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plasticfangtastic · 3 months

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Carnivorous Lamb Ch. 7

A Homelander x M! OC fanfic

A/N: Hi officially on a writing hiatus till further notice, hope y'all enjoy this work I certainly loved writing this, thank you so much for reading this work, i will most likely post the last already writen chapters for this fic but any other work is on hiatus, prev. chapter here:

tags: homelander being himself, ntr-ish, age gap, priest kink.

Chapter Seven

Bloosoming

He was glad it was so dark.

Harking back it was a surprise that their ruse had lasted for so long, there was a certain comfort in the secrecy of their relationship, the town had mostly never met him, his face in disguises and he had never once attended a single mass– not where he could see him anyways.

This was the closest they could’ve ever wished to be together, every second share more precious than the last.

Something that was more real than anything in his life was also very much an illusion and fantasy, he didn’t speak for a long minute simmering the strong liquor in his mouth before sliding his chair towards him, until their armchairs rested on each other, as his head began to drop on a lean Homelander wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

It wasn’t a comfortable way to snuggle but that was symbolic if not ironic at this point.

His mouth never opened, just wanting to rest against Homelander to make sure it wasn’t a bad dream.

John would only visit him in dream after he left… Those handsome men all washed away by the shape of him, by those pretty blue eyes, by that ugly chuckle of his, by that strong grip and the bruises that he missed after all these years.

He replaced them all even his bed smells like sunflowers and cotton.

A dream of them horse riding in yellow pastures, snowy mountains watching over them, just never ending pale golds, another life perhaps for neither of them really looked like themselves, there was no church or tower to come back to, no suits or collars just towering mountains and the whistling of grass. That’s all Homelander had left him with an impossible fantasy that only comes in solitary nights but now he was here with him again on another one of those nights.

Amarello kissed his jaw.

He wouldn’t utter a word as the young blond kissed him, as he grew hungrier and greedier, incessant in his onslaught only stopping when somebody walked close to the door.

“Wa…Wanna see my room?” He said shyly.

“You don’t think people will notice… bit late for this kind of visitation… I’m not qualified to do exorcisms” He chuckled fixing the man’s hair, thinking of how badly his lips were throbbing– so…”

“What are they gonna say?”

There was something malicious in his tone, on the way his mouth formed a thin smile and he got up, dragging him back into his feet.

The few faces that turned their way quickly looked away as they noticed the priest followed Homelander, their whispers kept behind their lips afraid of being caught, their criticisms and queries for nobody to hear.

Amarello tried to keep his distance in the elevator but Homelander still found a way to creep closer, by the time they reached the apartment floor he cared very little if he got caught, as if it would provide some justified devious excuse to be bratty.

The penthouse was maximilalist in a bad way, outright garish… he couldn’t blame the security guards for thinking this was a kink thing… for he had bad taste it seems.

He dragged him into his room, talking of having room service bringing some drinks if that’s what he liked.

“Why does your balcony have no guardrails?”

“I don’t need them.” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I don’t think that’s up to code…”

“It was like that when I moved in.”

“Last guy could also fly?” He raised his brow.

Homelander stared at the dangerous balcony, for the first time in all his years he gave it a thought.

“I was always meant to be here…” He falls into his leather couch watching the ceiling– I was made for this room… everything here was meant for me.”

There’s something disturbing about the thought that makes Homelander skin crawl, glad that Amarello failed to notice but also wanting the return of his ignorance.

“Including the decour? Or do you enjoy being endlessly watched… Does it make you feel less lonely… I would feel a lot lonelier if I had this many faces looking at me.”

Homelander rested on his elbows posturing himself towards him watching the man wonder about the paintings. Compared to his home this place looked like a museum, Amarello only had a wall clock, a cross, a couple pictures less than 5 in all truth and a banner for the Denver Broncos– Homelander tried to not look annoyed as the man pressed his fingers against golden frames.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Yes.”

He spoke quietly, turning around to face him only when he found the bedroom.

“You broke my heart. You grind it into a fine powder and then you tell me you love me… when you know… we cannot… you should’ve left me be… I had finally given up on ever seeing you again.” He held back a sob– did you bring me here to make sure I could never forget you…? as if I could…?”

He turned to face him getting slapped by the wind, jumping at the whip of his cape cracking in-between them.

“What you wish you could? You wish you could go back in time and make sure I didn’t bother you?” There’s poison in his tongue just as much as there is pain trying to mask itself with ire– give up on me.”

“No.” His lips wavered as he tried to muster a sad smile– quite the contrary… if I could meet you again… in this life or another… I would… always John… even if I can’t be with you… I would– you still broke my heart yet I have no right to grieve.”

“I… why not?” He said taking those calloused hands into his red gloves– why can’t we be together? My enemies are gone… the people who could’ve ordered me around are mostly gone and Edgar isn’t going to be a problem… I’ll find a way to get rid of him… we could… we…”

“While I violated the Nicene creed… is not easy for you to ask me to abandon everything I know… am a priest I have been a priest my whole life… am in my 50s– what prospects do I have? What prospects do we have? I’m not good… you don’t know”

Homelander could see where this was leading, hitting harder than a car wreck, as if his skin was made of clay and would break upon the slightless impact. 5 years had been enough for him to accept that their love could never be… 5 years he kept him in the back of his mind, 5 years he only watched him from afar until he couldn’t bear it anymore.

And this man had also kept him there… talking to his memory… believing he would never have a chance to talk.

He should’ve known that this was doomed.

He wasn’t naive anymore. He wasn’t that young man anymore… his loves have been as bountiful as the mountains of broken lovers he’s left behind, he’s amassed quite the collection if he’s frank and now this would be another to add on the pile.

How much he wished he could go back to being that young man again… how much he wished he could’ve lasered all of them until the stench of cooked gore became perfume… how much he wished he could have kept him.

“I love you, John.” He kissed him more chaste than he had ever hoped for– I love you… even if you like hurting me… but I want you to hurt me… make me unable to forget if that’s what you so desire.”

The lion could still maul.

One last goodbye before hitting the road.

Just one night wouldn’t hurt.

His body taste sweeter than before, there’s a deepness to his skin that wasn’t there before, the sun has left his mark but he’s still perfect under his tongue, the way he writhes and wriggles against his touch, the way he moans at Homelander’s fingers as they enter and leave quickly leaving him out of breath, his knees closing on themselves as Homelander entertains another finger, before he can cry Homelander is quick to silence him with kisses, he mutters faintly against his lips but nothing that Amarello can decipher, he just drowns in the waves of his pampering, in the undulations of his lip as he seeks to drink the life out of him, he clings to the man as he adjust himself, his fingers leaving him empty but his lips refuse to break this lock.

It's a painful kiss, it refuses to end and his lips are bruised and numb and burning all at the same time, it's a lifeline, Amarello thinks. Afraid his heart would stop if he ceases, the entire essense of his being he wants to retrieve it and keep it to himself, Homelander wants to leave him with nothing.

If he can’t have him… then he should be left with the same nothingness that encompases his entire existance.

His cock throbs as he looks at those red hungry eyes, as his body shifts beneath him, he can feel himself quench with anticipation, his hips keening chasing after him.

His arms hang on Homelander’s neck as he finally lets go.

Feeling like his soul is on fire, he hitters his last breath before the carnivorous lamb claims his prey.

His body is on fire, underneath him is an inferno, the flames spread from beneath as he moves, seeking to turn everything into a rain of cinder, his inside reshape and burn for him, all of his body had been his, unable to forget him, unable to return to what it once was.

There’s no god or sin in this moment, just his desire… his yearnings… he cries as he refuses to let go, his movements are shallow and deep, it's not quick, he’s savoring his lover like never before, Amarello grows dizzy from those kisses getting drunk in his nectar as Homelander pumps him so slowly.

He moans and grunts against him, Homelander’s hand firm against his lovers nape, his thumb caressing his cheek, Amarello’s eyes glazing over him, thinking about it, it was always dirty and messy, rough and unforgiving, how strange that for the first time it's nothing but tender and slow, even the position its vanilla yet both men feel as if this was the best they ever had, their hands lazily explore each other, imprinting their scents on one another, soft sighs as they both feel the stupor of leftover ecstacy, the older man smiles gently as he feels Homelander finish inside him, his own mess drenching the insignificant space between them.

He’s no longer a moaning mess, but he’s still a mess nevertheless.

Homelander lays by his side, his hand never leaving his exposed skin, his chest jumping up and down and his eyes just dazy, he wants to get closer to give up on the gap he’s had to dig between them.

Both men stared at each other burning this afterimage so when they close their eyes they can still see it.

Neither wants to let go, and in this gap that's wider than the panama canal Homelander breaches the space, forcing his head to rest in the nook under his chin, soaking in the scent of more than peaches, there’s a earthy scent alongside church fumes, beneath it all there’s just shades of himself… he’s his.

“I think this it's the first time we been this naked together?”

Amarello stares at the city behind them, the silk blankets now covering him crinkles as he seeks to cover the Supe.

He gives his comment a thought, always layers of polycarbonate or cotton blend… there was a time where the thought of Homelander touching him, soiling himself with him made him want to jump into an early grave now it didn’t matter… all that hard work had been for naught.

It was nice.

To feel all of him.

“You should let your hair chest grow” He mumbles, kissing the top of his head– I like… I like the way it grows… its swirly”

“Should I get a matching beard?” He strokes his chin with a weary finger, feeling every prickly hair bumping against him– you look real good… you should’ve been a model.”

“I dunno… it was this or a nurse… don’t think am good looking enough not with this nose… not model pretty anyways”

“I think the scrubs would’ve done you a disservice but then again…” He gives him a devilish smile– I would love it if you gave me some medicine.”

“You mean more medicine?” He seems insulted prompting Homelander to force a playful smile.

“Yeah but in that little white skirt instead.” he laughed awkwardly.

“They don’t wear those, actually.” He says.

“Shame.”

“Maybe you can wear it for me…” the priest replies, taking the supe by surprise.

He chuckles lightly, amazed that the priest has dirty jokes in his arsenal.

“I do look good in those ensambles… don’t ask me how I know.”

“I shan’t be curious enough to pry my boy.”

Homelander whines inside as he moves to straddle him, the man looks at him curiously admiring the sight in front of him.

“I want to make this special… you never… you've never done it like a man have you?”

“You know I haven’t…” he licks his lips in anticipation– you… you want me inside you?”

“Just as my goodbye to you… Father… Den… I never called you by your name… always Amarello yet you never called me by mine… just John.”

“It was the collar… like calling your teacher by its first name, feels wrong.” His hand squeezes at Homelander’s thighs– It was after all what I aspired to be for you.”

He foregoes all pretense, ditching all his vows for tonite he’s nothing but a normal man once more.

“John is nice too” He hisses at his touch feeling his chest heat up– dear me… I think you know by now it's you that ought to be merciful with me.”

“That and well… Dennis is such a hot name."He laughs as his hand tickles his softened member– be gentle with me.”

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander x male oc #the boys fanfic #personal #my fic tag #not proofread i'm sorry #officially on hiatus but i could post the next chapter soon

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daisynik7 · 7 months

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Nanami is super into fucking you with his watch on.

He’ll strip himself completely nude except for his wrist, his fingers massaging your puffy clit until you’re whining against him, already on the brink of an orgasm just from that. He checks the minute hand on his watch, taking a mental note on when you first climax. It’s a fun little challenge he sets for himself: how many times can he make you come within fifteen minutes? Half an hour? A full hour? Sometimes, he takes guesses, and most of the time, he’s right. And when he's wrong, it’s because he makes you come more than he expects you to. Tonight is one of those times.

He's relentless with his fingers, stroking your pussy up and down, in and out, coated in your arousal. He loves playing with your swollen bud, flicking it until you’re squirming from overstimulation. The slick that gushes out of you is so pretty, all shiny and glossy for him. So inviting for a taste. But no; he’ll resist until he can make you come once more from his fingers. Get you completely soaked so it’s juicy for his mouth. He knows just how much you love coming with his soft lips puckered around your clit, his tongue lapping at your greedy cunt, gaping and desperate to be filled with his cock. By the time thirty minutes pass, you’ve come twice from his fingers, and thrice from his mouth, eating you out sloppily until your limbs feel shaky, body spent but still so needy for him.

When he finally puts his dick inside you, he uses his watch for another purpose: to edge you so that you can fucking squirt all over him. He pounds into your tight pussy from behind, slamming his hips against your ass, marveling at the way it jiggles with each thrust. You’re moaning from the pleasure, completely fucked out. You want to come again so badly, but he won’t let you. “Not yet,” he growls, turning his wrist to inspect the time. “Be a good girl for ten more minutes, okay? Hold it for me sweetheart. I know you can do it.”

And of course you will, because he’s so encouraging, so sweet, so fucking big inside you, filling you to the brim. When the ten minutes is almost up, he reaches around you, toying with your sensitive clit. You whine, twitching from the sensation, head buried into the pillow, damp with sweat and drool. He leans over you, breath hot on your ear, whispering, “That’s it, honey. Let it all out for me. Make a fucking mess.”

So you do, spraying him in your juices, spilling onto the sheets below you. He absolutely loves it, seeing you so filthy like this. It’s just what he needs to reach his own orgasm, the one he’s been building up since an hour ago, continuously on the brink ever since your first climax. He comes inside you, stuffing you full of his creamy load only to watch it dribble out slowly as soon as he pulls out.

His watch is soaked in your essence, but that’s alright. In fact, it’s exactly what he wanted.

#mdni banner by @/cafekitsune #nanami smut #nanami drabble #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami #HELP #I'm so fucking feral for him #I should be asleep but I'm doing this instead LOL #barely proofread so sorry for any typos or errors

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aroaceleovaldez · 7 months

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reminder that the only reason the "ADHD is actually demigod BATTLE STRATEGIES" and "dyslexia is DEMIGOD BRAINS HARDWIRED FOR ANCIENT GREEK" things exist in the PJO universe is because it's a very direct reference to early 2000s teaching/parenting techniques for neurodiverse and disabled children, which aimed to frame childrens' disabilities and hardships as a "superpower" or strength so that the children would feel more positively about their disabilities or situations. This technique has fallen out of favor since then for the most part since more often than not it just results in kids feeling as though their struggles are not being seen or taken seriously.

