#they carve pussy into all their meats and i feel like they need to be studied | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bittwitchy · 1 year

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Melanie Martinez - PORTALS - Sentence Starters

Change pronouns as necessary. Feel free to combine or separate as needed. Content Warnings for: Death, afterlife, reflections on negative past relationships, period talk and kinks (moon cycle), guns, sexual situations, drowning, etc.

DEATH

“Death is life.” “They’re carving my name on the grave again.” “Their flowers are fresh and their faces wet.” “My body has died but I’m still alive.” “Look over your shoulder, I’m back from the dead.” “Sayin’ all the same things.” “I’m gone this time.” “Your words mean nothing, so take them back.” “Meet me here across the plain.” “The other side, I’m not far.” “When you aren’t around I sink into the ground.” “I try to pretend I’m closer to you.” “Never understand it.” “You’re always on my mind.” “I cannot help it.” “I don’t wanna be carrying the weight on my shoulders.” “Death has come to me.” “Kissed me on the cheek, gave me closure.” “Immortal by design.” “I’ll be meeting you here every time.” “Back from the dead.” “They’re saying my name in their prayers again.” “I flicker the lights so they understand.” “I won’t say goodbye, I’m right by your side.” “We’re screaming and pleading this separation ends.” “Doing all your witchcraft to pull me in.” “Burning all your sage to connect our line.” “I show my presence, you run away in fear of ghosts.” “I try to talk, the barriers are too strong.” “Please don’t ever worry.” “I know it’s morbid.” “But we all die one day.” “I’m back from the dead.” “I’m back.”

VOID

“In the void.” “I’m spinning around the corner.” “I’m tasting kind of lonely.” “My mind wants to control me.” “There’s rotten things left in me.” “Injected by society.” “No one here but me to judge me.” “Pipe down with the noise.” “I cannot bear my sorrow.” “I hate who I was before.” “I fear I won’t live to see the day tomorrow.” “Someone tell me if this is hell.” “I got to escape the void.” “There is no other choice.” “Tryna turn down the voices” “The void ate me.” “Look at the mess I’ve done.” “There is nowhere to run.” “Holding a loaded gun.” “Like a priest behind confession walls, I judge myself.” “My eyes are staring at me, they seem so damn unhappy.” “Collect my fickle insecurities.” “Turn them into beauty.” “Alchemize the dark within me.” “Kneeling on a metal grater.” “Bloody like a body that has died.” “Tangled in my own intestines.”

TUNNEL VISION

“Follow the tunnel into the portal.” “Lay all your burdens to rest.” “Drink from the fountain, death’s holy water.” “Watch as you’re put to the test.” “I make them panic.” “It’s satanic how I bend my body.” “You can look, but you can’t touch.” “I’m not just anybody.” “Caught in a haze and hypnotized.” “You’re too thirsty.” “Open your view and you will find.” “Stop searching.” “Eyes on the prize.” “Thought the cherry would be better than the pie.” “You like that.” “That’s your demise.” “You hold me like you’re rushing to my thighs.” “Too fast.” "But your focus is empty.” “Tunnel vision, then dead me.” “Honeysuckle and fresh meat.” “But I’m more than that, more than that.” “Playing house to distract me.” “You’re no good at acting.” “Obvious what you’re after.” “They always hustle for the pussy, so they’ll never get it.” “I’ll make them tumble down the hill they climbed.” “I don’t regret it.” “I saw that trick fall out your sleeve.” “I’m so certain.” “You hum a tune I don’t believe. It ain’t working.” “Crossing my heart.” “I’d rather die than be the needle in your eye.” “Show me how far obsession goes.” “Could’ve been more, now we’ll never know.”

FAERIE SOIRÉE

“The blue stars running down my forehead.” “Cold wings flutter when they’re moving.” “Mushrooms everywhere I’m turning.” “Laced with love, intensive grooving.” “I know how to make you go crazy every day.” “Tease your mind and trick you, you really wanna stay.” “I know a way to make you lose your pace.” “If you wanna run with the magic, lose sight of the gravity of weight.” “Lips of sugar.” “I’m breathing the pheromones again.” “Hands are tied and miranda rights mean nothing.” “Led me astray to the faerie soirée.” “Now I wanna run with magic.” “Lose sight of the gravity of home.” “Somewhere on venus, they’re searching for me.” “While I’m covered in the muck of the earth and the sea.” “Scratching my carcass like dogs with fleas.” “I keep leaning to dying in all of my dreams.” “Gather me, all of we, everyone.” “I’ve been the boys and the girls, and everyone in between.”

LIGHT SHOWER

“You are the light I’ve been searching for forever.” “I’ve really never felt the rain.” “Buried in the desert, didn’t think I’d push through the dirt.” “You just cleansed me like a waterfall.” “I’m screaming like a kettle on a stove.” “You cranked the heat up, I was cold.” “My past grew mold around my heart.” “All my anger, sadness, regret disappeared, it’s madness.” “I’m not used to all this water love, it’s true.” “But you made me want to plan out my last days on earth eating you.” “The tips of your teeth fit perfectly in me.” “You’re a shower of light I’d devour any day of the week.” “Baby, cleanse me.” “I was surprised to see heaven in your eyes.” “I never once was treated right.” “You’re what I’m missing in my life.” “As bright as the sun.” “Let’s run into another dimension.” “You make me feel like I’m on drugs.”

SPIDER WEB

“I move like a moth or a butterfly.” “Craving a change in the wind.” “I swirl by all the insects and the flies.” “Watching the cycle they’re in.” “Better off dead than wasting my hours flying where I shouldn’t be.” “Flexing like pricks with their stolen power.” “They’re just who the spider will eat.” “Spinning all your silk and moving all your eight legs.” “To build a web that’ll spread through the world.” “Feeding off your highs and lows.” “Curious to see us struggle.” “No one can leave once they merge.” “I’m hiding myself from the enemy.” “I wish to not be perceived.” “Didn’t ask for this dangerous ability.” “I’m feeling too scared to sleep.” “Better off dead than stuck in a maze.” “The center may seem like a gift.” “Big bite, they liquify the insides first.” “Wrap them tight, securing their spot in the spider web.” “Up all night, bound to their addiction to it.” “Lifeless eyes, they die in the pit of the spider’s web.”

LEECHES

“Leeches surrounded, conscious is throbbing.” “They can’t sleep at night, hold their pillows tight.” “Caught in the river of tears I cried.” “Bountiful harvest, they flock to my garden.” “Push their way inside, I go run and hide.” “They lift all the covers, pull me into their sight.” “Slimy and superficial.” “Straining their yapping to seem official.” “Making it beneficial to their cause.” “How much blood can you draw with your claws?” “From a flesh that’s not yours?” “My hands aren’t yours.” “Gnaw on my bones, no marrow.” “Left to keep you enthralled.” “I guess that is the luck of the draw.” “Let all their friends in, the enemies present.” “They don’t think too hard about your fragile heart.” “They eat off the table you set so you starve.” “Stop all your breathing.” “No, don’t let them see you.” “They find any way just to make you stay.” “Right where they want you, in their piss colored games.” “

BATTLE OF THE LARYNX

“Falling asleep by the arcade.” “Liquor it jumps off your tongue.” “You used all your words for a quick game.” “Blew it all before you won.” “There’s musical chairs in my teeth.” “Poke me to battle, I’ll jump on the saddle.” “I’ll smile as you fall to your feet.” “And they talk without thinking.” “They bark while they’re shaking.” “Teeth that are round and dull.” “And they yell while they’re chasing.” “I’m steady pacing.” “My syllables hit the floor.” “How stupid, selfish baby.” “Don’t you battle with my larynx tonight.” “I’ll wreck you if you chase me.” “But I’ll be silent til you cross the line.” “So crude and selfish baby.” “Call all your guys in the dive bar.” “They’ll give you the validation your daddy could never bestow you.” “While bloody, They’ll tell you’ve won.”

THE CONTORTIONIST

“Twisted all my limbs for you.” "Two of them in knots and two of them in loops.” “Ribbons tied around like a noose.” “Wonder if I’ll ever get it loose.” “I don’t wanna bruise for you.” “Holding my words back until my face is blue.” “I don’t really care about your crew.” “You can tell them what you wanted to.” “Bones are crushing.” “Pushing me.” “Body’s touching.” “Loving me.” “Blood is pumping” “Pulling me.” “Feeling nothing.” “Fucking me.” “Crushing me.” “Touching me.” “I’m done.” “Done doing backbends, I break and I snap, it’s no fun.” “Pushed myself into a box while you held out a gun.” “Twisting all my bones like screws.” “Stretching my self worth just like you usually do.” “Caught you like a cold or the flu.” “Praying that I’ll some day be immune.” “Got me like a bad tattoo.” “Always under skin, even when it gets removed.” “Never got a chance to undo.. positions that you forced my way into.”

MOON CYCLE

“Why you always act so serious?” “I said, baby boy, you know I’m on my period.” “He bit the cherry down, he’s delirious.” “Seeing red figures in his mirrors.” “Acting like a real tough, furious.” “Blood swimming, turn him amphibious.” “Says he doesn’t care that he’s into this.” “It happens every time a new season hits.” “Getting ready for my heavy daily creme.” “Keep it handy, womb shedding.” “Any lessons making room for blessings.” “Juice melting like raspberry, pomegranate, it’s so scary.” “My aura got him howling at my moon cycle.” “Now he kissing on the ground that I walk on.” “Tryna get another taste, but I’m all cramped up.” “Pain like a blade on a front lawn.” “But I don’t give a fuck cause I’m so strong.” “I don’t gotta act, I’m a theorist.” “I could win a fight on my period.” “Matter of fact, right now, I could build a pyramid.” “You messing with my cycle, that’s dangerous.”

NYMPHOLOGY

“Call my your nymph.” “Praise me for martyr, praise me for sin.” “Call me your muse.” “A sprite or an elf you cry to then use.” “I will not suffer.” “Cry under covers.” “I’m not your mother.” “It’s nymphology, not psychology.” “Be the manic pixie dream girl that you fucking ought to be.” “Damaged oddity, bought by sothebys.” “Auctioned to a selfish man who thinks he’s the prophecy.” “You can’t even spell but you’re an ‘expert’.” “It’s not fiction, I’m not fae.” “I won’t lick your wounds today.” “But I’ll throw you in the ring.” “Get you with my suffering.” “I’m not crazy, I’m not wild.” “You’re just stupid, little child.” “Get your image off my back.” “I’ll give you a heart attack.” “Don’t treat me that way.” “You’re acting like a wannabe.” “I won’t be ashamed for loving you so honestly.” “You’re in the spell and it worked.” “Did not return in the hurt.” “I’m kicking your ass out.” “Flutter my wings while I pout.” “Push your penis into your mouth. I’ll make you choke on your doubt.” “Cut you off, watch you die. Just a fairy with the knife.” “Diamonds and rubies, the stars in all the movies.” “I am her favorite locket.” “Their semi-precious stones ain’t as cold and luxurious.” “Where did I get refined, get my cuts and my polishes?” “I am too many karats for your budget.” “Your boyfriend tried me on, wore me out, made him cooler.” “Like moldavite or emeralds.” “It will be the brightest, brightest green you’ve ever seen.” “Ancient and it’s protective.” “So rare it is offensive, I think you will agree.”

EVIL

“You called the other day, I stayed away.” “I left your shit on read four times today.” “It felt like bliss, used to miss your kiss.” “Now I’m hop, skip, jumping over narcissists.” “Throwing all your stuff into the abyss.” “Now the role is reversed, told you I’m a switch.” “How’d you like my spit?” “That’s for all the pits that you left me in.” “See the horns on my head? They’re from goddesses.” “No, I never knew what it meant.” “What it meant to be content with you.” “Everything I expressed, I professed, it never quite made it through.” “Said it’s all in my head, all in my head, whenever I spoke my truth.” “No! I won’t defend you to all my friends, this time I refuse!” “If you bite my hand again, I will never feed you, you can call me evil.” “Take it to the grave, if you wanna play pretend.” “I won’t be mistreated, please call me conceited.” “Took me way too long to put this to bed.” “Loving you was lethal, guess that makes me evil.” “Remember when you smiled right to my face?” “All of my little tears of oxalate.” “They made a shape, revealed a snake.” “Now I’m stop-drop rolling over all your jokes.” “Everytime you lie, I’m praying that you choke.” “Should’ve listened to the signs and the horoscopes.” “Hope you never cope, hope you slip on soap.” “Crack your head like an egg, wanna see the yolk.” “You’re such a hoax.”

WOMB

“I see the mother in the chosen space for me.” “Little does she know it’s free.” “I’m undercover, as they wait for joy I cry.” “On a mission in the dark.” “I know my brother, he’ll make the journey later on.” “Conversations in the cosmos.” “It’s all a game now.” “Once I’m in the world, it’s lost.” “Memories gone to evolve.” “Merging cells and flesh.” “I’m baby building all my insides, bright to see the future.” “Right before my eyes, I know.” “In the womb, let me out, not safe but I’m sound.” “Cut the cord, I’m coming.” “Got the blue belly button, too hard to pull through with it.” “All I know she’s birthin’.” “Feeling alive, the closer I get to my life.” “I’m pushing through the center, the core.” “I’m sweating through the flower no more.” "All of the planning.” “Yet I still feel unprepared.” “Kick and screaming, cause I’m scared.” “And I know she suffers, contractions with howling death.” “Eyes are bloody, screaming out.” “Merging spirit, mind and body.” “Bright to see the future.”

POWDER

"Don't wanna know where you're going when you aren't alone" "You'd rather stay the night, too much to believe" "Blood falling out from your nose and I'm wonderin' how." "You glamorize your pain, wear it on display" "And I know it's a cry for help, boy, help yourself" "I opened a million doors, you never go" "It's past point of no return, when will we learn?" "Alert me when this shit is over" "Lying loud, Through it all." "Cut your face from the fall." "When you're hurt, who'd you call?" "I can't answer now." "Confidence from up high." "One way street to the stars." "clean it up, watch you die." "It's yours to decide." "Show me a picture you paint of someone else." "Lived a double life, wish I was surprised" "Eyes rollin' back to your head" "I recognize our faith, put it all to waste"

PLUTO

"I'm hauling an outdated show" "The walls around me are so close, caving in, oh no" "Some other friends that I thought were forever" "And now wanna sever the ties" "The seats have been spotted, I'm no longer doubting" "I think that it's finally time" "Pluto destroy me, kill me off slowly" "I'll bathe in my ashes, rise like a phoenix" "Show me who I am becoming" "Pluto, transform me, turn off my lonely" "I'll sit with my silence, fix all my conflict" "Show me the demons I'm hiding" "I'm turning to expired routes, help me move on" "There's nothing in this tired town for me, no more" "What once was a home is a hell I can't manage" "So send me out, I'm packin' it up" "Everything's blurry, I don't wanna worry" "The pain from this growing is rough, oh"

MILK/LECHE OF THE SIRENS

"Drink from the leche of sirens" "Summon the sailors in town" "Strangle the fear of deciding" "Which one's deserving to drown" "Engraved in our memory, the harm that was done" "Our mothers, the witches they banished and burned" "All of our sisters were killed and abused" "By sword-swinging men who would always accuse" "The worst of a woman who fights for our right" "To be where we belong at the front of the line" "Tired of silence and being polite" "Your legs turn to shimmering scales in the night" "Don't feel bad when these fuckers all drown" "Tenderness worn on the skin like a dress" "Nurture these men, pull them out of their mess" "They steal the resources, destroy all the land" "Belittle the power of the feminine hand" "The milk from the rivers of every moon" "Cradle you tight like you're back in the womb" "Bury their souls in a cove by the light" "Celestial dip all that ego and pride" "Nothing wrong with a little havoc" "It's fun when shit hits the fan" "So guillotine their heads by shouting" "Cut 'em off, leave waters red"

#melanie martinez #melanie martinez lyrics #lyric sentence starters #starter sentence memes #melanie martinez sentence starters #memes #rp sentence starters #rp sentence memes #rp memes #roleplay memes #idk what else to tag this as lmao

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tk5150 · 2 years

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Jingle Bells

The door was open, letting the snow enter the room, what once was warm now turned cold, signs of struggle in the living room, Christmas tree knocked over, and blood all over the house, trailing to the kitchen, leading to the oven. The smell of cooked meat permeated the house. Y/n cheerfully skipped to the kitchen to base the cooking meat and then closed the front door. The sounds of whimpering echoing in the back room. “Hungry bayybee?” your smile was unnatural. “Please nooo…please baby…no…I promise I’ll be good…please no more limbs,” Izuku pleaded. “Why sweetcheeks…you said I was cute enough to eat…well….I think you're cute enough to eat as well” you giggled. “I’m losing a lot of blood baby…please…I need a doctor” Izuku sobbed. Kneeling before your captor you giggle “awww…come on Deku…surely this doesn’t hurt as much as you hurt me” you awed at him. Tears and snot on his face, sweat soaked the pillows he looked straight ahead watching his bandaged bloodied knob where his leg used to be. His head dugged in the pillow because of sheer pain, he was hyperventilating from the pain of his missing leg. He heard an alarm dinging which alerted you to skip to the kitchen. “The Christmas meal is done…hurray!” you chuckled.

Taking out the cooked meat you happily let it set so the juices won't seep out of it. You proceeded to make some side dishes. As you carved into the cooked meat and made Izuku a plate you happily piled on the meat. Cause after all Izuku is going to need his strength for the festivities. She stepped into the shared room where she was kept in captivity. “Hey baby…your meal is ready” you smiled, placing the plate on the nightstand. “No…please don’t make me y/n…please” Izuku pleaded. “I think…no…I know your hungry love bug” you smiled at his sobbing form. Cutting the meat into uniform pieces she scooped some of the sides and meat. Izuku closed his mouth shut and turned his head. “Baby open your mouth after all you gonna need your strength for tonight's activities” you giggled. Pinching Izuku’s nose shut, Izuku opened his mouth for air and that's when you stuffed his mouth with the food. “There…do you like it…I made it with love” you giggled. Izuku didn’t dare spit out because he knew the outcome of that action if he did. He was crying while chewing on the food knowing it was himself he was tasting. He had no choice but to eat this vile meal that his once captive cooked so lovingly for him. In tears he kept eating until every morsel on that vile plate was finished. “I’m so happy that you finished the meal Izuku” you cheerfully said to your captor. You gathered the empty plate and took it to the kitchen and then served another helping of the holiday meal once again to him. You stepped back into the bedroom and when Izuku saw the second helping he sobbed and quickly kept on nodding his head. “No, no, no, no, no please y/n…I’ll do anything…not a second plate” Izuku sobbed out. You tilted your head and smiled.

