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nanamiscocksleeve · 4 months ago

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Telling The LADS Men to Ditch The Condom

Them reacting to you saying you want them to fuck you raw. Warnings : MDNI, sex, oral, handjob, and general smut These banners are mine, please do not reuse them.

Zayne, as a doctor, preached safe sex. He appreciates the responsibility and nothing is more attractive to him than a woman who is aware of her birth control options and doesn’t mind communicating openly with him about these decisions. After all, having sex was such an intimate act for him that he wouldn’t even think about it until you’d been dating for at least a month. He likes the exclusivity and the closeness of sex, and that includes being held accountable for the choices both of you made in the bedroom. So when you tell him to lose the condom, he blinks, making sure he hasn’t misheard you.

“You…want to do it without a condom?”

His head is between your thighs, kissing and nibbling the soft flesh as he edges his way towards the moist and sensitive folds, and he raises up on his elbows to ensure his ears aren’t being obstructed by your legs.

You nod slowly, blushing as his dark eyes fixated on yours, the flecks of amber in them lightening at the idea. His pupils dilate at your affirmation, and he hoists himself up a little higher, resting on your belly, gently stroking your flanks. “You’re sure about this? There’s no pressure you know.”

“I know. But I feel like we’ve been together long enough to allow ourselves to go one step further. And I’m on the pill. We can monitor the situation later if you want to but honestly Zayne, I think any step I take with you isn’t going to be something I regret.” You say the words candidly, reaching down to stroke his black, silky, locks of hair, heart skipping a beat as he plays with the squish of your belly, nuzzling his face into the softness. “I want to feel you. All of you.”

His eyes flutter closed for a second, the ebony eyelashes resting like fans on his cheekbones before he sighs, the little puff of air sending a shiver across your middle. He crawls up towards your face, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss, tongue sliding across the slit of your lips before entering inside. You cup his face and deepen the kiss, heat gathering in your body. Zayne pulls away only to come to your ear, hot breath tickling you as he speaks.

“I don’t think I’ll regret this either.” He licks the shell of your ear, making you twitch. “But remember, if you change your mind, I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

His words are so sincere and spoken with love, adding fuel to the fire. Zayne, patient and considerate, is looking at you with those sharp eyes as if you’re his last meal on earth. He kisses his way down, pausing briefly to shower some attention over your perked nipples, giving them soft licks and kisses that make you mewl and whine with need. Once he’s back at his original spot between your legs, your arousal has increased a hundredfold, your sex soft and swollen, leaking fluid as he parts your folds.

His tongue darts out, tasting you, licking slow lines from cunt to clit, before slurping the swollen pearl into his mouth, suctioning it with his lips. His middle finger flirts with your entrance, teasing it until it starts sucking in his fingertip, drawing a moan from you as he strokes it along your upper wall.

Zayne knew his anatomy and he never wasted a second in touching you exactly in the spot that made you feel like you were turning into a pile of goo. Never in a hurry, always taking his time, coaxing orgasms from you like a hobby, the breath tearing from your throat, your core spasming from the pleasurable waves that radiate throughout your body. Zayne nudges you through the final vestiges of your orgasm before stroking himself, readying his hardened cock.

He’s done this before but what gets to him as he aligns his tip with your hot entrance is how heightened the sensation is, the absence of latex allowing him to profoundly feel every muscle contract and fully experience how wet and welcoming your body truly was. He grits his teeth, his balls throbbing, desire surging through his veins, almost snapping his self-control.

He inches in slowly, splitting you apart, marveling at how you stretch to fit him, the little noises that leave your throat music to his ears. Once fully sheathed, he looks at you, hair tousled and splayed across the pillow, a flush across your face. He thrusts with care, drawing a moan of longing from you and softly rolls his hips, adjusting himself at an angle he knew you liked.

Every movement brushed his mushroomhead against your gspot, soft sighs filling the air, his lips descending onto yours, his thumb working your clit, gradually bringing up your pleasure to another peak.

“You feel so good darling,” he pants, his thrusts becoming steadily faster, his willpower fading away to primal need. “Taking me so well,” he whispers, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss.

Your body is reeling from the stimulation and with Zayne’s gentle ministrations on your clit you cum with a cry, his hips stuttering as he feels the orgasmic spasms of your core around his cock. He tries to hold on, but it’s too much, his head growing sensitive as your second orgasm sucks him in deeper into your warmth, his balls tightening up and the coil in his belly compressed to a limit until it snaps, and with a grunt, he spills himself into your body.

Afterwards, he holds you tenderly, gently easing out, and cleaning up your messy slit with a warm washcloth, playing with your hair until the both of you fall asleep.

This is a man who’s been taught condoms are the best way to avoid complications. It’s a golden rule that he will not have unprotected sex for both health reasons and to avoid making the person he’s with uncomfortable. You don’t have condoms? He’s running to the pharmacy to get some. He takes these things seriously and understands that it’s simply gentlemanly to be the one to buy condoms. Xavier wants to feel like he can be relied on in situations like this and that you should never feel awkward asking him to make a condom run or any kind of run.

He’s reaching for the box to roll one onto himself when you hold his wrist. Curiously, he looks at you, a sight to behold, a heavenly sight laying on his bed, lips plump and swollen from his kisses, body glistening with sweat from your recent orgasm.

“Ditch the condom Xav,” you murmur, tracing his arm with your fingers, causing goosebumps to bloom on his skin, his usually slow heartbeat picking up a few paces.

“Are you sure angel?” He lays down gathering you in his arms, his erection tickling your belly as he breathes in the perfume of your hair.

“Positive.” You stroke his cheek reassuringly, feeling like you could drown in the depths of his blue eyes, unable to control the little giggle that leaves your throat as he blushes at your confirmation.

“Xavier.” You grasp his chin, forcing him to look at you. “I’ve never been more sure. I know I can trust you, rely on you. And right now, I can’t think of anything I want more than to feel you inside me, no barriers.”

He’s shy, his smile so awkward and his face so pink. This was new to him, and the fact that you’re asking so sweetly is pulling at his heartstrings. After hesitating for another moment he places the condom back on the nightstand.

“All right angel. Since you're sure. But tell me if you feel uncomfortable at all ok?” Xavier rubs his thumbs over your cheekbones in circles, a sweet and tender gesture, carefully laying over you, his chest coming into contact with yours as he tips your face up for a kiss, his hands slipping under you and clasping your shoulder blades to bring your body as close to his as he could.

While his tongue explored your mouth, he raises slightly on his knees and effortlessly finds your moist entrance with his tip savoring each tiny inch that envelopes his cock with aching warmth. He's unable to control the sigh that escapes his lips, lost in your mouth as he feels the wet muscles contract around him, pulling him in. The feeling is inexplicable, the intimacy of skin on skin making him feel heady and light, heart racing in his chest.

His brilliant blue eyes begin to darken at the edges, turning into a darker shade of midnight as he bottoms out, little noises of contentment resounding in your throat as you feel the hot velvet column of his cock fill you, feel the way it pulses as he occupies your pussy.

“Xav… You feel amazing,” you gasp as you pull away from his mouth, his hips coming to lay flush against yours as he thrusts into you, stroking your inner walls and teasing all the right spots inside you. He's hot and flushed, watching your face as it contorts in pleasure, his blush settling across his cheeks and nose like adorable pink freckles. You smile hazily as him and his head dips down to suckle as nipple, his tongue caressing the little bud, turning your moans into sighs of longing.

When his thumb starts to circle your clit you almost cry out from the pleasure of it all, every sensitive spot being hit at the same time with aching perfection. His breath mingles with yours, sweat forming on both your bodies as you rock against each other, creating delicious friction, matching the other rhythm for rhythm, strike against long stroke.

The edges of your vision blur as your climax grows nearer and Xavier’s jaw grows tight, a moan escaping his lips as he tries to hang on, determined not to climaxes before you. His thumb picks up its pace and with a shaky gasp, your orgasm hits, the sweetness of it making you sob as it grips you, feeling your core spasm, and with a final push of triumph, he allows himself to succumb to his own desires, cock twitching and spasming along with your pussy as he cums, coating your walls with his seed.

Tired, he collapses on top of you as gracefully as he can, your hands and soothingly rubbing over his back, kissing his hair, murmuring praise to him as he floats down from his high.

“Angel…you're so wonderful. The best.” his head is on your chest, listening to your heartbeat as he tries to grasp into reality. You can't help but laugh lightly. Xavier always gets pussy drunk and now without the condom it appeared to accelerate to an entirely fucked out state.

His eyes gleam like sapphires as his breathing returns to normal. “Well how am I supposed to be the guy making the condom run now after knowing what it feels like without one?”

You roll your eyes affectionately at him and flick his forehead.

Rafayel isn't unfamiliar with sex and intimate relationships but he doesn't often engage in them. He's quite shy and doesn't tell you what he's thinking. With patience and a little experimentation, Rafayel slowly came out of his shell and learned to feel comfortable enough with you to express his desires and wants. However, he's nervous about how you'll react to him admitting he's been wondering how it would be without a condom so he clams up.

His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are half lidded, whining as he rests between your legs, his back against your chest as you pump his erection with aching perfection.

“Feeling good baby?” You coo at him as he writhes under yourself ministrations at your mercy.

“Yeah… So close… Don't stop… “ he pants, hips desperately thrusting up to meet your strokes, feeling his thigh muscles quiver and his abs growing tighter with each passing second.

“Talk to me Raffy… how good am I making you feel?”

“So good…” His eyes, a lovely shade of lavender gray are starting to turn into smoke as his impending climax builds and rises. His cheeks are flushed and there's sweat on his forehead and chest from the exertion, the gentle crescendo of pleasure building to a steady peak.

He gazes up at you in a haze, those adorably plump lips parted as he gasps for air.

“You're so pretty when you pout you know?” you ask teasingly and as predicted his brow furrows, displeased at your amusement.

“Don't… say things like… that!” the color in his cheeks rises and your own control slips slightly as you lean down to give an admonishing nibble on his lower lip. The extra stimulation is enough to push him over the edge and with a groan he pulses, his cock warm and needy in your palm, spilling his cum into your hand.

Your clean hand plays with his pretty hair as you continue to pump him with care ensuring he rides out every drop of his orgasm, a few more more spurts of viscous fluid leaking from his tip before stopping.

Rafayel relaxes on your lap as you reach over to grab a tissue and wipe off your hand. His eyes linger on your messy hand, sticky with his arousal and he feels his cock twitch despite having just cum.

“I wonder what it would look like slipping out of your pussy instead of your hand,” he says in a quiet pondering voice that has you pausing, a wicked grin forming on your face.

“Raffy… Did you just say you wanted to fuck me without a condom?” You emphasize the word ‘fuck’ on purpose because of how flustered he gets when he hears it and sure enough, he pouts, a noise of embarrassment escaping his lips, rolling onto his side to hide his face.

You quickly discard the used tissue and lay down to face him, pulling his struggling hands away from his face which looks like a setting sun now, adorably flushed, eyes bright and averted.

“Raffy tell me what you want.” You reassuringly pull closer to him, nuzzling his warm neck.

His cheek rests on the top of your head and with a sigh he admits with a hint of bashfulness, “I fantasize about it sometimes. But we don't have to,” he adds quickly.

Your laughter is muffled by his neck as you lean back to look at him. “I think we've been together long enough to discuss doing it raw.” You look at him imploringly.

“Cmon baby. We can ditch the condom today. I kinda want to know what it feels like too.”

His smokey lavender roam over your face, still carrying hints of hesitation in them. “You're sure? You're not just doing this because I want to right?”

“Oh Raffy. There's never been a day where you've made me feel forced to do anything. I'm very sure.” You cup his face between both your hands and gaze at him lovingly.

He laughs awkwardly, smiling shyly and you feel his erection press against your thigh as the both of you draw in for a kiss, Rafayel pulls your knee over his hip, stroking your moist folds with his cock. You whine in pleasure as he holds his cockhead up to your clit and you slide along his length, both of you sighing passionately at the intimate touch. His engorged tip cups the base of your clit so perfectly and you feel your core clench in anticipation.

Rafayel drags his length between your folds one more time before sliding down to your needy hole, groaning as your wet heat circles his tip. You push down on him, feeling the heat of his member, enjoying the way he fills you so wonderfully, his head sitting snug against your gspot.

The thrusts were shallow in this position but it allows you to snuggle into his chest, look deeply into his eyes and kiss him at leisure, each stroke hitting that sweet spot inside you with aching precision. He toys with your clit , pinching and rolling it for your pleasure.

He's amazed at how good you feel, how tight you are around his length, how wet you really are. The condom almost dulled this sensation and it feels like he's woken from a dream and experiencing reality for the first time.

Your orgasm hits sharply, making you cry out and cling to him the combined fondling of your clit and gspot too much for handle. As it starts to settle down you moan in his ear.

“Baby… Give it to me. I want to know what your cum slipping out of my pussy feels like too. Please… Cum for me… Like how I came for you…”

Your voice is whiny and pleading and Rafayel's hips stutter as he reaches his peak, letting out noises of his pleasure into your ear as he cums, and you feel his hot seed fill your eager pussy. As the both of you catch your breath, kissing each other in the afterglow, everything feels right.

Rafayel's erection softens and as it happens you feel the unmistakable feeling of your combined cum sliding out of your pussy, pooling at the crevice of your thigh.

“That's so hot,” you murmur and from Rafayel's expression he's thinking the same thing. He gathers a little bit of your mixed fluids on his finger, fascinatedly tasting it, his eyes intoxicated at the flavor.

“See what happens when you tell me what you want?” you strokes his arm. He nods then gets close to your ear.

“I don't think I want to use a condom ever again.”

Sylus is that guy who loves going in raw but only if he's sure you're into him. And despite the talk of him being the ruthless leader of Onychinus, he's a true gentleman and would never bring the topic of having unprotected sex unless you initiate it. He prides himself on being someone you look to for security amidst the chaos in the N109 zone.

His fingers are knuckle deep into your pussy, wet squelching noises filling the air as his long fingers expertly tease that bundle of nerves inside you while his thumb rubs circles on your clit drawing out a moan of longing from you, your walls clenching around his thick fingers.

“That's it good girl… Give it to me,” his deep voice rumbles in approval as you writhe desperately on his fingers feeling your body tense in anticipation at what was to come.

His lips hover over your collarbone nibbling leisurely and you roll your hips, moaning as your climax washes over you, pussy spasming from the gratification.

He licks his fingers clean, savoring the tang of your arousal before pulling you in for a deep kiss, pulling you snugly against his chest, and pressing kisses to your hair. You taste the musky flavor of your orgasm, transferred from his tongue to yours.

Your hands are already busy with his cock, tickling his thighs and cupping his balls drawing a chuckle from him.