Yes, demigods are adhd/dyslexic (and sometimes autistic-coded) in the series. This is extremely important and trying to remove it or not acknowledge it makes the entire series fall apart because it is such a core concept. Yes, canon claims that their adhd/dyslexia is tied to some innate abilities, which is based on an outdated methodology. It's important to acknowledge that and understand where it comes from! But please stop trying to apply it to other pantheons in the series like "oh, the romans have dyscalculia because of roman numerals!" or "the norse demigods have dysgraphia for reasons!" - it's distasteful at best.

A better option is to acknowledge the meta inspiration for why that exists in the series, such as explaining potentially that Chiron was utilizing that same teaching methodology to try and help demigods feel more comfortable with their disabilities and they aren't literal powers. In fact, especially given Frank, there's implication that being adhd/dyslexic isn't a guaranteed demigod trait, which means it's more likely to be normally inherited from their godly parent/divine ancestor as a general trait, not a power, and further supports the whole "ADHD is battle strategy" thing being non-literal. It also implies the entire greco-roman pantheon in their universe is canonically adhd/dyslexic - and that actually fits very well with the themes of the first series. The entire central conflict of the first series fits perfectly as an allegory about neurodiverse/disabled children and their relationships with their undiagnosed neurodiverse/disabled parents and trying to find solutions together with their shared disability/disabilities that the kid inherited instead of becoming distant from each other (and this makes claiming equivalent to getting a diagnosis which is a fascinating allegory! not to mention the symbolism of demigods inheriting legacies and legends and powers from their parents and everything that comes with that being equivalent to inheriting traits, neurodiversity, and disabilities from your parents).

anyways neurodiversity and disability and the contexts in which the series utilizes representation of those experiences particularly during the 2000s symbolically within the narrative is incredibly important to the first series and the understanding of what themes it means to represent. also if i see one more "the romans have dyscalculia instead of dyslexia" post in 2023 i'm gonna walk into the ocean.

#pjo #riordanverse #percy jackson #analysis #meta #adhd #dyslexia #also this symbolism recontextualizes the relationship between demigods and their godly parents so much #particularly Percy and Poseidon and the whole ''I'm sorry you were born thing'' like DAMN that's an ENTIRE DIFFERENT IMPLICATION #honestly in general the first series' meta analogy of being a demigod as symbolism for being neurodiverse/disabled ROCKS SO HARD #that's SO COOL and im SO SAD NOBODY EVER TALKS ABOUT IT #i could write a whole essay on that alone like COME ON GUYS #can we PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE THIS I WANNA TALK ABOUT THE COOL DISABILITY METAPHORS....#anyways i didnt proofread this cause. re: dyslexia so if it doesnt make sense dont worry about it #i can try to explain further in supplementary posts if people so wish

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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months

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Why would you—That's not—I just wanted to ask for help, why did you have to go and make it awkward???

[First] Prev <–-> Next

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #xue yang #Its such a relief to not have to draw so many characters once again.#Redrawing the specific font from the English translated mdzs books was surprisingly fun!#Maybe I'm alone in this...but I think characters switching to a different font of speech for *emphasis* is peak comedy #you can't communicate voice changes of sound very well in non audio forms so this is the best I can do.#Anyways...rip Xue Yang. You finally meet your idol and he brushes you off #Rather— he doesn't live up to the expectations you built in your head #Kind of an on going issue there Jester (I refuse to call him king or sir)#XY is constantly making people out to be the versions he needed them to be to feel justified in his actions #but struggles to pivot when confronted with the fact that these ppl are *more* than just one surface reading!#wwx doesn't actually think xy is flirting. He's just tired of all the fake fans + wants to get out of this convo.#button mashing the A button to skip the unskippable cutscene #Lan Wangji is in the next comic btw. I've missed him dearly. I'm sorry he's been gone so long </3 #edit: poorly spelt MDZS strikes again. This is why I need more time to write my comics. So I can actually proofread B*(#edit2: I cast 'Power of Technology' and fixed my error. Everyone reblog this version instead please

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samwinchesterism · 1 month

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in re: “cas knows dean better than sam”

“cas sees dean as a whole person and sam just sees dean’s façade as his big brother slash parent” but like how and where. outside of your fanfiction. season and episode. scene and line. if it’s so obvious and apparent you should have at least 3-5 concrete examples right? “sam doesn’t know dean carried him out of the burning house” yeah but did cas? outside of a footnote in the angelic manila folder they gave him between seasons 3 and 4 so he could better manipulate him and sam into doing heaven’s bidding? like if you’re going to say “cas knows dean better than sam” than you need to show how cas succeeds where you perceive sam to be failing at the very least. but even your perceptions of how sam doesn’t measure up are so warped, blinkered, and moronic that it wouldn’t even be worth much if you could provide the textual evidence, but at least you’d have a semblance of a point. like say anything without going “as an eldest daughter…” “well my relationship with my sibling isn’t…” please say anything without fucking projecting your own self-pitying crybaby bullshit onto your little woobie dean and using the actual canon text of the show. I’m literally begging you.

like the thing of it all is and always has been that you’re so hell-bent on twisting the sam and dean relationship to fit into this narrow and almost entirely inaccurate mold which is the basis upon which you build the entire Destiel Mythos that you literally lose all sense of media literacy. you don’t even miss the forest for the trees, you miss the trees for like, the pretend invisible things you’re seeing in between the trees, the forest is a whole long way away from your current level of perception. because the Destiel Mythos is based entirely on the fact that dean is Not Seen and Not Appreciated and Not Loved and Cannot Be Himself until cas comes along, and that Family (read: sam) Is Only A Burden on Him That He Must Be Freed From In Order to Flourish, so you keep trying to warp the sam relationship into something that is only one dimension of it – and keep ignoring the ways in which dean is seen, loved and understood within it, because you need to keep lying to yourselves that there is a narrative need to emancipate dean from something that he has never wanted emancipation from because it is ultimately a net good for dean in the particular circumstances of their lives. it’s also profoundly unhealthy, codependent, evil and toxic etc. (a lot more dean’s fault than sam’s but I will nawt be getting into all that right now) but that doesn’t change the fact that sam and dean both know and understand and feel deeply that they are each other’s person – that they know the best and love the most in the world. but that – which IS true canon fact – is incompatible with the Destiel Mythos so it must be ignored and all good sense must be thrown out the window in order to do it.

anyway i digress there are two main categories of Bad Thinking that i will be addressing below

childhood/ “parent/child” / blah blah blah

every single thing people are saying in favour of the deeply stupid thesis in the title of this post is proof positive of the very silly form of ‘analysis’ I just described. a few things:

“wah sam didn’t know that dean carried him out of the burning house :( this means that dean withholds things from sam to protect him because he is a PARENT and sam can only know things about him in the context of him being a PARENT to him” – what the fuck are you on about genuinely. first of all reducing the sam/dean relationship exclusively to parent/child is in itself foolishness for so many reasons that I don’t have time for right now. but also, it’s clear that this is just something that happened when sam was a baby that just never came up. in the scene (1.09) where this is brought up, dean is mildly surprised that he or john never mentioned that detail and then states that sam knows the rest of the story (i.e. the actual traumatic stuff) just as well as dean does – which is true, demonstrably whenever they talk about it.

obviously there are some things that happened to dean in their childhood that sam doesn’t know about (or didn’t know about, until told in whatever episode they come up in). equally, there are things dean doesn’t know about sam’s childhood, e.g. the fact that he was so lonely he needed a zanna (11.08). or how dean didn’t remember that sam was friends with barry cook until he mentions it when they go back to their old school (4.13). or about the nature of sam’s relationship with amy pond (7.03). these don’t mean that ‘sam withheld these things to protect dean out of parental love’ lol, it’s just that there are details and events in each of their lives that the other happens to not have been told about.

similarly “sam didn’t even know dean wanted to be a firefighter L” girl did dean know sam wanted to be a lawyer? in 1.01 he’s pretty surprised that sam has a law school interview. the point here isn’t “neither sam nor dean know each other well,” these are minutiae that aren’t relevant to how well you know someone as a whole, and very poorly demonstrate the bad and inaccurate point that dean withholds things from sam the way a parent does a child (on a constant or regular basis). obviously the way they were raised, sam was deemed too young to know about certain things until he got older and dean had to keep that secret, but as shown in 3.08 flashbacks, most if not all of this is eventually revealed throughout their childhood when sam is still fairly young.

or possibly the dumbest one is that “wah sam doesn’t even know that dean reads books L” whenever that was he was also obviously joking because in more serious moments (e.g. 8.14) he admits that dean is smart/a better researcher than he is, literally remembers dean reading to him as a kid (8.21) so like. clam down

one of the extra annoying variants of this type of ‘proof’ covers things that are very clearly novel pieces of information about dean that dean, sam, and the audience are learning about dean in real time. like if you’re actually watching the show to comprehend it as it was intended to be comprehended, instead of funnelling everything through the Destiel Machine until it’s unrecognizable slop that fits neatly into your pre-ordained molds that Make Destiel Necessary In the Narrative (when it actually isn’t, at all) it’s abundantly clear. the top two worst offenders:

“sam didn’t even know that dean is good with kids :( he doesn’t even realize that dean raised him :(” first of all you people need to understand that parentification does not literally create a parent-child dynamic between siblings but I digress – this doesn’t make any sense bro. in 1.03 dean admits he doesn’t know any kids as an adult. dean being good with his own kid brother when they were both kids is to any reasonable person not necessarily linked with him being good with other random kids when he’s an adult. in 1.03 it’s clear that dean himself is a bit surprised that he’s able to connect w/ lucas so well because he’s clearly not dealt with a lot of kids since sam grew up. the whole point of this is that dean, sam, and the audience are all sort of seeing a new side of dean. who again is just 26. after this very early episode, there’s no question from sam that dean is able to connect w kids. sam being a bit surprised by this also has absolutely zero connection with him not understanding or realizing that dean looked out for him when they were both kids – sam is standing there at 22 years of age talking about adult dean and children – of fucking course he doesn’t mean himself are you stupid.

from the very first season, sam is very clearly aware of everything dean ~did for him~ when they were kids, see e.g. 1.21: “Dean...ah...I wanna thank you. […] For everything. You've always had my back you know? Even when I couldn't count on anyone I could always count on you. And I don't know, I just wanted to let you know, just in case.”

and 1.06: DEAN: Well, I’m a freak, too. I’m right there with ya, all the way. (SAM laughs.) SAM: Yeah, I know you are.

and then possibly even more stupidly, the one where it’s like “wah sam doesn’t even know dean can cook :( he doesn’t even know that DEAN was the one making him food as a babe in arms :(” – when sam is surprised that dean made something fairly gourmet and from scratch literally the first time they have ever had a permanent living space with a functional kitchen. in this VERY scene (8.14), dean himself points out that they haven’t had a kitchen before and when sam remarks on the irregularity of him doing serious cooking, he says “I’m nesting”, clearly showing that this is a novel development because they now have a kitchen, and that it’s irregular relative to past behaviour – both of them acknowledge this. because real proper in-depth cooking and making box mac and cheese for sam until he was like 11 and old enough to be left alone are two different things, which sam understands because he’s smart, unlike whoever chooses to make this point. dean never showed significant signs of liking to cook before this, which is what the exchange is about, but he did have to prepare food for them both when sam was too young – of course sam knows he had to, there are childhood memories referred to (e.g. 14.11) where sam is mentioned to literally help dean do the cooking as kids lol (and yes, genius, sam says ‘I didn’t know you knew what a kitchen was’ or something to that effect, but if you think he’s being 100% literal there I have an oceanfront property in Kansas to sell you)

again, obviously there are pieces that sam doesn’t know about dean, e.g. when he’s talking about his response to mary dying in 1.03. but again, Sam is 22, dean is 26, the last time they were in regular contact was when sam was 18-20, these are things that happen when people grow up, they’re able to reflect and share on childhood experiences if they’re close with their siblings as adults. it’s clearly not something that 26 y/o dean wanted to hide from 22 y/o sam. yes sam didn’t know everything about how dean felt when they were young, but that’s equally true in the other direction, and it’s such an irrelevant point in this discussion when, crucially, sam does learn these things about dean mostly fairly early on in the series (i.e. when they’re really not that deep into adulthood yet). cas was also not magically blessed w/ knowledge about dean, he also had to learn whatever it is that he knows, but somehow sam has to know everything about dean from age 7 or it doesn’t count when it’s sam lol.

“sam doesn’t know the One True Dean / doesn’t see through his facades”

the next branch of defending this flawed thesis is invariably that sam has little idea of the fronts and facades that dean puts up and is content to just believe them, whereas cas digs deep and sees the One True Dean that stupid sam always misses. there is nothing in the text that demonstrates this is true. multiple times, we see sam being very knowing of the fact that dean puts up fronts and facades. sam is also knowledgeable of the way dean perceives himself, and – demonstrated in multiple episodes before such sam lines were very poorly recycled and regurgitated into cas’s dialogue in 15.18, but keep acting like that was the first time anyone ever showed that they knew the One True Dean.

Obviously there are times where sam teases dean when he’s being more touchy-feely than usual, but 9.99 times out of 10 (as a conservative estimate in case there's something i'm forgetting otherwise i would say every time) that’s very clearly coming from a place of knowing the real dean vs. the façade he puts up because that’s the whole joke. and it’s allowed to be a joke because they’re siblings and that’s what siblings do lol. esp since sam and dean have touchy feely moments at the end of like every episode.

examples of all of the above off the top of my head (there are more than these, but these are the ones I can think of):

2.02 (about John’s death)

Sam: “I mean this ‘strong silent’ thing of yours, it's crap. […] I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man.”

Dean: “You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to.”

Sam: “No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man. Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay.”

2.03 (Sam to Dean, also about John’s death): “You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it. Because I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory.”

Note that Dean essentially admits that Sam is right in these two instances in 2.04 bc I know yall have stupid shit to say about john too that has nothing to do with how anyone actually felt about him in canon

3.07 (about Dean’s demon deal – also proven true in later episodes)

SAM: Dude, drop the attitude, Dean. Quit turning everything into a punch line. And you know something else? Stop trying to act like you're not afraid.

DEAN: I'm not!

SAM: You're lying. And you may as well drop it 'cause I can see right through you.

DEAN: You got no idea what you're talking about.

SAM: Yeah, I do. You're scared, Dean. You're scared because your year is running out, and you're still going to Hell, and you're freaked.

DEAN: And how do you know that?

