#I'm too self-conscious to tag anyone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherimoyatea · 4 months ago

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The LaDs Men healing your inner child...

...they accidentally evoke your insecurities and comfort you.

❧ Part IV - Sylus - Tight Threads

Pairing: Sylus x You Synopsis: An ill-fitting dress triggers a panic attack during a date with Sylus. Word count: 963 Tags: sylus being a suggestive little tease, panic attack, body image issue, romance, fluff, comfort Side notes: Welcome to the last part of the mini-series! Fun fact: The plot (some parts at least) is based on true events, but unfortunately, there was no Sylus to comfort me back then 🫠 I refrained from going into details about MC's body type so that anyone can envision themselves in the role. A tight dress can be uncomfortable no matter the size and shape. However. Sylus loves you just the way you are! And with that, this series comes to an end. Thank you for reading 🩷 Part I - Xavier ❧ Part II - Rafayel ❧ Part III - Zayne

Ruby-red eyes gaze at you intently from across the round table as you nervously fidget with your dress. The restaurant he chose is even more lavish than you imagined and your nerves are on edge. In this dress that's way too tight and short, you feel as if you can't breathe, and you can't shake the impression that all the other guests are focused on your insecurities.

''Is everything okay, Kitten? You seem... tense.'' Sylus swirls his glass of red wine between his long fingers while you nervously shift in your chair. You blush as you suddenly feel his gaze on you and adjust your dress again. ''Sylus, I appreciate your invitation, but you didn't need to go this far.''

Maybe you should have mentioned that the custom-made dress didn't fit properly when he handed you the pink paper bag with it earlier. You remember standing in your bathroom, holding it up against your body and squeezing yourself into it while he waited in your living room—hoping he wouldn't hear you curse as you struggled to pull the zipper up at the back.

There was likely a mistake by the seamstress, but you still insisted on wearing it to honor his gift.

The silver-haired man takes a sip from his glass and leans back to make room for the waiter as he approaches your table with your orders. For him, it's just another evening in a high-end restaurant, but he has noticed that you're uncomfortable. ''If you'd prefer, we can move our date somewhere else. Would you like to leave?''

You shake your head as the waiter sets your plate down, unwilling to shift the date elsewhere. After all it's not his fault that the dress was poorly tailored, accentuating all the parts of you that you are self-conscious about. You grab your own glass nervously, hoping a sip of your drink will help calm your nerves. But instead, you both startle as you accidentally tip it over, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Oh dear, how clumsy." You hear whispers from a nearby table, accompanied by giggles, as the waiter gathers the shards from the floor. You can't help but feel sick as you cautiously look around, realizing everyone is staring at you.

Sylus's head immediately swivels toward the table of giggling women, and his serious glare silences them instantly. They sheepishly return their focus to their plates, poking at their food, and you could swear you saw a brief flash of red in his left eye.

But right now, you have other worries.

"Excuse me!" You quickly stand up from the table and hurry through the restaurant, heading to the restroom to escape. Your heart races as you crouch by the luxurious sinks, resting your head on your knees in an attempt to calm your quickening breath. A panic attack, of all times!

Just a few moments later, you hear the door to the restroom open, and someone approaches you slowly, crouching down beside you. Without looking up, you know immediately that Sylus has followed you. He lowers his head with a concerned expression and gently takes your hand. ''I'm here for you. What do you need?''

''T-The… the zipper…'' You stutter as you continue gasping for air, futilely reaching with your free hand for the zipper pull between your shoulder blades. Sylus follows your movement with his eyes and then yanks the zipper down your back in one swift motion. ''Calm, deep breaths, Sweetie. It'll get better soon.''

His rough, calm voice is soothing as he gently strokes your trembling back, careful not to overwhelm you with his presence. And finally, you feel the tension slowly lift from your body for the first time that evening as you take a deep breathe.

Sylus waits patiently beside you, continuing to stroke your back, and after a while, your breathing steadies. ''I'm so sorry… I've ruined the evening.'' You whisper weakly as he gently helps you stand up from the cold marble floor.

''Take off your dress, Kitten.''

Sylus doesn't answer immediately, giving you a moment to steady yourself before he moves closer with a charming grin.

Your eyes widen in surprise at his request, completely caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor as you look at him in disbelief. ''W-What?!''

Your heels scrape against the marble floor as you step back, feeling the sink behind you. This time it wasn't a panic attack that caused your heart to race in your chest! ''Here!? Now?? Are you serious!?''

''Dead serious.'' The attractive giant replies as he almost towers over you. It's only when he grabs a familiar-looking pink paper bag from the floor that his words make sense. Until now, you had been so focused on managing your panic attack that you didn't notice him bringing it into the restroom. He takes out your favorite jeans and a sweater, and hands them to you with a smug grin. ''I took the liberty of borrowing a few things from your closet before we left. I hope you don't mind.''

Surprised by his thoughtful gesture, you take the clothes and press them against your chest. He must have overheard you earlier in your apartment and snuck into your bedroom to get the clothes and empty paper bag while you were busy getting ready. ''But... what about the dress? This casual outfit would be completely inappropriate for a venue as expensive as this.''

You shift your gaze down to the dress, now hanging loosely from your shoulders. The zipper torn at the back. But Sylus shakes his head as he gently lifts your chin with his fingers so his gleaming eyes meet yours again.

''I don't care about that damn dress, Sweetie. You're the only expensive thing in this inappropriate venue. Remember that.''

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

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mcrdvcks · 4 months ago

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not really sure if this classifies as a drabble or a oneshot because it kinda got away from me (it's literally 5k+ words)

anyways, i wrote this with my body type in mind, just because i feel like i don't really see it described a lot, and because i was feeling more insecure than i usually am, i wrote this.

(i'm a size 16, u.s. size if that helps anyone, or makes you feel less alone)

so, i wrote this! i hope it can help someone's day, and, again, maybe make you feel less alone :)

warnings/tags: fem!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, insecurities

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You were always a bit self-conscious about your tits, without a bra- sometimes even with a bra- they sagged, and though they were somewhat large, you were also ‘too young’ for that to happen. But Logan loves to grab your breasts, which are bigger than his hands, and push them up like his hands are your bra.

Logan didn’t seem to care about what you were self-conscious about. In fact, he never let it slide. Every time you’d mention something about your body that you weren’t a fan of, he’d shut it down with a smirk and those rough, calloused hands.

“You think I care about that?” he’d growl, his voice low as he came up behind you. His big hands found your breasts again, squeezing gently, lifting them up like they were made for his touch. “These are perfect,” he whispered into your ear, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

When you first started dating Logan, he was hesitant to let you spend the night with him, concerned he’d hurt you if he had a nightmare.

But after a few months you finally coaxed him into letting you stay the night in his bed. At one point, Logan had traveled down your body, falling asleep with his head on your plush stomach, arm around your hips, perfectly fitting in your hip dip like it was an indention made just for him.

The first time he did that you got anxious, insecurities screaming at you to get him off your stomach; you weren’t exactly skinny.

You ran your hand through his hair and lightly traced your fingernails across his stubbled jaw, waking him up slowly. Logan stirred, his arm tightening instinctively around your hips before his eyes opened.

“Mmm… What’re you doin’?” His voice was rough, gravelly from sleep, and the warmth of his breath tickled your skin as he nestled his face further into your stomach.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whispered, feeling your nerves spike again. “Just…you were sleeping on my stomach.”

He lifted his head slightly, blinking as if he was processing what you just said. “Yeah, so?”

You felt your face flush as you glanced away, biting your lip. “It’s not exactly the best spot…”

Logan didn’t move at first. He stayed still, eyes narrowing as he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you. His free hand came to rest on your side, fingers tracing gentle circles over your skin. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?” he said, voice low but edged with that familiar protective tone.

You couldn’t help the self-conscious laugh that slipped out. “It’s just… I’m not—” you gestured vaguely to your body, “—y’know, toned.”

His eyes darkened, and before you could even finish your thought, Logan was already shifting. In one smooth motion, he had rolled over so that he was hovering above you, his body caging yours in. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I don’t give a damn about that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips pressed against your neck, cutting off any argument you might have had. His hands roamed down your sides, fingers digging into your soft flesh as if trying to ground you in the moment. “You think I’m here ‘cause of how you look? Princess, I’m here ‘cause I want all of you.” He kissed the hollow of your throat, his breath hot against your skin, leaving you shivering beneath him.

