#His hand in yours. just a little further. take heart Beloved you're almost there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heart-of-the-morningstar · 10 months ago

Note

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #lucifer smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #writing prompt #my writing #this was meant to be a cute short thing but i can never stop myself lmao #my signature is just posting goofy faces of Lucifer to remind everyone this is who we’re thirsting over

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hsr-writing · 2 months ago

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kinktober - day four - knife play

moze x reader, nsfw, minors dni. light bondage, blindfolds, trust as a kink, lingerie. gender not specified.

Moze is always careful with you. It took you a bit to notice, mostly because learning to read his body language took effort, but now that you know him it's so clear. Moze doesn't treat you like glass, doesn't try to coddle you, but he does treat you like something precious.

You trust him unconditionally, which is why you felt comfortable asking this of him.

The first time you brought it up was over a lazy breakfast, the both of you having a rare mutual day off. Moze starts his day long before you, but he still finds or makes time to be domestic with you. It comes out absently over a cup of coffee and leftover steamed buns.

"What do you think about bringing a knife into bed?"

Moze's too good to choke on his drink, but he looks up at you sharply, expressionless and yet so, so bewildered.

"...What?" He asks flatly, and you realize maybe you should have eased into it. Ah well.

You set your coffee down, giving him your full attention and a reassuring smile. "A knife, beloved," you tease, reaching over the table to link your pinky with his, comforting.

"You know I like being afraid, like feeling like I'm in danger," you tell him, firm but gentle. He does know this, the two of you have more than explored that kind of thing before, and he gives you a nod.

There's something tense in his shoulders, a flint of steel in his gaze, and you find yourself smiling adoringly. "I'm not asking you to hurt me," you assure, and watch that tension melt away. "It's just that I trust you, I know you'd never hurt me."

He looks down at your linked pinkies and you give him time to think, to process the idea. After a few minutes, he squeezes his pinky around yours, and you smile.

"...I'm definitely thinking about it now," he grumbles, taking a sip of his drink to avoid talking about it further. His pale cheeks are slightly flushed, and you can't help but grin.

The knife is cold against your flushed skin, your head tilted back as Moze pulls your hair, exposing your neck. He runs the flat of his knife down your neck, and the feeling sends a shudder down your spine.

You have no idea if the knife is sharp or not. You asked him not to tell you.

Your hands are bound above your head, tied firmly to the headboard, and you're blindfolded, the combination making your heart race with anticipation. Everything he does feels so much more, your skin feeling almost hypersensitive.

Moze moves silently, leaving the little fear that he might have left lingering up until the cool touch of the blade makes you flinch. He trails the tip of the knife from your hip up to your chest, then your heart skips as he turns the knife and slices through the lacy top of your lingerie.

It's real, then. Fuck.

A gloved hand thumbs over your nipple, making you gasp and arching into his touch instinctively. Cold metal presses against your chest as Moze rumbles, "Don't move."

You freeze, heart racing as you comply, obey, be good for your lover. He hums in approval, and then he's straddling your thighs. He gently tilts your chin up, then you feel the press of the blade against your throat. You whimper, want pulsing in your stomach as you shiver.

He takes his time with you, groping your chest and teasing your nipples until you're a desperate mess, struggling so hard to be good and not move. You want more, want to bed him to fuck you, but all you can do is gasp and moan and not squirm.

But Moze knows you well.

He lightly taps your shoulder twice, a question if you need to break the scene to talk, and you knock on the headboard twice in response. He hums, something low and pleased, then he's moving.

Things are a blur of sensation and pleasure, and the next time you can put together a half coherent though, Moze has you spread open for him, fucking into you as he presses the flat of the blade over your nipple and makes you keen.

You can feel lube dripping down your ass, hear the loud, lewd squelching of him fucking you. It makes your eyes roll under the blindfold, your mouth hanging open as you moan and whine and gasp his name.

It's everything you imagined and more.

#post.txt #hsr x reader #hsr moze x reader #hsr moze #moze x reader #hsr smut #moze smut #hsr kinktober

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starlightsearches · 9 months ago

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Hi Star! Huge congratulations on your 2k milestone - it is so well deserved!!

Could I possibly get "Let's Hear it for the Boy" with our beloved ginger general?

Thank you so much and congrats again!!

Drunk / In Love

Track 3: Let's Hear It for the Boy by Deniece Williams - Give me a character and I'll write a short blurb or headcanons on how they would want you to show them that you love them.

General Hux x F! Reader / 📼 ✨ mixtape milestone ✨ 📼

Thanks for the request, my love! Sorry it took me so long!

The idiots from these two stories are back again. Sorry I'm obsessed with them (I'm not sorry at all). Warnings for some minor sexual content and weird consent issues!

Phasma said you were drunk.

What she failed to mention was how—how drunk you were, or how you ended up that way. It was only supposed to be a friendly dinner when Hux first suggested it (and didn't stop suggesting it until Phasma finally gave in).

He thought if you made connections here—even just one—that it might make you more comfortable being with him on this ship, and so far from anything familiar.

Although this might be too familiar.

He reaches the door to Phasma's quarters and they glide open automatically, programmed to recognize his approach. He sees Phasma seated at the table, out of uniform, a smirk playing on her wine-stained mouth.

Armitage is not prepared for the dark flash in his peripherals, or the arms around his neck.

Your embrace frightens him, and that alone is enough to leave him feeling hot, stomach swimming, even when he recognizes your touch on instinct. It has him weak at the knees, just this, has his heart in his throat as all the alarm and panic well up inside him, threatening to spill out.

Then your lips meet his.

There's been a handful of almost-affectionate moments shared between you. The brush of your hand as you wished him goodbye one morning. A kiss on the cheek that missed its target, landing at the edge of his lips.

But nothing like this.

Hux can feel your mouth shift against his, lips turning up at the corners, and the little laugh that passes through them—maybe at the way his hands hang limply at his sides, or the crop of perspiration blooming at his collar from the warmth of your skin, the smell of you. He can't make himself kiss you back, although he wants to.

He really, really wants to.

There's no malice in your eyes when you pull away—Armitage doesn't think you're capable of malice. You smile at him sweetly, taking his hands in both of yours.

"I missed you," you tell him, each word bleeding into the next, eyes half-lidded and hazy from whatever you'd been drinking, "did you miss me?"

"I- uh, yes," he answers—unavoidably honest—his eyes flitting towards Phasma, who's so pleased with herself it practically drips from her, hanging heavier on her shoulders than the armour she usually wears.

A hot anger floods through his stomach, spiked with acrid shame. He doesn’t need any witnesses to his inept attempts at marriage.

Your smile widens, every facet of you bursting with delight knowing that he’s missed you in the hours since you last spoke his name, and then he’s back in your embrace, the sound of sweet laughter in his ear.

He reaches out for something to brace himself on, and finds nothing. It takes everything in him to keep standing.

Armitage peels your arms from around his neck, putting a desperate inch of distance between himself and the press of your body.

"Why don't we let the captain get some rest?" he asks.

Your enthusiasm at the suggestion turns his stomach into knots.

He's able to usher you through the empty halls at a speed just short of a jog, one hand at your waist to keep you from stumbling, and the other wrapped firmly around your wrist to stop any further attempts at touching him.

And, though he can’t puzzle it out just yet—with the warmth of you still against him—he knows something is wrong with you. Something that wine alone could not bring on.

Armitage knows you don’t want him. Not like this.

Yet you practically drag him through the doors of your quarters, mouth planted against his before the mechanical lock whirs into place.

All the desire in him makes him sick—feverish and weak. His body shudders against yours, nerves trying to break through skin at the gentleness of your touch.

“Armitage,” you whine, pouty in a way he’s never heard before—always so polite and obliging when you’re sober, “kiss me back.”

He couldn’t refuse you, even if he wanted to, even though he knows it would be better for both of you—knows the way this memory will torture him endlessly, until the moment he dies. Maybe long after that.

But still, he cups your face in shaking hands, and presses his uncertain lips to yours.

And it’s nothing like all the times he’s thought about this—about taking you, feeling the warmth of your breath mingling with his own, pulling you tight against him with his arm at your waist and kissing, kissing, kissing you, until he tires of the feeling, until he rids himself of all his hideous need to be loved and to be wanted.

It’s nothing like he imagined because he’s terrified. Because he can’t manage to move the ways he wants to, tripping over his feet when you stumble deeper into his chambers. Because his stomach roils at the feel of your tongue against his stubbornly closed mouth, and his arms shake with the need to move, but his hands stay where he placed them, holding hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer with enough force that part of him wonders if he’s hurting you.

And still, your mouth on his, your wandering, eager hands.

The room spins; Armitage’s reason leaves him when his feet lift from the floor, your body underneath him, and below that the cushion of his bed molding you together.

Still kissing. Still you. Your hand, guiding his down the thrumming pulse of your neck, lower. Lower.

Armitage is on the other side of the bed before the thought of how wrong what he has done truly registers, his feet planted and one hand pushing back the fallen strands of his hair.

“Armitage?”

He curses the day you learned his name, curses the ill, vile part of him that wants to go back.

He clears his throat and finds it doesn’t steady him at all.

“You- you should get some rest, I think.”

Your movements are clumsy as you crawl to him on your knees, fighting against the thick bedspread and the fabric of your skirt. There’s a little huff on your lips when you reach him, eyes big and wide and brimming with glistening tears.

“Why don’t you want me?” you whisper, and tears well up to their breaking point, slipping down your cheeks.

Fuck. He wants to touch you, and knows it’s a terrible idea, palms aching beneath the leather he wears and hates—now more than ever when it keeps him from you. His hand reaches out against his will, hovering just out of reach of your skin and the tears he can’t manage to wipe away because, once again, he is the cause of all your suffering.

“You’re- you’re drunk, darling. You’ll feel better if you just-”

“No,” you tell him, pushing his hand away with your own, “why don’t you want me ever?”

Oh, gods. Armitage recoils like you’ve slapped him, the sting of those words and what they mean destroying everything—every moment he’s agonized over since he first saw you and knew you had to be his.

“You . . . you can’t possibly believe that.”

You nod your head, fists curled at your sides petulantly, and your stubbornness would make him laugh, if it weren’t so sad.

“I do,” he whispers, then swallows, reaching for your hand. You let him take it. It gives him something to look at, watching your elegant fingers intertwine with his. “I do, but I—”

How much of this will you remember? Even now, the idea of revealing this soft, vulnerable part of him strikes fear into his very core, has him wishing he could run, wishing he could escape the way your eyes flay him wide open.

Your hand against his chest, he can feel his own heartbeat meet the shapes of your fingertips, molding to you. Armitage meets your gaze, and as frightening as it is, there’s no part of him that could deny how deeply he craves it.

“Please forgive me,” he stutters, and there aren't words for him to explain everything he needs to, just the truth. “I am—oh, gods—I am a ruinous man.”

He watches you, the muscles working in your jaw, the way your brows pull together, examining him, weighing the assessment of himself that he’s offered to you.

“No,” you tell him, “no you’re not.”

He thinks you might kiss him again, as close as you are. Close enough for him to count each of your lashes, map the constellations you’ve hidden in your eyes.

You drop to the mattress instead, and the look you give him has him holding back a laugh, the mix of stubbornness and grudging deference that has Armitage wondering how hard it’s been for you to play at obedience in your union.

“You should change,” he tells you, just resting on the edge of the bed, “you’ll be more comfortable.”

It’s easier to talk to you when you’re like this. It has Armitage feeling like he’s the one intoxicated, and he is, in a way. Because what if this is your most honest self?

He didn’t think you could make him love you any deeper, but you’ve managed.

“Don’t care,” you mumble into the pillows, trying to brush him away with a waving hand. He takes it in his own.

“You’ll ruin your dress.”

There’s a look of intense focus on your face, and he wonders if you’ll refuse again. Maybe you don’t care about the dress either, although Armitage would be disappointed. It’s one of his favorites from your incredibly extensive wardrobe—a beautiful black and cream confection that always catches his eye.

But you shift instead, turning to look up at him. “Kiss me.”

Stars, not again. Not now, when the weakest parts of him are so palpable. “I- I don’t-”

You flop into a sitting position, hold a single finger up between your faces.

“One kiss,” you concede, “okay?”

He nods, despite himself. You wait patiently for his approach, still and hardly breathing through your parted lips as he slides closer. Armitage keeps his eyes open, and so do you, heavy as they are, watching the distance between your faces fade into nothing.

It’s not like the other times he’s kissed you, although all but one had happened only a few moments ago. You let him set the pace, his lips just barely brushing your own, a sigh bubbling up from deep inside his lungs. He can only offer a little more pressure before he’s lightheaded again, little bursts of light dancing across his vision.

He pulls back from what could hardly be called a kiss, and waits for your disappointment, for your insistence that he try again, that there must be something more, or better, that he’s kept from you.

Armitage doesn’t want you to know that there’s nothing else to hope for.

You don’t say a word about it though. Just flop your arms out in front of you, waiting, satisfied in your demands.

“Help me.”

And it passes like that, with more bribes in the form of barely-there presses of his lips to yours—a kiss for you to raise your arms as he slips something soft and oversized over your head, a kiss for you to clumsily remove the dress from underneath. A kiss to get you to leave him for a moment while he changed into his own night clothes after you’d begged and begged for him to spend the night beside you, and a kiss upon his return.

It feels like a lifetime of kisses to Armitage. He doesn’t know what that number would be for anyone else, but you’ve certainly exceeded it for him. He could die in his sleep tonight and have more than he ever deserved.

And now you’re curled up beside him a hand at his waist, your head on his chest. Armitage breathes, but only barely, hoping he won’t wake you.

The tension drains from him, his body the closest it’s been to relaxed in ages. He wonders if he should ask Phasma to invite you to dinner again.

He hopes the next time he kisses you, you'll be sober enough to remember it.

#armitage hux #armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x reader #general hux x you #my writing #starlightsearches mixtape milestone 📼

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cloudzoro · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Love your work, you are incredibly talented! I especially liked the Shuggy piece, I think I’ve read it like 5 times lol. If you’re still taking requests, I think Jinbe with 11 and/or 39 would be pretty cool. Thanks so much for the fun reads!

Hiii!!!! I'm so so so glad that you enjoy my work.vmy shuggy x reader is also a fave of mine so I'm happy to see others enjoy it ♡. Also thanks for the jinbe request! my man doesn't receive enough love! I'm a bit in my feelings so I went with prompt 39 🤧

39 - comfort sex

cw: fem!reader, mention of jinbe having 2 cocks, size kink, husband jinbe because jinbe is so husband core, unprotected sex,

Husband Duties | Jinbe ♡

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

you're feeling down after a fight so your husband helps you feel better

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Married life has always suited Jinbe. He thrives when he has someone to take care of. He's reading when you, his beloved wife, swing open the door and lay down on the bed next to him.

“I'm so tired”, you whine, pushing your face into the pillows. Jinbe puts his book down, turning to give you all his attention. You're exhausted from the most recent fight. You're mostly injury-free, but all your muscles are sore.

