pour yourself something stronger. Maybe a little rum and coke would solve all your problems. Hell, maybe you’d even be able to chill out enough to find someone to hook up with. Lord knows you needed it. You’d been unusually uptight lately and the only thing you could think of was the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a milenia.

It wasn’t like you to do the dirty with some person who you didn’t even know, but if the night led up to that, you’d have no qualms as long as said person knew where the clit was and how to make you feel good. Was that too much to ask for?

You were knocked out of your thoughts when a harsh breeze whipped by you, followed by the slight color of silver.

Peter… So he was here.

A few seconds later and your cup was snatched from your hands and in the hands of someone else who sipped from it. When he put the cup down you saw his familiar deep brown eyes and silver hair. You would be annoyed at the fact that he’d stolen your drink if it wasn’t for the fact that you were actually quite happy he’d finally showed up.

For being a speedster, he sure was late to a lot of things. Odd, wasn’t it?

“Miss me?” He asked, snatching a cookie from the table and biting into it, a few crumbs cascading down onto his Pink Floyd shirt. He obviously didn’t care as he took another bite and the same thing happened. His silver eyebrows were raised, waiting on an answer from you.

What had he asked again? Oh right, if you missed him…

“I thought you weren’t coming,” You said, avoiding his question. Had you missed him? You weren’t really sure the answer to his question. It was something you’d have to ponder on for a while.

“Where else would I be on New Year’s Eve?” He asked, finishing off his cookie and scanning the table no doubt for what he’d eat next.

“I don’t know, maybe your mom’s place?” You shrugged. To be honest you didn’t know, you were just guessing.

“Nope, her and my lil’ sis are at a friend's house celebrating I think. I wasn’t invited. No one wants a freak at their new years party, right?” He chuckled, but you knew inside he didn’t find it very funny.

“Maybe they didn’t want you stealing anything-” You teased, trying to lighten the mood, and it seemed to work. Peter laughed once more, real this time as he shook his head.

“Yeah that’s probably it, never thought of that. Yer a genious” He said, and you noticed another cookie in his hand, already half eaten.

You took this chance to get a good look at the man in front of you. The silver haired mutant of which you harbored a very secret obsession. How could you not? Anyone who didn’t was either lying or blind. He was perfect in so many ways. From the way his silver hair sometimes fell into his face, to the way his brown eyes sparkled whenever he saw you.

As much as you’d love for something to happen between the two of you, the risk was just too high. You couldn’t in good intention do anything and risk your friendship with the speedster. It was too risky.

Still, sometimes the way he looked at you had you wondering how he felt. Where his feelings lay. Was there something more or were you reading too far into it all? Probably the latter…

You glanced at the clock ticking on the wall. Thirty minutes till midnight. Thirty minutes till the new year. It felt so close but seemed to be an eternity away. You wondered what this new year would bring you. What you’d accomplish within the x-men. Maybe you’d find a more useful way to use your powers. One could only hope.

While you were zoned out on the clock Peter had stuffed multiple things into his mouth and now when you turned back to him you saw the corners of his lips were covered in white cream. Jesus…

You raised a brow, shaking your head as you brought your thumb up to wipe the corners of his mouth before wiping said thumb on the sleeve of his silver jacket, much to his dismay.

Peter let out a quiet chuckle and the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. It felt as if the rest of the world had slowed around the two of you but you knew for certain you weren’t using your powers right now. It was just the effect Peter had on you. Damn it was strong.

Peter met your eyes before looking away and if you weren’t so distracted by the way his hair fell in perfect waves over his forehead, you’d have seen the way his cheeks darkened and the way he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, clearing his throat.

The odd wave of feeling faded between the two of you and it went back to normal. You chatted and laughed over drinks until the both of you were tipsy, you much more so than Peter considering his metabolism, and by then it was only two minutes until midnight.

The rest of the party had party poppers and noise makers in their hands, read for the clock to turn to 12:00, but you and Peter were still talking to each other, too caught up in conversation to get with the flow of things.

“You know, I’ve never had a New Year's kiss.” Peter blurted out, setting his solo cup down to look at you. His expression was soft and you could see the way his body was burning through the alcohol he’d drank as if it was nothing.

What an odd thing to tell your friend two minutes before midnight. I mean, he wasn’t insinuating anything, surely? He was known to over share many things, including the women he’d had sex with, which keep in mind had not been many these days, and the pornos he’d rented that week. That’s just the kind of dude he was. Absolutely no shame in his game.

You let out a surprised chuckle. Quicksilver had never had a New Year’s kiss? Such an odd thing for him to have not experienced.

“That’s a shame.” Was all you said, setting down your own cup, the drink in it now long gone and deep in your system.

Peter seemed surprised by your response, as if he was expecting you to reassure him and tell him you hadn’t had a New Year’s kiss either, but that hadn’t been the case.

He opened his mouth to speak once more when people began to cheer around you. 11:59. 60 seconds…

Peter rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he chuckled, wishing he hadn’t just told you about his lack of New Year’s Eve smooching.

30 seconds. The pull to Peter was so much stronger now, as if the universe was pushing you together like opposite sides of a magnet.

25 seconds.

Why did you feel this way? Jesus Christ what was wrong with you? Surely you wouldn’t…

15….

The faint sound of Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here could be heard and you were surprised that Peter hadn’t pointed it out yet, considering he was at the moment wearing a Pink Floyd shirt..

How I wish,

How I wish you were here

We’re just two lost souls

Swimming in a fishbowl

Year after year…

10…

No you couldn’t

9…

Get it together!

8…

He’s just your friend! Nothing more!

7…

But god the way he looked at you..

6…

No, Don’t give in. Don’t ruin what you already have

5…

Fuck. Screw it. Screw it all.

With a heavy breath you grabbed Peter by the front of his jacket and pulled him down into a kiss. He hadn’t expected it and to be fair neither had you. Time did seem to slow around the two of you now as you felt a surge of electricity crackle through the air between you as Peter finally knocked himself out of his dazed confusion and kissed you back.

4…

His lips were so soft

3..

You could find yourself getting used to this.

2..

He pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as you wrapped your own around his neck

1..

A deep breath, never breaking the kiss and there it was.. Peter’s New Year’s kiss. Finally, he had what he wanted, and so did you.

Once it hit midnight the two of you didn’t break away. You pulled at each other, urging the other to come closer. You wanted to crawl into each other's skin, get as close as possible. You didn’t care who saw, who judged. The only thing that mattered in that moment between you two was the other.

You felt Peter’s Hardness against your inner thigh as you leaned against him, coaxing a moan from his puffy lips as he glanced down at you, swallowing hard. That was all the warning you got before he sped the two of you off, time slowing back down once you were both safely in his room at the school. It was just as oddly decorated as his basement-room at his moms house. Obscure posters and gaming machines like Pinball and pac-man.

Peter attacked your neck with his lips, urging you towards his unmade bed before pushing you down onto it. Rushed and messily he tore off his jacket and shirt, tossing it to the floor. He paused, glancing down at you beneath him.

“I- is this okay?” He asked, his hands creeping up under your shirt and tickling your rib cage with his long, slender fingers.

“More than okay,” you laughed out. Yea, it was way more than okay. What wasn’t okay was the fact that he stopped. That just wouldn’t do.

You glanced down at the ever growing bulge in the front of his too-tight jeans before your hand cupped him gently, causing him to jut into the feeling.

“Shit- really? We’re really doing this?” He asked, grinding his lower half into your hand for more friction.

You used your free hand to pull him down into another kiss full of teeth and tongue, gently massaging his length through his clothing, causing small whimpers and whines to fall from his parted lips, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Fuck yeah we’re really doing this, here- just-“ you urged him off of you until the two of you had switched positions, Peter laying against the bed, you leaning over him.

“Please-“ He mewled, looking up at you with his desperate dark brown eyes, begging for the slightest touch.

Hearing him beg was music to your ears and as much as you wanted to get him to beg more, you were also impatient and wanted to tear his clothes from his body. You’d waited too long for this, you were not going to waste a second.

You palmed him over his clothing one more before undoing the zipper and button on his jeans, trying to get them down his legs.

“Peter- a little help?” You asked, brow raised as you glanced at him.

Peter, who had previously been in his own little world refocused on you, jumping at the sound of his name coming from your lips. It took him a moment to register what you were asking from him and then, the clumsy idiot he was, in a desperate attempt to kick off his pants, he ended up kicking you off the bed.

Landing with a thump you gasped, not expecting it and not being able to do anything to prevent it. You peeked up over the edge of the bed to find a mortified Peter who was frozen in place with his pants halfway off his legs as he looked at you.

“Shit- are you okay? I’m so sorry oh my god-“ He helped you back on the bed and despite your giggles and light reassurance he felt bad.

“Let me make it up to you?” His tone dropped at this and you knew he had an idea. A devilish idea. He picked you up like you were nothing and laid you back on the bed, settling between your legs as he carefully hiked up your shirt until it had revealed your bra, and inside of said bra, your bomb ass titties.

Peter would never lie, and your boobs were absolutely smoking. He was a tits expert after all, from watching hours of pornos, he’d still never seen one’s as pretty as yours, and he had an idea that it was probably because they were yours, and he was now beginning to realize his true feelings for you were much more than just ‘friends’

He practically ripped off your pants, tossing them onto the ground next to his own clothes before his hands traced your thighs.

Your panties were soaked and you were sure there was a wet spot on them that Peter would soon see. It was embarrassing how fast he had gotten you so worked up.