“You don’t get it,” he muttered, dragging his mouth lower until he was back where he’d been—his face resting comfortably on your stomach. He kissed it again, lingering this time, his stubble scraping deliciously against your skin. “This? All of this? It’s mine. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan’s arm looped around your hips again, pulling you closer, fitting his body against yours like a puzzle piece. His head stayed on your stomach, refusing to budge as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your hip. His eyes closed, settling back into the comfort of being close to you.

He also loved your thighs, didn’t really realize it until he saw you wear leggings and sat down next to him, the fat expanding.

Ever since then, if you sat close to him, a hand was always on your thigh. When he was driving, he’d rest his hand there, giving you little squeezes that made your heart race. It wasn’t just about claiming you, though; it was his way of reminding you that he was there, that you were his, and he liked being close to you.

In a mission briefing? His hand would still find its way to your thigh, absentmindedly rubbing slow shapes on top, sometimes dipping toward the inner thigh before lazily drifting back up. It was comforting in a way, grounding. Though, every now and then, his touch made it hard to focus on anything else.

You couldn’t help but smirk when the others in the room would glance your way, probably noticing Logan’s subtle touch. It wasn’t like he cared. If anything, his hand would tighten just a little more, like he was daring anyone to say something.

And when you did go on missions with the team, your least favorite part was wearing the skin-tight suit. To you, it showed all your imperfections—your stomach, hip dip, all of it. You’d catch yourself adjusting, pulling at the fabric, trying to smooth it out, even though it never really made a difference. The insecurities always crept up, especially when you stood next to the other team members who looked effortlessly put-together in their uniforms.

Logan, of course, noticed. He always noticed.

“Quit fidgeting,” he’d mutter under his breath, standing next to you while pretending to focus on the mission briefing. His voice was gruff, but there was no mistaking the warmth in it.

You shot him a look, but before you could say anything, his hand slipped to your lower back, rubbing small, reassuring circles. “You look good,” he added, quieter this time, leaning in just enough so only you could hear him. “Always do.”

Despite yourself, you felt a small smile tug at your lips. Logan wasn’t one for sweet words or grand gestures, but the way he’d casually dismiss your worries—like they were so far off his radar they didn’t even register—made you feel better, even if you didn’t always believe him.

During the mission, you tried to focus, keeping your mind on the task at hand. But as usual, Logan had a way of being both protective and possessive without making a big show of it. He stayed close, not in an obvious way, but in that steady, grounding way that only he could. And whenever there was a moment of downtime, you’d catch him glancing your way, eyes lingering just long enough to make you flush.

When the mission finally wrapped, the team was debriefing back at the jet. You were exhausted, mentally drained from the whole ordeal, and your suit felt even tighter after hours of wear. Logan sat across from you, legs spread wide, looking relaxed as ever despite the chaos you had just gone through. He caught your eye and raised an eyebrow, giving you that familiar smirk that always made your heart race.

“C’mere,” he grunted, jerking his head toward him.

You hesitated for a second, glancing around at the rest of the team. But Logan wasn’t asking. He was telling. With a quiet sigh, you got up and made your way over, settling in next to him on the bench seat. His arm immediately looped around your waist, pulling you in close, his fingers finding their usual spot on your thigh.

“Better?” he asked, his voice low as he leaned into you, lips brushing against the side of your head.

You nodded, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away under his touch. His thumb rubbed slow, lazy circles on your thigh, grounding you in a way only he could. It was like he had this unspoken understanding of your insecurities and made it his mission to quietly push them aside.

As the jet hummed beneath you, the team carried on with the debriefing, but you weren’t really paying attention anymore. All you could focus on was Logan—his steady presence, his touch, and the way he made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you could start to see yourself the way he did.

“Stop worrying about that damn suit,” he muttered in your ear, giving your thigh one last squeeze. “You’re perfect, and you know it.”

And you were; he loved how your thighs would squeeze his head when he licked and sucked at your pussy, his growl reverberating through your core. His rough, calloused hands gripped your hips, holding you still as his tongue explored every inch of you, teasing and relentless. The way you clenched around him only spurred him on, his mouth working faster, hungrier, until you were gasping, trembling above him.

"Fuck, you're so good," he muttered between kisses, his voice thick with lust, lips shiny with your slick. He loved how your soft thighs would wrap around him, trapping him there like you didn’t want him to stop—like you couldn't bear to lose the feeling of his mouth against you. And he had no plans of stopping anytime soon.

His stubble scraped deliciously against your sensitive skin, and every time you tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the pleasure, he'd pull you back down onto his face with a growl. His strong grip on your hips kept you right where he wanted you, forcing you to ride his tongue until you couldn’t think of anything but the heat building between your legs.

The way his tongue curled inside you, his lips closing around your clit—god, it was too much. Every brush of his fingers against your thighs, every growl that left his throat, sent you spiraling further into bliss. Your hands fisted in his hair, hips grinding down on his face as he devoured you like a man starved, never once giving you a moment to catch your breath.

When your thighs finally tensed around him, squeezing his head as you came undone, Logan didn’t relent. He lapped at you through your orgasm, groaning into your heat as your entire body trembled with release. Only when you were spent, legs shaking and breath coming in shallow pants, did he pull away, his lips curling into that familiar, cocky smirk as he looked up at you.

It had even taken Logan a while to coax you into sitting on his face—you had protested every time, saying you were ‘too heavy,’ worried you'd crush him. Logan's eyes would narrow at you, his rough voice grumbling through clenched teeth, "You think you’re gonna hurt me? Come on, sweetheart, I can handle a lot more than that."

When he finally got you to do it, his grip was like iron, pulling you down onto his mouth, forcing you to feel just how strong he was. His hands dug into your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, holding you there with a possessive firmness. "I want to taste you," he growled, his voice muffled between your legs, breath hot against your core. "Let go, darlin'. I’ve got you."

The first time, you were still hesitant, barely lowering yourself, but Logan wasn’t having it. His hands clamped down tighter, dragging you down until you were fully seated on his face, your thighs trembling around him. He groaned against your slick heat, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure through you. His tongue worked relentlessly, tracing every sensitive spot, teasing your clit, then plunging deep inside you. Your hands gripped the headboard, knuckles white, unsure if you could take the intensity, but Logan wasn’t letting up.

"Fuckin’ perfect," he groaned, his stubble scraping your inner thighs as he licked and sucked, savoring every drop of you like a man starved. Each time you tried to lift yourself off him, overwhelmed, his grip would tighten, yanking you back down, forcing you to ride his tongue, grinding against his face.

"Logan, I—" You barely managed to get the words out before a sharp gasp cut you off. He growled, pulling you even closer, his fingers digging into your flesh possessively. His tongue flicked against your clit, relentless, sending you spiraling into a state of pure, blinding pleasure.

And the way he’d groan when you finally gave in—fuck, it was like he got off on making you lose control. His arms around your thighs, his mouth working tirelessly, you couldn’t help but come undone, thighs shaking around his head, moans filling the air as waves of pleasure crashed through you. He loved how you’d buck against his mouth, grinding harder as you chased that last bit of ecstasy, his hands never letting go, keeping you exactly where he wanted.

He even noticed how you preferred laying on your back when he fucked you, not that he was complaining, he loved watching your tits bounce with every thrust. It wasn’t until you were on his lap one day, kissing each other fervently as his hand gripped the bottom of your shirt to pull up that you froze.

Logan noticed the hesitation in your body language as you froze in his lap. His hands, always eager to touch, had found the hem of your shirt, lifting it as his lips devoured yours. But the moment the fabric started to rise, you stiffened, that familiar wave of insecurity hitting you. Sitting up like this, your stomach pressing against his abs, always made you more aware of the softness there, the way it rolled when you moved.

His brow furrowed, sensing the change in your energy, but instead of pulling away, Logan held you tighter, his grip possessive yet gentle. "What’s goin' on in that head of yours?" His voice was rough, gravelly with desire, but softened by concern as his hands stilled on your waist, just under your shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin.

You glanced away, biting your lip. “I just... you know,” you mumbled, trying to pull your shirt back down, embarrassed by how exposed you felt in this position. “I don’t look good like this.”