“Easy kitten. We have all night.” His tongue slips between your lips again and gives you a sloppy kiss, a noise of delight leaving you as you stroke the hot velvet of his cock.

“Sylus?” you stroke him in a steady rhythm that has him humming, the noise sounding like a cat purring, his abs contracting in response to your touch.

“Yes doll?” he licks and nibbles down the side of your neck making you shiver. His crimson eyes fixate on you as you hesitate to speak.

“What is it? You know I'll do anything for you right?” He grasps your chin firmly and makes eye contact, feeling flattered when you blush, your nipples perked from your recent orgasm, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, looking divine.

“I was thinking…”

“Yes?”

“Um… How would you feel if… we didn't… Useprotection?” the last few words are said in a rush, and your cheeks grow hot as you make your request. It's not normal for you to feel so shy, after all Sylus was incredibly open to experimentation and exploring kinks with you. But there was something so personal about asking this of him, letting a part of him sit within you so intimately and the vulnerability made you feel exposed.

Sylus rises a contemplative eyebrow, his lips curling into an indulgent smile as he sees how flustered you're getting.

“The kitten has gotten bold,” he says approvingly. “You wish to have all of me? Feel my cock in all it's exposed glory inside your wet little cunt?”

The crudeness of his words sends a rush of arousal straight into your already dripping core. Heat fills your cheeks and you slap his shoulder.

“Don't say it like that!”

“isn't it the truth though?” Sylus rolls you on top of him as he lays back against the pillows, enjoying the view of your soft body. “Don't you want to feel every inch of my veiny cock fill you, rub your sensitive walls and fuck you senseless? All the while your tight little pussy keeps getting wetter for me and you can't do anything except helplessly moan and let me stuff you with my seed?”

His ruby eyes glitter sinfully as he watches you squirm under his gaze. How cute. His fingers idly stroke your sides, your hands full of his cock but momentarily frozen from his teasing.

“Don't feel like you have to stop on account of me sweetie,” he prompts, then can't stop himself from laughing as you hasten to continue with your strokes. “You fluster so easily.”

“Anyone would if spoken to that way!”

“Oh no sweetie. I doubt anyone else would have such an adorable reaction. Why can't you just admit that you want me in you, no barriers, just raw and primal like animals?”

Your nails scratch over his abs, feeling them quiver. “If you don't want to just say so.”

“Don't be that way.” His red eyes narrow, hands tightening around your waist. “You know I want to.” His large hands cup your breasts and squeeze.

“Then why do you keep laughing like it's funny?” you whine as he twists your nipples, and grind his upper thigh.

Sylus's eyes soften slightly before he leans up to kiss a nipple and pull it softly with his lips. “Mhm… Sy…” your nails scratch his scalp as you cradle his head.

He lets go and blows a puff of air over the hardened peak, causing it to perk up more before circling it with his thumb. “I adore you doll. It’s not that I find it funny. I'm very flattered that you want me that way. But if I let my desire for you consume me, you may find yourself pushed to a limit.”

He traces a finger from between your breasts down to your navel. “You may find me… being rough. More than you're used to. Because kitten…” he leans up with you balanced on his body and with a soft tickle of hot breath on your ear that has you jerking slightly in surprise, he says in a feral whisper, “the thought of burying myself in your cunt with no condom on, feeling how you clench and get turned on for me makes me want to eat you alive.”

Blood rushes to your face and Sylus watches with satisfaction. He caresses your cheek. “Ride me kitten.”

His eyes darken as you glance at him under lowered lashes. You crawl over his body on your hands and knees hovering your slick core over his hard length. He sucks in a breath as you lower your hips, teasingly brushing his tip against your wet hole, the sensation of so inviting it takes all his willpower not to slam into you mercilessly. He knew he wouldn't be able to control himself if he was on top, wouldn't be able to stop himself from taking. Putting you in control was the wise choice here.

“Fuck kitten,” he growls, his fingers digging into your hips. “You feel so good. So wet for me.”

Sylus's cock stretches you deliciously as you take him in, feeling his veins and heat pulsate achingly inside you. You whine as you fit him in, you whine each time because he's just so big, and it takes a while to adjust and take him. It never fails to make him smirk but today he's watching intently wondering how he's supposed to last with your pussy gripping him like a glove and enveloping him with your needy heat.

When you finally bottom out, both of you take a collective breath and feeling so full, feeling how he fits inside you. Resting your palms on his chest you start to move, lifting your body up feeling him stroke your inner walls and start to ride him.

You start slow, setting a pace that has him groaning, holding your hips so tightly it hurt but you continue, angling your body until you feel his engorged head brush your gspot. His teeth are gritted as he slips a finger between your legs and finds your hardened clit, stroking it to match your movements.

The texture of his cock has you moaning, his gentle movements on your clit pushing you closer to him edge. Sylus lets out a hiss of air, trying not to disturb your pace but his will is being ripped to shreds.

You were so warm. So tight and wet. And claiming you without a condom in his opinion only solidified further that you were his. Marked, claimed, and rightfully his in the most biblical sense.

Your pace picks up as you ride him, needing more friction pathetic noises leaving your throat as you chase your orgasm. Your thighs quiver and burn from the effort but you're so close that you push through the pain, gasping as Sylus firmly presses into the little bud.

“You're so cute like this, struggling on my cock. Let go for me sweetie… Make a mess all over me.”

His words are a sinful request mingling with the sounds of slapping skin and lewd noises of need. With a loud breath of desire, you cum all over him, eyes squeezing shut at the pleasurable spasms that rock your body.

It's too much for Sylus to handle, and taking advantage of your momentary lack of movements, he thrusts upwards into you, fucking you through your orgasm desperate to cum with you.

The absence of the condom aids him and with a loud bark he feels his balls tightening and his orgasm hits him like a train, holding you tightly as pleasure flows through him, his seed filling into your needy pussy.

Fuck he was addicted. He rolls you onto the bed and holds you close to him.

“You're going to be the death of me kitten.”

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nochepsicodelica · 16 days ago

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The door to your shared bedroom creaks open, and Toji is greeted by the sight of you sleeping. It's five in the afternoon and you're bundled up in the covers, soft breaths exiting through your mouth because your nose is congested. You look all cozy, like a hibernating bear, on his side of the bed. It would be a more adorable sight under different circumstances, but this is the product of you catching a cold.

Toji sets the small bag filled with your medicine and other little things he hopes will make you feel better, on his nightstand. He crouches down in front of you and brings a noticeably cooler hand to your heated cheek.

"Hey," Toji calls, gently pinching your cheek. Your hearing must be muffled, because you don't budge and remain in your deep sleep. "Ma," he tries again, shaking you by your shoulder this time. You stir and attempt to roll over in the other direction, towards the center of the bed, but Toji keeps you steady by tugging on the blanket you're cocooned in. "Wake up, mama. Just for a little. I got your stuff. Medicine, snacks— you probably won't be able to taste them, but they're there."

You open your eyes, and simply blink. The room is darker and more shadowy since you went down for your supposed nap. It's been hours, but your body still feels so tired and your head is pulsing.

"How are you feeling?" Toji asks.

You were trying to say "so so", but no sound came out, so it seemed like you were mouthing the words instead. You felt the effort your vocal cords made, but your voice was shot. Nothing is audible unless it's strained. A huff and a roll of your eyes let Toji know how bad of a time you were having.

"Gotcha," Toji responds to your attempt to speak, a soft smile on his face.

He stands up from his crouched position and turns to the bag on his nightstand, rummaging through it to grab the box of medicine at the bottom and your water bottle. He sees you untangling yourself from the covers and sitting up to rest against the headboard, in his peripheral vision. Your hair is messy, some of it is stuck to your forehead from how much you've been sweating, even though you've felt cold the whole time. You can't breathe properly out of your nose, and your throat is sore. Your entire demeanor just screams "sick".

Toji offers you two gel capsules and twists the cap off your bottle of water, before handing it to you as well. You toss the pills into your mouth, and wash them down with a swig of water. In an attempt to clear your nose, you sniff a few times, getting absolutely no change in your ability to breathe through your nose.

"Go back to sleep. I'll get you some soup for when you wake up, 'kay?"

You nod and set your water bottle down on Toji's nightstand, before you slide back down the bed and shift comfortably onto your side. The blanket is wrapped around you, again, and you're ready to shut your eyes. Toji comes closer, crouching down like he did when he woke you up.

"Mm-mm," you hum, the sound cracked and barely audible, a response to Toji leaning in and trying to kiss you.

"Come on, ma. It's been a whole day. Just one. A peck?"

"No," you whisper, only able to communicate verbally in this hushed voice.

"Oh. You want me to have two?" He says, with a playful smirk.

You give him a deadpan expression and shift in the blanket, bringing it up to cover your mouth.

"Okay, fine. Just one."

You shake your head, minimally. Just enough so that you don't shake your brain and make your head hurt even more, and he still gets the message.

"Be nice, mama. Just one, then i'll leave you alone--" he pauses, briefly, "--until I come back with your soup. Then you gotta give me another one. You know, Toji Tax."

You roll your eyes and huff. The Toji Tax is just Toji's way of getting extra loving from you. There's a Toji Tax on just about everything he does for you, so you're not surprised that your sickness doesn't exempt you from it.

Your reaction showed the signs that let Toji know that he's about to get what he wants. The barrier you raised over your mouth is lowered, your involuntary pout now on full display, ready to be kissed whenever Toji's ready.

"Don't look too excited," Toji jests. He chuckles at the gloomy expression on your face. You look absolutely miserable in this state. It's adorable, and while he would love to keep teasing you, he decides to move faster so that you can get your rest.

It starts with a peck—as promised. He's slow with separating his lips from yours, to keep the contact with you going for as long as possible. Then he goes in for another one—just as gentle and delayed in separation. You still haven't done anything to stop him, so he keeps going in for more and more, each kiss more fervent than the last. Within seconds, he's barraging you with quick kisses, back to back, as if to make up for the last twenty-four hours he went without feeling your soft lips against his. He's getting closer, almost climbing into bed with you, so you hum and turn your head. He starts following your movement, like an eager puppy, chasing after more of your kisses.

"Don't care if I get sick, ma."

You hum in disapproval and push his face away when he starts leaning in, again. Quickly, you cover your head with the blanket and roll to the other side of the bed.

Toji sighs, a mischievous smirk lingering on his face. He got way more than he expected, but when it comes to you, he can never have enough. He stands up from the awkward position he got himself into while he chased after your lips, and looks at your bundled up figure, now out of his reach.

"I'll be back, doll. Gonna go get your soup, but remember... Toji Tax."

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stxneflxwers · 2 months ago

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pain reliever.

⋯⁂ summary. migraines. migraines never end.

⋯⁂ a/n. oh my god im so sick of being in pain someone just make it end-

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader in physical pain (migraines, light sensitive eyes). comfort. all lowercase. aventurine is now designated weighted blankie.

"another migraine, huh?"

aventurine chimes in, his voice soft as a feather – without its typical sassy and teasing edge, too. he stands behind you as you rest on the sofa in his penthouse, your sluggish body flush against the puffy back cushions. his hands rest on the tops of the cushions, caging either side of your head as he stares down at you, your head tilted back to look up at him.

of course, the seating is about as lavish and comfortable as it comes – you wouldn't expect anything less from your eccentric boyfriend.

"yup." you don't even nod, and your words are barely louder than a pained whisper.

"you poor thing," he coos, "here. take it." he offers his rose-tinted sunglasses to you, to help subdue some of the bright lighting coming from the ceiling.

you stare for a long, hard (and painful) moment at the sunglasses offered to you. without another moment thinking about if the rose-tinted lens will actually help with negating some pain, you take the accessory by its temples and slide them on. you then look up at him through the rosy glass, your eyes half-lidded and your expression droopy.

"adorable." he grins, a genuine one he reserves for you – only for you. "now, how about i look for some meds, huh? i bought some recently for times like these." he reaches out a gloved hand, intending on gently petting your head, but ends up holding himself back. his hand awkwardly hovers above your face before it rests back down on the sofa back.

"...you did that? for me?" you blink, eyes widening momentarily with knitted brows.

"i sure did. i can't have my favorite person being in debilitating pain every time i see them, yeah? it's no fun that way." he chuckles breathily before leaning down to press a chaste, feather-light kiss to your exposed forehead.

"i wouldn't call it debilitating, per se..." you drawl, but smile from his tender ministrations.

"well, we'll have to agree to disagree, then," he shakes his head. "i'll be right back. you try to rest some." he walks away, dimming the lights in the living room as he leaves to look for the medication he mentioned.

"thank you, vasha..." you mumble, watching him walk away – his stride holds significantly less bravado to it when it's just the two of you. it's...relaxed.

when he returns with two pills and a cup of cool water in hand, he finds you laying down on the sofa – curled up in a tight, little ball of..., well, pain. he hates seeing you in pain, much less so this frequently. but he masks his concern just enough to not make you worry about him being worried. it's almost ironic.

"hey," he whispers, voice even softer than earlier, "c'mon, time to take your meds~." he teases a little as he bends over enough to meet your scrunched up face, hoping to lighten your mood.

"alright, alright..." you grumble, "thank you, nurse." you tiredly grin at him before pulling yourself up into a seated but slouched position.

"aww, i bet you'd like to see me all dressed up like a cute little nurse, huh?" he jokes while handing you the pills and cup.

"...i will neither confirm nor deny that allegation." you scoff playfully, and then you take the medication as instructed – of course, you down all the water too. or else a certain gambler will get on your case.

"pfft, figures." he snickers, taking a seat beside you on the sofa, slinging an arm on the top of the back cushions.

after setting the empty cup down on the accessory table next to the armrest, you glance at him with weary eyes. but to him, it looks like you're about to beg for something–

"be my blanket."

perhaps "beg" was a poor word choice. that sounded far more like a demand.

"...your blanket...?" he blinks on repeat, looking somewhat bewildered.

"yes. lay on top of me." you blink back, but your expression lacks any sort of discernible emotion. "it's...comforting."

"well," he starts with an awkward, stiff chuckle, "if you insist. i'll gladly be your blanket, then." he smiles and shakes his head.

you lay on your back, opening your arms to him before he settles on top of you – he's the best height and weight to be a nice, warm weighted blanket. he rests his head on your chest as his body sits between your legs. you sigh in contentment, and you swear this is what real perfection feels like.

warm, safe, quiet.