“Do you need anything, my love?” he asks, hand trailing over your back. You nod, tucking yourself against him. The fight was particularly rough; you fucked up severely, almost getting yourself killed and causing Jinbe to leave his post to save you. You're usually a solid fighter; your husband or one of your crew having to rescue you is a rare occurrence. Your pride is wounded, and you're wallowing in insecurity.

“My back hurts a little,” you say. Jinbe doesn't need you to elaborate. He helps you to undress and adjusts the way that he's sitting so that he can press his hands into your shoulders. He works hard to distress you. Your husband's strong hands drain your body of all the stress it's harbouring until there's nothing less but raw emotions. Tears fall silently down your cheeks as you release all the pent-up frustration. Despite your cries being silent, Jinbe notices immediately.

“What's wrong, my Dear?” he asks, turning you over. “What can I do to make it better?” Your heart clenches at your husband's concern for you, but there's a much more distracting ache in your body you'd rather deal with first. Despite your distress, massages were often used as foreplay for the two of you, and you can't help the way your mind has wandered.

“It's just all my stress depleting, which means you did a good job with your massage. There is something you can do for me though”

“And what's that?” he asks, already having an inkling about what you're going to say next.

“That massage got me all worked up. I want you to touch me.”

When you first started dating, your straightforwardness had flustered Jinbe, but now it just makes him hard. Your mouth is dirtier than his, and he's obsessed with it. He nods, returning to his massage. He moves his hands down to your thighs, rubbing at the skin there. He's so close to your pussy that it makes you squirm. He chuckles at your movement, causing you to groan. “please don't tease me; I'm so wet.”

Jinbe can't say no to his little wife. He moves his massage between your legs, rubbing at your clit. He pushes a finger into your soaked hole, and you moan out at the feeling. Your husband is huge. He has to work you up to his cock. It's been a few years since you married, yet you still struggle to take him. He adds another finger, curling and scissoring them inside you. You need him so badly. He eagerly fingers you open. He whispers praises as your pussy pulses around his thick fingers.

You cum on his fingers, legs clamping shut around his hand. He works you through it, keeping his fingers moving as his gaze remains locked on your face. You can feel the love in his gaze as your chest heaves in exhaustion. Your orgasm does little to quell your weary mind, and in desperate need of further distraction, you claw at his arms.

“Please, Jinbe, I need your cock”, You say. He nods, fully undressing himself to match you. You feel your mouth watering at the site of his cocks. Being a shark fishman, he has two. Though you've only been able to successfully take both twice in your relationship, one of those times being on your wedding night. He knows you wouldn't be able to take both right now, so he settles on flipping you onto your hands and knees and lining up one of his cocks with your hole. He slowly pushes in, working himself inside you with shallow thrusts. He gently covers your mouth with his hand to stop your moans from waking up the rest of the crew.

Jinbe finally bottoms out and pauses inside you, relishing in how you feel around him, also giving you time to adjust. He drapes himself over, and you whimper at the realisation of how big he really is. Your husband is so sweet to you that it's easy to forget he's a former warlord of the sea. It isn't until he's got you trapped beneath him that you remember how powerful he is. While scary to others, it makes you feel safe and secure to know you have him lingering around you at all times.

“ What happened earlier wasn't your fault, sweetheart. You don't have to be so worked up over it,” he says as he starts to move his hips. Of course, he saw through your white lie. Jinbe is both patient and observant; nothing gets past him. “You're so strong.” His voice is as sure as ever as he squashes your worries with each heavy thrust. He reaches around you to press against your lower stomach. “can you feel me in there?” he asks. The sensation of him pressing against his own cock through your tummy is weird, but it feels so good. You're all but screaming into Jinbe's hand when a well-angled thrust sends you head-first into your orgasm. It crashes over you in waves, making your whole body tremble. Jinbe can't keep himself together anymore and cums too, filling you up with his seed.

“Thank you”, you whine as he rolls off of you and grabs tissues from the bedside table to clean you up.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks, laying down beside you and pulling you on top of him to rest. You nod, too exhausted to give him a response. All fucked out and cuddled up in your husband's arms, you fall asleep in minutes. Jinbe smiles, knowing he'll be there to chase away all the nasty thoughts clouding your beautiful mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn

thank you so much for reading! comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡♡♡♡

#EVERYONE LOOK AT MY BIG BLUE HUSBAND #I LOVE HIM #one piece x reader #one piece smut #fem!reader #jinbe x reader #jinbe smut

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mountainficss · 11 months ago

Text

irresistible • jung wooyoung

ir·re·sist· I ·ble

/ˌi(r)rəˈzistəb(ə)l/

too attractive and tempting to be resisted.

WORD COUNT: 1396

SWITCH!Reader + SWITCH!Wooyoung

WARNINGS: orgasm denial, slight degradation, teasing, groping, hair pulling, biting, oral (m. receiving), marking, multiple orgasms, pet names/nicknames, overstimulation, dry humping

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He was driving you insane.

Just as you were about to regain focus on your surplus of work emails, your beloved boyfriend would appear behind you yet again, groping, caressing, feeling every inch of your skin from behind your desk chair. He had been teasing you all night, not letting you avert your attention from him for even a second. You tried your best to shoo him away to no avail. Your protests meant nothing to him, he found amusement in getting you worked up. "Wooyoung please, I really need to f-finish this work," you mumbled as he gathered your hair and moved it to one side, beginning to press wet kisses on the exposed part of your neck. "What's wrong, precious? Don't let me distract you," he purrs, sensually rubbing his hands up and down your arms. His touch gave you goosebumps, and he smirked knowing the effect he had on you. You felt your skin heating, slightly rubbing your thighs together for some relief. You felt your arousal pooling out of your entrance. "C'mon baby, keep working~" He teases. You could practically hear him grinning, reaching your hands to your keyboard to begin typing once again with shaking hands. His kisses were making your thoughts fuzzy, eyes almost rolling into the back of your head from the slight touch. He reached his hand around your chair to squish and rub your thigh, making you snap. You had had enough of his distractions, and you were determined to teach him a lesson. You stood up without warning, whipping around to face him and grabbing him by his shirt collar. "Jung Wooyoung, I'm sick of your teasing."

He looked at you with widened eyes as you spun him around and pushed him to sit in your chair. You straddled his lap and ran your fingers slowly through his hair, lips approaching his ear. "Now it's your turn." You whispered threateningly, nipping at the shell of his ear. He whimpered under you, finally getting the attention he wanted from you for hours. He snaked his hands around you to grip your waist. Before he could lay a finger on you, you smacked his hands away.

"No touching. You've done enough of that while I was supposed to be working, you little brat. Keep your hands down." You spoke sternly. He obeyed immediately, placing his hands on the arms of the chair. You scoffed at his sudden obedience, yanking his hair and sucking harshly on his neck. You quickly pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his toned chest. "God, you're such a brat sometimes, but I can't keep my hands off you. You're irresistible," you mumbled into his skin. You slowly circled your hips onto his boner, giving you both some relief. He whined loudly, trying not to buck his hips upward into your clothed core. Your chest was pressed against his, and you could feel his heart beating rapidly. "Please let me touch," he pleaded, his whiny voice music to your ears. You were finally giving him a taste of his own medicine. "I'll be good, I really need you! Wanna feel you..."

You ignored him, chuckling darkly at his pathetic pleads. You pressed your hips down with more force, grinding harder onto his half-clothed body and moaning quietly in his ear to provoke him further. "Baby, please," he cried. "I want you so bad. I've wanted you all day. Please don't tease anymore." You yanked his hair again, harder this time, bringing a moan from his lips.

"You should have fucking thought about that before you teased me first, precious." You seethed. His begging continued, your chest filling with pride knowing you could make him this needy. You slid off his lap onto the floor, taking a moment to look up at him. He was a flushed mess, his forehead covered in beads of sweat, his lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling quickly in a poor attempt to catch his breath. His eyes met your own, giving you a look of pure lust. He looked ethereal.

Your hands reached up to teasingly play with the strings of his sweatpants, keeping his gaze and slowly untying the perfect knot. His breath hitched as you pulled them down along with his boxers, his dick springing free. You gave his tip light kitten licks, his hips bucking up at the sudden pleasure. He let out the lewdest moans you've ever heard, his face contorting in pleasure. A small pearl of precum leaked from his tip, making you giggle.

"Ah, baby, I've barely touched you and you're already cumming?" You taunted. He moaned loudly and flinched as you kissed his tip, a string of the sweet liquid connecting your lips and his length. You wrapped your hands around him, pumping him up and down painfully slowly. You then attached your lips, taking his head into your wet cavern. His legs began shaking violently, his filthy sounds reverberating around the room. His hands clenched into fists and unclenched over and over again, trying their best to stay in place like you had asked him. Your head bobbed up and down as your hands twisted around his dick, overwhelming Wooyoung with pleasure. "Please—f-fuck, I'm gonna cum," he whimpers as you feel his dick twitching in your mouth. At his words you removed your mouth, barely stroking him and denying his orgasm. He cried out in pain and pleasure, his head falling backward. "Fuck, please don't stop! I need you so bad, I need to cum," he wailed, his dick throbbing in your hands. "Your mouth...so warm..."

You smiled evilly. "You won't tease me anymore, will you precious?" You questioned, stopping your strokes and waiting for an answer.

"I won't, I won't I promise! Please, you feel so good around me! God, I need you..." He trails, rambling. Your hands continue to stroke him again, this time faster. "You're right, I am your god. Such a fucking slut." You degraded. He whimpered loudly, the degradation seeming to turn him on even more. You placed your hands on his knees, taking his entire length into your mouth and sucking harshly. The feeling of your warm mouth around his angry erection and the wet sounds of you sucking him off quickly brought him closer to his high. He writhed under you, the sight of you with his dick down your throat driving him completely insane. "Fuck, I'm close!" He warned, praying you would let him finish. You removed your mouth from him only to bring both of your hands to stroke him quickly, finally uttering the words he so desperately needed to hear. "Cum for me~"

Not even seconds after Wooyoung was given permission, he had released all over your hands and his abdomen with a loud groan, his hot seed painting his surroundings like a canvas. You continued stroking him as he let out sweet moans, helping him ride out his orgasm. After he had calmed down, you began licking up and down his semi-hard dick, overstimulating him. "Oh—God, fuck baby~!" He mewled as you licked the cum off of his length, his body shaking and hastily approaching another orgasm. You could hear his fingernails scratching at the arms of the chair, he was feeling so good because of you. You engulfed him once more as he throbbed in your mouth and released a second time from the overstimulation. He released high-pitched moans and cries as you swallowed his second load, removing your mouth with a pop. He slumped into the chair, breathing heavily as sweat trickled down his gorgeous face. You rose to sit on his lap again, gently cupping his face and planting a small kiss on his cheek. "I'm really sorry, Woo, was I too hard on you?" You questioned worriedly, feeling guilty. He let out a shaky laugh, arms wrapping around you and holding you close. "God, no. I felt so good because of you, please don't apologize," he breathed, chest still heaving. His body was slightly trembling from the two powerful orgasms you gave him. "I didn't expect you to dominate me like that," he admits, making your cheeks heat in embarrassment. "I liked it." He grinned, rubbing your back soothingly. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, cheeks heating up even more.

"But next time," he continued. "I'm taking control, baby."

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#ateez smut #wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez x reader #ateez fic #ateez wooyoung #ateez imagines #mountainficss

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elysiaheaven · 1 month ago

Note

Artist/Writer Reader dedicating every work they have about ronin so they won't forget what he looks like or how it felt being with him after the end where you kill him

PAINTING HIM-RONIN X G.N READER

Words:3000!

Genre: Gore

Summary: Artist/Writer Reader dedicating every work they have about ronin so they won't forget what he looks like or how it felt being with him after the end where you kill him

( Reader is a g.n!)

TW: Graphic Violence, Murder, Death, Obsession, Body Horror, Necrophilia, Mental Illness, Gore

EXTRA: He's a character from a game named Killer chat! Please play it! It's so good! I think I need to do more research on him, If what I wrote doesn't really scream him! I'm sorry! I'm still learning abt him! P.S: This is actually gore! DNI IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE!

EDIT: I'M SORRY KILLER CHAT FANS! i may or may not have killed...ehe-

Killed, The first victim was her. Angel from...light!

Every canvas, every page soaked with the remnants of his memory—your brush digs into the mess of blood and flesh, dragging gore across the surface like a mourner desperate to stitch together what’s left of a corpse. Each stroke feels like bringing him back, just a little. Enough to stop him from slipping into the abyss of time, where he can’t taunt you, mock you, or offer that crooked grin that made your heart freeze.

You killed Ronin, his broken body slumped at your feet, and yet the thought of forgetting what he looked like haunts you more than the kill itself. You see the blood like paint, the spilled viscera like ink—so you dedicate everything to him. If you don’t, his face will blur into oblivion, and that cannot happen. He would never forgive you for that.

The first canvas? Angel. His beloved friend. You gutted her. Her blood became the first pigment—thick, clotted, beautiful. Ronin would have loved the poetry of it, wouldn't he? Your hands, trembling from grief, steady themselves as you dip your brush into the pools of red and guts. The painting begins to form—his plum-colored hair, the way his lips curled when he teased you, how his maroon gaze sharpened whenever he saw an opportunity to push someone just a bit further into the darkness. His beanie, slightly You commit everything to the canvas in gruesome detail, as if carving his likeness from memory would bring him back to life.

But it’s not enough. One painting turns into ten, then twenty. Your studio becomes a shrine to his twisted charm, each artwork more grotesque than the last. Organs splayed out to recreate the color palettes he loved—dark reds, bruised purples, blackened grays. Angel's heart serves as your finest brush, sinews and tendons stretched across frames like makeshift canvases. Her soul, too, is now part of his memory, like a sacrifice for the monster he was and the monster he made you.

Every painting captures him in different stages of your obsession. In some, he’s smirking, crowbar dangling casually from his hand, taunting you. In others, he’s resting—serene, perhaps even affectionate. You paint him kissing the top of your head, the way he used to do when he thought you wouldn’t notice. There’s one where his fingers ghost over your throat—a quiet reminder that he always liked having you at his mercy, even when he pretended otherwise. You paint him perfectly, obsessively, so he never truly leaves.

And the murders? They become necessary, part of the ritual. You take pieces of every victim—Angel’s entrails, another’s fingers, teeth, eyes—and add them to the art. Each painting becomes a testament to how he made you feel, the ecstasy and torment intertwined. The sensation of his hand brushing yours, the way your stomach twisted when he whispered something vile in your ear—these feelings, too, need preservation. And blood, with its rich crimson decay, is the only medium worthy enough to hold them.

You know he'd approve.

You can almost hear him, even now. “Go on, sweetheart,” his voice purrs in your mind, that mocking edge still laced with affection. “Make it worth it.”

And you do.

You keep painting, keep killing, because as long as you do— He’ll never truly be gone.

