#sure?? god every time this gets harder to do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

melrodrigo · 15 hours

Text

friends? p.2

Cairo Sweet x Fem Reader

Summary: A rivalry between you and Cairo has been going on for several months…what does it take for her to finally break?

Warnings: there r literally none they bicker like an old couple and cairos mean

Word Count: 2k+

A/n: helloooo i’m not sure abt this chapter but lmk what u thought, i cranked this out in its entirety last night, enjoy!

part 1

Friendship was not Cairo Sweet's strong suit. Ask her about Dickinson or Austen or Shakespeare—these were all things she could answer. But the ultimate question of friendship was not something hot on Cairo's mind.

She didn't need it, that was her take. And why would she waste time on something she didn't need?

Friends, much less a partner, was something she never saw for herself. The thought of being a housewife, living in a picture-perfect picket fence house, appalled her. The only things that mattered were her, her writing, and Yale.

So when a certain girl had entered her life, she hated it.

You.

You with your stupid face, and pretty hair, she hated you. A burning passion so intense it heated up her heart and made it race. So intense that she wanted to punch you in the face whenever you passed, only to bandage it up with feather light touches so she could punch you again harder.

At first it was nothing; she didn't have a thing to worry about. A blushing face while you stammered and fumbled around trying to give Mr. Miller an answer, she disregarded you as someone she could respect immediately.

But obviously she had caught you on a bad day, because after those first few weeks, you managed to present yourself in a less idiotic way.

You were, surprisingly smart.

Almost too smart, she pondered. It was getting in the way of her own studies. How could it be, that someone was on bar (never better) than her?

Often she found herself seething at you, arguing at every chance she had with your answers; but, you had given her the same treatment as well.

It wasn't strange for your classes to end in heated debate, both sides failing to yield. It bothered her greatly. She went back home and read more than she'd ever read before, studied just a few minutes longer because she could feel you taunting her.

"Sweet." You nodded, as she pushed open the doors to Millers class. You'd made it a habit to arrive early, leaving only you and her for a good thirty minutes before everyone else arrived.

It was infuriating. To have you so close, open, ready to harm, yet she could do nothing. She'd been having a particularly grueling week. Her parents had just come back from Brazil; and, always seemed to be ready to go at her throat. Gone were her lonely but comforting nights on her bed, candle-lit. Now it was just fights and condescending jabs.

"What did you get on the paper?" Your voice piped up, breaking her from her train of thought. You were referring to the paper Mr.Miller had given back last week, one that counted for forty percent of the grade.

She felt a swell of pride. Scores were something she could argue about. This would take off the stress she'd been building.

"99." She smirked, cocking her head to the side.

You whistled approval, nodding adamantly. Even though there was nothing to suggest so, she could swear she felt condescension in your tone.

She was good at picking out stuff like that. The roll of someone's tongue, the way they smack their lips—it all meant something to her.

She pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes. "What did you get?" She asked, brows furrowed.

You didn't say anything, simply holding up a finger and mouthing 'one hundo' and watched as disbelief took over her features.

"You're fucking lying." She seethed. Her good mood had suddenly disappeared just as fast as it had appeared.

You spun around in your seat, stupid smile on your face. God, she wanted to jump at you and claw it off.

"Hey, hey, it's okay to be mad. You can't be the best at everything." You told her, hands behind your head.She gripped the desk harder, knuckles turning a faint white.

She stood up, walking over to your desk."You little shi-"

"Good morning, the both of you!" Mr.Miller interrupted, cheery smile. His enthusiasm radiated off his body like rays radiated from the sun. He stopped short when he saw Cairo stalking close to you, a clear pout on her face.

"What are you doing?" He asked, question directed towards her, voice sickly sweet. He had grown fond of Cairo since the beginning of the term; she was his favorite student.

"I'd like her to be removed from the class. Can't you do that Mr.Miller?" She avoided his question, tilting her face at an angle where her chocolate colored eyes shone bright.

His white brows furrowed, not quite comprehending. "You mean," He started, "right now...?"

Bless him, he had no clue how manipulative Cairo was.

She doesn't let up, doesn't let her disappointment show. You notice it in the slight clench of her jaw--she's annoyed.

"I meant for the rest of the term, I can't stand being in the same class as her." She emphasized her words with a glare in your direction. You send her a sweet smile back.

"Please, flattery will get you nowhere." You winked, smile turning into a real one when you see her get visibly agitated.

"Please, girls. Let's be civil here all right?" Mr.Miller pipes up, trying to stand in between Cairo and you. It does nothing to lessen the tension in the air.

He turns slightly to Cairo, voice firm. "And no...I won't kick Y/N out."

The childish part of you desperately wants to fist pump the air; but, the more serious side of you decides maybe you shouldn't do that in the company of your arch nemesis.

Class turns weird fast. Cairo—normally quick and adamant—stays quiet, seemingly distracted by the simplest of things: a bird singing softly from a window, the great big forests where her house stood, the sound of your feet continuing to scrape against the carpet.

It irks you a little. It has you not listening in class, wanting to focus on the girl in front of you.

You almost don't hear it when Miller announces that you'll be working in pairs for the midterm project, preoccupied with her bobbling head, moving as if she were listening to some imaginary music.

"You will not be able to pick your own partner, that's already been done for...by me." He adds, after hearing the onslaught of voices from the students. It's clear he's not changing his mind.

"Alright. When I call your names, go sit with your pair and discuss how you'll do the assignment. Olivia, Taylor." He calls out the first pair, going down (what seems like) an endless list of names, never quite getting to yours.

You watch as countless people move around, silently looking out for who hasn't been called yet. You needed to get a good grade on this, and a lazy partner was going to be a nightmare.

You strain your ears to hear Mr.Miller over the commotion of students moving, but when you turn to squint at him you're surprised to see he's already looking at you.

A sinking feeling eats your entire being whole as you watch his mouth move. He points his finger at you, then someone in front of you.

Cairo Sweet.

Fuck.

Even though you loved to tease her, you did not need to have Cairo Sweet as your partner. She was likely to ruin you before you even got to starting the thing.

You don't make the first move to get up, instead you sit dumbly in your chair, bracing yourself.

Your peace is disrupted by a huff from above you. There she is.

"Move over. I need a seat." She says, something in her voice making you oblige. She pulls over an extra chair and sits by the other end of the table.

"You can come closer ya know." You say, unsure of how friendly to be. You'd only ever really spoke with her from a distance, a comfortable distance. Now that she's up in your personal space you feel ike you're going to suffocate.

She ignores you, pursing her lips as she listens to Miller explain the project.

You inch your chair closer, prepared to make a sly jab at the way she's being a teachers pet, but her stare—which has now been redirected on you—stops you in your tracks. She looks scary.

Lips downturned, nostrils flaring, you're a bit taken aback.

"Okay jeez. You don't have to be such an ass about it." You mumble, distancing yourself a great deal further than you already were. The mood, if it weren't enough already, turns more sour.

She ignores your suggestions and remarks on how to do the project, scribbling something down on to her notepad every now and then.

"Earth to you, Sweet. Are you listening to me?" You press, starting to feel those tendrils of annoyance grabbing you. It was one thing to be an ass, but to put her own feelings above doing good work was low, even for her.

Especially for her, you think.

"Do you ever shut up?" She growls, biting her cheeks so hard you could see the indent it was making on the outside.

"Okayyy...someone's obviously going through something, but can we just-" You gesture to the sheet of paper on the table, you haven't even been allowed to look at what she's written yet.

"I am NOT going through something." She says again, voice cracking. The sound brings forth a peculiar reaction in you, your mouth hanging open. Her eyes look...watery.

Before you can utter a word she's getting up and storming out the classroom, making heads turn left and right at the loud noise.

"Um...I'll be right back too." You say, sending Mr.Miller a cheeky smile and a wink, hoping that'll lessen his curiousity enough to not come out after the two of you.

You push open the doors, call Cairos' name a couple times.

You eventually find her outside, back pressed against the brick wall. She's lighting up a cigarette.

Her body language looks more calm now, but you're not sure what to do. You shuffle on your feet, twiddling your thumbs.

"Sorry I did that." She speaks, not turning to look at you. It startles you a bit, you hadn't realized she saw you.

"Cairo Sweet saying sorry? I must be dreaming." You try, although you're not smiling and she doesn't laugh. Humor seems to be sucked away in this little bubble belonging to only the two of you.

You move a little closer, then even closer when Cairo doesn't object. Even though you did hate her to the bone, you wanted to make sure she was okay.

"Are you...alright?" You ask softly, watching her face for an answer. She seems to be deep in thought.

She takes a swing from her cigarette and blows. "I don't like you." Is what she says.

The ice breaks. You no longer feel like you're supposed to pity her. This was Cairo Sweet, her heart was made of coal.

"Yeah I think we established that. Anything else?" You sigh, leaning back so you're also pressed up against the wall.

She turns to you, and for the first time, she doesn't seem very mad.

"I don't like you." She says again, moving closer. It's in your natural instinct to step back, why was she being so weird? Was she going to hurt you?

She grips your shoulder lightly, enough for you to get the message to stay still.

"I don't like you." Cairo mutters for the third time, eyes piercing into yours. She seems to be speaking a little lower, a little raspier than normal. Cogs seem to be turning in her head, debating and debating and debating.

Debating on what you can't be certain.

"I get it, you don't like me. So what?" You mummur, voice lower than normal. The proximity is making your mind feel a little clouded.

You try not to let your gaze drift down to her lips, but when there's nothing around to distract yourself with, they do.

Her freckles, the ones that litter her face. You get the disgusting urge to touch them.

"So...don't get the wrong idea." She says before taking your lips in a kiss.

It takes you a second to comprehend what's really happening. You stand frigid, mouth parting to gasp. You're gasp is swallowed by her own lips, soft and supple.

Once Cairo feels that you aren't responding, she pulls away, frightened look on her face. Pink lips downturned, her cheeks a rosy red. You don't have time to process what the right move is. For now, you don't need Cairo thinking you didn't like whatever that was.

You reach for her neck, pull her in for a second kiss. It's somehow better than the first. She responds quick, hands wandering to cup your face, then down to circle your waist, then up to tangle in your hair—like she's changing her own mind too quick.

You let her take the lead, pressing you into the wall with a strength you didn't know she possessed.

You're too lost in it all, the smell of her shampoo, the feeling of her teeth scraping your lips, biting down only the slightest, her fingers burning traces wherever they go.

"Sweet." You breathe, coming out more like a soft moan than you would've liked.

She breaks apart from you, a wild mess. You think she's never looked prettier, hair everywhere, lips torn from your heated kisses.

Her eyes are soft until they flash and something else takes over. It's as if your voice had brought her back to life.

"I don't like you." She snarls, and promptly turns on her heels, just a slight increase in speed than her normal strut.

You're left breathless, staring out into the green plains. Mind and heart racing, you're not sure which organ you should listen to.

The implication of what you did hits you like a freight train. You groan and press your hands to your head, willing and willing and willing for a solution to come out of it.

Not to anyones surprise, nothing comes. A magic fairy doesn't tell you what to do, and you're still standing behind school panting.