Logan’s eyes darkened, his usual gruff demeanor taking on a more protective edge. He shook his head slightly, gripping the fabric tighter, refusing to let you cover yourself. “Stop that,” he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Logan wasn’t having it. In one swift motion, he tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside before you could even react. His hands immediately returned to your waist, squeezing the soft flesh as if he couldn’t get enough of touching you. "Every inch of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin, lips trailing along your collarbone, "is perfect."

Your stomach knotted with nerves, but Logan didn’t give you time to overthink. His hands slid down your sides, thumbs brushing over your belly, not shying away from the parts of you that made you hesitate. "Feel that?" he whispered, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just above your chest. "That's mine."

You could feel the heat building between your legs, your body betraying your anxieties as his touch ignited a fire in you. You shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but Logan's grip tightened, keeping you firmly in place on his lap. "Don’t move, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as his hands roamed lower, thumbs tracing the dip of your hips. "I want you just like this."

His lips found yours again, more demanding this time, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands guided you to rock against him. You could feel the hardness of his cock pressing up through his jeans, and it sent a jolt of heat straight through you.

“Feel that, princess?” His voice was low, almost a rumble against your lips. “That’s all for you.”

You could barely think, your body moving instinctively, grinding against him, the rough fabric of his jeans only adding to the delicious friction.

Logan’s hands were everywhere—greedy, possessive, tracing the curve of your waist, the softness of your stomach, the roundness of your hips. He lifted you slightly, positioning you just right so your clit pressed perfectly against the bulge in his jeans, and you gasped, hips bucking against him. His answering growl was primal, his fingers digging in harder, encouraging the movement, guiding you as you rode him.

“You like that?” he rasped, his breath hot against your neck as his lips found the pulse point there, nipping at your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

All you could do was moan in response, your head tilting back as his mouth explored the curve of your throat, down to your collarbone.

Logan’s eyes darkened as he stared down at you, your breasts exposed, nipples hard under his gaze. He groaned, leaning forward to capture one in his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak while his free hand kneaded the other, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp. The feel of his mouth on you, combined with the pressure between your legs, was too much. You could feel the heat building, the tension coiling in your belly.

“Lo,” you whimpered, your hands threading through his hair, tugging slightly as your hips moved faster, seeking more friction, more of him.

His grip tightened on your hips, his mouth releasing your nipple with a wet pop as he looked up at you, eyes wild with lust. “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” His voice was a rough whisper, dripping with need. He rocked his hips up against you, grinding into your heat.

You nodded frantically, the pleasure building, pushing you closer to the edge with every roll of your hips. Logan’s hands moved to your ass, pulling you down harder against him as his teeth grazed your neck, his growl vibrating through your skin. The combination of his rough hands, the feel of him beneath you, and the sound of his voice was enough to send you spiraling into oblivion.

“Fuck, Logan!” Your body shook as you came, thighs trembling, head falling back as the orgasm ripped through you, your core pulsing around nothing, desperate for more.

Logan didn’t stop. He held you through it, grinding against you, prolonging the pleasure until you were a trembling mess in his arms. Then, with a wicked smirk, he lifted you off his lap, setting you down on the bed with surprising gentleness.

He had even come to realize that you didn’t necessarily like it when he fucked you from behind, making the same complaints about your stomach, and even the stretchmarks littered on your back.

But every time you brought it up, he'd just shake his head, muttering something like, “damn, woman,” under his breath, like he couldn’t fathom why you were so hung up on those things. He didn't see what you saw. Hell, he loved what he saw, and he made sure to remind you every damn time.

You were on all fours the first time you brought it up, hands gripping the sheets as he pressed against you from behind, his rough hands holding your hips firmly. “I don’t know, Logan,” you had mumbled, face burning with embarrassment, fingers twitching nervously. You knew he could feel it—the way your body stiffened, the hesitation creeping in.

Logan froze, hands tightening slightly on your hips, his body pressed flush against your ass. “What’s goin' through your head this time?” His voice was that low, gravelly growl you loved so much, but there was an edge to it this time. Protective. Frustrated. Hungry.

You shifted awkwardly, biting your lip. “It’s just... I don’t really like being in this position. You can see everything. My stomach, the stretch marks on my back, it’s not exactly—”

Before you could finish, Logan growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you back against him, his cock pressing even harder against your ass. “You think I give a damn about stretch marks?” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin as he leaned over you, his chest pressed against your back, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“You think that shit matters to me? Princess, look at me.” He reached around, his hand wrapping around your throat, pulling your head back just enough so you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek.

“Fuckin' look at me,” he repeated, and you could feel the demand in his voice, the raw, unfiltered desire. Slowly, you turned your head, glancing back at him over your shoulder.

His eyes were burning, pupils blown wide with lust. “You’re fuckin' perfect,” he growled, lips brushing your ear as his free hand slid down your stomach, fingers tracing over the softness there, the skin you were so insecure about, also littered with stretchmarks. “You see this? I love this. Every. Fucking. Inch.”

Logan’s hand moved lower, the possessiveness in his grip undeniable, brushing over your hips and pulling you back toward him. His body pressed against yours with a primal intensity, his cock hard against your ass, radiating heat. His breath, hot and ragged, teased your skin as his hand continued its exploration, fingers slipping between your thighs, spreading your legs apart slightly.

You shivered, caught between your own insecurities and the overwhelming desire coursing through you. The rawness in his voice, the way he handled your body like it was something sacred to him, pushed aside all the doubts clouding your mind.

His lips grazed your neck, voice a low rasp against your skin. “I wanna hear you say it,” he muttered, the roughness of his stubble scraping deliciously over the sensitive skin just below your ear. “Tell me you believe me. Tell me you know how goddamn beautiful you are.” His hand slid up, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple, pulling a soft gasp from your lips.

Your breath hitched, the heat between your legs building with every stroke of his thumb, the way his touch ignited your skin. You were still pinned against him, his chest pressed tight to your back, his cock hard and insistent, nudging between your thighs, demanding attention.

“I—” The words caught in your throat as his hand slid lower, fingers brushing over your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. A gasp slipped out, your hips bucking instinctively into his hand.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he muttered, his mouth now trailing down to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, teasing. “I need to hear it.” His other hand gripped your hip, holding you still, refusing to let you escape the overwhelming sensation building between your legs.

You could feel the weight of him behind you, the solid heat of his body practically burning into yours. He knew exactly what he was doing—pushing you right to the edge, but making you work for it.

“I know,” you finally gasped, voice shaky as his fingers circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure. “I’m perfect.” The words felt foreign on your tongue, but the way Logan growled in approval made it worth it.

“Damn right you are,” he muttered, his lips curving into that familiar cocky smirk against your skin. Without warning, he thrust his hips forward, the hard length of him sliding between your slick folds, not entering you, just teasing—enough to make your breath catch, your body aching for more.

Your back arched, pressing against him, every inch of your skin on fire, needing him. But Logan didn’t give in just yet. His hand stayed between your legs, fingers moving faster, slick with your arousal, while his cock slid against you, the friction almost too much to bear.

“Logan, please,” you whimpered, the desperation in your voice undeniable now. You needed him inside you, needed the stretch, the way he’d fill you completely, the way he always did.

He chuckled darkly, his lips brushing your ear. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, finally positioning himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance. “You ready for me?”

You could barely manage a nod before he gently pushed you back down onto the bed, your face buried in the sheets.

Logan’s hands gripped your hips, firm but careful as he pulled you back against him. The bed creaked beneath you, but all you could focus on was the feel of his skin, warm and hard against yours. You were laid out, face down, ass in the air, and Logan’s body towering over you, radiating heat and raw desire. His breath ghosted across your back as he adjusted your position, pulling your hips up just a bit more, making sure you were where he wanted you.

“Fuck, you look good like this,” he growled, his rough hands trailing over the curve of your ass before he kneaded the soft flesh. A sharp smack followed, the sting spreading heat through your skin, making you gasp. He did it again, his hand coming down harder this time, leaving a mark that he admired with a low rumble of approval.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” His voice was deep, that gravelly tone laced with hunger. Without waiting for an answer, his hand slid down between your thighs, fingers brushing over your wetness, teasing you. “You’re already soaked, darlin’,” he murmured, pushing two fingers inside, making you moan into the sheets. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You could feel the heat of his cock pressed against the back of your thigh as he moved, the thick length of it brushing your skin, making your breath hitch. His hand disappeared for a moment, and then he slapped your thigh hard, the sound echoing in the room. “You like that, huh?” He growled again, the rasp in his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You want more?”