The painting calls to you. Not just any painting—this one will be your masterpiece. You can feel it bubbling beneath your skin, as if your very bones are whispering his name. It isn’t enough to remember him; you need to become him, need to smear his essence into every inch of this work so vividly that the line between flesh and art evaporates. The aorta you hold drips warm blood down your wrist, a perfect artery, pulsing faintly even though the life it belonged to has long since gone cold.

Angel’s aorta. It dangles from your hand like a macabre ribbon, the very lifeline she thought she’d use to avenge him. Poor girl. She thought she could stop you, that her hatred was righteous, that she’d be the one to punish you for taking her Ronin away. But she didn’t understand—he was never just hers. He was yours too.

And now, he’s yours forever.

You plunge the aorta into the canvas, dragging it down in jagged, sloppy strokes. The wet squelch makes you laugh—a crazed, broken laugh that bursts from your chest before you can stop it. You laugh because it feels good, because the scent of copper and rot makes your head spin with memories. His crooked smirk, the way his fingers would always brush too close to your pulse just to watch you squirm. “You’re mine,” you whisper, the words ripping from your throat in hysterics. You mean them now more than ever.

The blood pools at the base of the canvas, thick and sticky, making your shoes squelch on the ground. Your laughter rings in the empty room, wild and manic, as if you’re sharing the joke with him—because of course you are.

He’s still here. He never left.

You stagger back from the painting, breathless and exhilarated, and your eyes land on the fridge. The white appliance hums softly, a mundane noise in the middle of your grotesque symphony. Inside it, his body rests.

Or at least, the parts that still matter. His head, perfectly preserved in plastic wrap, the purple strands of his hair slick with congealed blood. His lips, frozen in that familiar, mocking grin, as if daring you to stop. His eyes, half-lidded, still seem to follow you, even in death.

And oh, he haunts you. He whispers in the back of your mind, each word curling like smoke. "Messy, babe. You're getting better, though. Sloppy little artist." "You having fun without me? How rude." "Aren’t you tired yet? No? Good. You’re just getting started."

The hallucinations—or memories?—make you laugh harder. You clutch your stomach, almost doubling over from the euphoria. It’s too funny. He’s gone, rotting in your fridge, but he owns every thought in your head. You painted him to keep him alive, to preserve the parts of him that matter. But you didn’t need the art to keep him, did you? He’s already inside you. You killed him, but he won.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand—only to smear blood across your cheek. The wet, coppery scent makes your pulse race faster. You swear you hear his laugh behind you, low and amused, like he’s standing right there, just out of sight.

"You’ll never be done with me," the voice purrs in your ear, too close, too real. You whip around, but nothing is there. Just the paintings, just the art—just him, in a thousand forms, staring back at you with every twisted canvas.

You stagger to the fridge again, the cold metal smooth under your blood-slick hands. You open the door slowly, reverently. His eyes meet yours. And they sparkle. For just a moment, you almost believe he’s alive again, smirking at you with that devil-may-care attitude that made you love—and hate—him in equal measure.

And then you do what any artist would do. You kiss his cold lips. Just a quick kiss—more out of habit than anything else. They taste like iron, like death, and you can’t help the grin spreading across your face. He’d find this so hilarious. He’d love it.

You slam the fridge door shut, the high of creation still buzzing in your skull. But you’re not done. Not yet. There’s always more to paint, more to kill, more to preserve.

And as you look at the latest canvas, streaked with Angel’s blood and organs, you know it’s not enough. You’ll need more victims. More paint. And if you have to rip the world apart to keep Ronin with you, then so be it.

After all, love like this demands sacrifice. And you’re more than willing to give it.

You step back, surveying your work, and the laughter bubbles up again, uncontrollable and manic. “Look at this masterpiece!” you shout into the empty studio, your voice echoing against the walls lined with grotesque canvases. Each one captures a piece of him, a fragment of the wild darkness that coursed through your veins when he was alive.

“You’d be so proud, Ronin! This is what you wanted, right?!” Your laughter is a twisted song, dripping with the madness that now defines you. The cacophony blends with the memories, echoing in your mind like the last haunting notes of his laughter—his mocking, delightful laughter that used to send shivers down your spine.

“More blood, more guts! We can’t let them forget you!” The absurdity of it all sends you spiraling further into hysteria. You clutch your sides as you stumble toward the fridge again, your fingers tinged with crimson. You swing the door open wide, and the cold air hits your face like a slap.

There he is, his head, his grin still somehow mocking you, as if he knows the chaos you’ve unleashed in the name of preserving his memory. You lean in close, and the chill of the fridge fills your lungs, mixing with the warm, iron scent of the blood and gore that now saturates your very being. “I swear, Ronin, they’ll all know your name! They’ll know how beautiful you are, even in death!”

You can’t stop laughing, the sound twisting and spiraling into something both joyous and grotesque. “You think I’m crazy? Maybe I am! But look at what I’ve created!” The laugh echoes back at you, a hollow sound that sends chills racing down your spine. It feels like a dance, a frantic celebration of everything that’s left of him.

You hold out your hands, covered in blood, and spin in circles, grinning like a lunatic. “I’m your artist, Ronin! Your devoted little artist! And this—this is my tribute to you!”

With every turn, your laughter crescendos, merging with the memory of his teasing words. “You think you’re an artist? Let’s make it a masterpiece, sweetheart!” His voice wraps around you, intoxicating and thrilling, urging you to push the boundaries even further.

“Let’s paint the world with their screams! Just like you said!” You shout, clapping your hands together, the sound wet and squelching. The adrenaline surges, a euphoric high that wraps around your chest like a vice. You feel alive, more than you have in what feels like a lifetime.

“They’ll come for us, won’t they?” You giggle, a wild sound that reverberates through the room. “They’ll see what we’ve done, and they��ll try to take it away! But they can’t, can they? No one can take you from me!” You stagger back from the fridge, your eyes alight with the thrill of it all, and the laughter grows, spilling out of you like the blood you’ve painted with.

You grab a brush, drenched in thick, clotted red, and dance it across the canvas, splattering the remnants of the aorta as if they were confetti. “This is your celebration! Just like you wanted! I’ll make them see! I’ll make them feel!” The colors bleed together, twisted and grotesque, as you pour every ounce of madness and love into the work.

“Can’t you feel it, Ronin?” you whisper, laughing madly as the paint drips and pools, blending with the vibrant hues of death and decay. “We’re unstoppable! Just like you said! We’ll carve our names into the darkness!”

Your laughter echoes again, a wild and beautiful sound, haunting and euphoric, drowning out the fear that tries to creep in. It’s just you, the canvas, and the memories of him, entwined in a dance of chaos and creation.

“Forever together, right?” you chuckle softly, your heart racing. “Just you and me against the world.”

You turn back to the fridge, and for a brief moment, it feels like he’s smiling at you, that glimmer in his cold eyes full of pride and mischief.

“I won’t let you go, Ronin! Not ever!” You scream into the void, your laughter spiraling once more, spiraling into the chaos you’ve created—this gory, beautiful tribute to the love that was, and the madness that will always remain.

The air was thick with the scent of iron as you prepared for the grand finale of your chaotic masterpiece. Misaki, the bubbly friend whose laughter had once filled the void left by Ronin, was your next target. “Time to end this little charade,” you sneered, a twisted grin spreading across your face.

You lured her into a trap under the guise of a casual meet-up, laughter spilling like honey as you reminisced about the past. “Remember those fun times we had?” you chirped, your voice dripping with feigned innocence. But beneath the surface, your heart raced with anticipation, the thrill of what was to come pulsing through your veins.

When the moment was right, you struck. “Sorry, Misaki, but your show’s over!” The blade glinted in the dim light as it plunged into her gut, the laughter fading from her eyes as confusion morphed into shock. You watched, fascinated, as her blood pooled around her, painting the ground in hues of crimson.

“Why did you kill her?” V shouted, rushing in, his eyes wide with disbelief. The rage in his voice echoed the disbelief of your actions. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

You couldn’t help it—your laughter erupted, wild and unhinged. “Justice? There’s no justice in this world! Only chaos!” With a swift movement, you pulled out your knife and stabbed him in the leg, the blade piercing flesh with a sickening squelch.

His scream rang out, a symphony of pain that only fueled your insanity. “See? No justice, only vengeance! Just like Ronin would want!” You cackled, feeling the thrill of power surge through you.

V stumbled back, clutching his wound, and in a fit of rage, he grabbed a crowbar lying nearby, just like Ronin used to do. “You’re going to pay for this!” he growled, but his resolve was faltering as he limped toward you.

“Come on, V! You can do better than that!” you taunted, laughing harder as he swung the crowbar. The connection between metal and flesh was loud and satisfying as it cracked against your skull. You reeled, but the pain was merely a reminder of the twisted love you shared with Ronin.

You met his gaze, your smile widening, the madness spilling over. “I’ll show you just how far this can go!” You lunged forward, knocking the crowbar from his grip, and seized your opportunity.

With each blow, you savored the moment, channeling the darkness Ronin had instilled in you. “Beat the hell out of you! Just like Ronin would!” you laughed, feeling giddy as you struck again and again, the world fading into a haze of red and laughter.

Finally, he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. You stepped back, breathless, surveying the chaos around you. “Ronin, I sent your friends to hell! Enjoy it with them!” you yelled, your voice ringing through the empty space.

But he didn’t respond, not in the way you wanted. His presence loomed, as always, like a shadow you couldn’t shake off. You could feel his gaze, cold and assessing, lingering on your every move.

“Why won’t you leave me?” you hissed, a mixture of anger and desperation flooding your heart. “Look at me! I’m doing this for you!”

A chilling silence enveloped you, and you stared into the void, awaiting a response. And then you whispered, almost pleading, “You think I’m pretty in this blood, don’t you?”

In that moment, your insanity felt tangible. “I’m pretty when I’m married in red blood, just like you wanted!” you laughed, the sound spiraling into the air. “We’re meant to be together, forever! I’ll keep you alive in every kill!”

You stood amidst the carnage, laughter bubbling up like a wild, unstoppable force. “HA HA HA! Look at this! Look at all this blood!” The remnants of your latest masterpiece surrounded you, glistening under the flickering light like a grotesque work of art.

“Why did you make me do it?” you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls, a haunting cry for the one who had twisted you into this chaotic being. “You wanted this, didn’t you, Ronin? You wanted me to feel alive!”

The laughter took hold, consuming you entirely as you spun in circles, arms outstretched, a mad dancer celebrating a morbid victory. “What’s more beautiful than this?!” you cackled, your eyes wide, drunk on the thrill of your dark creations. “Crazy? Gorety? Grotesque? It’s perfection!”

Every scream of your victims resonated in your mind, a symphony of chaos that only intensified your exhilaration. “They never knew! They never understood what we shared!” you shouted to the void, breathless and wild. “I did it all for you! For us! Don’t you see?!”

But the silence was deafening, and your laughter grew manic, bouncing off the walls like a deranged echo. “Are you proud of me, Ronin?!” you yelled, your voice cracking. “Am I your perfect little monster?”

With every flick of your wrist, you painted the walls with their blood, each stroke a twisted love letter to the one who haunted you. “They’re all gone! All of them! Just like you wanted!” You doubled over in laughter, tears streaming down your face. “I’m the artist now, and this is my canvas!”

“PLS BE WITH ME!” you screamed into the void, desperation mingling with mania. “I don’t want to be alone in this darkness! I did what you’d want, Ronin! I’m just following your legacy!”

Your laughter morphed into something darker, a haunting melody that filled the empty room. “What’s justice, anyway? Nothing but a lie! I’ll carve my own fate with their blood! We’ll reign together in this twisted world!”

You could almost hear him, his presence swirling around you, a ghostly embrace. “You’re still here, aren’t you? You’ll always be with me!” Your voice echoed, filled with an unsettling mixture of joy and despair.

You lifted your arms, twirling in the gore, laughter spilling from your lips like a twisted song. “Oh, Ronin! We’re creating a new world! A beautiful mess! Who needs justice when we have this?!”

And even as your mind spiraled further into madness, the laughter persisted, a relentless cacophony that drowned out the chaos of reality, binding you to the one you loved in death. “We’re immortal, my darling! Forever and ever! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

In shadows deep, he lingers still, A specter woven into my will, With every stroke, his laughter flows, In crimson tides where madness grows.

“Remember me,” his whispers tease, Through the canvas, he rides the breeze, Each drip and splatter, a memory spun, In the dance of death, we are forever one.

The brush, my weapon, paints the night, A tribute to love lost, a twisted rite, With every victim, his essence remains, A haunting melody in my veins.

I swirl the colors, a wicked delight, A gallery of horrors beneath the moonlight, “Do not forget,” his voice echoes low, In every shade, his spirit will show.

Gore and beauty, intertwined they play, A morbid dance that won’t fade away, With every heartbeat, I capture his face, A love so grotesque, it defies time and space.

“Forever yours,” I cry to the dark, As I bleed my soul onto the stark, Each canvas a shrine, a bloody embrace, In the art of despair, I find my place.

“You haunt me still, you’re my muse,” In this gallery of nightmares, I choose, To keep your memory alive, to let it spread, In the strokes of blood, where we both tread.

So let the world shudder, let them recoil, For our love is buried deep in this soil, With every brushstroke, I conjure your name, In the twisted embrace of passion and pain.

And as long as I breathe, you’ll never depart, For you’re etched in the fabric of my broken heart, In every painting, your laughter I’ll weave, In this haunting tale, I’ll never leave...!

#killer chat x reader #killer chat ronin #killer chat v #killer chat vn #killerchat #killer chat ronin x reader #ronin beaufort x reader #ronin beaufort #ronin x reader #killer chat misaki #misaki #V #goreboy x reader #killer chat

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 7 months ago

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What I couldn't say the first time

Inspired by a Reddit post I cannot find anymore where this one man said that every time his wife takes off her wedding ring to do chores, he takes it and proposes to her again

Hua Cheng noticed it the moment he walked past the doors of Puqi Shrine, his eye attracted to it almost as if by instinct. The small establishment, though a far cry from its original appearance, still maintained its modest, homely appearance - and so it was easy for the item to catch the ghost king's attention as it laid onto the offerings table.

Hanging at the end of a silver chain, a diamond ring gleamed into the faint candlelight, gently reflecting the glimmering sparks of the flames. The item had been carefully laid down so that the chain would not tangle or the ring roll away, placed in the middle of the table almost like it was an offering itself.

In a sense, it had been.

It had been for sure.

The shrine was quiet, the smell of incense weaving a thin veil of smoke around as shadows danced on the wooden walls. It felt somewhat nostalgic to be the only one inside an otherwise silent, modest place of worship for his god - but now, he was not so much in a temple as he was in a home, and his god had become far more than his divine figure of worship.

The thought alone made him crack a smile.

In the adjacent room, he could hear the distant sounds of Xie Lian finishing his bath. Hua Cheng felt only a little bit disappointed he had showed up a bit too late to join in - but the moment he saw the piece of jewelry lay onto the altar table, he figured that was what his beloved had been doing without it on his person.

No matter how often Hua Cheng reassured him neither the ring, nor the chain were made of anything that could be easily broken or lost, Xie Lian insisted to treat them with the utmost care - and that meant avoiding any possible water damage.