#🌠— my works #💕— aventurine #aventurine fluff #aventurine x reader #🌠— fluff #🌠— hurt/comfort #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader

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anantaru · 11 months ago

Note

Xiao and aphrodisiacs ? 🙏🙏

cw. aphrodisiacs, dubcon?? (just in case), fem! reader

"xiao... i can feel it work," you slowly let fall from your tongue, fluttering your lashes up to meet the eyes that hover above you, your naked skin smoldering hot as xiao rests his weight on top of you.

your body feels dense above the mattress— and the leaden quivering of your chest fights to match that of your fastened pants, your thighs wet of your slick as you clench and throb around xiao's waist when he keeps you pinned on the bed with his bare strength.

he doesn't believe he will manage to keep himself restraint when he sees you struggle at the way your body was feeling unnaturally hot with your core ablaze, your warm pussy quivering at each round rub against your sensitive folds.

xiao's eyes slowly trace over the soft expression on your face, "i love when you enjoy yourself," he admits as his fingers collect your arousal to smear them across your thudding flesh.

archons, you want him inside of you so badly, you're certain that his fingers surely wouldn't be enough, despite the fact that everything felt a whole lot more intense tonight, your bottom lip quivering at how dirty it felt to be so exposed and oozing of your arousal. ��

his body was flush against yours, and yours with his as you want to feel xiao, until your thighs are practically glistening of him, you need him to engrave strong pleasure into your walls and stretch you into his shape before you can rest easy for tonight.

"how long do you think you can last..." xiao breathes while continuing to work his hand on you, "i can feel how you're falling to pieces," he continues, "and i don't want to hurt you," as he breathes hot against your ear before inserting one slender finger into your tight hole.

"no.." you feverishly shake your head, "please— just don't stop," and your words breathe against his skin as you unravel, your honeyed sounds awakening goosebumps on his roughened body.

his lips part when your walls mould to his shape instantly, and after the little pill you took, he finds out that you're extremely reactive tonight, not to mention so sensitive that it drives him insane when he leisurely pumps a finger in and out to test the waters on how much you could take in your current state.

you jolt with a quiet squeal when he nibbles along your jawline— and an interesting, not to mention sexy fact about xiao was that he needs to know if he was doing well and if you're enjoying it— in his mind, there was one element about seeing your pleasure overflow beneath him to the point where you're causing his thighs to tremor as you open yourself up for him.

yet, there's another crucial component when he focuses his sharp senses on your heartbeat, especially on the way your breathing would slowly change and turn quicker, or how impossibly wet you had gotten from a mere finger as he further imprints his trace on your sensitive skin.

"this is u-unfair," you babble out, twisting your brows and sliding one hand down to the obvious tent in his boxers, his thick bulge repeatedly grinding against your thigh to release some steam, "i do-don't think it worked on you," you sigh out defeatedly, stroking his bulge as xiao adds a finger, thrusting his digits through the sticky mess on your cunt.

"do you want me to stop?" xiao asks kindly, nuzzling his nose across your neck to take in your stirring scent.

"no.. no," your palm gently works up his cock as your legs spread wider for him, pushing your hips up to welcome his fingers as xiao lovingly smiles against you, "so hot— you're so hot down there," he says, pumping with adrenaline, xiao just needs to make you feel good, that is all he wants, to make you feel so fucking good.

you throw your head back in ecstasy when he changes the tempo of two fingers and pistols his digits quickly back and forth, pushing between your hole with the squelching noises setting your cheeks aflame, your chest rapidly rising and falling as you practically melt under his tender caress.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #xiao x reader #xiao smut #xiao x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #tw aphrodisiacs #cw aphrodisiacs #tw dubcon #cw dubcon

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bi-writes · 1 month ago

Note

Do you think Simon would get a vasectomy in the MOB universe?👀 I remember you mentioning that the two of them wouldn’t have children and I feel like Simon wouldn’t want his life on the pill because of all the side effects, so he would offer to get the old snip snip

100%. (fyi, birth control itself is not just used for preventing pregnancy, it is a necessary medication that actually has helped people in many other ways -- this point of view is simon thinking about birth control simply in the context of maintaining a childless marriage)

simon thought about it. thought about how it might go, what he could do to make the decision you had made together a concrete one.

simon read the list of side effects for just one birth control pill and made his mind up then and there. the hormonal effects. the acne. the pain. the cycle changes. the weight gain, the weight loss, the feelings that couldn't really be explained because they hadn't been researched enough.

simon is horrified by what he finds. it makes his stomach hurt thinking about putting you on one of these. his chest aches. having you take it every day, the stress of missing one of them, the added burden of the many different effects it could have on you, including blood clots and other terrible outcomes from one single little piece of medication.

simon would never ask you to do this for him; and if you offered, he knows already that he would say no. it wouldn't be fair--to subject his wife to something like this. she already would be the losing party in the event that something would happen. if he got her pregnant, his wife would be the one to endure every outcome. every decision, every happenstance, every scenario, it is his wife that would be at the receiving end of it all, even if he was the cause of it.

simon can't have that. he refuses. he won't let that happen.

he slides a pamphlet into your hands when he comes home one afternoon. he's looking at you with an easy smile as you read the cover of it, and you flip it open as you read some of the information inside.

safe. easy. minimal pain. quick. effective.

you blink, looking up at him, and he reaches over with a warm hand, smoothing his knuckles down your cheek.

"really?" you ask, and he shrugs.

"no big deal, swee'eart," he murmurs, and you take his hand in yours, squeezing it gently. because it isn't a big deal. because he loves you more than anything in the entire world. because you deserve nothing less. because he would endure anything if it meant nothing about you would change, if you could remain as you are, happy, loved, relaxed.

the decision is easy, and this will be, too.

#ask #ask b #🐝's anons #order up

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justcallmesakira · 6 months ago

Text

"𝑰𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒚 𝒃𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒌?"

summary: just my favourite characters taking care of reader when shes sick

genre: hurt to comfort, full fluff

warnings: reader has a personality similar to me!, fem reader, nothing else, double suicide joke on dazai

a/n: guys please I am so sick right now I feel sohdghdgdhd if only there was someone who could send me some sakilai selfship stuff/j

"nikolaiiiii" you whine from your bed eyes too teary to reach out wherever he is.

"Ah, my dove, I am coming right now" he shouts from outside of your room running in with a packed box of soup.

Unfortunately because of nikolais amazing cooking skills he failed to make a simple cup of soup. So he decided to order from takeout.And that soup is the food you need to eat right now.

"feed me please..." you state when he placed the bowl of soup and sat down next to you."Dove i think you can feed yous-" you only sniffed and looked at him with teary eyes which instantly made a certain feeling of guilt rise up in his stomach.

"fine then. Guess I will have to take care of my lovely crybaby girlfriend!" nikolai jokes before using taking off his gloves using his teeth and putting them aside, which you always considered a very handsome and hot thing for him to do.

His bare hands pick up the spoon full of soup and vegetables and gently slides it into you mouth, as fragile like a glass doll.

"Also I am not a crybaby! It was an act for you to feed me" you puff to which gogol gasps a bit too dramatically "you pesky silly! Come here daddy's going to punish you kittem" he jokingly says putting the bowl of soup on the bed side.

"HELP nikolai that is not funny! Stop THAT IS NOT FUNNY AT ALL. I am sick!!" you cry out getting out of his way which fails as he lunges towards you and holds you in his grasp

"I was joking! Calm down (name) I just want to hug your germs away." "Those germs will hug you back but okay!"

You sneakily crept up to the fridge before opening it, looking for a tub of icecream before finding it instantly. You reach out to grab it but before your hand can get any closer a hand slams the door shut.

You don't turn around to the figure behind you and swallow a spit, scared of the man's creepy and menacing smile from behind you.

"Now now, isn't my dear supposed to be in bed resting? So I wonder who this woman here is" his sarcastic voice rings in your ears as you slowly turn around.

"Fedya hahaha what are you doing here ahaha aren't you supposed to work?" you nervosuly laugh before you start coughing again, more ferocious this time.

His cruel and irritated shade hovering his eyes become more soft and tendor as he picked you up over his shoulders like a pack of potatoes and carried you to the bedroom.

"Fyodor? Since when did you become s-augh augh strong-?" you asked clearly shocked at his sudden romantic move.

"Say that again I am giving you medieval style treatment." "WH- wait how do you know medieval tre--"

Before you could finish your sentence, he throws you on the bed in the gentlest way before sitting down next to you and grabbing a medicine.

"please tell me it's not those swallow pills. I hate them like you everyone in Yokohama hates you" you pout but he only glares at you for a second.

"I mean- I love you hahaha, you know" you laugh it off and look at his nail bitten fingers elegantly take the spoon of the liquid and holds it up to you lips.

"ew that looks like pink vomit" you get away from the spoon infront of you. "(name) I didn't ditch my work for this, it feels like I am taking care of a child rather then my significant other."

"wellll you still counted me as your significant other so" you tease him, trying to make him forget about the medicine.

"(name)" his voice is colder than your cold and you only look at him with puppy glistening eyes. "can.. can you feed me with your mouth? a sickly kiss?" you ask innocently.

"you are already sick fedya, please?" he only sighs at your statement, knowing it's stupid and silly to argue with you.

He takes the medicine in his mouth and pulls you closer to push it in. It tastes bitter, but his lips make it sweet. It only lasts a moment but cures that starving feeling in your heart.

He pulls away as you swallow the liquid before tucking your self under the covers and start giggling like a school girl.

"sigh,,,please don't eat anything cold, your sickness will only worsen. Take your pills daily and I will send some chocolates later, okay? Don't be too much of a hassle"

"Bellllaaaaaa, i got you your favourite food!" his voice soothes out like a lullaby to your ears as you rise up from your bed and rush towards him.

"zai-zai!" But before you could say anything your head starts spinning and everything seems dizzy.

He keeps the bag of food on the table before rushing to catch you. "WOAH bella, can't have you spinning to death now can we! You told me if you had to die you wanted to die with me! Together"

He says picking you up bridal style and laughing at the swirls in your eyes. "i am here feeling like I just hot down from some Rollercoaster and your here joking? I swear to god dazai this is why you can't pull hoes"

"why would you say that bella? You pull germs" he pouts like a child but was probably smirking inside at his cheeky remark.

"You little manwh-" "shhh lets eat soem chocolate cheesecake shall we?" he places you on the side of your bed and brings the packets of cakes and slowly lays it down infront of you.

You sick and tired looking eyes glow up. "I want the cheesecake!" you announce to him as dazai laughs before opening the packet and taking a spoonful of the desert before motioning you to open your mouth.

He feeds you it whole slowly, which you only giggle "i didnt new yuo weer so living, dezai" you mumble chewing on the contents.

"finish your food first bella, then you can compliment your amazing BOYFRIEND HAHAHA" he laughs before getting up to clear up the packets.

While he does that you snuggle up to your bed before coughing for a while. "come join me, love" you motion him which your boyfriend does as he lays himself next to you

"Oh my bella, I hope you get well soon I can't wait to kiss you and hug you and maybe even fall off the bridge with you!"

You moved away from the camera turning on the record button and started dancing to the choreography of 'detention' by melanie martinez which by the way you should actually check out.

However as you were swifting your movements according to the dance you heard a Click and ran to you bed, but you only had a second to choose a sleep position before yosano can come.

"(name) I am not that stupid." she opens the door to enter the room as she looks at your pretend sleeping position.

"You can just dance hystericaly while you have a bad cold and have iron cells lesser than than the literacy rate in japan" your girlfriends scolding hits you hard so you decided to get up, what's the point.

"As much as i wish i could see more of you dancing" she continues, "You need to get better for it, I dont want you fainting once again like yesterday.

"who knew you could joke" you whine out. Yosano takes a chair and takes a place beside you. "I am not that serious, love. Now let me check your fever."

She takes off her gloves and presses her hand on your forehead. "Hmm, you have long way to fully recover" her voice is much softer than when she was scolding you.

"huhhh, that's not fair...i dont want to be bedridden for soooo long :(" your eyes start looking teary again, nose red from the heavy coughing from when she was taking care of you last night.

she sighs, "awhh my baby, there there. This is why I told you to take the medicines. But you didn't listen did you" you look up to her eyes glossy like a child who needs to be cared.

She kisses your forehead before getting up.

"I wish I could kiss your cold away however it won't work like that instead I will cook you your favourite chicken soup for you okay?"

a/n: man i hate my hoarse throat aughhhh I want fedya to take care of me rn *cough cough*

Divider crds: @anitalenia go check her blog NOW

Tags: @little-miss-chaoss @terururuko @inojuuy @biscuits-tragic-diner

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schrodingers-romy · 1 month ago

Text

Cat-Eye [Shidou Ryusei x Reader]

Pairing: Shidou Ryusei x GN!Reader Word Count: ~900 [Ao3 Link]

Summary: Ryusei's behavior reminds you of something...

Warnings: gender neutral reader, some suggestiveness at the end, uh petplay mentions i guess, idk man

Notes: Short little thing inspired by how his eyes dilated from slits in the anime. My violent weird little meow meow <3

Ryusei's eyes were striking.

They were drowned out somewhat by the general vibrancy of his person, but they were by no means subtle. Neon pink that glowed when he got excited, with slitted pupils like a cat's; you understood why people called him a 'demon,' because it didn't seem right for a mere mortal to look so unique.

Now, those slit pupils are gone, completely blown so that there was only a thin ring of pink around them. He’s staring at you intently, only breaking his gaze for the occasional slow blink of his thick blond lashes.

You sigh, closing your book. "What is it?"

"What's what?"

"You're staring at me. And your eyes look weird. It's a little freaky." You lean towards him, trying to get a better look. Ryusei doesn’t so much as flinch at your abrupt movement, instead tilting his head closer so your noses touched. "Your pupils are huge. Are you on drugs?"

"Drugged on you, baby~"

You shove him away with a palm to his mouth, grimacing a bit as he licks your hand. Your attempt to silence him only encourages him. "You're like an aphrodisiac to me, sweetheart!" He sang. “Your pheromones are—”

For your own sanity, you cut him off by tackling him to the ground. After a few minutes of half-hearted wrestling, he pins you to the ground with ease, lying flopped on top of your body like the world’s horniest weighted blanket. Ryusei’s dopy grin and black-eclipsed eyes haven’t changed, only now they’re accompanied by a flush of rose brushed across his cheekbones.

You let out a deep sigh, expelling all the air in your body like a deflating balloon and letting your head gently thunk onto the floor. One of your hands comes up to stroke over his hair, petting over the spikes in a way that makes him purr. In turn, he grasps your waist, squeezing, intermittently tightening and loosening his grip like you were his stress toy.

The two of you lay there, in peace for a moment, soaking up the physical touch. You were not nearly as touchy as your boyfriend was, but you had acclimated to his particular form of affection well. So well, in fact, you began to automatically seek it out on your own and feel antsy when you couldn’t get your daily dose of contact. (Not that it happened often…if touch and affection was what you wanted, Ryusei spoiled you rotten with it.)