“You kept me in this room for years now…I’m only returning the favor baby” you said. “Since you can’t ‘walk’ I'll just have to bring Christmas to you” you giggled while skipping to the living room. You picked up the fallen tree and carried it back to the shared room. “Now where is the plug?” you wondered. After all, you have to plug in the lovely Christmas tree lights for him. “Baby…care for dessert?” you smiled while pulling down your panties. Izuku was weak from the pain and sobbing. You climbed on the bed hovering over Izuku’s face “Open wide…say ahhh” you said while sitting on his face. The tears and snot from his recent sob made your pussy artificially wet. “You never enjoyed getting my pussy eaten by you whatsoever…but…now that I am in control…mmm…it feels so good” you moaned while gripping your breasts. Riding Izuku’s face you looked back and noticed that his cock wasn’t hard. Disappointed “ummm…baby? How come your cock isn’t hard?” you slowly got off of his face. “I’m in pain YOU BITCH!!” Izuku yelled out. “Oh…we’re going to have a very good Christmas” you said while slowly closing the door. The sounds of Jingle Bells and Izuku’s screams filled the air.

Dashing through the snow…In a one-horse open sleigh…O'er the fields we go

Laughing all the way…Bells on bobtails ring…Making spirits bright

What fun it is to ride and sing…A sleighing song tonight

Jingle bells, jingle bells…Jingle all the way…Oh, what fun it is to ride

In a one-horse open sleigh, hey…Jingle bells, jingle bells…Jingle all the way

Oh, what fun it is to ride…In a one-horse open sleigh

#yandere deku #insanity #cannibalism #shoes in the other foot

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zukosdumbbitch · 4 years

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friction

work on ao3

pairing: jet/f reader

warnings: smut, arguing

wordcount: 1873

a/n: im srry but i needed to get this Out of my brain. characters are 18+

It was just at the crack of dusk and you were tidying up the room you shared with Jet in the freedom fighters’ scattered treehouse. You were Jet’s age, the two of you barely functioning adults, stubborn, opinionated, and to Jet, devastatingly alluring. He loved the clashing of your personalities, the way you so often disagreed with him and kept him on his toes. He loved his absolute authority in the group, but more than that, he loved a pretty girl deliberately challenging it.

You didn’t mind the arguments as much as you maybe should have. You saw through manipulation like sunlight through a clean window - clearly, immediately, and without doubt. Jet knew better than to mess with your head. And you knew he had a real soft spot for you - despite how much he’d try to hide it around others. You really liked him, even if he was a real pain in the ass sometimes.

Today was one of many designated days Jet and his favorite group of fighters would scout your woods and the neighboring areas. They would come back with food, that they stole, hunted, or plucked from wild plants, or with news about strangers arriving in the area and discussion of whether or not they were a threat. Jet would often return late, having taken it upon himself to do one last sweep of your unofficial territory. Normally you would join him, but you had stayed back to help the younger orphans patch up their clothes or whatever toys they managed to keep.

You carefully put your sewing kit back together, counting all the needles and neatly winding the thread. You closed the small wooden box and noticed a figure appear in your peripherals.

“Hey, baby.” You heard Jet say and you turned to see him leaning in your makeshift doorway, curtain draped behind him.

You went to embrace him and his hands came to rest on your waist. “Any good finds today?” You asked.

“Yeah, Longshot got a nice rabbit. Shot it right in the eye.” Jet pointed to his eye and you made a face. You hated killing animals, but their meat was good food and their fur provided material for blankets and clothes. Jet’s ever present smirk widened teasingly at your reaction. “He’s preparing it with Smellerbee. We’ll have a good breakfast tomorrow. Plus, I got you something.”

You looked at him curiously and he pulled out a glittery silver chain from the pouch hanging on his hip. Hung from it was a round, honey-orange stone with a simple lily carved into its surface, similar to the pai sho tile. “Oooh,” You cooed, taking the necklace into your hands and feeling the smooth stone. “It’s beautiful. Where’d you get this?” You contemplated the material of the stone. Was it amber? Carnelian?

Jet stiffened and said nothing. He found it hard to lie to you. Of course.

“You didn’t jump another innocent person did you?” You asked, desperate for him to say no.

His brows furrowed.

“Jet!” You scolded and he snatched the jewelry from your grasp.

“Smellerbee was right. Shouldn’t have given it to you.” He said bitterly, shouldering past you into the room.

“You can’t keep doing that to people! Did you take all their money and food again? Did you at least let them go without beating them senseless?” You prodded. Your anger boiled in your voice, remembering all the times he returned with food stolen from nomads and the other times that ended in violent confrontation.

“I don’t know why you have to get so upset! They could have been a Fire Nation spy for all you know!” Jet shot back, arms raised.

“Not everyone is a fucking Fire Nation spy, Jet!”

“Yeah, because you would totally know one if you saw one. I very clearly remember having to save your ass after getting kidnapped by a soldier!” He stepped closer, towering over you.

You, however, would not back down. “That doesn’t mean you need to beat up and rob every stranger you see! What is wrong with you?”

“I am trying to protect these kids!” Jet shouted, nostrils flaring.

You were red with anger from his lack of empathy. “At the expense of literally everyone else?” You hollered back.

Suddenly, Jet grabbed your face and smashed his lips to yours. Your fingers knotted into his dark hair. It wasn’t uncommon for your arguments to end like this. It was your way of forgiving one another.

Jet pulled away, teeth pinching your bottom lip and pulling. “You’re the worst.” You groaned and Jet pushed you down to the bed.

“You’re so god damn annoying.” He responded as his lips chased yours and he pulled you in for another searing kiss.

His hands wandered down your backside, grabbing your ass and kneading the soft flesh. You hissed against his lips, hands fumbling with the closure on his pants and untucking his shirt. His tongue lined your mouth, making you shiver as you pushed the makeshift armor from his clothes. He gave your ass a hard smack and you yelped in surprise.

“Why does everything have to be a problem with you?” Jet gruffed against your lips.

“You cause problems, Jet!”

He growled into your jaw and pushed you unto your back. He pushed your knees apart so he could press himself close to you, hips digging into yours. You groaned, tugging on his hair as his lips traced your jaw. His teeth dug into your neck in a hard bite and sucked at your skin, only moving along once he saw deep purple gathering in the indents of his teeth. You squirmed when he found your soft spot, thighs rubbing uncomfortably against his sides and you rolled your hips back against his. Jet was relentless, marking up your neck and collarbones and you impatiently tugged at his shirt and whined.

Jet leaned back on his heels and discarded his shirt and wrist wrappings. You pulled your own shirt over your head and rid of the binder confining your breasts and Jet was upon you once again. He palmed your breasts and his lips trailed down your body. He tugged at your pants and you heard the button snap off.

“You need to stop fucking tearing my clothes!” You seethed.

Jet responded by silencing you with a harsh kiss. He pulled again at your pants and you pushed them down along with your underwear as far as your position would allow. Jet sat up and tore the rest of your clothes from your body and began to make work of his own. You watched him, taking in the lean muscles that rippled under his golden brown skin.

Jet grabbed you under your knees and tugged you forward before taking his erection in his hand and rubbing it across the wetness along your folds. You keened, bucking your hips for more attention and Jet smirked down at you.

“You want it, baby?” He asked, voice husky with lust.

You nodded, grasping his shoulders.

“Beg for it.” Jet commanded.

You groaned. “No.”

Jet growled, smacking your thigh. “Beg or I won’t let you cum for the rest of the month.”

You scoffed at him. “I don’t need you to do that.”

Jet grabbed your face in one hand and pressed his lips back yours in an angry kiss, teeth clashing. He rubbed the tip of his dick slowly against your clit, making your hips roll. “Beg for it.”

“Sounds more like you’re that one that’s begging.” You panted.

Jet grunted in frustration and conceded, slamming into you with one swift thrust of his hips. You mewled loudly and clawed at his shoulders. He gave you no time to catch your breath and held you down by your throat, setting a bruising pace that left your eyes rolling. You hiked your thighs high on his torso and dug your heels into his back.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Jet moaned. He grabbed under your knee and pressed your thigh next to your chest, allowing him to fuck you deeper. You squirmed under his constraint, whining helplessly as that knot built in your belly. You reached down to rub your aching clit, but Jet caught your wrist. “Nah-uh, baby girl. You’re gonna have to get off on just my dick.”

You had no response, the fast pace of his hips making any words you could form catch in your throat. You clenched around him and raked your nails down his back, digging as hard as you could into his skin and eliciting a groan.

Jet suddenly pulled out and spanked you. “On your stomach, baby.”

You rolled over and Jet quickly possessed your hips, pushing back into you without hesitation. If he was brutal before, now he was just ruthless. “Oh fuck!” You cried, moaning into your pillow.

Jet gathered your wrists against your back and plowed into you. Tears brimmed at your eyes with how good he was making you feel and you pressed your hips back against his thrusts with all the strength that was left in you. You were getting close to your orgasm, that knot winding tighter and tighter as your pussy clenched hard around his cock.

You heard Jet let out a deep moan and that was all it took. You trembled, expletives leaving your mouth as Jet fucked you hard through your orgasm. “Fuck yes, baby girl, cum on my cock.” Jet praised and grabbed your ass with both hands. Your newly freed fists knotted into the sheets as you mewled at the overstimulation, thighs quaking and giving out under you.

“So good,” You cooed, Jet grabbing your shoulder to pull you back against him.

You let him continue to slam into your tender g-spot, loving every second of your drawn-out high. Jet swore and pulled out to release on your back.

You allowed yourself to go limp against the bed and Jet fell unto his back beside you. You tried to catch your breath.

Jet grabbed a scrap of cloth from the nightstand and threw it at you.

You rolled your eyes as you took it. “Don’t be fucking rude.” You grumbled, though your words had little bite.

Jet sighed. You both laid in silence for a few moments and you found your canteen and took a swig water.

Jet put out his hand. "Let me get that."

You secured the cap and answered, "No."

Jet looked at you incredulously. You stared back and he began to move toward you. You hid the canteen behind you. "Y/N!" He scolded and you giggled as he grasped at it and you held it from his reach.

"Say you'll stop jumping people for no reason." You insisted.

"Baby girl, I can't promise you anything." He swung at your hand, but you managed to keep him from grabbing it.

You frowned at him. He got a hold of your wrist and despite your protests, he took the canteen. "Dick." You pouted.

Jet took a healthy gulp of water and said, "Y'know, all we did was search him and take that pendant. We didn't hurt him."

"Still shouldn't have taken it."

Jet swung an arm around you and pulled you in to kiss your forehead. "Whatever, baby."

#here it is #jet x reader #jet atla #jet smut #f reader #smut #nyx writes #🙈#fic

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unholyplumpprincess · 3 years

Text

Self Care

Commission for @ago-fucks of miragehound/reader with reader getting pampered after working such long nights and being exhausted. They’re spoiled with lots of domestic fluff in the beginning and then lots of orgasms.

Reblogs > Likes. It cost zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D

Relationship: Mirage/Bloodhound/Reader

Fandom: Apex Legends

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Reader has a vulva, Mirage is trans and words to describe are cunt/clit/pussy, Bloodhound has a penis and words described are dick/cock, Ago’s headcanons and not mine so Bloodhound is written different!, Fluff, sex ofc, but otherwise nothin rough?, collars, mentions of safe words/signals but only cause it’s heALTHY

Words: 5k

___________________

When you were in a relationship with two of the infamous Apex games legends, you learned really quickly that every day would be a new surprise. At least, in the beginning. Now comfortably having been together for a few years, you find yourself immersed in both of them in a familiarity that brings warmth to your chest.

Though their jobs may have been going into a mini battlefield and shooting each other up on a daily basis for the seasons, that didn’t stop you from working at your own job. Art was a difficult field to pursue. From the schooling to the finding a job part. You loved your job, able to chase your passion! Yet, you were still very worked to the bone and found yourself aching from hunching over your desk to work through these character concepts for an upcoming cartoon. Your legs ached with the need to move from their constant folded position and all in all you were just tired.

Thankfully, your partners were ever so careful with you when they were home for the season ends. Bloodhound was always first to lie you out for a massage, kissing over your jaw and neck or down the line of your spine with utter gentleness. Elliott was a good listener, letting you rest your head in his lap while he stroked your hair and you either whined or excitedly showed him the new concepts via your phone. Both were entirely supportive, but also concerned for your wellbeing.

~Rest under the cut~

So, you’d come home today. Tired and murmuring in a quieter voice as you rubbed at your eyes, nursing a migraine. Elliott had suggested a quiet movie, already knowing you’d fall asleep during it even if you tried to whine otherwise. And lo and behold, not thirty minutes into it, you’d fallen asleep on the couch. Head on Elliott’s thigh while he stroked through your hair, and legs thrown over Bloodhound’s lap who was lovingly stroking down your thigh to your knee, then back.

“They need a day of spoiling.” Elliott murmurs, low enough not to wake you but loud enough for Bloodhound to hum in agreement. Elliott traces around your ear, tucking your hair and smiling when you sigh and nose at his thigh in return. “When’s their next day off?”

“Mmh. Tomorrow, I believe.” Bloodhound murmurs in return, stroking up to your hip to gently fix your shirt back into place that had ridden up. Stroking back down your thigh and smiling softly as you squirm a bit. “Let us get them into bed and we can discuss something. I am sure they would like your cooking. If you are up for it.” With that said, they carefully move your legs off their lap, watching you snuggle closer to Elliott. Carefully, they scoop under your body. Powerful arms able to cradle you as they go to tuck you into bed.

When you wake in the morning, your senses are first assaulted by the scent of pancakes cooking downstairs. You grumble a bit, feeling warm arms holding you in bed and a solid body pressed against you. A small turn of your head into their neck proves to be a mini space heater and the scent of pine and cinnamon. You smile, nosing into Bloodhound’s neck and feeling a scar residing there. “Good morning.” You murmur tiredly.

You hear them hum softly, already awake and aware as their fingers trace up under your shirt on your back. Smoothing their warm, calloused hands up your spine then back down. “Breakfast is not ready yet. You still had a few moments of rest,” They start, moving a hand from your back to gently cup your cheek, drawing you from your warm spot so you may make eye contact. Brown eyes so deep they could be black peer back at you, forming half little moons as they narrow in amusement at your sleepy appearance. “Torskildir- you are lovely, my dear.”

You laugh at them instead, sitting up on your shoulder so you could kiss one of their scarred, soft cheeks. “And you, are incredibly sappy in the mornings.” Their smile only deepens at you, dimples forming on their cheeks and wrinkles at the corners of their eyes. Beautiful, you think.

When you two finally do crawl out of bed, with Bloodhound insisting that you dress comfy for today and that they both had plans for you, you obey and only change into lounging clothing. They stay without a mask as you two head downstairs, only to be met by Elliott who has a bit of batter smeared on his cheek but beautiful wild berry and wild violet pancakes made. Freshly picked by Bloodhound this morning. You near about tear up at both your partners’ sweetness, sharing a good morning kiss with Elliott and remarking that he must have tasted the ingredients before fixing them together. Which earns you a cheeky grin and a finger over his lips that Bloodhound rolls their eyes at.

Throughout the day they spoil you in little ways. You all three end up sitting down for a marathon of your favorite movies, complete with blankets and you napping partial ways through them. Attention of your hair being petted and your legs causing you to go into a tired little stupor every now and then. You occasionally peek open your eyes to keep watching, or to turn your head and receive much needed kisses from Elliott, his stubble tickling your face.

When lunch time comes around, you’re not too hungry from a big breakfast so Bloodhound settles on making a little something with fresh herbs and berries. Fresh mint and different flora add an aesthetic touch to the fruit salads that make them even tastier.

You’re spoiled even then, taking berries from Elliott’s fingers and playfully sucking on his thumb’s fingertip when he lingers too long. Relishing as his face turns three shades darker and he averts his gaze with a soft, nervous laugh as he draws his hand from you. Bloodhound, who had been watching from close by, snuggled deep in their parka for the cooler weather, had merely smirked ever so knowingly at you.

They meet Elliott’s eyes who offers a charming half smile as they have a silent conversation together briefly.

Once it reaches dinner time, you’re kicked out of the kitchen much to your whining. Muninn and Arthur are even kicked from the kitchen, but you’re sure it’s just to keep you out of it. Arthur is much more snuggly, bringing you trinkets he finds around the house with little hops and crooning at you if you pick them up and thank him. Muninn lingers near your head, much more interested in preening your hair and watching the movie on the screen that’s playing in black and white with soft jazz coming from it.

Occasionally you get up, hearing the birds hopping after you as an alert to Bloodhound who easily comes sliding out of the kitchen to guide you back to the couch with harmless scolding. Their parka has been long since discarded for the warmer kitchen, now in dark tactical pants that fit them just right and a tight black tunic. You want to run your hands over their scarred, dark haired arms, and you try to but they gently shoo you away with a soft kiss to your nose. “Later, beloved. Be patient.” Is all the promise they give you before heading back to the kitchen.

You curse that their little cottage isn’t an open concept so you could watch them. Left to hear them idly talking with the music playing from Elliott’s speakers. Occasionally you hear giggling and some soft sounds that sound suspiciously like kissing and you can't help but smile every time at the happy noises.

You were so lucky.

When you’re finally allowed into the kitchen, you’re guided to the dining table made by hand from Bloodhound. The whole kitchen is carved by hand as well, now looking like a proper home with little nick nacks from their ravens, Elliott, and yourself on the shelving. Some dishes need to be washed, but otherwise everything is rather picked up already.

You’re already excited to dive in. Elliott happily introducing his glazed porkchops that you like so much and hand mashed potatoes. Once again, another item grown in Bloodhound’s beautiful garden outside, but the meat was from a local butcher. Herbs for seasonings collected from their indoor garden sitting on the nearby windowsill.

Bloodhound, since berries were in season and plentiful, had made a blueberry pie. The cut work was beautifully done lain on top for the crust to be little cut outs of hearts. Elliott proudly exclaims that he helped, only for Bloodhound to make a pointed gesture to the little heart cookie cutter and Elliott having to defend himself. It WAS still helping, he’d whined!

Your laughter makes them both stop to stare at you with absolute adoration in their eyes that you see when you peek open your eyes and flush to your ears at the attention.

Dinner goes nicely. Elliott is a little magician as always, getting up at some point and showing off a magic trick involving making a decoy with himself to pull another decoy out of seemingly nowhere. Fit with both you and Bloodhound clapping for him and watching him bow at the waist all dramatically.

Bloodhound tells stories from their trips for the past week and why your freezer was stocked with a foreign meat. Not to mention their delight in foraging the fresh berries going around. They talk happily of their own garden as well, thanking Elliott for helping them set it up and get dirty today by collecting potatoes for dinner.

The clean up afterwards you’re not even allowed to help. You try collecting dishes like you would on a regular day and you’re shooed away. You at least put up a fit, a little pout and say you’ll just watch. Bloodhound tries to argue, but Elliott gently bumps them with his hip playfully. “Aw, come on, babe. You ain’t gotta deny them EVERYTHING. If they want to watch the show of ‘house spouse extraordinaire’ playing LIVE in person right now, who are we to stop them?” He then laughs a bit at his own joke before flexing his arms upwards, making his shirt rise to show his midriff and the dark patch of hair going up to his navel. You can’t help but shamelessly stare. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to watch THIS play house husband of the year?”

Even Bloodhound is staring at the little bit of flesh exposed. Elliott left standing like that until he finally figures out why no one is laughing or saying anything back when he catches both of your hungry stares. He scoffs out a choked laugh, cheeks warming and holding a hand flat up to the both of you in a gesture as if you two were hungry lions that he needed to ward off. “Alright you predators, you can look later.”