“Yes,” you gasped, pushing back against him, needing to feel him inside you.

Logan chuckled, low and dark, gripping your ass tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he lined himself up with your entrance. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice a rough whisper as he pushed forward, the head of his cock stretching you slowly, inch by inch. You moaned, back arching as he filled you completely, the stretch almost too much, but it felt so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Logan groaned, his hands still gripping your hips as he pulled back slightly, then thrust in again, harder this time, making you cry out. “You take me so well, sweetheart.” His pace was slow at first, each thrust deliberate, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting that perfect spot that made your toes curl.

He leaned down, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin searing into you. “You’re perfect,” he muttered against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Every inch of you.” His hand slid up to your throat, fingers wrapping around it gently, not squeezing, just holding you there, grounding you.

Logan's hips snapped against yours with more force now, driving you closer to the edge with every thrust. Your fingers fisted in the sheets, body trembling as his pace quickened, each stroke deeper, rougher, sending you spiraling toward your release. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you so good you thought you might come undone right there.

“Logan, I—” Your voice broke off as his hand slid down between your thighs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles, pushing you closer, so fucking close.

“C’mon, darlin',” he rasped, his voice thick with lust, hips moving faster, harder, his cock slamming into you with a relentless rhythm. “Let go for me.”

And you did. The orgasm hit you like a freight train, your body shaking, thighs quivering as you came around him, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Logan groaned, his grip on you tightening as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. His hips snapped against you one last time, deep and hard, before he came with a low, guttural growl, spilling inside you.

He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Then, slowly, he pulled out, collapsing next to you on the bed, his arm looping around your waist to pull you close. "Fuckin’ perfect," he muttered again, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsed through you.

It wasn’t a quick change for you, not like a switch you could flip and suddenly everything was better. But eventually you became more comfortable in your own skin, wearing clothing you always thought was cute but never had the guts to buy because you thought you were ‘too fat’ for it.

It started with a simple corset crop top during the summer, paired with high-waisted skinny jeans. You had stood in front of the mirror for a good ten minutes, turning this way and that, trying to decide if you could actually leave the house like this. The top hugged your waist, showing off just a sliver of skin above the waistband of your jeans, and for the first time, you didn’t completely hate how you looked.

Sure, you were still a little conscious about your stomach—there was nothing hiding the pooch like your oversized shirts did—but you also didn’t take it off. You took a deep breath, staring at your reflection for what felt like forever. The crop top was cute, the jeans fit snug, and you didn’t look as bad as you thought you would.

“Look at you,” Logan’s gruff voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t even heard him walk into the room, but there he was, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a smirk.

Your instinct was to cover up, to fold your arms over your midsection, but Logan was faster. He crossed the room in a few long strides, his hands finding your waist, pulling you close before you had a chance to second-guess yourself. His eyes roamed your body, taking in the outfit, and the way his gaze lingered made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.

“You wearin’ this out?” he asked, his voice low as his fingers trailed along the bare skin just above your waistband.

You swallowed, nodding, suddenly feeling a little shy under his intense stare. “Yeah... I thought I’d try something different.”

Logan’s smirk widened, one of his hands sliding up your back, fingers brushing over your spine. “Good. You look fuckin’ incredible, darlin’,” he muttered, his voice gruff, full of that rough affection he never hesitated to show you. “Shoulda been wearin’ stuff like this a long time ago.”

You flushed, trying to shrug it off. “It’s just... different, you know? I’m still not totally comfortable.”

Logan’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until your chest was pressed against his. “Well, get comfortable,” he said, voice firm but soft, his eyes locking with yours. “You’ve got nothin’ to hide. Not from me, not from anyone.”

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re beautiful. All of you. Don’t need to cover that up with baggy clothes anymore.”

A warmth bloomed in your chest, the way it always did when Logan looked at you like this—like he couldn’t believe his luck, like you were the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. And slowly, you started to believe him.

With a small smile, you leaned into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Thanks, Lo,” you murmured, feeling a little more confident with his arms around you.

He grunted, kissing you back with a little more heat, his hands roaming up your sides before settling on your hips. “Don’t thank me, sweetheart,” he growled, pulling you closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Just wear the damn top and make everyone else jealous.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head at him, but the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t settle. He gave you one last lingering look before stepping aside, his hand slipping down to give your ass a playful squeeze as you both headed for the door.

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #james howlett x reader #james howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett fic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett oneshot #wolverine smut

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natailiatulls07 · 1 year ago

Text

It's giving old money

Oscar Piastri x British!Countess!reader

Summary - Oscar and his self conscious girlfriend, who is also a British countess, slowly soft launch their very private relationship however another certain Brit speeds up that process

Warning - swearing, Y/n is self conscious??

Faceclaim - Lila Moss

yourusername

Nights in Monte Carlo x

Liked by friendsusername and 124,674 others

Limited comments

friendsusername Hun we need to do this more often!

= yourusername Oh of course babe

username So jealous of her lifestyleee

username Imagine being her I wishhh

ilovey/nwithmyhearttt

Y/n is at Wimbledon with her friend! I love the blue dress and the natural look <3

Liked by username and 58,739 others

username She's too gorgeousss omfggg

username Can we take a moment for the dress!

username Where is that dress frommm?? It's a fucking need!

= username I think it's Ralph Lauren

= username Thank yewww

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oscarpiastri

A couple of days in London between gps

Liked by aussiegrit and 173,593 others

username Is this post sponsored by Ralph Lauren???

username Wait I recognize that dog, whats going on?!

username Oscar Pastry who is that?

landonorris Be safe bro emoji

= oscarpiastri Thanks mate lol

username It's giving old money

= username it's giving richhh

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yourusername posted a story

username Y/n's new story of Archie, my heartttt

username Ikrr I want to kidnap it LMAO

username Wait Archie looks a lot like the dog in Oscar Piastri's recent instagram post, am I tripping??

username Gurl calm down, I doubt it. They are worlds away from eachother lol

username Yeah I agree, Y/n is too stuck up to make friends with anyone outside her countess/count social circle

yourusername

Let's go racing x

Liked by mclaren and 166,289 others

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username This is new...

username My multiverse of madness!

mclaren Your welcome anytime <3

= yourusername I had the best time, thank you

username Okayyy so anyone wanna say something to me?? :|

username Look okay I'm sorry, maybe you did have an inkling

username Now that I look at it, the dog does very similarrr

username IKRR I think her and Oscar would be cute together lol

username They'd be the perfect old money couple nglll

oscarpiastri posted a story

yourusername

Thank you Melbourne, you're the best x

Liked by oscarpiastri and 178,484 others

Limited comments

username Melbourne? thats random...

username Is this a soft launch????

username Oscar Piastri in the likes, Y/n in Melbourne...where Oscar also is, is Y/n and Oscar soft launching? :3

username Ummm Y/n??

oscarpiastri

Days down in the water with my loved ones are my favourite

Liked by yourusername and 183,864 others

username Blonde hair + Melbourne + beach + Recent events + Y/n's like = Soft Lauch with Y/n L/n

= username Case closed! It has to be herrr

username I love summer break Oscar sm

logansargeant Always remember protectionnn

= oscarpiastri :|

username I need any more pleaseeee

username I mean they are making it very obviousss

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landonorris posted a story

Text (White: Oscar Orange: Lando)

Dude what the fuck

What?!

What you've done?! You've just fucking outed mine and Y/n's relationship!!

Ohhh shit sorry man I didn't think you could see her face in the story I'll delete it now

No don't worry, we're trending on twitter anyways

Yeah sorry Osc, how's Y/n doing?