SAM: Because I know you! […] Yeah, I've been following you around my entire life! I mean, I've been looking up to you since I was four, Dean. Studying you, trying to be just like my big brother. So yeah, I know you. Better than anyone else in the entire world. And this is exactly how you act when you're terrified. And, I mean, I can't blame you. It's just […] I wish you would drop the show and be my brother again. 'Cause... (can't find words; tears in his eyes) just 'cause.

5.18 [Sam figures out what Dean is doing re: his plan to let Michael possess him, tracks him down, and eventually is the catalyst for Dean ‘making the right call’, which he predicts] – e.g.:

SAM: No, you won’t. When push shoves, you’ll make the right call

DEAN: You know, if tables were turned…I’d let you rot in here. Hell, I have let you rot in here.

SAM: Yeah, well…I guess I’m not that smart.

DEAN: I—I don’t get it. Sam, why are you doing this?

SAM: Because… you’re still my big brother.

8.14 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18 + sam intrinsically understanding the trials are a death wish for dean): “I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it. […] I AM smart, and so are you. You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius – when it comes to lore, to – you're the best damn hunter I have ever seen – better than me, better than dad. I believe in you, Dean. So, please – please believe in me, too.”

10.22 (understanding how much dean has ~done for him~)

SAM: I'm saving my brother.

CASTIEL: You told Dean—

SAM: —I know what I told Dean. Cas, look. I've been the one out there, messed up and scared. And alone. And Dean—

CASTIEL: He did whatever he could to save you.

SAM: Yes. I mean, it's become his thing. I owe him this. I owe him everything.

10.23 (basically the o.g. version of whatever went on in 15.18, x2 – from Sam to Dean): “You were also willing to summon death to make sure you could never do any more harm. You summoned me because you knew I would do anything to protect you. That's not evil, Dean. That's not an evil man. That is a good man crying to be heard, searching for... some other way. […] You will never, ever hear me say that you -- the real you -- is anything but good.”

11.13 (Sam understanding exactly how Dean feels about Amara being his ‘deepest desire’, and confirming that it doesn’t make him a bad person)

Dean: Why? Because if she is that means that I’m…

Sam: Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?

Dean: For starters, yeah.

Sam: Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you…I’m not.

Dean: You know that I want her ass dead.

Sam: Yes. Of course. And I know you’ve also probably beaten yourself up a hundred times over it, but where has that gotten us? (Long silence) Just how bad is it?

13.02 (Sam perfectly explaining Dean’s psyche to Jack)

JACK: Is that why Dean hates me?

SAM: Dean doesn’t hate you. It… Look, sometimes the wires in Dean’s head get crossed and—and he gets frustrated, and then he mixes frustration with anger, and—and fear.

JACK: Why would he be afraid?

SAM: Because Dean feels like it’s his job to protect everyone. And right now, we need to protect you. But we may also need to protect people from you.

14.03 [Sam assesses Dean’s psychological/emotional response to the Michael possession; end of episode, Dean confirms that Sam’s assessment was fully accurate]

14.10 [Sam is the only one able to snap Dean out of his weird Michael mind loop by using their code word]

14.11 [Sam figuring out that something is troubling Dean just based on the fact that Dean hugs him]

15.17 (self explanatory at this point)

DEAN: Chuck has to die. He has to! Otherwise he'll keep us tap dancing forever, and I can't live like that, man! I can't live like that! I won't!

SAM: I know you feel like that right now, okay. I know you do. But you gotta trust me. My entire life, you've protected me— from Dad, from Lucifer, from everything. I didn't always like it, you know, but... it's the one thing in the whole world that I could always count on. It's the only thing I've ever known that was true. So please... put the gun away. Just put it away, and we'll figure it out, Dean, we'll find another way, you and me. We always do.

like maybe there are some cas moments w dean along these lines too. i don't know, i don't remember what the guy says or does anymore it's been too many years and he is not memorable. but the point is where and in what capacity and based on what metric other than the amount of bad fanfic you've read does cas exceed sam in these respects.

so basically just. genuinely, what are you people literally ever talking about. go watch the show instead of saying stupid wrong stuff about sam on the hellsites all day. or watch another show (please for the love of god watch any other show this one is absolutely lost on you and it’s such a stupid one too i'm embarrassed for you)

#sorry i wasnt gonna be able to sleep otherwise my blood pressure got too high #sam winchester meta #sam winchester #anti destiel #sam and dean #whatever else my tags are #haven't done this in a minute #i'm sorry for being a cunty sam stan (tm) in this but have you considered we'd be nicer if you ppl were less dumb #this is not proofread it's not real meta

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 7 months

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Not sure if you've closed or open requests but

How do you feel about writing a Yan! Slime? Could be platonic or romantic up to you! Idk slimes are cute :3

(also I'm permanently gonna low key stalk ur blog since again yummy yan fics hope you don't mind me staying- /hj)

CW: Wholesome, romantic, stalker monster love ahead ❤️ proceed with caution❤️

Accidently pushed post whoops done now lol

The five year old boy burst through the bushes, tumbling awkwardly and unskillfully before slowly popping up onto his feet and swinging his stick sword forward. His sibling, (Reader), high stepped carefully over the branches of the bush their brother had just crashed through. (Reader) nervously held their own sword, following their older brother into the woods.

"Jay, can we please go back?" (Reader) whined, trying not to cry nervously as they "explored" deeper into the forest.

"Don't be a baby!" Jay chastised, raising his arms high above his head. "How are you gonna be a monster hunter if you're too chicken?!"

(Reader) grumbled, dragging their shoes in the dirt. "I don't wanna be a monster hunter.. I wanna go home! I'm hungry!"

Jay opened his mouth, and raised his fists, ready to say something when something moved nearby, plopping loudly into a pile of dry leaves. His big, childish eyes went wide with fear, immediately losing all confidence and hiding behind (Reader), holding his thin stick in front of his face defensively. He was too scared to speak, trembling into (Reader's) back.

The younger of the two felt a surge of strength, needing to protect their beloved big brother, so they gripped their weapon with both hands, scrunching up their chubby little face to appear tough. They stomped over to the bush the sound came from, holding their breath, unlike Jay who was hyperventilating. (Reader) removed one pudgy hand from their stick, and swiftly pushed back the little branches, exposing a tiny green blob.

Jay released a high pitched scream and took off running back home, dropping his stick.

The glob was vibrating, and (Reader) was instantly filled with sympathy, assuming the little ball of goo was shaking with fear. "Hey, don't be scared." The four year old cooed, dropping their 'sword' and sitting on their knees to be closer. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a monster." (Reader's) cheesy grin showed off their missing front teeth.

Whatever the green thing was slowly went still, and (Reader) could feel it looking up at them.

"My name is (Reader), and I'm," they looked at their fingers, focusing on holding up the right number, before practically shoving their fingers in the glob's personal space, "four years old!"

The goo reached forward, forming a little nub of a hand, touching (Reader's) fingers. It was surprisingly warm. (Reader) opened their hand so it could roll onto their palm.

"Burrrrble!" The thing happily gurgled, looking quite pleased despite it's lack of a face.

"Burble? Is that your name?"

"Prrrr?" It patted their hand, not understanding the question. (Reader) laughed, feeling ticklish.

"I'm gonna be your best friend!" They decided, cupping the slime with both hands, still giggling over the sticky tingling the little guy caused. "I'll visit you every day, and we can play together everyday after school!"

And (Reader) kept their promise, visiting every single day, for years. The two friends grew up together, Burble learning to speak (Reader's) language over time as (Reader) brought their homework into the woods to have more time with Burble while they studied. Jay kept Burble's existence a secret, but never got over his fear of the creature, so he kept his distance from the two while they played.

Burble had a difficult time not praising (Reader) for their heroics, because if they did it would reveal that Burble had been watching them at school. Living alone in the woods was isolating, especially as a monster, their presence frightening off animals of all species. At first it was just because of how lonely they were, wanting to leave the forest to be with (Reader). They turned Burble down, reminding them how dangerous it would be, now no longer the naive child who didn't understand that slimes were monsters. But, no one would know if Burble attached just a little piece of themselves inside (Reader's) backpack, just to hear their voice while they were away.

Fourteen years later, Burble had been practicing in secret, forming their naturally round body into a humanoid form, trying to perfect their appearance before they revealed themselves to (Reader). It happened so naturally, Burble falling in love with their one and only friend. They wondered if (Reader) could ever feel the same. (Reader) was just so perfect; they were kind and strong, preferring pacifism, but quick to throw themselves in danger's way to protect the ones they love, just like when they first met. Even at school, (Reader) would stand up for those being bullied on a regular basis, gaining a reputation for standing up for those too scared to protect themselves. And they never bragged about it!

The green slime learned so much about (Reader) through the way they interacted with others at school, and fell deeper in love everytime they opened their mouth. (Reader) was an angel on Earth.

(Reader) trudged into the forest behind their home, exhausted after field hockey but refusing to take even a day off from visiting their best friend. It was surprising, learning that Burble was less of a pet and actually a sentient being with thoughts and feelings, but that was even more exciting, being able to communicate with a species not known for their intelligence. Burble rolled onto view, now a very large blob the size of (Reader) if they tucked in their arms and legs.

"(Reader)!" They happily gurgled, jiggling up to the high school senior. "How was your day?"

"Same old, same old." (Reader) lied, still wearing their gym shirt because their original clothes got soaked with milk after they stood up to Cody, the biggest dick they ever met.

Burble knew this, however, and was fine with (Reader) lying, knowing they were just being humble. It made their non-existent heart swell. (Reader) pulled out a bunch of classwork, and a brochure slipped out from a folder. "What's that?"

"Oh, that's a pamphlet for a university. Admissions are coming up, so I've been looking around."

The green color lightened almost to a sick looking yellow. Burble hadn't heard anything about this! What did they mean?!

"Burble, you okay?"

"Does that mean you're leaving?" Burble's voice shook, wobbling their jelly body.

"Yeah, if I make it in, but that's still half a year away, so we have time-"

Burble cut them off. "Don't go."

(Reader) sighed, placing a hand on top of their friend's smooth body. "I can't stay with my parents forever. I want to go explore, meet new people, hopefully get a career a have a passion for."

"Then take me with you!" Burble shouted, heating up under (Reader's) hand, the yellow intensifying.

The now yellow blob lunged at (Reader), morphing into a humanesque shape, creating a beautiful face that looked to be on the verge of tears. Burble held (Reader) to the ground, trapping (Reader's) body with their arms and knees.

"Burble, what the hell?" (Reader) wasn't angry, or nervous, just confused, not understanding what had gotten into their childhood friend.

"You can't leave me alone, (Reader), please!" Burble was incapable of forming tears, but their body ached like they were sobbing, rumbling instead of heaving as they didn't need to breathe. They slammed their face onto (Reader's), knowing what kissing was from a picture book (Reader) had shown them as a child, but not quite understanding how to actually do it. Their newly formed lips moved against (Reader's) timidly, easily holding down the struggling human. Burble broke the kiss so (Reader) could gasp for air. "I love you, (Reader), please don't leave me!"

A hurricane of emotions ripped (Reader's) mind apart, struggling with accepting what was happening. Their first kiss was taken by their best friend, who was still holding them tightly against the dirt ground.

"Let's.. let's talk about this later.. I need to go home." (Reader) stuttered, overwhelmed by the emotions they never felt before rampaging in their skull. Burble sunk lower, melting over (Reader's) body to better prevent their leaving.

"No.. not until you promise not to leave me." Their voice was barely a whisper, begging for (Reader) to love them back.

"I-I won't leave you. We'll figure something out.. You've just gotten too big to hide and-" Burble's weight was heavy on (Reader's) ribcage. "we'll figure something out."

Satisfied, Burble sat up and rolled off of (Reader), slowly changing back to their natural green hue. "You promise?"

"I promise." (Reader) face a sad smile, still incapable of fearing their dear friend.

Burble smiled, barely maintaining their shape as they allowed (Reader) to leave. They trusted (Reader), even if (Reader) didn't accept their confession at that moment, there was no way they would break their promise. And, if for some reason they did, if someone like their nervous brother fear mongered (Reader) into abandoning Burble, they would always be able to find them. The green slime collapsed back into a ball, happily listening to (Reader) through the tiny piece of themselves still hiding in (Reader's) backpack.

"Please come back soon.."

#soft yandere #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere slime #accidentally posted this early instead of saving it as a draft #whoops #i'm just really stupid lol #so sorry #not proofread #i hope you like it #again i'm so sorry #i'm really dumb

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queerfanfiction · 9 months

Note

Could you write a fluffy smut where reader has mummy issues who cancelled on her for taking her bra shopping and Larissa offered to go with her and helps her pick out the perfect set but then it ends with smut idk you chose :)

Mummy Issues

Prompt is shown above. :)

word count: 3.6k includes: mommy issues, public-ish sex, discussion of trauma, fingering, fluff, mommy kink, praise kink

Your therapist is actually the one who suggested you ask your mom to go shopping with you to find a bra set for an upcoming performance. You’re not saying this specific reparenting technique doesn’t work, but there was no way in hell your mother was going to follow through. Still, you tried anyway. You were vulnerable anyway.

You’re exhausted from parenting your own parent, always considering other’s needs before your own. Fresh out of university and you still have never had anyone else take care of you for a change. The shopping idea was intended to be a low-stakes role reversal where your mom would step up to the task at hand.

Earlier that morning you texted your mom to confirm the meet up in Burlington. You never heard back, which wasn’t uncommon. Since you were coming all the way from Montreal, though, you expected some sort of acknowledgement. You even texted her as you were driving over to no avail. Downtown Burlington was not where you would have picked to shop if your mother was not involved. It was close to where she lived, and she loved the hustle and bustle of Church Street. To you it always seemed like a hot mess. Now you were in the middle of that mess alone.

After waiting in your car for 15 minutes, it doesn’t take a genius to know you got stood up once again. You contemplated just driving back right then and there. This wasn’t exactly something you wanted to do alone, yet none of your friends are in the area any longer. They all had moved away. Overwhelmed by the sheer fuckery of nothing ever working out, you were frustrated and tired. You consider breaking down into tears over the wasted trip and the years of parental neglect represented by this one instance.

The only person who you can think of still in the area is Ms. Weems. You suppose it’s Principal Weems now (thank you social media for that one). Is it weird to invite a former teacher you once had a massive crush on to go shopping? It’s been so long that it would be nice to catch up. You’re not going to lie, you were yearning to see the older woman. Impulsively, you dial the number she gave you for emergencies back when you attended Nevermore. To your surprise, a firm but sweet voice answers—the same voice that you’d fantasize about in your dorm when your roommate was out. You try to control your voice, but too many conflicting emotions make you croak and sniffle a bit when identifying yourself.