"Oh god."

#cairo sweet x reader #cairo sweet #millers girl #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #melrodrigo #mine #enemies to lovers

142 notes · View notes

jflemings · 11 hours

Text

— let the light in [p2]

pairing: jessie fleming x reader part 1

synopsis: jessie’s point of view

warnings: angsty as fuck lol, mentions of depression & it’s symptoms

jessie had never been more furious and sad at the same time. watching you walk out of her place with a bag containing your things slung over your shoulder after she had pleaded with you to let her help, was one of the most heartbreaking things she’s ever had to go through.

despite your reluctance to tell her, she knew what you were going through. she guessed that you weren’t maybe telling her the whole truth about how you were really feeling and she made it her mission to help in any way you would let her. she spoke with chelsea’s psychologist about how to help you, you read self-help books and read articles upon articles but you were slipping faster than she could reach for you.

“maybe it’s for the best” niamh says gently, rubbing her hand up and down jessie’s back soothingly.

the canadian stands abruptly “no! god no, niamh, don’t you get it? she’s sick — really fucking sick — and she won’t let me help!” jessie confides as tears begin to flood her waterline “i just want to help. all i’ve ever wanted was to help”

niamh’s face cracks with guilt and sorrow. she’d watched the guilt eat her friend alive for too long now, never quite understanding why she stayed with you for so long. even when questioned, jessie kept her cards close to her chest. her teammates saw her go in and out of the psychologist’s office, look up easy to make but nutritious recipes, skim through articles about how to love someone with depression, but never had she outright said that something was wrong.

“jess you can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped” niamh points out delicately “and you can’t make her open up to you if she doesn’t want to”

jessie sighs and sits back down on the couch with head head placed firmly in her hands “i don’t understand what i’ve done wrong. i don’t understand why she won’t just talk to me”

niamh grabs jessie and guides her to her chest as she cries, her tears soaking the front of the lioness’s jumper. the canadian’s hands clutch at the soft fabric and she burrows her face into niamh’s grounding embrace “i’m so worried about her” she sobs harder “she– she lives alone and there’s no one to look out for her, or to make sure she’s taking care of herself”

“jessie it’s not your responsibility to baby her. she’s an adult” niamh says “why didn’t you tell us?”

“because you were all telling me to leave her!” jessie loudly exclaims, pulling herself up “every single one of you told me that it wasn’t worth it, that i deserve better”

the midfielder’s face is red and blotchy, tears cascading down her freckled cheeks as she further works herself up. “there is nothing i wouldn’t do for her, niamh, i’ve never loved someone the way i love her”

— —

when jessie tries to call you to tell you she’s coming to collect her things, it goes straight to voicemail. she gets left on read when she texts you but that’s better than nothing so she takes it as the small win it is and gets dressed in a hoodie of hers you like and a pair of jeans she plucks off the top of her clean laundry. nerves settle in the bottom of her stomach on the drive over and only get worse when she takes the elevator to your floor. there’s a brown box outside your door with her name written on it in bold, black permanent marker and she frowns.

the thought of not actually seeing you after she’s been making herself sick with worry causes her to pause. on one hand, you aren’t responding so she doesn’t even know if you’re alright, but on the other there’s a box at her feet with her stuff in it, so at the very least jessie knows you’re conscious. she nervously bites the skin around the thumbnail before knocking on your door three times and waiting, bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously before stopping in fear that you’re looking at her through the peephole.

to her disappointment, you don’t come to the door. she picks up her belongings carefully and hangs her head low, trying not to be too disappointed. she runs into one of your neighbours that she’s met a few times when she’s had to leave early for training and sends her a kind smile.

the older woman notices the box in jessie’s hands and frowns “i was wonderin’ why i haven’t been seein’ you around lately” she says in her thick northern accent.

jessie hums “yeah it’s uhh… it’s a bit different” she cringes at herself, stepping aside so the older woman — shelley, she remembers — can get onto the elevator before her. shelley tuts and pushes her glasses up her nose as they fall.

“i hope it all works out for ya, she’s a sweet girl. a bit lost, maybe, but sweet”

all jessie can do is nod as the elevator stops two floors below your own “i’m about to beat caroline’s ass in cards” shelley grins cheekily as she steps out “bye jessie”

the canadian lifts her knee to steady the box whilst she takes one hand out from underneath it to offer a polite wave “bye shelley” she says as she watches the doors close on her again.

the drive back to her apartment feels slower then it actually it. worry clouds jessie’s mind like a plague, the thought of you wasting away, alone and in your apartment making her sick.

through your relationship she really tried to show you how much she adored you. whether it was bringing you lunch when you were at work, buying a bouquet of ‘just because’ flowers or simply just telling you how much she loved you.

it was one of her favourite things, telling you she loved you. she had uncharacteristically said it first one day when you dropped off her boots to her at training when she had forgotten them, giving you a kiss quickly before running off to avoid being late. that night the two of you were sitting on her couch eating dinner and watching trashy reality tv when you quietly asked her about it.

“penny for your thoughts?” jessie asks you as she watches you stare off into space.

you quickly snap out of your daze and shake your head “it’s nothing”

she knocks your shoulders together “c’mon, what’s up?”

nervously, you move the food on your pate around with your fork aimlessly. you can’t look jessie in the eye and out of worry, she places her dinner on the coffee table and sits up straighter “are you okay?”

you suck in a deep breath “when you, uhm… when you told me you loved me today, did you mean that?”

jessie’s brain short circuits and she thinks back to when she saw you this morning. her confession makes the blood rush to her cheeks and she nervously plays with the hem of her old ucla shirt.

she sees the way you’re still avoiding her gaze and places her hand over yours, stopping you from playing with your meal. you look at her with tight lips and wide eyes as you await her answer, your leg bouncing like you’re ready to bolt.

“of course i meant it” she assures softly, placing her hand on your cheek “it slipped out, yeah, but i meant it all the same”

you nod and slightly turn away from her, placing your own dinner on the coffee table next to hers. your lack of reaction begins to make jessie nervous. was it too soon? did you feel the same? has she just made it awkward?

“you don’t have to say it back!” the midfielder rushes “if you don’t feel the same you absolutely do not have to say it back. i would never expect you to if—”

“i love you” you mumble, cutting off her rambling.

jessie’s heart beats out of her chest and her head spins so much she’s dizzy. you were relatively affectionate and you had no problem dishing out compliments and praise, but there were times when you couldn’t really receive it.

the canadian softly smiles and immediately wraps her arms around you, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and she pulls you into her. you giggle as she falls back into the couch, the wide smile on your face everlasting.

“i love you” jessie mumbles back to you “so much”

——

jessie sighs at hearing the knocking from her front door. not only was she not in the mood to see anyone, she was kind of hoping to spend the rest of her day off cuddled up on her couch with the book she’s been meaning to finish. she stays where she is for a moment to see if whoever it is will go away, only to get four more louder knocks in return.

she throws the blanket off herself and shivers as her bare feet hit the cold floor. she all but throws open the door with a frown on her face, quickly being surprised by a woman she doesn’t recognise standing in front of her. she adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder and shifts her weight between her feet slightly.

“jessie fleming?” she asks

the canadian nods “yeah. can i help you?”

the brunette woman sighs with relief “i’m casey taylor, i work with y/n”

dread crashes over jessie and her hand tightens on the doorknob. “do you want to come in?” she asks stepping aside.

casey puts her hand up in protest “no i was just wondering if you’ve seen her lately? i know you two are—”

“we broke up” she interjects quickly “but she wasn’t too good the last time i saw her”

casey purses her lips and nods her head “right. okay. sorry for just turning up like this” she pauses in contemplation. “it’s just that i didn’t have your number and i only have your address because i had to pick y/n up from here once” she rushes, clearly recognising how weird the situation is.

jessie nods as she recalls the memory of the two of you standing on the street, her dressed in ratty old pyjamas and you dressed in your work slacks and knitted sweater. you had been running around jessie’s apartment half dressed whilst simultaneously brushing your teeth and doing your hair absolutely stressed out of your mind. jessie simply watched you run around as she packed you lunch and ironed your shirt, the feeling of domestic bliss lasting well until after you had kissed her quickly and rushed out her front door.

casey clicks her tongue “that’s all good though! i’ll just get going” the brunette turns to walk away, her kitten heels clicking on the pavement underneath her.

“casey!” jessie calls once she gets her wits about her, shaking the memory and following the woman down to her car “you didn’t come all the way here to just ask if i’ve seen her. what’s going on?”

“…we’re just worried. she’s out of sick leave and my boss wants to call the police to do a welfare check but i told her that i’d come to you first” she hesitates, fidgeting with her key chain in her hand “it’s not been this bad before” casey mumbles.

the midfielder sucks in a breath as her stomach drops. the out of character behaviour from you stirs something deep in her and she furrows her brows “i’ll go see her” she says before thinking “just let me… just let me see if i can talk to her, okay?”

casey’s reluctance is written all over her face but she must see something in jessie’s eyes that has her softening. she continues to fiddle with her keys before looking at her watch and then back to jess “okay” she says before fishing a pen and piece of paper out of her purse “please call me and let me know how she is, or get her to call me” she pleads whilst scribbling down her number.

jessie nods “of course i will”

#pegs woso #pegs writes #jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming blurb #jessie fleming angst #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso angst

54 notes · View notes

shadow1515 · 2 days

Text

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for.

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead.

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you.

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion.

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you.

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying.

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue.

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything.

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this.

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.”

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could.

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it.

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you’re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.”

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face.

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves.

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again.

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face.

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you.

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately.

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again.

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.”

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault.

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin.

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable.

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip.

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen.

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips.

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level.

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses.

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you.

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing.

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?”

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper.

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt.

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace.

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin.

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him.

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you.

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out.

#dark!fic #shadow writes #fallout show #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #pls read the warnings #minors dni #also i am very scared to post this here...#so if it gets taken down at some point that's why #you can find it on ao3 tho

49 notes · View notes

m1d-45 · 9 months

Text

second chances

summary: baizhu knows he isn’t your favorite, but he still finds himself hoping for the impossible. maybe, with enough prayer, he’ll get it.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: major spoilers for baizhu story quest + lore + liyue archon quest, based on me and my experience (vaguely disliked baizhu at first due to partial information, immediately changed my mind w his quest and now adores him, doesn’t have kirara)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and unspecified traveller (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

baizhu knows he isn’t the most favored.

from the first moment the traveller set foot in his office, he knew. he wasn’t met with anything special, no big flair from his god when you first saw him. it was to be expected, with how much time he spent praying—could gods have regulars?

it was simple. a quick ‘oh, the snake talks?’ thrown his way, a comment or two about his choice of outfit or the jade pendant hanging off his vision, and that was that. mostly, you seemed preoccupied with qiqi and the funeral parlor’s consultant, something to be expected. he was a quick stop on your journey, a note in the margins about the doctor you met at the pharmacy. it made sense, of course, that you’d be occupied with the death of rex lapis during the failed rite of descension, and the return of osial and beisht surely took priority over him. he offered little, only a dialogue or two actually shared between him and the traveller when you were present. he’d gathered as much of his energy, saved it for your arrival to make a good impression, so… it made sense you’d fret over qiqi, constantly forgetful as she was.

it made sense. he’d… made his peace. he had more to worry about, surely, what with orders to fulfill and his own condition to manage. maybe not more important—never, not maybe, what was he thinking?—but certainly more.

when your attention on qiqi flared, spurred by some unknown whim, he delighted a bit in being close to her, even if your thoughts on him weren’t entirely positive.

it was fair. you liked qiqi, and were concerned. it made sense you didn’t know every detail of teyvat, and since he’s never had the chance to come to you and spell out his story directly, it made sense you’d make some assumptions.