It was a bit ridiculous to think something as trivial as water could possibly harm the two enchanted items, but it did make Hua Cheng's heart, unmoving as it was as a ghost, flutter to be cherished to this extent by his beloved.

Which was why he did not panic the moment he saw them laying on the table and not on his husband's chest - like he did the first time. It was an amusing memory to think of at the moment, but at the time, Hua Cheng had thought he would be dying a fourth time when he walked into their home only to see the jewelry discarded and no Xie Lian around.

He had all but flown into a panic looking for the man who, upon hearing the commotion, had thought somebody broke into the shrine and nearly knocked himself out jumping out of the bath, sword in hand, still dripping water.

Now, Hua Cheng simply decided to wait for Xie Lian to emerge from the bath, picking up the necklace as he heard the door opening.

"San Lang." Came the soft, happy voice of his beloved, and Hua Cheng felt an immeasurable warmth bloom in his chest at the sound, his gaze softening at the sight of Xie Lian.

"Gege."

"You're a bit late, I just finished up."

Hua Cheng couldn't help a laugh, "There is still time."

Xie Lian laughed as well, a familiar heat climbing up his cheeks that hot water could not have excused. The sight had Hua Cheng feel more alive than anything in the many centuries that counted his life and his deaths - and so, he took two steps forward to close the distance between them, but made no further moves.

It made him laugh again how confused Xie Lian seemed upon not receiving any sort of affection despite the closeness. He looked a bit like an overly eager puppy, and it was infinitely adorable - but Hua Cheng had a plan and so he couldn't let himself be enticed.

"Your Highness, you're missing something." he said, his voice halfway between playful and serious.

Xie Lian blinked up at him, looking over himself for a moment. It was only when his attention snapped to the table and he didn't see the necklace that his eyes widened, "It was just over there, I took it off before I bathed..."

Dread would have settled into his heart immediately had he not suddenly watched as Hua Cheng carefully placed the necklace around his neck himself, his movements gentle and reverent.

"Don't scare me like that again..." Xie Lian breathed out, fingers grasping at the ring, "I really thought I lost it..."

"That could never happen, Your Highness. I told you before, you can't lose it and you cannot lose me. I will always come back to you."

A soft smile lifted the corners of Xie Lian's lips, serene, loving. "I hope I'll always be here for you to come back to."

"Why didn't you give this to me yourself back then?" Xie Lian asked as he toyed with the diamond ring hanging around his neck, head laying on Hua Cheng's chest. "You just left it for me to find."

"...I was nervous." he admitted quietly, looking away with embarrassment. "I did not know how to bring it up and it would have been...suspicious."

"San Lang, you were suspicious from the start." Xie Lian laughed, the indignant expression on his husband's face particularly funny to him.

"Did gege figure out who I was this early on?"

"Well, there are so many ghost kings using silver butterflies as weapons, famously wearing red clothing and being especially uncomfortable for heavenly officials to speak of."

Xie Lian couldn't help laughing more at the look on Hua Cheng's face, his own expression delving into a soft, amused one. He placed a strand of Xie Lian's hair behind his ear with reverent care.

"Though I could not bring myself to give you my ashes directly the first time... I knew you'd understand anyway."

"You have always had so much faith in me, San Lang."

Hua Cheng could not help a smile, full of love and devotion all the same, "How could I not?"

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hob #heaven official's blessing #hualian #believe it or not this started off as angst however #here i am #im losing my angst drive #writing attempts

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kaelily · 2 years ago

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❀ ABLOOM

gn!reader spending a spring day with their beloved

sfw, for @heiayen 's spring collab

THOMA finds the pleasant smell of sakura blossoms to be incredibly calming while his back rests against the tree. a few cats trail around him and brush their heads against his elbow, satisfied with the treats and the small knitted sweaters that were offered to them. he cant help but let a gentle smile stretch across his face at the sight of you dozing off with your cheek smushed against his chest. you look more peaceful than ever and he would despise it if anything potentially interrupts your pleasant nap. both of you have been so busy with your duties at the kamisato estate that you barely got the chance to go on a date or just spend time with each other and he's glad that his chores are over for the moment so he could spoil you like this.

he thinks about the way you make him feel alive and happy, the way his heart flutters and butterflies dance around in his stomach every time you look at him and finds himself admiring you. the way your chest rose and fell with each breath you took, the way your hair danced with the wind, he finds it all captivating and mentally smacks himself on the head for not bringing a kamera with him. a chuckle erupts from his mouth when you nuzzle your cheek further into your chest and his hand raises up to gently card his fingers through your hair, slightly scratching your scalp, which emits a groan from you in response. a soft kiss is placed on top of your head and he leans against the bark of the tree, closing his eyes to doze off with you.

KAEYA is suprised that he has managed to survive so long without you. when the first thing he notices after finishing paperwork and exiting his office was the sight of you standing in front of him holding a picnic basket, you're instantly pulled into a hug while he buries his face into your neck. the sandwiches and lemonade you made are appetizing and he doesn't miss out on the chance to praise you about it as you spend the rest on the day on one of the grassy fields of mondstadt. being a person who is relied upon by an entire nation is quite taxing at times and whenever he feels the need to take off his mask and lean on someone, you're right there for him, almost like an angel.

the gentle breeze is relaxing against your skin as you lay on his lap while your hands busy themselves with the task of braiding the ends of his hair and tucking flowers into the strands. he's also very focused on the act of twisting stems of calla lilies, windwheel asters and other smaller flowers into a pretty flower crown for you. his hands settle on your hips to help you sit up on his lap so that he can place the crown on top of your head and affirms that he did a great job on making you look prettier, remarking that you look like a flower too, the prettiest one he has ever seen. the way you hide your face in his chest as a response in a clearly flustered manner is very amusing to him.

KAVEH currently feels the urge to dig a hole in the ground and stay in there for all eternity out of sheer embarrassment. inviting you over when his room was a literal mess with papers and pencils scattered everywhere, architectural instruments visibly arranged in a disorderly manner and forgetting to clean it up before you arrived was a huge mistake and he broods in one of the corners of the room after profusely apologizing to you. his tense shoulders relax a little when your hand settles on them and his eyes practically sparkle when you assure that it'll be rather romantic to indulge in some springs cleaning activities together, doubting if it was possible to fall even harder for you

he finds himself sneaking glaces at you as you clean, finally giving into the temptation to settle his hands on your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder to ask for a dance. your bodies move in sync as he loudly sings out one of his favorite songs because he gets to make you laugh and also annoy al haitham in the process and places a kiss on your neck when he dips your body, giving you a sly wink as you stare at him with wide eyes as a response. both of you collapse onto the couch, clearly exhausted when all of it is over and kaveh promises to draw out a bath for the both of you so that he could pamper you in return

HEIZOU is enthusiastic as ever as he drags you along with him through the streets of inazuma to try out a new food stall that recently opened up. according to the people, they made the most delicious fried tofus ever and heizou has been very excited since he's heard of this. his hands were intertwined with yours to pull you along with him as you struggle to catch up with his fast pace. he places a kiss on your cheek to apologize when he sees your clearly exhausted form as you finally reach the stall, promising to make up for it while chuckling at your annoyed expression

people weren't lying when they said that the food was delicious and also, the owner was incredibly sweet to the both of you. a rather smug smirk grows on his face when she remarks that the two of you look very cute together and naturally takes it as an opportunity to tease you. he pays for the food, thanking the owner as he leaves and finds the utterly adorable sight of your cheeks stuffed full when he turns towards you. his hand reaches out to pull on your cheek softly and a giggle slips past his lips when you pout at him, cooing the sight of you savouring your food

#Amidst the spring's song #astronetwrk #thoma x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #heizou x reader #shikanoin heizou x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #thoma fluff #kaeya fluff #ᕱ ᕱ — creations

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danses-with-dogmeat · 1 year ago

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Day 7 -- Kent Connolly

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 7 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

First Time with Kent Connolly x M!Reader

This one is... very long lol. But Kent is just !!! He's so precious, and I felt like I really wanted to draw out the process, since Kent tends to be quite shy and I feel like, in almost every capacity in a romantic relationship, he'd want to take things slowly.

So this is me trying to do that idea justice. If you're craving some serious sweetness with Kent, look no further! 😊

HOWEVER, I do have a couple TWs for allusions to/talk of sexual assault, and also mentions of homophobia. So please be aware of that!

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: First Times, first time jitters, history of sexual assault, homophobic family, lack of acceptance, kissing, confessions of love, undressing, enthusiastic consent, praise, voice kink, light body worship, nipple play, hand jobs, anal fingering, gay sex, aftercare. Sweetness, love, adorableness, KENT AND READER BEING SO SWEET, cuteness, etc.

Words: so many lol 7.5k

“You did all this, Sole?”

“Yeah, well… I figured, you know... this was something special." Your hand touched Kent's shoulder gently as he stared ahead in starry-eyed awe. "Plus, Claire owed me a favor, so… Honeymoon suite it is!”

You opened both arms wide in presentation of the romantic scene as you looked over to Kent with a large, dopey grin.

Your partner was wide-eyed and frozen as he gazed into the mesmerizing room, his mouth still agape in awe at all you'd done for him.

The candles, the flower pedals, the plush comforter on the bed, the way the curtains were drawn away from the windows, allowing cool, blue moonbeams to wade through the warm-toned candlelight within the room... It was a scene straight out of a romance novel.

“It’s... Sole, goodness, it’s all too much for someone like me.”

You turned around to face him at that, a hurt expression creasing your brows as you spoke softly to your partner.

“Kent, sweetheart, you know that’s not true, could never be true. You deserve the world, you hear me?" Stepping forward, you wrapped both arms around the ghoul’s torso, hugging him tightly against you and placing a sweet kiss upon his temple. "And besides, you know how much of a romantic I am, right? I'll take any excuse to do something like this for my beloved hero.”

You whispered that last bit into his ear, and as Kent turned to you, his eyes were glistening.

God, he was sweet. Maybe the kindest, most darling man you’d ever met, and he was yours.

Unable to help yourself, one hand left where it wrapped around Kent’s waist, and went to gently grasp at the point of his chin, holding him in place as you leaned in to kiss him full on the lips. You felt his little jolt, the small yelp of surprise he almost always released when you were this forward with your affections, and pulled back.

Kent’s light, sparkling eyes were wide as he blinked up at you with parted lips.

You let yourself take in the sight of him, then. His earnest expression, his genuine surprise, and his slow acceptance that you wanted this. To some, it might’ve become tiresome; the doubts Kent held in himself, the lack of forwardness, of confidence in your relationship, but after all the ghoul had been through, you could never blame him.

Plus… It was nice to take it slow. Necessary, even, after your own struggles, your losses, your difficulties being this vulnerable, this honest with someone about your true self.

The army never glorified that kind of thing, and your family even less so. Your wife… she had understood, that though you were fond of her, though you loved Shaun with all your heart and held great affection for her, there was always something that was going to be off between the two of you, something that wasn’t the case– or wasn’t meant to be the case– with straight couples.

But your family hadn’t been any the wiser about your strategically heterosexual marriage, and oh, how they’d adored Nora. And that was all that mattered, wasn’t it?

At least, that's what they’d thought.

Even on the hardest days of missing everyone you'd lost, you could never miss the way you couldn't be your true self with the people who were meant to accept you and love you unconditionally.

“Here, why don’t you get settled, I’ll close the door.” You forced yourself from your thoughts and gradually released Kent from your half-embrace as you turned to grab at the handle behind you, pulling the hotel room door closed with a click.

Kent had seated himself on the end of the bed, not really appearing to be comfortable, but… he was trying. His hands still fidgeted in his lap, his eyes still darted around the room, but you saw him taking deep breaths, felt the nerves radiating off of him beginning, maybe, to dissipate just a little bit.

“Want me to take your coat?”

“O-oh, yes, thank you.”

He pulled the thing off himself as though you were drilling him, like he was being timed, flailing around until he could hand you the stuffy, old suit jacket.

“And your hat?”

Kent handed that over swiftly as well, and you moved to hang it– and your own– on the coat rack by the door.

“Nuka Cola?” You asked as you turned towards the little kitchenette in the lovely, roomy suite.

As if I really have to ask.

“Yes, t-that sounds nice.”

He sounded so stiff, still, and a small part of you wished it was just another evening in his room; that instead of this lavish date night, you’d simply have shared the evening chatting about comics and a dozen other things in the quiet comfort of the Memory Den. Yet, you’d both talked about this so much recently, these next big steps in the relationship, moving forward after so long of holding things off, of taking the time you both needed to heal and get used to the idea of intimacy and vulnerability again, after your respective struggles.

“Here, baby.” You handed him one cola bottle, and kept the other in hand as you sat down beside your partner on the lavish, burgundy comforter.

“Wow,” You said with a chuckle, bouncing lightly on the cushy mattress. “This is... the nicest bed I’ve been on since waking up.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a rasp, “ahem, ah, comfy… yeah.”

Kent swallowed like he had a radroach stuck in his throat, but took a swig of his drink nonetheless.

You felt the energy in the air around you, the charged silence like volts of electricity flowing through your shared space, leaving you just as on-edge as your partner.

A deep breath left you, and you turned to him with a gentle determination.

“Kent, hon... we can just spend the night here, if you want.” You finally offered, breaking the silence. “The last thing I want is to pressure either of us, or to make you uncomfortable.”

Kent's eyes met yours, and you saw apology shining there.

“It’s okay." You insisted with a smile and a bump of your hand against his arm, "I promise, baby. If we’re not ready, we’re not. You know I’ve got no problem holding off. I’m… well, I’m definitely pretty nervous myself, to be honest.”

“Y-you are?” Kent's bright blue eyes widened, his brow raising as though had no idea of your own struggles, your own inexperience.

I swear, I told him… but maybe…

“Yeah.” You chuckled a little, your hands wringing around the glass neck of the bottle you held. “I actually had to ask Hancock for some tips.”

“Oh.” Kent’s brow furrowed immediately, and he looked away from you. “Yeah… with ghouls I don’t know how different it tends to be–”

“No, Kent, that’s not what I meant, I… Did I really never tell you? In all the talks we’ve had about this?”

“Tell me what?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling the cruel claws of self-consciousness creep under your skin.

But he'd been honest with me. About everything.

You trusted Kent, with everything in you, you knew he'd never judge you, never breathe a word of something that you wanted to stay secret, but now... Well, Nora was the only one who'd ever really known the truth about you.

Maybe Hancock had an idea, given some of the questions you'd asked him in preparation for tonight, but you hadn't spilled your life story to him, he didn't know your background. You'd been vague with the details of why you needed some pointers, but this... This was as open as you could be.

A secret your closest family never even knew.

“That I’ve never… well, I've never been with another man before.”

His gaze returned to yours with a whip of his head, brows still raised high, startling eyes wide with wonder.