The thought causes you to smile a little, unconsciously. As bombastic as your boyfriend was, he really was sweet to you. And the way he snuggled up to you reminded you a bit of a fluffy pet.

Wait.

You sit up abruptly. Ryusei groans as his head slides down from your chest, until his chin is resting on your stomach. He looks up at you, eyebrows furrowed and lips beginning to form a pout. Before he can say anything, you grab his face with two hands, squashing his cheeks between your palms.

“You’re just a cat, aren’t you?” you say seriously.

He blinks up at you, nonplussed.

“You like pets. You basically purr when I give you attention. You do the little tongue bleps. And the whole dilated eyes and slow blinks is how cats show they like you.” You pause. “At least, I think. Also, you try to get my attention by knocking things over sometimes. That’s cat behavior.”

Ryusei gapes at you for a moment, before he starts to cackle. Full-body, deep laughs, so strong he pulls away from your lap and into a pill bug position as he wheezes.

“Whatever,” you huff. Before you can get up and walk away, you’re snatched up by strong arms and pulled into an embrace.

“I dunno, I’m just being me,” he says, muffling his voice in the crook of your neck as you halfheartedly try to squirm away from him. “But I can be your cat if you want~”

You shudder a bit at the suggestive edge to his words. You should be desensitized to his particular lecherous method of flirting by now, but his arms were strong, and his chest was warm, and his voice was deep…and you were weak for him.

“Could I put you in cat ears, then?” you ask, playing along. “A collar? A leash? It might help keep you in check.” You run a finger down the smooth line of his neck, ghosting over his Adam’s apple as it bobs with his audible swallow.

“Mmmm…sounds kinky, babe, I’m in~” He starts to mouth kisses along your throat. You tilt your head to give him more access, eyes flickering shut. “You could be my owner, hehe…or you could be my little mouse…my cute little snack—” At this, he opens his mouth wide, and bites down on the nape of your neck.

You let out a squeak. The heat from his mouth and from the residual throb of the bitemark melts down the line of your spine deliciously.

He cackles. “Such an adorable mouse sound! You play the part so well.”

You use the split-second of his loosened grip to break free and flip your position, straddling him. “Bad kitty,” you scold, winding your fingers through his hair and pulling.

Ryusei lets out a lewd noise, arching his back just a little into the pain. “Oh~” he lets out a shaky breath. “Gonna punish me, hm?”

He’s staring up at you, grinning. He’s all sharp teeth (just waiting to sink into your skin again), dark, dark eyes, messy hair, and arousal-flushed cheeks. You don’t know whether you want to eat him, or if you want him to eat you.

“Maybe…or maybe I’ll give you a treat, if you’re good for me,” you purr.

“No promises~” You give another tug to his hair, before leaning in to shut him up with a proper kiss.

#shidou x reader #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #ryusei shidou x reader #ryuusei shidou x reader #shidou ryusei #shidou ryuusei #ryusei shidou #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #shidou fluff #reader insert #gender neutral reader #romy can write

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oneforthemunny · 8 months ago

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take as needed |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: a hectic week at the hideout has you burnt out, fed up, and on the path of destruction. eddie is in your path, and tries to course correct.

contains: minors dni. smut. dom!eddie x sub!reader tones this time. soft!dom!eddie. emotional release spanking. masturbation male. angst, fighting, they're kinda mean to each other but ends in fluff. based off this blurb from a while ago.

"Behind you." Veronica held the beers over you, shimmying through the crowded back area towards her customers at the end of the bar.

It was way too busy for The Hideout- for Hawkins. College was out for the summertime, all the college kids that fled as fast as they could after graduation were dragged back for the summer. Most of them would rather be at some stuffy bar that with their families, and you couldn't blame them, so they found there way here. On a Friday night, slammed and the karaoke machine in full effect from nine til midnight. Thankfully, you got off at ten, only an hour of enduring the screeching off note wails of the drunken patrons.

"Great song choice, man. Super metal." You looked up to see Eddie, all black even in the summer heat, sliding behind the bar, fist bumping the drunk kid who'd belted Welcome to the Jungle complete with the filthy moans into the mic. It had made everyone laugh, hoot and yell out encouragements at him. Everyone but you, it just irritated you.

"Hey there, pretty girl." Eddie muttered, grabbing your waist while he slid past you. "When you get a chance, can you make me a drink, please?"

"I'm super busy right now, Ed." You huffed, fishing a pen out of your back pocket, setting it on the bar for the drunk sorority girl to sign.

"I know, baby," Eddie cooed, ringed hands rubbing down you arms gently. You knew the act was to soothe you, calm you down, but it did nothing to relax you, only pissing you off further. "Whenever you get a chance. 'm on my break. You need any help? Wha'dya need me to do? How can I help?"

"No." You grit, shoving the ice scoop into the clumped, melting ice with a rather hard shove. "Can you just get out from behind here? It's crowded enough, Ed. 'M boiling and you're in my way."

"Easy, ease up." Eddie frowned at you. "Just trying to see if you need any help."

"I'm fine." You slammed the glass down on the counter, Veronica's eyes cutting over towards you carefully. You'd been on edge all night, frustrated and annoyed from the moment you walked in, such a contrast to your usual very sweet and bubbly demeanor. The customers seemed to notice too, seeing as your tips were practically cut in half, even on a busy night.

You tilted the bottle up, not even bother to properly measure the amount of vodka you were dousing into the drink. Veronica raised her brows at Eddie, shaking her head gently. You pressed the lemonade tap before turning to him. "I'll make your drink if I have time."

"I got it." Veronica offered, pulling two glasses out. "What do you want, Ed-"

"-I can make it, Veronica." You sneered, jamming a straw in the drink and adding it to the tab. "Just gimme a goddam second."

"Hey," Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. "What's gotten into you? Take a fucking chill pill and relax."

"I am relaxed." You sneered, slamming the drink on the counter in front of the wide eyed girl. "You are pissing me off."

"Hey, the both of you," Ellen huffed from her place behind you. "Why don't you both go on your fifteen." She suggested. "Cool off, alright?"

Eddie didn't give you a chance to protest, wrapping his arm around your bicep lightly, dragging you back towards the kitchen. You grumbled the whole way, whining about your tips, scuffing your feet along the sticky tile, until Eddie pushed the back door open.

"...and fucking Veronica has been taking all the regulars tonight, and I get all these young fucks who don't tip. Fucking bitch, like, she knows that's not fair-"

"-What is your problem tonight?" Eddie frowned.

You blinked, a scoff leaving your lips. "Me? What's my problem? Are you- are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah. You're being mean tonight. What's going on?" Eddie's jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.

"Oh, fuck you, Eddie. I am not being fucking mean, you're such a-"

"Hey," His ringed hand caught your jaw easily, light but firm. "Enough of whatever you're pissed about, alright? You gotta get yourself together. You're being mean to everyone. Not a good look. Killing the vibe, babe."

Your lips pursed, shoving him off of you. "You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" You sneered, reaching for the handle of the door. "I'm killing the vibe- fuck you! I'll kill the vibe if I want to."

Eddie's hand smacked onto the door, shutting it before you opened it completely. "What has got you acting like this?" Eddie demanded. You shoved him again, reaching for the handle. "Hey, stop it. I'm being serious, alright? Did someone mess with you? You're supposed to tell me or Ellen. I'll take care of them you know I will. Won't let them mess with you. Just- Can you tell me what's going on with you. Why are you being so mean tonight?"

"You're so fucking annoying." You huffed. "Nothing it wrong with me. You're just pissing me off."

"Yeah? Well, you're pissin' me off, too." Eddie snapped. You faltered at his biting tone. "Pissing me off, and everybody else off with your horrible little attitude."

"I don't have an attitude." You mumbled.

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah fucking right. You've been awful all night, and honestly, I'm sick of it. So is everyone else, so you better stop it now. Alright?"

It was your turn to scoff, a heavy eye roll accompanied. "Yeah? Or what? Huh? What the fuck are you or anyone else gonna do huh? Send me home? Cut me? Please, be my fucking guest."

Eddie moved, pinning you to the door, hands on yours, closing around them firmly. "If you don't quit acting so bitchy and mean, then I'm gonna treat you mean. Give you a taste of your own medicine." Eddie growled, eyes pointed in a fiery glare that had your knees buckling.

"You got me? Keep this shitty little attitude up, and I'm gonna drag you to the back and give you an attitude adjustment. That what you want?"

Your heart jumped at the threat, tummy flipping and pooling with warmth. "Y-You're not going to-" Your voice shook, Eddie's challenging look cutting you off further.

"No? You sure? You really think I won't? Keep it up." Eddie snarled, letting your hands go. "I'm sure everyone would love to see you get put in your place after how awful you've been tonight."

You let out a shuddering breath, watching him reach for his reds, sifting through the pack, curls falling in front of his face. Eddie turned to you, cigarette around his lips. "What?" He asked, flicking the lighter. "You want one?"

Your nose scrunched, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open furiously. Eddie rolled his neck, inhaling deeply. It was going to be a long night.

Though your attitude subdued through most of the night, enough that at least you weren't so hateful outwardly, not slinging mean comments. Instead, you took to glaring, shooting daggers at Eddie. Thankfully, the bar died down enough for the two of you to go home in time, Ellen giving Eddie a wary look over your head while you wrote your time.

"Fuckin' asshole." You sneered, sifting through the wadded bills, flicking the cash into the drawer.

"What's wrong?" Ellen asked, passing the check to the group of girls across the bar.

"That jackass only tipped a dollar." You grit, tucking the singular bill into your bra. "Six beers and four shots, and he tips a dollar? What a piece of shit."

Ellen's lips pursed. "Well, maybe if you were nicer-"

"-I was nice." You snapped defensively.

Eddie's shoulders tensed at your tone, even from his place by the door he could hear it, much clearer now that the place had started to clear out.

Ellen's brow raised, looking at you then to Eddie. He could feel his face flush, mortified at your attitude. "You know what? It's died down, and you..." Ellen shook her head. "Veronica and I can close up tonight. You can go home early."

You scoffed, dumping the glasses into the tray. "I don't have a ride. I came with Eddie. It's fine, I'll start the-"

"-No, Ed!" Ellen waved him over. "You two go home early, alright? Last calls in an hour, it's dying down. We got it."

Eddie wanted to die, melt into the floor. He felt like he was in grade school again, getting in trouble because someone was talking to him, grouped in with the trouble when he was innocent.

You didn't argue, huffing when you split the tips in the jar, stomping away towards the back. "Ellen, hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with her tonight. I think she's just in a bad mood-"

"-That's an understatement, Munson." Ellen grumbled, eyes rolling. "Did you two fight or something on the way here?"

"No, we didn't-"

"-Because I'm glad you two are together. I think you're real cute, but if it's going to effect your work like this. I'll have to stop scheduling you two together." Ellen gave him a pointed look. "And that's really gonna be a pain in my ass."

Eddie swallowed, hands buzzing, twisting his rings nervously. "No, I get that. It won't- You don't need to do that. I'll get it under control. This was just a one time thing. She's just having a bad day."

Ellen held his gaze, a stern glare that had Eddie's heart picking up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I hope so. I'm choosing to believe you because I agree, that," Ellen waved towards the back where you were no doubt sulking. "Is out of character."

Eddie nodded, muttering a sigh filled apology. Ellen waved him off. "Hey just make sure you two are good on Tuesday, alright? We'll start fresh. Have a good weekend."

"You too. And you, Veronica, thank you." Eddie waved, pushing the swinging doors towards the back.

He found you next to the lockers, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, foot tapping in annoyance. "What took you so long?" You snapped.

Eddie flinched, blinking back at you in disbelief. "What?"

"I've been waiting. It took you forever." You huffed. "You usually run out of here and tonight, when I'm already in a bad mood, you take forever? Are you just trying to piss me off?"

"Are you?" Eddie snapped. Your eyes widened, face falling at his tone, furious, annoyed.

"What?" You swallowed.

Eddie shook his head at you, grabbing the lock on his locker, spinning the combination. "You're..." Eddie scoffed lightly.

"What? I'm what?" You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

"You're being a real asshole tonight." Eddie looked over his shoulder at you. "Embarrassing, acting like this. Getting sent home early? How are you not embarrassed?"

Heat filled your chest, heavy and suffocating, different that the bubbling rage from before. "I thought you'd be ready to crawl in a hole after Ellen sent you home." Eddie flung the metal door open, letting it hit the others with a loud clank! that had you flinching.

"Then you get me sent home too, and you've got the fucking audacity to be mean? To talk to me like that?" Eddie glared at you over his shoulder. Your frame shrunk, heart pounding in your ears. It was the most subdued you'd been all night.

"I-I didn't get you sent home-"

"-The fuck you didn't." Eddie scoffed, grabbing his keys, his wallet out of the locker, smacking it shut. "You wanna know what was taking to long? I was talking to Ellen. She was telling me if we can't keep our personal life out of work, we can't work together. I was trying to tell her that we didn't get into a fight, and she didn't believe me."

Eddie took a step towards you, time card in hand. "She couldn't believe you were just mean like that unprovoked." Eddie shoved the card in the clock. "So what? You mad at me? Is that what's going on?"

"No." You muttered, looking down at your beat up sneakers, covered with sticky stains from the night.

"So what then? Care to tell me what's wrong? I mean, shit, we're getting sent home now. Feel like you should let me in on what's goin' on." Eddie threw his hands up, keys rattling between his fingers.

"Nothing's wrong-" You sneered, barely registering the ringed hand that caught your chin. Fingers squeezing your cheek in a firm grasp, pulling your gaze to Eddie's.

His eyes lidded, nostrils flaring down at you. "You better watch it." Eddie gritted. "Keep this shit up, and I'll lock that door and fix that attitude in here."

Your tummy flipped, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat. Agitation fizzled into arousal at the threat. You cursed yourself for feeling that way.

Eddie's eyes squinted, head tipping towards yours slightly. "That what you want?" He huffed, hand still firm on your cheeks. "You acted like this because you wanted me to be mean to you-"

"-No." You sneered, wiggling in his grasp, scared he could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "That's not why."

"So tell me why." Eddie's hand loosened, eyes still pinning you with his gaze. "Tell me what's goin' on."

Your chest sunk with a heavy guilt. Burnt out from tireless hours of work, cranky from lack of sleep, annoyed that Ellen let Pat off for the week when the place had never been busier. All of it eating away at you throughout the week until you finally snapped.

"I just wanna go home." Your tone was softer than before, still teetering on huffy. "I don't want to be in this place for another second. I'm so sick of being here."

Eddie nodded, tongue sliding over his teeth. Keys clenched in his hand, he stayed silent. The car ride uncomfortable silent, neither of you speaking first, the hum of the radio the only refuge.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Eddie broke the silence after nearly an hour. The two of you had gotten back to his trailer, going your separate ways to cool down. He finished a cigarette on the steps, let you do whatever you needed to inside.