“i guess that makes sense, but still… qiqi deserves better.”

she probably did, in truth, but hearing it from you…

he’s had his vision for years by this point. he’s hd it for as long as he’d had changsheng, to be exact, and she was always able to remind him of exactly how long that had been.

“ssseven yearsss, four monthsss, thirteen daysss, and counting…”

“ah… thank you, changsheng.”

he knew he wasn’t special. out of the thousands of vision wielders across teyvat, only a handful have started having their constellations appear in the sky. just under a hundred, by his approximation, but he tried not to count. if he sought out the proper numbers, tried to pin down a percentage of those with a vision that had a chance to hold their god’s attention, then he’d start trying to find patterns. he was a doctor, patterns and rhythms were his literal job, but he knew that wouldn’t end well.

(a librarian, an alchemist, a lawyer: did you perhaps favor more studious types? a bartender, an exorcist, a detective: or those with a drive in their lives? a nobody, a traveller, a wandering samurai: or those seeking one out for themselves?)

there wasn’t a pattern. it was random. and part of him hated it.

baizhu had had his vision for seven years, eight months, and thirteen (was it fourteen? the sky was growing dark) days, and had never once seen his stars in the sky.

he had one. he had a constellation, something he knew was rare among vision wielders, but it didn’t guarantee him a spot in the sky any time soon. kirara had hers long before she had her chance in the heavens—they’d spoken about that, both hesitant to show the other their divine gift, but willing to speak of its existence.

and now kirara’s turn had passed. though her vision didn’t shine any brighter, he could see the pride in her smile when she dropped off another delivery at the pharmacy. sign here, check these, make sure this is what you ordered, goodbye have a good day, pretend like yours doesn’t weigh more after seeing hers.

it wasn’t as if he was unremarkable. a perfectly healthy man who had thrown himself into illness to find the cure for all of them? surely that was interesting, wasn’t it? but it wasn’t his time, he was being impatient, slipping back to the same mindset he condemned his patients for.

“patience. medicine doesn’t work in an instant, and you’ll need to be taking this for the next week at minimum.”

“but it’s so bitter!”

“then tell me, what tastes worse: bile, or this pill? if you want to stop being sick, you need to take it.”

patience.

qiqi was blessed with a place in the stars near instantly after she’d gotten her vision, but she was not the norm. perhaps his expectations were weighted, then? or maybe you disliked his work entirely? he didn’t like entertaining what ifs, but when various aches kept him up, there was little else he could do while he waited for his medication to take effect. patience, he tried to remind himself, counting his breaths. be patient. wait, be calm, don’t agitate yourself. count in, count out, are your breaths getting shorter? just stay calm, be patient…

the first time he saw you, he knew you were coming. he’d saved as much energy as he could, doing his best to make a good impression. but now, with changsheng nudging him awake urgently, pushing him into his shoes and putting his glasses on for him, the first thing he’d expected was the millelith, maybe, or perhaps the ministry of civil affairs. maybe he was needed urgently, maybe something had happened to qiqi, maybe he was late for his medication and he’d get terrible headaches if he wasn’t quick- oh, but then why would she bother to coil around his shoulders?

and yet, out of all those possibilities, none were correct.

“hey! who’s talking about me behind my back?”

“changsheng, qiqi meant that as a compliment. there’s no need to be upset.”

it had been so long since he’d felt your light, far longer since he’d been properly healthy. he’d forgotten how it felt to walk without the dull ache in his joints, and yet here he was. standing by gui and a familiar looking child, speaking with your traveller. it was easy to say words he didn’t choose, his throat not getting dry despite the lack of his morning tea.

the quest was long, and by the end he should have been exhausted. between taking on jialiang’s sickness to turning him into a zombie, he should have been out of commission for the next few days. as it was he had a nasty cough, his breath coming shorter than typical… but that was it. he took his regular medication at the dinner with your traveller, the linger of your aura on them still seeming to dull his pains. how curious, that you could cure ailments even he couldn’t name anymore…

“baizhu, are you alright?” idly, he wondered if the traveller noticed the change in their voice when they were speaking for you. it always sounded a bit lighter, a bit of your emotions bleeding through… a pity he’d never know why. “today must have been taxing for you…”

all eyes were on him now, even qiqi’s. “i’m doing fine,” he said simply, taking another sip of his tea. “better than normal, if anything, which i have to owe to our guest.”

paimon still seemed nervous. “but what about when we leave? what if everything hits you all at once? normally you stay at the pharmacy, and using your power so much…”

a fair assessment. while he was no stranger to combat, to be thrown in the middle of a pack of such vicious hilichurls was a shock. still, he had made it through—even if, privately, he doubted it would have been so clean without you there. “i will be fine. even if my condition declines, i am well equipped to handle flare ups.”

it seemed the whole group was hesitant to let him go. changsheng insisted he stay up until three hours had past since the traveller left, when his limbs again felt heavy and his head began to hurt. something odd was stirring in his chest, and he was eager to get to bed before it sparked into anything more. it was reasonable, he knew, but there were only so many prescriptions to prepare before he had nothing left to do. gui had long since went to bed, leaving just him in the lobby of the pharmacy, quietly double checking his stock of herbs.

eventually, he stood from his seat, returning the sweet flowers to their proper place. he held up an hand to let changsheng climb up his arm, closing up the pharmacy. she curled around his shoulders twice, a familiar weight. the night was cool, a slight breeze bumping the chain of his glasses against his cheek. it had been a long few days, and he was happy that everything was settled. he’d done all he could for jialiang, and he and his family hopefully wouldn’t be coming back for quite some time. back to routine…

“…baizhu?”

he checked the lock with a quick tug, “yes? what is it?”

“the ssstarsss… they’re due, aren’t they?”

ah. the cycles of constellations, switching through the sky. if he thought about it.. yes, they were, weren’t they?

“by my memory, they are. why?”

her head was turned, looking off to the part of the sky not obscured by the roof of the pharmacy.

“…changsheng-“

“look.”

“it’s late.” his heart began to pick up, false hopes being raised. patience, he chided himself, but what follower did not wish for acknowledgment from their god? “we should go to sleep before we fall too far out of schedule.”

“baizhu! i know you have better sssenses than that.”

perhaps he did. his vision burned where it was clipped to his side, invisible vines creeping up toward his heart. “don’t be too hasty,” he said quietly, the words tasting as bitter as his pills.

don’t be too hasty. you could still be wrong. don’t get your hopes up. be patient.

one hand went to his hip, undoing the clasp of his vision, the other settling on the railing. a few clouds dotted the sky, but he lifted his vision anyway, searching for any stars tinted green.

everything happened at once. the terrace was replaced with an ocean of skies, the slight mumble of “i do have a guaranteed…” getting lost in the whirlwind around him. he was weightless, trapped in by an invisible box, only dimly aware of the fact that his pain had once again disappeared. he was floating, dressed in the attire he normally saved for formal events—dressed in what he’d put on when you’d first arrived—with no sight of the pharmacy below him. it was just him and changsheng, him and changsheng and the bright light that came from everywhere, lifting him from his unseen prison.

a laugh, a smile, a rush of power flooding through him, and when he next set foot in front of the pharmacy, he did so with a new gleam to his vision. he could hear a door open behind him—qiqi, if he had to guess, as why wouldn’t she be drawn to the power the adepti could only hope to imitate?—but couldn’t turn, breathless.

“welcome home, doc.. it’s good to see you.”

it had taken seven years, four months, and 25 days, but he was here. and it was more than he could have ever asked for.

709 notes · View notes

arsenicflame · 3 months

Text

every time i get to ride a high i think 'oh maybe i can try and do this' and inevitably a couple days later i crash and burn and get reminded of exactly why i was thinking that way in the first place

#you would think i would learn but no. every single fucking time i wonder if there's a reality where i get to feel normal all the time #nyxtalks #vent #posts i make when any of the people who pay attention to me are asleep so they dont get worried #idk besties its slipping through my fingers again #specifically triggering section >#im so mad at myself for last weekend #ive made it so much harder but i have to fucking try something #the things ive said id never do again are sounding really good. contacting a sounds promising. its all i can think about again #its. so rough here n i feel like i should pre apologise to everyone for any mess this weekq #end. im gonna try n not drag people into it but god knows im a mess #ok. silence now. no more of this #sorry im sure yourw fed up of this; imaginary person reading this far. god knows i am

5 notes · View notes

dolltwink · 1 year

Text

Vent post.

So I found out I probably need a walker.

internalized ableism in tags but I'm going to clarify that this is only directed to myself and I think other disabled people are cool as hell and none of the things im describing myself with. No disrespect is intended to people who are going through similar things as me, you're strong and cool as hell. Its just different if its to myself. Please do not take this out of context, its a personal vent post describing myself and applies to no one else. Thank you.

Cw for: ableism, internalized ableism, small addiction mention.

#god i feel so fucking pathetic.#i dont think i deserve one. im not in *enough* pain.#i still have days where i can move unassisted without pain.#so i feel so fucking pathetic for feeling like i need one. im not in enough pain to justify it.#but at the same time it hurts. it hurts so much. every step hurts. every movement hurts so much and its getting harder every day.#but. its not ALL the time so i should just shut up and deal with it.#im trying to do thought excercises with my boyfriend right now and its helping. him saying stuff like #'if someone else was in your situation would you think they would need a cane or walker?' and my answer is yes of course.#and it is making me feel better but at the same time i just feel so feeble and helpless in my own body.#i need help. i need help so much. but theres also other disabled people who are in much more pain than me.#so why should i think i deserve extra help when other people have it so much worse. i'm *lucky* i'm not in as much pain as other #disabled people.#i feel like i should just count my blessings and deal with the pain. but. it hurts. it hurts so much every day. and i dont know what to do.#i cant actually get help until i move out of my dad's place since. he'd kick me out since he thinks i'm going to end up like my mom.#lying to get drugs and moving on to harder non medical substances. but. thats not what i want to do.#in fact ive told every doctor ive had about my family's addiction history. all of my medicine for my depression and anxiety are on #low doses they give to people who are pregnant to make sure theres no chance i get addicted or too dependent on the medicine. and like.#the one time i didnt get that was from post-surgery pain medicine my doctor described. a highly addictive intoxicant. but.#it only made me paranoid and afraid and it made me sooo scared. i hate the feeling of being intoxicated. it horrifies me.#but he'll still kick me out if i get help and i have nowhere to go.#so im just trapped. and im in so much pain. but its getting so hard to be a person. but because i live with him and hear him every day #im internalizing it so much. clearly i have to be faking right? how dare i claim to need all of this when there's actual disabled people #who actually need help #god.#im so pathetic.#i don't like how i am. i hate myself for wanting help i havent *earned*.#and i know. i know that's stupid. and if i met another person in as much pain im in i'd definitely say they need a walker and/or cane and #that they deserve to get the help they need to live their life.#but its me. so its different.