“My dear, is everything alright? And, please, it’s Larissa.” A tone of worry was inflected back to you by the other woman.

In an attempt to dodge the question about your wellbeing, you respond, “I’m actually back in Burlington, trying to find an outfit for an upcoming performance. Any chance you’re free?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as you could.

Larissa returned with, “Oh, I don’t wish to intrude, but it was very kind of you to think of me.” Shit, apparently too nonchalant…

You reflect on all the times Larissa had comforted you back at Nevermore. She was protective of all her students, but it truly meant the world to you. You had always thought it was just another day, another student problem for her. There were many times you were neglected or mistreated by your mother that Larissa was privy to back then. Knowing this, as a Hail Mary, you softly let slip out, “I was supposed to meet my mom…”

Without missing a beat, Larissa’s voice turned tight, “Where are you?” You glance at the cross streets, give her your location, and let her know the specific store you’re at. She concludes, “I’ll be there in 20 minutes, love.”

Your heart flutters at the familiar pet name.

—

You’re already occupying the changing room when Larissa arrives. She calls out for you, and you crack open the door to let her into the small fitting area.

You are met with the most comforting hug. Larissa stroked your hair and squeezed you tightly. The last time an embrace has felt so all-encompassing was also from Larissa, which is a bit embarrassing. You guess you just don’t have a lot of good huggers in your life, and it felt so nice to be held close by someone. You breathe out a long sigh, as if all your troubles are muted by the closeness of the woman in front of you. Her scent replaces the air in your lungs, and you consider how nice it would be to never end this embrace.

When she pulls back and sees that your eyes are slightly red and puffy, she bends down towards you to cup your face with both of her hands. All that comes out of her mouth is “Oh, sweetie.” You give her a half-hearted smile in response. Her hands immediately begin stroking your face, brushing hair from your eyes, and occasionally resting her thumb and index finger at your chin. This. This is what being cared for is; the realization hits you and radiates out through your body.

“I’m here for whatever you need. Would you like to debrief about your mother? Or carry on with what’s needed here?” Larissa gestures to the garments in the fitting room without taking her eyes off of you.

Noticing how close she still is to your face makes your head dizzy, and you stutter, “I-I need s-something to wear under a strapless dress that won’t show during a piano performance.”

Reassuringly, Larissa states, “We can do that. You know I have an eye for those sorts of things. We’ll have you sorted in no time.” She then moves her hands to your upper arms and rubs them before turning to examine the items already set out.

“Piano? It’s no wonder. You always played brilliantly at Nevermore,” Larissa continued elatedly, brandishing a supportive smile. You think back to times when you’d be practicing in Nevermore’s music auditorium alone and feel a comforting presence at the back of the concert hall near the doors. You always assumed it was your imagination, not daring to get your hopes up that someone cared enough to support you or cheer you on. Your mother made sure of that…

You feel so much more at ease with Larissa here. Now that you think about it, she has always provided stability and nurtured you. You remember that she would sometimes give you rides to Jericho when the only Nevermore vehicle at the time was in use. You credit a lot of your success with the piano to her too, because she would encourage you to do open mics at the Weathervane and signed you up to play at a parade that Jericho had every couple of years.

Yes, you felt indebted to the tall, gorgeous woman before you. The years since you’ve seen her have only emphasized her beauty. Her demeanor is both commanding and protective. It’s as if she is more comfortable in her skin than before; there is a sureness in her stance that is nice to see and that you wish you had. Even though you always considered her fashionable, her clothes now exude a kind of pride and carefully crafted style. Larissa’s perfectly-coiffed updo accentuates the smooth, supple skin of her neck before disappearing beneath her expertly tailored dress.

These thoughts invoke a light blush from your cheeks, and you know you can’t speak about your crush on her in the past tense. Your immediate dry mouth while watching her is proof that it never went away. Now you’re wondering if you shouldn’t have sought her out to assist in purchasing the perfect underwear, especially because you see her turn towards the garments and an emotion flashes across her face when she realizes the kinds of items you’ve picked out and need assistance with.

You’ve always liked the idea of dressing up underneath your formal outfit. To you, it made it feel more special, gave you extra confidence. For instance, knowing a sexy lace set was underneath your clothes made you feel as if you had a fun secret. Though, you realize it’s probably inappropriate to expect Larissa to help with this. If she felt uncomfortable, she was hiding it well. You tried to continue on as if everything was normal, even though doing so felt impossible.

When Larissa sits on the small ledge provided in the dressing room, you emphasize, “Thank you again for coming. I just drove from where I am now in Montreal.”

Realizing you should continue trying items on, you reach to unbutton your shirt when you hear, “You poor thing! Have you eaten?”

At this, you scrunch your face and shake off your blouse. “I’ll get something after this.” So many conflicting emotions swirl inside of you. You’re conflicted at whether to relish in the desperately needed maternal care or to shrug it off as a defense mechanism.

You begin to unhook a bra from its hanger and feel like you should ask, “Do you mind?” Larissa interprets that you’d like to change from your bra into the new one, waving her hand dismissively and saying, “Go ahead” in a delicate manner.

Without looking too awkward and challenged, you attempt to put on the new bra while taking your current bra off in quick succession. It would have worked if the one you were trying on actually fit you. You had a hard time getting it on, and once you did, your breasts spill out of the top half, giving you the illusion of having four boobs. With you panting from the endeavor, you and Larissa begin to laugh at how silly it looks. You’re surprised that you’re not mortified, but instead having fun.

With some of your own tension released, you turn away from Larissa and towards the mirror to decide if you like the bra enough to go up a cup size. As you do this, what you don’t see is Larissa’s curious gaze, as if she is wishing she could reach out and touch the pillowy softness of your breasts.

“So, this one is NOT it.” Your playful declaration pulls Larissa from her lustful thoughts. It’s short-lived, though, since you immediately begin to try on more items. This time you choose a deep maroon matching set, and you turn slightly away from Larissa in order to pull up the bottoms over your current underwear. Because of the limited space in the room, your ass accidentally winds up in Larissa’s face. As if it is all in your head, you pretend the enclosed space is not rife with sexual tension.

“That’s gorgeous,” Larissa coos moments later with her hand reaching out. With both hands, she rubs along the intricate lace detail at your hip bones, and it feels as if your skin is set ablaze. You fight the urge for your breath to turn heavy and wanting.

Even if all of the tension is in your head and one-sided, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ll need to stop trying things on soon. Well, at least stop trying on bottoms, because you can feel yourself getting wet under Larissa’s stares and encouragement.

“That fits you so very well.” “I love this on you.” “It looks absolutely spectacular.” “You look stunning.”

Not to mention Larissa has taken a hands-on approach to her support. After briefly touching your hips, she began dragging her long fingers along bits of your exposed skin when she was discussing an area. There’s no way she doesn’t notice the goosebumps that arise each time her touch lingers. At least being half naked in the chilly changing room is an excuse for the tight buds of your nipples.

The juxtaposition between this experience and what your mother would have had in store for you is dizzying. No doubt she would have critiqued your strong shoulders or the cellulite on your thighs. It would have ended in a fight, you just know it. However, everything out of Larissa’s mouth was refreshing and electrifying. Maybe even healing at times?

The final set you had picked out was a delicate mesh thong bodysuit that was almost entirely see-through. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should you stop trying things on. Larissa must have noticed, because she uncrossed and crossed her legs a few times before voicing, “Go on, honey.”

Embracing the process sheepishly, you slip into the item and turn away from Larissa to look at yourself. You study the outline of your breasts in the mirror, trying to determine if the subtle texture of the mesh would be noticeable under your dress. Or would the distance between the stage and the seats obscure the texture?

You then see that Larissa seems to be studying them too, except her eyelids are hooded and her pupils are dilated. Almost in slow motion you watch her involuntarily lick her lips. Your heart beats quicker, a flash of heat moves through your body, and you suppress a low moan.

Your eyes meet Larissa’s in the mirror.

You couldn’t say who initiated what next. Only that you were on Larissa’s lap, straddling her, while her hands were on you, roaming over your body and settling on your hips. Your mouths are working in tandem with each other, and you welcome her red lipstick staining your lips and neck. Your hands go to Larissa’s face—one cupping it possessively and the other slinking back to grip the nape of her neck. You want desperately to wreck her perfect hair, turning it into physical evidence of your connection and closeness.

Both you and Larissa can feel the heated energy building between you as you frantically attempt to take off the mesh bodysuit. Before you can, though, Larissa steadies your hands and inquires breathlessly, “Is this okay, darling?” Her eyes search your own, and you can make out desire and worry in her eyes.

You have to take a moment to let what she is asking sink in. This feels like such a natural (if not slightly expedited) progression of your feelings for Larissa. You wonder if there is more underlying her question. You know you two will have to debrief your feelings but right now the hormones raging through your body make it hard to focus too much on the worry or questions around if this should be happening. Instead, your body wiggles on top of hers, begging to continue the friction of your hips against her. You involuntarily whine and nod. “I want this, Larissa.”

Seeing your need and the sureness in your gaze, Larissa regains her composure and utters, “Shh, let me take care of you.”

—

Larissa rivals your intensity with her own fierce need. Her kisses are passionate yet soft. Her hands are gentle but unyielding in how they explore your body once the mesh bodysuit is off. With her every caress and tender nip over your skin, you feel so wholly wanted, cared for, and desired. A fire underlies Larissa’s behavior, as if each touch begets more longing and thirst for you. At the same time, you couldn’t have anticipated the fervent need you had to be validated and devoured by this woman.

Once she has marked your neck with her lipstick and teeth, Larissa moves downward to take one of your fleshy, beaded nipples in her mouth. Barely audible to you, she breathes out, “Absolutely beautiful” before flicking it with her tongue and causing you to arch your back.

One of Larissa’s hands runs over your thighs, teasing you and drawing circles and zigzags on your delicate skin. You can’t help but whimper in need every single time her fingers get closer to where your thighs meet. After almost resigning to her pace and authority, she trails up to cup your arousal. Your legs twitch with the sudden contact, and you emit a gasp.

“You’re so wet for me.” Pleased, Larissa enunciates every word, drawing the words out and reveling in how at her mercy you are. “It’s intoxicating.”

Unable to withstand not taking action, you press your lips against hers roughly, trying to close any distance between your bodies. Breathless after many kisses, you move to suck on her neck and whisper, “Larissa.”

“Please.”

Only after this plea does Larissa finally dip a finger into you. It doesn’t feel like nearly enough. You would usually appreciate a sexual partner pacing themselves, but the need for her to fill you is overpowering. You wriggle your hips back and forth impatiently and breathlessly request, “More.”

Larissa delighted in your clear hunger for her, fully intending to give you everything you want. She eases in another finger past her second knuckle before adding a third finger once she realizes how slick and open you are for her. You unintentionally bite down on her shoulder, not expecting to get what you want without more begging.

You couldn’t have imagined how good her fingers feel inside you. And you absolutely had imagined it. You remember pretending your fingers were hers after late nights riding back with her from Jericho. Or the time she gave you her coat on a chilly night and forgot to get it back, so you ended up masterbating to her scent surrounding you. Okay, you’re not super proud of that one, but at the time it felt world-changing the desire you had. Her fingers working inside of you now are of a different caliber. In fact, you never understood the metaphor of sex as worship or religion, but being on top of Larissa with her half-lidded eyes roaming your body changes things. You want to make her feel a sliver of how good you do right now.

Your hands begin to grab at the fabric of her top, desperate to remove her clothing and pleasure her as she is inside of you. Larissa lets out a low, throaty chuckle before asserting, “Ah, ah, ah. I want to focus on you, love. Let me please you.”

Her interjection just makes your heart swell more for her, and noticeably your noise level swells, as well. You’re not used to undivided attention and care—someone wanting your happiness above all else. It’s more erotic than you could have ever anticipated. At the increase in breathiness and moans, one of Larissa’s hands clamps over your mouth while the other continues to pump in and out of you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the reflection in the dressing room mirror of you riding her long fingers completely nude while she is fully clothed. The sight makes your knees weaker, and you groan, “Oh, fuck.”

Larissa’s whispers and affirmations throughout only brought you closer and closer to release. She has to know how her words are affecting you. Her hot breath over and over in your ear, inching you towards the edge.

“I’ve got you, sweetie.” “I’ll give you anything you want.” “Shh, stay quiet for me.” “That’s a good girl.”

You feel yourself tighten around Larissa’s fingers, becoming more breathless and spacey as she presses the pads of her curled fingers inside you toward your pelvic bone, urging you to come undone. So, you do. Your entire body tenses, and you feel as if you will crumble under the anticipation and pressure. Tingles shoot down your arms and legs in waves, threatening overstimulation.

Larissa’s fingers still, and she presses you close to her, clutching you tightly. After a moment of your eyes being closed and your breathing slowly relaxing, Larissa asks you to bear down with your pelvic floor muscles. Confused, you obey. She gingerly removes her fingers from inside you, and your body aches at the loss. She proceeds to lean forward with you still on her lap, wrapping her arms around you and begins to rock you.

“You did so well, my love,” Larissa murmurs while stroking your hair away from your damp forehead. “You were so good for me.”

You can’t remember the last time someone was so attentive and sweet with you after sex—if ever. You also have never felt like an exposed live wire due to euphoria either, so… Her thoughtfulness makes your heart swell, and you’re hoping it’s not just due to the hormones flooding your body right now. As if you can’t contain the disbelief and gratefulness, you blurt in awe, “How are you real?”

Larissa pulls away from the embrace, searching your eyes for understanding. “I ask myself the same question about you.” At that, you rest your forehead against Larissa’s, exhausted and happy.

After sensing your heart rate has stabilized, wanting to make sure you go to the bathroom and hydrate becomes Larissa’s next priority. Her voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Let’s get you some food now. I’m sure you’ve worked up an appetite.”

You two pick up the items in the messy dressing room and sheepishly leave the clothes on the courtesy rack outside. A grin blooms over your features as you think about how being stood up by your mom feels like such a nonissue now. Even the dilemma of what underwear to wear for your upcoming performance seems trivial. Walking out of the store with Larissa’s lipstick all over you, you decide that you won’t wear anything under your dress, especially not if Larissa is in the audience.

—

@sapphicbeloved Remember when you sent this request literal months ago????? Oops. Apologies, and please enjoy!