And just like you expected, Peter’s eyes locked onto your clothed cunt, nearly drooling as his thumb brushed over the wet spot in your panties.

The touch felt electric and so, so damn good which was ridiculous because he’d barely touched you at all.

He gently rubbed his thumb across your clothed clit, loving the way that you reacted to his touch.

“Poor thing, need quickie to make you feel good?” He chuckled devilishly and you so badly wanted to kick him. Now was not the time to tease.

“Peter! Please!” You huffed, wriggling around underneath him as he slowly and teasingly pulled your panties down your legs, throwing them over his shoulder. He parted your thighs further to give him better access to your core.

His pupils seemed to dilate as he zoned in on your throbbing cunt and with a shaky breath he leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue.

Your hands found their way to his hair as you tugged gently on the silver strands, urging him closer.

Peter got the hint and buried his face further into your pussy, moaning at your taste and wetness. All for him.

It had always been all for him.

His pink tongue jabbed at your clit several times before his lips gently wrapped around the nub, sucking gently, but enough that you could feel it. Hell could you feel it.

Your head fell back into the pillows, unable to keep it up anymore as your legs quivered around Peter’s head. The sight was heavenly. A head of silver hair lapping at your cunt, dark brown eyes glancing up at you as he flicked his tongue inside of you before pulling out to give attention to your clit.

You were surprised by how well he actually ate you out. Most men you’d been with were messy and not in a good way, totally missing any points of pleasure down there, but Peter. God was he good at it.

He continued his actions, speeding up every now and then until your whines became more desperate and your hips bucked up against his face. Somehow, without ever being together intimately, Peter just knew your tell tale signs that you were close. Maybe the porn had paid off.

“Peter!” You squealed as he pulled away for what felt like the fifteenth time. Your body was shaking with pleasure and a layer of sweat covered your skin, making you glisten.

“What baby girl? What’s wrong? Doesn’t it feel so nice?” He asked, pressing kisses to your inner thigh as he teased you, his palms rubbing over your knees as he peeked up at you through his eyelashes.

You totally wanted to kick him right now. He was being such an ass.

“Peter! Please- fuck I was so close! This isn’t fucking funny anymore!” You groaned, urging his head back down to your pussy and finally he followed your lead.

He let you guide him back to your core and he began to lap away at it once more, closing his eyes as he moaned against you. His tongue moved inhumanly fast and it was quite literally the best thing you’d ever felt. Better than any store bought vibrator that was available.

“Fuck! Oh s-shit Peter- feels so good please don’t stop- please please don’t stop this time baby please-“ you begged, holding him by his hair, tugging hard on it as he groaned, open mouthed against you.

With a few more flicks of his tongue and sucks against you, you were cumming, your release coating Peter’s lips and chin as he did his best to clean you up, moaning against you.

Eventually you had to pull him away because he was so lost in your taste. Carefully you pulled him up by his silver locks, seeing the fucked out, happy expression on his face.

“So fucking good-“ he wiped his mouth on his arm before sitting up a bit, coming to himself as he finally got enough oxygen.

Catching your breath, you pulled your shirt and bra fully off, finally being fully naked before you pulled Peter into another kiss, getting on top of him.

He looked up at you with the softest brown puppy dog eyes he could muster, chest heaving as he let a quiet whine slip past his lips.

“Definitely getting much more than a New Year's kiss.” You laughed, hooking your thumbs in the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down while keeping eye contact with him the whole time.

“Fuckkk- please touch me- I’m literally throbbing baby you’ve got no idea how much I need you-“

“I think I have some idea,” you gently wrapped your hand around his red leaky cock once his boxers were off, and the sound that Peter made was something straight out of a porno.

“Shhh, Peter you’re really loud-“ you shook your head as you thumbed over the tip of him, watching as your thumb spread the opaque fluid across his pretty pink head.

“Really really want a new years kiss somewhere else-“ Peter panted, despite how desperate he was he was still cracking jokes. Of course. You wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but you had a better idea.

Rolling your eyes, you leaned down, face to face with his throbbing dick as you pressed a soft feather light kiss to the tip, watching the way Peter’s breath hitched the second you did.

You had him wrapped around your finger, and it was everything you ever wanted and more. Finally, after all this time. You had him. He was yours.

“Oh f-fuck I’m gonna cum- I’m gonna cum-“

“Peter I’ve barely touched you-“ your brows furrowed at his admission, honestly surprised. You had gotten him that worked up from barely touching him? To be fair he had done quite the same thing to you previously.

“Don’t- wanna cum yet- wanna fuck you please?” He asked, batting his eyes in a much too innocent way for how sinful the situation was.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him to fuck you. As much as you wanted to explore his body, there would be time for that later. You too had all the time in the world now.

He pulled you down with him onto the bed as he tried to manhandle you down onto your back and before you knew it he was over top of you, leaning in between your legs, nudging your core with the tip of his cock.

“Can I?” He asked, looking up at you, his hair a disheveled mess of silver on top of his head.

“No condom?” You asked, brushing your thumb across his cheek as he shyly nodded, not meeting your eye, his next words surprising you.

“I-if that’s okay- I saw you were on birth control I was snooping around your room the other da-“

“Wait, pause right there, you were snooping around my room? Peter!” You shoved at his shoulder, an annoyed look settled on your face “what’s wrong with you? Creep!”

Peter put his hands up in surrender as he blushed hard, becoming shy now at his confession.

“I’m sorry, I was just curious! You know me! I'm a snoop!”

“Peter I cannot believe you right now but- dammit, yes. Yes just fuck me already please or im going to explode.”

Peter chuckled, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he slowly slipped inside of you, your slick mixed with his saliva from Peter’s previous actions with his tongue making him glide inside easily.

The both of you gasped in unison at the feeling of being so close together in such an intimate setting. It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. There was almost no pain, despite how deeply he was stretching you out. It was like the two of you were meant for each other.

You clutched onto Peters shoulders as he gave a few experimental thrusts into you, shaky breaths mingling together in the air between your bodies.

Peter breathed out your name through a moan and you were sure it was the most magical sound you had ever heard and would ever hear.

“Fuck- to be fair I had no idea this was how the night was going to turn out-“ Peter cursed, sweat forming on his brow, not from exhaustion but from pleasure and the restraint it took to hold himself back from fucking you so hard the bed broke.

You laughed lightly, moaning as he hit a spot even deeper inside of you before pulling back out and repeating his actions.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Perfect way to start the New Year in my opinion.” You grinned before your smile was replaced with a gasp as Peter began to speed up his thrusts.

You didn’t fail to miss the way that his body vibrated with each thrust, fucking into you with purpose as he planted kisses and love bites all across your neck and shoulders before sucking one of your breasts into his mouth.

He hummed around the hardened bud before letting go of it with a pop.

“I just gotta say baby- these titties- you’ve been hiding them from me for tooooo long. They are bangin!” You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his choice of words.

“F-fuck-“ he cursed again, his thrusts becoming erratic as he fucked into you with a kind of desperation you’d never seen from him before.

You didn’t even need him to tell you, you just nodded in understanding, biting your bottom lip between your teeth.

The two of you were close and your bodies were racing to the finish, chasing your euphoric highs.

“I-I-I’m-“ he choked out, unable to form the words.

“Shh, shh I know Peter, I know, me too.” You reassured him.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, locking him in place and making him go farther inside of you, surely bruising your cervix.

Peter froze against you, humping against you twice more before stilling, filling you up with his warm seed.

The feeling finally threw you over the edge, your body seizing against his, arching up against him before collapsing limply back against the sheets.

The two of you caught your breath before Peter pulled out and laid next to you, tracing your stomach with his finger.

“Holy shit- that- Jesus that was- wow-“ Peter couldn’t find the words as he stared at you in disbelief.

You didn’t really have the words either so you just looked up at him and said,

“Happy New Year’s Peter.”

And he simply responded with

“Happy New Years.”

Maybe this new year wouldn’t be so bad after all.

#evan peters #evan peters icons #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff smut #peter maximoff fanfiction #xmen quicksilver #xmen #new year #evan peters characters #evan peters smut #evan peters fanfic

244 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 3 months

Note

Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

193 notes · View notes

becca-e-barnes · 1 year

Note

Beccaaa, I'm missing darkbestfriend!bucky so much, could you spoil me, please?

Okay, hear me out. I've had SUCH a fantasy recently about those aphrodisiac supplements and how much fun they could be. I've never tried them but I've been looking into them this week and it's on my list of things to do this year 👀

I'm soooo convinced these would be right up darkbestfriend!bucky's street and he'd turn it into a bit of a game.

"Are you sure you want to try these? I don't know if you can handle them. They're pretty intense." He's watching you with a hint of a smirk on his lips, pretty confident he knows your answer before you even say it. "You know what the rules are. We take one each and you have to sit there like a good girl. You can't touch me and I can't touch you. Whoever gives in first loses."

This isn't a game you think you'll be awfully good at but you're happy to lose this one.

"Got it. Give me one." You haven't always been known for your patience but being direct pays off this time. You take a capsule each, chasing it with some water.

The first little while is easy enough. You go back to reading your book and Bucky refocuses his attention on the show he was watching.

It builds slowly. You notice the heat first, originating at the base of your spine, fizzling outwards. Within a few minutes you feel it right to your fingertips but it's still bearable.

Bearable until the dull throb settles deep inside you. You feel your sex tightening and releasing and you've got no control over the flutters of arousal that have taken over your body. Fuck, you're wet. You have no idea how but you can feel it already when you press your thighs together beneath the skirt of your dress.