2 notes · View notes

slvttyplum · 3 months

Text

suguru throwing his hair in a bun before you two fuck and when he gets worked up takes it down.

his hair would be stuck to his forehead and his eyebrows will be furrowed trying to focus in on what he’s doing.

his hair changed four times throughout the rounds, and it gets sexier each and every single time.

even between strokes he’s throwing his hair in a bum or letting it down, he thinks it’s his focus point.

if he’s randomly putting his hair up between an action or putting it down, he’s about to go even harder and make sure you’re getting pleasure.

you truly believe that it makes a difference in his fucking because of the full focal point in what he’s doing.

he’s giving you everything he has and he’s never going to stop, it’ll switch in a particular pattern.

for example if he’s eating your pussy and really wants to get in there then he’s of course going to have his hair in a bun.

if he’s fucking you missionary then it’s still going to be in a bun because you want to see that god sculptured face.

if he’s hitting it from the back then he’s going let down his hair because he really needs that breather for his hair when he’s concentrating.

it’s so sexy when he’s switching from his different signature styles just to fuck you and fuck you good.

one hand on neck one hand on ass and he’s going to work, you won’t even know what hit you, you’re getting the wind fucked out of you.

it’s so unfair he gets to look good while he’s inside you and effortlessly, it’s really a gift from above.

9K notes · View notes

pigaletta · 6 months

Text

#Being in vet med is so damn bleak all the time because whenever you get hope there's always some drawback that basically nullifies it.#looking for a clinical pg with rank 183 in the country but whoops can't go to your own state #and other states universities will put you in a college in buttfuck nowhere rather than their best ones #like...I am so fucking tired. Every time I try to fight my depression something comes back and reinforces it harder.#it's things like this that make me want to leave the field and do something less heavy even if the hours are longer #whenever. WHENEVER I talk to a vet it's just bleak. Everything sucks everywhere. It's a matter of choosing your hell.#EVEN THE HAPPIER VETS #And there's no promise that if I try to go abroad I won't get crippling depression there too.#like. why do I try? why didn't I choose to go to NISER when I had the chance?#Why didn't I pick a job where I can just sit at a computer all day and not have to talk to anyone #how much do airport ground staff earn? maybe I could be a tug driver. Maybe I could have done some degree to become a flight mechanic.#why didn't I know when I finished school that my mental health is fragile as fuck and I need a job that doesn't make it this much worse #I'll run a photostat shop. I'll learn to fix laptops. Anything.#People raise families with that kind of income. Surely I can look after myself with it.#Why is everything bleak all over the world all the time in veterinary medicine? why is there no silver lining anywhere?#I'm sick of this. I'm sick of being decent at my job but not being able to handle the reality of how stressful it is.#I'll do any manual labour job day in and day out six and a half days a week for my whole life but this is just killing me #rant #I'm unrealistic and ungrateful and addicted to quick dopamine #but god I wish I wasn't suffering from depression of varying degrees since 2015.#vent #personal

0 notes

tarjapearce · 9 months

Text

Tentateur

Miguel O'Hara x Cheated on!fem Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT at the end, bit of angst, fluff, adult situations. Cheating, divorce.

Requested here

Summary: Miguel can't stand watching you being neglected by your husband.

------

If there was something Miguel hated, was life being too generous upon those that didn't deserve it, not even the slightest. Meaning, a dickhead for a coworker and sadly, your husband.

How could such a guy like him ended up with a sweetheart like you was beyond him, The man was apathetic, little to no charm, rude and an absolute bastard.

"She's uh, my wife." He had said flatly. Your name felt like sandpaper on his tongue as it rolled out of it while introducing you to the rest at a small party at Alchemax.

Miguel had noticed the little stab of hurt crossing your angelic face. He wanted to punch him straight in the face, even some of the other couples had noticed the small tension. But you just stood there, trying to give your best smile. The golden band around your finger and the loving stare your eyes casted on your husband was a clear 'Don't even try it' for him.

But for once, Miguel didn't care.

----

He didn't exactly know how the crush on you had started. At first he thought that was just him feeling lonely and that his eyes wandered too much. But when you visited, lunch bag in hand, looking for your husband only to give him a bedazzling smile upon seeing him, and he receiving you with a tight-lipped smile, made his heart to break a little more.

"Hey" You were about to kiss him but he just backed away.

"I'm working."

"Alright, alright. See you later?"

He just gave a quick nod and put the lunchbox on his desk. There wasn't love in his goodbye kiss, Miguel noted. Once you were out, he rummaged through its contents while rolling his eyes.

He looked around and spotted Miguel with a mug on his hand.

"Hey, pal." He called and offered him.

"Want some?" Miguel seized him from head to toes but just nodded. It felt the only way that he could have a bit of you at the moment.

"Take whatever you like. Wife always goes overboard with food." Miguel took the small dessert container. It tasted divine. It only matched your own sweetness.

Lucky Bastard.

Oh he was. His eyebrows pressed together as he kept giving away all the food you had so dotingly prepared him.

----

"Can we talk about this later? You can't just keep visiting me every time you feel so"

"But you keep forgetting lunch at home, can't leave you like-"

"It's fine really, we have vending machines here." Your husband grumbled, but you couldn't help but hold the lunchbox tightly against your arms.

"I see. Sorry." You gave him a small smile, "See you later?"

"Im busy today. Might get a couple hours late. Don't wait for me."

You just nodded as Miguel jaw tensed.

How dared he?

You left.

-----

You had bumped into him at the supermarket on a weekend. Your cart was full of food, food that would end up in his hands and the rest of the team but never in your husband's mouth.

"Miguel, right?"

He nodded as he pulled some items for himself in his basket.

"Thanks for helping me." you smiled, his heart thumped harder.

"Where is..." He cleared his throat and you looked up at him.

"My husband? Oh, he said he had an extra shift today. Working in Alchemax surely is hard, I mean, I try to make it less... bad for him."

Miguel's mind was sneering, not at you but at the fake pretense of a hard working man the son of a bitch had put up with you. He knew the truth, he knew your husband only went there, did things wrong and half assed, and lately he had been flirting shamelessly with a lab technician from the upper floor.

His hatred for the man only grew, just as his admiration for you. What truly made you marry someone like him? That's the biggest question he had so far.

"I'm kind of nervous, today's our anniversary. I wanna surprise him with something" Your cheeks tinted red.

God you were killing him. He wanted to grab you gently by your shoulders, and say 'I can be better' cause of course he could, he was. You'd never have to settle for less with him.

'I appreciate you' cause he did, unlike the fool you had married. 'You'd never have to beg me' because in truth, he was already at your feet.

But you weren't his. Not yet.

-----

Sighing, Miguel put the lab test equipment away, then headed for the main office to get a couple more samples of a liquid he tried, but stopped dead in his tracks at the sight.

Legs wrapped around a man's waist, as his pants were down at his ankles. The woman shrieked once she noticed Miguel standing there with a frown and disgusted face. Miguel’s anger froze when the man next to her turned to be none but your husband.

The man recoiled to himself upon Miguel glaring holes his way.

----

His shoulder was poked by none other that the cheating pig.

"Uh, hey. Can we.... Can you, I mean-"

He stumbled on his words, Miguel towered over him, his eyes belittling him. He was bold.

"You saw nothing, yeah?"

And oh so phony. Disgusting.

Miguel just went back to his work.

It was the last straw.

-------

To his surprise you were sitting on a café, puffy and tear crusted eyes staring into nothingness, a phone on your hands. You knew.

He didn't know whether to approach you, or just leave you be. As much as he wanted you, he knew that coming at you in your most vulnerable state would not only make a bad impression oh him, but he didn't want to act like a vulture, looming over your broken heart for him to take.

He approached carefully.

"Hey"

"Miguel..."

"Are you okay?"

Your eyes avoided him.

"May I sit?"

You nodded with a hiccup and he offered you his handkerchief, fresh hot tears spilled in the soft fabric. His chest constricting at the sight.

"He cheated on me."

Much to your dismay, he knew. Of course, he wanted to tell you, but knowing how careless your husband acted, it was a matter of time for you to discover the cheating.

"I'm really sorry to hear that."

Shaking your head, you sniffed

"He has been doing this for months. Should've... saw this coming. I mean... I found so many pictures of a woman and... God"

He was pretty sure that he would punch the man next time he'd see him.

"He never came home to our anniversary, but even way before that. He just... I wasn't enough."

He frowned and took your hand softly.

"Stop. Cheating is a personal choice, guapa. You can't blame yourself for other's choices. He decided to do so, to trash away his marriage. It has nothing to do with you."

"Maybe if... I was-"

"No. You're... you're perfect. Puta madre, you're more than perfect. He's a lucky bastard just to have you. And... If I was him-"

He stopped his words and pursed his lips. You didn't need this. He'd have to be patient. You stared at him gently.

"I'll file for a divorce. He's barely coming home anyways and... that pretty much says on it's own that is over."

Miguel just nodded.

"Might celebrate it." You chuckled after wiping your tears.

"Can I ask you something?"

Again, you nodded.

"I know it's none of my business but, I'm just genuinely curious as to why you'd marry him?"

"Impulsiveness, I guess." you shrugged, your hand resting some inches away from his.

"He just proposed one day out of the blue, we had been dating for six months. Don't... don't look at me like that. I know it was stupid." you groaned.

"It's alright. You thought it was love." His hand inched closer, you nodded.

"We had our problems. A lot, actually. But... instead of speaking things like a fucking adult, he went on cheating."

"Mira, guapa... yo" He trailed off unsure of resisting any longer, his resolution to wait vanishing, "I know that this is a really bad time for you and-"

"Please... don't. Miguel I-"

"Just listen, ok? Please?" His hand finally took yours gently.

"I know this is the least of things you need right now, but... You have no idea how... how perfect you are. I always saw you visiting him, being loving, and he just threw all that away. He lost you. You're way too much for him."

Your body tensed upon sensing where this was going. Of course you weren't ignorant, you'd notice the glances he would give your way, the yearning in his eyes every time you kissed or acted like lovesick fool with your glacial husband.

" Let me show you, how would I treat you, if you were mine."

"Miguel, I don't want to-."

"Let me take you to dinner. If you don't like anything and I mean it, anything, I'll stop and leave you be. Just a dinner. Hell, you could ramble about him for hours and I'd just be happy for you to be there."

You sighed, it was a rather simple choice to say yes or no. There was nothing that actually tied you to your ex husband now. Just a very skewed moral code.

" Just a dinner. "

His heart fluttered and he nodded

"Just a dinner and I'll drop you home."