And you would. In depth. Pay close attention, you decide, thinking about looking at way more later. Not that you had any idea they already had plans for you later in the bedroom.

It’s Elliott who winds up leading you to the bedroom as Bloodhound finishes up the rest of the dishes. He guides you softly to bed, the sheets and furs on it tossed this way and that. Thankfully you three had a huge bed that spanned a whole wall of the room, courtesy of Bloodhound’s ability to build who said it was a tragedy that beds did not come big enough for a pack like yours.

Softly, Elliott cups your cheek and thumbs over the soft flesh there as he sits next to you. You smile softly, leaning into his palm and already knowing what he wants. He was always much softer about his wants, almost anxious. “Are you up for fooling around tonight?” He murmurs with such softness, his thumb sliding over your bottom lip where you pucker to press a soft kiss to his thumb pad. You hum in agreement back to him, but he just laughs softly. “Need to hear you say it, baby.”

Your lips quirk up at his soft tone, peeking open your eyes half lidded to peer at him. Catching Bloodhound slipping into the room behind him to come approaching softly. “I’d like to, yes.” You offer full consent, watching when Bloodhound’s lips pull into a charming crooked smile, but their eyes scream primal.

“We want to pamper you.” Elliott continues softly, drawing your attention back to him. You can’t see Bloodhound, but you feel them slip behind your body to set hands on your waist, lips pressing warmly to the nape of your neck. Elliott keeps your attention on him, leaning in until you’re near nose to nose and your breath hitches at the closeness. Your own eyes flicking down to his lips and flicking your tongue out to wet your own. “You deserve it. You’ve been working too hard. You won’t have to lift a finger, baby.” His voice is so gentle, lower and almost a hum as he speaks.

Then his lips pull into a charming grin, eyes narrowing as he nuzzles his nose to yours. “Well. Maybe one finger, just a sec,” He moves as he speaks, pulling from you and making you whine. But, Bloodhound takes this moment to pull you back a bit into their lap, sinking their teeth gently into the crook of your neck from behind. It makes you whine faintly, reaching back to fist their coarse, dark auburn hair. They proceed, open mouthed kisses over the exposed flesh they can have at.

Elliott soon returns after a moment or two out of your sight. He has four different collars in his hands, you can hardly focus on him offering them to you when teeth nip at your ear. “T-the- the blue one.” You manage to get out, reaching out to take the light blue collar, the silver heart buckle making your heart flutter.

Thankfully Bloodhound separates from you long enough for Elliott to put it around your neck with utmost gentleness. Buckling it into place and tucking two fingers underneath to make sure you had enough room. You kiss at his retreating hand, eyes sparkling playfully up at him as he smiles back at you. “Alright, sweetheart. Safe words remembered? I don’t think we have anything too hard planned for you,” He pauses briefly to glance at Bloodhound, who must have shaken their head since Elliott nods back in reply as if reaffirming his words. “But, just in case it gets too much?”

“Red for absolutely stop, yellow for a break, green for keep going.” You reply, forming your hand signals for each. You snap twice on red, make a flat palm upwards for yellow, and thumbs up for green. Simple signals for you all to remember. Bloodhound hums behind you appraisingly, licking over where they’d bitten you before just above your collar and effectively distracting you.

Gently your shirt is tugged on from behind, pulling it up and over your head as Elliott leans in to you to press his soft lips to yours. You moan into the kiss softly as he cups your cheek, your pants’ waistband being toyed with by rough hands behind you. Bloodhound’s skilled hands tuck under the waistband to grope at your sex, palming at it and feeling how slick you already are on their fingertips through your underwear. They growl in your ear approvingly, sending a shock down to your core at the same time Elliott bites your bottom lip to draw a sound from you.

You’re soon being moved again, off Bloodhound’s lap to the middle of the bed where they urge you to undress. Elliott crawls up after you to rest by your head, having taken off his shirt to just be left in his sweatpants. Your eyes flicker up to him, catching the sharp-edged scars under his pecs and feel yourself longing to lick and suck at his nipples. You work the rest of your clothing off, shakily exhaling as you lie still and keep your thighs pressed together almost shyly.

“Always so beautiful, precious one.” Bloodhound murmurs, eyeing you up hungrily as their bare hands stroke softly over your thighs. They’re in their tunic from earlier and tactical pants, dressed down in their opinion. Their nails scrape over your outer thighs, down to tuck under your knees and gently spreading your legs. You allow it, going willingly as your legs part and they fit between your knees. They inhale deeply where they sit on their knees, eyes fluttering as their breath comes back out just as shaky. “As delicious as you are stunning, ástin mín.”

Your face flushes pink as they move to lie on their abdomen, warm hands gently holding open your thighs as they nuzzle between your legs. Your cunt flexes around nothing, even before they part you open and lick their way from hole to clit. You shudder, one hand coming up that is taken immediately by Elliott, the other coming down to fist Bloodhound’s hair as they press open mouthed, hot, sloppy kisses over your clit. Gently suckling and pulling on it as your toes curl into the sheets.

“Yeah, keep making that sound.” Elliott encourages when you let out a soft whine. His free hand not holding yours gently strokes over your cheek, pushing back your head when your head twists to bury yourself against his knee. He admires the way your lips part, idly wondering if you’d put your mouth to use too- but, no, this night was all about you.

He can’t help but let his eyes trail down your frame to Bloodhound, whose eyes are half lidded to peer up at your facial expressions. Their tongue flicks over your clit before they open their mouth obviously to drool over your clit, hot breath fanning over you. Elliott’s lips quirk in a small grin when you whine and squeeze his hand harder, undoubtedly fisting Bloodhound’s hair harder in turn. It only earns you a soft chuckle from Bloodhound who relents and drags their tongue over your u-spot to tease before sealing their lips back over your clit.

Elliott’s hand in your hair strokes back your hair from your forehead when your head twists the other way. Letting go of his hand so you can reach down and grab Bloodhound’s hair in both your hands to try and urge them. Your hips thrust upwards, desperately humping against their mouth as you begin to lose it. You can feel yourself drooling slick, eagerly licked up by the oh so talented tongue treating you.

It’s too good. With Elliott’s gentle praising above you and stroking of your hair, the way Bloodhound’s lips mouth and suck on your clit and pressing relentlessly against you, you can’t take it. You squirm and buck upwards, only to find Bloodhound pulling backwards.

Your eyes snap open, a confused whine from your lips. “I thought I was being pampered!” You cry out, your voice strained and breath panting. Bloodhound laughs at you, they can’t help it, nuzzling at your mound and breathing hot air onto you. You obviously pout, still throbbing and body alight, but they shush you softly.

“C’mon, Hound, don’t tease.” Elliott offers, coming to your rescue. You smile up at him in thanks, relishing in the annoyed huff you hear between your thighs. Bloodhound was always such a tease, but at least they get back to work. Nuzzling you open and fixing their tongue back against you. They’re slower than before, less focused on pleasuring you fully and just circling your clit with the point of their tongue. Motherfucker-

Right when you’re about to grab at their hair harder, they introduce a finger stroking over your hole. When you don’t say anything besides ‘please’ repetitively under your breath, they press it inside. Quickly followed by a second when you prove to be wet enough to take it.

With their fingers now scissoring and tongue focused back on you, it takes you maybe a total of thirty seconds before you’re cumming with a cry. Elliott is quick on you, leaning down to kiss you and swallow your soft cries. Licking into your mouth when you can’t seem to focus and taking advantage of your noises. Two of his fingers slip under your collar, gently tugging upwards and Bloodhound at the same time feels you clench and gush around their fingers more.

Absolutely beautiful.

Bloodhound is careful about moving their face from your legs. Only pausing to come back and press open mouthed, sloppy kisses over your clit or gently licking over you. Their fingers never stop, lazily petting upwards inside of you as their own hips grind against the bed to ease their cock. Elliott isn’t doing too better, parting softly from your kiss to gently suck on your jawline to leave a bruise. Moaning into your skin at your very taste and how wet he is himself.

You’re so unfocused from the dual ends of attention. Hips pressing up briefly every time Bloodhound teases you again and tilting your head to the side to allow Elliott more access.

It takes a few moments to regain yourself, but you turn your head just in time to peck at Elliott’s cheek, murmuring softly. “Want you to sit on my face. Please?” It makes him laugh softly, sitting back on his knees to look down at your pleading eyes, face all flushed.

“You know we’re supposed to be spoiling you, right?” He teases, bopping your nose with his index finger in the way that makes you crinkle your nose. You pout harder, more dramatic and he rolls his eyes, relenting as he wiggles out of his pants and boxers without much of a show. But, you and Bloodhound still stare at the flesh exposed.

Elliott has trimmed body hair, always kept tidy unlike Bloodhound’s fluffy mess you enjoy so much. When his boxers are removed, you can see his own sex glistening and wet, hair darker at the slit of his cunt. His clit is enlarged from T, peeking a good amount from his lower lips and looking red from his arousal. You lick your lips eagerly, spreading your legs open and peeking down at Bloodhound who is already working their pants down to mid-thigh.

Bloodhound’s cock is the thickest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. As thick as your wrist, you think. They’re only about five inches long, but the thickness certainly made them a tight fit. Their hair on their body is never trimmed, kept fluffy and wild much like they are. It’s flushed at the head, their hand giving an obligatory stroke so their foreskin pulls back and reveals the shiny, juicy head that makes you drool.

Elliott and you stare shamelessly, watching as their eyes come up and Bloodhound’s cheeks warm to a rosy red. “Elliott-” Their voice warns, and he whines faintly but goes back to paying you attention instead. You only smile cheekily at Bloodhound until they threaten you with a lick over their sharp teeth and a quirked brow until you relent and spread your legs eagerly for them.

You all settle carefully into place, with you eagerly urging Elliott to straddle your face. One strong thigh on either side of your head and his hands flat against the headboard to grip it, peering down at you as you settle your arms over his thighs. You guide him to let you take more of his weight on, nosing at his large clit so you can lick at his drooling hole to tease him.

You’re quickly taken from your small power trip when you feel rough hands sliding over your thighs to draw them over Bloodhound’s waist. Your breath hitches, quickening as you pant softly over Elliott’s sex. He seems into it at least, petting your hair and cooing softly for you to take your time. But you interrupt with a soft squeak of, “Bloodhound-” As a warning, feeling the head of their cock slide from your clit down to your hole and back.

“Elliott-” They reply back in a soft tone, and you can already feel the face they’re making at the back of his head. Watching Elliott’s eyes focus back into reality as he makes an ‘oh’ with his mouth as if remembering.

“Hey, shh, okay look at me. You’ve taken them plenty of times, it’s not like they’ve grown an inch in the past...week? Week and a half?” Elliott reassures, stroking your hair back as you turn your head to kiss at his thigh. Your body is tensed, but slowly begins to relax the more Bloodhound strokes over you. Collecting more lubrication despite how strained their breath sounds. “Houndie, be slow.” He reminds.

“I always am.” They reassure in reply, soft as they pinch your thigh and make you jump briefly with a huff and a look only Elliott can see. They wait, patient as ever until you whine out ‘green’ with desperation. That’s when you feel their thickness pressing into you, ever so gentle and slow as they stroke over your hips and thighs. Strength held back as they grab onto you softly to work into you, one hand cupping your mound to thumb over your clit and making you squirm.

It’s not that they’re long, it’s just that they’re so fucking thick. Bloodhound’s dick was the fattest one you’d ever seen in your life, always a tight fit even with stretching. Your mouth busies itself, guided back to Elliott’s cunt with a help from his hand and a soft coo from him to get to work. Your mouth goes to his clit this time, suckling and licking over the thick flesh as your nose buries against his mound.

When Bloodhound is fully sheathed inside of you, you can hardly hear the way they growl over Elliott’s thighs acting as terrific ear warmers. That, and the fact Elliott can’t stop talking. Little encouragements spilling from his lips; “Yeah, like the way I taste, baby?” “Fuck you’re so pretty down there.” “Come on, make some noise.” He’s always been the more talkative partner. Unless Bloodhound was in the mood for control.

Your thighs are gripped hard as Bloodhound gently begins to thrust. You can feel the wetness slicking down your ass at this point, your own nails digging into Elliott’s thighs as you whine against him with pleasure. Licking feverishly at his heat as if he was the only thing keeping you sane right now. You’re more eager to give head, unlike Bloodhound who liked to tease. You work him up, peeking your eyes open half way to peer through your lashes just to watch his pretty face contort in pleasure. He bites his bottom lip, head throwing back when you suck particularly hard on his clit just as Bloodhound begins to pick up the pace.

Your thighs flex with pleasure, your noises muffled but still enjoyed next to Elliott. Though, you really make a noise when you feel their hips sharply thrust against you, slamming into your g-spot. Their thumb pressing to your clit and rubbing at it in time with their newly picked up pace, matching their soft snarls and huffing.

You hold desperate to Elliott’s thighs, lips parting and tongue lolling out as he takes your hair tight and begins to hump his hips desperately against your face. He fucks himself onto your tongue, using you like a toy as you’re fucked harder. You can only whine and huff your pleasures, not willing to close your mouth, not when Elliott’s eyebrows are knitted and he’s murmuring such pretty things.

Elliott cums first with a sob and his body locking up. One of your hands finally reaches up when he does cum, cupping his pec and thumbing over his perked nipple just to feel his clit jerk against your mouth as you suck hard on it. He locks up, squirting on your chin before you’re able to part your lips back open and lick eagerly at his hole to swallow whatever he gives you.

He has to move off you when you begin to go a bit cross eyed from holding his weight. Flopping next to you and curling against your side to nuzzle at your neck briefly. Murmuring about a shower that you acknowledge with a hum of agreement. There’s a mild pause of Bloodhound’s hips, just a beat when Elliott rolls out of bed and heads for the bathroom.

“My love-” Bloodhound’s voice is a low growl and your attention is immediately on them instead of Elliott’s fantastic ass. You quickly reach out for them, letting their weight cover you as they lean down, wrapping their arms around you to hold you close. You follow suit, legs wrapping around their waist, just tight enough to be comfortable but loose enough to let them move.

“Close,” You murmur back in a desperate tone near their ear. Nuzzling just underneath it as you flex your inner walls around them just to hear them snarl. They’re losing control, nails sinking into you as they get closer. Their hips begin to move again, humping into you like an animal trying to breed. “Cum inside of me, ba- ah- baby, please-” You whine out for them. Perhaps a low move, considering you knew it was such a big kink for them.

Almost a competition to see who could cum first.

You prevail when they hump into you a few times, swearing under their breath as they cum inside of you. Cock pulsing and jerking inside of you as they slam their hips as close to yours as they can. Only allowing small thrusts, more like grinding their pelvis to yours. You clutch at them, one hand on the back of their neck and clutching at their hair, the other around their back as you hold on.

You cum seconds after, body shaking and eyes shutting. Your breath is shuddery, exhausted.

There’s a quiet after that. Bloodhound waits inside of you for only a moment longer before slowly pulling out, spreading open your lower lips to selfishly watch their cum drip from you.

When they lower back onto their tummy and nose back between your legs, you’re pretty sure you’re in for a long night.

You deserve it.

#Miragehound x reader #Miragehound #Mirage #Bloodhound #Apex legends #Apex lemons #nsft #lemon #commissions #princess writing

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the-melting-world · 4 years

Text

Masquerading with Magicians 🍋

Asra x Reader x Magician

Notes: Fem/AFAB MC

Warnings: voyeurism, masturbation, oral, body swapping

~ 2.5K words

You are tired of Asra’s games.

“Come on, please tell me what it is!” You beg as you cling to his arm. He keeps you light on your feet as he pulls you down the opulent corridors of the palace. The two of you have just left one of the dancehalls and you’re still a little dizzy from it. Not to mention that you’ve had more than a few drinks by now.

Asra’s doesn’t drop his teasing grin. “I want it to be a surprise. We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” You huff.

Asra stops at one of the many polished doors and takes out a key. He lets you inside a private chamber. Inside, the light filtering from the lanterns is pale, but soft. The walls and carpet are bathed in a spectrum of teals and cyan blues with accents of gold.

You look around in wonder. “Asra, where are we?”

He closes the two of you inside the cozy space. “Do you like it? Watch your step.” He catches you before you stumble into the shallow depression carved in the floor. It’s home to a concentration of cushions and downy blankets.

There is also someone waiting for you in the center of the nest. Like all of the guests in the palace, they wear a mask.

“MC,” they say with a delicate incline of their head, “always a pleasure.”

Then they take their time removing their mask. You blink in disbelief as Asra’s face grins back at you.

The Magician? What were they doing at the masquerade? Unlike Asra, they were not wearing a costume.

In fact, they were not wearing much of anything.

You walk up to them and kneel down. “It’s good to see you!” You scratch behind their fox-like ears. “But what are you doing here?”

The Magician nuzzles against your hand and closes their eyes in satisfaction. “Mmm. That’s a good question.” Then they surprise you by pouncing and rolling until you’re on your back.

“Did you miss me?” They say in between nipping affectionately at your neck.

You laugh and suddenly wish you weren’t restricted by the masquerade costume.

“Of course I do! But will somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

Asra finally comes to your aid, laughing good-naturedly as he lifts the Magician up by their shoulders and sits them down. Once you’re all seated with your legs crossed, Asra and the Magician share sly glances before Asra starts to explain.

“The Magician and I wanted to give this to you on your birthday, but Nadia caught wind of what we were planning and convinced us to wait until the masquerade.”

You cross your arms in suspicion. “So I’m about to get a late birthday present? What’s so special that you had to drag me from the party and summon the Magician all the way from their realm?”

The almost identical magicians share another glance, but this one is hesitant. Asra nudges the Magician with his elbow. “Should I ask her or do you want to?”

You look at the Magician. “Ask me what?”

The Magician’s ears twitch in uncertainty. Their overgrown pupils search the carpeted floor for answers.

You hate seeing them so nervous. So you lean forward and take their hands in yours. Due to their otherworldly nature, you can easily feel the pulse of cosmic energy under their glamoured skin.

“You don’t have to be shy around me, Magician. Whether you realize it or not, you’re my friend too. I want to know your thoughts.”

This seems to put them somewhat at ease. Their ears stop twitching, but they flatten them to the side as they look up at you with those glossy purple eyes and say, “MC, I know that I can be a bit mercurial at times, but at the end of the day, I care for Asra. I want to see him happy. And you,” they eased into a smile, “you make him happy. It was only a matter of time before I began to care for you too.”

You try to thank the Magician, but their face immediately sobers and they start talking fast.

“And I know I can’t make you happy in all the ways that Asra can, but I would like to try to do so in one of the ways that I know how.”

You want to agree with the Magician, but you’re not really sure you know what you’re agreeing to.

“I . . . I’m not sure what you mean.”

The Magician lets their hands slip away from yours as they turn to hide their ever reddening face. Asra chuckles as he pats them on the back. Then he leans forward.

“What the Magician means is –”

He whispers the rest in your ear. You feel your own eyes widen and your breath catch at the revelation.

The Magician dares a tentative glance in your direction. You are so overcome with excitement and gratitude that all you can do is nod and giggle.

“Yes. Yes. Yes!”

Asra and the Magician share identical grins. You are already trying to get your masquerade costume off, silently cursing Nadia at outfitting you with something so tailored and complicated.