He found you by the sink, scrubbing your makeup off. Mascara and eyeliner smeared down your lids, normally, he'd laugh. Squeeze your sides and tell you how metal you looked, silly and playful until you were giggling with him.

Not tonight.

A part of you wished he would have. It would have made you feel better.

That gnawing feeling of uncomfortableness was eating you alive from the inside out. Had your chest feeling tight, skin crawling with irritation. It had only grown worse, now that you were left to reflect on the night- on how you acted.

Eddie moved into the mirror behind you, pulling his shirt off, tossing it in the hamper. You brought the wash cloth back to your face, cleaning the smeared makeup from under your eyes.

Eddie's shoulders slumped. "C'mon." He sighed, softer this time. "What's wrong, baby?" His hands slid over your arms, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. "Tell me what's goin' on. I know something's wrong."

Your nose burned, pressing the warm washcloth to it. "I don't know." You muttered, opening the mirror, plucking the faded lilac case from the shelf.

"I just... I don't know." Your eyes rounded, locking with Eddie's through the mirror. "I just- I don't know how to describe it. I just feel off?"

Eddie nodded slowly, hands resting on your back gently. "Off, how?" Eddie hummed, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. You didn't fight him, melting into his embrace instead. "Tell me what's wrong, honey. I just want you to feel better."

Your head tilted back to his chest, his arms heavy over your frame. "Just off." You muttered. "I feel like I need to just get everything out. Hit the reset button because I'm just so- so, bleh."

Eddie's lips curled gently, swaying you lightly in his arms. "I just am, like, unsettled. I'm so tired from work, but then I get home and I can't sleep, and then people are so fuckin' rude-"

"-Who's rude to you?" Eddie pressed, frowning behind you.

"Just the kids." You roll your eyes, shoulders tensing. "Snotty college kids. They think they're better than you or something."

"So come get me when they do that." Eddie's chin hooked over your shoulder lightly. "I'll take care of them. Kick 'em out."

"Then we'd have nobody." You shook your head lightly. "It's just- I don't know. I just feel really off." You paused, craning your neck to look at Eddie. "I feel like I need to get it all out."

Eddie stilled. "You-You want me to help you with that?" He knew what you were asking. "You want me to... To spank you?" It wasn't the first time you'd done this, still his cheeks burned at the word.

Your sex life was far from vanilla, teetering on outright debaucherous at times. He was no stranger to being mean to you in the bedroom, just like you weren't to him. Still, when you'd asked him the first time, to give you emotional release in this way, it felt a little odd to him at times. To bring pain to you, even if you asked, when all he wanted to do was smother you with affection.

Still, he'd do anything for you. You knew that, he did too.

It was why he swayed so easily. Your eyes rounding, lashes batting so sweetly up at him. "It really would help me feel better." His heart skipped, a sweet tone he'd been longing for all night. "I really think it would help."

Eddie nodded, hands sliding down your arms again, squeezing your elbows gently. You picked the hairbrush off the counter, handing it to him, taking his free hand and guiding him to the bedroom.

He let you settle over his lap, wiggling until you felt comfortable, a pillow under your face. Eddie twirled the hair brush in his hand, fidgeting while you settled. It was still new. How hard did he hit in this scenario? Did he soothe you? Scold you? Say anything at all? When you were playing, it was easier. In a headspace that came naturally with the moment.

"Ok," You hummed, turning to look at him, cheek pressed to the pillow. "'m ready."

Eddie hesitated. "You- And you're gonna tell me, right? When you want me to stop?"

"Yes." You nodded gently. "Just don't stop until I'm crying."

Eddie's cock throbbed, a roller coaster like drop in his stomach at your words. "Baby, I'm serious-"

"-I am too." You frowned. "Eddie, I promise I will tell you if it's too much, but... just please? Until I'm crying then you can stop."

"O-Ok," Eddie's breath stuttered, hand smoothing over your pantie clad ass, cheeky cotton panties that had his brain trailing off. "I'm gonna, I'm starting."

You settled back into the pillow, Eddie's hand rubbing down your back soothingly. Your free hand snaked up, folding over the middle of your back, fingers wiggling at Eddie's. A sweet gesture that made his heart swell, interlocking his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently to your back.

The hair brush's smooth wood pressed to your ass, tapping in a warning that had your hips clenching lightly. Eddie hesitated, bringing the hairbrush up, then lower, readjusting his aim, before letting it fall. A soft clap met with a tiny grunt from you.

"You can do harder than that, Ed." You muttered.

"Harder? Are you sure?" Eddie hoped you couldn't feel his heart beating. "I don't wanna hurt you when you're not feeling good, baby."

"You're not hurting me. You're helping me. I swear." You said softly, squeezing his hand gently, reassuringly. "You can do harder than that. I'll let you know if it's too much."

Eddie brought the hairbrush higher, sending it soaring down with a firm smack that had your breath hitching. He waited, your hips squirming in his lap.

"That was good. Just like that, Ed." You whispered, taking a deep breath in through the burn in your nose.

Two identical hits fell to each of your cheeks, a tiny squeak of a cry coming from you. Your grip tightening against his hand with every fall of the hairbrush. Eddie was more confident, fell into a rhythm that felt more comfortable.

Hips wiggling, tiny whimpers and cries coming from you, rotating from cheek to cheek, lower then higher. Eddie brought the hairbrush down, a flick in his wrist that was sharper, stinging against your skin.

A tiny hitch, a sniffle that sounded watery had his ears perking. Eddie paused, feeling the hitch in your chest. "Keep going." You gritted, a white knuckled grip around his hand. "Keep going, Ed. Please."

Eddie brought the hair brush down again, twice, sharp flicks that had you crying out- a real cry, broken and breathy. Unsure, Eddie shushed you sweetly, letting the hair brush fall onto your upturned ass again.

"Shh, it's alright. You're doin' good, sweetheart. Let it out." Eddie rasped, cracking the hairbrush down again. "Doin' good for me."

The next fall of the hairbrush had a cry breaking though your throat, tears springing in your waterline, threatening to fall. The bubble in your chest filling fuller and fuller, close to bursting with the building irritation on your ass.

"You're doin' good. I know you've got to be feeling better." Eddie soothed. "You still good? Need me to stop."

"No," You cried, shaking your head. "K-Keep going, Eddie, please, keep going. D-Do it fast. Fast ones."

Eddie let the hair bursh rain down in quick successions, all over your ass, sharp smacks that had you gritting your teeth in irritation, eyes clenching shut until finally, you felt a wave wash over you. Heavy with emotions, it crashed into you, body shaking in sobs.

Face pressed into the pillow, you cried into the soft cotton, rubbing your face against the pillow case to soothe yourself. Eddie slowed, stopping when your hand loosened in his, body slack and shaking with sobs.

Eddie held you, arms tight around you though it felt like it was more for him. Soft coos and whispers, a hand rubbing down your spine. He hoped you couldn't feel his erection pressing into you. He felt torn, arousal he couldn't help but felt wrong when you were crying. Sobs so deep, stuttering in your chest and rocking your frame.

He hadn't realized how exhausted you were, a pang of guilt ringing through his chest when you started to slump in his arms. Usually, he'd get you calmed down, finish off the night between your legs, to make you feel better or maybe him.

Tonight, he let you settling into the mattress, rolling you onto your side, tucking the pillow under your knees, how you always slept. He wasn't sure how it was comfortable, teased you about it the first time he saw it. "It helps with my back, I swear." You had giggled, hiking a leg up over the pillow and settling into the mattress. Eddie didn't care how you slept, honestly, if it meant you'd sleep next to him.

Settling you under the blankets, Eddie carried the hair brush back into the bathroom, setting it back on the vanity's counter. He pulled the Jergens off the shelf, hand wrapping around his length, relieving himself. Tomorrow, he'd take care of you, spend the day in bed with you if you wanted, hopeful but certain that you'd be better in the morning.

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makeyoumine69 · 1 month ago

Note

Hii,

if it's not to much to ask could you maybe write period sex for a gn reader? Something sweet and comforting T-T

Thank you so much, and I hope you know your writing is amazing!

Shape of You

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

CW: Smut, hurt/comfort, fluff, period sex, masturbation (reader receiving), body worship, blood kink, sweet dirty talk, pet names, finger sucking, established relationship, needy Patrick.

SONG REC: Fame on Fire—Shape of You (Rock Cover)

WORDS: ~2.5k

LINKS: [Masterlist], [AO3], [Wattpad].

A/N: Hello nonnie! I hope you like this little piece of writing, I enjoyed every second of working on it!💞 For this fic, I used ax divider by @paintology-the-alien

Starting your period usually sucked, but starting your period at Bateman's apartment felt even worse because you didn't know how he would react if you told him there would be no sex tonight. Would he be angry or even sad? Probably all of that, but the worst part was that the two of you were supposed to go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You had wanted to go there for a long time, but Patrick had never been able to find the time. And today, when he finally arranged this "weird date," as he called it, you started having your period and the cramps in your stomach made you curl up on his bed, helplessly clutching a pillow. You didn't even think about how long you'd been lying there, you didn't even have the energy to get up and take some painkillers, all you could think about was how mad and angry Bateman would be when he came home and saw you like this. It was pretty obvious that you wouldn't be able to go out today, not even a chance.

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, it became quite dark in the bedroom, the dim light lulling you into a sweet nap that you had been craving all day, considering that in your dream you could finally get some rest from the nagging pain that was making you quite tired.

A soft, almost gentle touch on the top of your head woke you up almost immediately. Blinking in confusion, you looked up to see your lover's beautiful face, and you couldn't really stop yourself from pressing your palm against his cheek. Patrick smiled and let out a sound that was somewhere between a short chuckle and a purr.

"Mmh..." you giggled, watching his plush lips curl at your touch, and tried to pinch his chin, but he caught your hand with ease. "Patty..."

"What's the matter, my sleeping beauty?" He brought your small palm closer, only to leave a light peck on it. "Are you ready for our...little trip into the world of art?"

Rolling your eyes at his feeble attempt to needle you, you sat on your knees, still holding a pillow with your free hand. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can make it to the museum today."

Bateman stopped for a moment. "What? Why not? Did something happen in my absence?"

"No," you replied curtly, the way he instantly panicked and worried melted your heart. "I just..." you looked down, desperately trying to find the right words to describe your condition. But in the end, it was best to call a spade a spade. "I've started my period, and I've got cramps so fucking severe that I can't even get out of bed."

"Too bad." Was all he said before he leaned down to kiss your forehead, then your cheek and your nose. It was only when he had finished showering your face with little pecks that he finally found your lips and gently pulled you closer, placing your hands on his broad shoulders. The kiss was slow at first, but then evolved into something more demanding as you responded, letting your tongues slide along each other in a lustful dance. "Did you take some pills? Painkillers?"

You shook your head, causing Patrick to tsk in frustration.

"I'll bring you... something then," with that he strolled across the bedroom to disappear around the corner to the bathroom. The man returned in a minute, holding a jar of pills and a bottle of Eveian water. "This is ibuprofen, it'll help."

"Thank you doctor," you chirped and took a pill while Patrick opened a bottle for you, holding it all the way while you drank. "I'm sorry for ruining our plans...I hope you're not mad at me."

Grinning in delight, Patrick brushed the stray curls from your face. "No, I'm not mad at all. Besides, it was you who wanted to go to the museum so badly, so I think of the two of us, you should be the one who's sad that we're not going there."

"Right..."

Slowly, Bateman unbuttoned his jacket and carefully placed it on the bed, where he found your small sketchbook, which he almost immediately picked up with undisguised interest.

"So this is what you were doing while I was at work?" He asked, flipping through the pages and admiring your little sketches. "Mmm...nice anatomy...that looks really nice. Not bad at all."

Slightly embarrassed, you let out an awkward chuckle and turned away, for some reason you didn't want to see him looking through your sketchbook. "Well, thanks for the compliment...I guess?" You wanted to say something else, but instead you could only stifle a groan of pain as another nagging cramp shot through you. "Oh...fuck...I hate it so much."

Seeing you writhing in pain, Bateman closed the sketchbook and put it back on the bed, you didn't even understand what he was about to do, but as he picked you up and carried you bridal style, you hugged his neck and dared to ask a question.

"Where are we going?"

"To the bathroom," the man replied with radiant confidence, as if he had done it so many times before. But what exactly was he going to do? "A warm bath will help ease your pain, honey. Trust me."

Frowning, you couldn't help thinking that you probably weren't the first partner he'd had who suffered from a painful period, but when you finally entered the bathroom and he put you down on the floor, his hands already working on removing your top and shorts, you forgot about everything. Because the past should be in the past, right?

When Patrick finished undressing you, he quickly turned on the faucet of the bathtub and the water flowed down with a pleasant sound.

"God, you're so pretty," Bateman murmured suddenly, planting a loving kiss on your shoulder, then bending forward to burrow his nose into your hair; you were glad you'd showered several times already today, because you felt nervous and uncomfortable being intimate with him when your period started. "I think I know more ways to help you with your pain."

There was something playful in his voice, something that made your knees weak and if he did not hold you, you would probably end up splattered on the floor.

"Get in the bath, kitten," he whispered in your ear, his lips teasing the lobe almost imperceptibly. "Want to try some new soaps I got?" Patrick asked, pulling up the sleeves of his blue cotton shirt.

You obeyed and took your place in the warm tub, it felt heavenly. "Would you allow me to use them? I can't believe it."

"Today," the man sat on the edge of the tub and took a washcloth to soak it in water, then he grabbed the freshly purchased L'Occitane liquid soap. "I'll make an exception." The man poured a handful onto the washcloth and began scrubbing your back so gently you didn't even feel it. As his free hand slid down your chest, you gasped, feeling a building tension at your core. "Spread your legs."

Oh, shit.

You barely held back a curse, but did as he said anyway, feeling completely at his mercy, and of course he liked it, you knew it as the moment you parted your legs his large palm slid between them, pressing a washcloth and gently rubbing your sensitive spot in a circular motion.

"Mmmh," you closed your eyes and leaned against the marble rim of the tub. "That..."

"Feels good?"

"Absolutely," you replied, letting him have better access to your most sensitive places, his fingers busy touching your throbbing flesh as the washcloth was already forgotten. Shaking, you opened your eyes when he grabbed your neck, not roughly, but quite possessively. "You have very interesting ways...to ease the pain?"

Bateman didn't say anything, just smiled and turned you to look up at him. "I want you to look right at me while I work on this little sweet spot of yours," he wrapped your throat a little tighter, making you gasp, but his mouth silenced any sounds you tried to make. "You like it when I take care of you, darling?"