She's very anxious rn, you know how she is with the publics opinion of her

Oh no maybe distance her from social media

Yeah, I've taken her phone off of her

Ofc sorry again man

Nah dw it was bond to happen

oscarpiastri

Yeah so me and this gorgeous women are dating. We want to keep it private and we hope you will respect our wishes <3

Tagged: yourusername

Liked by landonorris and 203,275 others

Comments have been turned off

#formula one #formula one x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfiction #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x you #mclaren #lando norris

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cheapshrimpysheep · 27 days ago

Note

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#3K followers #3K followers milestone #Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #twst requests #Twisted Wonderland requests #requests #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader

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animasola86 · 2 months ago

Text

F o r g e t f u l 🎀 1 / 4

Your roommate has a dirty secret - you. The only problem is: you can't remember anything about that. And there might be even more problems when you realize just what kind of relationship you have with her.

a dominant woman X a submissive girl with a memory problem

WARNINGS: F!Reader-insert! NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Mistress/pet. Domme/sub. Memory loss. Manipulation. Gaslighting. Praise kink. Dubcon elements. Fingering. Sex toys. Object insertion. Bondage. (More tags on AO3.) WORDS: 5.5k

A/N: Remember: if these tags are not for you, you better turn back now! If you know my other stories, you may be used to my very explicit writing style, but this is still some of the darker stuff, somewhat. It's rough, but there is an actual wlw story buried beneath the depravity, I swear! And: THIS IS FICTION! Nobody got hurt in the making of this series. (By the way, the header is just for aesthetics, it's up to you to decide how Mistress looks like and obviously Reader looks however you want to insert her. I tried my best to keep her neutral.) Another note on the fandom tags: I write characters who could be anyone, so I thought about some kick-ass ladies who may fit the role here. I'm sorry this is not about your favorite character, but maybe it can still somewhat fit? Give it a try :)

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

You're staring at the pictures with your lips parted and trembling, your cheeks warm, a strange tingle in your nape. Your hands are shaking as you file through the prints. They look weirdly professional, good lighting, even better angles, the background is blurry while the focus lies directly on...

You.

It's you in those photographs, you in various positions, you in different outfits... or with nothing at all hiding your curves. Some pictures are just showing certain body parts, some angles you've never seen of yourself, some more flattering than others.

But whatever you see, you can't hide the fact that it arouses you. It's not the subject, you're usually quite self-conscious about taking nudes of yourself (even though you gotta admit that these look quite well made, so surreal that you feel almost proud of yourself), it's actually two things that make your core throb:

One: you are in clearly compromising positions, bent over with your legs spread wide, on your back, bound to the bed with cuffs around your wrists and ankles, or tied up with soft-looking rope in intricate patterns, your body composed in ways you haven't thought possible (or comfortable).

And two: you are always stuffed. There are various objects sticking out of both your cunt and your ass, sometimes there's even something in your mouth that's held open by a spider gag. It varies too, not all holes are occupied all the time, all at once, in some pictures it's just one and it's particularly stuffed and stretched (is that an eggplant?).

Your body reacts more and more as you flip through the thick printed paper. The worst thing about it all:

You can't remember a goddamn thing!

Shame and arousal course through you as you stare at yourself. But you can't put them down, can't stop. In this photo, you're wearing a black leather harness that accentuates your breasts. You're standing, with wide legs, a spreader bar attached to your ankles. You're blindfolded, your arms tied behind your back. It's a series of pictures, you realize.

First from the front, then from the back (your ass cheeks look great with how they're pushed up by the leather straps). You notice something shiny between them: a butt plug with a sparkly diamond base. It's glowing, or blinking as you see in the next picture where the light is gone.

Your insides convulse a little, your muscles clenching around nothing. It's like looking at porn, but you can't ignore the familiarity about the body portrayed. It is undoubtedly yours.

But then again: you've never had anything up your ass, not in your conscious state at least. But here (and in those other pics) you have, and the next print even shows a close-up of the plug in your ass. It's a strangely aesthetic photo considering the unflattering motif and angle, but it certainly does things to you. Though you can't be sure if the tension in your stomach comes from embarrassment, excitement or sheer terror at the revelation that somebody took these pictures of you – and you can't even remember it.

Swallowing hard, you pry your eyes from the prints, your hands still shaking, as you look around the room. Somebody can only be one person. Your gaze scrapes over the shelves around you, full of camera equipment, old-fashioned film containers next to a plastic box full of SD-cards, various lenses and other extras, and then the cameras themselves, three at least, behind glass doors, kept away, like the pictures you found in a large brown envelope hiding in a drawer.

You've been looking for some hair ties, an innocent search, knowing your roommate wouldn't mind, but now you feel as if you've stepped into a different world, uncovering secrets you should have never known about. Even if they are about you.

Taking a shuddering breath, you look back at the pictures in your hands, your cheeks positively aflame now as you trace the blurry lines of your body before the focus shifts to a close-up of your cunt, shiny and reddened, your clit swollen, with black clamps attached to your pussy lips, thin metal chains disappearing off to the sides, holding your folds open while something black and girthy vanishes into your body.

The next pictures show a white-gloved hand gripping the base of the dildo, and you flip quicker through the sheets to create the motion, seeing the toy going in and out of your cunt, guided by the anonymous hand, spreading your core, diving in to retreat with an extra layer of shine before disappearing again, and as you stare at the prints, you can almost feel it moving inside you, a faint memory as your muscles clench and unclench, your arousal building up before it drips into your underwear.

You are torn between being very horny upon seeing these pictures and utterly disturbed. If you could only remember these scenes, then it wouldn't be as bad. But you can't. There's nothing, only fog that slips through your mind's imaginary fingers as you try to catch it, as you try to make sense of this. You feel your heart beating faster while your eyes tear up from staring unblinkingly at the prints in your hands.

This can't be real. Confusion merges with betrayal, your belly feels tense, your heart clenches in rhythm with your walls, your throat closes up as the first tear spills from your lashes.

You let go of the pictures, watching them scatter over the desk and down to the floor, every angle of your body on display, every inch captured in embarrassing detail, your holes filled or gaping, your mouth gagged or stuffed or open, there's drool, there are tears, there's wetness glistening on your skin in almost every shot. Your eyes may be the scariest part staring up at you. They're either glazed over, unfocused, or rolled back and hooded, some bloodshot, some watery, and some look almost defiant, a moment captured in time where you seemingly fought back?

The ones where you're blindfolded are the least terrifying, those are the ones where you can dissociate, where you can imagine somebody else being tied to whatever surfaces there are, tables, benches, beds, chairs, artfully presented, where it's just a body, clad in sexy lingerie and high heels, or adorned with ropes, or in the moments after where the skin is dented by the intricate patterns left behind by the ties.

The close-ups are also getting to you. You've never seen your own cunt or ass up close like this, so again, it could be anyone's holes filled and spread and used by various objects. The sheer amount and variety of them is quite concerning. But it's the unconventional ones that make you shiver, that create that tension in your stomach. The cucumber pushed deep into your ass so only its thinner stalk or whatever its called pokes out. The wide eggplant parting your labia in an obscene fashion, its entire body stuffed into your cunt, creating a slight bulge in your lower stomach.

There's another stack of photos atop a large envelope (the whole drawer seems to be dedicated to just you), and your curiosity gets the better of you after all. It's a series of pictures showing different round objects pushed into your holes. From marbles to ping pong balls to actual tennis balls, they're all shown vanishing into either your ass or your cunt, pushed by a delicate finger clad in a white glove, one after the other, and you can only assume how many would actually fit. It's not a video, you can't be sure, but you can imagine whoever did this to you didn't stop at just one.

Indeed they didn't, as the next photo shows. Another set of hands, also wearing white gloves, is grabbing your ass cheeks and pulling them apart, making your sphincter wink at the camera, before, in the next shot, your hole is gaping, allowing a strange view inside, rosy flesh stuffed with white little balls (you can see at least three, but more are hinted at behind them). You feel a little sick looking at the rest of the series of pictures, where they come back out as your hole puckers, pushing and pushing.

Your body reacts in earnest, your muscles clenching around nothing, deep shivers crashing down your spine. You flip past more of these kinds of photos, until you stop when you see white-gloved fingers poking at your cunt, spreading your lips, gathering your slick that glistens on the surface of the latex gloves, and you let out an audible gasp when the next picture doesn't show them push in, but shows only a wrist (attached to a slender arm) poking out of your stretched hole, gripped by tight skin, suggesting the entire hand is stuck inside you.