Asra laughs and places a hand on your knee. “MC, slow down. We’ll take care of that. You just relax and tell us what you want.”

You sigh. “Well, that’s kind of awkward.”

The Magician, comfortable now that they have your approval, lifts an eyebrow and suggests, “I can simply read your mind. It’ll make things go a lot smoother.”

You tilt your head, contemplating that option. In the end, you say, “I think I can do this.”

“Right.” Asra, who is clearly past his patience, closes the gap between you and him. “Let’s get started.”

You gently rest your fingers on his chest. He pauses before reaching your lips.

You can feel your face heating up as you glance in the Magician’s direction. “Let them help you out of your costume, and . . .” your face climbs to a new level of heat, “we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Asra draws back slowly. “Hmph. You adapted pretty quickly.”

You give an innocent shrug, but behind your smile, it’s a different story.

Asra smirks before turning his attention toward the Magician. You’re a little thrown off by how comfortably they regard one another while the Magician works on getting Asra out of his gown.

You lean back on the mound of cushions and watch their intimacy unfold. The Magician leaves soft, lingering kisses at the base of Asra’s neck as they unclasp buttons and loosen the threads holding everything together.

Meanwhile, your hand travels under the high slit in your dress to the warm space between your legs. You’re already wet, but only a little. You try to breathe evenly and not read too much into Asra’s reactions as you tease two fingers in and out.

In what seems like no time at all, Asra’s gown is off and he and the Magician seem to have temporarily forgotten about you. It’s a known fact that Asra takes making out very seriously and when it comes to him, it can become just as intimate as making love.

You don’t mind though. Everything’s better if they don’t realize you’re watching. But it’s when the Magician uncovers Asra’s erection that makes you eager to join the action.

As if sensing your need, the Magician briefly pulls away from Asra and gestures to you. “We are being rotten hosts, Asra. MC wants to play too.”

Asra blinks rapidly, as if waking up from a dream. “MC! I’m so sorry. I just caught up –”

You crawl over to him and silence him with a kiss. The Magician is chuckling merrily in the background. You feel their hands working on getting off your costume now. You and Asra share long, deep kisses while the Magician toils away at the bodice. Soon the materials are sliding down your torso, but you hardly care.

Your breath hitches when something warm and wet latches onto your nipple. You break away from Asra to see the Magician, eyes closed, sucking and gently purring. It makes your head light.

Asra notices your interest in the Magician and encourages you to lie on your back. The Magician hovers over you and cocks their fluffy head to the side.

“I can be whatever you want,” they whisper, scanning your face for some kind of clue. Without speaking, you tentatively reach up and drag your fingertips along their chest. They give you an experimental kiss and your skin tingles as a wave of magic interrupts their glamour for a softer, smoother anatomy. Your fingers register what was once flat, lean muscle now as full and supple flesh.

But your attention is pulled away from the Magician as Asra draws your knees over his hips and wedges himself inside you. Your body reacts to this sublime level of comfort and fit. Like ribbons unfurling for the first time, you unravel, your arms naturally stretching over your head and your spine arching by a few degrees.

In your moment of vulnerability, the Magician takes firm hold of your wrists and bends very close to your face. “You still haven’t told me if this is the form you want me to take.”

You take a steadying breath as your eyes coast over the Magician’s soft anatomy.

You bite your lip and nod.

Asra starts to move inside you.

“Hurry,” you whisper breathlessly, “sit on my face.”

The Magician chuckles as they answer your command. Your lips part as you and tilt your head back to receive them. They tighten their hold on your wrists. The feeling of them restraining you briefly sends your mind to a more primal place. Your eyes flutter shut as you pass your tongue along a set of vertical lips. You give another lick, sucking hard when your teeth catch onto soft meat.

The Magician inhales sharply and lets go of your wrists. They lean back and grab your hair for better control. Your mind sort of blanks as they drop their hips and take a deeper seat on your face. Your hands wander up to their ass, gently encouraging them to make the ride as rough as they want.

“ . . . Damn.”

Asra’s voice. Clearly he likes what he sees.

Your toes curl as he roughly gathers your thighs and eases into a familiar rhythm. You direct your muscles to clench hard and often. But this is difficult when the Magician is practicing their own choreography against your jaw. You do your best to keep up, sucking generously on their clit. Bathing your tongue against the wetter, more sensitive parts. Swallowing.

You wonder if the Magician knows that their pussy tastes like cosmic foam. That it feels like little galaxies bursting into existence all over your tongue.

The Magician calls your name. “Are you ready?” They sound delirious and out of breath.

You hum against their pussy. “Ready for what?”

A moan. “This.”

Something happens and your world tilts.

The tiny galaxies in your mouth seem to expand and swallow you whole. You disappear inside of a black hole and are reborn through the mouth of a white one. You blink to try to clear your vision. Eventually, the disorientation fades. You are back in the cozy chamber. This time you are sitting up and you see...

You see yourself. Lying before you.

The Magician has moved to the side. Once again they are a mirror of Asra’s anatomy, comfortably relaxing back and stroking their own cock.

The other you looks just as disoriented as you feel. That’s when you notice her eyes.

They are purple.

“Asra?” you say, but your voice is not your own. Yet it sounds so familiar.

Your copycat with the purple eyes glances at the Magician. “Did you just –”

The Magician rolls their eyes and pauses briefly to say, “Yes. I switched you. You better hurry up before the spell wears off.”

Your jaw drops. “I’m in Asra’s body?”

The Magician grins. “You’re welcome.”

Asra and you lock eyes and are barely able to contain your excitement. Without even thinking twice, you flip him over and say, “Let’s try this.”

Asra’s skin shivers in anticipation as he finds himself on his hands and knees. You don’t even think twice as you fit your cock inside of his still ripe pussy. You glide in easily, but...

“Oh gods.”

Asra turns his face, which looks identical to yours, over his shoulder and says, “Is something wrong?”

You have to fight your eyes from rolling back. “No, no. It’s just . . . tight.”

You almost don’t recognize your own face when Asra gives one of his distinctive smirks.

“Feels nice, doesn’t it?”

You nibble the inside of your cheek and start rocking your hips. All you can manage is a weak, “Mm-hm.”

Soon Asra gets caught up in his own new sensations. Little does he know that you chose this position with the intention of impressing him. The Magician’s soft grunts in the background motivates you to keep thrusting hard and steady into Asra’s warm pussy.

“Hey Magician,” you say, “watch this.”

You reach over just enough to fit your hand around the base of Asra’s neck. Then you whisper, “Bend down. It feels better that way.”

Asra trusts you and sinks his face into the cushions. The deep arch in his spine puts you over the edge. You hold his neck while you fuck him. And while it feels amazing on your end, the real high comes from watching Asra get off.

“Ngnnnn,” he groans in your voice, unable to form coherent words.

You know all too well how your body reacts to this position combined with the pressure against the back of the neck. But this isn’t even the height of sensation.

It takes absolute focus to thrust, hold Asra down, and feed your other hand down his navel. With your index and ring finger, you spread apart the lips of his pussy. Then you employ your middle finger to engage his clit.

“Ah!” Asra had more to say, but it’s muffled by the cushion.

You bite your lip in concentration, knowing the trick to maximizing this sort of pleasure. Asra, though he has tried in the past, could never really get it right. You understand how featherlight your fingers have to be in contrast to the strength of your thrusts and the secure grip you have on his neck.

Asra can’t really hold on much longer.

You feel yourself about to erupt.

But then you are swallowed inside yet another galaxy...

!!!

“Oh. That’s – fuck!”

You receive Asra’s cum in your original body, face down in the cushions. Exactly where you want to be.

The sudden shift back to your original bodies has momentarily untethered you and Asra from reality. You have no control over your hips as they fight to cling to the sensation. Asra’s behind you, caught in a similar puppetry, locked in a carousel of swearing.

Once again, you detect those tiny pinwheels of light emerging in your core as if some of the Magician’s magic has rubbed off on you.

Eventually, you and Asra are reclaimed by natural laws. That floaty feeling dissolves and you are lying in a heap, sweating and breathing like you nearly drowned. The Magician, who is still jacking off, waits patiently for the two of you to catch your breath.

You’re the one who kisses Asra and says, “I think we should help them out.”

He pushes the damp hair out of your face and presses a sweet kiss to your nose.

“I agree. And then after that, do you want to . . .”

You interrupt him. “Go home, take a shower and curl up with a cup of tea?”

He playfully bumps his nose against yours.

“Mm. You read my mind.”

#lemon #the arcana #asra #asra babe #the arcana fanfic #asra x reader #asra the magician #my asks

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throwawaythewontons · 4 years

Text

Perverse by nature

ao3

(warning: nsfw, lesbian sex, slight objectification, internalized homophobia)

It’s not Richie’s fault per se. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from. Maybe it’s some part of some complex someone’s yet to name. maybe it’s the vaccines. Maybe she’s just horny. Maybe her parents didn’t love her enough as a kid.

Really, she’s always known. There is a name for it, but she’s not going to talk about that, because she doesn’t want to close any doors. It was comforting when she’d found out and slid so easily into the word it felt like a fat kid going down a waterslide. But she tells herself it’s not important enough to state out loud. Richie likes girls. It’s never been something she’s had to question or seek out, it’s just always been kind of, there. She’s always played with girls. Always wanted to be friends with them. Hold their hands. Touch their hair and put her hands around their waists.

It didn’t feel disgusting until started liking her best friend. It didn’t feel disgusting before she started looking at her boobs.

Elisabeth Kaspbrak (affectionately named Eddie) had been friends with Richie Tozier since kindergarten and for as long as Richie can remember she’s always been shorter than her. She was attracted to her, not in the same way she was attracted to Billie or Stan because they were made of the same matter. Because she simply didn’t put up with Richie’s antics, because she, herself, is someone to be put up with. Right from the first time she plopped down in the seat next to Richie and wiped the table down with hand sanitizer, Richie’s known. Though she was half her size, she was arguably twice as loud, twice as stubborn and twice now in…other regions.

(one could argue two times zero is still zero but back to the story)

Eddie had spent that summer with her aunt, away from Derry and the other losers. She’d left two days after school ended, fiercely hugging Richie before she left. It was a getaway arranged by her mother (of course). Her excuse was that Eddie was going through a rebellious phase and that she needed to spend some time with good women of her family, being reminded of the right values again. During her getaway, Eddie had gone through an unexpected…growth spurt.

She’s still shorter than Richie. By far. But she’s filled out a lot more. A lot more. Well, they all have. Over the past years, they’ve all started wearing real bras, not the sports bras from the kids' section. Richie herself hadn’t filled out as much as she’d shed the weight of childhood, carving herself a new figure with sharp ribs and hip dips and boobs that weren’t even worth the effort of wearing a bra. Eddie however…

Christ, it wasn’t like she’d gone from zero to one hundred just like that. She’d always been a little curvier than the other losers (save for Bernadette). It just hadn’t been as noticeable before. Before the first day of Junior high, when Richie chained up her bike and Eddie came barreling towards her.

“Rich! Hey there loser!” she smiles wide and runs towards her. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail, two strands pulled out to frame her face (Richie had watched her tie her hair back enough to know how she did it. how she flipped her head back and pulled the elastic from around her wrist, smoothing the front down and then pulling two sections out from behind her ears with her pinkies). She’s wearing tennis shoes with calf-high socks, high waisted Bermuda-shorts, and a very tight, yellow polo shirt. Richie recognized that polo. It’s one of Eddie's favorites. It hadn’t been tight when she left.

Eddie barrels into her and wraps her arms around her. She’s wearing her bookbag and she’s warm like sunshine and smells so pretty. She’s pressing up against Richie and Richie can feel everything.

Warm. Soft. Big. Squishy. Boobies. Boobsboobsboobs.

Richie’s cheeks grow hot. Her entire face grows hot. She might be sweating. Something else feels hot too. She’s trying not to squeeze Eddie’s waist too tight. She wants to press her knees together. There’s a pounding in her lower stomach and it's begging her to reach down, reach out, grab.

Eddie has boobs now.

Design within reach. Soft and firm at the same time. Perfectly grabbable and holdable. And how Richie wants to hold, even as she feels bile in her throat and a cold sensation spreading through her forehead and down her back. She’s shaking.

Eddie draws back, the hug itself only lasting a few seconds, and is telling Richie about her aunt. Richie huffs and grunts along as best as she can. She’s good with words, just not the right ones. She takes time to look Eddie over.

God. They must have grown like, three cups apiece. Or maybe one is bigger than the other? That’s normal, apparently. They stretch out her shirt like they’re trying to escape. Hey Richie! look at us! Has she even noticed? She walks like she hasn’t. talks and moves like she doesn’t even two, her poor shirt fighting for its life. It had been too small last summer. The only reason Eddie kept it was for sentimental values. Richie wishes she’d chucked it out. Is she even wearing a bra? Richie didn’t felt any bra during their hug, only the smooth expanse of her back. This was obscene.

It was downright pornographic.

Richie lifts her bookbag from her bicycle basket and feels as the cold begins to spread down her spine like poison.

This objectification, this ruff sexualization, fetishization of another girl’s body. It’s new. Of her friend. Of someone who should trust her. It’s sadistic. It’s vile. Eddie shouldn’t have to worry about her best friend ogling her like a piece of meat. Richie is no better than the old men who sit in front of the pharmacy, or the boys in the hallway who snap bras and look under skirts. She’s a sexual deviant and it’s never been more apparent, transparent or provocative.

She gratefully slips into a different classroom than Eddie. Never has history felt so relieving.

She doesn’t concentrate. The pounding between her legs had died down and she’s left with only the cold. Shame. She had always looked differently at girls. admired the soft curves of their faces and eyelashes. How they applied their Chapstick. Richie is grateful she’s not born as a man and isn’t sporting a hard-on right now. She can admire from afar. No accidental boners to squish. No telltales. Her nipples don’t even get hard unless directly stimulated, even if all the pornos are trying to convince her otherwise.

But wouldn’t it have been easier if she was a guy? Not because it would be forgiven for her to go rigid at a pair of tits, but because it would be expected of her? Perhaps everything is easier with a penis involved. Perhaps Richie is a dyke. The truth is somewhere in the pudding. Perhaps this is a fluke. A slipup on behalf of her pubescent brain. This is new and exciting, and her brain mistook it for arousal. With time it will fade away as all hyper fixations do. She might still like to hold Eddie’s hand in the movie theatre but they won’t be kissing while they do it.

For lunch, they meet up with the other girls and Bev. They all huddle together on their blue plastic benches like they always do. The table smells like cleaning supplies and library coffee. Eddie’s new boobs stretch and squish together as she talks with her hands and her thigh is brushing up against Richie. Did they get bigger too? Richie is too afraid to look. They’re sitting close like they always do, and for once Richie dreads it. well, that’s not entirely true. There’s always been a certain amount of risk in being around Eddie. she likes it like that. Pushing too close, too far. Someone catching her starring or reading the subtitles. But no one’s said anything like that. Maybe girls are allowed to be close like that.

(perhaps it is easier, not because it is expected, but because it is forgiven)

What if they already know? What if it’s too late, too obvious and they’re just testing how far she will go. This just in: Richie Tozier really a lesbian? She is, as all high schoolers are, part of a game. A hierarchy. Many have framed it as a war, but really, it’s closer to a gameshow.

Will she start creeping on her classmates in the locker rooms. (“be careful, I think she’s a lesbian,” Drew Newman whispers behind her, she’s talking to the new girl in school. It’s 5th grade and Richie said she liked her t-shirt) will she take pictures of them in the shower? touch another student? Kiss another student? Cut her hair short like a boy and shove her giant nose in their pussies?

Richie quietly eats her sandwich. Stan is sitting across from her, carefully wiping her mouth after each of her fries, even if there’s no sauce. Next to her Billie is playing with Mikey’s hair, gently braiding and re-braiding a section as she speaks. None of them are looking at Richie.

Is that what they look like to others? She and Eddie? two girls sitting on a bench braiding hair?

She knows no one can read her mind. Not even Stan. If they can they haven’t said anything yet, and Richie hopes they keep it that way. If you look objectively, they’re doing nothing. They’re sitting next to each other. They’re eating their lunch. Seeking occasional contact, as all primates do. But true objectivity doesn’t exist in humans, and that might be the scariest thing of them all to someone like Richie. Even the concept of objectivity is a subjective term because it’s a word and a concept, made up by humans and equipped with its own fair share of subjective weight. Humans are subjective creatures. Deeply so. Really, truly, are they just sitting next to each other?

Richie doesn’t claim to know the truth, only a version of it.

It’s a month later when Eddie comes over to her house. It’s been a month of Richie living in limbo, looking away and admiring from afar. She masturbates every night before going to bed now. It helps her sleep.

She wants to grab her tits. She wants to squeeze them and push them against herself. Kiss the bridge between them and press her face into them. lick them and suck at the skin around the areola. Rub her nipples. Kiss them. lick and suck them. she wants Eddie to grab onto her hair and gasp into the air. Wrap her soft thighs around Richie and ask her for more.

Richie sometimes fantasizes about what would happen, if she grabbed them at their lunch table. Or in the hallway. if she just went up to Eddie and started groping her, looking her directly in the face as she did it. what would happen?

In fantasy land, Eddie’s eyes widen and she looks up at Richie in shock. Her cheeks go red and her mouth goes silent. But she doesn’t stop her. She gasps and presses her body into Richie’s. She moans pathetically as she grabs onto her for support and her face crumbles in arousal. Her thighs push together when Richie starts playing with her nipples and kissing her neck. Others fade away in the background and Richie reaches down and hikes up Eddie’s skirt, rubbing her through her panties and she moans and fists Richie’s cardigan.

In the real world though, Richie knows. She knows that wouldn’t happen. In the real world, she wouldn’t even stand a chance. Eddie would jerk back, maybe even push her. She would be disgusted. Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes who she’s allowed close to her, who she’d been sitting next to, every lunch period for years. Who she’d shared her food with, her secrets with, her comic books and her bed with. They’d spent so much time together as kids, sleeping over at each other’s houses with the other losers. How many of those nights had Richie spent awake, staring at her? Touching her? The color returns to Eddie’s face as she shifts from disgust to rage. Hatred. The other losers at their table, the people in the hallway, now begin to whisper. Their teachers look on with pity and disappointment.

“Be careful…”

Right between the two fantasies, is where Richie comes. The first is her own creation. Her dramaturgy where she decides who plays who. Who does what. The second one is the fire that burns it all down, the second is the aftermath. The water that washes the paint off and reveals an ugly face underneath. She can’t say which is her favorite because it is one. One fantasy. one never comes without the other. It’s a euphoria that comes with high risk and Richie falls for it every time.

This must be how a cult is formed , she thinks, one night in her misery. One person gets an idea and others are looped in, promised an elation of life with no idea that there’s a shotgun pointed at their head. Is it possible to brainwash yourself?

She’s standing in her kitchen when she hears the doorbell ring. She puts down her Fanta as she goes to open the door. And of course, Eddie is outside.

“Hi Rich!” she’s wearing a white button-up cardigan and high waisted red shorts. She’s holding a blue shopping bag. Richie doesn’t recognize the shorts. But she knows the cardigan used to be Stans. It looks better on Eddie.