The heat building in your body creeps higher. You find yourself rereading the same sentence of your book over and over and you still have no idea what the hell it said. You need to cool down. Or touch yourself. Since the latter is banned, you settle for taking your jacket off, laying it neatly on the bed.

"Holy fuck, that's cheating." Bucky sounds more than a little strained, his eyes trained on the exposed neckline of your dress and your bare shoulders. "Fuck it, you win."

Within a second you feel his lips are on yours, his body slotting on top of you and this is exactly what you need. His hand trails up the inside of your thighs, groaning against your lips when he finds what he's looking for.

"Jesus, you soaked through your panties." He can't slow down. Not that you want him to. There's a desperation in you both that you'd quite happily drown in, given the chance.

Your clothes fall into a heap on the floor, along with his and although you've hardly even touched him he's rock hard and throbbing; his tip leaking precum that he smears over the slick folds of your cunt.

It's never felt like this before. You're so sensitive, you can do nothing but whimper. You don't know what you need him to do but you know you need more.

"Bucky please. Oh God, please fuck me. I-I can't..." You press your hips up off the bed, hoping to achieve whatever it is that you need but you have no such luck.

"Is this what you want?" He's overconfident, slapping his length against the softest part of your body, enjoying the obscene sounds.

As soon as you nod, he slides himself into your body, almost sobbing at the feeling of you around him. Despite all his teasing, he's convinced he needed this even more than you did.

The first few thrusts feel insane in the very best way. You can't stop yourself from moaning and you certainly can't help the way you try to meet his hips with your own, ensuring he's as deep inside you as possible.

"You've gotta be quiet, honey. Whole damn street can hear you getting fucked like a desperate slut." He's right but you're surprised he cares. "Open that pretty mouth."

You do as you're told, waiting for him to fill your mouth with his fingers or maybe spit in it but you weren't expecting him to set your own heavy, wet panties on your waiting tongue. "Gonna get you addicted to the way you taste. Just like I am." He keeps his hand clamped over your lips, his hips stuttering while he pumps you full of his cum but that doesn't mean he's finished. Not even close.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #Bucky Barnes smut #darkbestfriend!bucky #I've already got to tick a lot off my list for the year #I tried caviar #and lobster #and oysters #they were all on it #and I really want to try uni #and this ^^#consider this a formal suggestion btw 👀

647 notes · View notes

pitifulbaby · 5 months

Text

Battle Of The Bands

summary: most people do rather traditional gender reveals, but how does a couple who aren't traditional do one?

pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnancy, eddie has some big feelings, day million of alice not knowing how to do warnings, probably bad writing

a/n: i have been trying to write this for honestly wayyyy toooo long, longer than i should have but! i hope you enjoy this! thank you to the ever so cute @eddieschains for helping me with this! i hope you enjoy! 3.5k words

stranger things masterlist

Parties were never your favorite thing, the crowds were always rowdy and the smell of cheap beer and weed seemed to linger even after you left. But you never minded smaller parties- more so just a friends and family get together. Sure at times they could get loud, but it was never as intense as other parties.

In an odd way you compared it to a spider, the bigger a party gets the more uncomfortable you are, much like a spider. Small spiders are bearable, but as they get bigger? Nope.

So never did you think you would ever have a gender reveal party, you figured if you had kids you would always just find out the gender through an ultrasound, and that never seemed to be a problem for you. It had been Eddie’s idea to do a gender reveal party. He wanted your child to get to experience things he never got to- even if it had to start way before the baby was here yet.

You don’t blame him because you were the same way, you both grew up with hardships and not getting to have things other kids your age did. So you both vowed to give them as much as you can. You two were already obsessed with the baby, only being five months into your pregnancy.

The baby wasn’t fully planned, but that doesn’t mean you two weren’t welcoming the baby with open arms. Things happen for a reason, some good and some bad. But this seemed to be a good thing. Sure you both were rather young to be starting a family, but you two loved each other more than anything in this world, so you knew things would be okay.

Eddie searched for all the ways people reveal the gender, cutting into a cake with the inside being blue or pink, opening a box to reveal balloons, popping those powder poppers, but Eddie thought those were boring and overdone, and truthfully you agreed with him. Maybe it was because those were rather traditional reveals and you two were probably the least traditional in anything. And finally the idea came to him.

The two of you often shopped at thrift stores or garage sales for things, mostly going shopping there for clothes for either of you- wanting to save money to buy brand new things for the baby. Currently your normal clothes just didn’t fit right anymore, some of the oversized shirts you owned still fit, but anything else was just too tight on your stomach that was housing another human. The thrift store you two often went to the most was smackdab in town, a mixture of modern and vintage things mingled into one shop. It was pretty big for a locally owned thrift store, with a section for clothing, furniture, books and movies, and well, everything else you would find at a place like goodwill, but with much nicer things for lower prices.

You were both looking through the maternity clothes, your brows furrowed as you tried to find something you liked. Eddie stood next to you, his hand on your lower back and rubbing soft circles against the fabric of the shirt you wore- that was also one of his shirts. Your gaze wandered over each and every clothing item you looked at, asking Eddie his opinions on whatever you pointed out. He gave you his honest opinion, which was that you would look good in anything, everything and even better in nothing. To which you would either scoff, roll your eyes, feel flustered or all of the above.

After managing to find a good bit of things you liked, you two decided to head to the front to check out and pay. The owners of the store were an older couple, but today it was just the wife running the store. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the younger couple, she knew you both by name- always raved about how you were both her favorite customers.

“Hey you two!” Her voice was cheery, a bit worn from years of smoking and just being as she was older, a southern drawl laced through some of the words she spoke.

“Hi Mrs. Mabel,” Eddie replied with a smile, placing your clothes on the counter. The elder lady simply rolled her eyes at Eddie, smacking his arm softly, “I told you to stop adding ‘Mrs’ to the beginning of my name, makes me feel old and I already feel one foot in the grave.” Mabel scowled at the boy, which only caused you to laugh and lean against Eddie ever so.

Mabel started to ring up the clothes that were priced amazingly low, smiling at the two love birds in front of her. “How have you been feeling, Mom?” She questions, eyes landing on you and letting her gaze shift to your swollen stomach. You simply let out a soft groan at her question, leaning more against Eddie as the woman lets out a snort of a laugh. “I get it honey,” She replies with a soft smile.

The rest of the transaction goes fast, her quickly ringing the clothes up and bagging them. Before you two leave though she turns to Eddie. “This is a bit random, but someone dropped off this guitar and it's rather banged up so we aren’t going to sell it. Do you want it?” She questions as she brings up an older looking, wooden acoustic guitar. There was a large water stain on it and it looked like someone went to town on it with markers and crayons. There were scratches on it and one of the strings was snapped.

As Eddie looks at the guitar, you could almost see the lightbulb going off above his head, a wide smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “You sure?” He asks, in which she simply nods, “You would be doing me a favor.” She says handing over the guitar. He grabs the neck of the guitar, “Thank you.”

Once you two were seated in your car, Eddie seated in the drivers seat and you in the passenger, but before driving away he turns to you with a big smile. “I figured it out.” He says, a sense of pride evident in his voice. You arched a brow at him, leaning back against the seat and after moving the vents to blow air directly at you. Your head is turned to him, staring at him. The car is silent, which is much different from when you first get in his van and he puts the keys in, music usually will blast out- but he doesn’t play the music super loud in your car. It's always turned down to a respectable level.

You two blink at one another for a moment before you finally speak, “Are you gonna tell me what you figured out or do I have to guess?” You ask with a cock of your head, Eddie blinks and lets out a small laugh, “Sorry, got distracted looking at you.” Somehow his smile manages to widen as he speaks. You roll your eyes to try and hide how flustered his words made you, feeling heat rise in your chest. “Stop it,” You manage to get out, words breathy.

“No sweetheart, I’m not gonna make you guess. I figured out how we are gonna do the gender reveal.” Eddie’s words are sickeningly sweet, leaning over the console to press a kiss to your lips before he is seated normal and driving the two of you back home.

Though you never enjoyed parties, you couldn’t help but be excited for this one. Nancy had helped you and Eddie plan the whole thing, letting you two come up with the ideas and came up with a few herself, and then she would help get the things needed. Since you and Eddie were far from traditional, you two planned it all differently than a normal gender reveal. The dress code was simple, if they thought you were having a girl you wore red, and if they thought you were having a boy you wore black.

The party was being hosted at yours and Eddie’s home. Though the dress code was black and red, you two kept the other stuff the traditional blue and pink, only for the fact that it's rather hard to find baby items for parties in black and red.

Nancy had come over at around 10:30 in the morning to help finish setting everything up. She came wearing an outfit that didn’t correspond with either red or black because she was the one who knew if it was a boy or a girl. Nancy was given the gender in an envelope, the ultrasound technician writing the gender of the baby down and sealing it up for you to give to whomever. So she was tasked with knowing.

Though the set up was simple, it screamed you and Eddie. Pink and blue guitar picks decorating the table, balloons shaped like music notes, lots of sweet treats and salty foods, you had gotten a cute journal and put it on the table for everyone to either sign their names or just write something sweet for the baby to read when they got older, and then a sign on the wall that said;

“Battle of the bands! Cast your vote, BLACK Sabbath vs RED Hot Chilli Peppers!”

The black was colored blue and the red was pink, and to cast your vote all you had to do was write your name on a little music note sticker and stick it under the respected side of the ‘band’ you were voting for. There were some other little things here and there, but the thing everyone was here for was of course, the reveal.