“N-no, Sole, I… I never knew.” Kent's head shook slowly back and forth. “And you want... your first time to be with–”

“Absolutely, Kent.” Your hand was on his before you even knew you’d moved, wrapping around it reassuringly as you scooted closer. “And you still want me to be your first?” You asked quietly, quite sure you knew the answer, but wanting to hear it anyway, wanting him to know you cared.

Kent nodded to you with a small grin, before it quickly was dashed from him and his eyes grew strangely distant as they looked past you at some invisible memory.

“Well, you know… almost my first.” His voice was small, quiet as a breeze over snow-covered ground, and almost broke at the words. Your chest gave a painful ache that damn near knocked the breath from you at the sound of him, the sunken look upon your beloved partner's face.

“Listen to me, love,” You scooted closer, until your thigh was brushing Kent’s, turning your body towards him and grasping at his hand all the harder, as reassuring a gesture as you could manage without overwhelming him. “What Sinjin’s goons did to you doesn’t count for shit, alright? That was… it was wrong and awful, it was cruel and it doesn’t count. You hear me?”

He couldn’t quite speak, so Kent only nodded, and to your surprise, the ghoul actually leaned forward, falling into your chest as his arms wrapped around you.

You felt a hollowness, a vile taste on your tongue as you recalled finding him in the aftermath that night, dressed as the Shroud and finishing off every last one of those criminal assholes before gently folding a shaking Kent into your comforting embrace.

If only you'd known before what they had done... You wouldn't have made their deaths so quick.

“We don’t have to do anything.” You leaned into your partner now, one hand moving behind him to rub soothing circles over the length of his back.

“No.”

You heard Kent croak out, and pulled yourself away slightly to look into his eyes.

“You're sure?”

He nodded; firmly, even, and you listened intently as Kent opened his mouth to speak.

“I want to make new memories. With you, Sole. Ones that can replace the others… That can make me… happy, instead of… Well, you know.”

You had to swallow as tears came unbidden to your eyes, feeling the way your throat tightened at the power of his words, of his resolve.

“That’s really brave, Kent.”

“Yeah, well…” A small smile pulled at the ghoul’s lips, and you felt your heart soar at the sight. “You know me. Bravery. It’s what I’m all about.”

A chuckle left you, and you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“Look, you may joke about it…” You whispered to him, “But really, I think it’s true, love. You’re brave as the Silver Shroud, there’s no doubt about it.”

“Aw, stop it, Sole.” His hand weakly, jokingly, pushed at your chest as you both grinned.

The air seemed a bit lighter now, some of the candles had burned down to nothing, and a cool breeze wafted through the slightly parted windows. A chill ran up your spine, but this time, instead of nerves, it was likely just the cold… or maybe the excitement you felt bubbling up.

It’s decided. You reminded yourself. We’re actually doing this tonight.

Instead of pulling away from him to start, you laid another kiss over Kent’s lips, and after a moment of stiffness, he leaned into it. You felt the brush of hot air as he exhaled through his ruined nose, but still, he only pushed further into you, tilting his head and kneading his phantom lips over yours. The friction had your mouth tingling, and the taste of your partner was sweet from the Fancy Lad’s cakes and Nuka Cola still on his tongue from after dinner.

Finally, you pulled away, only for a brief moment, as you grabbed both the bottles of cola and leaned to set them down on the bedside table.

“Hey,” You said as you scooted back on the bed, making it easier for you to lie down flat on the mattress. “Why don’t you take the lead? That way, if you start feeling uncomfortable, you can just take it back a notch. You can sort of set the pace, you know?”

“You think that’ll work?” His voice was small, uncertain, even as his gaze set upon the way your body leaned back against the pillows at the head of the bed. As his gaze hinted at the yearning he felt within.

“It’s up to you, love. Just thought it could be something to try?”

Kent nodded then, and slowly, his body moved to join yours fully on the bed. Your breath almost caught in your throat as Kent crawled over top of you. He was still hesitant, yes, but his movements were more sure of themselves than you could’ve hoped.

His arms caged you in from where he hovered above you, and his torso and hips pressed to yours as he gradually lowered his bodyweight onto you.

“T-this okay?”

“It's perfect, baby.”

With that, a grin lit up Kent’s expression, and instilled the confidence he needed to press forward, to capture your lips in a kiss once again.

His kisses were always as earnest as Kent himself was; careful, asking, sure, but more recently… brave. He kissed you with more confidence than you were used to, after being with him for so many months now, and this time, it took your breath away. Even then, as Kent felt you gasp into him, he didn’t pull away, only pushed forward.

A pleasant heat started radiating around you, invigorating your movements as you allowed your hands to raise off the mattress, to begin to roam over Kent’s body. Your fingers lightly grazed up his sides, and you felt him tense over you. In response, you slowed a bit, and only continued when you felt him release a breath and relax under your touch.

It was a delightful dance you two weaved with one another, a push and pull, a giving and asking of consent that had you aching for more. If you could glean anything from his movements, it was that Kent too, was eager to feel you explore him. The way he ran his lips over yours in such charming movements-- there was an honest wanting behind them, but always of a respectful sort. In that moment, you realized, you truly couldn’t have asked for a better partner to share this with.

“Kent.” You mumbled through your contact, and he pulled away only a hair’s breadth.

“Hm?”

“Do you mind…” Your fingers grazed over the bottom hem of his button up, “Can I take this off?”

If his complexion had been different, you were sure you would’ve seen him blush at your request. Instead, he just looked away shyly, before nodding and sitting up to help.

You joined him, bracing yourself against the pillows as you leaned forward and began to undo the buttons of his dress vest. When you had them undone, he shrugged the garment off, and looked down in wonder as your fingers set upon the smaller clasps on his shirt. Your smiling eyes met his, and Kent just looked… God, he had a way of– when he smiled at you– making you feel like you were the most important thing on this planet.

You found yourself sincerely hoping your own look echoed that sentiment right back at him.

Once you had it undone, Kent helped you to pull the shirt from his shoulders as well; though, this time a bit more hesitantly, as he revealed his bare chest and torso to your gaze. You let your eyes rake leisurely down his body, from where you’d been looking in his eyes, now to his throat, the bobbing Adam’s apple as he gulped at the way you took him in, then down to his chest, how it rose and fell with his hurried breaths, his soft stomach, all rough and textured like you’d expected, but also, just…

He was breathtaking.

A man who’d lived so long, who’d been through as much as he had, and made it out still as sweet and loving as anyone you’d ever known-- hell, more so than anyone you'd known. He was everything good about humanity, wrapped up in this charming body, and offering himself to you, to be explored, to be loved, as he deserved; and dammit, you were going to live up to that, you were going to love him like everything good about the world was meant to be appreciated, respected, adored, and never taken for granted.

“Your turn?” Kent's voice interrupted your visual praise of him, and you nodded eagerly at the notion that he wanted to see you this way too.

“Sorry, babe." You said with an easy smile, "Just got caught up in you. You’re just… You’re very handsome, Kent.”

He tried to hold back the dopey, blushy grin threatening to take over his face, but you committed that look to memory before he could dash it away completely.

We'll have to work on that. How he could be sheepish about such a charming expression, I'll never know. I could see that look a hundred times a day and never grow tired of it.

Shakily, Kent set his fingers to your own set of buttons, the motion tickling slightly as he undid them as carefully as one might defuse a landmine. Your own hands worked at the cufflinks at the end of your sleeves, so when Kent was done, you could just pull the garment off straightaway.

Once it was off, Kent must’ve gone through the same process you had only a few moments ago, his vibrant blue eyes taking you in without so much as a blink. The light scars upon your otherwise smooth skin from battles old and new, the crop of chest hairs below your collar bones, the way your stomach rose and fell from your own rapid breaths.

Without a word, Kent’s hands found your chest, settling there reverently, his fingers stroking over your unmarred form, the coarse little hairs there, one hand even going down to brush gently over the point of your nipple, before his pressure eased you back, to lay down fully on the mattress.

“I want…” Kent's roughened hands kept stroking over you, the light touches stimulating your nerves in an almost frustrating way. “I want to kiss you again.”

“Please.” It left you on a desperate breath, and Kent pushed forwards eagerly. The warmth of your skin collided as he laid back over you, and his hands went up to wrap around your shoulders, even as your own touch set to drawing soothing patterns over the textured skin of his bare back.

His lips, however, were only on yours for a moment, before Kent moved lower, setting them to the line of your jaw, then down to your neck, where you felt goosebumps spread from the tickling sensation of his feather-light kisses.

“Ahh,” you sighed out, “That’s… that’s really nice, babe.”

Kent hummed into you as he continued, and you blinked open your eyes to look down at him. His were still closed in a bliss of his own, as he worked over you with his worn lips, dragging them over your skin before pressing small crops of tingly kisses down your collarbone, and then onto your chest.

As he moved lower, your hands slid up his body, now resting upon his shoulders, rubbing there with a bit of pressure until you felt his lips in a new place. He pulled away, surprising you, then, when his warm, wet lips set upon one erect little nipple, giving it a curious prod with his tongue. Immediately, your body tensed beneath him, your hands grasping firmly to his shoulders at the shock of his forward touch on that small, sensitive place.

“Did that hurt?” Kent backed off quickly, his expression panicked as he looked down at you with furrowed brows.

“N-no, it–” Your own chuckle interrupted you, “That actually feels really good, it just surprised me, is all.”

“Oh, s-sorry.”

“No!” You could tell you said the word too loudly, but honestly, if Kent got it into your head that you didn’t like that, well… it just wouldn’t be the truth, right? And heroes all strive towards the truth.

“No," You said more quietly this time, "Kent, please don’t apologize, I jerked up like that because it just felt so shockingly good. You're, god, I mean, you're a natural.”

He made that face again, like he was trying to stifle a blush, and goodness, if that wasn’t one of the loveliest sights you’ve had the privilege to see.

“You got a gift, baby, honestly.”

“So... I should do it again?”

You licked your lips unwittingly as you nodded, silently wondering how sensitive he was in that same place upon his chest. You’d have to test it one day, but for now, you settled back to how you both were before.

Your stomach already buzzed in anticipation as Kent leaned forward, his eyes locked to your expression expectantly as he gave you a little teasing lick. Your own eyes closed in bliss, a chill running up your back from the too-light touch on your sensitive little bud, and a sigh left your lungs you as he did it again, drawing the action out a bit this time, much to your obvious delight.

“Aw, yeah… that’s it.” You arched your back up against the mattress, pushing out your chest and urging your partner to continue. You let him witness the whole range of pleasure coursing through you, as your hands grasped his shoulders tightly, as you gasped with each lick, each sensual little suck, as your eyes rolled back in your head and you groaned out in response to your his touches. Just as you felt your nipple growing more sensitive, as it began to harden in response to the stimulation, Kent followed his instincts and switched to the other one. Thankfully though, he had the good sense to slide one hand up your body, to tease at the– now distinctly sensitive– bud he’d left temporarily unattended.

Breaths continued to leave you in labored pants, and you could feel a tense bulge forming between your legs in response to his increasingly heated motions.

Kent appeared to be enjoying himself as well, it seemed, as you felt the evidence of his excitement against one of your thighs. As he laid sprawled over you, likely unwittingly, Kent began to grind his hips in slow, undulating movements against you.

“Geeze, babe, that feels nice.” You continued to praise him, feeling your voice grow huskier with building arousal. “C-can I ask you something else?” You added at the last minute, your heart already beginning to pound against your chest at the thought of what you were about to request.

“Hm?” Kent looked up at you, his eyes foggy as he blinked away the haze of his own increasing pleasure. “O-of course.”

“I want us to do this, Kent.” You tried to regulate your voice, to keep it from wavering, to keep your eyes on him, even as you felt your cheeks flush with heat.

“M-me too, Sole.” He whispered back with a little smile.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your own grin took over your expression.

“Alright, so, I was thinking… Maybe we could, um, take off...”

“This next?”

Kent leaned back even more, then, and one hand laid to rest lightly over the button of your dress pants.

You nodded rapidly, feeling that bulge between your legs tingle with anticipation.

“Y-yeah, exactly. If you’re ready.” You quickly added.

Though his brows were creased, though you could see a small shadow of nervousness clouding his vision for just a brief moment, next, his gaze was back on you, and with a nod, Kent's fingers brushed over the swell of your building erection.

“I was a little, ah, nervous when I felt it, but… Like you said. Gotta be brave. If the Shroud gave up every time he felt a little nervous, well, he wouldn’t be a hero now, right?”

Your smile could only broaden at his sound reasoning.

“I guess not," You agreed, "but, still… Kent, I don’t want to pressure you–”

He cut you off, surprising you with his brash forwardness as his lips quickly captured yours.

You had no choice but to melt into it, rejoicing in the firmness of the contact, the way you could feel his rapid pulse through his skin, and still taste honeyed bliss on his tongue as it shyly darted out to meet yours.

Again, you found yourself in utter awe at his admirable courage.

“You’re not," He said as he pulled away, "Don’t worry, my love.”

With that, Kent leaned back again, settling his knees on either side of your thighs as his fingers brushed over your button and zipper. “I really want this too, you know. Even if I'm nervous... doesn't mean I want it any less.”

Your heart jumped, and as his eyes set upon your face again, you gave him one last nod of assurance, and felt pressure release as your button popped open.

Your partner worked slowly, as had become custom with you two, much to both your liking, and pulled down the zip, before he began to shimmy both your briefs and pants down at once. You lifted your ass off the mattress to allow him to slide them down, and then it went easy, until at last, Kent was tugging the pant legs off from around your ankles.

You were too busy staring at his precious expression as he took you in fully, for the first time, to notice what it was exactly he had his gaze set on. Without realizing it, you’d grown more than a bit stiff within the fabric walls of your briefs. Your cock stood up against your lower stomach, at full hardness, as Kent blinked down at you.

“Wow…” He breathed, and you could feel your blush rising at his unabashed scrutiny. “I, no, you… I really made you like this?”

Another nod, another blush, and another instance where Kent was in awe of you. And goodness, how that overwhelming feeling was wholly mutual.

“Kent, baby…”

At that, he snapped out of his haze, blinking as his gaze met yours.

“Right.” Kent cleared his throat, and scooted towards you with intent, and then… stopped, at a loss. “W-what should I do next?”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

His brows furrowed cutely, an expression akin to a pout resting on his face as he considered your question.

“T-touch you?” He suddenly asked.

Very well. Your expression plainly told him, and with a shy smile, you reached out, easing his hands into yours as you guided them to where your erection strained up against your belly.

Slowly, his fingers wrapped around you with a tentative firmness, one that satisfied, but still left you aching for more. He drew his hands up, with your guidance, and smoothed down the generous bead of slick pre-cum from your slit over the rest of your shaft, easing the friction of his touch over you. A breathy groan escaped from your parted lips, and you felt Kent’s pace quicken, his confidence building at your reactions to his efforts.

“Is this okay?” His raspy voice still questioned, even as he continued his dizzying movements. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought his words were meant to tease-- that your innocent, sweet little Kent Connolly was being smug.

But you knew better.

“More than okay." You assured him as the words left you almost in a groan. "Mm, feels really good, baby.”