“hey there Spaghetti,” she leans into the doorframe, getting into character, “what brings you to my store?”

“I wanna talk to you asshole. Also, stop calling me spaghetti, it’s annoying.” She pushes past Richie and toes off her tennis shoes. Richie lets her. She closes the front door and waits until Eddie is done.

“any particular topic?”

Eddie shakes her head. “no, just wanted to talk to you.”

Richie smiles and goes back into the kitchen, charmed by her abandoned Fanta can. Eddie follows and wrinkles her nose as Richie takes a sip.

“do you even know what’s in that stuff?”

Richie takes an extra loud sip, swishes it around in her mouth like Listerine and swallows.

“do you?”

Eddie squirms (to Richie’s amusement), “your parents are dentists. What would your dad do, huh? If he knew what a bitch you are?”

Richie burbs and blows into Eddie’s face. “applaud.”

“you’re an ass.”

Richie delivers what she calls her Hollywood-smile and stares Eddie in the face. Eddie herself is delivering an excellent battle face, jaw slightly pushed out and penciled eyebrows pushing together. She doesn’t mean it, neither of them does to the extent of their act, but it’s fun to perform their quick-paced comedy. Even if they are the only audience members. Richie, this time, is the one to put down her sword and blink.

“Seriously though, do you want a drink? There’s lemonade in the fridge.”

“I want tea,” Eddie drops the face and starts rummaging through their cupboards. Richie amuses at the routineness of Eddie’s movement.

It was not unusual for her to show up unannounced like today. Many Sunday mornings, Maggie and Wentworth could be sitting in the kitchen and enjoying their toast, and Eddie Kaspbrak would simply wander in and take a glass of juice without any of them even looking up. Most of the time though, Eddie would quickly disappear upstairs to Richie’s room. She finds everything without having to ask. It’s one of Richie’s favorite things about her. It’s proof of their friendship in the most literal way there is. through muscle memory. It’s not something obvious, but to the observant outsider, it’s undeniable. It’s a part of Eddie’s body that wasn’t there before. Because of Richie, it is.

She gathers all the things she needs in on the prickled countertop tiles next to the stove. A box of lemon-flavored teabags, a mug (adorned with the phrase “best dad ever”, a not very well-received Mother’s Day gift) and a jar of honey from the drawer below the silverware.

Richie watches her quietly from the corner, leaning on the wall next to the microwave. Taking her time to appreciate just what Stans cardigan is doing for Eddie. taking her time to be guilty about it later.

It’s times like this, with Eddie tinkering around her kitchen, that she slips into another fantasy of hers. A seldom one of her and Eddie being married. One where Eddie is her housewife, wearing a dress that Richie bought for her, a necklace that Richie bought for her, a ring Richie bought for her and standing in a kitchen in a house that Richie bought too. She’s cooking breakfast. Maybe there are kids in the background. Richie comes down from upstairs, where she’s shaved and brushed her teeth. She’s wearing a suit and holding a briefcase. Her short hair is slicked back, and Eddie fixes her tie before kissing her. Richie grabs onto her waist, squeezing her dress (it’s satin, no, maybe it’s a picnic dress, with red and white checkers, either way, it fits in all the right places) and lifting her thigh. The kiss grows deeper, Eddie’s heat is drawing her in, and Richie, in the real world takes another sip from her soda.

In this scenario, Richie is a man. It’s part of why she rarely indulges. She doesn’t want to be a man, but if she’s married to a woman, she must. it just makes sense. It can’t work any other way. In the same way that two plus two equals four. A man and a woman can get married Anything else, is not a marriage.

Eddie is not her wife. Certainly not her housewife. In real life, Richie doesn’t have a beard or a cock. She’s wearing jeans and her dad’s old Rolling Stones t-shirt, not a suit. In real life, she’s a teenage girl with a complex.

Eddie finishes her tea, puts all the supplies back (because she’s annoying and organized like that) and climbs up on the counter. her thighs are pressed together. She sways her feet and holds the mug between her hands. Richie is all but reminded of how small she is again. Her feet dangle over the floor. Richie knows if she wants to get down, she’ll have to use the nubs on their kitchen drawers to stand on if she doesn’t want her feet to hurt. Or she’ll have to ask Richie for help.

They stand in silence. Each with their respective drinks, like strangers at a bus stop.

She looks beautiful in the sunlight.

“Actually, I need a favor.”

Aha. So, no talking after all.

“I, uhm,” she’s still looking at her tea, but her hand fumbles to the blue bag next to her. It’s not until now Richie notices she’s brought it with her to the kitchen. She awkwardly hands it to Richie

“I need a place to wash this.”

Richie opens the bag and her heart skips a fucking beat.

It’s a bra. It’s Eddie’s bra. Two of them, actually. Richie can feel the slippery polyester through the bag. They’re plain. Underwire. One is grey and one is a soft pink.

“eh…”

She doesn’t know what to say. Fuck. How do you recover from something like this? Which one-liners are appropriate when your crush hands you a bag of bras? She’s blushing. This is bad.

“I’m sorry!” Eddie says, and she sounds like she really means it, “it’s just, I’ve grown a bit lately and I…my mom, you know how she is!”

“she won’t let you wash your underwear?”

“no but she…she doesn’t know I have it…”

Richie puts the bag down. This is going off the rails.

“what?”

Eddie sighs heavily. She tilts her chin upwards at the ceiling. The look of a pained soldier in her eyes. She’s frustrated, Richie can see her trying to fight it. but maybe there’s more. Something Richie knows all too well.

“I bought them myself,” she says, “my old ones don’t fit me anymore, and I was too scared to say anything to her. She hasn’t said anything yet, so I don’t know if she’s noticed. And it’s just…it’s hard to talk about this stuff to begin with! You know? But my mom? She’s…she’d freak out! she already thinks I’m hitting puberty too early even though I’m almost an adult. She says it’s because I’ve been drinking tap water, tap water Richie! Plus, my aunt is nagging me about modesty all of a sudden because she’s definitely noticed, and everyone keeps staring at me! Like, all the time! Mr. Harris? My fucking teacher? He keeps standing behind me in gym class and it’s really creeping me out. And I need to wash my fucking underwear so will you please help me?”

Richie watches her squirm. She doesn’t know what to say.

People are starring

Yeah, and Richie is one of them

But Eddie is right. Sonia Kaspbrak is a woman of a certain genre. If she knew that her little girl was anything over a b-cup, who knew how she would react. In Sonia’s narrow mind (praise who knew what was going on in there) this would read as a direct attack against herself. this would usually lead to a medicinal approach. At Eddie’s expense of course. Either way, it was awkward enough for Richie and her mother. Richie could only imagine how Eddie felt.

As for the rest of what she’d said. Richie would wallow in that later. Always later. For now, she does her best to be comforting.

“of course I’ll help you.”

Eddie sighs, “thank you.” She starts to climb down from the counter. Richie automatically puts down her drink and goes to help her. Eddie grabs her arm. She’s leaning on her. Not fully but almost. But she pauses momentarily.

“I knew you’d understand. You always do.”

Richie smiles, “what, you think I can relate?” she nods down at herself. in the white folds of her father’s oversized shirt, she looks like a boy.

Eddie licks her lips. “I don’t think it’s a matter of relating Rich.”

She says it so quietly, her brown eyes are staring up at Richie’s. her breath smells like lemons, and something secret. The inside of her mouth. Something that Richie would find gross if it wasn’t Eddie. she looks terribly open and beautiful. And Richie is, at that moment, mesmerized. She doesn’t notice Eddie slipping further down the counter and when she does, she stumbles. Richie grabs onto the first thing she finds before she realizes what’s happening.

Oh no.

Eddie’s eyes widen. Her lips part and a small gasp falls from her lips. Richie let’s go immediately. All the blood has drained from her face. She might faint. Her hand feels warm. Too warm. And the worst part is how tight her crotch is.

Soft. Warm. Smooth yet firm. And big. God, it was even better than she had imagined. Even if she only touched her for a brief second.

“sorry! I’m so sorry” Richie steps back quickly, Eddie slides the rest of the way onto the floor with a soft thud. Everything inside Richie is crumbling

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Richie it’s okay, it was an accident.”

“I’m sorry, everything you said…you just talked about how awful it is and I’m being part of the problem.”

“Richie…”

Richie plops down in a chair. it’s her moms’ seat. She stares at her hands. Her hand. She can’t look Eddie in the eye. She’s fucking up.

“I didn’t mean to…I don’t want to make it worse. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Not because of me.”

The kitchen is heavy with silence. Richie can’t look at Eddie’s face right now. She can’t read her thoughts. Her feelings. Her judgment. But she can imagine. Eddie is shocked. Scared. She’s starring at Richie and wondering what to do now. what she’ll do to overcome this. Sweep it under the rug, so she can still be friends with Richie. Because Richie knows that’s how Eddie is. she’s used to pushing small things to the side. Forgetting accidents. Forgiving those she loves. Letting herself be violated.

Or she’s wondering how she can leave. Preparing herself to walk out of Richie’s front door and never coming back. Never being alone with Richie again. because of what she might do.

Richie is not coming back from this.

“Richie…” she repeats. Silent again. the same way she spoke just a minute ago. And it makes Richie look up.

Here it comes. Here comes the rejection. I think I should leave. Be careful…

Instead, Eddie steps closer. She holds her hands at her side. But now she gently grabs Richie’s hand and lifts it for her. She leads it up to her chest. presses it against her breast. Richie swallows. Her mouth tastes like sour Fanta. She barely dares to breathe; incase it scares Eddie. or maybe it scares herself.

Yet, Eddie compels her. as always.

“Eddie...”

She grabs onto Eddie. before she can change her mind. Her fingertips press into the fleshy body below her hand. It’s warm. Even through her clothes, she’s warm. Eddie’s lips part.

“I…I don’t mind it…” she whispers, “I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Richie’s hands spring alive, she grabs onto Eddie firmly, bringing her left hand up to join. She grabs her boobs. One firmly in each hand, and squeezes. Hard. Feels their roundness, their firmness. Feels them press against Eddie’s cardigan. It’s too small. What is it with Eddie and wearing shirts that are too small?

Eddie lets out a chocked sound, too close to a moan, and Richie can’t take it anymore. Eddie’s legs are bending before Richie grabs her, but she pulls her down the rest of the way by her hips. She lands on Richie’s lap. Richie spreads her knees, so Eddie’s thighs are forced to follow. she’s heavy and hot. Pressing against Richie in all the right places. Her thighs, her ass, and her tummy are soft and warm too. Deliciously fleshy. Everything about her is so soft. She smells like peaches. Eddie grabs her cheek and presses their mouths together.

Richie might’ve fainted along the way. Maybe hours ago. She’s dreaming. She’s sleeping in her bed upstairs. Her head is spinning between Eddie’s hands. Her mouth feels exactly how she imagined, yet somehow, everything else. She’s real. That’s the main difference. She’s real. And Richie can touch her and kiss her as much as she wants. She can hold her here if she wants to. there are only two people in the world, as far as she knows.

Eddie is gasping into her mouth. Her hips are moving in soft circles as Richie fondles her ass. She’s looking for something. She might not even realize she’s doing it. Richie pushes her own hips up in return. Pushing them together. And as she does, she starts to undo Eddie’s cardigan. The small buttons slip out easily, and really, it’s a miracle they’ve been holding on so long. She breaks their kiss out into intermit pecking to watch soft skin appear bit by bit. Inch by inch, until the soft curve of her cleavage, is in full view. She’s even prettier up close. The bra underneath is black, but Richie does quick work of unclasping it. it falls around Eddie’s waist, caught in her cardigan. Eddie untucks it and Richie throws the bra onto the floor. The infamous blue bag is sitting somewhere on the floor too, and Richie trust they end up together. She, however, is occupied by Eddie.

She’s gorgeous. Her boobs are not as perky without her bra. They’re big and directly in Richie’s face, her nipples hardening in the cold. They’re directly in Richie’s face, and Richie’s mouth tingles. She leans forwards, wasting no time as she sucks on her right nipple.

Eddie lets out a gasp above her, then she moans. Long and desperate, like she can’t stop it. Richie lets out a sound of her own, a sound she doesn’t recognize and presses Eddie impossibly closer. Her crotch is painfully tight, and she rubs up against Eddie in ecstasy.

“R-Richie~”

She’s grabbing onto Richie and Richie is grabbing back. She’s touching everything. Feeling, fondling, tracing, rubbing, pinching, sucking. There’s so much of her. So much to feel. To sense. To take in. she kisses the space between her breasts and her collarbones. Presses her lips against her chest and pulls her tits against her face. Engulfs in her heat. Kneads her right boob as she sucks on the other. An unending hunger pushes her further. Makes her sink deeper. Bite. Somewhere along the way, Eddie’s pants are unbuttoned.

“ah!...h-Rich..”

“Eddie.”

Eddie, again, takes her hand and guides her. This time downwards.

“touch me.”

Her zipper slides down further. dark red fabric parts to reveal olive skin, clean and untouched by the sun. paler than the rest of her. When Richie touches her there, her stomach flutters. She traces the rim of her faded yellow panties one time and dives in.

She’s hotter here than anywhere else on her body.

She’s not clean-shaven, but almost. The hairs are short and even. Neatly kept out of the way. Surprisingly in character. Richie feels all around the fleshy rim of her pussy, investigating. She’s never touched another girl before. But she knows the layout from herself. above her, Eddie has gone quiet. She leans back to look.

She’s holding her breath. Her eyes are closed and she’s biting the inside of her lip. Her nails are digging into Richie’s arm. She’s shaking. Richie watches her. This time she doesn’t look away. Stares at her. Savors her face. Every little wrinkle and curve. She presses her finger against Eddie’s clit. The dampness of her folds almost touches her hand.

“do you like it?”

“yes,” Eddies expression breaks into a gasp, “it feels…h…it feels really good…ah!”

Richie watches her. She watches her and keeps watching her as she rubs Eddie’s clit in rough circles. She’s warm and wet. Overwhelmingly so. Richie dives her fingers in between her folds to feel just how soaked she is. It’s bleeding onto the insides of her thighs, dampening the edges of her panties. Richie briefly pushes her folds apart to feel the edge of her hole. Then she decides against it and goes back to her clit.

“oh~Richie!”

She switches position, this time using two fingers to slide in on either side of Eddie’s clit and pushing them together. She alternates the pressure between the two until she’s rolling Eddie between her fingers. This way, she can go much faster. Eddie starts moving her hips with little rocks. Faster and faster. Her thighs were squeezing Richie’s, knees digging into her sides.

“Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie, Richie!”

She's pressed completely into Richie. her tits collide with Richie’s sweaty collarbones, her hair is in Richie’s face. Richie gladly buried herself in her. If there was any grave better than Eddie Kaspbrak…

Eddie

Eddie goes quite. She’s not breathing. Then comes with a shout, clutching onto Richie like a dying man. Her moans take shapes of sharp hysterical breaths. Soft liquid coats Richie’s hand that she later wipes off in her jean leg.

Gross.

Eddie would scold her about it that later

They sit in her mother’s kitchen chair for a few more moments with the sun hitting the back of Eddie’s hair. she’s worn it down today. She rarely does, save for Saturdays. But today is a Saturday. So Richie runs her hand through it. she’s breathing heavily on Richie’s neck and Richie thinks she might’ve fallen asleep.

“are you okay?”

Eddie isn’t asleep. She giggles. It’s a surprisingly adult sound. And Richie is hit with the passing of time again. She and Eddie are almost adults. Most would refer to them as young instead of children now. The sunlight makes it worse. Her hand is warm and tingles a bit. But that part might be her imagination.

“Yeah, I’m great.”

“I’m still sorry about accidentally touching your boob by the way.”

“you’ve never been one to shy away from grabbing the bull by the horns.”

“grabbing the hottie by the hooters.”

Eddie sits back a little. Her shirt is still open. So are her shorts. she rolls her eyes. Richie leans in until their noses are touching.

“I’m not sorry about grabbing your boobs on purpose though,” She says, “and I hope to get to grab them again in the future.”

Eddie smiles. Her mouth stays closed. It’s a small and secret smile, with little wrinkles at the side. It might be a little embarrassed. But it’s full of what Richie hopes is love.

“I’m glad.”

They kiss a little bit until they hear a car door slam. Richie’s dad is returning from his tennis lessons, and Eddie quickly buttons up her shirt. They both stand up at Richie picks up the bra from the floor and stuff is into the blue cloth bag. Her dad enters the kitchen just as she closes it.

“hey-oh hi Eddie.”

“Hey Mr. Tozier,” Eddie smiles politely, and Richie grabs her hand.

“I think we’re gonna go upstairs dad,” she says and pulls Eddie out of the kitchen and towards the stairs. Her dad raises his eyebrows but doesn’t protest.

“Okay, you girls have fun…wait, Eddie, don’t you want your tea?”

“no thanks Mr. Tozier it’s cold by now!”

They close the door to Richie’s room behind them.

#reddie #lesbian reddie #it chapter 2 #it chapter 1 #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #lesbian eddie kaspbrak #lesbian richie tozier #reddie smut #reddie fanfiction #o.post

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

And so it is

A sequel to What was, What will be

For @kloe-iel as she requested.

Warnings: noncon sex, mentions of death and grieving.

This is dark!Thor and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: The reader finds it hard to adjust to life in Asgard.

Note: So this request fit pretty well with this story so I decided to continue this. This is really only half the request and it will be finished in the next part! I hope you guys enjoy a quite terrifying Thor :) Please let me know your thoughts and reblog/like <3

It didn’t get easier. Every day you woke in a foreign place next to a man you had never truly known. A passing acquaintance who had imagined you as more. The first night was spent with bile in your throat. The second, ice in your veins. The third was fire upon your skin. Each followed in similar despair. Every time he touched you, your flesh turned to steel and your chest filled with stone. Each day felt the same as the last.

That morning you watched Thor until he woke. You pondered resistance but he had smothered that hope days ago. He was stronger than you. Much. He could crush you with his pinky. He had proven that as he guided your body against his; as he stole the pleasure from your flesh. It was no different at the end of your first week there. He rolled over, his weight suffocating, and took you until you were numb. You were covered in his sweat and your own as he finally removed himself, shameless as he walked naked around the golden chamber.

A servant entered as she did every morning. A tray of food left on the table, furtive eyes peeking at the bare king. He never noticed, or perhaps didn’t care. He stood with his hand on the mantle of the hearth, staring into the ethereal flames, his thickly muscled back tense as he thought. The door closed and marked the departure of the servant. You slipped from the bed, your thighs sticky with cum. You had grown used to the repulsive sensation.

You tiptoed into the bath chamber and wiped yourself with a cloth. Even as your torture had grown routine, you could not help your visceral reactions. Your hands trembled as you cleaned yourself before the basin of cool water. You swathed yourself in the silken robe which served as your only clothing. Thor kept you naked; ready for him at all times and he was ever eager.

You stepped back into the chamber and crossed to the carved table where the morning meal awaited you. You sat tenderly and kept your eyes to the spread of fruits, cheeses, and greasy pork. You took several pale slices of pear and apple, some brightly coloured citrus you’d never seen before, and a handful of the strong cheese. The meat here was too heavy for your stomach.