Eddie had thought long and hard about how to go about it, but the day Mabel gave him the old guitar that was honestly needing to be trashed, he knew what he had to do. Eddie explained to Nancy to get that colored powder that they use in the gender reveal videos, stick a bunch of it in the soundhole in the body of the guitar and then seal it up so none of the color seeps out.

And then it would be simple, the guitar would be smashed and the color would fly out.

Eddie had given you the opportunity to smash the guitar, but you told him you thought it would be better if he did, and after a bit of back and forthing he finally agreed to be the one to smash it.

The party was in full swing, it was full of your closest friends, the people who you thought of as your family. You weren’t close with your biological family, never really were. You were always the outcast, the black sheep so to say, of the family. And truthfully you can’t remember the last time they tried to contact you, so you never contacted them. So they weren’t invited to the party.

The only person Eddie was truly in contact with in his family was his uncle Wayne, who was Eddie’s saving grace. So he was the only blood family there.

Then of course there was the rest of corroded coffin, plus the other close members of the hellfire club. And then the other members of the close, tight knit family you created.

Eddie was glued to your hip for most of the pregnancy, and today wasn’t any different- and to some others it would be annoying, but truthfully you didn’t mind it. Maybe you two were in the honeymoon phase, but it had been like this since you two started dating when you were both sixteen. But you were both now freshly twenty three, so perhaps this was just gonna be how you two would always be.

A gentle hand was rubbing up and down your back, your lover letting you lean into him as you stood talking with Wayne.

Wayne Munson was a wonderful man, a hardheaded gentleman with a heart of gold. He never doubted that either of you could take care of a child- though you knew he kinda hoped you two would’ve waited a little later in life. But, he was happy for you both and excited to be a grandfather, though he joked and said he was too young to be one.

“Now you tell me if this boy isn’t helping you, alright?” Wayne spoke, a southern twang laced in his words as his hand reaches out and grabs a hold of Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a small shake. His words caused you to laugh and Eddie to groan, “Wayne-”

“He is very helpful, wont let me do anything myself.” You said with a bright smile, enjoying seeing Eddie embarrassed. But before the conversation could continue, Nancy was wandering over to the three of you, a soft smile on her face as she reaches a hand and places it against your arm. “You guys ready?” Nancy had told you guys to stay inside while she set the rest of the stuff outside, planning to do the reveal in the driveway.

“You ready to smash a guitar?” You said as you turned to Eddie, you weren’t surprised to see him already looking at you, he pouts softly. “It's gonna feel like I'm committing a sin, but yes.”

In truth he was scared as hell, not for the fact of smashing a guitar, but knowing the gender. It’s not that he wants one more than the other, it was more so the fact that the moment he knows what it will be will be making it that much more real. He was excited to be a father, but he still had that lingering fear of fucking up the kids life. He didn’t want to turn out like his dad, and it feels like everyday that passes the memories he had with his mother become more hazy.

He had Wayne and he was the father figure he needed, but he still had that anxiety that no matter what, that it would happen. No matter how many times you reassure him he can’t help but wonder, what if it's just in his genetics? What if sometime down the line something in him switches and he becomes a carbon copy of his father?

But everytime you look at him with that smile, each time he feels a kick, looking at the sonogram, that fear seems to slowly start to fade.

Moments later the gaggle of your found family is crowded in the driveway, Eddie holding the guitar carefully as his gaze finds yours. Jonathan was in charge of recording it all, which he had no problem in doing so, Nancy was stood by a radio, shoving a cassette tape in and soon Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns n’ Roses was playing through. The song causes Eddie to laugh, his grip on the guitar tightening as he holds it safe and nearly doubles over in laughter, which in turn causes you to laugh at his enjoyment.

Neither of you were expecting the song choice, but boy was it welcomed.

Once again Eddie was looking towards you, “Ready?” He yelled out to you over the song, placing the guitar over his shoulder and gripping the neck tight. Your left hand went and rested against your stomach, nodding with a bright smile. “C’mon! I wanna know what I’m growing!” You soon exclaimed back, you knew no matter what gender you were having you would be happy, and you knew you sounded like most every parent out there when you said all you wanted was for the baby to be healthy, but it was true. That was all that mattered to you, that the baby was happy and healthy.

With a playful eyeroll Eddie was then rearing back the guitar before smashing it against the concrete. And with the single smash the neck of the guitar snapped off, causing pink powder to puff out of the body of the guitar and settle against the ground.

Eddie is then letting go of the broken neck, jumping for joy as he hollers excitedly. You, of course, were an emotional mess. The moment the color appeared the tears pooled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks. Everyone around you was screaming and cheering, but they got tuned out the moment the gender was revealed.

It didn’t take a second longer before Eddie was sprinting towards you and taking you into his arms. A second later he was pulling away, resting his hands against your cheeks. “We are gonna have a baby girl!” You sobbed out, hands grasping the sides of his shirt. His only reply was an excited laugh, pressing his lips to yours- but it was difficult to kiss as you two smiled so intensely.

The kiss was interrupted as a pop! Sound was heard, which turned out to be Gareth and Dustin popping streamers over you and Eddie. The male pulled you into a hug once again, pressing kisses to your forehead as your friends swarmed over.

“I told you guys it was gonna be a girl.” You heard Max say to Dustin and Lucas, her arms crossed over her chest as she smirked at them. “I should’ve bet money on it.” She added, which made Dustin roll his eyes and Lucas to shrug his shoulders.

The rest of the party seemed to settle after that, the younger hellfire members helping clean off the driveway- which was just hosing down the driveway. Everyone chatted for a bit before starting to leave, not before giving the two of you a hug and words of congratulation. Nancy, Jonathan and Wayne had stayed back to help clean, there wasn’t much to clean and you know it wouldn’t take long for you and Eddie to do it, but they took the chores upon themselves.

Each and every single time you tried to help you were just shooed away, which in a way you were okay with- you had been on your feet for quite some time today and you were really feeling it now.

Wayne ended up staying the longest, helping Eddie make the three of you a nice dinner before he decided it was time for him to head back home, leaving with a kiss to your forehead and a soft smile. Eddie had walked Wayne out to his truck, which you knew that they would be outside talking for a good while. So while they were outside you had gotten yourself ready for bed, laying under the downy soft comforter with a book.

Eddie had wandered back inside almost half an hour after he walked his uncle out, a tired glaze in his eyes and his features relaxed. He locked up the house before stepping into your shared bedroom, quickly changing into a pair of pajamas- which consisted of an old pair of sleep pants and a shirt he cut the arms off. Once he had gotten under the covers he was propping himself up on his side, gently taking your book from your hands and putting the bookmark in.

He placed the book on the side table before settling back where he just was, his free hand nudging up your cotton sleep shirt and resting upon your bump. You two just laid there and stared at one another for a moment or so, his thumb rubbing against your skin.

You could feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, letting yourself curl into Eddie. “Oh honey,” He cooed softly, laying back flat on the bed and taking you with him. Your arms wrap around his torso as you rest your head against his chest- not fully laying on him, more so half on him. “What's wrong?” He asked quietly, “I don’t mean to cry,” You start with a sniffle, “I’m just, really happy.” Your words were sincere, giving Eddie a squeeze as you spoke. With a small laugh he is pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Me too, a baby girl. In just four more months we will have a daughter.” Eddie spoke with awe in his voice, his hand starting to rub your back while the other one takes a hold of your hand and rests it against his chest. Your tears had subsided, more so just watering up but they never fell. You find yourself relaxing as you listen to the thud, thud, thud, of your lovers heartbeat. Feeling any tense muscles in your body ease up as your eyes slip shut.

“We are gonna have to come up with a name, and we still need to paint the nursery- how is it that nine months feels so long but, fuck, its going by so fast.” Your words were slightly slurred as you felt the tug of sleep pulling at you, “I still think that Ozzy is a kickass name.” Eddie said after a few moments of silence, causing a laugh to bubble up, moving your hand from his hold and reaching over and gently pinching his nipple.

“Hey! Stop- what if I gotta breast feed?” Eddie nearly squeals, using his now free hand to cover his nipple. “You grabbing my nipples is how you got pregnant.” He grumbles, “If I remember correctly it was the other way around.” You retorted back, “Also, if you somehow magically start producing milk, I am taking you to a doctor.” Was the last thing you managed to say before sleep finally took hold of you.

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x pregnant reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie x reader

211 notes · View notes

phasecornnuts · 23 days

Note

I would love to power bottom Valentino from hazbin hotel ples 😏 also I LOVE angst so maybe a bit of that 😌 head cannons or a fic doesn’t matter I love words

Hello again whores! This is over 16k words…. I think I may have a problem, but I cooked so whatever

Tbh I may open writing commissions bc I love y’all but if I’m writing biblical epics I lowkey would appreciate being paid (college is expensive) 😭

CW: For general angst and Drug use

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hated working nights, but working for Val always meant you worked nights. If someone were to ask you to write a list of everything you disliked about the club, you’d swear the exterminators would be here by the time you were done with it. But alas, it was what it was and there was nothing you could do to change it. That fucking contract made sure of that.

There were a few things that could make your shift bearable though. You liked Angel, even though he didn’t really come by anymore because of that stupid hotel, you liked the free drinks, even though Val made sure they were watered down after you vomited on a customer, and you liked the pills Val would give you, even though they made you feel loopy when you preformed. Those were the shit. Grade A. Top tier. Happiness in a tablet the size of your fingernail.