You nodded as desperately as you could as Patrick slid one of his long fingers inside you, curling it just the way you always liked it. "Ahhh…Pat-Patrick…mhmm!"

"Just look at me," he cooed, brushing his lips against yours, ready to drink in your every little moan, adding another finger, causing your inner muscles to cling to his digits like a vine. "Just like that, my little plaything...just like that."

The eye contact, the sweet dirty talk, the way his fingers moved inside of you—it all drove you crazy, you were afraid of splashing the water out of the tub or on his expensive clothes, but as the man pressed your wet body closer to him, you knew you had both already lost your minds, together.

Catching his hand between your thighs, you made him stop for a second, Patrick curled his eyebrows in a silent question, but you used your mouth as the most eloquent answer, kissing him hard on the lips, spurring him to grab your neck even tighter as he was burning from the inside, as if the blood was boiling in his veins. God, he wanted you so fucking bad.

"Come here," you uttered after tugging at his lower lip. "Please..."

Breathing heavily, Bateman released your neck and stood up quickly to remove his tie, shirt, belt, pants...

He did it so fast that you didn't even notice how he took a place behind you in the tub, it felt like he had been here from the beginning, his hard dick pressed against your ass, throbbing at the contact, but the man was focused on you, even when he noticed the tiny crimson pools of blood in the waster, he managed to fight his urge to fuck you here and now. After all, this was about you, not him.

Wrapping his strong arms around you again, he explored your body so agonizingly slowly that you were about to scream with need, each touch calculated to set every nerve end in your system on fire. With your heavy lidded eyes you looked back at him, embraced his neck and without saying a word you quickly got up to mount him, making his thick cock draw between your legs, the friction causing his jaw to clench from the tension in his balls.

With a sly grin, you ran a finger along his parted lips, and before you knew it, Bateman had it in his mouth, sucking on it as if his life depended on it, while his hips idly bucked in a most shamelessly suggestive manner.

"Look at you," you whispered, pushing his finger deeper. "I didn't know blood could turn you on like this."

Patrick moaned as you rubbed your crotch against his, you were as close to falling apart as he was, though you tried to regain some control, not really realizing that you were in the lead now only because HE allowed you to be.

With a graceful move, you took his engorged cock to give it a few strokes before aligning it with your entrance to slowly take it in as you lowered your hips onto his.

"A-awww, fuck," you clawed at his shoulders from how full he made you feel, his hands already holding your waist in a tight ring as you bobbed up and then slowly down, savoring every inch of his girth that stretched you so deliciously. "I love you...I love you so f-fucking much."

Throwing his head back, Patrick barely kept himself from exploding inside you, the warmth and tightness of your inner channel making it so fucking hard for him to hold out any longer, but he did his best for you.

"Ohhh, shit, you're... you're so tight-mmmh," Bateman groaned, his hands digging into the skin of your hips as you picked up the pace, literally bouncing on his dick. "I'm...I'm gonna fill you so...fucking...deep!"

Moan after loud moan, water spilling onto the floor from your feverish movements, the obscene sounds of your bodies colliding against each other drowning out all other sounds as for a moment you thought your heart would pop out of your chest. It was beating so fast that you could hear your pulse drumming in your ears.

"Fuck....I'm cumming...Goshhh," you snuggled into his brawny frame, your hands squeezing his buff biceps as you clenched around him, milking his dick so he would follow suit, erupting inside of you, pumping you with the tight ropes of cum. "Patrick..."

You rested your head on his shoulder, he was still shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm, his muscles slowly relaxing under your touch. Patrick couldn't even say a word, his eyes closed and his face, chest and neck flushed red. You couldn't even find the right words to describe how much you loved seeing him like that, vulnerable as he was coming down from his high. The way he was always blushing during sex was your special kink.

After a while, the two of you were lying on the bed, wearing designer robes and discussing how you would visit the museum the next weekend. All the while, you were finishing your latest sketch when you suddenly remembered a fresh sketch you finished today. As you flipped through the pages, you landed on Bateman's chest and brushed his wet bangs.

"You know, if you kept leafing through my sketchbook, you would find this," you showed him the sketch of the tall, muscular man with a skipping rope, in which Patrick recognized himself almost immediately, but he remained silent. "What do you think?"

Humming, the man looked at you, then at the sketch, then back at you. "So you're stalking me while I'm working out?"

"What?" You jokingly punched him in the chest. "I... I don't stalk..."

"Well, I don't mind," he cut you off, grabbing the sketchbook out of your hands. "But I think I look a lot better in real life," Bateman pointed at the sketch as if he were an art critic. "You see, my body is much more ripped, and my chest muscles are much more... toned."

You shook your head, on the verge of laughing. "Of course, you are such a work of art yourself. No one can capture you as perfectly as you really are."

For a moment you thought your words might offend him as his face turned serious, his lips tightened into a thin line, but then you both burst out laughing. Ultimately, you didn't need to praise him all the time, because he was perfect just the way he was, and you knew that better than anyone else in the world.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my writing community to know when I update!💞

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader

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neuvilette-tea-party · 3 days ago

Text

₊ ˙ ⊹ Mon coeur, mon coeur don't cry₊ ˙ ⊹

Neuvilette x F!reader

You shudder in pain in your bed when your husband comes home to take care of you

Tags : hurt and fluff, periods pain, Neuvilette is a soft king, uses of "maman"

You curl up in bed and whistle in pain.

Those damn periods!

You shiver as another wave of pain and nausea comes shaking your body. You are absolutely miserable right now!

“Mon amour?” You suddenly feel a gloved hand brushing a strand of hair off your face, “Are you all right?”

You weakly open your eyes to discover Neuvilette looking at you with concerned eyes, caressing your temple and cheek. His long strands of white hair frame his delicate face as the light accentuates the violet color of his eyes.

You growl, pulling on the cover.

“My periods... could not go to work today...” You manage to say between gritted teeth, pressing your knees against your chest in a desperate attempt to soothe the pain and tense muscles at least a little bit.

His hand cups your cheek softly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he tilts his head.

“Does it hurt so much, mon coeur?” He inquires, his worries identifiable in the soft tone.

“It’s like a machine blending my organs!” You push your head in the pillow, tears behind your eyes.

He leans forward to let a soft kiss on your temple, savoring the sensation of your skin against his lips.

“Stay here.” He orders, standing back up.

You look at him exiting the bedroom in silence before closing your eyes, swallowing back the torrent of curses at the gates of your lips. How liberating it would feel to scream them at the top of your lungs but Neuvilette’s delicate ears would be scarred forever!

You shiver once more as the pain decides to head toward your lower back. It’s only 7 days, get it together!

It’s only seven days...

It’s only 7 days but holy Hydro dragon those are long, rough 7 days!

You sigh lamenting for yourself, thinking about the earful you will receive at work tomorrow... You reopen your eyes at a delicious smell and the bed tipping. Neuvilette came back with a tray with a fuming hot chocolate with some Viennoiseries on a plate and a glass of clear, fresh water.

“Sit down if you can, mon coeur.” He gently orders.

You wince, trying to sit down, taking support on the pillows, and making yourself as comfortable as possible with your periods. You manage with more or less success. Once you are set you try to smile at him and not just wince unelegantly.

Neuvilette smiles back gently and slips a pill into the glass of water that he hands to you. You sip the effervescent painkiller trying not to gag at the bitter taste of the medication, but the fresh water makes up for it. A water specifically chosen by your dragon lover, obviously.

You finish the glass and Neuvilette puts the tray on your knees for you to feast on. You bite down the pastries and gulp down a big sip of chocolate with glee, getting a little enthusiasm back. He looks at you eating your only food of the day with a tender expression before opening the dresser to take out your fluffy plaid that he lays on you and a hot water bottle that he goes to fill and heat up. You sigh of pleasure when he lifts the cover to slide the hot water bottle inside and lay it on your upset lower tummy.

“Thanks the Hydro...” You mumble.

“I am here, mon coeur.” He shoots you a mischievous smile, “No need to pray for me, I am solely focused on you.”

You feel your cheeks heating up and dive your gaze into the fuming chocolate cup. You are used to dating the Hydro dragon of Fontaine, but old habits die hard.

“I called your workplace, mon amour. Your entire week is free.” He placidly announces, tucking you in bed correctly.

Your bite almost goes the wrong way.

“An entire week?!” You choke.

He raises an eyebrow at you like he doesn’t understand.

“You are not one to miss work for a simple cold, mon coeur. It looks worse than usual, you should rest and mend.”

“I just have my periods, it doesn’t matter that I bleed to death, I have to be here!” You bitterly fight back.

“No, you do not.” He simply closes the matter, “They were very understanding when I called them. You can stay in bed and rest.”

“Of course they were compliant, you are the Iudex!”

He sniggers, booping your nose playfully.

“What good is my title for if I cannot even help mon doux amour during her time of distress?”

You melt before his tender expression, abdicating entirely before him and-

“MAMAN?!” A little girl’s voice resonates suddenly, making you both jump out of your skin.

Horrified and trembling, Sigewinne stands in the doorframe, looking at you like you were dying in front of her.

“Maman, are you okay?! We could smell blood from the garden!” She cries.

“She is alright, Sigewinne. We are both here to take care of maman.” Neuvilette comforts her.

She sobs hard and rush to you. Neuvilette has just the time to grab her to stop her as she helplessly extends her arms to you.

“Maman is very sensible and uncomfortable right now. Be careful alright?” He explains.

She turns her head to him and nods frankly, promising to be good. He releases her and she crowls in the bed to sit next to you, hugging one of your arms as you finish your cup and viennoiseries.

“Go back to sleep, mon coeur. The painkiller will soon soothe you.” He kisses your forehead before taking your empty tray, and putting it on the bedside table. You wriggle your way under the blankets with a relieved sigh, followed by sweet Sigewinne, letting her snuggle against you. Neuvilette skirts the bed and slides under the covers with you, not even taking off his pricey jacket, and he hugs you tight, caressing Sigewinne’s head gently.

“Make yourself comfortable, mon amour. I will be here when you wake up.” He promises, kissing the back of your ear.

You hug your adoptive daughter and the hot water bottle as Neuvillette’s tall body spoons yours gently, shielding you from the rest of the world and the pain.

You take one of his hands in yours and he intertwines your fingers together; letting a low purr arise in the bedroom, lulling you to sleep and peace.

At last...

#genshin neuvillette #genshin x reader #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #fanfic

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disneyprincemuke · 1 year ago

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glitter * mv1

it's the morning after a party, and you find yourself tangled up in bed with your boyfriend

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: fluff!! (which is rare for me)

notes: the first one for my 2k sleepover!! my requests are open for my 2k follower sleepover event!!

“darling, wake up.”

the grip around your waist tightens and your back is pressed up on max’s chest. his lips linger on the back of your neck as his thumb traces circles on your bare waist.

you hum in response, your hand covering the back of his that laid on your waist. “good morning, love.”

“it’s 1pm. we need to feed the cats and eat something ourselves,” he whispers. the bed dips behind you and when you open your eyes, max is looming over your shoulder with a smile. “good morning.”

“5 more minutes,” you mumble. you shuffle in the bed, adjusting the duvet as you turn and force max back down into the bed. you throw your arms around his bare torso and bury your face into the pillow. “i’m too tired to get up.”

he shakes in a chuckle, making you pull away and furrow your eyebrows to glare at him. he simply grins at you and moves the stray hairs from your face. “you said that at 11am when i tried waking you up.”

you groan and drop your head onto the pillow. you put your fingers over his eyelids and force them close as you bury your face into his chest. “i’m saying it again now at 1pm. go back to sleep.”

the sun barely illuminates the room you share. you don’t know where the cats are, and while you are concerned about them, sleeping is the only way to cure the pounding you feel in your head.

max had thrown a party the night before, celebrating the end of the 2023 season with the grid. he had it in your house and invited everyone that could say yes. and he threw a raging party.

it did end at 5 in the morning, fueled to last that long with endless party games and loud laughter. you can safely admit that you drank a little too much knowing that you had nowhere to be the next morning.

you didn’t take into account how hungry the cats would be at 1pm. in your defense, though, you’d drunkenly filled up their food bowl before you fell into bed with max at 6.

“but we have to get up,” max mumbles, twirling a piece of your hair on his finger. he presses a kiss to your temple then rubs your shoulder gently. “some of the guys stayed over — carlos is making pancakes.”

you have to admit the pancakes that carlos makes is absolutely delectable. but it’s not enough to convince you to get up.

“he’ll make some for me later if i ask.”

“bold of you to assume that.”

“i know he will. he loves me.” you tighten your grip around him and yank him closer to you. “shut up, max. i’m trying to sleep.”

“then i will get up, okay?” he whispers, slowly untangling himself from your arms. “i’m very hungry and thirsty.”

you frown as the bed moves and the warmth of his body leaves you. you peek through an eye, watching him bend down to get his shorts off the ground and pull it up his legs.

“do you want any coffee? what about water? i’ll bring it up to you, if you want,” he offers, turning to you as he pulls his shirt down. “what about orange juice?”

but you didn’t want to be in bed alone. so now you’re slowly pushing yourself up the mattress, ignoring the way your world spins and head pounds with every second passing.

“darling, get back in bed. i’ll get you what you need.” his voice wavers as he rushes over to your aid when you stumble at the edge of the bed. “i’ll get you some pills for the headache.”

“i want pancakes,” you mutter as you fish for your shorts resting peacefully on the hardwood floor. “and i should help you clean. it’s my house too.”

“it was my party. you just sit back and relax until you feel better,” he says. he pats your head, grabbing the headband sitting on the bedside table peacefully.

he gently pushes your hair back and slides on the top of your head. "are you sure you want to get up now?"

you nod your head, eyes scanning the floor for the shirt you'd thrown somewhere here in the middle of the night. instead, your attention catches a picture reflecting a ray of sun onto a small patch of the wall.

you wobble over to it and pick it up, a polaroid picture of you and max from the night before. it's a tame picture from before the night had gone wild: you're in the kitchen by the fridge with a bottle of beer in your hands with his hand around your waist, and your head on his shoulder.

you're sure that there's another somewhere, later in the night when you're both flushed from the alcohol and giggling on the couch with your legs on his lap.

"there's more pictures on the coffee table downstairs," max chuckles, towering over you from behind. he holds up a piece of clothing by your side, the shirt you'd been looking for seconds ago now accounted for. "were you looking for this?"

"it's my favourite hangover shirt," you giggle, receiving the shirt into your hands. when you put it on, it rests just below your thighs, covering your shorts very slightly.

it's max's shirt from his teen years, no longer fitting him as he grew, but it fit you perfectly on days you prefer loosely fitted clothing. you tuck the hems of the shirt into your shorts and pull it out to give yourself some air.