----

Miguel helped you out of his car, eyes drinking in your form. He would be lying if he said that he didn't feel jealous of the dress you were wearing, snugging all your curves in the right spots, just a tiny thing to make your own beauty to stand out even more. Gorgeous, flawless, divine and perfect.

You gasped at the location

"Are you sure this is the place? It's quite expensive."

Your concern was endearing, he offered you his arm and guided you inside.

"You're worth it, princesa."

The place seemed like being inspired from an old movie, elegant, classic and of course fancy. Never in your life your ex husband would actually treat you to places like these. His card would explode, he said once. Other places were good, but this was in a whole new level of luxury.

Miguel held the chair for you, and you sat, he followed.

"This place is gorgeous." He chuckled and took your hand to kiss your soft knuckles.

"Just like you."

----

Time flew, the night had been to your surprise one of the best things that you have experienced. You had tasted things that didn't know existed, Miguel had fed you the dessert, pampering you to no end. The wine was delicious.

As night advanced, his little touches had turned more and more risqué, his fingers would take a taste of your exposed thigh skin, your hands would brush his, fiery and small caresses that sparked a silent yet mutual fire.

Once home you couldn't get your hands out of eachother. He had to be careful to not rip your dress to bits, he needed you. The wet kisses in your neck and his wandering hands all over your heated body the proof of it. When was the last time that someone touched you like this?

Not even him, the man that oathed to love you and be with you through thick and thin. A gentle rub on your clit by expert fingers made you forget about him. Lock his memory in a vault and you'd throw the key somewhere. Your hips would buck against his hand, rolling on waves after waves of pleasure.

"He didn't touch you?" You shook your head as your mouth gaped open.

"When was-"

"Shut up." you moaned breathlessly. An I don't know nor care.

Your body responded so well too him, be the need you tried to sate with your own hands, or the loneliness that had made you so desperate that had you squirming and soaked and he was only using his hands so far. With Miguel, things felt differently. He did things differently. And different was good. So so good.

His hunger for you shown and conveyed in every caress and touch he gave you. He was gentle enough for his desire to permeate your skin. You didn't feel alone. You felt needed. Loved even. There was no turning back once you discarded all the clothes on both ends.

----

Opposite to what you believed, your heart wasn't flooding with guilt. No.

There were no longer what ifs and what not constantly echoing in your brain. There was no longer that constricting sensation in your chest you always had. No more uncertainty. You were free.

Last night Miguel, whose arms cradled your form to be snuggled in his chest and his thigh hooked on your hip, hoarding you. As if fearful you'd go away, had made you experience a whole new concept of pleasure. Your body soared in bliss, you were glowing, He had given you climax after climax, making every single one of them more shattering and intense than the other.

That's all you wanted really. Feel at ease and blissful. Miguel had given you that and more. More than you actually ever though deserving. It was just a matter of time that you'd finally take him whole.

You wanted him. His kindness, his care, his love, his grumpyness during mornings, the way he cursed in spanish whenever he'd stub his toe in the nightstand. You wanted it all.

Of course you had filed for a divorce as soon as you could, your husband was more than happy to comply. He hadn't been home for a while, Miguel even told you that he had quitted. It was as if the universe was removing him from your life ever since you started with Miguel a couple months ago.

But none of that mattered. Not when he had plopped you down to bed, hands holding a firm grip in your sweaty and smooth skin, hips straddling yours and plowing into you from behind, prone bone position. His hips buried himself deep, hitting that spot over and over. He wasn't gentle, but that's just exactly how you liked it.

Before you could actually reach the stars he flipped you over, your thighs resting ontop of his. He sheathed once more inside. Your phone buzzed.

You growled in annoyance, Miguel sighed. A number you knew all too well. Finally you'd get the news you so needed to hear.

"Y-Yeah?" Miguel smirked as he held your thighs together and pushed in further, his tip kissing your cervix so deliciously you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan. The little baby bump in your abdomen barely noticeable.

"Shit's done. Papers are signed."

There was a bit of rustling and the clinking of glass. By his tone, you knew he was getting drunk, celebrating. Miguel took the phone and put it on speaker.

"Ya know? I'm glad I did. Couldn't stand you, nagging all the time. But I'm a free man now, baby." His gulping, something you secretly hated, could be heard on the other line.

Miguel frowned and spreaded your legs once more.

"You there?" Your ex chuckled, "It's okay if you're crying, won't judge"

So so annoying.

A smirk appeared on your face as Miguel focused the camera on your body. He then turned the video call on. The man's face instantly fell upon watching you bouncing on a cock that surely put his to shame. Spine arching, breast jiggling and mouth spewing the lewdest of moans and needy whimpers he hsd ever heard from you. One tan hand secured you in place, preventing you from squirming too much.

"Sorry, pal." He grunted as he started to ram his hips in abandonment, making your toes curl. Your face and body said it all. The video image shaking at his thrust

"Just like that, bonita?" You choked a sob as he went balls in deep, nodding and begging him for him to not stop.

"She's busy." He hung up the call before the man could say anything and tossed your phone somewhere in the bed.

You felt so good, perfect for him, And now you were all his.

------

tag list: @primroselovessupernatural

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #t writes✨

8K notes · View notes

sweet-as-an-angel · 4 months

Text

Ghost Letting You Watch Him Masturbate

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Desperate! Ghost, Touch-Starved! Ghost, Dominant! Ghost, Edging, Assisted Masturbation, Guided Masturbation, The Mask Stays On, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

He loves the way you watch him so intently as his hand works the shaft of his aching cock, the tip red and angry as he staves off his orgasm just to let you watch for a little bit longer. You come closer, on hands and knees, and sit before him, just shy of the area between his legs. The danger zone.

The sound of squelching is obscene, as is the sight of his dick glistening with pre. If he pulled his hand away, strings of it would cling to his palm, beckoning – begging – him to return.

He can hardly refuse you when you ask him if you can touch it. Touch him.

He nods, pulls his hand away enough so that you can slip yours beneath his. His hand is sticky as it clamps down around yours. He guides you, starting out with light strokes, mindful of the euphoria building just below his stomach again. Raw. Fresh.

When you’re more confident in this rhythm, you grip him a little tighter. Look up into Ghost’s half-lidded eyes. He nods, but can’t find the energy to lift his head back up. He’s looking down at you, his mask concealing all but the lethargic lust in his eyes. And when you start to move faster, he thinks he can feel Heaven. His slick hand is tight – nigh crushing – over yours, making you squeeze him tighter, harder. God, harder.

And when your fingers graze the sensitive skin of his tip, his head almost rolls back, his eyes screwing shut. He gasps, and his breath shutters

He knows that this won’t be like all the other times when it was just him all alone in his room, or the barracks, or the showers. He can feel it in the rapid tightening of his balls, one hanging lower than the other, in the knotting in his stomach. He feels his vein twitch – the one you’d been so curiously eyeing earlier – when you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes, eyes soft. You come closer. Sat between his legs now. He’s oozing from the tip; an effect only you can have. He’d have been embarrassed were he not in the crosshairs of what he could tell would be one of the most excruciating orgasms he’s ever had.

He’s panting now, watching you as, with soft fingers, you work the tip, spreading his juices across it, down his shaft. When you come back up, clenching your fingers around his tip, he hisses. Jolts. When you try to retract, concern evident in the furrow of your brow, he snatches your hand back, gripping your wrist and enclosing your hand around him once more.

“Keep goin’,' he pants. His eyes glisten beneath the fluorescence of the dim bulb above you.

“Please.”

And you do. You squeeze and squelch and slide your hand along the length of him until your arm aches and his back is arching out of his chair, head lolling back as thick globs of cum spurt out from the tip. No warning. Just the explosion and its aftermath.

His grip around your hand tightens. You wince, but he doesn’t notice. He’s growling, guttural and animal, teeth gritted beneath his mask. He can feel his eyes strain with how far back into his skull they’ve rolled.

His stomach gradually becomes soaked in a viscous, milky spray. You’re sure you can see his shaft pulsating with every pump of his semen – like water through a pipe – emptying himself. Some of it gets caught in the hairs leading down from his belly button, thicker as they reach the pubic area.

His chest heaves. His hand is still around yours, looser now. But not by much. Keeping you there.

He musters the strength to look down at you again. Your eyes follow the beads of cum weeping from his tip as they cover his hand, staining the expanse of his scarred skin. He lets you go. Watches you watch the glossy beads of his release meet your hand. Warm and wet.

He’ll teach you how to take him with your mouth next time; teach you to work your tongue just how he likes it. He’ll watch you swallow all of him. He’ll forge the satisfaction of knowing that his cum will be swimming inside your stomach.

His. From the inside.

Heavy breathing; a hand tilting your chin up so your eyes meet his; a slim, crooked smile beneath his mask. He promises.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

6K notes · View notes

devourable · 6 months

Text

yandere church boy x gn bottom reader smut ;; semi public/risky, sacrilege, religious imagery mentions (takes place in a church broom closet during service), unintentional edging

it was a miracle the two of you hadn't gotten caught yet. how many times have you ended up like this just this week alone?

despite abraham's attempts to keep you quiet, clasping his hands around your mouth and keeping his own whiny moans just soft enough that only you could hear them, he just couldn't keep himself from ramming into you. every thrust was so hard that it rattled the door you were pressed up against — anyone in the hall outside of the closet would easily figure out what was going on inside.

"you feel so good," abe whimpered in your ear, "s-so soft— oh, god..."

your breath hitched when he pulled you backwards and thrusted into you harder. thank god the sound of the choir picked up just then — abe's hands could do little to muffle your cries. he was way too deep, it felt like he was in your stomach at this angle! but your pushing at his hips did nothing to stop him from fucking into you even harder.

so many people, so nearby, just a few meters down the hall. the thought of getting caught fluttered through your mind. what would they think of of you, getting fucked by the pastor's boy when *** was surely watching?

abe's incoherent whimpering interrupted your thoughts. he was trying to say something to you, and though the words were unclear, you knew exactly what he was trying to say.

so you expected it when his thrusts came to a disappointing stop, his hands slipping from your mouth to grasp and plant your hips against his own. you felt his cock twitching in you, just as desperate for release as you were, despite abe's unwillingness to let himself have it.

you let out a whine of protest as he stammered out his apologies, planting messy kisses along your neck and shoulder. you knew he wouldn't leave you unsatisfied, but... how many times would he do this before you actually got to cum?

luckily, you didn't have time to wonder. within moments of stopping, abe was pulling you back against him and moving his hips again, the feeling of him fucking you again while you were already so sensitive driving thought from your mind.

#i am losing my mind #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x oc #yandere boy #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere smut #yandere nsft #yandere lemon #yandere x reader smut #male yandere x reader #xv ;; the devil — my writing #⛪️ abraham a. ;; the church boy

4K notes · View notes

vixstarria · 3 months

Text

Seeing stars

Welp, I wrote more porn.

Astarion x F!Tav/F!Reader

18+, smut, porn with plot, porn with feelings, jealous Astarion, soft dom Astarion, dirty talk, fingering, PIV, elf ears and more! Humour, banter and fluff mixed in per usual. Tav failing several insight checks in the process.

I also poke fun at the in-game romance mechanics, and Wyll's Act 2 scene in particular.