In your dressing room you watched the clock, five minutes. God, you were already sweating in the shitty outfit Val made you wear for tonight. A frilly maid outfit with black lingerie underneath, the man wanted a strip-tease and he was gonna have it one way or another. With Angel gone, you were the only other person he thought was worth headlining. That felt good to hear, even if you were only second choice. Maybe Angel being gone was a good thing, not for him but for you, maybe Val would see that you’re better than him, that you tried more. Maybe then you could be the star, and not just the understudy. Maybe, maybe, maybe; The word’s rhythm wavered in your head.

Hoping for Val to want you was fruitless though, you knew. Angel was the golden goose- or spider, you supposed - and it would take an act of god for someone to eclipse him. You took your eyes off the clock, knowing getting lost in your thoughts would just lead to a spiral of self-loathing. You closed your eyes and released a heavy sigh. On your table, beside your makeup and phone stood a fluorescent orange bottle. Unscrewing the cap you let loose three in your palm before capping the bottle. You ran the pad of your thumb over the tiny white buttons, smooth and chalky, before placing them in a row on your tongue, all washed down with watery gin. A twisted communion.

You lean back in your chair, wondering when the pills are gonna kick in. About two minutes pass before you hear the door to your dressing room open and a tired waitress with smudgy blue eyeliner and a crooked wig tilts her head towards the hallway to tell you it’s time for you to get on stage. Walking past her, you can smell a heavy peach scented perfume she used to try to cover the smell of sweat. Your heels clacked on the tile floor as you walked up to the entrance of the stage. You scratched your back from the itchy fabric of the costume, then adjusted the tops of your stockings. The song that’s currently playing ends and the performer before you walks to the back, they’re huffing and tired. They stretch and pop their back before looking at you, mouthing “Good luck.” The DJ of the club took a beat before announcing you to the crowd. Rolling your shoulders, you walked on stage feeling the hot spotlights shine on you.

That’s when it hits.

All of the tension you held in your body lifted, and your mind began to swim as you felt the Oxy kick in. Fuck, they really were the best. They made you feel warm and floaty, made the world seem bearable. You swung your hips seductively as you sauntered to the pole, ready to begin your act. Looking around, all the faces of the crowd blended together. It felt like the world was painted in watercolor, all of its harsh edges gone, replaced with washes that drifted out into nothing.

A chemical confidence kicked in then. Those languid movements of yours had everyone entranced, grinding your sex to the pole as you teased eager watchers with a peek up your skirt. Over the music you could hear their hoots and wolf-whistles, then frenzy when you began to shimmy off your top, exposing that black bra you had on under. You throw it out into the crowd, grateful not to have that polyester piece of shit on you anymore. The way they all clamor to catch it made you bite your bottom lip with a smirk. They were all so pathetic.

You spun on the ball of your foot, but the weightlessness of your opioid addled body worked against you, making you fall. Luckily you caught yourself on your hands, pretending it was some sultry move like a lady in a porno. The crawling was good though, you pretended to fuck the stage before you got to the center. You leaned back on your hands, stretching out a heeled foot that they all begged to touch. One almost did, before you snatched it away.

Slipping off that ugly skirt and kicking it off into the drunken crowd felt so good. They were transfixed, enthralled, however you wanted to put it. Your high made everything better, blanketing your body in comfort- That was always the peak. Savoring those small moments that made them scream. Looping and spinning and sliding and going upside down, stretching your legs out spread-eagle. When you felt the room start to spiral you stopped with your back to it for support. With a fake sexiness you slid your hand down your stomach, into those thin painties before taking it out.

God, it felt good to be desired even if it was like this. Sure, Val didn’t want you, but they did. All those sinners and hell-born who clamored to touch you and have you touch them. How they fought over an ugly, scratchy top because you wore it.

Turning your head you saw a wide-eyed patron ignoring a half-drank glass. You smirk and crawl towards them, and their eyes turn to the size of saucers. Reaching the edge of the stage you lean over, hanging over their small table. You opened your mouth wide enough to kiss- But you didn’t. You let your tongue hang out of your mouth, letting a fat drop of spit land in their drink. That was all they could have of you; You smile and go back to the stage to continue your act.

You don’t know how long he’d been standing there when you saw him. Valentino. He nips at his cigarette while he looks at you, not knowing what he’s thinking. Your moves become bigger, looser, hoping to impress him. A glob of phlegm sits at the back of your mouth and you swallow, feeling the tenseness grow inside your body. I can be good too, see! I’m as good as Angel! Even better! Please…please don’t fire me.

He walks closer to the stage as you keep grinding on the pole. Your eyes meet for a second before you look away, unsure. When he reaches the edge of the stage is when you slam yourself to the floor- the crowd hollered. Val adjusts his glasses and takes a long, long drag from his cigarette. Your body cranes towards him, head lowered in reverence while you studied his face. Val was always so hard to read, that’s the thing you hated most about him - well, at least one of them- was he displeased, impressed, disinterested? Fuck if you knew.

With one hand he pinched your face, between his pointer and thumb. He pressed his mouth to yours, filling it with all of that warm smoke. The roof of your mouth hurt so much, but the rest of your body trembled. He’d never been this open, kissing you, watching you dance, it felt so, so good to have his attention. Val pulled away, pink cloud leaving your parted lips.

Valentino leaned in, “Meet me in the back.”

“I still have five minutes left…”

“I’m your boss.” There was a vague sternness to his words, what were five minutes compared to his regard?

You breathed heavily. “Gimme a second.”

Quickly as you could you got off stage. Your head was spinning and you couldn’t tell why- was it the Oxy? The drink? The dancing? The cigarette? All of them combined. The backstage was full of cold air, making goosebumps prickle over your legs. You crossed your forearms and leaned them on the wall. Eyes closed, you counted backwards from 100; 100, 99, 98, 97- Val with his cigarette showed up in your mind, how he pulled your mouth to his, how you shivered, how you liked it. You tried again, but he kept lingering. Another restart, going a bit longer this time, but you gave up somewhere around 56.

Through the backstage hallway you walked to the back, The Velvet Rooms. Those fancy, gilded places hidden away that only those Val liked - or who could afford it- could enter. Valentino hid himself away in the biggest one, a room within the wall closed off with heavy dark blue curtains. The Velvet Rooms were where Overlords and certain Goetia came to be spat on, spanked, and other “peculiar wants” that Val catered to.

Opening the curtains you were struck with the heavy scent of his smoke. You closed them shut, the room illuminated by a faint pink light. Val sat on the couch, legs spread wide and arms slung over the top, his heavy coat thrown to some unknown corner. Seeing him reminded you of how little clothes you had on. Val’s second set of arms beckoned you over, you obeyed. He rested them on your waist, idly feeling the texture of your garter belt.

“Good of you to come carino,” He kissed your stomach, tittering at the way you quivered. “You did so good I had to meet with you privately.”

“How could I deny you Valcito?” You responded in a honeyed tone that made him chuckle.

“Valcito?” He smirked.

“Aren’t you?” You tilt his head up to see your smiling face, dressed with sultry bedroom eyes, “My little Valcito who liked my dancing.”

Val showed off that gold tooth of his; He kissed your stomach again, leaving a little red mark.

You dropped your hands to his arms, sliding up to his biceps. You bit your lip, so hard and toned. For so long you were curious about Val’s body, his sex, his libido. You wondered what he did to Angel to make him so sore and his voice so hoarse. It was embarrassing how many nights you spent thinking about what he tasted like- though now there was no point, you knew now, cigarettes and citrus vodka.

The tips of his fingers traced along your hips, fingering the thin strap of your panties. Your voice grew weak as he nipped again and again at the soft flesh of your stomach. Mind in a daze, words slipped out of your mouth.

“You know, I’m surprised you called me back here…” A kitten-lick across your navel that made you squirm.

“Why’s that Carino? Don’t think you’re pretty enough?” His voice teased.

“I thought you didn’t like women”

“Why would you think that?” He looped his finger around the hip strap again

“Angel.” He snickered.

“Oh Carino, don’t worry. Angel is just the soup D’Jour,” His finger dipped forward along your hip bone, “Men, women; Women, men; all of those sweet things in-between, how could you pick just one?”

“How poignant.” You said with a bit of a flat affect. His waxing-poetic seemed so unimpressive to you. Though, you felt a stab of guilt for thinking so.

“You, Sugar, I just can’t deny,” Val moved his hands up along your torso, stopping just underneath your breasts, “Good tits, nice stomach, pretty face,” his attention went back to your panties, “You coulda been on the cover of Hustler. Hhhnn, maybe I’ll make you the centerfold this month…”

You leaned over him, pressing your face to his. Fuck, his tongue felt so good in your mouth, making your stomach start to knot and squirm. He took your bottom lip between his teeth, making you whine before you pulled away. Placing tiny nips on his neck, you felt the heat in your stomach grow hotter and hotter and turn to slick. You wanted to touch him, feel him, consume him, and be consumed.

Val pulled away for a second, but it felt like forever. He reached into a shallow pocket and produced a button of something. It was a tiny tablet, waxy and fat, and pinched between his two fingers. You wondered what it was, it didn’t look like Oxy. You hoped it was something stronger, desiring the out of body experience you’d been losing since you started to grow tolerant of the opiate.

“You ever play a game of rolling roulette Sugar?” Val asked, you shook your head no.

“You trade the X tongue to tongue, and whoever’s it dissolves on is the lucky winner.” Oh so it was Ecstasy, now that’s good shit.

Val pulled you onto his lap, cupping a breast, “C’mon Baby, let’s go on a trip together…”

That’s all it took.