"ah, you've got glitter all over you, darling," max laughs, his thumbs grazing over your forearm where the said glitter sits on your skin.

he squeezes you three times before he drops his hand to his side, eyes scanning your body for more traces of glitter.

"laugh all you want but you've got one on your cheek too," you tease as you lift your hand up to try and scratch it off. "this is going to be ass to get off."

"you're the one who suggested getting glittery party hats, darling, i don't know what to say," he shrugs as he turns and walks over to the door. "let's get some food and start our day."

"okay," you mutter, walking over to him. you stop by the door where he is and lift your chin. "i had fun last night. great party."

"it was only great because you helped me throw it."

#heh #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke milestone #disneyprincemuke sleepover

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nsharks · 1 year ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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carolmunson · 6 months ago

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modern!eddie x tipsy!reader

“Ooh, someone had fun,” he giggles from the couch while you stumble into the living room. He knew what to expect the moment he got your texts an hour ago.

omg can’’t t wait to duxk u when i home get t ho home* duck***** fuck u***

tell me they were at least good quality shots

casa migos i

aw come on, i taught you better than that

and wine

yeah? what kind?

.rose?

rosé?

all day lol and espresSo

martini?

😎 ya

sweetheart, did you eat at all?

yes!! we’ee getting za we ate before and now done dri nking

okay, will i see you soon?

ya soon we can sex

He laughed at that one, a hearty belly laugh. You’re only like this when you’re wasted. Clawing and snarling like a starved animal at the sight of him, the thought of him.

When you stumble in you’re lucid for the most part but your eyes are glassy with evidence of a good night. He can tell you smoked too, which means you’ll need more ibuprofen than you normally do when you drink.

You drop your purse and jacket next to the door, kicking off your heels by the TV stand. He’ll pick them up later.

“Hi baby,” he smirks coolly while you make your way to him on the couch.

“I had so much fun,” you respond, unbuttoning your jeans and shimmying them off, “But I never wanna wear ‘standing jeans’ again.”

He doesn’t know what you mean by that but he doesn’t ask, just nods, welcoming you with open arms while you straddle his lap. The second your faced dips into his neck he knows your promises of ravaging him are long broken. Your body relaxes, sinking in against his chest.

“I’m glad you had a good night, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, hand sliding up and down your back. Your breaths come in slow, he can feel your lashes fluttering against his skin while you force yourself to stay awake.

“Would’ve been funner if you were there,” you say into the crook of his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “You make everything fun.”

Eddie’s heart swells, “You think?”

You lean up, looking at him with glassy eyes, more tired than wasted, “I know.”

He leans his head back between the cushions, bangs dusting his eyes, “You make everything fun for me, too.”

You grin, a sloppy one, “You know how I can make tonight really fun?”

Your fingers skate up his chest, sending a shiver through him that stirs in his sweatpants.

“Sweetheart…” he warns gently.

“C’mon,” you whine, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, “Please.”

“Doll, you’ve been drinkin’,” he reminds, reaching up to cup your cheek, “You know I don’t like playing around like that.”

“I’m not drunk though,” you protest, “I can do the drunk driver test. I swear.”

“By the way you’re falling asleep sitting up, I doubt it,” he laughs. He leans up, supporting you on his thighs while he goes in to plant a loving kiss on your lips, “I think we should head to bed.”

“Lame,” you frown, scrunching your face. You shimmy off his lap and cross your arms, walking down the hall to the bedroom.

“Kissin’ me like that like some kinda Cassanova…” you grumble. He rolls his eyes, getting some water and aspirin for you while you change into some pajamas.

“That’s what the call me. Eddie Casanova Munson,” he grizzles, leaning against the door frame with the glass and pills and hand, “Your libations, princess.”

Your sour look doesn’t fade when you take them, but you to say a quiet thank you when the pills pass your lips.

“Am I not fun anymore?” he teases.

“No, you’re still fun,” you sigh, crawling into bed where he follows. Eddie takes a silent win when you wrap yourself around him after sliding between the sheets.

“I’ll be more fun tomorrow,” he smiles, burying himself in your neck. You feel his warm scratchy chin and shiver, soft kisses following it, “It’s gonna rain.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” you murmur, the bed feeling cozier with every passing moment while the alcohol rushes in you for one last sleepy hurrah.

“Yeah it is,” he responds quietly, feeling you grow heavy and slack against him, “We can stay in all day.”

“Boring.”

“Boring huh?” he smirks, “I don’t know, I thought maybe we could revisit your texts.”

#this has been sitting in my drafts for a while #blurbie

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healmyhrt · 9 months ago

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⌗ motion picture soundtrack, m. sturniolo

matt x fem!reader

summary: matt attempts to help while you’re going through a depressive episode.

disclaimers!: depression, self-harm, drug use (marijuana), established relationship, use of y/n

a/n: this was requested:)

i laid across the comforter, limbs spread out, with the lights all off. sitting in the dark made me feel safe for some reason. i liked the dark. i found comfort in darkness.

but sometimes the darkness can become the root to my problems.

i was diagnosed with depression when i was only 14 years old. since then, it’s gotten worse, but every now and then it gets better. and it got better when i met matt.

but now im getting bad again.

and i always get bad again.

i was high out of my mind, and getting lost in my thoughts the more the weed kicked in. i always used marijuana to cope with my problems, i know i shouldn’t, but i do.

even trying to stand up was a mistake. my body wouldn’t allow it. as soon as i raised my feet, my body sunk back into the mattress. i would have preferred to drown in the mattress, dying from suffocation.

red wine and sleeping pills

help me get back to your arms

light peers into the room as the door creaks open.

but i don’t move an inch. the weed made my body feel as light as a feather, and like it told me not to move at all or else i would ruin it.

“y/n?” matt makes it clear that it’s him. he walks over to the bed, and hands me a water bottle. “you need to drink something.” i push his hand away, and realizing how much energy it took out of me.

i ignore him, and he gets up, walking over to the lamp. “you can’t be like this forever.” he turns it on. the world that was black and empty is now filled with light.

but im still lost in my thoughts.

cheap sex and sad films

help me get where I belong

“i started a bath for you. come on.” he gently picks me up, and i feel nothing in my bones, my muscles, nothing at all.

once we reach the bathroom, matt sits me on the toilet seat, and starts undressing me. “arms.” he forms a small smile.

i try to lift my arms, but not even they could be moved. matt pulls my huge t-shirt over my head, carefully, and off of my arms.

he places his hands on the waistband of my underwear. “can i?” he raises an eyebrow. i nod as much as i can.

he slides them down my legs, and im seated on the toilet seat butt ass naked. matt picks me up effortlessly again, and gently places me in the bath water.

once im situated, he kneels next to the tub, and grabs a loofa. matt starts on my shoulders, and works his way down my arms. he turns my forearm toward him, and stops.

all he saw were scars.

I think you’re crazy, maybe

matt sets the loofa down in the water, gently grabbing my arm. his warm fingers against my skin felt like spiders crawling all over me. he takes a closer look at them, some of them healed, some fresh.

“stop.” i mumble, using all of my energy to pull my arm away. looking up at matt, his eyes watering. “y/n, what is that?”

it felt like i was talking to my mother all over again. how she reacted when she found out i harmed myself. it was terrible, i never wanted to see her cry like that again. let alone matt.

“im sorry.”

matt holds his face in his hands. my eyes start to water, and i look at him. “matt, please don’t send me away.”

he immediately looks up, with a confused expression. “send you away?” i look at the water. “i don’t wanna go there again.”

matt’s face softens, and he leans closer to the tub. “y/n, who sent you away?” even talking about this makes me think of it. and i start crying uncontrollably. my thoughts are a parasite in my brain.

stop sending letters

letters always get burned

matt softly hugs me, and his arms around me help me remember feeling. feeling like i should have been.

its not like the movies

they fed us on little white lies

matt helps me back into bed, and i feel safer, now in warmers clothes. i lay my head onto the pillow, and stare at the ceiling, laughing. i could not stop laughing.

and then it stopped.

now all of the world was gray. and grayer. and even grayer. then it was black. pitch black.

matt lays down beside me, and i turn toward him. seeing his face made me feel some sort of comfort.

like i had been living in grayscale and matt was the first thing id ever seen in color.

i think you’re crazy, maybe

matt leans in closer to me. “y/n, can i ask you a serious question?” i nod my head slowly. but my head pounded with every movement i made.

“are you okay, seriously?”

i wanted to sink into the pillow, letting matt never have to see my face again. and me not having to answer that question ever again.

i stared at him in silence.

my eyes started to water again, and i bit my bottom lip, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to leave my eyes. and matt just hugged me.

i will see you in the next life.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #Spotify

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infamous-light · 5 months ago

Text

You Belong to Me Ch. 6

Alcina Dimitrescu x F! Reader

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5

AO3: You Belong to Me

Summary: Lady Dimitrescu's obsession knows no bounds as she becomes increasingly possessive over you. Will you succumb to her dark embrace, or find a way to break free before it's too late?

Word Count: 4.2K

Warnings: Yandere, possessive/obsessive behavior, needles

There was a knock on the door. The sound was sharp and sudden, shattering the stillness that filled the bedroom.

From her perch in a high-backed chair near the crackling fireplace, Lady Dimitrescu lifted her gaze, her cold, golden eyes narrowing in annoyance behind her dark lashes. Her attention had previously been focused on various documents meticulously arranged on the coffee table, papers filled with finely penned notes and small diagrams.

“Enter.” She commanded.

Sofia stepped in, carefully balancing a silver tray filled with an assortment of breakfast items.

"Set it on the nightstand."

"Yes, my Lady." Sofia responded immediately.

Lady Dimitrescu's eyes followed Sofia's movements, observing every detail with an air of detachment.

As she made her way across the bedroom, Sofia's eyes widened in surprise upon noticing your presence. However, she quickly composed herself, seamlessly slipping back into her professional role as she set the tray on the nightstand beside you.

The tray held an array of delicacies that seemed almost too perfect: golden, freshly baked croissants glistening with a hint of butter, promising warmth and flakiness with each bite. Next to them, a colorful selection of ripe, juicy fruits beckoned, their sweet aroma mingling in the air, and completing the ensemble was a crystal-clear glass of water.

Dread churned in your stomach at the sight of the glass. Your mind involuntarily replayed the memory in excruciating detail: the subtle bitterness that tainted the water, the slow, creeping numbness that spread throughout your body, and through it all, you remembered the smug satisfaction in Lady Dimitrescu’s eyes as you succumbed to the sedative.

Your eyes flickered to Sofia, who stood nearby, gazing at you with barely concealed concern. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her dress, betraying her nervousness, and her lips were pressed into a thin, tense line. Her eyes darted between you and Lady Dimitrescu, reflecting a mixture of apprehension and sympathy. Your eyes silently pleaded with Sofia to help you in some way, but you knew she couldn’t do anything. She was as much a prisoner of this situation as you were.

“You may leave.” Lady Dimitrescu said dismissively.

Sofia curtsied and swiftly exited the bedroom. The sound of the door closing behind her felt like a finality, sealing you in alone with the Lady again.

Lady Dimitrescu let out a low sigh – the sound heavy with a mix of weariness and restrained impatience – as she set the documents aside.

“Alright, darling, it’s time for you to eat.” She murmured.

Rising gracefully from her chair, she moved with a regal poise as she made her way over to you. As she reached your side, she bent over at the hip, her hands sliding under your back to gently but firmly prop you up against the plush pillows. She arranged you as if you were a fragile doll in need of careful handling. Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress, Lady Dimitrescu reached out for the croissant resting on the plate and brought it to your lips, her gaze fixed on your face expectantly.

You pressed your lips together and turned your head away, your body instinctively recoiling from the food in front of you. Doubt gnawed at your mind, and you couldn't shake the suspicion that something had been done to the food, if it had been pilled out or tampered with in some way.

“It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.” You said softly, the words almost a whisper amongst the silence that followed.

The air seemed to thicken with each passing moment, the weight of Lady Dimitrescu's gaze intensifying as she observed you. You kept your gaze averted, unable to meet her eyes.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “I understand your reluctance, darling, but you must eat something.”

The flicker of defiance in your eyes did not escape her notice, so she adjusted her posture slightly, leaning in with a subtle yet palpable authority. You curled more into yourself, trying to shrink away from her penetrating gaze, but she remained steadfast, her eyes fixed on you. The air around you began to crackle with tension. Her eyes narrowed slightly, the intensity of her stare growing sharper. The smirk on her face transformed into a thin, dangerous smile, one that instinctively signaled danger.

“That wasn’t a request,” she continued smoothly. “If you won’t eat, I'll force it down your throat.”

The menace in her tone sent a shiver down your spine, the words hanging in the air like a dark promise. Lady Dimitrescu’s smile widened, but it held no warmth. She moved closer, her presence looming over you like a dark cloud.

“You will eat, whether you like it or not.” She whispered, her voice low and threatening.

A rush of fear and adrenaline coursed through you, quickening your pulse. The memory of the bitter, medicinal taste from before flashed through your mind, and the thought of being drugged again, or worse, made your stomach churn. You knew you couldn't trust her, couldn't allow yourself to be at her mercy even more, especially not after what happened last night. At that moment, consequences mattered little; a surge of defiance rose within you, and you straightened up, shoulders squared, meeting her cool gaze with as much courage as you could muster.

“I won't.” You replied, your voice steadier now, though your hands trembled at your sides.

For a moment, there was only silence, broken by the sound of your own ragged breathing. Then, without warning, she lunged forward, grabbing your jaw with a grip like iron. Her fingers dug into your skin, forcing your head up to meet her gaze. Her eyes blazed with fury, a cold, unyielding anger. Her face was an inch away from yours, her breath hot and wild against your skin, carrying the faint scent of wine and something metallic.

“Open your mouth!” Lady Dimitrescu demanded.

Fear and anger battled inside of you, but you refused to back down. Gathering every ounce of your strength, you pushed against her, trying to break free from her grasp. Your muscles strained as you fought to break loose. Your breaths came in short, sharp bursts, yet, with each futile struggle, her grip remained firm, a silent reminder of her sheer strength and control.

Lady Dimitrescu growled, a low, menacing sound. Her grip tightened, her thumb and forefinger like steel vices pressing into the pressure points underneath your jaw, sending a sharp pain shooting through your nerves. You felt your mouth being forced open against your will, the muscles straining and twitching against the force she applied.

She then stuffed a piece of the croissant into your mouth and squeezed it close. The fresh, dry texture of the pastry crumbled against your tongue, and you could taste the buttery residue left on it.

“I won’t let go until I see you swallow that piece.” Lady Dimitrescu hissed through her teeth.