Kent's grip tightened a bit, and your hips bucked up into his textured touch in response, but instead of pulling away like he had with your chest, your partner's pace only grew more insistent against you.

A shuddering breath left your lungs, some form of a ‘yeah,’ following shortly after as you felt your cock twitch within his grasp.

“H-hold on, please.” You held up one hand as you panted, as you felt sweat slickening over your back and forehead, as that tightening knot down below threatened to come undone all too soon.

Kent's hands paused their movement, but stayed upon you as your gazes met.

“Something wrong?”

“No, god no, the opposite.” You chuckled, but Kent only blinked at you.

“Getting too close, that’s all. Want this to last longer. I want… Want to touch you.”

A moment of consideration, and then Kent’s hands left your protesting cock.

“Okay.” He said with a new certainty, shifting back to give you room to sit up.

With that, you rose, and set your hands upon his body gently, encouraging your partner to lie down in your place on the mattress, before you returned his earlier favor, and tentatively removed his trousers and the underwear beneath.

Silver Shroud boxer-briefs… You noted with a fond smile, Who could’ve guessed?

You made no comment to him though, continuing with your efforts without pause. You allowed the clothes to pile up on the floor, and took in the full sight of your partner spread out beneath you.

Much like Kent earlier in the evening, you just couldn’t help yourself.

Soon, your lips found him-- his lips-- briefly in a sweet, chaste kiss, then to his neck, drawing a shining line of spit over his collar bone with your wet lips, down to his chest, mouthing and leaving teasing, light lovebites in your wake as you steadily moved lower down his body.

A fresh bout of breathy sighs and whines left your partner at your actions, and shudders of pleasure ran up and down through your nerves at the way he sounded from your attentions, the way he blissfully moaned out your name, how his voice caressed the hotel-room air as though he were whispering it for everyone in the world to hear. To hear and to know that you loved him, and that he loved this, despite all odds.

Because it was with you.

You couldn’t help but warm fondly at the thought, and at the realization that you felt the same such way.

As your lips set upon his lower stomach, grazing lightly over his pubic bone, you felt the heat of Kent's own rising erection building so near to your face. The next instant, and one hand was upon him lightly, gentle, asking touches that had him nodding wildly in approval above you, until you took his textured girth in-hand, and began to leisurely stroke. He was already mostly hard, already leaking like you were, and, also like you, Kent was pleading for you to ease up only moments after you’d began your ministrations.

“So, ah…” You both had to stop and take a couple of breaths, allowing your mind to clear somewhat before you voiced your inquiry. “You want to try for the main event?”

Inwardly, you cringed at your wording, making it sound like some show or sporting contest, when really… this was something softer, unostentatious, just… honest. Even with the romance that bled into it, the theatre of the candles and flower pedals and the honeymoon suite... the act itself was more subdued than any act upon a stage, or any great concert in an arena, it was just another soft chapter of your love story. It was words on a page: tangible, but only just so, only by the hands that caress it, by the eyes that so thoughtfully take it in.

“I-I do…” Kent said, his words hushed, but tinged with excitement.

You could see though, that he wanted to say something more, and with a swallow, he did.

“So, you want to, um… be on top?”

You blinked in surprise at his forwardness, but still, you were grateful for it. Not only did it open up the conversation, as you had planned on doing yourself, but it showed that he was actively participating in this. He was choosing to be with you, and of course, of course that was necessary to continue in any capacity, but so far in your relationship, you’d lead the way. Kent was more tentative, less confident, less experienced, but when he made an effort to participate so enthusiastically, it just… it put your mind and heart at ease. He told you time and time again, ‘I want this.’ but words and actions are different, and after all he’d been through… you needed all he could give to determine how enthusiastic-- how ready-- he truly was.

“That’s… well,” You started, “That’s all I’ve ever done, um, so far, you know, with Nora... Um, so I wouldn’t mind it, but… Where would you be most comfortable?”

“Why don’t you take the lead this time?” Kent offered with a shaky voice, and stayed put where he was lying back on the bed, giving you your answer in more ways than one.

With a nod, you slid off the mattress, and though Kent was surely surprised as you left him briefly, any inquiries of his were answered a moment later, when you settled yourself at the foot of the bed with a bottle of lube clasped in one hand.

Hancock’s ‘most important tip,’ as he had put it.

"Don't be shy with this stuff, trust me, heh."

He'd winked then too, but the genuine insistence was there in his words, and you weren't about to ignore them.

“It might be a little cold,” You warned as you squirted a generous amount into the palm of one hand, “but lemme just…”

You rubbed both hands together, trying to warm the gel up a bit, before lowering them between your partner’s legs. With a swallow of his nerves, Kent spread them wider for you, and with his invitation extended, you began to touch him.

He gasped at first, but even so, you felt his body making efforts to relax as your hands grazed over his most intimate places. Slowly, you allowed your fingers to ease downward from his erection, down the seam of his ass until you reached his hole, tentatively spreading the slick of the lube there as you tried to pleasure him all at once. You felt Kent clench just a tad, before the pressure eased, and you heard a deep breath leave him.

“This okay?” You questioned, keeping your gaze locked to his expression as your hands moved.

“Y-yeah, Sole. Just… slow.”

“Slow.” You repeated, your own breath becoming shaky as you felt your arousal pooling low in your stomach. Unwittingly, you found one of your slickened hands pulling away and going to your own cock, stroking and spreading the lube over your length as your other hand continued familiarizing Kent with your intimate touch.

One finger prodded gently at his asshole, and the faintest of moans left him at the near-intrusion.

“You like that?” Your expression soon became a bit smug, proud of the way your touch obviously excited him.

Kent didn’t answer, not with words, anyway, but as you did it again, his hardened member gave an excited little jerk of its own, and another– lovely– involuntary sound spilled from his parted lips.

Your partner relaxed further back into the mattress as you continued toying with him, until, with relative ease, you found your prodding index finger sinking into him. The movement was accompanied by a throaty groan, but you honestly weren’t sure if the noise had come from you or him.

Both, perhaps. Your thoughts suggested, and you felt your cheeks heat at that.

Kent tightened momentarily around the new sensation as you probed a bit further, and you allowed time for him to adjust while your other hand worked over your pulsing cock.

Once he’d relaxed enough for the pressure to let up, you began to withdraw, before pushing back in once more. It was slow, steady, just like the rest of the blissful night had been.

Eventually, one finger turned to two, and you thrust them unhurriedly, lovingly so; kneading and curling your fingers against his pliant walls, and pulling a menagerie of unusually wanton noises from your coy, intimately sheepish other half.

“God, I love the sounds you’re making for me, love.” You leaned your body over his slightly, letting your skin brush his as you continued working your fingers in and out of him, your half-lidded gaze set religiously on the way his brows creased together, how the muscles in his throat strained, his chest rose and fell with the rhythm of your movements.

“... Can I–?”

You tried to begin your inquiry, but Kent’s half-moan, half-plead stopped you in your tracks.

“Yes,” He whined out, “Yes, Sole, I-I'm ready for you.”

The words had you quivering, had your eyes fogging over in bliss, your cock nudging up into your hand as if to encourage you to move forward.

Who were you to deny it? To deny him?

You scooted even closer to your partner, as you withdrew your fingers from him, and placed your free hand over one hip, holding Kent in place beneath you as the other guided the tip of your cock to rest at his entrance.

“Please.” Kent looked like a dream as he eagerly shimmied his hips into you, his own cock drooling a strand of translucent pre-cum onto his soft stomach as you fought to hold yourself back. All of this, his pleading for you, the sight of him spread out beneath your body, the feel of his warmth, the smell of sex and spiced candles in the air, it had you straining and leaking all the same as your partner was.

But you had to be gentle, had to be slow. With that thought in mind, you nudged the head of your cock against him, and gradually, pressed your hips forward. You were pleased by the way he relented to you so easily, the feel of him damn-near making tears form in your eyes at the way his heat encased your sensitive tip, clenching and thrusting towards you, demanding more.

“Good?” Your voice strained out the word.

Kent nodded frantically, one hand going to grasp at your wrist where you were holding onto his hips, and giving you an encouraging squeeze.

With that, you allowed yourself to push steadily in further, feeling the delicious drag of his walls over you, the pleasant ease of the slick lubricant only making your movements more fluid, more blissful.

Twin gasps left your lips as you finally bottomed out inside him, and you felt Kent’s grasp over your wrist tighten almost to the point of pain as his breath picked up in his chest.

“Geeze, Sole…” He rasped as he blinked up at you, sky-blue eyes hazy like fog over the ocean as they clouded over with pleasure.

“You feel so good.” You moaned out, and felt his body shudder at the sound of your praise. It was all you needed to begin pulling yourself out, only a couple inches, before easing your length back inside. Kent’s free hand tugged at the fabric of the comforter as your pace picked up, his teeth set together as his jaw clenched; you hoped, from the overwhelming pleasure, and not discomfort.

“Feel so good around me… Doing so well, baby.” You encouraged as your breath picked up with the steadily increasing pace of your thrusts. “You doing okay?”

“Mmhm. Ah-huh.” A whine escaped his throat, but the way it left him at the same moment his cock spilled another bead of pre-cum over his skin allowed you to make a pretty sound determination.

“You like this, love?”

Another thrust, this one a tad more aggressive than any before it, and you heard the skin of your hips meet his ass with a resounding clap.

“Y-yeah, I do.” The sound of his raised voice went straight to your throbbing member, growing all the harder within him at the strain you detected there, but also the sheer honesty. His want for this, for you inside him, for you to be engaging in this scary, intimate act together that was more worth it than you ever could’ve imagined.

This is what intimacy means. Two people unselfishly and unabashedly loving one another, supporting one another, yearning for one another. You accepting him, and him, you. Love, free of judgement, completely honest, completely overwhelming in its sincerity.

You yearned to see Kent like this a thousand more times, to feel him surrounding you, his body and yours singing praises to each other while your minds and hearts embraced in the same such way.

“Kent, ah…” A more drawn-out moan forced itself from your throat, and he clenched at the way you whined his name.

“Babe, I-I love you.” You managed, and your partner gasped, his eyes bursting open at the sound of your precious words.

“You… you mean that?” His hand on you tightened its grip.

“Always, baby.” You said so quickly you nearly cut him off, “I love everything about you, and I… I love you for trusting me this way.”

You leaned over him now, and felt Kent adjust himself to allow you to lay comfortably over top him. Your chests brushed together, shared breaths mingling in the small space that separated your faces. You were as close to him as one could be to another, and still, you craved more.

“I love you too, Sole. More than I ever thought I c-could love someone.”

His whispered words drew your lips to his, and held you there, reveling in the feel of his touch, his taste, the sweet massage of his textured lips against yours.

Your thrusts into him had eased as you spoke, but now, they picked back up, the force of them jolting your bodies and the large mattress below until you heard the springs straining under your combined weight.

A gasp left Kent each time your cock hilted inside him, and soon enough, you were forced to separate from the kiss, as you both quickly became winded.

“I-I’m getting close.” You managed as you felt your blood rushing, your stomach tightening, fire flowing through your veins.

“I am too.” Kent almost sounded surprised, like that fact had snuck up on him, and you grinned as you focused the grinding of your hips more strategically, flexing and unflexing your stomach muscles where his leaking erection was trapped between your bodies.

His gasps turned to moans, Kent’s hips bucking upwards to meet you, to increase the friction over his aching cock, before his breath hitched in his chest, and he released.

A searing warmth blossomed between your bodies as he met his blissful end beneath you. Your eyes stayed locked to his expression as he rode out his pleasure, fixating on the way his jaw dropped, his eyes closed tightly, his little phantom nose wrinkled as he tensed and writhed and bucked up into you like his life depended on your closeness for its survival.

His expression, the way he clenched around you, his warmth, his spend dripping onto your skin, it was too much, and you followed right after him.

Kent’s legs wrapped around you, holding your body firmly in place as you shouted out your own release, spilling deep inside him. He came down from his high just as you were riding yours out, groaning at the feel of you finishing so deep within, the continuing pressure of your cock against his sore walls, the oversensitivity of your stomach grinding against his tired cock proving almost too much, until finally, you stilled over top him.

Both of you merely existed for a moment, panting out your exertion while you stayed pressed together snugly and basked in the pleasant afterglow of your first union together.

With a protesting sort of grunt though, you began to ease yourself up and out of your partner. You’d laid a towel over the headrest of the bed in preparation, and grabbed it now with one shaky hand, bringing it between your bodies to swipe away the mess of lube and spend. Kent was nearly asleep, his eyes half-closed as he watched you clean him with a tired little grin upon his lips.

Unable to resist the call of that sweet, endearing expression, you bent down to press a kiss to his smiling mouth, before collapsing on the comforter beside him.

“That was…” You started, shaking your head as you tried to finish the sentence, but there… there weren't the words to describe the bliss you’d just felt.

“It was better than the Silver Shroud.” Kent whispered, almost chuckling to himself, even as your eyebrows flew high up on your forehead at his confession.

There was certainly humor there, but also genuine surprise as you sat up to look at him-- to question both the soundness of that statement and his state of mind.

“It was?!”

A chuckle and a nod were your answer, his precious blue eyes crinkling with mirth at your animated response.

"Wow... that's saying a lot, baby. You sure you're okay?"

With that, Kent scooted his body closer to yours, warming your heart as his arms wrapped about you without a measly ounce of hesitation.

"Honestly?" His sleepy voice rasped, "I don't think there's a time I've ever been better."

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout companions #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 npcs #fallout npc #fo4 #fo4 kent connolly #kent connolly #kent x sole #m!sole #ghouls #dwd.nsfw #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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icarustypicalfall · 1 year ago

Text

swan lake

kyle gaz garrick x reader

"take me home, to where i belong"

summary: swans, tulips, and gaz.

warnings: none, fluff, cute, comfort

note: i know most of those are not realistic (i read about it for accuracy) but let's pretend it can actually happen for the plot.

this one for my pookie @puff0o0 hope you like it 🫶🏻

"4, old bricks"

This type of message wasn't unfamiliar to you. In fact, it made you happy, knowing you would be meeting your beloved man in your favorite place. The dryness of the message didn't make you any less excited. You knew how busy he was, being a part of a very important task force, yet he never neglected you. He always spared time for his little darling and checked on you when he was away.

The "old bricks" wasn't, as the name might suggest, some old cranky wall located in the desert. It was a magnificent park rarely visited by people nowadays, as the youth preferred bars and discos. It was the ideal meeting place for you and your beloved—a safe, calm, and beautiful place. Originally named Forrest Green (you two shared countless laughs about the dull name), Gaz preferred referring to it as Old Bricks for security reasons and because of that time when an elderly person sitting on a brick made a comment about you two. Gaz cussed him, saying, "zip it, old brick." The awkward silence was enough for the man to walk away, while you two burst into laughter and had a five-minute moment of knee-slapping.

It was pretty cold outside, and the October weather was one of the many reasons why you loved coming to this park. Walking through the alleys, feeling the small rocks under your boots while the soft wind cut through your hair and face. The shy sun, almost setting, reflected its warm light, promising a comeback once the rainy season was over. Despite being a grown-up, you were still a child at heart, finding satisfaction in stepping on the dried orange leaves as you headed to your favorite spot close to the lake, further into the park.