This is the last time they have sex before the "I want us to be something real" conversation.

Approx. 2,900 words

“You won’t believe the ludicrous encounter I just had with Wyll.”

You burst into Astarion’s tent. Well, it was ‘Astarion’s’ tent only notionally at this point. Yours still stood, but it now served solely as storage space for your assorted junk. You had effectively moved in with Astarion, having first coerced him into replacing the wooden plank and bloodstained rags he slept on with some sensible rugs and blankets.

Astarion lounged half-naked on one of the bedrolls, reading something by candlelight.

“Oh?” he looked up at you. “Do tell.”

“First the massage you promised earlier,” you said sinking down onto the floor of the tent and stripping off most of your clothes. “My back is killing me after carrying everyone all day.”

“Oh please...” he rolled his eyes. “I recall you nearly walked into your own cloud of daggers, again, and would have if I hadn’t pulled you away in time. And then you blasted Lae’zel off a cliff. It’s a wonder we haven’t kicked you out yet.” He shook his head. “And if you’re carrying anyone, I’m the one carrying you.”

Still, he sat up as you laid down on your stomach.

“Who do you think you’re fooling with this modesty, darling?” he murmured, noticing that you’d kept your underwear on. “Just lose it now,” he added, as he slid it off, leaving you completely naked, before he settled over you, his fingers commencing work on your shoulders. “So what happened with Wyll?”

“I was making my way back here, and found him... performing some kind of jig by the campfire, pretending like he didn’t know I was there.”

“The ‘Blade of Frontiers’, dancing alone in the middle of camp?” Astarion snickered. “Did you mock him? Please tell me you mocked him.”

“Well... I was going to, but then he asked me to dance with him, very earnestly.”

“That scoundrel...” he mused. “And let me guess - you agreed, didn’t you?”

“Oh trust me, at that point it would have been more awkward not to dance with him, I had to play along.”

Astarion scoffed, with a chuckle.

“Do you always go along with whatever people want from you just because it would be too awkward to say no?”

"I try not to – last time I did, I ended up with a vampire who won’t stop sucking me dry,” you deflected. “I figured there was no harm in indulging him. Besides, I don’t see you dancing with me. It was kind of nice,” you teased.

“I hate dancing,” he said.

“Right,” you said. “I’m sure you hate dancing just as much as you hate poetry, flowers, art, cats... What else?”

“Children,” he answered. “I also can’t stand children.”

“No, that one I could see being true,” you grinned.

“So anyway, you two dolts pranced around the fire to the sound of crickets, then what?”

“And then he tried to kiss me,” you admitted, with a sigh.

Astarion’s hands paused for a moment before resuming their work, slightly harder than before.

“Well look at you, receiving the Duke Ravengard’s heir’s attention. Moving up in the world, hmm?”

“I didn’t let him.”

He laughed.

“Is there even a single person left in camp that hasn’t tried to get into your pants, darling?”

You had to think for a moment.

“Are we counting Volo?”

“Sure.”

“Then just Karlach and Withers.”

“Gods, I fucking love Karlach,” he murmured. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Why? Getting jealous all of a sudden?”

Astarion was silent for a few moments.

“I just don’t understand it,” he said. “You’re with me every night. I’m at your side every day. They see us. They hear us. Still, they don’t take me – or you and me – seriously. Tell me, is there something about me that screams: ‘Please, go ahead and take my lover for yourself. Come on in and snatch her right out from under me, I don’t mind’?”

Perhaps you’d made a bad judgment call when you thought Astarion would find the absurdity of the situation humorous rather than offensive. Still, you had to bite your cheek to keep from laughing at the dramatics he added to the delivery of the last few lines that left his mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he said.

“I’m not laughing,” you laughed.

“I can feel your back muscles twitching in your efforts.”

“Well, they’re aware this all started as a joke. Perhaps they never realised that it’s long stopped being one?” you offered.

Astarion’s hands had been moving lower and lower along your back. They had now reached your ass and continued to rub, stroke and squeeze, as you let out a soft groan.

“That’s not my back, Astarion.”

One of his hands kept squeezing an ass cheek, while the other dipped to stroke you between your legs. He gave a satisfied hum when two of his fingers entered you effortlessly.

“Maybe if they could see how wet I can make you just by rubbing your back they’d reconsider how much of a joke this is,” he said, his voice low. He continued to pump his fingers in and out – you were almost embarrassed by the loud squelching sounds that came out of you. You moaned and tried to lift your hips higher, but your legs were encased between his thighs, pinned down on the bedroll. “Do you think you’d be reacting this way to young Ravengard, darling?”

“Stop it,” you hissed. “You know I don’t want anyone but you.”

“Stop?” he pulled his fingers out, to your dissatisfied whine. You looked back to see him studying your slick on his fingers. “I should go smear this on his face right now... The audacity to try to get his hands on what is not his.” He licked his fingers clean instead. He turned his attention back to you.

“Maybe if you were more vocal about your devotion to me the others wouldn’t make these mistakes.”

His hand returned between your legs, spreading your wetness and slipping lower to tease your clit.

“I could be... encouraged... to be more vocal about it,” you breathed, trying to grind against his hand.

“Yes... I should make you scream my name, so they all know who you belong to.”

His fingers returned inside you, teasing you with shallow strokes.

“You can try,” you taunted him.

Astarion let out an indignant huff and shifted to spread your legs open with his knees, simultaneously placing a hand on your back to firmly hold you down. You expect to feel his cock enter you, but he continued to stroke you with his fingers, turning his hand to curl them downwards.

“Is that a challenge, darling?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “You should know better by now than to bet against me,” he said, continuing to flex his fingers inside you.

It started off pleasant enough, but rapidly grew into... more. And more. You weren’t sure what he was doing but whatever it was, it was just about making you see stars.

You sputtered as the new sensation started to take hold of your whole being.

“Ast… what..”

You couldn't manage anything coherent, as his fingers continued to dig into you, gradually picking up speed and pressure. You started to squirm to try to get away despite yourself, but he simply put more weight against the hand on your back, securely pinning you to the bedroll.

“Always getting yourself into situations you're not prepared for…" he murmured. "You're not talking your way out of this one.”

His fingers were relentless. You were worried you really would scream and wake everyone in camp. All you could do was bite down on the pillow, hoping that it would muffle your drawn-out moans.

“Let go, darling... I know you want to.”

It's not so much that you let go – rather, all your decorum was ripped from you, as your muscles convulsed, the orgasm rolling through your entire body. You panted and shuddered, trying to keep quiet, your hands clutching desperately at the covers beneath you, trying to hold on to anything like your life depended on it.

Once the feeling subsided, you came back to your senses to find Astarion hovering over you, kissing the back of your neck and shoulders, grazing them with his fangs, almost but not quite hard enough to draw blood. You felt his erection rubbing against your hip.

“Has anyone fucked you like this before?” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breath ragged from his own arousal. “Tell me.”

“No,” you gasped, trying to catch your own breath.

“I thought so,” he whispered with a smile, kissing your neck before he sat back up.

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder. He watched you with a self-satisfied grin, his fingers returning to stroke you lightly between your legs once more.

“Do you want me to do it again?” he purred.

A part of you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face after what he just put you through. Another, much larger part, wanted nothing more than to submit yourself to whatever he would do to you.

“Yes,” you admitted sheepishly.

“Turn around...” he narrowed his eyes mischievously. “I want to see your face this time.”

You flipped around onto your back, under his watchful gaze. His eyes never left yours as he stroked your slit, teasing your engorged clit with his thumb, before his fingers slipped back inside you.

You found yourself mewling in anticipation before he really even started doing anything.

“So eager,” he smirked. “So wanton...”

He curled his fingers again, moving his whole hand to mercilessly claw into a sweet spot you didn’t even know existed inside you.

You tried to relax into and accept this sensation, now that you were familiar with it. A growing pressure kept building at the bottom of your stomach. It was too much. It was entirely too much. You couldn’t take more of it. You couldn’t-

“Let go, I’ve got you...” His whisper sounded so tender in sharp contrast to the depraved way he was handling your body.

You sobbed as what you hoped was cum gushed out of you, your legs quivering.

“Good girl”, Astarion laughed with glee, bending down to place a kiss on your lips, continuing to stroke you lightly, “Your body reacts so perfectly to me... Do you want more?”

“You... I want you...” you groaned, biting his lip.

“If that’s what my good girl wants,” he purred, discarding what was left of his clothes.

You groaned as his cock entered you, rocking your hips against his, trying to find that feeling again.

“So wet and needy for me...” he goaded you. “I’ve completely ruined you for anyone else, haven’t I?”

He held absolutely nothing back as he fucked you, lewd insistent sounds of skin slapping on skin combined with your shared grunts and moans disturbing what was likely otherwise a silent night.

“Anyone awake knows exactly what I’m doing to you right now,” he rasped, voice thick.

Your walls clenched at the thought, making him shudder and sigh as well.

“You like that thought, don’t you..? I know you do,” he continued. “So shameless...”

Despite yourself, you whimpered, clenching again as another orgasm started threatening to overtake you.

“That’s it... Come for me again,” he groaned. “Come for me, my love.”

‘My love’..? Just a figure of speech, you thought. You’d thrown that phrase around, jokingly, but it’s never sounded so... raw. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to keep hearing it.

“Your what?” you gasped.

He didn’t answer. Instead he caught your lips in a deep, devouring kiss, pinning your arms over your head.

Your body gave in and you trembled under him, caught up in waves of pleasure again.

He released your arms and eased his movements once you rode out your high, but kept kissing you, hungrily, unwilling to release your lips from his.

Clearly, no further words of love would follow, you thought to yourself with a tinge of both relief and disappointment, deciding to let it go.

“You’re so good to me,” you managed, breaking your lips from his.

“Aren’t I just?” he groaned, speeding up again to chase his own release.

You kissed your way up his jaw to his ear, pausing to nibble on his earlobe.

You couldn’t see it, but a ditsy, open-mouthed smile started to play on his face.

Astarion gasped with a sharp intake of breath as you continued further, running your tongue over the inside of the shell of his ear.

“Oh sweet hells,” he sighed with pleasure, immediately grinding into your harder.

You smiled as he tilted his head, just about pressing his ear against your lips.

“Do you like that?” you whispered in his ear, running your tongue over it again, lifting your hands to run your fingers through his hair. You knew he did. You just wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes... Don’t stop...” His words sounded like a desperate plea.

You continued to gently nibble on the edge of his ear, soft moans escaping you from his movements.

“That’s it, take what’s yours” you groaned, as his hips crashed into yours harder.

His breathing and movements were becoming more and more frantic.

“Astarion...” you whispered, grazing the shell of his ear with your lips.

He let out an uncharacteristic whimper, all his usual composure slipping from him, as he bucked his hips, fucking you with quick, shallow thrusts.

“My sweet...” you breathed against his ear.

He came completely undone, spilling into you with forceful, jagged thrusts, before finally stilling. His whole body seemed to melt into yours as he stayed on top of you, trying to regain his breath.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, not wanting to let go of him yet, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to lift himself from you either. Instead he trailed light, tender kisses from your neck up to your lips.