At last, Thor moved from his vigil. He sighed as he sat across from you. A shudder went through you. The morning after the first night had not been so complacent. In your panic, you had been resistant. You had still been you then. Had it only been seven days? You had refused to share his fast. He did not like it when his kindness was spurned. The argument had been short and ended with you bent over the table, hips bruised from the wood for days after. Now you ate what he offered. You spoke when he addressed you and you did as he bid. You almost choked on the pear as you pondered your pathetic existence.

It was hard to think of before. The coffee shop, your small apartment, the love you had lost. You’d rather the harrowing grief of Shane’s absence than the presence of this tormentor. Thor called it a gift, bringing you there. Love, when he was inside of you. You called it cruelty. A bitter twist of fate. You sipped from your glass of lemon water and hid the flurry of emotion which rose suddenly within you. It was best not to remember.

“I must leave you, my pet,” Thor spoke at last. “Your people have need of me, once more, and I would not flout my alliance with them.” You chewed and said nothing. Your eyes clung to the table top; scenes of godly debauchery carved along its border. “Little one, you will answer me…You’ve done so well. You have kept your appetite but I will not abstain from repeating that lesson.”

Your head shot up. You gripped the edge of the table. The very one he had fucked you against when you refused to swallow a single grape. You blinked and swallowed. “Yes, my king, I understand. You must leave me.”

He smiled. “I shall not be very long. A day if I am fortunate, up to three if I am not.” He bit into a slice of pork and poured himself a glass of ale. The third night of your stay, you had accepted a glass of the brew; half a cup had you spinning. You finished the goblet and only recalled crashing into the mattress in a drunken stupour. A relief to your overwrought mind. You awoke to him fucking you, your mind and body still thick with drink. You had only drank water since. “I shall miss you, pet. My servants will be here to tend to you. Ring the bell should you require anything.”

“Yes, my king,” You focused on clearing your plates. The tart juices of the fruit were bland on your tongue; the cheese was acrid; repulsive. You kept your gaze on your plate, counting each bite until it was empty.

“Won’t you miss me too?” He asked as he stood.

You raised your head meekly and gulped down the last mouthful. “Yes, my king.”

Those words were the easiest lie. Second nature by now. He neared and brought his large hands to your cheeks. He cradled your face as he gazed down at you. His cock twitched at the bottom of your vision. It never truly softened. Not when he was with you.

“Will you be good while I am away?” His voice was dusky.

“Yes, my king,” You mumbled. His hands slipped down your neck and pushed apart the front of your robe. The belt fell loose as he bared your chest and you bit down to keep from trembling.

“Good, good,” He purred as he slid the silk down your shoulders, “I should like a proper farewell...it will be agony to be away from you for so long.”

“My king,” You nodded and waited for him to guide you.

“Come,” He said and you stood. The silk rushed to the floor as it fell from your arms. He took your hand and led you to the bed. He sat on the edge and released you. He rubbed his thighs with a smile. “I want you a top me, little one.”

Most times, he liked to be in control. He wanted you beneath him, or bent over, often he wanted his cock down your throat first. You braced yourself and flinched as his fingers pressed between your folds. You were surprised as you had been off in your world of self-pity. He felt around as he urged you forward with his other hand on your hip.

“You are still tender?” He wondered. “It will be some time still until your body has adjusted. It is why we must help attune it.” You would never adjust to him. He was too big; too thick; too rough. He slid a finger inside you and then another. He hummed and licked his lips. “You’re so soft,” He shifted on the mattress, “Come on. I cannot wait any longer.” He brought you closer. “Gods, my cock hurts.”

You climbed up to straddle him, your legs bent over his thick thighs. He held the base of his cock to align himself with your entrance. You tried to ease yourself onto him. Even just his head stretched you terribly. His hands went to your hips and pushed you down impatiently. As he poked your cervix, you whined.

“Shh, it will get better with time, I promise,” His hands brushed up and down your sides. “When I am away, you must keep yourself ready for me.” He took your hand in his as his other settled on your ass. He rocked your pelvis and you followed the motion. He pushed your index and middle fingers straight as he admired them. “Pleasure yourself, pet. It will help.”

He moved your hand to his mouth and slipped your fingers past his lips. He sucked on them as you kept your pelvis steady, an ache in your walls as he filled every inch of you and more. He removed your fingers and led your hand to your pussy. “Go on and show me.”

You shakily pressed your fingers to your clit as he released your hand. He cupped your ass with both of his as he kept you sliding up and down his cock. You circled your fingers around your bud, the same way you had in those dark days of grief as you longed for any feeling. Your lip trembled and you closed your eyes in shame. You rubbed yourself and the ripples spread from within. The waves buzzed down your thighs, tingling at his fingertips as he kneaded your ass.

Your breath hitched and he groaned. He pressed his forehead to yours and his scent filled your nostrils. You continued to play with yourself as he led your motion. He quickened the pace as the moans leaked from you and your pussy squelched around him. You shuddered as the coil snapped and flung your head back sharply as you came with a cry. His teeth found your throat and he nibbled the flesh as you orgasmed in a storm of twitches.

“That’s it, little one,” He said through grunted, “Gods, your so good. So warm.” He bounced you even faster atop him like a rag doll. There was no strength left to you. “My little one.”

He pulled you down as deep as he could go and you felt the heat burst inside of you. He kept himself to his hilt as he came, his breath hot on your chest as he leaned his head on your shoulder. He snarled and fell back suddenly, his arms spread across the bed as his chest rose and fell in delight. You did not move even as your walls throbbed.

“Go on, pet,” He looked to you as he remained reclined lazily, “Take care of your king. One last time before I go.”

It had been two days since Thor left. You spent your time restlessly pacing the chamber. Your meals were brought on their usual schedule and you ate diligently. The servants would tell him if you didn’t. His absence was worse than his presence. Than the anticipation of his return. The dread of him inside of you. The lingering spite which slowly burned for him. With each second, it added to your anxiety. Your fear mingled with a shadow of anger.

It was just after noon, you were staring out the window. The robe tied tight around you. You stared out into the city beneath the mellow sun. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t your prison. You pushed yourself away from the sill and growled. What were you doing? Standing here waiting for him to return. His little pet; that’s what he called you. It sickened you. You weren’t his, you were still Shane’s. Even if he was gone, you had promised him. Forever.

He wouldn’t want you here. Regardless of this man claiming you as his own. He’d never have want you so miserable. So weak. Helpless. He wouldn’t want you to give up. You crossed your arms and sneered at the bed. You hadn’t slept in it, instead curling up on the chaise. You had thought to request that the blankets be cleaned but you had wanted to be left alone. The streaks of cum across the bedding were humiliating. Disgusting. The servants changed the sheets only once a week. It would be better done twice a day at this rate.

You tapped your toe on the carpet. Lunch had already been served and dinner was hours away. You tilted your head and stared at the tasseled cord that hung beside the door frame. You hadn’t pulled it yet. You hid whenever the servant arrived with your meals. You could sense her judgement; her disdain for the king’s mortal bed slave. Well, you hated them too. You hated everything about this place.

You tugged the cord. You scurried to the mantle of the hearth and grabbed one of the heavy golden candlesticks. You tossed away the wax column and stood beside the door so that you’d be hidden when it was opened. It wasn’t long before the key slid into the slot from the other side. The handle turned slowly and you prepared yourself. You held your breath as the door opened and the same servant that dealt your daily fare entered. She stopped just inside the chamber as she looked around, hands on her hips as she grumbled.

You raised the heavy ornament and swung it towards her head. She yelped and fell into a heap. Your mouth fell open and you gulped. You had never hit anyone like that before. What if you had hit her too hard? You toed her as her body went limp and looked around. You pushed the door closed and turned back to your victim. You bent and felt her neck; she was still breathing.

You shook as you rolled her over. You hadn’t thought this out, had you? You took the white cap from her hair and placed it over your own. You apologized before you stripped the rest of her and dressed in her belted gown and wooden sandals. You wrapped her figure in your robe and dragged her to the bed. She was taller than you and moving her was awkward. It took much too long to get her into the bed and under the covers.

You grabbed the key from where she had dropped it on the carpet and glanced back at her one last time. You could barely breathe. You opened the door and stepped into the corridor. You locked the door behind you and looked both ways. You didn’t know where to go next. You had never been beyond the bedchamber.

You knew you couldn’t linger for long. If you acted like you knew where you were going, no one would notice another servant. You were certain there were enough in the palace that an unfamiliar face would be inconspicuous. You set off to the west, searching out any stairs which would lead you down. You knew at least that you were well above street level.

As you turned a corner, you saw another servant not far ahead. You hung back and waited for her to move on. You followed her from a distance, dipping into alcoves every time you thought she sensed you. A few more turns and she led you past a winding staircase. Your heart leapt and you raced down the spiral eagerly. You steadied yourself as you heard others ascending. You kept your shoulders straight as you passed another servant, then a pair of men in rich silks. They didn’t pay you an ounce of heed.

When at last you reached the bottom, you could have screamed. You smiled and peered down the corridor. Your sandals echoed along the stone as you tried each doorway you passed. Most were locked, others were just closets and empty chambers, until finally the sky graced you with its beauty. You were in bliss as you dove out into the sunlight. You tripped and caught yourself against a statue. You looked around at the gates that enclosed the palace. Shit, you hadn’t thought of that.

You watched a servant passing under an archway and ran to catch up to her. You had to take a leap if you had any hope. A little risk was better than resignation. You cleared your throat as you came up beside her, just before the small doorway at the side of the stonewall. It was an offshoot, not the main gates you could see from your window. You stopped yourself, putting on your best imitation of Thor’s accent before you spoke.

“Pardon me, are you on your way to the city?” You asked. You sounded stupid but she didn’t seem alarmed.

She raised her brows and sighed. “Second trip this day. My lord wants fresh eel. Eel is out of season, I told him, but he doesn’t listen.”

“Ah, yes, well, my lady was hoping for some plums,” You lied. Your nerves bounced around your chest. “All hers have gone soft.”

“Well, I suppose company is not unwelcome,” She neared the guards who merely nodded before opening the golden door. “But I’ll be leaving you at Crow’s Crook. I’ve got to go down to the docks.”

“Of course,” You were reeling as you stepped out onto the cobbled streets. You let her guide you while trying to seem like you knew the way. “I do appreciate you walking with me.”

“Mmm, well...you’re much better than my usual company. Gail never shuts up about the lord she’s been fucking in the cellars.” She rolled her eyes, “Fair warning. If you’re sent for wine, knock first.”

“Thank you,” You glanced around as the immensity of the city overwhelmed you. You knew nothing about Asgard; little more about how you would get out of it. First, you just needed somewhere to hide. Thor could be back already and he would waste no time in searching out his lost pet.

“Well, here we are,” She stopped at a crossroads, “Ugh, I hate the docks. They stink and the vendors are crass.”

“Um, uh, good luck,” You offered thinly.

“Yeah,” She scoffed, “Maybe I’ll see you at the palace some time.”

“Maybe,” You tried to smile and she turned on her heel, a single wave before she left you.

You exhaled and looked down the next street. You could see lines of stalls on the next block as the cobbles twisted and twined before you. You ducked into the swell of people on their way to the market and kept your head low. You followed the stream of pedestrians past the heart of the city, descending further from the palace. The sun began its slow decline as you strode into an alleyway, entirely lost as you came out the other side. You wound your way past leaning houses as the sky dimmed. You needed a roof above you before the night. You weren’t certain you wanted to experience Asgard after dark. The people were leery enough if you were to judge by their king.

You dashed across some cobbles and between two houses. You spied a small shed just behind the next and held your skirts aloft as you dodged into the adjacent yard. You looked around before nearing the shed. The door was unlocked and you eagerly stepped inside. You would hide here until the morning and try to figure out what to do then. Maybe you could try the docks.

The night began to deepen the blue of the sky and you tucked yourself into the corner just beside a shovel and carved chest. Your heart did not slow as your reality set in. What hope did you truly have to escape? You weren’t even on your own planet. Christ, did it just occur to you that you were lost in space? You were so stupid!

You sat with your knees bent under crossed arms. You tried to doze but were too on edge. You shivered as the air around you cooled, the small window in the door offered a view of the stars above. You leaned your head against your arms but tensed as you heard footsteps in the grass. Your heart clenched and you hugged your legs tighter. The latch of the door clicked and it opened, a dark figure filled the frame.

Moonlight seeped in past the stranger and his step stuttered as a streak limned your face. You peered up at him fearfully but the shadows hid his reaction. You rocked in place as you trembled. “Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged. “I only need a place to hide for the night.”

His shoulders rose and fell as he huffed. He peeked over his shoulder before looking back to you. He stepped inside but stopped as you pressed yourself to the wall. He raised his hands defenselessly and knelt before you. “Alright, but I won’t have you cowering between my shovels.”

“I have nowhere else,” You pled. “Please.”

“Come on, inside,” He said evenly, “It’s warm in there.”

He offered his hand and you eyed it warily. You shook your head. “No, just let me stay in here. I promise, I’ll be gone in the morning.”

“There is no lock on the door, as I’m sure you’ve determined. Worse beasts will creep in through the night.” He explained, “You may remain but I would not recommend it.” You stared at him, trying to discern his features through the dark. “I swear, I cannot be any worse than whatever you’re running from.”

You gulped and stared at his hand. He sounded nice; gentle, but so had Thor. You chewed your lip as you shivered again. It was cold despite the endless summer. You slowly reached out and took the man’s hand. He was right; he couldn’t be any worse than the king.

tags: @brigidwolf @breezy1415 @selinbaskaya @aekr @alexakeyloveloki @beautiful-and-strange @phoenix21love @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @thoughtlesstales @kxllyxnnx @sathlens @destiel-is--endgame @calspixie @lilithhellfire @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-dark-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @lanabanana-86 @nerdypinupcrystal @notyourtypicalrose @blackpantherimagines @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @roses-and-absinthe @supernaturalonice @stuckybarton @ruff-m3rc @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @heartbeats-wildly @xdatbitch @tea-with-seb @bodhi-black @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel @holylulusworld @yagurlrosie @heartislubbingdubbing @couldntbedamned @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @spaghettirogers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes @amelia-acero @marvelmaree @lazinessisalliknow @steadypetty @they-call-me-le @kissedbythedarkness @wintersoldier1017 @fandomkolors @supernaturaldean67 @biba3434 @brokensunflowersworld @marvel-fan23 @collette04 @hannahxem @noteyebox @basementcafe @imkloeyjarvis @periodtcevans

#what was what will be #sequel #series #thor #dark!thor #dark!thor x reader #thor x reader #thor fic #fic #au #mcu #marvel #dark!verse #darkverse #request #and so it is

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littlemessyjessi · 6 years

Text

“Feeling Stabby”: Connor Slaughter (Wolves) Imagine

Connor Slaughter Imagine Fall Imagines Connor Slaughter x Reader

Imagine carving pumpkins (pumpkin carving contest) with Connor...

If you were being honest...you wanted to slap Angel right about now.

Seconded only by your desire to choke Cayden.

Why?

Because those two shits had decided to stick you and Connor Slaughter together.

Explanations you say?

Well, after all the bullshit between Connor, Cayden and Angel and the whole kit and caboodle....they'd somehow managed to make peace between them.

Cayden and Connor were trying to have some kind of decent father-son relationship and hell, Cayden and Angel got on your damn nerves because they fucked like bunnies every chance they got.

It awkward as hell.

Oh, who am I kidding?

It was just fucking weird.

See, Connor had had a thing for you for a very long time.

And he hadn't exactly kept it a secret but you'd shut his ass down so fast and hard that he just backed off.

You were an aggressive little fucker with a big mouth, short temper and a tendency to stab if someone got a little too close for your liking.

Connor knew that had to be a big part of why he liked you so much.

You had fire and grit...and for someone like him...that was attractive.

So naturally, you were just unimaginably radiant to him as you sat there like an irritable little badger.

You did more ripping and stabbing to your pumpkin than you did gutting and carving...but that was alright by him.

He could feel the heat radiating off your skin in irritation from where he sat and he nearly choked to death just trying to keep down his laughter as you grumbled to yourself.

"Pumpkin carving....stupid....ridiculous tradition...fucking awkward bunnies...stupid oaf...stupid pumpkins....stupid Angel....stupid Cayden...stupid me." you grumbled as you lost your temper and promptly stabbed your pumpkin about five times in it's 'face' repeatedly.

Seeing your gritted teeth and pinched face made Connor finally lose his cool and he broke into a fit of laughter.

"Hey!" you said looking up at him with a furrowed brow and a knife thrust in his direction. "You shut it, Slaughter! Or I'll gut you..."

With another grumble you stabbed your poor excuse of a jack - o - lantern right through the top.

"Poor Jack." Connor chuckled and you just yanked the knife out again and swept it off to the side to make room for your next victim.

"Why did I have to come to this little 'family' outing?" you grumbled, stabbing your next pumpkin with enough ferocity that the woman next to you actually moved over some.

"Oh, relax." you said. "It's a pumpkin carvin contest. If you didn't want pumpkin guts on your precious shirt you shouldn't have worn it."

"I don't think it's pumpkin guts she's afraid of, sugar." Connor chuckled again.

You glanced at her and offered a hollow sorry before 'carving' a little less enthusiastically.

"And I think they made you come as a favor to me." he said, keeping his eyes on his carving instead of meeting your accusatory glance.

"I will use this." you threatened.

"Oh, calm down." he said. "It was their idea. Not mine."

"Yet I see you did not object." You said pointedly.

He glanced up at you, those vivid eyes of his dancing in the light.

"No, I didn't." he said.

"Why?" you questioned.

"You know why." he counted. "Look, I've never beat around the bush about this with you. I like you and you know it."

"Yeah, so?" you quipped.

"So, nothing." he said with a shrug.

"If it's nothing, then why am I being carted off to some fall festival and miraculously paired up with you for every. single. activity? you said lightly stabbing the pumpkin with the last three words.

"Because they're young." he said simply. "They'll learn that romantic movies with happen chance circumstances don't change if one party doesn't like the other."

"I never said I didn't like you...." you grumbled....in addition to more stabbing of the pumpkin.

Honestly, just poor pumpkin.

Connor's eyes snapped up, "Excuse me? What? You've tried to stabbed me on more than one occasion."

"Tried?" you narrowed your eyes. "I've suceeded a few of those times actually."

"Uh, yeah, I know. I'm the one with the scars." he said. "No one appreciates those little wolfsbane dips you do."

The mention of your blade coat and soaking agent brought an evil smirk to your face.

"Don't be a pussy." you said. "I knew it wouldn't kill you and you'd heal fast. You always do."

"It still fucking hurt." he said in disbelief and some irritation.

"Well, I had to test it somehow." you said shrugging your shoulders. "There aren't exactly very many pure breeds around here, Connor and if I'd stabbed someone else I might've killed them."

Connor just stared at you for a second.

You'd pissed him off, made him say something filthy to you and stabbed him solely for the purpose of testing out a new invention of yours.

Hell, if he wasn't so impressed he'd probably tear your damn head off.

Well, that and the fact that he loved you.