#I'm so sorry this took MONTHS to finish #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #mommy issues #principal larissa weems #request #requests #gwendoline christie #larissa weems #asks #fanfic #not proofread #will also post to ao3 #sapphicbeloved #fluff #smut #fluffy smut

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sehtoast · 5 months

Text

Indulge Me (Homelander x Reader Powerswap!au Smut)

18+ | 1.5k words | Pure smut, gender neutral reader, oral sex, lazy blowjob, ball sucking, rimming, begging, overstimulation, come eating, HL!reader, oral fixation | Fic Directory

This is your favorite.

He really was so perfect for you. Indulging this little need of yours, head tipped back on the couch, warm breaths escaping between his parted lips.

Your head rests in his lap while his fingers thread through your hair. It’s how he grounds himself. You know he enjoys this, too. This little… fixation of yours.

You lost track a while ago of how long you’ve been like this. Head turned toward his body as you suckle the head of his limp cock, tongue teasing his foreskin. You can’t recall how many loads you’ve swallowed, but you know he’s dazed and you’re in heaven.

Your own arousal has long since drenched your underwear, but you’ll take care of that eventually.

You roll your tongue lazily over the head, drool spilling down your cheek landing in a dark patch on his pants. He tastes so good, so sweet, and he’s all yours. You roll closer to him, letting his soft cock slip further back your tongue.

The goal was never quite to get him off, but rather to satisfy that little oral fixation of yours. He’d discovered it fairly early on in your relationship. A thumb pressed to your lower lip after a kiss, the digit sucked into your mouth, your eyes glazing over.

John had looked like a deer in headlights, but he went along with it. Pushed and pulled his thumb in and out, soft sighs escaping from him as he imagined how that tongue would feel on his cock.

He took your hand back then. Guided it into his pants, under his cute little briefs, let you grasp and stroke him while you laved over his finger. He ended up lightheaded and had to sit. That was when you, filthy little thing you are, traded his finger for his cock.

You held him in your mouth until your chest was soaked in a slick combination of come and slobber. Even then, you didn’t want to let off.

You feel him grow against your tongue, twitching again after his refractory period passed. He uses his grip in your hair to rock your head gently.

You don’t care. As long as you get what you want.

He pushes until the tip is at your tongue and you wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. Can’t be too careless, can’t hurt him. But you have to have him.

He looks down at you with glassy eyes and red cheeks. His chest heaves, he chews his lip, lets his hands roam.

“Mmm, god, what’d I ever do to deserve you?” He moans. “That’s so– oh, fuck…”

His cock twitches and you roll to swallow more of him. Your tongue travels lazily along the length. You angle your head to catch the bump of the vein that runs on the underside and his hips jerk.

“Hnngh,” he gasps. He’s sensitive, damn near overstimulated. His eyes travel to the window of your penthouse, basking in the beautiful blue sky as you work his cock– but not for too long.

The sight of you is far more gorgeous.

You shift, releasing him to prop yourself on your elbow.

“Pants off,” you tell him.

Without a second of hesitation, he pushes them down to his knees.

“Lay back.”

Once again, John does as you say, kicking his garments away and splaying his legs wide.

Your face is buried against him almost immediately, though this time you take one of his balls in your mouth. You hold it gently, tongue swiping over it in meticulously slow strokes. You taste the salt of his sweat and a flavor that is uniquely his.

You can feel him start stroking himself, his skin moving along with the more aggressive tugs.

He’s a moaning mess above you, but he knows not to come.

Not until your mouth is back around him and he can be savored.

His heel digs into your back and he arches up, pressing his sack against your mouth. He feels your drool slowly dribble down his balls, over his perineum, a small trail painting over his hole.

“Ah, might be a, uh, a weird ask,” he shudders, “your spit feels r-really good when it goes… down there, uh… C-Can you uhm, you know… drool… more?”

You look up at him with a twinkle of amusement in your spaced out eyes. You suck off of his sack with a wet pop, grabbing both of his thighs to push him so that his ass is exposed entirely to you.

“H-Hey!”

You press his thighs to his chest, kneeling before him. You can see the realization in his eyes and it stirs something playful in you. You drop a heaping glob of saliva on his hole before diving in, tongue swirling around the tight muscle. There’s more of an effort here than what you’d been doing before.

He deserves a treat for being so good for you for so long.

Your sweet little Johnny.

He keens below you, hands swatting below his rear to seek any part of you he could grab. Somehow he manages a handful of your cape.

You press your tongue flat against his rim, holding it there to warm him. Your hands move to knead his rear, the globes of his flesh so soft and malleable in your palms.

His whines and whimpers are so sweet, but your name flying off his tongue is by far the most delicious part of it all. He practically screams it when you pierce that tight ring of muscle, tongue wriggling inside.

How fucking amazing to know he was all yours. You could take him apart at your leisure, in any way you want, and he’d always beg for more.

Just like now.

“Ah, please! Please– fuck! Fuck!”

Your little birdie loves to sing for you.

“Oh, god, fuck, can– can I t-touch mys– AH!” He cried out as you pushed your tongue further, slipping out to suck hard on his perineum. “Please, please, oh fuck, please!!”

Your hand slipped around his waist to grasp his cock, squeezing just enough to make his whole body jump. You drag your fist over the length of him torturously slow as you tongue fuck him.

He weeps, begging and pleading.

Through his tears, he tells you how close he is. You angle his body, pointing the tip of his cock right at his mouth.

“Catch it,” you tell him, “but don’t swallow it.”

He nods like the desperate slut he is. Needy for you, needy for all that you’ll give him, starved until he can have it.

You drag your tongue from hole to sack, suckling his flesh and jerking him in three hard pumps that leave him howling an open mouthed moan, ropes of his come painting his face and tongue. You trail back to his hole and dip your tongue inside to feel every pulsation of his glorious release.

He feels his body drop and your tongue is upon his face in a fraction of a second, licking him clean.

He’s pretty sure it’s in his hair, too, but he can’t possibly care about that. Not when your tongue delves between his parted lips to lick everywhere you can possibly reach, desperate for more of his taste.

You’re like an animal starved for something only he can provide.

You press him against the couch, tasting your little pet, savoring his sounds and how they echo inside of you.

He’s so fragile looking when you pull away. He’s been undone and put back together over and over again. So good, so perfect for you.

All for you.

“Good boy, Johnny.” You purr into the shell of his ear.

He arches against you.

“You’re gonna take such good care of me now, right?”

He nods eagerly, nearly rising from the couch if not for your overwhelming strength keeping him in place.

Your hands slip under the hem of his sweater, pushing it up to reveal his nipples. You lean down to tongue over one, fingers finding the other.

“That delicious cock of yours is gonna be ready for me soon, right?” You murmur against his chest. You relish the feeling of his hands in your hair, gripping and tugging.

The thought of more damn near scares him. He’s not sure if he’s got anything left; he might end up shooting dry. Would you be upset that you didn’t get your little treat if that’s all he had?

“You’re gonna fuck me and take such good care of me, baby. I know it.”

You suck his rosy bud into your mouth, smirking at his weak moans.

“My sweet little Johnny…”

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander fanfiction #homelander smut #the boys #antony starr #a smutty followup fic has been cooking in my brain for a while now and GOD i've been wanting to write it for DAAAYSSS #sorry if there's typos lmao i'm sending this one out without a proofread

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osamusriceballs · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 31 <3

Kageyama's & Hinata's special day!

Warnings: NSFW, fem reader

Words: ~ 2,4 k

A/n: That's it for this year's Kinktober! I hope you enjoyed it, thank you so much for reading all/some of it! <3

Kinktober Masterlist

"Y/n, I got us-"

He stops in his tracks, the handles of two brown paper bags with steaming hot food clutched hard into his fingers as he watches the scene in front of him. The door behind him falls shut, a soft "click" signaling that it automatically locked. His dark blue eyes focus on the pair on the couch, who quickly separate when they notice his glare.

"Tobio! You're already- Shoyo just helped me with... with... that thing, right?" The orange-haired spiker still has his hands on your hips, his lips pink and swollen from all the kisses you shared, his cheeks reddened as his chest rises heavily under the red Olympics uniform. "Hmm, yes, that- uh... that thing. In your mouth. We totally weren't celebrating already. Absolutely not."

A pout appears on the setter's face when he wordlessly places the bags on the small couch table and plants himself next to you on the couch, still keeping so much distance that neither of you could touch him.

"Tobio? Come here, please?" You lift your hand from Hinata's shoulder and reach for Kageyama, but he simply crosses his arms over his equally red uniform and shakes his head silently.

"Come on, Kageyama. No silent treatment, please." Hinata pouts too now, a sight so adorable that you press one last kiss against his puckered lips before you climb out of his lap and crawl to Kageyama. Hinata reluctantly lets you go, one of his hands rubbing his face while he watches how you settle on Kageyama's lap, not caring that he turns his head to the side and ignores you.

"Tobio," you call his name, your hands roaming from his shoulders to his broad chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his shirt under your fingers while you repeat that movement in a soothing way. "Tobio, look at me, please." You bring one hand to his cheek and gently turn his face, and he surprisingly quickly gives in and allows you to move his face. He leans into the warmth of your hand, his cold blue eyes turning warmer the longer he looks at you. "We would never forget about you. We love you, you know that." You both keep eye contact for a few moments, and after a while he unfolds his arms to place his hands on your hips, effectively allowing you to reduce the distance between the two of you.

"I want what he had. Every kiss, every touch. Or else I'll leave with the food," he demands, his firm tone sending shivers down your spine and making your cheeks heat up.

Hinata protests on your left, but you already hum approvingly, happy that he's finally talking to you, and you don't even hesitate before you lean forward and connect your lips softly. His lips move slowly against yours, savoring every taste, probably even tasting Hinata on your lips as you deepen the kiss. You rest your hands on his shoulders, similar to the way you sat on Hinata's lap before, and you reposition yourself until you press your core against his crotch, grinding slowly on him while you keep your lips connected.

You feel the couch dip next to you and a hand on your bare thigh suddenly that sends tingles through your body. A groan leaves Kageyama's lips and you feel soft hair tickling your neck, realizing that Hinata has started to kiss down Kageyama's throat, probably leaving a few possessive marks on him, like he often does.

"Stop it, dumbass," you feel Kageyama weakly whisper against your lips, the words clearly directed to Hinata, but he stays unbothered by his words. You feel Kageyama getting hard under you, the bulge pressing against your core and making you feel even more excited. You grind against him just a tad bit faster, your tongue now grazing against his lips to invite him to reciprocate the action and he quickly opens his mouth while his hands tighten their grip around your hips. His initial stiffness has faded into longing breathless kisses as he focuses on tasting you thoroughly. "All good again, Kageyama?

Hinata pulls away from Kageyama, who simply groans as response, now settling himself behind you, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them. You moan against Kageyama's lips when Hinata's hands roam under your red Olympics fanshirt, the special customized version that you bought for this game with Hinata's number on the front and Kageyama's on the back. Hinata quickly tugs on the material until Kageyama loosens his grip enough for the material to ride up on our body. Kageyama's hands are warm against your skin, but not as warm as Hinata's. Hinata feels like an furnace behind you, and your body jolts when his fingertips caress your exposed stomach, sending tingles all over your body.

Your thighs cage Kageyama's hips, your legs trying to close when your arousal keeps growing with every stroke of Kageyama's tongue and every single caress of Hinata's hands. You moan loudly when Hinata's hands cup your breasts, his hands squeezing the bare flesh while his thumbs rub over your hardened nipples.

Kageyama pulls back when he notices how you barely manage to kiss him back, too distracted by the way Hinata eagerly plays with your tits and sucks on your neck. "You- Y/n, you didn't wear underwear during the game?" The dark-haired's breath stocks for a second and without any warning, he brings his hand under your skirt only to feel your bare ass under his fingers. "Y/n!" his jaw drops and you feel heat raise to your cheeks at the way his blue eyes seem to look into your soul. "I though we wanted to celebrate after the game anyways," you try to argue, and he takes a deep breath through his nose.

"I think it's hot," Hinata's lips curl into a grin and you feel your pussy throb at the way Hinata moans against your skin and pinches your nipples. Kageyama's eyes shoot towards the spiker at his words, clearly focused on the way he kisses you with need in his eyes. "Tobio," you rock your body on his cock, eager to get more friction when your body grows more sensitive with every passing moment that you're squeezed between the two attractive men.

"Hmm? What is it, love?" He rips his gaze off Hinata who seemingly can't stop himself from sucking a trail of hickeys on your neck similar to the one on Kageyama's neck. "Can you... pull down your shorts a bit?" you have a hard time bringing out the words when Hinata bites down on your shoulder, the fabric of the shirt thankfully stretchy enough to withstand the way the orange-haired man uses to bend it to his liking.

"Already? Hell, what has that idiot been been doing to you to get you so worked up?" Hinata chuckles at Kageyama's words, finally raising his face to kiss your cheek before he turns your face to kiss your lips too. He is quick to insert his tongue into your mouth, a soft caress against your own while his hands now fully wrap around you and hold you close.

You get lost in Hinata's kiss, your hands tightly wrapping into Kageyama's shirt while you hump against him, every bit of friction feeling so damn good against your clit. "Just let me-" Kageyama grabs your thighs now, slightly lifting your body and urging you to stay like this while he quickly pulls down his shorts and boxers until his cock springs free. He guides you back onto his lap, his cock now pressed against your stomach, making you clench around nothing while you needily whine against Hinata's lips.

"Need it," you bring your hands to Kageyama's face, feeling his smooth, clean shaved cheeks under your fingers, and he is quick to move your body again until you hover over his cock. You feel his tip prodding at your entrance and the next thing you realize is that his cock is slowly sinking into you, stretching you out and filling you up. One of your hands comes to Hinata's hair and grabs his strands, a groan leaving his lips when you slightly pull on them. It takes Kageyama just a few moments until he's buried fully inside of you, and you have to pull away from the kiss when you get overwhelmed by the sensation.

"Oy, Kageyama, that's not fair." Hinata whines at the lack of attention and Kageyama takes a deep breath to focus again before he leans forward to connect his lips with the orange haired's. You clench around Kageyama's cock inside of you, the messy sound of their kiss making your body grow even hotter while your bare nipples brush against Kageyama's shirt.