You delicately traced the contours of Astarion’s face with your fingertips, running them from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as he leaned into your caress, gazing into your eyes.

Astarion parted his lips slightly, as though to say something, only to seal them again. He tilted his head to kiss your knuckles as your fingers gradually made their way back up, to run through his hair. Eventually he spoke.

“You would really choose me over the more... blatantly obvious options you have at your disposal here?” he asked quietly.

“Haven’t I made that abundantly clear already..?”

“Well of course you have – no one else is this good,” he said with a tired smirk.

“I’m not talking about the...” you blinked. “You know I’m not with you just for the sex, right..?” you frowned, looking into his eyes.

He looked away, slipping out of you and moving to lie down next to you.

“Is that so?” he said softly.

You found yourself suddenly feeling rattled. Was he simply fishing for compliments again, or had you been utterly oblivious to just how deep his insecurities ran this whole time..?

“You have a wealth of other qualities that I... enjoy and appreciate,” you said, somewhat lamely.

Astarion propped his head up on his hand and raised an eyebrow at you quizzically. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes despite his outward nonchalance.

Oh for fuck’s sake, you thought. I’m not ready for any serious conversations now, especially not with cum running down my thighs.

You turned away to grab something to wipe yourself down with.

“A gentleman would clean up his own mess, by the way. Not one of your strong points. But you do have some virtues that make up for it. For instance... I can leave cheese unattended around you, knowing you won’t eat it.”

Astarion went to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing.

“You’re a treasure trove of useless information,” you continued. “But unlike some of our companions you usually keep it to yourself.” A hint of a smile played on his lips at that.

“Your hand feels nice and cold on my forehead when I have a headache.” You laid back down next to him, mirroring the way he was lying.

“You always smell nice, especially for a dead guy. You never hog the mirror.”

“What about my hair, won’t you mention that?” he smiled.

“No, fuck your hair, it makes mine look awful in comparison.”

He chuckled at that.

“I do rather adore the garnet puppy eyes though,” you murmured. “What else... You make me laugh, and, more importantly, I make you laugh – which is great for my ego,” you continued.

“As long as you understand that I’m usually laughing at you,” he countered.

“Prick... Then there’s the fact you’ve saved my life four times.”

“Seven,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes.

“Five.”

“It’s seven, dear, I counted.”

“Whatever. When it comes to battle, you’re silent but deadly,” you said. “Like a-”

Astarion’s hand covered your mouth.

“Do not finish that thought, darling.”

You grinned from behind his palm.

“I think we can be done with this conversation,” he said.

“Wait, wait, one more...” you laughed. “You’re eccentric, unpredictable, often irrational. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth.”

You smiled as Astarion groaned dramatically, covering his face with one hand.

“Knowing I’ll get to spend another day in your mad company gives me a reason to get up in the morning,” you added, softly.

“Come here, you sweet fool,” he whispered, drawing you against him.

You hugged him tightly. It took so long for him to start initiating these embraces that wouldn’t lead to sex... You relished each one.