Your stomach gives a nervous growl at the sight, your breath hitching in your throat. You swallow thickly, your nostrils flaring as you force yourself to breathe through your nose to calm yourself. The stack of pictures shakes in your hands as you flip through more extreme insertions, more vegetables, some fruits, an entire apple made it up your cunt apparently, while they went from using one cucumber in your ass to at least three, stretching your rim impossibly wide. The sight alone makes your asshole clench violently, and you wonder why you never felt sore after being stuffed so full and spread so wide.

But your body seemingly adjusted, returned to its former state, unharmed, giving no hints at what actually happened to you. Strange. It's almost as if this happened to somebody else after all. But it didn't. It is your body. You may not know your cunt or ass up close, but you recognize the rest, your boobs, your arms, your belly, your legs, your feet, the birthmarks that make you you. It is you in these pictures, in every single one.

Only you.

A strangled sob escapes you as you look over the desk, seeing more and more envelopes, hiding in plain sight, more prints, some smaller, some bigger, all filled with motifs of your body being used in various fashions, one more degrading than the next. Shame settles low in your stomach, like a heavy weight that makes it hard to breathe. Your head is spinning, blood rushing in your ears so loudly you are startled back into reality as you suddenly hear the creaking of the door.

Footsteps follow, before someone clears their throat.

You whip around, dropping the last pictures you were holding, more shots of your stuffed cunt, wet and glistening as it's assaulted by more household items. Your eyes widen when you see your roommate in the door frame, a smug smile on her beautiful face as she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Oh hi,” she says in a nonchalant tone, tilting her head. “What are you doing here, pet?” she adds, and you frown at the nickname, a strange sensation crashing through your nerves.

“I... uh... I was looking for...” you stammer, taking a step away from the desk and the mess you made by dropping all those prints. “A hair tie,” you whisper breathlessly, curling your shaking hands into fists as you stare at her. “What... what are these? Did you take them?” you then ask, your voice trembling as much as your shoulders while you look from her back to the discriminating evidence you found by accident.

Your roommate sighs, unfolding her arms as she walks towards you. She's taller than you, slender and still curvy in the right places, her long hair falling over her slim shoulders. You force yourself to look into her eyes and not get distracted by the cleavage her tight dress creates or how close she is. She stops right in front of you, looking down, a softer looking smile curling her full lips.

“You know I did,” she says quietly, reaching up a hand to caress your cheek with the back of her finger. You shiver under the touch, but don't flinch away. “You agreed to this, remember?”

“No,” you breathe out, blinking quickly as you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Shh, it's okay, pet, don't worry. You did. I would never do anything to harm you,” she whispers, leaning closer until you feel her hot breath on your lips. “You wanted to be my muse, you begged me for it,” she adds, biting her lip sensually before leaning in to press her warm mouth to the corner of yours.

You stiffen, eyes widening, your heart nearly exploding in your chest. You can't remember any of this. Why is she saying that? She is just your roommate!

You moved in only a few months ago, replying to an ad you saw on the bulletin board of your college dorm. A cheap room in a good neighborhood, your own room, away from the distractions of having to live with people you don't like or know that well, it sounded too good to be true. But it was true, and the woman looking for roommates was so nice, so enticing. You met her at a neutral place, to get to know her (fall for her charm), before she showed you the apartment, and you moved in later that week.

It was perfect. Until it wasn't. Not that you noticed it right away. You just never saw her. Now that you thought about it, you can only (barely) remember going to your classes (you are still going to your classes, right?), while the rest of the day is somewhat of a blur. You can't, however, remember going to your job at the coffee shop (do you still have a job? How are you paying for this place?), and the more you try to remember, the more holes come up, black and all-consuming.

You frown as you stare at her. She leans back slowly, watching you. Her hand is on your face, the pointy nail of her thump scraping over your bottom lip as her long fingers caress the shell of your ear.

“No need to worry, pet,” she says quietly, her voice a low soft thrum, rich like honey, that tickles something inside you that you've fought all your life. Why does she keep calling you 'pet'? And why does it affect you so much? “Everything is just fine. And I'm not even mad that you just went into my room like this. I told you you shouldn't, didn't I?”

You swallow as she lowers her hand and closes it around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. You feel your pulse throbbing against her palm. “I'm sorry,” you gasp out.

She smiles at you, moving her hand even lower, teasing her fingertips along the neckline of your shirt. “It's okay. You know the consequences. It'll be fine.” You furrow your eyebrows, breathing harder, not understanding anything. “Not the first time, hm?” she adds, giving you a wink. Her words make no sense, your head is hurting with how tight you pull your eyebrows together, and with all the thoughts and questions whirling about in a wild dance of confusion.

“I... I don't –”

“Shh,” she shushes you, her hand gripping your chin. You freeze. “Be a good pet and go back to your room. I'll clean this up. Put on the clothes I chose for you. Wait for me when you're done. Do you understand?”

You stare at her, your body tensing up, your cunt clenching hard around nothing. Her words, the cadence of her voice, the dominant tone, it all brings you to do one thing, your mind emptying as words spill from your trembling lips. “Yes, Mistress.”

You don't even know where these came from. Mistress? Pet? What is going on? But your body moves on auto-pilot, your mind swirling, still fighting the confusion, but also easing into a strange void, triggered by words you've heard before, or so it feels, commands you've answered many times in the past.

She lets go of your chin, giving you a warm smile, even though her eyes are dark and somewhat cold, and you nod, bow your head and shuffle out of the room, your legs trembling as you make your way back into your bedroom across the hall.

For a moment you're wondering how you got here, why you're here, but then your gaze falls onto a pile of clothes on your bed. You walk closer, picking up item after item. A short black skirt, pleated, barely long enough to not be considered a belt. A tight tank top, white and almost see-through. A set of fancy black underwear, a lace bra with an intricate flower pattern, a thong of similar design. There's also a pair of sheer black stockings, a garter belt and straps to attach each piece together.

Your stomach tenses at the sight. You've seen these pieces before, in the photos you shouldn't have seen. It's a blur how you put them on, your head spinning, your hands shaking, but you still somehow manage to dress in time before you hear footsteps on the floorboards outside your room. Your heart beats faster, your chest heaving, tight in the bra and top, straining, something cold crashing down your spine before it gathers hot and pulsing right between your legs.

Before the creaking of the door announces your roommate, you suddenly fall to your knees, your feet tucked under your rear, your hands automatically finding purchase in your lap, folded neatly as you stretch your back and square your shoulders, breathing deep as you train your eyes straight ahead, waiting for the door to open. You have no idea what made you assume this position, why it feels so familiar, so safe in a way.

Your roommate (your Mistress) enters your bedroom, her high heels thudding over the carpet as she walks up to you, tilting her head as she watches you closely. “Stand,” she says, and you do, your legs moving seemingly on their own. Once you stand, stiff with your arms pressed to your sides, chest pushed out, your neck straight, eyes wandering over the tall frame in front of you, she nods. “See? You haven't forgotten. Good girl,” she says, and the praise shoots through you like a pistol shot, straight into your clit, making it throb and ache, your heart beating in the same hurried rhythm.

She walks around you then, her long fingers brushing over your bare arms, around your shoulders, down your spine, until she gives your ass a soft slap, making you gasp quietly. She repeats the motion, but this time, she leaves her hand on your cheek for a moment, squeezing it, her fingernails digging into your soft skin. You stiffen, breathing a little harder.

“You're so beautiful,” she whispers as she leans into you, looming behind you, her breath ghosting your jaw. “My perfect little muse.”

You feel her lips brushing against the soft spot behind your ear, a hot kiss that makes you shiver, while her hand gropes your ass, fingertips teasing at the thin fabric of your thong tucked between your cheeks.

Suddenly she leans back, lets go of you, and you hear her walking a few steps before she stops, a deep sigh echoing through the room. You turn around slowly, unsure if you should, but when you do, you freeze as you watch her pick up the glass of water on your bedside table.

“Baby, I told you to drink more,” she says with a tilt of her head. “You always forget, hm? So busy, head always in the clouds...” She walks back to you, holding the glass in front of you, her eyes boring into yours as she waits for you to grab it. You do, your hands shaking. “Drink up, pretty girl. You know you need it.”