You glared up at her through angry tears. They stung your eyes and traced burning paths down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your mouth. Yet, she continued to gaze down at you, unmoved by your protest. She arched an eyebrow, a silent challenge in her gaze, as if daring you to defy her further. The ache around your jaw increased, a persistent throb that radiated through your temples, causing your head to pound with each pulse. You balled up your fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms in a futile attempt to redirect the discomfort away from your jaw.

A condescending smile broke across Lady Dimitrescu’s lips, transforming her stern expression into one of mocking amusement. She chuckled darkly, the sound low and cold, “I can assure you, pet,” she said in a patronizing tone, “Neither the food nor the drink is laced with any sort of drug. Now, stop behaving like a little brat and eat.”

The dismissive way she spoke to you, as if you were nothing more than an unruly child, made your blood boil, intensifying the throbbing pain in your jaw and the burning fury in your chest. Unfortunately, you knew in the back of your mind that she would not let up. It was like fighting a losing battle.

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you forced yourself to start chewing the pastry. Its soft, buttery taste mingled with the bitter bile rising in your throat. Each bite felt like a battle against the rising nausea, your jaw moving mechanically as she watched you eat, her eyes never leaving your face. Swallowing became a challenge against the hard lump in your throat, each gulp feeling like conceding defeat.

Lady Dimitrescu's smirk deepened, her eyes glinting in pleasure as you did what you were told. She released her grip on your jaw, and the pain instantly lessened, leaving a lingering soreness in its wake.

“Now, was that so hard?” Lady Dimitrescu asked mockingly.

She turned her attention back to the tray. Her long fingers reached for the glass of water beside her, and you clenched your teeth, resisting the urge to react. Golden eyes peered at you once more, narrowing slightly.

“Do not test my patience, pet. I won't be as nice about it as before.” She warned coolly.

With a resigned sigh, you allowed her to bring the glass to your lips. You took a small, cautious sip, feeling the liquid slide down your throat, soothing your parched mouth but doing little to ease the knot of anxiety in your stomach.

You waited for a moment, preparing for the worst, but nothing came.

Lady Dimitrescu chuckled at your guarded reaction.

For the remainder of breakfast, she took care of feeding you. Despite your initial hesitation, there were no lingering effects from the meal – no signs of drowsiness or disorientation. The food and drink hadn't been drugged, confirming her earlier statement.

Regardless, you still didn’t trust her.

***

Hours passed in a haze.

You were dimly aware of the passage of time, marked only by the shifting light filtering in through the windows and the occasional distant sounds from the staff echoing throughout the castle. Eventually, the light outside the window faded, replaced by the deepening shadows of night.

You stirred slightly, realizing with a growing sense of urgency that you needed to pee. The sensation grew more insistent with each passing second, pushing through the fog of your grogginess and demanding attention. You shifted, attempting to rise, but found your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The pressure in your bladder grew more uncomfortable, spurring you to try again. As you struggled to sit up, the bedroom spun around you, and a wave of dizziness made you pause, gripping the bed sheets for support. Just then, Lady Dimitrescu appeared by your side, her hand resting on your shoulder as she pushed you back onto the bed gently.

“Ah, ah, dear. You’re not going anywhere.” She tutted.

You gazed up at her and hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“I... I need to use the bathroom.” You admitted reluctantly, the words felt like a betrayal of your dignity.

Her lips curled into an amused smile, one eyebrow arching ever so slightly, as if she found your predicament both entertaining and endearing. “Oh? Well, allow me to assist you then.”

The thought of her assisting you in such a vulnerable state filled you with humiliation. You could almost feel her amusement wrapping around you like a tangible presence, making your skin prickle.

“I can manage.” You protested feebly, though even as you spoke, you weren't sure you believed it yourself.

Lady Dimitrescu let out a soft chuckle, the sound rich and warm despite the slightly teasing undertone. “I’m well aware but I meant I’ll help you get to the bathroom.” She clarified, her smile never fading.

“Oh.” You said sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment spread across your cheeks.

Lady Dimitrescu slid her hands underneath your back and legs with surprising gentleness, effortlessly lifting you up as if you weighed nothing at all. Upon entering the bathroom, she set you down on the cool, tiled floor with care. The sensation of the tiles against your skin grounded you in the present moment, though your legs wobbled with residual weakness from the drugs still circulating through your system. Instinctively, you reached out and gripped the nearby toilet tank for support.

Lady Dimitrescu observed you with a faint, amused smile playing on her lips.

“Will you manage?” She inquired.

You nodded in response, the effort feeling more taxing than it should have.

“I’ll be here if you do require help.”

Lady Dimitrescu turned on her heel, her departure marked by the subtle swish of fabric and the resounding click of the door closing. Left alone in the quiet of the bathroom, you gathered your thoughts.

There was something seriously wrong with whatever drugs the Lady had given you. It seemed to linger stubbornly in your system, refusing to dissipate. Everything in your body felt out of sync and unreliable. Even the slightest movement sent a jolt of discomfort through your nerves, like static electricity sparking beneath your skin. The fact that she refused to tell you why she drugged you frustrated you to no end as well. It was a complex puzzle, one that you were determined to solve despite the obstacles in your path.

Letting out a deep sigh, you pulled down your pajama pants and underwear.

Wait.

Since when were you placed in pajamas?

The realization hits you like a disorienting wave. Nausea roiled in your stomach at the thought of being undressed and exposed before the Lady's eyes. With a shaky breath, you tried to recall how you ended up in these clothes, but the memory remained elusive.

You closed your eyes and opened the toilet lid, lowering yourself onto the seat. Each drop felt like a release, a small but tangible sign that you still retained some control over yourself despite everything else going on with your body. With a sense of relief, you stood up slowly and dragged your sleepwear up, feeling the ache in your muscles protesting the movement.

After flushing the toilet, you made your way over to the sink, the floor cool beneath your bare feet. Keeping one hand pressed against the tiled wall for support, you moved slowly, each step a deliberate effort to maintain your balance. Leaning heavily on the sink, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the image unfamiliar and distant. Lines of exhaustion were etched across your face, and your eyes, once bright, now seemed dulled by fatigue. With a shaky hand, you reached for the faucet, turning it on until the water flowed cold. Droplets splashed into the porcelain basin as you washed your hands methodically. Cupping your hands under the stream, you gathered some water and splashed it over your face, feeling the shock of cold against your skin.

Leaning closer to the mirror, you inspected your reflection once more, noting the way the water droplets clung to your skin like tiny jewels.

The bathroom door swung open just then and you jumped, startled by the sudden intrusion. Lady Dimitrescu entered, her towering figure eclipsing the doorway.

“Are you done?” She asked impatiently.

“Yes, my Lady.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lady Dimitrescu stepped over to you, her heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor, and picked you up by your waist. She exited the bathroom with you in her arms, and you couldn’t help but stiffen as you spotted Bela standing by the edge of the bed, her expression blank.

As Lady Dimitrescu rounded the bed, your heart froze at what you saw.

Resting on the nightstand was a tray meticulously arranged with a few medical instruments. On it was an empty glass vial, a slender needle, and a thin strip of cloth neatly folded. Your mind raced with questions, each one more urgent than the last. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat betraying your rising panic.

“What’s going on?” Your voice quivered with anxiety.

For a moment, Lady Dimitrescu remained silent, her gaze holding yours as she laid you back onto the bed. Something unreadable flickered in her eyes. She then turned to her eldest daughter who stood silently by, her posture rigid yet composed, awaiting instruction.

“Make the preparations.”

“Yes, mother.” Bela responded obediently.

She stepped around her mother and picked up the strip of cloth off the tray. Panic surged within you as you watched Bela approach, clutching it in her hand.

“Please, tell me what's going on?” You pleaded, your voice wobbling in fear and confusion.

“Not now, dear.” Lady Dimitrescu dismissed your concern with a wave of her hand, her attention fixed on the task at hand.

Bela moved closer to you, her presence unsettling. She wrapped the thin cloth around your bicep, which you now realized was a makeshift tourniquet. You flinched away involuntarily.

“No! Stop! Why are you doing this to me!?” You protested, your voice rising in desperation.

Lady Dimitrecu glared at you, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. “Pet,” she warned sharply. “Behave.”

You trembled in place, your body betraying your fear despite your attempts to stand firm. Bela stood nearby, arching an unamused eyebrow at you.

“She’s becoming quite mouthy.” Bela remarked, her tone dripping with condescension.

Her gaze swept over you, assessing and judgmental, making you feel like a specimen under a microscope.

Lady Dimitrescu huffed in response, her lips curling into a faint smirk. “She’s been quite feisty since this morning.”

There was a note of amusement in her voice, as if your defiance was a source of mild entertainment for her. However, her smirk quickly faded, replaced by a look of irritation as she regarded you once more.

Bela reached out and grabbed your left arm with a sudden, vice-like grip. Shocked, you instinctively tried to pull away, but before you could even react, Lady Dimitrescu’s massive hand descended upon your chest, a weighty pressure that pinned you firmly in place. Her other hand wrapped around your forearm and kept it still, the strength in her grip unmistakable.

You struggled under her hold, but she didn’t even budge an inch. Your muscles strained and protested, but it was like fighting against a statue. Every attempt to wrench free only resulted in a tighter hold, her strength far surpassing yours. Lady Dimitrescu’s expression remained calm and composed despite your frantic efforts.

“That’s enough, pet,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice cut through the air, stern and commanding. “You will lie there and cease your foolish struggling.”

Bela stepped forward once more and wrapped the tourniquet around your bicep. The material bit into your skin, creating a tight pressure that made your veins begin to stand out prominently. She turned around momentarily and retrieved something else off the tray. The clinking of metal on metal sent a jolt of fear through you. When she turned back to face you, her eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

Bela raised the needle, its gleaming point coupled with the glass vial attached to its back, and brought it dangerously close to the delicate crease of your elbow. The nearby candlelight lent a sinister glint to the needle's sharp tip, making it appear even more menacing against the dim surroundings. You tried to pull away, but the Lady’s firm grip on your forearm held you in place.

Your breathing quickened as the needle drew closer. Each breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, your chest heaving erratically. The bedroom seemed to shrink around you, your vision tunneling on the approaching needle.

“No…” You whimpered.

The needle now hovered an inch away from your skin, the anticipation almost unbearable.

Bela’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, a fleeting moment of contact that made goosebumps rise across your flesh. Her gaze was cold and calculating, cutting through the haze of fear with razor-sharp precision. Slowly, deliberately, the corners of her lips tugged upward into a cruel smile, revealing a flash of ivory teeth. Then, the needle was inserted into your skin, puncturing through one of your veins with a sharp sting. You winced, the pain a sudden and unwelcome shock that made you suck in a breath. Blood immediately started filling the glass vial, drawn by the vacuum within.

Bela's gaze focused on the vial as the dark red stream spiraled and swirled in a mesmerizing, almost hypnotic quality. As the vial neared its capacity, she removed the tourniquet in a swift, smooth motion. The sudden release of pressure caused a faint prickling sensation to travel up your arm, like tiny sparks igniting under your skin.

Lady Dimitrescu let out a satisfied hum. “Such a vibrant hue.”

Her gaze lingered on the sight of your blood with a fascination that bordered on reverence. Each crimson drop that filled the glass vial seemed to captivate her. There must have been enough blood in the vial as Bela swiftly removed the needle from your arm. The sudden movement caused a small stream of blood to trickle from the puncture wound. It ran down the side of your arm, leaving a warm, sticky trail behind. Both women’s eyes shone brighter at the sight of your blood, their pupils dilating in predatory anticipation.

Time seemed to slow as you felt the weight of Lady Dimitrescu’s gaze settle upon you like a heavy cloak. Despite the elegance in her posture and the refinement in her features, there was an undeniable danger lurking beneath the surface, a reminder of her primal nature that unnerved you.

She released her grip on your forearm just then, her fingers trailing across your skin in a lingering caress that left a burning sensation in their wake. The touch was both tender and possessive.

“We can’t allow such precious essence to go to waste.” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

She leaned down, her mouth hovering just above the bleeding spot. Her breath, warm and teasing, brushed against your skin, sending a tingling sensation throughout your body. Her eyes bore into yours, dark and intense, holding you captive in a moment that stretched on endlessly.

Then, her tongue darted out, tracing the path of your blood with deliberate slowness. The contrast between the cool, wet touch of her tongue and the warmth of your blood sent a shiver down your spine. Your response caused Lady Dimitrescu to moan; a deep, throaty sound that made your throat go dry. The intensity of the Lady’s reaction was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

Bela's lower lip was caught between her teeth as she observed her mother lap up the blood from your arm, her own desire mirrored in her eyes. Her gaze remained fixed, unwavering, as if she couldn't tear herself away from the sight of your blood.

Lady Dimitrescu finally pulled back once the small amount of blood was licked clean off your arm. She ran her tongue over her lips, a gesture both languid and predatory, savoring the lingering taste.

“You taste absolutely delectable, my dear.” Lady Dimitrescu purred, her voice low and velvety.

Your eyes widened in both astonishment and apprehension, unsure of how to react to the odd compliment.

Bela took a moment to recover from the unexpected sight, her breath catching slightly as she composed herself. Lady Dimitrescu turned slightly to acknowledge her daughter, her expression softening imperceptibly in a rare display of maternal warmth.

“Thank you, Bela. You may go.”

“Of course, mother.” Bela replied breathlessly.

Her gaze briefly met yours before she quickly turned to leave the bedroom, the delicate glass vial full of your blood held securely in her hand. The atmosphere shifted once more as the heavy door closed behind Bela with a resounding thud. Lady Dimitrescu turned her attention back to you.

“You’ve slept throughout most of the day. I suppose you must be hungry.” She said plainly.

The casualness of her tone contrasted sharply with the unease growing inside of you.

Is she seriously going to act like nothing just happened?

You met her gaze, searching for any hint of an explanation, but found none. The answer to why burned within you, a nagging question demanding a resolution.

Taking a deep breath, you blurted out, “Why did you have my blood taken?”

The seconds stretched into an uncomfortable silence as Lady Dimitrescu regarded you with an unreadable look. Her eyes, usually sharp and penetrating, now seemed veiled.

“I have my reasons,” she finally replied. “I’d prefer to have you not know until you’re at a point in which I believe you are ready.”

Her response offered no solace, only adding to the growing sense of dread that coiled within you.

“Ready for what?” You pressed, unable to contain the urgency in your voice.

“Enough questions. It’s time for you to have dinner.” Lady Dimitrescu’s response was curt, dismissive even.

The abrupt change in topic and tone left you reeling. You clenched your teeth, fighting the urge to scream and swear at her. Time was slipping away, each second ticking by like a countdown to an unknown fate. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you resigned yourself to the current moment.

For now, you’ll comply with her demand while figuring out your next move.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil village #resident evil fanfic #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil 8

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