"Ok, so putting the topic of you stabbing me in the name of science for a just a second and you can bet your ass that we'll definitely be back to that....let's return to the original narrative." he said.

He moved both of the pumpkins over, took the knife away from you and took your hands.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

"Define feelings." you countered...squirming like the little worm you were being at the moment.

He leveled you with an unholy glare.

"I FEEL very irritated that you took my knife away..." you trailed off.

"Y/N."

"I feel very stabby."

"Y/N."

"I FEEL slightly enraged with Angel and Cayden because they are no where in sight and I feel like they've slunk off to be whores together again. Fucking bunnies...I swear to..."

"Y/N."

"I FEEL like I need to stab something again but I also FEEL angry because you took my knife!"

And with that statement you grabbed your scooping spoon and tried to stab his arms.

Connor's face was the epitome of done as he simple pulled your ass over the table, threw you over his shoulder and headed for less distractions.

"I'm FEELING very angry!" you said trying in vain to pummel him to death.

He eventually threw your ass in the bed of his truck, blocked your exits, pulled a bottle of water from the ice chest in the back and set it down in front of you.

"Are you ok?"

His sudden question threw you.

"You're getting skittish and excited." He pointed out. "I figure it's because you're over stimulated and you need some air. It's impossible to get anything out of you when you're like that."

"How did you know that?" you snapped though it was all bark and no bite.

Connor sat down on the gate of the truck and looked over at you.

"Honey, I've been in love with you for a long time." he said. "If I don't know anything else....I know you."

"That sounded very Edward Cullen of you." you said.

He rolled his eyes at your smart mouth.

"Now tell me." he said. "Do you have feelings for me or not?"

"I feel..."

"Don't start beating around the bush."

You threw the water at him, "Let me fucking talk!"

He stared at you for a moment and for a second, you wondered if you'd maybe pushed his final button.

"I feel...very strongly for you. I don't really know which direction it is in at the moment. I'll try to keep you posted." you said. "But...I feel like I like the deer meat that's the freezer at the moment and how it makes me feel taken care of."

Connor actually couldn't meet your eyes at that moment.

"I know you're the one who brings the kills from your hunts, Connor." you pointed out and damn if there wasn't a little rosyness to his neck at that comment. "No one else around here will make a move towards me or retaliate even if I initiate because they know you like me."

Nothing was said.

"I feel very safe around you despite the danger that seems to follow you." you said. "You're only wolf I know who would repeatedly let me stab them when I know you could easily take my head off without blinking. Sidenote...neither Cayden or Angel takes very well to that."

Connor snorted at your mouth....a welcome breather to the heavy topic.

"Who would take well to being stabbed, sweetheart?" he said.

You shrugged, "I didn't realize everyone was such delicate creatures."

He just chuckled.

"Honestly, Connor, like I said- I don't really know how I feel right now. I don't dislike you but I don't know that I'm just ready for romance or anything either." you admitted.

Connor was about to tell you that you could take all the time in the world.

But you opened your damn mouth again...

"I mean, I certainly wouldn't mind having you in my bed." you said. "Or on the couch...or the floor... or hey, are the safety brakes on in this thing?"

Connor fell back against the side of the truck laughing his ass off.

Only you.

You took advantage of the moment and sidled up next him.

Both of your backs pressed against the truck, legs stretched out in front of you both and sides pressed together.

"Maybe I like you a little." you admitted.

"Ok." Connor said when he'd finally sobered up. "I can work with a little."

"And maybe I want to be a little physical with you." you said.

"Ok, I can definitely get behind that." he said.

You slowly took his massive hand in yours and pulled it over to rest on your thigh.

"I'm weird so-"

"Yeah, I got that much."

You pounded your fist on his hand and squeezed it in momentary anger.

"I wasn't finished." you said. "As I was saying, I'm weird and I get a little odd about a bunch of PDA and I know you like that...but maybe just like gimme some time to get used to it?"

Connor didn't say anything and just brought your entwined fingers up to his lips for a little kiss.

"Sweetheart, take your time." he said. "I'm perfectly fine to sit here like this."

A few beats of silence passed.

"Though I'll admit I'm not opposed to the whole truck bed notion." he said.

An absolutely evil grinned ripped across your face and he let you pull him over until he was flat on his back.

You hopped up to sit on his waist and he let you play out your 'dominance' display.

"I got some rules." you said. "One, I really just wanna make out right now."

"Ok, done." he said. "Next?"

"I feel like you should lose that shirt of yours. You look awfully overheated. Poor Connor." you said and he smirked before removing said article of clothing.

"Three." you said. "I'm hungry now. I'm telling you this because when I've had my way with you and it's all done....I'll be starving. So I'm going to want to eat. We're going to need to plan for food....immediately after."

"Steakhouse?" he offered.

"Deal." you said.

And that my friends is how Connor Slaughter's truck rocked so hard that it flipped.

To this day, he won't get rid of it because he swears every dent was worth it.

Heeeeeeeeey, smoochies!!! I hope you enjoyed this imagine with the ever smexy Connor! I loved writing with this fiesty reader insert! She was such fun! Random, rage-y and really cute, lol. If you liked it please be sure to let me know in the comment section! If you want to see more like it please tell me! Happy Reading!!!

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Love, Kenny

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otomeshistarlight-blog · 6 years

Note

Me, all the time, only ever about my man Enji, lmao. Like just imagine that full feeling, stretched beyond comprehension, his dick is hot & pulsing. Just straight up abusing your cervix. MMM, I need me an Enji.

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Enji Todoroki is not gentle, nor a particularly intimate person.

Although the increasingly humiliating positions you find yourself in are no doubt carnal in nature, there is nothing in this relationship that can be misconstrued as lovemaking. He is rough with you, demanding and almost predatory. He demands more out of your body than you sometimes think you’re capable of giving. But every time, through one means or another, he pulls you out of the flames and onto the other side.

The rush alone keeps you coming back for more.

Enji warned you that you weren’t ready to take him. That you weren’t physically capable of handling what he had to offer.

‘I think I know my own limits’, you’d insisted. And you pushed, and pushed, and pushed until you finally got what you wanted.

That was the first time, and you never got a second warning after that.

Now he forced you to accommodate him, bent you to his will and used you like a delightfully tight cock sleeve whenever and wherever he saw fit. You were little more than a doll in his massive hands which set fire to everything they touched. Frail. Helpless. Malleable. You were his to do with as he pleased, and it was his prerogative whether or not time was wasted stretching you out beforehand.

It rarely was, because he was a man with precious little time to spare.

‘Why should I bother with prep when you were so confident that you could handle me?’ Enji said, amused, but you barely heard his voice over the stricken bleating coming out of your own mouth.

His cock was huge. Easily the biggest you’d ever seen, let alone taken. It was a struggle just to get the head in when your body was trying so desperately to reject the massive intrusion. But Enji was nothing if not relentless. He pushed into your sopping wet cunt, applied a little more force and leaned into it. You threw your head back to wail up at the ceiling, already sounding like something broken and damaged. Stretching, aching, burning, white hot static. Even lube did very little to make the initial penetration easy on you. He was just that big.

You clutched at him throughout the agonizingly sluggish process; blindly clawing at his impossibly large biceps, his thick chest, even his neck. No part of him was safe from the bite of your nails while Enji speared you on his cock in tortuous slow motion. It felt like you were being split in two, pushed to the absolute breaking point, and when he finally bottomed out inside of you it almost felt like you’d been impaled.

Would you die happy?

It was hard to fathom how one person could feel so incredibly full. You were stuffed to bursting and it left you reeling underneath him, groaning noisily like a bitch in heat. Your pussy only gushed around him all the more when he quietly shushed you, not gently, no. But in the same gruff way he commanded everything else in his life.

A soothing hand - so enormous and powerful and rough with callouses - tangled in your hair, just at the nape of your neck. It twisted and locked, pulled your head up, forcing you to look at his face. His eyes were like flaming sapphires, burning a hole straight through you down to your soul. Your entire body shook around him, trembled and writhed, shuddered with each labored breath. And when Enji finally started to move, sliding out until just the tip remained wedged inside your tight little twat, it felt like he was dragging your guts out with him.

‘Look how well you take my cock … I guess you were right after all.’

Any sympathy he may have held for you, his favorite, gasping, groaning girl, is discarded without a second thought. He slams up into you so hard you see stars. His dick carves into you like he’s trying to dig out his own space (because, really, who else could possibly fill you out the way he does, this is just for him) and you scream out like no man has ever made you scream before.

The proof of all those long hours spent inside the gym shows with his stamina - he’s not even breaking a sweat.

The proof of all that strength training shows with the power behind his thrusts - it really feels like he’s trying to force his way straight through your cervix and you’re not so sure he won’t succeed.

The proof of his undeniable lust for you shows with the filthy words he grunts into your ear and whispers against your cheeks - telling you exactly how good your cunt feels squeezing around him and how he’s so proud of you for being able to take all of him.

And through it all that insidious curve of his, just the slightest upturn towards the half way point of his shaft, shoves you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion with every single inward push. You pique once, uncontrollably convulsing with a half choked sob. Enji fucks you straight through it and into the next while, making derisive comments about how sensitive you are. He just continues to pound you into the futon without concern. When your third orgasm bears down on you, his dirty talk takes a sudden, unexpected turn and you listen as if in a euphoric daze.

‘I should just knock you up and be done with it.’ He growls into your neck. ‘These tits of yours aren’t all that big, but just wait until I put a baby in you. Sloshing full of milk and tender. You’d look absolutely perfect.’

Just the simple thought of carrying his child - of belonging to him so completely - violently shoves you over the edge a fourth time. Your eyes start to roll into the back of your head, blissfully doped out as you are, and Enji pauses just long enough to gather your legs in his hands. He pushes, hooks your ankles over his broad, musclebound shoulders and bends you up like a pretzel so that your pelvis is titled skyward. He pistons into you again, driving down into your sloppy cunt with what feels like the entire weight of his body behind the motion. You’re so incredibly, deliciously sore at this point and you scream in toe-curling ecstasy when he rips yet another orgasm out of you, paying no mind to your ceaseless keening while he chases his own pleasure.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being the mother of my next child.’ He smirks down at you, practically sneering, an almost manic glint in his teal eyes. ‘I could make an honest woman out of you yet … watch your belly grow big and round. How does that sound?’

You’re so far gone with mind numbing pleasure that your mouth starts flapping on autopilot and you clamp around his cock hard when you realize that you’re begging him to do it. Pleading for him to cum inside you until you’re bloated and leaking, assuring him that you’ll be a good mother and an obedient wife if he’d just give you that chance. His breath hitches at your blubbering words, the sincere desperation with which you speak, and pearly white teeth clamp down on a full bottom lip as he proceeds to absolutely destroy your pussy.

The loud tempo of flesh on flesh clapping together grows louder, faster, harder. He’s trying to eviscerate you and you scream so loud that the entire neighborhood surely hears it. Enji almost seems like a man possessed, thrusting into you with such animalistic ferocity, his gigantic, hulking body heaving over top of yours, and you know he’s getting close when flames start to spark across his shoulders. The resulting heat makes you feel dizzy and disoriented, as if his high body temperature hadn’t been enough to contend with. But with practiced ease, he gets his quirk back under control and he jackhammers into you so hard that you start to teeter on the edge of consciousness.

What draws you back to reality is not the guttural howl Enji releases, but rather its the sensation of lava flooding your cervix. Your eyes snap open, locking on his heaving figure hunched over you with the slightest sheen of perspiration coating his forehead. He’s still and panting now, holding your hips in place while he empties out his balls and you tremble when spurt after spurt just keeps coming. His cock twitches inside you with each fresh wave of ejaculate, coating your walls sticky hot. He stays like that for a long moment, waiting, as if to make sure his seed catches and takes root.

Finally he pulls out, slow so as not deprive your hungry cunt of any of his unnaturally hot semen. You start to ease your legs back down onto the mattress with a devastated groan only to yelp when he delivers a quick swat to the meat of your ass. You look up at him in question, awkwardly keeping your knees bent up towards your chest, and Enji fixes you with a truly wolfish smile as he takes his cock in hand to work it back to life with slow, easy flicks of the wrist.

‘Stay just like that. I have every intention of granting your wish, so don’t you dare a spill drop.’

#todoroki enji #Endeavor #self insert bullshit

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katedrazapozabljanje-blog · 3 years

Text

Some sort of fantasy with sexual connotations but larger-than-usual implications for ones state of mind.

I kinda have this sudden urge to take a vacation, close myself up in the apartment for a week and do nothing but blaze and fuck. Food? Delivered twice a day with minimal interaction. Other stuff? Just... pass. If it doesnt directly or very-close-to satisfy my primary needs and parts of more complex Maslov stuff that are entwined in that primary urges, I don’t want to hear it. Shut down all devices for communication and only leave emergency channels open. Then. Get hard. Get edged. Get tamed. Repeat the cycle throughout the day. Never cum. You need to preserve all you can, so you can give her a “good night” load, which will at that point be a sum of all false alarms that stressed your balls through the day. A fucking water reservoir - in front of which a dam broke down - ready to flood whole insides of your mouth. And then, make you guzzle it all and thank me. Fall asleep in that uncofortable head-on-shoulders, bodies forming a catheti of a right triangle, kind of way which only the first eruptions of passion can permit.

Wake up, drink coffee. But not too much. Just enough to get over that intial let down of standing up and denying your dick the blood it requires. To kickstart your it, so you can start smacking her ass with the bulge in your pants even before you've come back to residence, walking behind her in a near-spooning congruence. Watch her panties get wet as shit. Slowly remove them, but don’t tear. You will undo their placement a lot and before long she'd end up pantyless, which would be suboptimal for your aesthetic sensibilities. It is a known fact that slightly covered bodies - that hide just enough to make you wanna go to police school, do the drills, patrol the streets so you can eventually make a detective - are way hotter than totally naked ones. Maybe because those remind you of an already finished errand. Of a denied multiverse split that would occur upon yourself laying eyes on her body and determining just how much you wanna fuck that neatly stitched meat sack. And then, you'd make her roleplay as your little brother, because you know she'd be slightly uncomfortable because of it, since she's not attracted to him in any capacity whatsoever and would therefore probably slightly dislike playing him. We'd fight over who first punched who, whose fault it is that the dishes aren't clean today, who got better grades at which subjects and so on. Until I'd be overcome with anger and wolf down on her body. Froth on my lips, canine teeth having an extra spurt of growth, purely through sheer power of my will to incise her body, to really carve it with and after my own taste. And then, hold her like a little pup. Tell her that its going to be okay. Wait, I don't want this to be a brother fantasy, i'm digging the wolf daddy pup stuff too much. I wasn't too excited about it in the first place. Like, sister would probably work better, so you know, replace everywhere that needs replacing.

And... As the big, caring wolf I could tell her, that I need to go hunt food, whenever I'd leave her alone for a few minutes while fetching the takeout. And she'd let out sad little muted howls, informing me at the same time of the fact that she knows this behaviour is not socially acceptable but at the same time revealing her unrelenting desire to be the only object of my attention. And then we’d venture into the kitchen. We’d laugh about being real fucking oddballs and make jokes at the expense of our previous mattress-related fails, while waiting for the tea-intended water to boil. We would never use the word “finally”, because we’d be stuck in series of present moments, so detached from past experiences and future wishes, that they couldn’t affect the sacred now. And then, I’d try some sense deprivation on you. I’d put the blindfold over your eyes, fill both ears with ear-plugs and erect another sound barrier with my noice-cancelling headphones, which would play some whitenoiseish sound to further block your attempts to unscrable the waves floating around you. I would also plug your nose. It may, at a glance, seem like an overkill, but I think it is absolutely essential to shut it down because people determine more from smell than our positive discrimination of other senses usually lets on. Fetch the flavourless candles and fire them up, let them slowly burn and produce melted wax. Let her just lie there, alone for 5 or 10 minutes. Make her question your commitement to fucking her again and all the time as you’ve promised. And then, out of nowhere, when she finally seems at peace, foregoing thoughts of her regular destructive loops, probably alreadyt thinking about what I will do to her, I do it to her. Just short little drops. Short, piercing pain waves of undiscernable origin. She might be guessing its just candle wax. But she also can’t ever know for sure. Fearing worse things. Her mind concocting wildest scenarious based on furiousness of her memory-driven imagination.

I wouldn't need to respond to every generic notification sound my cell produces. Craving that sweet e-thot attention. Because she'd already be there. That little untamed vixen in need of a good fur stroking, somebody to give her freedom structure within which it can be meaningfully expressed. Because limitless freedom is in itself brutishly oppresive. It is through opposition and current-freedom barrier-breaking that we are able to invent new ways of reasoning about the world, new ways in which we can be crazy. And not crazy in a two-bit lowbrow meaning of the word. What I had in mind is that crazy, that gets enacted within parameters of ones death drive. That crazy that engulfs people into a space separated from all everyday activity, that usually grinds down our already crumbling mind throughout the day. And with that crazy I could operate. Maybe, we could make it a ritual? Like two weekends a month? Just smoking insane amounts of weed and having your dick stabbed inside that pussy like the sword of King Arthur. Unseparable from the stone. Unable to part without instant feeling of deprival on both sides of the friction. Wait, in this metaphore, does she then leave for another man, since one day King Arthur comes around? Or is said person then somebody who tells me who to fuck for their pleasure? Unsure. People and swords might not have 1:1 feature parity.

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rather-annoying-blog · 6 years

Text

Men and women: The stripper discrepancy.

Let’s address a fundamental question here:

Why is it okay for the media to show a male model stripping to cheering women when it’s morally unacceptable to show a women stripping to cheering men?

Why is it okay for women to objectify men but not okay for men to objectify women?

In a nutshell, that’s because very few women actually objectify men whereas very few men manage to see beyond what sexually arouses them.

As a gay man in my 30s, I got to experience both sides when living in England and I have to say there is a massive difference in how the model/stripper is treated. Maybe I have been living in Care Bears world but unlike men, I have never witnessed women calling the stripping man names such as “fucker”, “cunt”, “slag”, “whore”, “piggy”, “bastard”, “dirty little slut” et al, rather “honey”, “sweety”, “sexy daddy”.

I have never heard women say to the stripping man: “You want it, don’t you? I know you do, you dirty pig! To suck my pussy! Yeah, that’s right! All you really want is for me to sit on your face so you can shove your nose in it. Come on, baby, open your mouth and taste my juice. We both know that’s why you’re here!”

I have never seen a women crossing the lines that were clearly marked. Never have we had to even restrain a female friend because she simply decided it was better to disregard what we talked about, what the agency told us beforehand and just shoved her hand in there to grab the guy’s penis or force him to perform a sexual act right here, right now just because she pays the price. That’s rape, by the way.

With women, the ambiance is of fun. Genuine fun. Little alcohol and a lot of laughter in a mostly bright environment. Once, the room was dark but all the other couple of times, it was fully lit and we could all see each other very clearly. I never felt disgusted or disgusting - I did come over queasy. (He did not mind, though).

The point was to, indeed, enjoy the amazing body of a man who worked hard to get it, but mostly to have a fun and to make fun of the most prudish girls by making the guy dance on them as they were cringing whilst also laughing.