She's so caring, you think as you bring the water to your lips, holding her gaze, but as soon as you feel the cold liquid running down your tight throat, an image flickers before your eyes. Your roommate (Mistress) sitting on your bed, moving a clear glass straw in a stirring motion, swirling the water, making a faint sheen of powder disappear. You feel as if you've watched her do that many times. What is that? What did she put in here? Vitamins? Or something else?

But you can't even question it further, can't find the courage to ask, when you realize you've drank the whole thing, every drop of water (and whatever else was in there) now in your stomach. “Good girl,” she praises and smiles at you, before she takes the glass from your clammy fingers and puts it back on your bedside table. “Now let's get you ready for our big night out, yeah?”

You frown, another faint memory peeking through the fog in your head. It seems to be getting thicker now. Strange. But this image, you still see somewhat clearly before you. You had plans tonight, you remember now, you wanted to go out. Where? No idea. But you needed a hair tie. Yeah. That's why you went into your roommate's room in the first place. Some details are blurry (were you supposed to go out with her? Have you done that before? Why would you? You barely know the woman...), but somehow they don't matter anymore.

She steps back in front of you, her fingers vanishing in the cleavage of her dress before she pulls something from between her breasts. You blink in confusion as you recognize the shape. It's a metal butt plug. And she stored it between her boobs? Interesting.

“Open wide, pet,” she tells you, and without even questioning it, you part your lips and let your tongue roll out. She looks pleased as she puts the rounded object into your mouth. It's warm, and the taste triggers something else in you. Another familiar sensation. It's her, you know without knowing, her taste, sweet and a bit salty, exploding on your tongue, sinking deep, causing soft shivers to crash down your spine, something hot gathering low in your gut.

You've had your face on her chest before, huh? Must be. Your cheeks burn up badly, your breaths loud through your nose as you suckle on the butt plug between your lips, your eyes scanning the pretty face looking down at you. She keeps her fingers on the base, pushing the object in and out, and you find yourself licking around it, coating it in your saliva. Like you've done before. You think.

She watches you before she lets go of the plug and puts her palm over your mouth. “Keep it nice and warm for me, okay?” she says, leaning closer until her nose brushes against yours. You give a jerking nod, tightening your lips around the narrowest part of the plug while its body rests hard and heavy on your tongue. “Good.”

You feel saliva pooling in your mouth, and the urge to swallow becomes stronger. But you focus on the woman in front of you as she straightens up again, her hands on her hips. Her whole presence, her aura, has you in its grip, you feel, it's impossible to fight it, to protest, to do anything except the things she demands of you. All it takes is a look, a word, her voice driving through you like an electric current that controls your every limb.

And so you move when she tells you to turn around and bend over, and as you rest on your forearms on the edge of your bed, she nudges your legs apart and steps between them, her hands sliding under your skirt and pushing it up. You stiffen slightly, breathing harder, your heart thundering inside your chest, but you can't object, you don't want to. You just endure.

And a tiny part of you, through the fog in your head, lights up, a growing heat that creeps down your spine, tenses in your stomach, seeps lower until it gathers in your core, scorching, wet, and it's all you feel when she pushes your thong aside and moves her fingers along your slit, dipping gently between your puffy lips and into your slick, the loud squelching noise making your ears burn.

She prods at your entrance, teases your clit, but then she moves up again, and without warning or command or reassuring words pokes right against your puckered hole, and as you gasp around the plug in your mouth, flinching slightly, she stretches your rim and pushes into your ass, a slim finger, a pointy fingernail, digging against your tense muscles. In and out it goes until there are two fingers, then three, and it burns, the friction too much, like little daggers poking at your nerves.

“Come on, pet, relax,” she says from behind you, moving her fingers deeper, curling them, pushing and prodding against protesting muscles. “You've done this before. You're a pro at this, remember?”

Her words bring up the hazy memories of the pictures you saw, of the various items wedged into your tight ass, and some just don't make sense. Three cucumbers? Really? While it already feels like too much when she 'only' has three slim fingers inside you? How did you manage that? Your stomach gives a distant growl as drool slips past your tight lips and onto your bed.

“Fine, I'll lube you up this time,” she sighs and removes her fingers with a strangely wet pop. This time? She doesn't usually? It's almost as if you can remember the pain of the dry friction, but then why can you never remember any soreness afterwards? Confusion lingers on your mind as you hear her footsteps leaving the room.

You remain in your bent-over position, your hands clawing at the sheets as you suckle mindlessly on the metal plug in your mouth, trying to make sense of it all. You come to no conclusion whatsoever when she eventually returns, and you hear the squirt of some liquid before you can feel it. Large dollops of something cold pressing against your tight hole. You groan against the object between your lips as she pushes deeper, her fingers, slick and cold, sliding in and out again.

This time she stretches your hole by scissoring her fingers, knuckles digging into your tense muscles, and you hear another squirt and something cold lands on your hot skin, slipping right into you. You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your exposed skin. She keeps doing that, filling you up with more and more lube, you assume, her fingers pushing it deep, coating your insides. It's a strange sensation, but again, this feels somewhat familiar, and triggers more memories you seem to have suppressed before, or forgotten.

You see yourself strapped to a reclining chair, your legs raised up in some sort of stirrups, ankles tied and wrists bound to the armrests. You're naked, and she is kneeling between your wide open legs in front of a large plastic bucket or something like it, and there's a tube inside your ass, something cold (water?) pressing through it and into you, and you see and feel it filling you up, your stomach bulging, and you feel sick, your insides cramping, but you can't say anything, there's a gag in your mouth, so all you can do is squirm in your restraints, until you feel a different sort of pain as she slaps your mound with a force that makes you cry out, makes you flinch remembering it, and she keeps at it, hitting your clit with precise blows until it's all puffy and throbbing badly, and you throw your head back and whine helplessly, your belly still bulging, filling up, while her voice coos into your ear:

“You want to be clean, pet, don't you? So we gotta clean you up properly. You don't want to be dirty for our guests, now do you?”

You frown deeply as those words echo in your cloudy head. Guests? But the question vanishes slowly, replaced by the sensation of her fingers digging deep into your ass, spreading more lube, and in the back of your mind you're just glad she isn't giving you another enema. A strange thought to have, but it makes sense in the dizziness that holds you hostage. Breathing harder, you press your forehead into the bed, swallowing hard around the plug in your mouth.

As she works on (in) your ass, you start to feel a tingle in your neglected pussy, a spasm deep within, a little clench, a needy little urge, and instead of holding still, you find yourself grinding your rear into her hand. She stops immediately, a deep sigh escaping her as she pulls her fingers out of your ass and grips your nape with her wet hand. You shiver and stiffen, holding your breath as she pulls you into a standing position.

Her free hand grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out of your mouth where it clangs against your teeth, causing you to flinch. You swallow the excess spit and take a shuddering breath as you feel the warm metal pressing between your ass cheeks. With how she worked you open, it slips in easily enough, and your muscles clench slightly around its narrow neck, but it's only after she smacks your soft cheek a few times in rapid succession, making you whine and shudder as your skin tightens, that you're tensing up enough to hold it in place.

She lets go of you and spins you around, then holds out her hand to you, her fingers glistening in lube and your own wetness. “Clean,” she says, and even though your stomach makes a loud grumble of protest, you find yourself leaning in and closing your lips around her slim fingers. A strange taste of artificial strawberry and something else, something tangy and your own, floods your senses, but you close your eyes and flick your tongue around her digits, focusing on the task and not on the taste and the origin of it.

Eventually she pulls her hand away and pats your cheek, leaving a trail of saliva on your warm skin. Your eyes flutter open as she leans around you and adjusts your thong, pulling it back in place, then pushes your skirt down again. Her eyes meet yours, the gaze intense, creating another soothing wave of heat that rolls over you gently, that makes you clench around the plug in your butt. A smile grazes her full lips, and you find yourself smiling back.

“Alright, now put your hair up, get your shoes and your coat, and wait by the front door,” she tells you as she steps away, holding your gaze until you nod obediently. Your mind is reeling at this point, confusion and arousal warring inside of you. What is happening?

You don't know, and you don't seem to care too much either as you start moving, following her orders. You end up on your knees again, right by the door, waiting like a dog, and the image couldn't have been more fitting when you see her approaching with a strange leather band in her hands. You blink when she crouches down before you and fixes what you can only assume is a collar around your neck. It sits tight enough to notice it, but you can still breathe freely and swallow against it without it restricting you in any way.