The tiny pill teetered between both of your tongues as you kissed, growing smaller and smaller and smaller. Val’s spit was thick and sweet and wonderful, something about it making your body go alight with electricity. The X melted so easy, like blue cotton candy; You could feel the serotonin swell in your brain like a party balloon.

When the first roll happened you moaned into Val’s mouth. All of your nerves were standing on edge, shivering with anticipation. He removed your bra, placing a nipple in his mouth as you felt his cock grow harder. It felt so much better than your other highs. The Oxy only ever calmed things, washed them out. The X was so different, so so much better. Everything seemed to shimmer, like the whole world was wrapped in cellophane. How could you think the absence of feeling was so wonderful when this existed?

Your mind was in a twinkly daze when you started to undress him. He kissed and licked at your neck while you felt your way through unbuttoning his top. Fuck, his skin was so smooth and warm; He pressed you closer, teeth bit into your collar bone before dragging his tongue over the marks he left.

You kissed your way down Val’s body. At his chest you lingered, leaving tiny red marks on the trail to his V-line. Valentino’s head lolled back on the couch as you unzipped his cock with all of its dark hair. You put it in your hand, running your thumb over the leaking tip. He swore under his breath as you pumped him slowly, up and down up and down.

The warmth of your tongue dragged along his thick shaft. Your stomach gets a sharp squirm to it, same as your cunt. It’s hard to tell because of the drugs or how sexy Val looks with his legs wide open and his cock needy for your touch. Looking up at him, you’ve never wanted anything more in your life.

His breath hitched when you took him in your mouth. Your tongue twists and swirls around his cock, savoring the feeling of him hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. To try to calm that darling pain between your legs you rubbed your thighs together, but that didn’t help. All it served to do was make your cunt needier. You push his member deeper and deeper into your mouth; You moan into his sex, making him squeeze the palmful of hair he had in his hand tighter.

“You’re so good, Carino.” He says, breathless. You start to suck him faster, blowing and kissing and licking. Val kept sprinkling compliments throughout. It felt so good to be praised by him; All of those sweet things he’d save for everyone else, but never you. You’re so good, you’re so sexy, you take me so well, you’re so pretty, you make me so hard.

“‘M close.” He grabs your hair again, pulling your face in. Feeling devious, you pulled away, savoring the flustered look on his face. Val is huffing, fucked out, and dazed out of his goddamn mind on X.

“You can stand to wait a little longer Valcito~” You nip at the inside of one of his thighs, making his voice hitch into a falsetto. You dragged the tips of your fingers up to his sensitive stomach, mouth leaving a hard bite outline near his ribs. Tracing him was so wonderful, feeling all of those hard edges give into softness. Nursing on his neck, your thumb and forefinger followed his neck muscle and collarbone, dipping into their crevices.

“Valcito~” Your breath was hot against his neck. He mumbled something under his breath and tried to slip his hand into your panties. You caught his wrist and pushed it away, biting hard on his collarbone. You can wait.

Again your mouth found its way south, the want in your cunt becoming more and more painful. You took him in your mouth again, your saliva getting thick and syrupy. Val seized the opportunity and shoved your head down on his cock, chasing the release you denied him. Your teeth grazed his member before pulling away again. Val whined, his eyes pleading. A dark smile grew on your face before you took him again.

He let out a sharp breath and pressed his hands onto your scalp. You went faster, letting the flat of your tongue trace the vein on the underside of his cock. It was fun playing with him like this, having a little control with him for once. Val’s hands tensed in your hair when he warned you he was going to cum.

When he came he wailed, filling your mouth with his salty taste. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth. Val’s thumb traced your bottom lip, admiring his work.

“You look so good like this, Carino.” He huffed.

Pushing yourself from your knees you kissed Val, his seed still in your mouth. That’s all that took to make him go feral. He pulled you to his lap and laid you down, wrapping your legs around him. Without taking his mouth off yours he took his top off, ramming into your needy sex.

Fuck, Val was bigger than you thought he was. His pace was hard and fast, making you scratch your nails into his back. Your kiss tasted like everything good in the world- cum and grapefruit and cigarettes and cotton candy and euphoria. Both of you swallowed, pulling your faces away to catch your breaths. God, you were so wet, Val’s cock slipped in and out of you so easily and it felt so goddamn good. Better than any finger or cock or toy and it made you squeeze him tighter.

You pressed your forehead to his neck, mumbling nonsense. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” Val spat on his fingers and slipped his hands between the two of you. You didn’t know what he was going to do until you felt his wet fingers graze your clit. He got rougher with it once he found it, making you squeal and cum on him.

That didn’t stop Val though, and god did it feel good. He kept fucking you through your release, making you cum another two times. Your legs felt like jelly, body weak and weightless. The X was releasing its last wave of chemical joy as he fucked you, pleasure rippling inside of you. He came inside you, making you sob into his neck. Val pressed you closer to him, whispering in your ear as you felt your release drip out of your cunt.

“You’re so good baby, so good and pretty.” Pleasepleasepleaseplease, say the magic words.

“I love you, you’re my perfect girl, my pretty baby.” You came again.

His thrusts got sloppier and you could tell he was gonna cum again. “Please, please, please, let me be your favorite, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.” You whimpered.

The anticipation of an orgasm built up, shivering and needy. Val grazed your face and kissed you, “Oh you’re my favorite, baby. My little sullen girl~” He held you closer, savoring the way you squirmed when you came together.

When he was done he stayed inside you. Val pressed his head on the couch beneath you. You traced the scratches you left on his back, feeling your high from the X begin to ebb. Your breath felt so heavy and your mind so fuzzy. That all didn’t matter though, Val wanted you now. He’d been inside you, kissed you, felt you, squeezed you, and couldn’t get enough. He wanted you. So what if it was only for the moment, so what if this meant you could disappoint him, so what if you’re only a place-holder until someone better comes. You’re the favorite.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fanfiction requests #valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #valentino x reader #valentino x you #hazbin hotel imagine #the vees

95 notes · View notes

jungwnies · 1 year

Text

syn ' just rivals? just friends? or is it something more? pairing ' fem!reader x rival!jake (academic rivals to ???)

“this is stupid.” you complain as you stare at your notebook in front of you.

“maybe you just don’t understand it because you’re not as scholarly as me.” jake snickers as he sits at the desk behind you.

you turn your head and give him a death stare, “whatever einstein, that's why you have a big head.”

“at least i’m not failing physics.” jake says, laughing.

you roll your eyes and turn back to your notebook circling the same problem, “seriously, this makes no sense.” you mumble as you continue to do physics in your statistics class.

jake taps your shoulder, “you know if you just let your pride down for a second i could help you out.”

you roll your eyes again, “i’d rather not.”

jake laughs, “well, when you fail, don't blame me for not helping you.”

you sigh and finally give in, “okay fine, help.”

“pleaseeee?” he says, jokingly as he grabs your notebook from you.

you laugh, “shut up.”

jake smiles at you, “this is so easy y/n.”

you give him a straight face and snatch your notebook back, “if you’re going to belittle me then i’d rather not get your help.”

jake grabs the notebook back, “shut up, and let me do my thing.”

the teacher walks up to the two of you, “can you guys please keep it down?” “you guys might be done with the assignment, but the rest of the class isn’t.”

you give jake a certain look and purse your lips together, you look at the teacher and nod, “yeah, sure.”

you lower your tone and watch jake solve the problem in your notebook, “see, all you had to do was add those two together, multiply the velocity to the cos and then divide it by the-”

you cut jake off, “yeah yeah yeah, thanks.”

as the class finishes up the assignment, nearing the end, the teacher handouts a packet.

“alright, guys, listen up for just 5 minutes.” she says, grabbing everyone’s, well almost everyone’s attention. “this is a partner project, this time you will be allowed to pick your partner, your task is to go around and ask people to complete a survey made by you and your partner…” blah blah blah.

you turn around to look at jake, he smiles at you, indicating that the two of you guys would partner up.

“you know, for someone who literally hates me, you always want to partner up with me.” jake jokes.

you give jake the same blank stare, “please don’t let this gas your head, you’re just the only bearable person in this class.”

someone interrupts your conversation, “hey jake, want to be my partner?” she asks, with a smile.

you look at the girl confused, and jake purses his lips, “actually, i already have a partner, sorry.”

the girl looks at you and rolls her eyes, “you guys always partner up together though, why not pick someone else?”

jake laughs, “i don’t know, because we work well together?”

you nod, “yep, two peas in a pod!” you chirp, sarcastically.

the girl walks away with an attitude and you sigh, annoyed.

“what? can’t bear the thought of not working with me?” jake chuckled.

“says you, you’re the one who rejected her.” you tell him.

“i’ll go tell the teacher.” jake says, standing up.

—

“this project is really dumb.” you say as you create the survey. “like seriously, couldn’t there have been a more interesting stats project?”

“y/n, i feel like you’re always thinking something is dumb.” jake says, as he types on the form.

“yeah, because everything is dumb, including you.” you jabbed, jokingly.

“and here i was thinking you liked me.” jake says, jokingly.

you feel your cheeks heat up and you look away and back down at your laptop, “gross.”

jake looks at you and smiles, “what, am i really someone who you dislike?” he questions.

you shake your head, “no, but it’s nice having a rival, no one else cares about academics as much as you do in our grade.”

jake smiles at you.

“what?” you say, looking at him, “why are you staring at me?”

jake shrugs, “i just find it funny how much you care about your grades, yet complain about school all the time.”

you roll your eyes, “well how else am i going to get rich?”

jake looks at you again, “so you don’t hate me?”

you laugh, “what?”