"You know that she can take us both, idiot." Kageyama pulls back with a groan and leans back on the couch, his hands loosely resting on your hips while you hear Hinata rustling with his clothes behind you, with no doubt freeing himself of his clothes. It only takes him a few moments to position himself behind you again, and then you suddenly feel his cock between your legs. "Shoyo-" you gasp when he presses against Kagyama's cock and prods at your entrance. "Oh, baby, we'll make you feel good. You're gonna feel so full." Hinata nuzzles his nose against your neck and grips his cock with his hand, sweetly cooing when you whine against at the sudden intrusion.

"Slow down, we haven't properly prepped her," Kageyama groans, the feeling of Hinata's fat cock pressing against the base of his cock surely driving him almost insane. "I can take it- please, please fuck me," you gasp and then Hinata finally starts to push inside. The stretch is almost too much for you to take, but the pleasure of having them both inside makes you forget about everything else.

Your head falls back to Hinata's shoulder and you moan loudly when you feel half of him inside of you, your body so sensitive at this point. "Fuck," Kageyama groans, feeling Hinata's cock rub against his own, and he closes his eyes for a few second to calm down. It only takes a few more moments until Hinata is fully buried inside of you, and all three of you remain still for a while, adjusting to the unusual position and the feeling. "Can we move, love?" Kageyama deeply exhales and leans forward to press his face against your neck, a strained breath leaving his lips when you clench around both of them. Hinata is no better, always being the most vocal out of the three of you, and his noises echo loudly through the room.

"Yes- yes, please-" you nod frantically, your arousal making it easy for them to thrust in and out of you again. They both support your body, basically moving you up and down like a doll, making you take them again and again. "Fuck-" "Baby-" they both groan, and you moan loudly as a response, both their names leaving your lips ever so lewdly.

They start with a slow and steady rhythm, their years of training together and learning each other's habits showing while you allow them to fuck you into ecstasy. When they feel you repeatedly clench and hear you beg for more, that's when they pick up their pace, their cocks twitching inside of you adding to your sensitivity.

"Can't- hold it much longer-" you hear Hinata whine next to your ear, knowing that he is ever so sensitive, but you're also close, so so close. "Wait until she cums, you know that she always comes first." Kageyama's fingers dig almost painfully in your waist while he bounces your body on their cocks, a clear sign that he is not far from finishing too.

"I know, I know," Hinata groans through gritted teeth, and one of his hands suddenly leaves your hip, leaving it to Kageyama to set the rhythm while his fingers move down to your clit. His fingers rub against the sensitive nub, and you almost scream as a response, too overwhelmed by all the feelings. "Gonna-" you gasp, your eyes falling shut when your whole body shakes, succumbing into the pleasure that both men bring to you.

"It's okay, cum for us, make a mess, show us how good we make you feel." Hinata's words and Kageyama's desperate thrusts make you see stars, and you hold onto him when you cum, when your pussy clenches around their cocks while Hinata presses down on your clit, relentless in his urge to make you cum. You barely realize that they both follow you suit, not even a few moments after your pleasure overwhelms you. Hinata moans your name loudly and Kageyama groans a few curses when his head falls back and his hands hold you so close to his body as if he was never going to let you go.

They cum a lot. You felt full before, but now, your pussy is overflowing with their white and creamy cum, your walls fluttering while your legs try to close. You all try to catch your breath, your body limply laying on Kaygama's now, while Hinata presses his forehead against your back. Hinata deeply inhales your scent, his eyes closing while he is ever so sensitive to every single touch. "Slowly," you mumble when you feel Hinata pulling out first, a groan leaving your lips when he slides out, his cock now soft and warm. Kageyama takes a deep breath before he lifts you just enough until you're not sitting on his cock anymore, their cum instantly starting to drip down, but none of you cares about that.

Hinata gently guides you to lay down on the couch, Kageyama following suit until you all three rest on it, your limbs entangled while you share kisses and sweet words. "Taking us so good always. Such a pretty doll for us," Kegayama mumbles and kisses the shell of your ear, eliciting a content hum from you while his hands start to work on your sore thighs, kneading the tense muscles until they feel soft again. "Hmm, that's my baby, the prettiest, sexiest, most perfect girl," Hinata smiles while his lips connect with yours in a slow and sensual kiss, and you smile back happily, feeling content and satisfied between the both of them.

The rumble of a stomach interrupts the post-orgasm haze though, and Hinata is quick to mumble an apology with reddened ears when you both look at him. Kageyama just sighs and shakes his head, a content grin still evident on his face.

"Come on. Let's eat something and then we'll properly celebrate."

#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #kageyama #hinata #kageyama x reader #hinata x reader #kageyama smut #hinata smut #there we go!#I didn't properly proofread it yet #I'm very sorry #I'll do it sometime this week #I have an important presentation tomorrow #So my head was kinda in the clouds today #ANYWAYS!#I hope you enjoyed the kinktober event this year!#it wasn't thaaat kinky tbh #but just some heartwarming smut I'd say #feel free to tell me your opinion or comments or whatever you want to let me know! <3 #I think my next project is finishing the series that I have started during the past few years #they deserve some kind of ending #and then I might do a christmas event #or maybe another special event #where I write with prompts that you can choose or something #let's see!<3 #sleep well everyone #love you a lot! <3 #and thank you for your support

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throneofsapphics · 9 months

Note

Plss can you write more Rowaelin x reader, something with a pregnant reader where they are very protective, maybe a little smut at the end???

we won't risk you

poly!Rowaelin x Reader

Summary: Reader is pregnant, and starting to get fed up with Rowan and Aelin.

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: smut, minor injury and blood, a bit of angst

A/N: yes absolutely! thank you for the request <3

Rowan, of course, figured it out first, detected the shift in your scent. You hadn’t been trying for a baby, but hadn’t not been. After all, the three of you were bound together for life.

Soon enough, extra food was being shoved at you, special teas, lots of fruit and vegetables. It was endearing. At first.

You never went out into public alone. If it wasn’t Aelin or Rowan, it would be Fenrys. Who was almost as bad as them, snarling at anyone who looked at you a second too long. Within weeks, all of Orynth knew you were expecting a babe. After the news broke, things got worse. Terrasen may be at peace now, but there’s still those out there who hold a grudge. According to Aelin and Rowan. When guards seemed to appear around you - in the castle, you put your foot down.

“I’m fully capable of protecting myself.” You hissed at them. Both of them stared back, completely unperturbed.

“We know.” Aelin said and you groaned.

“I don’t see you trailed by guards everywhere you go.”

Her eyes darkened slightly. “We won’t risk you. Both of you.”

“At least tell them to stay out of sight.” You muttered after seeing the expression on Rowan’s face. Pure determination. You wouldn’t be winning this fight. “Why can’t I just stay with you?”

“You’re going to sit in on state meetings?” Aelin raised a brow.

Last time you sat in on a meeting, half of them left with their tails between their legs. Diplomacy wasn’t your strong suit. Actually, it would be pure torture for you to have to sit there. “You have a point.”

You reached for the mug, pressing up on your toes, finally you were able to curl your fingers around the handle, gently easing it off the shelf before … it slipped crashing to the ground with a loud thud that seemed to ring through your head. That was the last straw. You scrambled to the floor, ignoring the bits of porcelain digging into your bare knees and started grabbing the pieces, tears streaming down your face. Everything seemed to be going wrong recently. The morning sickness had finally drifted away, but it was like a bad luck charm followed you. Just this morning you banged your hip against the corner of a tall nightstand, before opening a door too quickly and jamming your toe against it. The third strike - your favorite mug, broken. The one you drank out of every morning. You vaguely heard the door opening, and sensed panic coming from both of your mates - likely scenting the copper radiating from the small cuts. You didn’t realize you had cuts on your fingers, nor bits of porcelain sticking into your knees.

You felt Rowan’s hand on your shoulder, “put them down,” his voice was soft but firm.

“I just need to -”

Careful hands reached to take the pieces from you, but you clenched your hands around them and tucked your hands into your chest defensively. You hissed as they dug in, blood spurting up around them.

Rowan's fingers curled around your wrists, applying just enough pressure that you’d drop the pieces, and one hand curled under your knees, the other under your back as he carried you over to the couch.

He frowned, looking at the small pieces sticking out of your knees. When you went to take them out yourself, he swatted your hands away, ignoring your scowl.

“I’m pregnant. Not incompetent.”

“And you’ll let us take care of you.” Aelin’s hands were already cupping yours - somehow acquiring tweezers in the few seconds it took Rowan to carry you over to the couch.

“I need to clean that-”

“Stop.” Rowan cut you off. “You won’t go anywhere near it.” His voice was nearly a growl.

You could sense the protective instincts flowing through both of them. “It’s just a mug, I can clean it up.”

He glanced down at your knees, and your hands where they both were picking the small pieces out, before meeting your eyes again, as if to say really?

Tears welled up, and you will yourself not to cry again. It’s just a mug, you told yourself. That’s it. No reason for you to get so worked up about it.

They wiped away your tears, and the blood, and healed the small cuts on you - before dragging you to a healer to make sure everything was okay.

The healer could see the expression on your face, and shared a sympathetic smile when their backs were turned. “She’s perfectly healthy.” She told them, “no need to limit any activities, for now.”

You almost winced at the ‘for now’ portion. Rowan and Aelin would take that as right now. “Thank you,” you said instead, and let them lead you away.

After the mug incident, as you’d named it, they never let you out of their sight. Never. You were always with one of them, and only got time to yourself in the bathroom. Even then, if your bath was a bit too long one of them would knock either to check in or join you.

You nearly snapped one morning, tempted to call them excessive, to tell them to piss off, but a conversation replayed in your mind. Aelin telling you of Lyria, of how Rowan lost her, and you cooled your temper, focusing on taking some calming breaths.

Still, that was enough to have Aelin at your side immediately, scanning you for any signs of harm. They were especially sensitive to any bits of distress that might be coming from you, any sense that something could be off. “What’s wrong?” She frowned, a thumb brushing across your cheekbone. You leaned into her touch.

“Nothing,” you murmured.

“Liar,” she purred, and you saw the worry in her eyes. Aelin wouldn’t give up until you gave a satisfactory answer, that you knew for certain.

“It’s just a bit much.” All of the air seemed to leave your body as you watched her, watched for any reaction - sign of anger or upset or betrayal. But only confusion showed.

“What is?”

Gods, you didn’t know how to put it into words. How to put it into kind words. How to explain without coming off as ungrateful or a major asshole. “I’m feeling a bit stifled.”

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Her eyes lit up. Maybe she thought you’d been indoors too long. You swallowed the tinge of disappointment, that she hadn’t picked up on the real issue, and nodded. Let her wrap you up in a coat and scarf, despite the fact that it’s September and mild outside. No need for either of those.

Fae instincts, you reminded yourself.

“You’re tense.” Rowan put down the book in front of him. Your head was resting in Aelin’s lap. She stiffened, but her fingers kept running through your hair, movements never faltering.

“Of course I am.” You finally snapped. “I can’t take a deep breath without either of you hovering over me. I haven’t been alone in weeks.”

“Last time you were alone you ended up bleeding.” Aelin peered over to look at your face and you groaned.

“It was one mistake.”

“That won’t happen again.” She shifted both of you on the couch, so your back was pressed against her chest, and her hands started working your shoulders, releasing some of the tension you’d been carrying.

A moan left your lips. Arousal quickly filled the room - coming from both of them, so you moaned again. Testing their restraint, their control. Aelin’s hands drifted further down your arms, hooking underneath them to run her thumbs over the sides of your breasts. A shiver ran down your spine at the touch. Sensitive, they’d grown so sensitive over the last few weeks. And Aelin was well aware of that fact.

“Aelin,” you breathed, head thrown back against her.

“Yes darling?” Her thumb grazed over your nipple, and your back arched, mouth barely stifling a whimper. “So responsive,” she murmured, and repeated the action. You wanted her. So gods-damned bad. Both of them wanted her, both of them.

From the hungry look in Rowan’s eyes, the way his gaze monitored Aelin’s every move and your every reaction, you could tell he felt the same.

Intimacy had been … tricky, so to say. At first, they’d been terrified to touch you. You came up with a solution of your own, and let them catch you touching yourself inside the bath …

You were nearly there, your fingers circling your clit, soft whimpers leaving your lips, when a hand caught yours. Rowan stood there, his eyes blazing with lust, his body practically trembling. Aelin stood behind him, her expression near identical.

You snatched your hand away, “I was busy.”

Aelin had already taken her clothes off, “move,” she said softly, nudging you forward. You let her slip in behind you.

Rowan growled, but she grinned at him. “You were too slow,” and her hands started ghosting along your shoulders, thumbs brushing against your nipples.

“Aelin,” you breathed, “please.”

“I do love hearing you beg, darling.” She murmured, her lips grazing your ear, before her canines scraped alongside the column of you throat. You spared a glance to Rowan, and saw him exercising centuries of self-restraint, his hardness already showing. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

You didn’t get a chance to reply as one finger dragged up your folds, before gently circling your clit. You’d been so on edge for the last few weeks, that you threw your head back in a moan, cumming almost embarrassingly quickly.

Rowan didn’t bother toweling you off, and carried you right to your bed.

He took his time. Took so gods-damned long to prepare you that you dug your nails into his shoulder and told him you’d do it yourself if he couldn’t.

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #rowaelin x y/n #rowan whitethorn x y/n #rowan whitethorn x reader #aelin galathynius x y/n #aelin x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin x reader #throne of glass fic #throne of glass smut #throne of glass #throne of glass imagine #throne of glass x reader #not proofread #I've never been pregnant this is probably inaccurate #also I'm sorry I'm nearly incapable of writing anything without angst

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nariism · 8 months

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your boyfriend can't sleep without you anymore.

he used to be tormented by thoughts that kept him awake at night, leaving him tossing and turning until he could hear birds chirping. he was always sort of an insomniac. and it showed, too, when people would point out how irritated he looked every morning.

he's slotted between your legs with his arms around your torso. you're balancing a book on his head: elemental slimes and their applications. it's hefty but the weight reassures him for some reason, proves to him that your existence isn't some figment of his imagination— you're real and holding him like he's some kind of sacred treasure.

one of your hands is in his hair, mindlessly twirling and combing through it. the other is pulling him closer to your body by the back of the neck, effectively squishing him against you.

"did you know that dendro slime flowers taste bitter?" he only hums in response, eyes growing heavy with sleep. his lack of a proper answer tells you all you need to know. the book atop his head closes and is exchanged with your lips, pressing gentle kisses down to his forehead as you peel him away from you to settle into bed.

all the thoughts that would usually keep him up are replaced only by you. you and your warm hands, soft kisses and excerpts from the book you're reading.

he falls asleep before you can even turn the lamp off.