From a distance, you noticed a tall figure. He turned as you got closer to him, and Gaz smiled. He was wearing civilian clothes and held a bouquet of flowers in his arms. He wrapped an arm around your waist, grinning as he lovingly kissed your forehead.

"I'm glad you came, love. I missed you a lot," his voice carried sincerity, making you smile and coo at his blushing face. He handed you the bouquet of white tulips, freshly cut and neatly collected. The delicate plants were hypnotizing, almost pure and untouchable. Gaz cleared his throat, smiling as he rubbed the back of his head.

"I might be a soldier, but I know how beautiful these are and their meaning. Seeing them reminded me of you—how delicate you are. You remind me of humanity and kindness, dear. If anything, this would be the millionth way to tell you how much I love you."

His words made you tear up, holding the bouquet to your chest, as if promising to protect it just like he protects you every day.

"You're perfect, darling. You make me feel at home. Words can't even describe how glad I am to have met you."

His eyes flickered, a soft blush creeping onto his cheeks as he hugged you tightly. Gaz ran his hand through your hair, taking in the familiar fragrance you both chose together. He had a mini bottle of your perfume, keeping it in his gear to smell when he missed you, as if the sweet sugary scent made him feel at home, where he belonged—by your side.

You sat on the bench, holding hands. The wind blew, making you shiver slightly. Your thin jacket wasn't enough to keep you warm. Gaz wrapped his arms around you, his warm flesh providing some comfort.

You nuzzled closer to him, taking pleasure in watching two swans swim in the lake. The magnificent creatures moved swiftly through the water.

Perhaps, in some other world, in another parallel, you and Gaz were those two swans, journeying to every corner of the world in search of where you belonged. But in the end, you knew, without a doubt, that you belonged together. It didn't matter how heated your arguments got; you always came back to each other, falling into each other's arms and whispering apologies mixed with sweet affection.

Later that night, you lay back on the bed with your beloved, sipping the tea he had made earlier. Sinking in the warm sheets and the dim light of the room, Gaz sighed.

"Do you think they ever get sick of each other?" Gaz whispered, referring to the swan couple.

"Well, they might. I'm not sure. Will you ever get sick of me?" you asked playfully.

His head snapped up at your question, as if offended. He held your chin, looking straight into your eyes as he promised, kissing you softly.

"Never."

(let's ignore that joke at the beginning i was feeling silly lmao 💀😍 hope this made sense cuz i know i sometimes write non sense)

#kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz cod #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz modern warfare #gaz mwii #call of duty fics #call of duty #cod headcanons #task force 141 #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #ghost cod #cod mw #cod mw3 #comfort #fluff

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heart-of-the-morningstar · 10 months ago

Text

More Lucifer x f!reader stuff!

I was sent an anonymous prompt for more Lucifer x reader and I got a little done! This will more than likely contain more NSFW later, but this snippet doesn't have any so no active warnings!

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes hotter. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth has never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #writing #my writing

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merlyn-bane · 9 months ago

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For Foelu snippets stuff (if you're still doing) -- I adored how you handled Obi-Wan's dysphoria in the story. Do you have anything about him getting his implant back or his dysphoria settling or, idk. I just kind of crave some resolution to Obi-Wan's lack of agency over his body and the dysphoria situation. I hope that made sense. Thanks!

So another fill got a little out of hand in terms of the length, whoops 😅😅 Thank you so much for this prompt, it was super interesting to work on, and I really really hope it's everything you wanted @bluemaskedkarma 🥰🥰 Also thank you so much for the compliment, because it really was so important to me that the queer themes inherent to the story were handled respectfully.

This fill does get spicy as a heads up<3

~~~~~~~~

“And have you given more thought regarding what you might like to do regarding your implant?”

Obi-Wan, already part of the way through re-shouldering his tabards under the apparently false assumption that his yearly check-in with the chief healer had reached its natural conclusion, pauses to turn and blink at the woman. “I’m already on an implant, Healer Che.”

“I’m talking about your androgen and enzyme blocker, Obi-Wan,” Che says, flipping through his file again as though she doesn’t know it by heart. “You said yourself that you think Kai-Tal will be done weaning soon, right? Have you thought about what you might like to do when that time comes?”

The thing is, if you had asked him at the start of all this, back when he’d first become pregnant, the answer would have been incredibly easy. He’d have done almost anything just to return to his own self-determined baseline. But it’s been nearly five years, now, with his daughter having just turned four—the Jedi typically ascribed to the notion of allowing the child to lead such things wherever possible, and while she’s been quite contentedly enjoying solids for some time now she’s also been loathe to give up milk entirely and he’d simply been glad that his beloved parasite had at least ceded his nipple once she’d grown teeth.

He’s had five years to get used to the anatomy he has now, to adjust to the small changes it’s brought about in his day-to-day life. Five years with incredibly supportive partners and the extraordinarily satisfying sex that he has with them, often utilizing aforementioned anatomy. Force knows that producing his own lubricant has been incredibly convenient.

He’s had five years to make a whole lot of headway on really internalizing that having a cunt does not make him any less of a man than when he doesn’t.

The question becomes, then, he supposes, whether or not returning to that self-imposed baseline is truly that important to him. And he—doesn’t know. Not for sure. Not yet.

“Take some time to think about it,” Vokara suggests, sensing his indecision. “There’s no timetable here except your own, and you can always change your mind later.”

Obi-Wan ticks up one eyebrow, a touch sardonic. “What, no reminder to make sure I’m only making the decision for myself?”

The chief healer raises a brow right back at him. “I’ve met your partners, Obi-Wan. I seriously doubt they’d let you do anything else.”

~~~

Obi-Wan thinks about it.

And then he…rather forgets to, in-between rearing his daughter and serving on the Council and spending time with his family and teaching classes. Life goes on as it always does, and later he will realize that the ease with which he puts it out of his mind again likely should have been something of a tip-off, but he doesn’t yet.

It isn’t until he catches sight of himself in the ‘fresher mirror one morning some few weeks after the last time he pumps and realizes that his chest is flat once more that it crosses his mind again. He twists to the side just a little further, smiling completely unconsciously at the total lack of rise beneath his undershirt, and Rex must notice because he pauses in brushing his teeth long enough to spit into the sink and lean over to kiss the side of his head.

“You look gorgeous, sweetheart,” the blond offers, grinning before he swats playfully at Obi-Wan’s rear. “Now get movin’ before you’re late for another Council meeting.”

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan retorts, raising an eyebrow even as warmth blooms in his gut. It only grows when he folds his arms over his chest and finds fewer obstacles in his way. And when there’s every bit as much heat in Rex’s eyes now as there’d been before his breasts had receded. “And who was it, pray tell, that made me late?”

“And I’ll do it again if you don’t move your cute little shebs—”

Obi-Wan dances out of the way of his partner’s grasping hands, huffing and elated and feigning annoyance. “Alright, I’m going—”

Rex reels him in for one last kiss first. “You look good, sweetheart,” he reiterates sincerely, and then he’s knocking their foreheads together gently and hustling him out of the ‘fresher. “Have a good day, I love you, I’ll eat ya’ later.”

Obi-Wan lets out an inelegant snort but lets himself be prodded anyway, and if he’s smiling like a dolt through the rest of the morning, well—that’s his business.

~~~

Being able to fit completely back into his old robes, the way he remembers them fitting is—another sigh of relief.

His body will never be exactly as it was—he is not expecting it to be, nor does he particularly desire it to be, not when he bears the marks he does and perhaps the little bit of extra pudge around his middle through giving life to their daughter—but. He’s really starting to recognize himself in the mirror again, and. It’s…nice.

~~~

The last facet of Obi-Wan’s decision making is perhaps not, he thinks, quite what Healer Che had had in mind when she’d sent him off to consider his options.

To be fair, it isn’t exactly what he’d had in mind himself, either.

Obi-Wan finds his partners congregated in their bedroom one evening after he drops Kai-Tal off for a sleepover in the créche—not particularly unusual, and really, to be expected with a planned night all to themselves. The surprise comes in when he’s presented with an almost alarmingly elegantly wrapped box by a grinning Waxer and immediately bid to sit down and open it.

“Dare I ask?” he teases dryly, even as he takes it and lets Boil guide him down to sitting on the edge of the bed. He’s tempted to shake the box lightly just for some kind of hint but resists the urge; even just the wrapping looks expensive and he’d hate to accidentally break something.

“It’s nothing we haven’t already talked about, mesh’la,” Waxer assures him, grinning wider.

“Just took some time to save up for it,” Boil murmurs, piquing his interest—and his apprehension—further. The two of them sit down on either side of him as he finally caves and starts carefully peeling open the paper.

“It’s a strap-on,” Waxer tells him somewhat sheepishly as Obi-Wan blinks down at the mostly phallic-shaped object in the box. “But it’s—supposed to be a real nice one. There’s this piece here that goes inside you, and the lady at the store—I didn’t really understand a lot of the technical stuff, but she said there was some sort of nervous feedback system so you’d actually get some sensation from the shaft, too.”

“We thought something like this would be the best compromise, if you wanted to top without having to go through the process of growing the real thing back,” Boil adds, “like we talked about. It’s totally up to you, of course, but we thought this might give you more options.”

Obi-Wan runs his fingers across the—device carefully, touched. “This must have cost you—”

Cody cuts him off before he can even finish getting the words out. “Do you like it, cyare?”

“Well, yes—”

“Then that’s what matters, mesh’la,” Waxer grins again, and leans in to kiss him softly. “I told you, we saved up for it, and it’s not like we don’t all live in the Temple for free. Besides, any amount of credits would be worth it if something that makes you happy or more comfortable in your own body.” A wicked glint enters his eyes, then. “And this in particular really is just as much for us as it is for you, anyway.”

A few years ago, at the start of their relationship, Obi-Wan may have felt the need to continue pressing the issue. Now, well…he’s learned to take them at their word on things like this, even if he personally feels like they’re spoiling him unnecessarily. Force knows that he enjoys spoiling them, when the opportunity presents itself. “Well when you put it like that,” Obi-Wan drawls, fisting a hand in the fabric of his partner’s shirt and tugging him back in close to lay claim to his smiling mouth.

~~~

“Aren’t you going to join us?”

Cody grins, ducking down to kiss Obi-Wan softly. “This was all Waxer and Boil’s idea, cyare. The rest of us are just here to watch this time.”

“You can bet your pretty ass that I’ve already called dibs on the next time though, sweetheart,” Rex winks as he settles down on the sofa they keep across from the bed with Helix and Cody. Obi-Wan chuckles a little, even as he feels his face flush slightly. Being watched is something he’s always been a little embarrassed to be quite as into as he is, but of course, his partners had figured that proclivity out rather quickly and had hardly hesitated to take advantage. Though he supposes that it is rather convenient that they enjoy watching as much as they do participating, with there being so many of them and but one of him.

Waxer grins and settles back on his elbows, spreading his legs a little bit. “If you’ll pass me the lube, mesh’la—”

“I’m quite offended that you seem to be under the impression that I’m just going to sit here while you work yourself open for me, my dear,” Obi-Wan sniffs as he leans over to dig the lube out of their bedside table. “Why don’t you get naked for me, darling, and then I’ll finger you myself.”

Waxer’s breath hitches, and Obi-Wan grins wickedly at the rustle of fabric that follows as the other man eagerly obeys. When he turns back around, lube in hand, Waxer’s laying back against the pillows again blessedly nude and holding his knees back and open with his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Obi-Wan scoots forward on his knees until he’s settled between his partner’s thighs, stripping out of his upper layers as he does so. “Hi,” Waxer breathes, and Obi-Wan’s grin widens further.

“Hello there,” he croons. “Ready?”

“Very, mesh’la.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan slicks fingers up without looking away from Waxer’s face. “I’m going to take good care of you, darling.”

~~~

Obi-Wan takes his time with getting Waxer ready for him, working him open on his fingers until Waxer’s panting and gasping and squirming and pleading for more that Obi-Wan is loathe to give him just yet because he’s just having so much fun doing this. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed taking his partners apart in this way.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now, Ob’ika,” Boil murmurs, plastering himself to Obi-Wan’s back and pressing a kiss to the place where his neck meets his shoulder. “Help you get set up with the strap while you keep playing with Wax, how does that sound?”

Obi-Wan nods, drunk on the rising lust in the Force and each sound he manages to pull from his partner’s lips. Boil kisses his throat one more time and then starts working his pants down his hips.

“Kriff, you’re wet,” Boil groans when his fingers find their way between the Jedi’s thighs, his other hand tightening around Obi-Wan’s hip, and Obi-Wan groans when the tip of one finger dips into his pussy. “That excited to fuck him, are you, Ob’ika?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan gasps out as one finger becomes two, the sound echoed by a drawn-out keen from Waxer. Boil grins against the Jedi’s skin and then his hands are disappearing from Obi-Wan’s skin while he retrieves the strap-on from its box.

“Good,” the former ARC says, “because we can’t wait to watch you do it.”

~~~

Boil is careful to avoid touching the shaft of the toy as much as possible even as he’s fitting it into place, pressing the bulb portion into his cunt until Obi-Wan moans and clenches around it. “There you go,” he murmurs. “We did get you a harness as well, by the way, in case you feel like you’d like the extra support.”

Obi-Wan is touched by the thought, but really, it barely registers. Especially when Boil’s hand does wrap around the shaft of the toy and strokes oh-so-lightly. It sends a shivery sensation up his spine, and Obi-Wan finds himself bucking his hips forward into it and gasping.

“Oh does that feel good, Ob’ika?” Waxer grins, the expression turning sharp with interest when the Jedi nods wordlessly. “Good. Now fuck me with it.”

~~~

The strap is, of course, not quite the same. The sensation is a little duller and a little different than it would be with his own cock, something almost phantom about it.

But the first slide in is still—indescribably good, all tight heat and delicious friction. It’s almost too much, with his cunt full at the same time like it is. He and Waxer both moan as he bottoms out, and Obi-Wan shivers and drops his forehead down to rest against his partner’s sternum as he gives them a moment to adjust.

“Kriff,” Waxer whines above him, bringing strong legs up to wrap them around Obi-Wan’s waist. “Move, please, mesh’la.”

“As you wish, darling.” Obi-Wan presses a kiss to the skin over Waxer’s sternum and then carefully draws his hips back as far as his partner’s hold will allow, rocking back in slowly as he adjusts to the way the strap feels and moves with him. After a few experimental thrusts he props himself up onto his elbows and leans up to capture Waxer’s mouth with his own, picking up speed and confidence as he goes. After only a few moments more he finds a steady pace that feels good for them both, panting and groaning into each other’s mouths with each smooth thrust in and slow drag out.