“i mean, you said that it’s nice having a rival, but wouldn’t you also consider us friends?” jake quizzed as the two of you finished up the forms.

you shrug, “yeah i mean i guess you are one of my closest friends.”

“closest?” jake smiles.

you roll your eyes, “sure.”

jake closes your laptop and puts it besides him, he looks at you again, but this time weirdly.

“jake, what are you doing? we have to get this done soon so we can collect data.” you scold him trying to grab your laptop from him.

he leans back as you try to grab your laptop from him, “jake! seriously.” you grumbled, not realizing how all over him you were.

you fall forwards on top of jake and look at him, he had a cheeky smile, and he was looking into your eyes. it was like time went in slow motion.

“you know y/n, you’re really pretty.” he confesses.

“yeah?” you challenged, looking him in the eye.

“yeah.” he tells you, admiring your features.

you get off of him and clear your throat, “anyways, can i have my laptop back?”

jake hands you back your laptop and also clears his throat, “so, will you go on a date with me?”

you choke on air and look at jake, “huh?”

“or did i misread that whole situation?” he asks, now a little nervous.

you laugh, “when and where?” you ask, looking at your laptop still.

jake begins to tell you his plans for taking you out, a smile plastered on his face the whole time.

432 notes · View notes

aechawrites · 1 year

Text

200mph: part one | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

rating: pg13

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking and smoking, y/n is a little uncomfy but jimin stays with her like a good bff, brief mention of a racing accident

summary: as jungkook begins the new racing season, a face he’s never seen before quickly catches his attention.

series masterlist

next chapter ↻

✏︎

“I don’t understand why you want me to go, you have guy friends that are interested in that kind of stuff, don’t you?”

“That’s not the point, Y/n. If I wanted them to go, I would’ve asked them by now, but I asked you.”

You sighed, slightly shaking your head at the begging boy in front of you while slowly making eye contact with the ground and lowering yourself onto the foot of your bed. Your arms were wrapped around your upper body and you couldn’t help but let out another huff, contemplating whether or not you should give him a bullshit excuse as to not go.

Jimin has been your best friend since you were young kids, meeting for the first time in elementary school. As you grew up, the two of you became inseparable, always spending time together. And on a typical day you would have loved spending your Friday night with him, that is, up until recently.

As the two of you began college back in the fall, you both started to branch out and try new things. You knew Jimin was going to fit right in with the frat boys and it was reassuring to have someone watch your back at their parties; it made them a little more bearable. What you did not expect was for Jimin to gain an interest in motorsports, specifically street racing.

You had heard him saying not too long ago that some of the guys in the frat house raced occasionally. 'Big money,' he said, but if only you knew just exactly how much those winners were getting paid, as well as the spectators who decided to bet on certain drivers.

The two of you had just gotten takeout and were lying in your dorm room while watching (and making fun of) random reality shows. You had gotten up to use the bathroom just to come back out and have Jimin spring onto you that there was a street race tonight and a couple of his frat brothers would be there racing.

And instead of going by himself and making friends like the social butterfly he is, he of course had to invite you.

Now here you were, brain working overtime trying to come up with some lame excuse to seem busy. But Jimin knew you weren't.

"Y/n, I promise you'll have a good time tonight. It's not as boring as you think. We'll only be there for an hour or two and then we can come back to the dorms," he expressed while softly pouting his lips at you.

"What's in it for me?"

Jimin rolled his eyes at you. "I'll finish your damn English paper, okay?"

Although still reluctant, you agreed to go. As long as this doesn't become a regular Friday night occurrence for you, how bad could it be? It also helped that he gave you the biggest eye smile after you said yes.

♥︎⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁⦁♥︎

You thought that maybe four to five people would be here racing, bringing a few friends each, but no. Not at all. In fact, the streets were packed like a full house. There had to have been roughly twenty guys standing alongside their expensive muscle cars, engines roaring loudly and echoing through the streets, wheels shining as camera flashes blinded them. There were also probably two hundred people who got their asses up to come out tonight to see these men race. The atmosphere seemed similar to some of the parties you had been to, so it was to no surprise that it garnered a large viewing.

But putting it simply, you were intimidated. It was very crowded and here you were being dragged behind Jimin as he tried to get the two of you closer to the front where the start/finish line was located. Was it really necessary for these large muscular men to keep giving you side eye as you bumped into them?

Had it not been for the dozens of lights and neon signs hung up everywhere, the streets would have practically looked like a ghost town. There was nothing here, close to abandonment, which made for the perfect place. Old beer cans and ashes scattered the ground, you noted that they must have been racing here for a lot longer than you originally thought.

You brought your gaze up, looking around when you noticed there were cigarettes and blunts everywhere. Almost every guy here was either smoking or drinking, sharing with the girls who had draped themselves overtop of them. They were practically naked as they wore knee-high strappy stilettos and those short, skimpy skirts (the ones that stop just below their ass cheeks), paired with either a very cropped tank top, or a V-neck top that rested so low that their breasts would fall out any minute. It was almost impossible not to catch a glimpse of their lacey thongs as they wrapped their arms around the guys' shoulders. Although you knew those guys were enjoying the attention they got, the views being an added bonus.

But what were you wearing tonight? A t-shirt and jeans.

Did Jimin tell you about the unofficial "dress code" for this kind of event? Nope.

You wouldn't have dressed like them even if he had told you, but you also could've worn something even a slight bit more revealing than this! Even if it was a skirt that went mid-thigh along with a tighter top!

You felt a nudge on your shoulder, breaking your train of thought and gaze away from the crowd and closing back on Jimin. His hand was on your elbow as he pulled you closer, leaning down to your ear and started yelling, but you could still barely hear him over the blasting music. "The race is about to start; my pick is Jeon."

"I guess I'll go with him then, too," you said as you smiled back up at him. The two of them had been good friends for a while, so what better choice?

You had heard of Jeon Jungkook, even seeing him around a few times when partying with Jimin. How could you miss him whenever he wore those tight jeans and white shirts that hugged his muscles so perfectly, complementing his tanned skin. And his tattoos! God those fucking tattoos made you want to drop to your knees right then and there for him. It didn't help that he not only had an eyebrow piercing, but also a lip ring that he just couldn't seem to stop playing with. Jungkook is a very attractive man, and you could agree with that whether you were in a drunken state or not.

But you knew Jungkook hadn't heard of you. There was no way. In fact, he never even spared you a glance at any of those parties. His tongue seemed to be always shoved down someone else's throat. The only mutual friend the two of you had was Jimin, but since you both came from complete opposite sides of his life, you were rarely crossed paths with each other.

Yet again, your thoughts were quickly broken, startling you as everyone began to cheer louder; you noticed the guys were now getting into their respective cars. Engines revved as each of their names were introduced, girls fawning and screaming over them.

As everyone moved out of the street and onto the sidewalks, the announcer walked onto the platform, taking the mic. "I want a clean race gentlemen. You know how this goes; first place takes it all. Ready... Set... GO!"

And with that, they were out of your sight as they sped off and made the first turn. From where Jimin had you standing, there were large screens visible on the side of the buildings that showed them from a drone view as they raced through the city. It was terrifying watching as they weaved around each other, just narrowly avoiding a few obstacles that happened to be in the way.

It was easy for you not to lose sight of Jungkook. He stood out by driving the brightest neon blue Chevrolet Camaro you had ever seen, decorated with white stripes down the middle. He also happened to be leading significantly in front of the other racers, giving him just enough time to makes turns a bit more cautiously.

You turned back to Jimin. "How long are they racing for?"

"Usually about 7 miles. Not too long, but just long enough to get a good race out of these guys."

You nodded your head, eyes focusing back onto the screens.

You winced when some of the girls would let out these high-pitched shrieks whenever they saw two of the guys spin each other around, smoke engulfing their cars, but the racing never stopped. It didn't matter what happened or how badly they would place, the race would go on without them.

A few minutes passed by and you could hear the engines becoming significantly louder as they approached the finish line, back where you all stood. The overhead camera still focused on Jungkook as he led the group, but you could see someone quickly coming up from behind him.

You hear Jimin mumble, "Fuck Y/n, if he blocks he might actually win this."

And that he did.

The guy behind was racing aggressively, but Jungkook was able to perfectly block him each time he made an attempt to get around his car, which made for an extremely close photo finish as he sped past the checkered flag. Obviously, all the girls were now cheering even louder than before, starting to run into the street and up to Jungkook as he climbed his way out.

But that's reasonable because fuck did he look so good. Beads of sweat were running down his forehead as his bangs fell in front of his face. That large, tattooed arm of his just had to push the strands of jet-black hair back while a smirk was displayed across his face. He was winking to the girls all around him, once again playing with that damn lip ring.

Jimin pulled you with him to go congratulate Jungkook as they announced his name, but you kept yourself hidden behind his back. This just wasn't your place; you weren't friends with Jungkook, you didn't even know him. Most of their frat brothers were there, high fives and fist bumps being shared between them all, and you stood awkwardly, like you were invading their space.

"Jungkook holy fuck! You're a fucking monster out there!" Jimin laughed as the two of you had shuffled your way directly in front of Jungkook. You had been attempting to stay hidden behind Jimin, but one glance up and now you were making eye contacting with the winner himself.

God, he looked even better up close, those big brown eyes of his displaying so much joy. Maybe a hint of cockiness, too. Just slightly, though.

You, however, quickly looked away, looking anywhere but at him. But Jungkook didn't, he kept his eyes focused on you. Whatever Jimin had been saying became muffled and was going in one of his ears and out the other.