ALHAITHAM, diluc, AETHER, kaeya, dainsleif + your favs <3

#— whispers in the wind ✧#gn reader #not proofread i'm sorry #genshin impact #genshin #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #diluc x reader #aether x reader #kaeya x reader #dainsleif x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff

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blindmagdalena · 1 year

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Homelander and spanking is giving me brainrot rn. Just imagine lightly smacking his ass throughout the day as a joke only for him to turn tables and go from 0 to 100 REAL quickly

18+, f!reader, spanking, dirty talk, inappropriate use of a conference room, p-in-v sex, cream pie. The first time you slap Homelander's ass, it's a drive-by at work. It's quick, a sharp little smack with the back of your hand because he hasn't noticed his cape is pulled aside, hooked on a chair. No one he's standing with notices, but he whips his head around to look at you. You're already halfway down the hall, practically fleeing from him while grinning to yourself.

The two of you have been dating for a while. It's certainly the office's worst kept secret, but you both still like to play around as if no one knows.

It happens again that same day while the two of you are alone in The Seven's conference room, and this time it's a full on assault. It's hardly your fault that when you drop your pen, he doesn't bend with his knees. Instead, he bends perfectly in half, acting the part of the ideal gentleman to pick up your pen. You reel both hands back, and clap him loudly on the ass, surprising even yourself with the sound it makes.

The look on his face when he whirls around on you makes you nearly scream with laughter, muffling it into both your hands.

"Okay," he says slowly, voice pitched so menacingly that you instantly turn on your heel, making a break for the closed door, but he catches you by the waist and yanks you right back. "You wanna play? Let's play."

"No! No! It was just a joke! I won't do it again!" You cry, writhing in his grip, still laughing.

"Nope. You started this, now I'm gonna finish it," he says, bending you over the table. He keeps you there with nothing more than a light hand on your lower back, and shamelessly flips your skirt up over your hips.

You gasp, whole body tensing up immediately. "Oh my god, hold on-"

The first crack of his gloved hand against your ass knocks the next words completely from your brain, swiftly emptying it. You expect that to be the end of it, a revenge beautifully executed. Until he does it again.

This time, you moan.

The sound surprises both of you.

You feel your whole face flush, your stomach doing backflips. You reach back to push your skirt down, wildly embarrassed by how obscene the noise had been in your own ears.

However, Homelander doesn't let you up. Instead, he takes hold of your wrist and curls it behind your back, wringing another surprised noise from you. "Wh-what're you-" He does it again. He's incredibly restrained, striking with such precision of strength, it's honestly a wonder. To your mortification, you can feel your clit beginning to throb. Holy fuck, this is turning you on fast. He delivers another sharp little smack, and then another. You clench your thighs together, panting out pitchy little breaths with every blow.

Homelander slides his hand up from the small of your back to the back of your neck, squeezing it. You can feel yourself beginning to soak your panties, ridiculously wet not only from the way he's spanking you, but from the ragged way you can hear him breathing. Knowing he's getting off on this as much as you are strikes a chord low in your belly.

"H-Homelander," you moan. Your ass is beginning to smart, hot to the touch. Even when he just rubs it, it feels absolutely electric. "Jesus Christ," he growls, gritting the words out through his teeth.

The next thing you know, he lets go of your neck and you hear a distinctive metallic click. It's followed immediately by an audible shuffle of fabric, and then you feel him hook the crotch of your panties with his thumb, pulling the material aside.

You recognize the shape of the fat head of his cock pushing against your pussy immediately. It makes an obscene, wet noise upon contact, smearing not only your wetness, but his. He rocks his hips, grinds back and forth against you, trailing that wetness from your clit nearly all the way back to your ass.

"All this time," he breathes, voice rough, already wrecked with his own arousal. "You just wanted me to spank you, huh?"

You make a pleading little noise, spreading your legs further.

"Could'a just asked, sweetheart," he says, huffing a laugh. You can hear how he's restraining himself, forcing himself to go slow, keeping himself from shoving inside you all at once. He fucks lazily between the wet folds of your cunt, slowly driving you wild.

"C'mon," you urge, rocking back against him. "Fuck me," you say, but instead of moving him along any faster, all you get is another sharp slap to your ass.

"Say please," he chides.

"Please," you moan readily, knees quivering. "Please, please fuck me."

He grunts out a tight little "Fuck," and takes your hips in both hands as he finally lines himself up with your cunt. He moves slow, makes you pant and whine as he eases just the thick head of his cock into you. He rocks you back and forth with ease, like a toy, working himself gradually deeper.

You claw at the table, struggling to find purchase, but the glass is smooth and too wide, leaving you absolutely nothing to grip. You can't do anything but take it, moaning feverishly as he opens you up.

"Always take me so fucking good," he groans, halfway there now, savoring the way your walls cling to him. "Like you were made to."

"I was," you say, hands balled up into fists, panting condensation onto the glass table top. "I was made for you, feel so fucking good in me, oh fuck, fuck, my pussy's still shaped like you."

Those words snap something in him, cause him to jerk you back the rest of the way onto his cock. Your ass stings deliciously when he bottoms out against it, wringing another pitchy moan from you. You've always had the power to shatter his meticulously crafted control, and today is no exception.

You wanted him to fuck you, and you're going to get it.

Homelander fucks you in sharp, deep little bursts, barely leaving you, just grinding deeper and deeper until you feel the head of his cock bumping into the very core of you.

Abruptly, he pulls you up until your back is flush to his chest. He wraps one hand around your waist while the other goes right to your throat, lifting you clean off your feet, holding you tight while he mercilessly pounds into you.

You have no leverage, can't do anything but grab hold of his wrist with both hands, clinging to him. Your ass burns and your cunt fucking aches, and there's a pressure building in you so rapidly you feel like you're going to explode.

"I-I'm gonna come," you gasp wetly, tears gathering in your eyes from the sheer overwhelm of sensation. "H-Homelander, I'm gonna come, I'm-I'm gonna come!"

He just pumps his hips faster, buries his face in the crook of your neck and fucking bites into your shoulder. It surprises you so much you nearly scream, and with it, your climax hits you like a truck. Your whole body seizes up, an explosion of waves rolling through you. The euphoria is unbelievable, knocks the wind right out of your lungs and paralyzes you, leaves you unable to breathe while Homelander fucks you through it.

After one last hard slam, Homelander stills, spilling into you with a ragged, gasping moan. The heat and flood of it is so intense, you almost take it for a second orgasm, goosebumps erupting across your body all over again.

Slowly, gently, Homelander lowers you back down onto the table, covering your body with his.

The two of you stay like that for several long moments, both catching your breath, both equally shocked by the rate at which the situation had escalated.

Eventually, after a deep breath, you say, "So... I like spanking."

"Yeah," Homelander exhales, licking his lips. "Me too."

#oh my god where did this come from. that was filthy.#not me looking around the room after writing this like 'WHO DID THIS?'#sorry i didn't proofread it and i'm not going to #homelander x reader #homelander x you #darling anon #ask and you shall receive #my writing #smut

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headphonegrl · 1 year

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“Here you go.” It’s late in the morning on a Sunday, and the sun is pouring through the window, casting honey-coloured light all over the living room. Jude’s half-asleep with his cheek squished against the cushion his mum bought him for a housewarming present, and the sudden sound of your voice startles him into full consciousness; all he’s heard for the last hour is the lull of characters speaking on the show he’s watching and that cheesy laugh track played on all nineties sitcoms alike.

“What?” His words are half verbal and half a content hum through his nose. One of his eyes is closed and the other is squinting, trying to make out where you’re sitting in front of his coffee table with your legs tucked under yourself.

“Put your arm out.” You shuffle towards him, your fuzzy socks gliding against the wooden floor. Months have passed of you trying to convince him to buy a rug, but still the space remains bare and shiny due to his indecisiveness.

Jude pokes his arm out from between the blankets he’s had bunched up by his chin. Despite the sky outside being a stretch of clear baby blue, he’s dramatically complained all morning about his risk of getting hypothermia. There’s a mug of tea on the floor next to the foot of the sofa which you had made him earlier, and it sits there lukewarm because he’s afraid that once he moves all the heat will escape in one go. “It’s cold.”

“Here.” You stretch a bracelet over the back of his hand and onto his wrist; tiny blue and green beads placed perfectly in patterns of three, with a little yellow heart that you fiddle with so it sits flat against his skin. Goosebumps appear on his forearm and you try and rub them away with your palms, which are still warm from the little hot water bottle you’ve had sitting in your lap, the one Jude’s grandma had bought you for Christmas.

“You made it?” His voice is still hoarse from rest and he tries to clear his throat with a little cough, and then another when that one fails. Part of him is mad at himself now, he’s had his eyes shut all this time and missed the image of you adorably poking your tongue out in concentration.

“It’s stupid.” You scrunch your nose up, murmuring something about how you made some over cocktails with your friends one night and bought a kit for yourself because you thought it was fun. A little patch of golden light is illuminating one side of your face and if his phone wasn’t sitting in the other room on his bedside table, Jude would be a very annoying boyfriend and insist on taking a photo.

“No way.” The idea of you being paired with the word ‘stupid’ seems completely morally wrong, like two things that shouldn't exist in the same universe. It’s a firm belief of his that you should only be associated with all things sweet and kind, like old fifties love songs with trumpets in the back or those little flowers that appear at the beginning of spring after an awful winter.

“You don’t have to wear it.” You twiddle the beads around on the stretchy elastic, before moving your fingertips to trace the lines on his palms; the same thing you do when you’re sitting next to each other at dinner or on the train. “You can take it off later.”

“I’m not taking it off!” Jude snatches his hand away from where you’ve been holding it, and you let out a wheeze of laughter that sends a fuzzy rush of love to his heart. A feeling that he wishes he could catch mid-air and bottle up for when he’s far away and misses you so much that his chest aches like he’s pulled a muscle.

“Okay.” You smile down at where you’re picking at a loose thread on the blanket, curling it around your finger over and over again. “If you’re sure.”

“Are you kidding?” To him, you must be. It’s already been decided: He’ll wear it to sleep and in the shower. He’ll tuck it under his sleeve so he doesn’t have to take it off during training. It’ll hang on his hook in the changing rooms during a big game like a little good luck charm. If it slides above his wrist, he’ll search frantically under the hem of his sleeves in fear he’s lost it. He’ll wear it even when all the colour rubs off the beads and they’re left white. He’ll keep it until it inevitably snaps and you have to make a new one, exactly the same. “It’s my most prized possession.”

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licncourt · 2 years

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Is there a specific way to read the vampire chronicles or some books you should skip (I’ve just heard that some aren’t that good but like I’m up for anything)? And what books are focused on Louis and Lestat?

Okay I hope you weren't looking for a short answer to this because there isn't one 😭 Rather than just give my uncontextualized opinion, I'm going to try to explain what makes some (most) of VC so unbelievably terrible in so many people's eyes. There are going to be spoilers for pretty much all the books, but most of it is either incredibly stupid or information that you might want relating to content warnings. I'll list what applies to each book as I go.

I'm assuming you're here from my VC primer post, but if not, I'll link it right here! It gives a bit more detail on my short answer to your main question which is: if you value your sanity, only read the first three. Also a note to read the post I linked at the bottom of it about Anne Rice for context. It will help with understanding the tone this post takes re: the author.

To quickly answer your second question, I am sad to report that Interview with the Vampire is the only book focused on Loustat because after that Anne Rice decided that she hated Louis. Their relationship is on and off in the (very, VERY distant) background until they finally get together permanently towards the end of the series, but it's never the focal point again. She just kept us all on the hook by having one absolutely brain chemistry altering ship moment in a majority of the books (my compilation of those moments here).

Okay, on to specifics:

Interview with the Vampire: a literary classic with incredible character building. I'm assuming we can all agree that IWTV is fantastic and anyone who is reading this because of the show is probably already sold on it. If that's where you're coming from, you might be a bit disappointed by how unsympathetic Lestat can be, but that'll be remedied(ish) later. Lestat is the main character in the series going forward. Enjoy this Louis content because this is pretty much the end of it.

CW: keep in mind that the beginning of the book takes place on a plantation with all that entails; there are some occasional pedophilic and incestuous undertones, but nothing out of place with Gothic horror (it gets so much worse); domestic violence

The Vampire Lestat: this is widely considered to be excellent popular fiction rather than something as elevated as IWTV, but it's a 5-star read according to most fans. Lestat is such a vibrant, exciting character and so much more than the charismatic villain he was in IWTV (the AMC show incorporates a lot of his characterization from this book, as IWTV was originally a stand-alone novel without any real idea of what Lestat would become).

Aside from a (delightful) cameo at the end of the book, Louis is now in Anne Rice Jail and will not be allowed to do anything for the next nine books except be tortured once like a bug for no reason.

CW: a non-consensual turning that is directly analogous to sexual assault; descriptions of child abuse; Lestat, unfortunately, tongue kisses his mom

Queen of the Damned: this is the last book that most fans like. I personally consider it a step down from the first two, but I strongly prefer intimate, character driven stories and QotD is very plotty. It's a fun book, but some cracks start to show in AR's writing that will become a big problem later. Still, it's enjoyable and the ending is very satisfying for the story arc and for the characters. It also contains a fan favorite chapter that follows Daniel, the interviewer, and his insane romance with the vampire Armand.

If you want to be a happy person, turn back now.

CW: non-con blood drinking/vampiric SA; casual racism and pro-imperialism

***CATEGORY 5 EVENT: ANNE RICE FIRES HER EDITOR PERMANENTLY***

The Tale of the Body Thief: this is considered by most fans (obligatory not ALL) to be the worst book in the series simply for how the subject matter is handled. This is the beginning of AR transforming Lestat into something very existentially disturbing without even meaning to. The sympathetic, charming, evil-but-not-really theater kid Lestat is gone without a trace in a way that could be a very insightful look at the aftermath of trauma but is instead deeply insensitive and really upsetting.

Lestat from here on out becomes a hypermasculine caricature that can do no wrong according to the narrative and this has some pretty awful results. There are a few funny moments (like Lestat describing the sensation of peeing for two full pages) and a very cute arc where he adopts a dog, but he also commits two explicit rapes and emotionally abuses/threatens Louis on several occasions with the authorial justification that "men can't help themselves", abuse victims have it coming for setting boundaries, and people who have suffered abuse become abusers. This will be a recurring theme going forward.