Obi-Wan’s eyes snap up at the sound of a shivery moan that doesn’t come from either of them, and feels his hips buck forward out of rhythm all on their own when he sees three sets of dark eyes intensely focused on them. Force, they’re—all stroking themselves, just watching him fuck Waxer into the mattress. Waxer lets out a ragged cry at the hitch in the rhythm, and Obi-Wan is helpless to do little other than to fuck him harder.

“Gonna come,” Waxer gasps out, and Obi-Wan ducks down to kiss him again as he works to drive them both over the edge.

~~~

“How was that?” Obi-Wan grins as he collapses over onto his back, still breathing heavily. He turns his head over to look at his partner, who’s still staring up at the ceiling and panting just as hard.

“Holy kriff,” Waxer whistles. “So fucking good. Sweet Force.” He turns his head over to look back at Obi-Wan, smiling just as wide. “Good for you, too?”

Obi-Wan reaches over and runs the tip of an index finger along Waxer’s bottom lip. “Exquisite, my dear. Truly.”

“Good,” Boil growls, wrapping a hand around the strap Obi-Wan hasn’t gotten around to removing yet and tearing a ragged cry from his throat. “My turn.”

~~~

In the end, Obi-Wan makes the decision to go back on the enzyme blocker in the interest of avoiding another spontaneous shift, but ultimately decides to skip the androgen—at least for now. He’s comfortable in the body that he’s in, and it serves him well, and he knows that he can always change his mind in the future if that ever stops being the case.

Even though the decision he comes to ultimately is not to take an action, he still finds that he feels more settled for having made it. It feels good, to have made the choice. He wonders if perhaps that isn’t why Che had pushed him to do so, ultimately, rather than letting him dither over it forever even if it would’ve essentially been the same end result physically. Force knows that he probably wouldn’t have appreciated it if Che had pointed it out explicitly how little agency he’s had over his own body in all of this.

It feels good to take that agency back.

#foelu #foelu snippets #obi wan kenobi #lieutenant waxer #sergeant boil #obi wan x waxer #obi wan x boil #his other partners are here too but they're not as prevalent so im not going to tag them separately #writing #my writing #asks

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chronicowboy · 2 years ago

Text

this is a silly little ficlet inspired by and written for @danielsousa my beloved <3

When Buck pulls up outside Eddie's house, he turns the engine off. He shouldn't. There's no reason to really. He's just dropping Eddie off. Only Eddie makes no move to get out of the Jeep for the thirty seconds they idle in the driveway. He just stares at his front door like its a particularly difficult math equation he has no intention of solving. So, Buck turns the engine off.

The sudden silence is almost suffocating, the tension between them pulled taut from their night of trash talk that had veered further towards flirting the longer the night went on - the more chips Buck lost to Eddie at the poker table.

When Eddie looks at him, something calculating and pleading in his eyes, Buck's chest tightens in anticipation of what's to come.

"I think," Eddie tilts his head, narrows his eyes slightly, "you should walk me to the door."

"Okay," Buck says softly, his heart making up for all the beats it had missed after the lightning strike. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches for the door, but Eddie's hand lands on his knee and aborts the movement into a twitch of fingers.

For a moment, they do nothing but stare down at the point of contact like its a disaster waiting to happen. Buck stares until he finds the courage to meet Eddie's eyes and finds him already looking back. He swallows thickly. Eddie retracts his hand. The absence of his touch burns like acid.

"I think I'm going to start dating again," Eddie murmurs into the darkness of the Jeep.

Buck doesn't remember what it felt like to fall off the top of the ladder, he doesn't remember the brief weightlessness or the snap of the slack line when he reached its end, he was already dead. But he thinks it must have felt something like this because his stomach floats for a beat before dropping like a hunk of lead.

"Oh, that's..." He inhales, holds, exhales. "Good for you, man."

Eddie's eyes flick over his face, desperate and searching, a little frantic about it. If Buck didn't know better, if he allowed himself to feel the heady intoxication of whatever it was they'd been doing all night, he'd think Eddie was begging him to object.

But then, he nods and climbs out of the Jeep.

It takes Buck a moment to remember he's supposed to walk him to the door. He staggers out onto the driveway on unsteady legs, the gravel like slick metal rungs under his feet, and drifts effortlessly to Eddie's side. Their shoulders bump just like always and then they're moving towards the door, the fifteen familiar yards stretching into a mile hike.

Eddie unlocks the door with careful movements, but he pauses halfway to the handle. He turns, takes a step towards Buck, stares.

Buck fights the urge to itch the fading scars on his shoulders, sparks of electricity tingling under his skin at the weight of Eddie's eyes on him.

"A-any ideas how you're gonna get back into dating?" Buck asks, just as desperate as Eddie's eyes had been.

"Not really," Eddie says evenly. "I know dating apps are a thing but..."

"Not your thing," Buck snorts. "I can just imagine you matching with a Hildy and throwing your phone at the wall."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Flash." Eddie shakes his head with a chuckle, looks back at Buck from under his eyelashes. Buck's breath catches deep in his chest. "I meant more because dating apps are like for hook-ups, right?"

"Some, not all," Buck says simply because he had not once considered their night would end like this, with Buck explaining the intricacies of modern dating to his... To Eddie.

"Its just difficult, you know?" Eddie sighs, falls back against the wall next to the door. "Attraction's always been difficult for me."

"Yeah?" Buck raises an eyebrow, half curiousity, half surprise.

"Its like..." He sighs, deep and heavy. "I don't know. With Shannon, we were friends first and then I started noticing her as more than that. And Ana was... Well," he grimaces, "I'm not entirely sure I was ever attracted to her." Eddie's eyes light up with something thoughtful. "I'm pretty sure the only person I've ever known I was attracted to is..." Eddie snaps his mouth shut suddenly, his gaze drifting over Buck's shoulder.

Buck nods. He doesn't know what it means.

There have been a hundred moments tonight, a hundred moments imbued with something intentional, a hundred moments that felt like the edge of something. This moment feels like the tip of the blade they're both balancing on.

"Sex complicates everything," Buck breathes, an echo of a long ago moment when the worst thing they'd been through together was the hour-long line at Santa's grotto filled with handsy moms and snotty children.

"Yeah," Eddie murmurs, eyes dropping to Buck's lips, just for a second. "Yeah, I guess it does." He stares once again, with those dark, desperate eyes. And then, "night, Buck."

Eddie slips through the front door, and the click of the lock has Buck losing his footing on the knife edge he's been abandoned on.

He should move, should climb into his Jeep and drive back to his loft. He should drink a glass of water, wash the night off him and get some rest. He should, should, should. But he's so fucking tired of doing what he thinks he should. For once, for once, he wants to do what he fucking wants.

And right now there's only one thing he wants.

Buck takes one step, two, three. He raises his fist to knock on the door just as it swings open.

And, stood there like every one of Buck's dreams come true, is a wild and warm-eyed Eddie.

They stare, Eddie glances down at Buck's lips, and they reach for each other as synchronised as they are in everything else. They collide, a tangle of lips and longing and teeth and desire and tongues and yearning, a culmination of a night of lingering looks and flighty touches, a crescendo to a five-year masterpiece of trust and intimacy.

Eddie pulls Buck into his home with hot, clinging hands. Buck follows, as he always does, like a moth to a flame.

Sex may complicate everything, but right then and there, there's nothing quite as simple as want.

#sami rambles #here is ur sex complicates everything callback elke muah <3 #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie fic #buck x eddie fanfic #buddie fanfic #911 fanfic

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xxsycamore · 1 year ago

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Hi, Mo!💕💫 *kisses your forehead* Thank you so much for letting me drop a request!💝

What about Licht Klein + Sex in the open sea?👀 Maybe they decided to go on a little vacation near the sea and things started to get ✨️steamy✨️ because Emma looks too sexy in her little see-through sundress?👀🔥 Let your imagination run wild and finish the rest of it!

P.S. Please don't hesitate to reject the request if it becomes too burdensome for you!

Here's a bunch of kisses and cuddles from your beloved Napo to energize you!😘🫂

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘉𝘦 𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘦𝘢 𝘉𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘦

↬ 🌊 ❝ It's rather see-through. The gossamer makes your underwear visible. It aroused me.❞ It catches her off-guard, bubbles of bliss liquifying into something hot, demanding, flammable. She feels it pooling right in the pit of her belly.

Licht Klein x MC(Emma) • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Semi-public Sex; Frottage; Thigh-fucking; Clothed Sex; Creampie • wordcount: 1,336 • masterlist

a/n: OUHHHH *is kissed on the forehead* 🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕 Of course, Mys!! Your requests are always very inspiring, and writing something spontaneously is always fun! Oh, I can definitely work with that, yes... Oh my god, a Napo-love-booster?! I'm suddenly able to complete this request in less than three days after you sent it...don't look at me... 🙈 Hope you enjoy!! ❤ For Late Summer Rendezvous, prompt 8: Sex in the Open Sea

From head to toe, Emma's form is nothing short of alluring.

With leisure and fun in the way she conducts herself once they gain privacy, and with her dazzling smile never falling from her face, Emma is the epitome of vacation to him. He doesn't need the sea, really. He can rejuvenate at the sight of her alone.

But this is Emma, and the palette of emotions flowing from her smiling lips right into Licht's soul is rich and diverse; it's never just one thing or the other. Just as he's perfectly calm, floating without a care on the sheer sea breeze, he's also excited. He's out there, pliant and carried by the waves, but he's also right here, standing up from his seat hurriedly to cross the distance between them and embrace her from behind. Pouncing on her, almost. She's startled a little, so he withdraws but her giggles come quick to reassure.

"You like the sight, Licht?"

He rests his chin on Emma's shoulder, noting the light perfume she'd applied on the delicate skin of her neck.

"Yes. You make a beautiful sight on the background of the sea."

A troubled noise that signals embarrassment is all Emma can mutter before her lips are captured in a kiss. It's as light as the sea breeze, only briefly scraping against her receptors with refreshment so she can begin to ache for it to fully embrace her. Licht is far more generous in comparison.

He always indulges her. If he breaks the kiss before she does, there must be a hint of urgency coloring his voice.

"Your sundress," he runs a warm hand down her side, fingers sinking softly into her waist. "You're very pretty in it."

Still feeling Licht on her lips, Emma almost abandons speaking in favor of anticipatingly waiting for his return. Hands gripping the railing for balance, her fluttering heart is embarrassed from the pause she made, but a rushed 'thank you' escapes her mouth as she smiles at Licht, half-turning to be able to face him.

Licht's own subtle smile is beautiful to her when he leans in to press it against the side of her face, moving further to whisper in her ear.

"It's rather see-through. The gossamer makes your underwear visible. It aroused me."

It catches her off-guard, bubbles of bliss liquifying into something hot, demanding, flammable. She feels it pooling right in the pit of her belly.

"I'm- I didn't realize-"

"Emma."

Licht takes hold of Emma's fumbling about hands, gently, groundingly. When he's pressed like so behind her, she can't hope to catch a glimpse of his face, so she becomes hypersensitive to his body language for cues. To his voice coming in her ear.

"Emma. Enjoy the sight."

Eyes bored into nothing in particular in the vast open sea beyond them, Emma realizes she's been watching without seeing. And she would be doing exactly that for any following ministration of Licht, his request fairly impossible.

Curiously, she sticks out her rear just a tad, finding that the distance between them is not yet as minimal as it can be.

There it is, the unmistakable hardness of his arousal. The place it touches through layers of clothing burns with heat, or it might be Emma's own arousal that lit the flames. She's always quick to follow. When Licht aches for her, she aches for Licht.

Before she can decide what to do with herself, Licht reminds her he's always got her. A roll of his hips follows, deliciously relieving. A relief she shouldn't be reveling in, her mind alerts.

"We can't— here—"

The next buckle of his hips is shallow and he cuts it short by withdrawing briefly from Emma, hand still holding onto hers on top of the railing.

"This part of the deck is off-limits." It's practically true. Their cabin is situated here, at the back of the ship, and their status naturally comes with provided privacy. "We're hidden from all eyes. It's just you, me, and the sea."

The distance is shortened to zero again, Licht's hips pressing flush against her. Demandingly. His bulge pokes into her backside and she suddenly wishes her dress was even thinner, letting her feel him more, old concerns of its transperity melting in the heat that surrounds them.

Licht has barely touched her, and she's gasping for air, imagining sensations that aren't there entwined with the unmistakable and very real friction created by his hips. The layers still separate them, but Emma feels her insides singing for him; pulsing, clenching and releasing to stimulate the illusion.

"Would you allow me to move your panties aside, Emma?"

Allow him? Emma would beg, and then he would regret begging, with a red face and heaving chest. But Licht is so kind to her. Her nods are enthusiastic.

"Then..." Licht's right hand leaves Emma's, and the shuffle of clothes gets to her ears. Her insides convulse. The scrape of Licht's nails where they sink to take the fabric away together with their sweep is yet another fleeting sensation that falls short of the mark to inflict direct pleasure, but gods, does it leave her dripping. The sea breeze hits her bare, most delicate parts, and it brings a hint of indecency that she strangely enjoys.

She expects the delicious friction brought by the rough textile of Licht's trousers on her clit, and she jumps upon feeling something entirely different instead. Not knowing when Licht managed to free his cock from the confines of his trousers, she winces at the startling sensation of it coming in contact with her glistening folds and the surge of liquid arousal it draws from her. Licht takes advantage of it, burying his cock head in her entrance and withdrawing, coating himself in her slick juices. With the newly added lubrication, it's way too easy for him to slide along the junction of her inner thighs, squeezed between them.

"Emma..." His voice is needy, a gentle 'cooperate with me', accompanied by a delicate but firm hand pressing at the side of her thigh. Cooperate with me, keep your legs tightly shut.

It's easier said than done, because Emma's legs naturally fall open under the weight of her own lust; moved by the instinct to let him in. She does her best, biting on her bottom lip, and Licht praises her with a kiss against her nape.

Using a hand for the first few thrusts, he guides his cock with a controlled slide. The feeling of having nowhere to bottom out is agonizing, as the head pokes out between Emma's thighs. But it just gets him harder as he chases after the pleasure.

His other hand leaves Emma's as well, leaving her to brace herself against the railing alone, as it finds its way south on her front. He rubs over the clothing once he finds her clit, the sensation not too much yet not too faint, and Emma's moans follow immediately. Good. She sounds like she's enjoying herself a lot.

A bit too much, even.

"Licht— I'm—I...—"

With mouth agape in continuous grunts, Licht is stunned by Emma's beauty as she succumbs into the throes of pleasure. By gods, he didn't even enter her body. He feels himself reaching his peak too.

In a flash, he angles his cock again so that the glans are lined up flush against her spasming entrance; and pushes in.

Bending slightly forward, Emma's back arches in electric pleasure as she lets the desire rock through her whole body in a powerful orgasm. She feels spurts of come shooting inside her, her walls clenching hard around the sudden intrusion as her mind melts in pleasure.

Once he gives her all he has to give, Licht carefully pulls out. His hand replaces his cock as he caresses her soft core, creampie oozing on his hand.

Guiding Emma's chin to his waiting lips, he admires the look on her face as she eyes him with a soft, teary gaze.

"I love you, Emma."

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