My female friends would talk with the guy afterwards like a normal person after he had put his clothes back on. We would share drinks and would talk to him, he would become part of the guests until he had to go to his next job.

We would pay him for his stripping as a entertainer and we would always acknowledge his humanity. Some have thought otherwise, I am sure, but we never acted like we owned him for the time he worked for us. Of course we had his body in our head and we talked about it with him too, trying to hide the fact that we did crave for him to pound each of us until we turned blue. Nevertheless, he was never meant to feel like just a piece of worthless meat designed solely for our most unbalanced sexual fantasies, or as an morally reprehensible accessory we would share in secret as mean to bound us further.

Whereas all the abhorrent talk and insults I mentioned before is what I have always witnessed with men. With men, it’s squalid, insulting, disgusting. You always find yourself in some weird places in the badly-lit backstreets of towns, in a room where you cannot see anyone else but the girl doing what is essentially a job to pay the rent, the food for her kids or her studies.

Do any of the men present even think about that as they shout insults? Does it even cross their mind that the moving body in front of them is living beyond these walls, has a life and has a story to tell? No. And not because they are inherent low-lives but because they drink to behave as such.

Indeed, unlike with women, there is this constant need for alcohol with men because of course behaving like beasts doesn’t come naturally to humans anymore. Education means inhibitions that will only go away with drugs.

With men, I witnessed what we have normalised as “locker room talk”: this competition in being the one who will degrade the stripping woman the most, this bounding in the secrecy of doing together something they know to be wrong or reprehensible. This “Bros before hoes” mentality where the “hoe” will pay the price of the men becoming “bros” – sports being the cesspit of this type of masculinity.

Personally, I have seen married men having to be pushed back by bouncers because they always want to put their hands where they know they mustn’t. I have seen friends of mine in long-term relationships becoming nothing but sex on legs, rubbing their crouch, if not just plainly masturbating within less than a minute after the girl started.

There are many reasons to explain the difference in behaviours and why women very rarely objectify men like that men objectify women. One of them is how men and women behave towards finding a mate to begin with, as women are told very early that finding the “right one” is an essential goal in their life. Therefore every “alpha male” is not just yet another fuck on the way to menopause but a potential father. It is still deeply carved in the psyche of society and women so competition between women will be to be the most attractive to that man, the most wife-material and that’s not by drinking, swearing and assaulting them that it will occur. Men don’t have this kind of expectations regarding women and themselves.

Actually, speaking of gender education, what I am saying is not entirely true for men are changing. In November, the Guardian published an article showing that men do not enjoy the debauchery of stag-dos anymore, a study that comes after travel agencies have noticed a change in stag-dos pattern and what men do before they get married: no stripper, it’s all about arts and wine.

What these studies show is a trend towards the end of objectification altogether as brotherhood is being redefined. We thought men enjoyed objectifying and found it acceptable, we thought and still think it is the norm within between men, as shows the question I am addressing. In fact, no matter what Mr Trump and over-60s ilks might think, do, say and pretend, it turns out, overall men actually don’t enjoy it. As men are ever more educated towards gender equality and being in touch with their feelings and the ones of others, they find objectification more and more degrading for the woman and also for themselves. They don’t enjoy being reduced to senseless beasts anymore.

Now, we are a long way from a group of men platonically inviting the female stripper to join them as a guest to their party without any ulterior motives but we are getting there in terms of mutual respect. And aside the sexual roasting of footballers and other sportsmen, I can’t help but also seeing American series like Friends which, more than a decade ago, were already showing the decline of a brotherhood and male friendship built solely around the sexual objectification of women. And as far as sisterhood is concerned, it is defined within the realm of femininity, not towards or at the direct expense of men.

In the meantime, this difference between men and women, the difference in how they see and treat the other gender stripping, how much of their humanity they actually acknowledge, the difference is what part the other gender plays in the definition of brotherhood and sisterhood is what makes women enjoying a man stripping morally more acceptable.

#men and women #objectification #opinion #muslim brotherhood #sisterhood #gender issues

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sxgiittxriius · 7 years

Text

voicemail [2] Hermione's Revenge || M

Thought of doing this also pt 2 of voicemail bc some of you guys have asked what draco did…

It wasn’t what she’d meant when she wanted and told her boyfriend of four years that she wanted to do something daring.

It was a suprise for her when Draco came to her office during the little time she had on her lunch break before going back to work. The both didn’t work out when he should surprise her and it was a massive shock when this happened.

Draco came in with beautiful red roses behind his back. Hermione took the bouquet, and as she bowed her head to smell the flowers, she didn’t realise he had disappeared in front of her until she felt it.

📚

He waited until his girlfriend took his eyes off of him to bend her head to smell the roses.

As she did that, Draco quietly went down and kissed her core while grabbing her ass.

📚

Draco Malfoy was going down on her and she barely had the time to put the roses down before she dropped it from shock. This wasn’t the first time he would go down on her somewhere that wasn’t at home.

The first time he did this was when they were out on a date and she had asked to sit. Draco found a secluded chair and took her there. (well looks like I’m going to hell, and I’m bringing all you guys with me in this next paragraph)

While she was bending down to take her heels off she was pushed forward to a tree and gasped as he tongued her back hole. Her dress was pushed up to her waist, Hermione’s eyes rolled back in pleasure.

He usually does this at a time whenever he could, just so she could stop her reading or research so she could relax other than that it was when he would get frisky.

This, however, was the second time for him to do it in public. In her office, where Grace, her assistant or Kingsley could come in.

The fact that Hermione Granger enjoyed it so much she and Draco had forgotten to lock the doors.

Draco went from slow to an aggressive pace as he carried his girlfriend to her chair.

Hermione’s hole dripped for him as he ran his tongue over her slit and held her thighs to his head, Hermione squirmed and shifted as the pleasure was becoming too much, before letting out moans then she had remembered that they weren’t at home but somewhere someone can come in easily.

Hermione tried to held them in by biting her lips and clutching her arm chair, she was then given his two fingers sliding in between her plump lips.

“D-draco, pwese tell me youhe lhoked the hoor and chamed the room.” She tried to tell him, wonders if it made any sense at all.

“S-sloh do-own” she felt two fingers enters her entrance.

And being the good boyfriend that he is, Draco slowed down, he slowly slipped two fingers inside her.

She inwardly gasped as she made eye contact and saw a glint in his eye, making her groan and curse at him.

“F-!”

The door to her office slammed open as Hermione’s assistant came in with piles of the folder in her hands.

“I really did need your help. I wondered why you didn’t answer my calls, I had thought you’d be out for lunch so I had Brad the new doorman to get it for me. I wonder if he’s single. Anyways, here are the new folders you’d asked for last week. I’ll put them on the desk, is that okay?”

Hermione didn’t answer as Grace placed the folders down.

“So, in two days we hav-”

It was difficult to concentrate on what Grace is currently saying, Hermione clutched one hand to Draco’s hair and the other on her wooden desk gripping so hard, her nails carved in.

“This folder is everyone you asked me to bring, I got Yaxley, Howar-” Grace continued on as she places each folder one by one on the desk.

Hermione could barely follow to what her assistant had said with Draco’s fingers inside her moving too fast, stroking in and out and occasionally curling to stimulate a certain spot that made her clench around him.

So when he had decided to start working her clit, his tongue rubbing slow circles that became Hermione’s undoing as she moaned out loud, eyes rolled back and head relaxed to her chair.

A sound of something falling to the floor made Hermione realise that they were not alone. Grace stood on the spot as she openly gawked at her boss. (?)

Embarrassed, Hermione couldn’t look to her assistant in the eye or even begin to explain what just happened.

“Grace…I-I.” Hermione stuttered.

“Sorry, I barged in. I’ll leave.” Grace clutched her face in shock as she magicked the door to be locked as she left.

Draco smirked as he heard the door locked, his hand moved up from her thigh to her waist as he slowly moved away from the lower half of her body.

Hermione demanded Draco to finish what he’d started.

He pulled her from her chair to lay on top of her desk, pushing away all of the folders to the floor.

📚 (already going to hell anyways Hermione’s revenge is coming straight up)

She decided to leave her book to take a nice hot shower when she heard his voice.

“No, that won’t do. Give me all the paperwork tomorrow and I’ll do them. No, no. Either it’s me or my father, Blaise.”

An idea quickly formed inside her head. A little revenge for what he did to her in her own office, what’s better than doing revenge on the bed? An embarrassed Draco Malfoy and his teasing friend.

When she entered their room, Draco sat on the bed with his back to the wall, phone to his ear and a frustrated look on his face.

Hermione felt that it was the perfect opportunity and excuse.

Grey eyes looked at her as she moved up to the bed, he looked ready to cut the conversation off and enjoy his lovely girlfriend in bed.

Hermione shook her head, he frowned at the sight. If the plan was to work he had to be on the phone.

When he saw her undress, he trailed off to stare at her legs to her back. Draco was ready to make an excuse to finish the business call but his name was called, Draco snapped back to his business as he pouted, he liked staring at her body it was clearly a fantastic night for him, but business came first when it’s all going down hill.

Draco sighed as he closed his eyes. That was clearly a mistake to make, Hermione sat between his legs spread and grabbed his cock.

Draco’s eyes shot open and thrusted his hip up. It took a while as she felt his arousal, she thinks it was because he’s doing two things at once. His voice betrayed him as he stuttered and stopped his sentences short.

Draco reached his hand out to her thigh, trying hard not to throw his phone away and thrust into her tight core.

He wouldn’t care if Blaise’s voice were stopped. He could always do a meeting with the company the next day.

Hermione pulled his pants down, she was surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing any boxers. Draco’s arousal was leaking at the tip of the head as his cock stood, he frowned as he looked at his girlfriend sitting there in front of him doing absolutely nothing to release the pressure off of him.

Hermione grabbed to his hard on and moved her hand upwards and downwards.

Draco shifted his body even straighter on the wall, the movement gave Hermione a chance to put her mouth on him and quickly took her mouth off.

Draco scowled.

Hermione took his free hand to cup her bare core and he entered his index and middle finger in, as fast as she can, she impaled on his fingers. She giggled as his face clearly showed some frustration as he wasn’t getting the head he wanted her to do.

Draco moved his hand in and out, occasionally scissoring his fingers inside her walls, sometimes curling his fingers into her g-spot.

Hermione wasn’t ready to come so instead she held to his hand and took it out of her pussy. She placed his index finger inside her mouth sucking his finger as if it was his cock, she moved even further with his middle finger, having him feel a little of the back of her throat.

Sucking and licking the two fingers clean of her juice, Hermione leaned forward to press her lips on his.

Hermione crawled down his body, took his cock and slowly licked a big trail from the base to the leaking tip. Her hand squeezed hard as her tongue played with the head of his cock as if she wanted to have her hot meat into him, not from the back but his front.

Draco wanted her to take him even deeper, he wanted to touch the back of her throat as he grips her hair. To deep fuck her so hard she’ll feel it in the morning.

Hermione took his cock in and moaned around him, she sucked and inwardly smiled after hearing something thrown to the wall and a loud pleasured groan.

It looks like her plan didn’t work as foolproof as she thought it would be, not after hearing his phone being thrown away. She knows that he knew why she took the advantage of him being on the phone.

Draco grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her back, he grabbed Hermione’s waist, laid her down on the bed. Draco held his cock and positioned it to her entrance.

He thrusted hard.

Rolling his hips, Draco threw his head into her neck and groaned. Finally, after those painful minutes of being toyed with, he’s finally inside her.

“I see you got your revenge.” He teased, his hands squeezing and feeling her.

Draco switched their position, he was where he started, sitting on the bed, back to the wall but this time he had her connected to him, this was one of the most favourite positions of his.

Masterlist

#dramione #dramione fanfiction #draco malfoyx hermione granger #Draco malfoy #hermione granger #Harry Potter #dramione smut #did I say I was going to hell?#voicemail part 2 #you've asked and I answered

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mysplaced-pen · 7 years

Note

THe RFA as the Heathers musical????? (◕‿-)*･｡ﾟ I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT YOU KNWO WE BOTH NEED THIS.(ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc) PLease the love o f my life, the 7 to my 07, the Chandelier to my McNAmara the Viktor to my YUuuri! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

babe!! i love you!!( ˘ ³˘)❤ you right, we need this. SOOOOO~~

[ DISCLAIMER : i didn’t really match up personalities??? its hard. im smol. its 2am. you’re right next to me. ]

Cast

MC - Veronica

Zen - Heather Chandler

Yoosung - Heather Duke

Jaehee - Heather McNamara

Jumin - Kurt

707 / Luciel / Saeyoung - JD

V / Jihyun - Ram

Saeran - Martha

Rika - Mrs. Fleming

Vanderwood - Preppy Stud / Principal Gowan / general ensemble

Highlights

Beautiful

MC being all smol and hopeful - “Dear Diary, I believe I’m a good person” “We were kind before, we can be kind once more”

If Vanderwood is the general ensemble, its just them yelling out insults. “Freak! Shortbus! Bug-eyes! Lard ass!” etc.

MC about V: “smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick”

Saeran loving the Princess Bride???

MC about Jumin: “kind of like being the tallest dwarf”

Jumin: “you have a zit right there”

Jaehee being head cheerleader is amazing

also: “if i took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, i’d have matching halves. thats very important”

Yoosung being Duke and being snarky to Zen

MC about Zen: “he is a mythic bitch.” which is me about him tbh

Rika not giving a fuck about Yoosung throwing up in the bathroom rip

Saeran watching MC get sold to the rfa smh

Candy Store

literally everything about this is iconic

Zen: “WHY NOW ARE YOU PULLING ON MY D I C K?”

the subtle gay between Veronica + Mac is now Jaehee x MC

Zen to Yoosung: “SHUT UP HEA THER”

Zen being a dramatic asshole with that long note

Jaehee hitting them harmonies hell yeah

i love this part of this stupid au listen

Fight For Me

MC to 707: “hey, Mr. No Name Kid”

707 literally beating up Jumin and V???????

where is this au going

7 is actually 3 cats in a trench coat

MC is #whipped

Vanderwood in the background: “holy shit! holy shit holy shit holy shiiiiiit”

MC in general: “Dᵃᵃᵃaamn”

MC knows CPR how handy

“You can punch real good”

Freeze Your Brain

ok but?? all of this song is 7??????

“who needs cocaineeeee?”

minus the dad rip

7 goes to 7-Eleven

god bless

“altar of slush” is something Seven would have ok

*sip noise*

Big Fun

idk its party song

Yoosung, Jaehee, and Zen going: “dang dang diggity dang a dang”

V hating freshman

Jumin going: “yOU NEED A JELLO SHOT”

disregard martha having feelings for ram rip i dont ship that

“LETS USE THEIR SHOWERS. THAT SOUNDS LIKE BIG FUN”

its a party idk what to tell you

Dead Girl Walking

do I have to explain this one?

MC in 7′s yard

MC about Zen: “the demon queen of high school”

“spend these 30 hours getting..fREAAKKYYYYYYYY YEA”

Seven: “how’d you find my address?” and “that works for me, hoop”

its a sex song

thats it

yall do the do

The Me Inside of Me

Zen is dead

Zen: “IM BIGGER THAN JOHN LENNON”

this is what Zen deserves in death

i cant believe mc and 707 poisoned zen

this is the song his fanclub sings

jaehee is in mourning

rika: “this is the loveliest suicide note I’ve ever read”

Blue

rip

Jumin and V, drunk and trying to get into MC’s pants?

seems legit

V: “Heyyy ‘ronia” ;)))))

MC: “you got a left hand, use it”

Yoosung and Jaehee just shaking their heads in the car and singing along

this song is a mess

Jumin and V had too much wine

Our Love is God

here w e goooo

707 being all cute at first

Jumin and V: “free pussy. and we dont even have to buy it a pizza”

Our love is god 7

“Ich Luge” bullets yeah sure saeyoung

“we’re what killed the dinosaurs”

707 kills V????????

Jumin to 7: “you killed my best friend”

nOW IM SAD ITS 2:30ISH AND IM GONNA CRY

My Dead Gay Son

Vanderwood can move over, I’ll sing this song

i mean…i love my dead gay sons

they’re bi, but….

anyway

now they’re dead

rip in pieces

Seventeen

this is where MC tries to convice 7 to be normal

and its cute

and they talk about prom and dancing and camping

cute couple moment

thats about it

Shine A Light

here’s rika trying to make light of a situation that shouldn’t be lightened on

and the start of Jaehee’s breakdown

“my husband left” the world, ye

Rika: “i’ve joined a cult”

also Rika: “so Steve, I’m ending our affair. And I faked it. every single time.”

….anyway

Lifeboat

my beautiful wife’s beautiful solo

she’s so sad

the people around her are dying

she’s kill this song it would sound so good

being salty about Yoosung being the new leader

“well who made her captain?!…still, the weakest must go”

save my wife

Shine A Light(Reprise)

aka Yandere Yoosung

or, in Jaehee’s thoughts

look, more subtext gay

honestly, just….

im sad, next song

Kindergarten Boyfriend

smh Saeran we don’t need anymore deaths

[ changes this song to some angsty twin situation because,,, ]

“Where naptime lasts for centuries”

someone spare him

Yo Girl

the return of all the dead people!

and 7 really starting to go crazy

Zen’s ominous: “he’s got your handwriting down cold~”

Vanderwood as MC’s parents.

The Dead Trio: “come join Heather in hell~”

MC’s desperate “get out of my house!”

707′s “knock, knock~~~”

i like this song tbh its short but ooooooh

Meant To Be Yours

this song is also just 707 in general

just *clenches fist* ooooooh

he’s this angsty

plot twist: this whole musical is just one of 7′s bad endings

sound effects for days

“bring marshmallows, we’ll make s’mores~”

and then it starts to get Really Angsty

“you were meant to be mine. i am all that you need. you carved open my heart. can’t just leave me to bleed. vERONICA- open the, open the door please”

and then mc does….the Thing

“STILL I WILL IF I MUUSSSSSST”

vanderwood as mc’s mom yelling when they see what happened

Dead Girl Walking (Reprise)

MC going all 180 here and now they wanna die with Seven

Rika back at it again: “I threw together a lovely tribute, especially under such short notice”

Just imagine Jaehee doing a cheer that goes “send you straight to hell!”

MC trying hard here, “I wish your dad was good, I wish grownups understood”

Seven going full psycho: “I wish I had more TNT”

*cue epic fight scene*

“Send you straight to-”

I Am Damaged

SADNESS

7: “I respectfully, disagree.”

he’s too damaged. far too damaged

im gonna cry;;

“I worship you…I’d trade my life for yours”

o H MY GOD

“And when I disappear..”

WA IT HOLD O N NOT THIS WAAAAY

“our love is god…”

B O O M

yoosung: “you look like hell” mc: “yeah. i just got back”

Seventeen (Reprise)

and we leave you with these questions:

will saeran ever get over kindergarten?

will jaehee and MC finally Be Gay as a true ending?

when will MC stop

find out more next time on: “Random Ass AUs: the Musical”

#honestly....wtf is this #a request!#pastel-nonbinary #babe!!!#the 7 to my 07 #rfa+#mystic messenger #mysme #it its 3:30am #no one really needed it #but oh well #for you babe

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