Tomorrow, Astarion thought to himself, unbeknown to you. I have to tell her tomorrow.

~~~~~

Follow up bonus scene

This work is part of a series - here is the master list

Next in series - Confession

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89

@spacebarbarianweird @kittenintheden - hey, I heard you like elf ears

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 smut #astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfic #astarion romance #bg3 fanfiction #astarion fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

fangswbenefits · 4 months

Text

Breathe

Summary: Astarion is more than eager to show you the perks of not breathing.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Face riding/sitting. Praise kink. Precum. Cumplay (if you squint). Masturbation.

Word count: 1.6k

It was the cold press of lips along the nape of your neck that gradually raised you from your sleep.

“Astarion…”

The arm around your waist pulled you in closer, and you shuddered at the feel of his usually cool skin now warm from your own body heat.

He began trailing lingering kisses along your shoulder as his hand travelled upwards until his thumb brushed the underside of one breast.

“I’m sleepy…” you grumbled, burying your face in the soft pillow.

“I’ll wake you up.”

And he meant every word.

A dedicated lover such as Astarion would always find a way to bestow pleasure upon you whenever possible.

“You know….there’s perks to not breathing.”

You let out a yawn. “Is that so?”

He hummed, tracing the area around your nipple without quite touching it, effectively having your body yearn for more.

The faintest pressure against your backside was enough to note that his cock was beginning to harden.

Neither of you ever bothered wearing clothes to bed as it would just be a nuisance whenever lust decided to strike.

“And what makes you say that?” you mumbled.

Slowly but surely, he hardened your nipple with the pad of his thumb, always eager to showcase just how masterful he could be with his fingers.

“Sit on my face.”

That remark immediately had your eyes open and you turned your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, do not act so coy, darling,” he cooed with a click of his tongue, giving your nipple a teasing squeeze. “You do know I adore tasting you in more ways than one.”

That you did, but you had yet to indulge in his suggestion.

Instinctively, you bucked your hips into him, earning a quick hiss as his cock began to drip precum.

“Go on… sit on my face.”

There was a hint of despair in his voice that did wonders to your ego and to the growing swell in between your folds.

You pushed yourself to sit before giving his lips a quick peck, which drew a devious smile from him.

“I don’t want to hurt you…” you said hesitantly.

He patted your thigh lovingly. “Darling, the only pain you can inflict on me is from not allowing me to eat you out.”

Heat rushed to your face in record time.

As always, Astarion had a gift for words, especially when it came to seduction.

He rolled onto his back, giving your backside a light squeeze and nudging you forward.

Oh.

You felt the familiar throb down below provide enough motivation for you to slowly shift along the mattress and settle each leg on either side of his head, gripping the headboard for support.

One glance down and you saw him give you an encouraging smile.

It was unjust how handsome he was…

And you still feared it might be too much…

“Are you sure about this?”

He rolled his eyes dramatically, and hooked both arms around your thighs, quickly yanking you down until his cool tongue was pressed flat against your folds.

You immediately let out a gasp as his nose settled against the growing swell, providing a delicious friction that had you nearly losing balance until you leaned forward against the wooden headboard.

Gods above…

The tip of his tongue prodded at your entrance briefly before he slowly dragged it along your folds and closed his lips around your swell.

That nearly took your breath away and you could stop yourself from clenching desperately around nothing as he suckled softly on you.

It was getting harder and harder to stop yourself from grinding down and fully riding his face, and you were sure your knees would cramp eventually if you kept resisting his pull.

Astarion began sucking harder, his grip on your thighs tightened and you could hear an increasing disapproving growl from him.

Startled, you lifted your hips at once, glancing down at his handsome handsome, your wetness coating his nose and lips and chin.

A glorious sight, indeed.

“Was it too much?”

He scowled. Deeply.

“I told you to sit on my face, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but…”

Oh, he wasn’t amused at all.

“Then don’t hold back. Please.”

There was something truly riveting about Astarion pleading you to let him please you, that never failed to make your heart skip several beats.

You slowly lowered yourself, watching his eyes flutter shut as you settled against his mouth once again.

This time, you earned a content rumble from him, his tongue eagerly lapping at your wetness and the pressure of his nose against you already testing your sanity.

Lunging forward, you gripped the headboard, resting your face against your arms as a string of moans began to spill from your mouth.

With each swipe of his tongue… every nudge of his nose and all the groans that reverberated across his lips against your swell.

He felt divine and you chose to fully cave in, rolling your hips and occasionally glancing down to stare at the gorgeous man underneath you that so skillfully worshipped every single inch of your body.

“Gods…” you kept on groaning from time to time whenever he caught a hold of you again and hungrily began to suckle.

It was proving to be a struggle just keeping your eyes open to witness your wetness spread along his skin.

As aroused as you were, you still tried your best to ride him slowly, yearning for more friction, but it wasn’t until you brought one hand down to grip his unruly curls that he groaned harder against you, one of his arms dropping from your thigh.

Driven by curiosity and through the near-blinding haze of lust, you looked over your shoulder only to see his hand firmly closing around his cock.

A deep moan escaped your lips at the obscene amount of precum that dripped from the tip in a single thick string pooling on his lower abdomen.

You felt him open his mouth, his fangs prodding teasingly against your skin. For a moment, you feared your rolling hips might cause him to accidentally nip you, but you needn’t worry.

Astarion was an attentive lover who excelled at prioritising pleasure above all else. Both his and yours.

Your pleasure was his.

His pleasure was your.

And you were now completely unable to look away from the way he quickly matched the rhythm in which he stroked his cock with that of his tongue delving past your entrance.

“Astarion… go easy…” you gasped, closing your fingers around his soft curls as you simultaneously held on for dear life with a fierce grip on the headboard.

But he had no intention of slowing down and that was evident from how deep he was willing to go inside you, nose firmly pressed against between your folds.

The lewd sounds of him slurping your wetness mixed with those that he drew with each stroke around his cock began to echo throughout the room, further pushing you closer to your peak.

It utterly baffled you that he could be so turned on from having you in this position, but it shouldn't come as a surprise, considering how he never held back showering you in devotion and how much your responses would stroke his ego.

Precum dribbled along his length and down to his hand, small droplets dangling from it as he increased the pace, his own hips rhythmically lifting from the mattress as he fucked his own hand.

Feeling the ever-growing coil rise in your lower abdomen, you promptly chased after your high by grinding against him even more vigorously. Astarion responded to your newfound pace with a groan, sliding his tongue out and focusing his entire attention precisely where he should.

Such a devoted lover…

As soon as his hips wrapped around your swell, you bucked your hips further against him, breaking into a strained sob as you leaned forward to recover the balance he had knocked out of your body with his skillful mouth.

Incoherent words erupted from deep within you as you rode his face, desperate to reach that high only he could deliver.

With a few more suckles, your vision began to blur as you felt the overwhelming wave of pleasure crash down on you, now gripping strands of his hair in fists with both hands, stilling abruptly as your spasming thighs squeezed around his face.

“You’re so good…” you moaned, knowing fully well how much he adored your praise.

That was also what eventually drove him to reach his own peak, as the arm around your thigh began to tighten and his lips let go of your so his mouth could drop open in a muffled growl.

With wobbly legs and laboured breaths, you dropped to the side just so you could witness him riding out his own wave of bliss.

His face was completely soaked in your wetness, which streamed down his cheeks and his chin and neck.

Astarion always looked absolutely ethereal whilst coming undone, and you weren’t able to tear your eyes away from the amount of come that he kept squeezing from the tip with an iron-tight grip.

You shifted closer to him, pressing a soft kiss to his wet cheek as he cried out your name.

“You did so good…” you kept on repeating in between kisses before he hungrily took your lips in his, muffling his own groans.

You hadn’t realised your hand had moved to his chest until you felt a few strings of his spend coating your skin, but you couldn’t care less.

Tasting yourself in him drew an approving moan from you and he slowly broke the kiss, his eyelids heavy with the aftermath of lust.

“I reckon we should indulge in this more often.”

You chuckled, swiping your tongue along his lip. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this famished…”

He gripped your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss before parting again. “Is that a challenge, darling?”

Masterlist

#astarion smut #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion x female tav #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #astarion x f!tav #astarion x reader

3K notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 1 month

Text

lecture hall

words: 400

warnings: 18+ only, p in v sex, friends to lovers, hair pulling

“rafe.” topper whispers again, finally getting his attention as rafe turns to look at him. topper points aggressively at you, head down on the desk, caught sleeping during your college class after a long night of studying.

“shit.” rafe groans. he has to reach to tap you on the shoulder, hoping the professor doesn't notice. he's a hard ass and will most certainly take it personally that you've fallen asleep, despite you only staying up because you wanted to do good in his class.

“y/n!” rafe whisper-shouts your name, glad to be sitting in the back row as the professor switches slides, monotone voice continuing to fill the classroom.

the tap doesn't wake you up. rafe curses himself for even caring about you getting caught, but he's been friends with you since tbjrs grade when you transferred after your parents decided they wanted a more relaxed life and moved to the outer banks. you've only grown closer together when you, topper, rafe and few other obx high school graduates went to the same college.

“y/n!” rafe whispers again, this time able to get a hold of your hair as he gives it a gentle tug, but it's still not enough to rouse you.

“shit.” rafe mumbles to himself, trying to scooch his chair closer without gaining any attention.

he's able to reach and get a better grip on your hair, several of your curls in his grasp as he tugs your head back.

you wake up, but with a loud, sensual moan, the entire classroom as well as the professor turning to look at you, seeing your head pulled back, hair in rafes hand.

he drops the strands quickly, your eyes wide and face red when you realize what happened. you both wait for the yell of the professor, but it doesn't come as he clears his throat, very obviously adjusts his pants, and spends the rest of the lecture sat behind his desk.

“harder.” you moan. rafe isn't sure if you're begging for him to thrust into your harder or to pull your hair more aggressively, but he does both anyways.

“oh fuck, just like that!” you moan out, sounding just like when you accidentally let out the noise in class.

you grip onto the sheets of your bed, glad you have a single dorm as rafe plows you from behind, your hair pulled back in a ponytail of his hand, tugging in time with every thrust.

“god, would have pulled your hair much earlier if i knew it turned you into such a slut.” rafe chuckles.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout

1K notes · View notes

yurmomsawh0r · 1 year

Text

•°His Perfect Little Wife °•

Nanami turning feral over your submissive domestic ways.

• CW : Nanami being a slightly hard Dom, Rough sex, pet names, impact play [If you squint], Cursing, Cervix touching.

Part 2 here

—

Nanami Kento was considered a very upkept man. His colleagues could tell you that they have honestly never seen him discombobulated, or angry or disorganized. Some would say he was the 'perfect' man. He always came in with his calm, cool and collected manner. It was envious that he never seemed to have trouble in his life.

Hair combed back, suit clean and pressed to perfection. Coffee, just the way he liked it, in hand and all documents organized in folders, perfectly set so that he could have a perfect day without any disruptions to his continuous everyday cycle. They always asked him how he did it. How he was able to always have a smooth, uninterrupted day.

And to put it in the most simplistic way that he could, he always replied with a very simple answer. You.

Now to most of his colleagues, they couldn't quite understand what he would mean. How could a simple housewife, who possibly did nothing at home, make sure this very successful man had a perfect day almost every day.

Nanami, of course, never went into detail. Men were greedy, especially these men. He would never give them the many details about how you always turn him into the most discombobulated man ever by just being a good wife.

Even now, his cock was straining in his suit pants with a never ending need for you. You were so on schedule and so on point for him. Always getting up at 6:30 to get his clothes and suit case ready, soon after, starting his breakfast so that by the time he's out of the shower, you both can eat together.

Making his lunch and filling his thermos with coffee so he can take it to work with him. He loved that he never had to take care of the small things in life. You made it easier for him to focus on the bigger picture. You made it easier for him to take care of you. He always made sure that you were well taken care of and the simple fact that you took care of his home, even his smallest of needs, made him work harder to please you.

You were perfect. You were his.

He would've never considered himself a possessive man, but that was until you entered his life, and as much as he would love to brag about you and show you off, something in his just wouldn't allow him to share anything about you. Of course you've been seen with him on occasions, but Nanami never brought you up if he didn't have too. And when anyone would ask about you, specifically a male, he would always give cold answers, his irritation growing quickly.

Apart of him hated you for how out-of-place you made him feel, and that pent up aggression would always be released upon your soft body.

God, your body. He loved how soft you were compared to his rough and hard one. He loved the way his hands sunk into your flesh. Your plump thigh that he loved to grab and squish.

The fullness of your tits (small boobs can be full too!) ,down to the plumply flesh of your ass.

But his favorite was the soft, delicious set of lips that you held between your legs.

"Nanami? You alright there bud?" He didn't realize he had spaced out. Mostly caught up in his head over all the things he would do to you when he got home. He was sweating but his face kept a stoic expression, but no doubt he knew they knew.

For the first time in years, they had just witnessed Nanami acting out of place. Anger silently crept and soon you were going to be at the end of it's wrath.

It was your fault for being so perfect.

Looking at the clock, Nanami quickly grabbed all his stuff, stuffing whatever he could into his briefcase, before he left without saying another word. Gojo cackling in the back ground at his sudden lack of composure. If anyone knew about how you made Nami feel, it would him.

Quickly getting into his car, he sped off, racing home to you.

•

There you were. Slaving away over the hot stove, just too have a nice dinner ready for when he got home. Sadly it wasn't ready as Nanami didn't have to come home for another hour.

He stood there watching you move back and forth. Seasoning whatever meat you decided on for tonight.

You were in a pair of black booty shorts and a regular sports bra that nicely lifted your breast. He couldn't help but give you a once over. Shamelessly letting his eyes fall down your legs then back up, stopping at your ass, before his eyes landed on the back of your head.

Some would say he's being creepy but to him, he was just admiring the woman who chose him to be her husband. You were his and he was going to look and appreciate your beauty whenever he could.

Blood rushed to his groin making him grip his hard-on. It was so hard and ready to be seathed in his second home that resided in the neighborhood of your legs. He thought about the many times he had came home to ravish you. Bent over the bathtub that you were cleaning. On top of the washer machine as you did his laundry. Over the table you had just set for dinner, shit, he fucked you all over the house.

You were unaware that your husband was home. To busy fixing dinner and finishing the rest of your chores to notice. It wasn't until you had bent over, opening your oven to place the stuffed chicken inside. It was faint, and if you could identify the sound it would've been the faintest sound of a zipper pulling down.

You shot up, quickly turning to face the noise. Your breath hitched seeing your husband home so early. "Hi honey, how was work?" You asked, glancing at your phone to check the time.

He was about 45 minutes early which was unusual. When he didn't respond, you faced him again with worry. "What's wrong baby?" A pout graced your lips as you caressed his sweaty face.

"Oh my God, your hot and sweaty! What happened?" Panick filled you. Your husband was home early, not responding, hot and sweaty. You've never seen him like this unless he –

Wait. . .

You glanced down at his undone suit pants, he dick already out and throbbing with need. You could clearly see the shiny bead forming at his tip.

'Fuck' you thought to yourself, 'he's never come home like this before. What the hell happened.'

You lift your gaze to meet his eyes. A soft gasp left your lips. You knew this was serious, seeing as his glasses were already off. No time to think, a hand gripped your throat. A squeal leaving your lips at the same time your arousal started to leak. As if your body was reacting to his. The same intensity, the same heat.

You could feel sweat start to form under your pits as well as your forehead. Nanami placed his warm lips against yours with so much passion. Sucking and biting them. Tasting them like it was his last meal. He backed you into the nearest counter, picking you up but your fat and placing you on top of it. Slowly making love to your tongue with his, he let his other hand drift to the inside of your panties. Finding your little pleasure nub, rubbing with just enough friction.

"Ah!" You moaned out only for it to be caught abd muffled by your lust-filled husband. Nanami felt your slick gathering — hiding behind your folds and sliding down to your entrance. He took this chance to plunge his two middle fingers inside your wet cavern, quickly finding his favorite spot to play with.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck!" You couldn't help but break from his mouth to wail out profanities. He was fucking you so good with his fingers that you already had the urge to cum.

Clenching and un-clenching in a repeated cycle over and over again. "Are you gonna cum for me baby? Yea?"

"Yesss Nami! Fuck!" You screamed, making him chuckle. He loved that you were being compliant today. Usually he would have to pull it out of you, but today was different. She knew he needed control. She knew he didn't need anything to make him feel worse than he did.

He had lost control today, and you were going to let him fuck you to get it back. To help him sate his lust and find composure. First he needed to hear you.

"Who's pussy is this baby?" He thrust his fingers deeper in you, but at a slower pace. pushing you to the edge but not over. "Pleaseeee Nami! You know it's yours!"

He sent a smack to your back side. "I didn't ask what I know, I asked you who's is it my pretty little wife." Nanami pressed a quick kiss to your lips before you had a chance to deepen it, making you whine for him.

Sometimes you hated when he acted like this, you hated not getting what you wanted, and that was rare, but the other side of loved his torment. You loved knowing that you were the only one who could make him this way. "It's yours daddy."

"You're such a good girl, and do you know what good girls get?" He spoke to you in a deep husky voice. You loved it. You loved how it made you feel.

Your pussy throbbed around his finger and your pretty sure he felt it. "Good girls get to cum." He smirked, working his fingers faster and faster and faster until the damn broke.

"Ahhh yesssss!" You pulled him closer to you as your hips undulated with every thrust of his fingers. Nanami felt his hand drenched as your essence shot from your swollen wet pussy.

"You made such a mess baby, see? Look." Taking his hand, he smeared your juices on your face before pulling you into a sloppy kiss.

You didn't even have time to catch your breath before he did. He pulled you down from the counter, turned and bent you over the same said counter top. Folding your arms behind your back, he plunged his hot dick inside your spasming cunt. "Ah! Nami! Be g-gentle!"

But he doesn't. Instead he fucked you harder, faster. Deep calculated thrust that penatrated the deepest parts of your canal. Every thrust caused you to stand on the tips of your toes. He was hurting you, yes, but it was a pleasurable pain. A welcomed pain.

He pressed his cock into your cervix as he was fully seathed inside you. He was fueled by every 'ugh' and 'ah yes' you made. Driving deeper into you just to hear you scream 'Daddy!" Everytime.

"Please daddy! It's too deep, it hurts!" You cried out. Your pussy was pulsing as you came, and he was riding your wave to his peak. No matter how much you wanted him to come, he took his sweet time getting there. He loved hearing you beg, to scream his name.

He was feral, and it was all your fault.

With a few more quick thrusts, he stilled himself, shooting his warm seed deep into your womb. You felt it coating your insides — even spilling from your throbbing heat.

"Whew. . ." You felt your husband's breath on your back. He was breathing heavy. He rubbed up and down your back, caressing your asscheeks whenever he could.

"Sorry my precious little flower. I promise to make it up to you."

And he would. How could he not. You were his precious little wife.

And he loved his precious little wife.

#jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami #nanami x reader smut #anime smut #jujitsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #mature themes #smut

14K notes · View notes