Not related to Lestat, but also an Indian man is killed and has his body stolen and inhabited by a white British man in what would be a great metaphor for colonialism if the author thought that was a bad thing.

I am on the last chapter of a 140,000 word fic that I wrote just because I hate TotBT so much and wanted to create a world where it doesn't have to exist. It's one of the most popular VC fics on ao3, and that's not a testament to my writing ability, but rather to how much people hate this book.

CW: graphic SA; domestic violence; insensitivity to the point of racism; the author thinking these things are okay

Memnoch the Devil: not much to say about this. It's AR's ripoff of Dante's Inferno. Lestat meets the devil, goes to hell, drinks the blood of Jesus Christ, loses an eye, vacuum sucks period blood out of a woman's uterus and pad, and then falls into a five year semi-coma on a church floor. Somehow it's still boring. Best I can say is that the Lestat characterization is a bit less heinous than it is in the previous book.

CW: not much here unless you have an issue with period blood guzzling

The Vampire Armand: truly a notorious book in the series, beloved by some, hated by many. There's some good backstory for the character Armand (he first appears in IWTV, likely in season two of the show) and some fun historical fiction, however. Armand begins his story as a twelve year old human child who is rescued from sex slavery by an ancient vampire, Marius (he was namedropped in AMC ep 2).

Over the course of the book, he's physically, mentally, sexually abused by Marius, his teacher and father figure who is, like David, presented as a wise and moral authorit figure. In addition, Armand carries on a sexual relationship with an adult man as a minor. The sex is graphic (it's erotica) and it's really the peak of the pedophilia in VC. Keep in mind that this is coming from an author who publicly defended a child predator and thought that 14 year old kids could consent and should be allowed to have sex with adults.

Of all the later books, this one is the most widely enjoyed because Marius/Armand is a fairly popular ship.

CW: CSA/grooming; statutory rape; explicit adult/minor content; child abuse; cult abuse

Merrick: evil, evil book. AR's giant fuck you to Louis and anyone who likes his character. Lestat is in his devil coma for most of this book, so it's narrated by his newest fledgling and rape victim, David (who I and most others despise. This is the white guy who has an Indian body now). By this point, AR had openly admitted that she didn't like Louis, and she kind of spends this book tormenting and mocking him for no reason.

The titular Merrick (a mixed-race witch drowned in awful racial connotations) mind controls Louis with magic, then forces him to turn her (again, AR has confirmed that this is vampire rape) and be in a relationship. After this, she conjures a "ghost" that may or may not be Louis and Lestat’s dead daughter who tells Louis she always hated him and blamed him for her death. Completely overcome by grief, without Lestat (coma), and having been raped, Louis attempts suicide.

This event and all his mental health issues up to this point are framed by David as being stupid and weak, the sign of a lesser person who should just go and die because they deserve it. It is worth mentioning yet again that David is framed as being in the right and AR had expressed these opinions herself in the past (ie that mental illness is just weakness and you should be able to get over it).

Another fun thing is that Merrick was groomed by David as a child and he spends most of the book wanting her back and also admitting to other acts of pedophilia. So that's fun and great for a character who's supposed to be a voice of reason and moral center.

0/10, despise this book.

CW: sexual assault; grooming; attempted suicide

Blood & Gold: this is Marius' backstory. It is a completely pointless book because we've already heard it twice by this point in the series (and if you read the companion book Pandora, you'll hear it again). The whole thing reads like a Wikipedia page about ancient Rome. Read it if you want I guess.

CW: Marius

Blackwood Farm: this book had...potential? None of that was ever achieved, but I'll at least say that the concept could be worse. Lestat acquires his FIFTH brunette sadboi love interest of the series in this book, so that's kind of funny. Overall though, any positive qualities are overshadowed by weird prose, a really transphobic caricature, and the fact that the main character has shower sex with the ghost of his dead twin brother

CW: transphobia; sibling incest

Blood Canticle: Miss Rice decided to. Get creative with this book. It is a fandom joke. It is the worst prose in existence. It is a literary manic episode. It is truly indescribable. I'm just going to leave this excerpt from ch 1 here and let you imagine an entire book of this

Yes, chapter one is Anne Rice using Lestat as a proxy to berate her readers for not liking Memnoch the Devil. It's also important to me that you know Lestat calls himself "omnisensual" in this book, tries to become a saint, and tells a woman to put some clothes on because men can't control themselves. The word "chuckle" is also written out in the prose in italics like this is ff.net in 2010. The best thing that came of this book is the famous AR Amazon reviews rant (now a beloved VC fandom copypasta). Please read it. It's transcendent.

CW: psychologically devastating prose

Prince Lestat: this is AR's comeback book, published 12 years after Blood Canticle. It's an improvement, but it's still terrible and very, VERY dumb. Lestat has completed his transformation into a macho man male power fantasy for AR and we end with the establishment of a vampire monarchy with Lestat in charge because he slurped and then puked up the brains of the vampire who had the Special Vampire Essence.

Mostly this was an excuse for AR to kill off a bunch of her weird NPCs that she didn't know what to do with. The good news is we get a very cute, official Loustat love confession and for the first time since the first book in the entire series, we get a chapter that's Louis' POV!! It's like 7 pages long but it's the best we're ever going to get.

Other fun thing that happens: Lestat is hooked up to a hormone IV that allows him to fuck (book vampires can't) and the resident scientist vampire steals his cum and creates a petri dish clone of Lestat that is raised in secret for 18 years before being given to Lestat as his son. No, I'm not joking.

CW: uh, brain eating? Insanely unethical human experimentation?

Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis: batshit crazy book. Truly bonkers. There are aliens, Atlantis is real, Lestat has a sentient brain parasite that controls all vampires and talks to him in his mind like the PS5, vampire brain surgery occurs, a choir of child vampires is there, an alien named Derek breastfeeds a disembodied hand until it grows into his clone named Derek Two, and so much more.

The one positive is that after decades of harassment, AR finally lets Louis be a main character again. By this point he has been completely stripped of his personality (I call it the Louis Lobotomy) and exists solely as Lestat's sexy lamp, but whatever. He's there and they're cute together. How they managed to become a healthy, functional couple overnight after two hundred years of drama is never explained.

Lestat makes out with his rapist and talks about how he was asking for it in a particularly nauseating scene, but otherwise it's pretty tame trigger-wise

CW: rape apologia/victim blaming

Blood Communion: we are finally being put out of our misery. The end of the series. This is such a boring book and Lestat’s characterization is completely nonsensical by now. Several main characters are presumed dead for a while and by this point you don't even care. Not even the other characters in the book seem to care. Its only use is to get that sweet sweet Loustat happy ending.

CW: temporary character death

Alright, that was a lot of shit-talking a book series I literally run a fandom blog and write hundreds of thousands of words of fic for, but the truth is, fans are here for the characters as they were originally created. The first three books are wonderful, the first two completely masterful and case studies in how character building should be done. There's a reason they've been read and analyzed and fawned over for forty years. What happened to the series is heartbreaking, but it doesn't negate the impact of how it started.

AR may have started spelling her own characters' names wrong and writing a baffling combination of disgusting hot takes and total absurdity, but she created something special in the beginning and I'll always love it and be grateful for what it once was.

I hope that was helpful!

#i'm sorry i didn't proofread this it's 4am #answered #vc #the vampire chronicles #iwtv #loustat #louis de pointe du lac #lestat de lioncourt #interview with the vampire

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soapsbaby · 7 months

Text

☆ Day 2 // Praise // König ☆

Summary: He loves to praise you and everything you do.

Characters: König x Reader

Themes: nfsw (mdni), oral (m receiving), PIV, size difference, lots of praise, overstimulation, unprotected

Word Count: 1500

The moment the door was shut behind you, König had you pushed against the wall, his huge frame towering over you.

“Finally I have you to myself, mein kleiner Spatz.” (my little sparrow)

His voice was deep, quiet enough that you could barely hear him, but still clear enough that every single word made you shiver.

He had to bend down so that he could lift his mask, pull you in for a kiss.

The desperation between the two of you was palpable, all day you had been teasing one another without a way to actually release the tension between you.

It was almost ten at night now and the last meeting was finally over and you had been able to sneak away to his room without anyone noticing that you were together.

His big, gloved hand gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear as he pulled away from you, the fabric of his mask falling over his face again.

The look in his eyes was soft, gentle.

"You're so fucking beautiful.", he said quietly, his hand gently cupping your face.

"Oh, shut up."

You felt your face flush bright pink, struggling to keep eye contact with him.

"No… No, never."

He tugged on your shirt until you lifted your arms, letting him take it off. You were only in your underwear and your skirt now, a skirt that was technically too scandalous to wear around the base but that no one had called you out on yet.

You knew the effect it had on König, that’s why you took the risk of being reprimanded.

His hands snaked around your back, skillfully unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor with the shirt.

“So gorgeous.”, he muttered as his hands gently cupped your breasts, sighing as he kneaded your soft skin between his fingers.

Even with the mask you knew there was a smile on his lips as you dropped to his knees in front of him, never breaking eye contact.

He sighed softly as you unzipped his pants, finally freeing him from the tightness of his boxers, pulling them down his legs so he could step out of them.

"I've been waiting for this all day.", he said, hand still cupping your face as if he didn't want to let go of you.

You gulped as his erection sprang free. It didn't matter how many times you had seen it, the size surprised you every time.

He watched intently as you wrapped your hands around him, giving him a few strokes. Both of your hands still weren't quite enough to grasp all of him.

"Shit…", he muttered under his breath as you ran your tongue across his entire length before wrapping your lips around him.

"So fucking beautiful."

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze as you took him as far as your throat allowed you, bobbing your head and coating him in your spit.

"Always so good for me.", he said, you knew even from just seeing his eyes that there was still a smile on his lips.

His eyes fell shut as you moved your hands again, twisting around his shaft as your tongue circled the head of his cock.

"You're so perfect."

One of his hands grabbed a fistful of your hair, not using it to move you, just to have a grasp on you.

He let you set your own pace, just watching you, quiet moans escaping his lips.

You gagged as he hit the back of your throat, too big for him to take all of him.

“I’m sorry, Baby. You’re doing so well.”, he said quietly, the strain obvious in his voice. “But I need to fuck you so badly.”

You nodded as you got back on your feet, legs a little shaky, thinking of what would be next.

He pushed you onto the bed with a gentle shove.

You watched in awe as he gave his cock a few pumps before crawling onto the bed with you, towering over you in both height and size.

“Open your legs for me, Maus.”, he said softly, smiling as you followed his order immediately. There was a bit of embarrassment of baring yourself to him like that, but it subsided almost immediately when he crawled on top of you, fingers gently teasing the hem of your panties.

With a smooth tug he pulled them down your legs, discarding them.

His fingers were back under your skirt immediately, parting your folds.

“Shit…”, he hummed, his masked lips pressed to your neck. “So wet for me already… You enjoy sucking me off that much, hm?” Your eyes had fallen shut, cheeks bright red at his teasing, but you nodded.

“Such a good girl… And just for me.”

You gasped as two of his fingers entered you, curling up to give you the maximal amount of stimulation he could.

“Just for you.”, you echoed.

He had been right about how much it turned you on to please him. You loved his taste, the way he felt, the noises you were able to draw out of him with your lips, your tongue, your hands.

But most of all you loved the way he spoke to you, the way he praised you.

It drove you insane and it made you always do your very best to gain his approval.

You whined as he drew his fingers out of you, slipping his hand under his mask so he could taste you.

“You taste like fucking honey.”, he said quietly before he was on top of you again, lifting his mask so he could kiss your neck, sucking your skin hard enough that you knew there would be bruises tomorrow morning. You’d have to find a way to cover them up if you wanted to leave your room.

He chuckled as he heard you moan.

“Do you want me, Schatz?”, he asked quietly. You knew that he knew your answer, but he wanted to tease you, wanted to make you say it

“Yes.” “How badly? Use your words.”

His hand slipped between his legs, grabbing his cock and dragging it through your slit, gathering your wetness on his tip.

“Please… Please, König, I need you. I need you so badly, I-”

You were cut off when he finally thrust forward. You had to bite back a quiet whine as you felt the ache of being filled by him. It always took you a moment to get used to his size.

“So good… So good for me. Look at how well you’re taking me, mein Engel.”

His lips were still on your neck, kissing you, sometimes biting down slightly.

For a moment he just held still until he could feel you relax under him. You gasped as he slowly started to shift, drawing himself out of you and then fucking back inside of you, mumbled words of praise on his lips as he did.

“Fuck… Fuck, you feel so good.”

He slowly picked up the pace, slamming into you until you couldn’t hold back your moans anymore, desperate noises escaping you with every thrust.

He knew the perfect balance between not hurting you, but also being rough enough to make your mind go blank.

“Touch yourself for me, Baby. I want you to come around my cock."

You followed his command without question, of course you did. Your fingers circled your clit, making you see white as you did.

“König-” “What is it, honey?” He pushed himself upwards so you could look him in the eyes, the mask smoothly falling over his face again.

“Feels so good.” “I know, Baby, I know.” His pace was brutal and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release, your breath coming in stutters.

“You’re doing so, so well for me. And I want you to come for me, okay?”

You didn’t know whether it was him getting even slightly rougher with your body, your fingers on your clit or his words, but you cried out as your orgasm came over you, tightening around him.

“Good girl, such a good girl.”

Your hands desperately grasped his arms, seeking something to hold onto as he chased his own orgasm.

“Please-” You didn’t even know what you wanted to say, the overstimulation of still being fucked by him through your orgasm making you almost dizzy.

On one hand you wanted to squirm out of his grasp to escape that ache in your core, on the other you wanted him to continue forever, until you couldn’t form a single coherent thought anymore.

“Scheiße, Baby, I am… So close. I think I’m going to… Oh fuck-” His thrusts became erratic as he came with a growl, coming as deeply inside of you as he could.

You moaned as you could feel him fill you, warmth pooling between your legs.

He groaned as he came down from his orgasm, pulling you close to his chest, holding you against him, your body against his. Your face was buried in the fabric of his mask, desperate to catch your breath.

“So good for me, every single time.”

#König x reader #cod könig x reader #könig fanfiction #cod x reader #ari writes #KT 2023 #cod fanfiction #i'm sorry if there's grammatical errors or anything like that #i have a headache so i can't promise my proofreading was any good

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