Jungkook was confused. Were you one of Jimin's friends? How had he never seen you before? He definitely would have noticed and remembered you! Were you usually at these races?

He must have zoned out and before he knew it, you and Jimin had started walking away from him as more people tried coming closer to talk to and congratulate him about the win. The girls you had observed from the beginning of the night were now wrapping their arms around him, posing for pictures to post to social media, but he didn't even bother to pay them any attention.

As the night passed by, Jungkook tried celebrating with the rest of his frat house but just couldn't get the picture of you out of his head. Who were you? He made a note to himself to question Jimin once he came back for the night.

///

a/n; it's finally here!! i'm so excited for this series and i really hope you are too!!!!! please leave feedback🤍🤍

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #racing #jeon jeongkook #jeongguk #college #kpop #jungkook smut #bangtan #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

637 notes · View notes

spacebarbarianweird · 24 days

Text

Pleasure

Synopsis: Astarion teaches Tiriel to give a blowjob.

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Tags: smut, oral sex, trauma talk

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

The late evening is sweet and warm, the stars shining beautifully in the dark skies.

It’s Astarion’s second spring as a free person.

These months always bring hope, and even in his years of slavery Astarion sometimes dared to dream of freedom in those few weeks when nature was new.

Astarion looks to the right. Tiriel walks beside him in her spidersilk armor. The two-handed ax is strapped on her back. She looks ahead with almost child-like amusement.

He can’t take his eyes off her.

Freckles, wrinkles on her forehead, those funny half-elven ears. He knows every small detail of her body – and loves her mindlessly.

Tiriel notices his look and takes his hand. Her skin is warm, and Astarion squeezes her fingers tighter.

She is much younger, only thirty-eight. The year she was born, he was forced to entertain a certain nobleman from Amn for an entire year. And by the end of it, Astarion thought that returning back to the mansion wouldn't be so bad because at least there he could pretend he was something more than a toy to play with in bed.

Tiriel was beaten by her relatives for being a half-elf. He was beaten and tortured for fun.

Tiriel was starved and humiliated by her own blood. He was fed rats and fleas by his master.

At the age of fifteen, she managed to escape, and Astarion’s undead heart aches when he thinks about young Tiriel, almost a child, wandering the wilderness on her own, without a weapon or armor.

Shedidn’t even have a name before an old adventurer, a tiefling-paladin, explained to her that “pixie” and “fairy” aren’t an appropriate way to call a young woman, no matter her race and origin.

Tiriel told Astarion all these with a bitter smile – her cheating mother, evil chieftain stepfather, cruel siblings, years of traveling on her own, the way she chose her own name at the age of fifteen. The loneliness and pain she tried to soothe with drinking.

But Astarion knows Tiriel too well. She still suffers for what happened to her. Tears prickle her eyes when she talks about her miserable childhood.

They both have a lot of darkness in their past. She consoles him after nightmares and soothes his anxieties. He tells her how beautiful she is.

He smiles to himself. Maybe the gods did hear him after all, making Tiriel’s father stay for the night in the village in the Sunset Mountains and sleep with the chieftain’s wife. It just took Tiriel some time to grow up and get to Baldur’s Gate.

“Well, the night is young and we have many hours of travel again. I wonder if there is any village we can get to by the morning,” Astarion says.

“I doubt it. One more day in the tent, then,” she shrugs.

“Easy for you, Tiriel, you don’t have to stay inside! And I am trapped, protected from the murderous sunlight only by a thin layer of fabric.”

“First of all, you keep me for yourself until I absolutely need to go out,” she laughs. “Second, it’s an enchanted fabric, and third it’s a very big tent! Don’t complain!”

“Oh, it’s not fun to be in a relationship if I cannot complain!”

Tiriel brushes her finger along his cheek. He closes his eyes, savoring the touch. If only he knew she was already alive in the last decades of his slavery. Maybe it would make things more bearable.

Then he notices Tiriel looking to her side. She opens her mouth and then immediately shuts it, as if trying to say something but not knowing how.

His wild girl doesn’t have a wide vocabulary, that’s for sure.

“What is it, my sweet?”

“Oh? Nothing!” she blushes. “Nothing-”

Astarion is sure there is something on her mind but he isn’t sure if he should push her. Tiriel doesn’t like it.

Neither does he.

They keep walking through the valley and no matter how sharpened Astarion’s senses are, he doesn’t catch any sentient creature’s scent.

There is no one for many miles.

“Astarion,” Tiriel calls him out.

“Yes? What is it?”

She takes a deep breath and stares at her feet. Astarion is sure he’s never seen her that embarrassed.

“I want to take you in my mouth.”

Astarion has to put an effort not to laugh. “And what exactly in this gods forbidden place made you want this?”

She turns her head away avoiding looking at him.

“I’ve been thinking about it for three days.”

“What self-control!”

“Don't laugh, Astarion! Besides, you've gone down on me already! Even when I was on my period!”

He chuckles remembering the taste of her moon blood. It was incomparable to anything else.

“You are a half-elf, my dear, I couldn’t miss the only time you bleed every year and a half. In your case, it’s a rare treat. Not so rare if you were a pure-blood elf of course. Then we would have to wait for a decade.”

“I want to,” she says. “I want to give you pleasure.”

“As if you don’t already give it to me,” he approaches Tiriel and puts his fingers on her neck, where a fresh bite mark is slowly healing. “But who am I to say no to such a generous offer?”

He looks around and notices a boulder that he can comfortably sit on.

Tiriel impatiently waits till he puts his sack on the ground and sits. Now Astarion can feel her arousal and he contemplates if he should just fuck her like he usually does.

He spreads his legs a bit so she can unlace his trousers without an effort.

“Should I undress?” She asks.

“Take off your armor. The rest only if you want to.”

Tiriel quickly gets rid of the spidersilk armor and stays only in her shirt and trousers. Then, she contemplates for a bit and takes off her top as well. Her skin immediately is covered with goosebumps and her nipples harden because of the cold air.

Astarion feels the tension between his legs. Tiriel knows what she has just done to him.

“Kneel,” he asks. He tries to make it sound like a request, but it sounds like an order anyway. Tiriel bites her lower lip and slowly sits down.

Astarion admires her face for a few moments and then nods allowing her to unlace his trousers. His cock is soft and Tiriel carefully kisses the base of the shaft.

“You haven’t done this before, right?” He asks, feeling his arousal grow.

“Which part of ‘I was a virgin’ don’t you remember?” She asks, planting a kiss right below his navel.

“Yes… True… Well, I’ve probably received it a couple of times, although I don’t remember. Usually, I was giving…” He shivers when Tiriel kisses his half-naked hip.

“Should I take it?” She mutters.

“Wait,” Astarion brushes her hair with his fingertips. “It will be difficult to swallow it fully, it will just be unpleasant. Use your hand.”

“Like that?” Tiriel grabs his cock the same way she grabs her weapon and Astarion gasps.

“I knew what I was getting into,” he murmurs. He feels hot down there, all his thoughts and emotions are focused on his own cock which is getting harder as Tiriel holds it.

“Yes- Yes, like that,” he grabs a fistful of her hair and makes her head lean towards his cock. “Now relax your tongue and lick the tip. Do it, don't be afraid.”

Tiriel studies the cock for a while and then touches the sensitive head with her tongue. She licks it, forcing a string of pre-cum to flow down the shaft, and then kisses the tip.

“Does it feel good?” she asks.

“Yes-”

“Great, because I like it, too,” she finally goes down and takes the part of his cock into her mouth.

Astarion whimpers as Tiriel starts sucking him. She still hasn't fully taken him into her mouth, and he doesn’t expect she will. Tiriel looks up, maintaining eye contact and he sees tears in the corners of her eyes.

Her right hand goes up under the shirt where she squeezes his right nipple forcing Astarion to moan loudly.

Inexperienced or not, Tiriel knows his body too well, all of his sensitive parts.

Then she stops half cock still in her mouth and her eyes smirk.

What is she up to?

She goes down fully, her lips meeting the base of the shaft. Astarion feels his legs shiver.

He is throat-deep in her and the feeling is like nothing that he’s experienced before. Tears flow down Tiriel’s cheeks. Astarion leans back, and Tiriel uses her right hand to reach out for his balls.

“Ngh,” he whimpers, feeling his orgasm getting closer. He thinks he should pull her head away and come on her naked breasts or on her face – he’s personally always hated getting gushed down his throat – but before he manages to make any coherent movement he finishes in Tiriel’s mouth.

Tiriel lets his still-hardened cock go and Astarion expects to hear a cough or gagging sounds but instead, she stands up on her wobbling legs, smiles, and parts her lips to show the white pool of cum on her tongue.

Then she swallows it.

“You taste divine,” she murmurs, letting him taste himself on her lips. “And look very cute right now.”

Astarion slowly returns back from the high of his orgasm.

“Did you like it?” She asks.

“It was perfect. Everything you do to me is perfect.”

She giggles and then looks at his manhood. It’s still painfully hard.

“I can do the second round,” she says, licking her lips, but Astarion pushes her onto the grass and tugs her trousers. Her own entrance is wet and swollen.

“I want you to scream my name,” he murmurs, getting rid of the last pieces of his own clothes. “I want you to moan and whimper like the good, wild girl you are,” Astarion adjusts himself and feels her warmth around him the next moment. “And then I will come on these breasts of yours.”

Tiriel cups his face and parts her swollen lips.

“I would love nothing more.”

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume @brainfullofhotsauce @coffeeanddonutscafe @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @queenofthespacesquids @ednaaa-04 @dajeong @herautumnmorningelegance

115 notes · View notes