You're still confused why you need this (and why you accept it so easily). Your roommate (Mistress) cups your face and looks at you with a warm gaze that makes you bite your lip, her hands rubbing over your cheeks before she tugs her thumbs under your chin and lifts it so she can lean in and press her lips to yours. Your eyes flutter shut as you part your lips and meet her tongue, the kiss deep and soft, gentle gliding of tongues and lips, a warm gesture, sending sparks through your nerves that make you throb with a need that feels both familiar and eerily unknown, frightening.

A single thought ricochets through your empty head: You would do anything for this woman.

“My beautiful pet,” she whispers against your tingling lips, the tip of her tongue tracing the corner of your mouth. “Are you ready?”

Without thinking, without wondering what for, you nod eagerly, a breathless “Yes, Mistress.” leaving your swollen lips. She gives you another peck and stands up then, snapping her fingers in a way that leaves no room for interpretation. You stand immediately, swaying slightly on the high heels you were told to wear. You're still smaller than her, but having to look up only amplifies the sensation coursing through you. Your devotion for her.

She grabs a large bag and shoves it into your hands, and you know by the weight and feel of it, that it holds camera equipment. A distant memory shimmers behind your glassy eyes, of stumbling into her room, finding those envelopes in the drawer of her desk, of flipping through countless pictures of your naked body, of your holes being stuffed and stretched, of being tied down, of letting her do with you whatever she wants. What has disturbed you earlier is barely worth a flinch now.

It's what you do. It's what you are. Her muse. Her pet. She chose you and you obey. It's what you do, it's what she does. She's your Mistress, after all.

1 🎀 2 🎀 3 🎀 4

End notes: Yes, our dominant lady here is indeed inspired by a character from my other (m/f) Dom/sub story: Infatuated: Mistress.

By the way, a little disclaimer at the end here as we go to the next (heavier) chapters: I am not a BDSM professional or expert, I am a writer with a dirty mind and access to the Internet. This is fiction, gaslighting people is bad, consent is very important, but when a hot lady tells you to do something, you gotta do it, that's the law (jk). Please see this as what it is: a fantasy and nothing more.

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Saturday!

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

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klausysworld · 3 months ago

Note

OMG I NEED A FIC OF A THREESOME OF READER, KLAUS AND CAMI !! IM BEGGING😫😫 what the storyline or plot line is, is completely up to you💕

(Warning: Y/N is intoxicated but it is all consensual)

The One For Them

I felt a little intimidated, sat beside a very attractive man who's eyes had trailed my body almost a dozen times. Each time his alluring eyes met mine, I would turn my head away as quickly as possible, trying to shift my focus on anyone else.

Almost every time my eyes would drift to the bartender, Camille her name tag informed me. I would admire her hair and the way her blouse shifted to show a thin band of her soft skin before the top of her jeans hid the rest. However sometimes she would catch my gaze too and I'd go back to the man beside me.

It was stressful in the most exhilarating way, my nerves was on edge and tingling through my body.

I tapped anxiously on my glass, it had been empty for a small while now but I couldn't find the words to ask for anything more and I felt too self-conscious to get up and leave.

Eventually a glass was pushed in front of me but not by the bartender. The man had slid an amber liquid within my reach. "It'll take the edge of, sweetheart." He told me, a smirk on his lips right before the woman's voice cut in.

"Klaus, she's too young to be drinking anything that strong." Camille scolded and my mind absorbed his name into memory.

"Don't be ridiculous, love. You're old enough, aren't you sweetheart?" His voice was like a purr that crawled along my spine, spreading a strange warmth across my skin.

Hesitantly I glanced to Camille and gave a faint nod to which her expression softened from the previous annoyed look she held.

"You don't have to drink it, he's just trying to get you drunk-" She whispered and Klaus scoffed.

"I'm just helping her to loosen up, she's feeling all nervous." He argued and my eyes flickered between them, taking in their bickering and realising that they were definitely a couple.

That made me feel even more awkward. Without really thinking I pushed my stall out and got up only to have my forearm grabbed, his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

"Don't go running, sweetheart. I just want you to have a drink with me, with us. Don't you want a drink with us?" He mused, eyes looking up at me with an authoritative stare which made me sit back down.

"You're scaring her." Camille whispered in a sing song and I shifted a little uncomfortably as if confirming her assumptions. In response his grip loosened on my arm and his thumb caressed over my pulse point.

I glanced up to the bartender, trying to gauge her reaction to her presumed boyfriend almost holding my hand. She wasn't looking at him though, her eyes were on mine. It was a little confusing, the whole situation. My eyes glance around the bar, not really noticing anybody before I ended up looking back between them.

Klaus turned my wrist and placed the glass of whiskey against my palm, urging me to try it.

I could feel them both watching as I lifted it to my lips and let the liquid flow down past my tongue, the heat within my throat wasn't entirely unpleasant though the unfamiliar burn made my chest produce a harsh cough in retaliation.

Camille's laugh was amused but not mocking as she took the drink away from my hold.

"I'll fix you something sweeter, honey." She told me and got to it.

Time ticked by and my body started to feel lighter and heavier at the same time, my thoughts much freer. There was a gentle buzz throughout my insides which made me laugh each time either of them said anything even the slightest bit funny.

By the time Camille's shift had ended my cheeks hurt from smiling and Klaus's arm was round my waist, helping me up from my stool. Camille's hand was holding mine, her nails were short but her fingertips still drew hypnotising circles into my skin which made my head lull.

"Oh, sweetheart, head up." Klaus's voice reminded me, helping my head back onto my shoulders as we wondered through the streets. The music and the chatter and the screaming made my head ring and for a second I felt my breathing stop, my mind blank.

"Hey...you're okay." She told me, her voice soft like a mothers. "I shouldn't have given you so many drinks...I thought you'd be alright."

"She is alright." Klaus's voice echoed, so much louder than Camille's. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." He muttered, a bit quieter this time as he knelt down beside me.

"Where am I?" I mumbled, my throat scratchy.

"Our home." Klaus grinned, his face looking down at mine. "Specifically our couch." He chuckled, hand on my arm making the hairs across my body raise.

Camille helped me sit up, her hands on my shoulder as she tucked a strand of hair about my ear.

My eyes glanced to her lips, unable to focus on the sound they produced, only the way they moved. The couch dipped behind me, I felt it as my body shifted. I tried to click my senses into place but two hands on my hips made my head drop to see.

Klaus had me in his grip, but it wasn't harsh or painful; just firm.

"You're so perfect." Camille's voice whispered, my attention finally finding the sound. My cheeked blushed pink and I looked up at her shyly.

Klaus's hands lifted me back and onto his lap, I felt my body tense for a second as I felt myself rest against his bulge. I whined quietly, looking down to see but I couldn't.

"It's okay." Camille told me gently, hands back on my cheeks to guide my gaze back to her. I looked up at her, a small nervous lump in my throat which was long forgotten when her lips pressed to mine.

The bubble of air caught in my throat as her mouth moved against mine. My eyes closed and I leaned into it, my hands shakily lifting to touch her but I wasn't sure I should. My lips parted in slight surprise when her fingers wrapped around my wrists and pulled my hands onto the sides of her covered breasts.

I couldn't help but feel the firmness of them against my palms. I squeezed almost hesitantly, my mind spinning as I felt Klaus's hardness rubbing between my thighs. His hands slid up to my waist, lifting my shirt at the same time.

Camille's hands pushed my hair back, out of face and she let our foreheads press together. "You're such a good girl." She praised and glanced up to Klaus. "Please be gentle on her? I like her."

"Hush, love." He mumbled, his fingers un-popping the button on my jeans, urging my attention bad down.

"You...you do this a lot?" I ask, confused.

"Only when we find someone deserving and you, my love, are so deserving...so right for us." He murmured, his lips brushing over my shoulder. I glanced down, confused my my lack of top.

"I don't understand." I whispered and Camille kissed my cheek.

"We just want to see you, feel you. Enjoy you." She whispered, her voice making me shudder.

"You'll be taken care of, sweetheart." Klaus muttered, his hands now on my bare thighs since he must've gotten my pants off. "I'll be gentle; this time."

"Okay..." I whisper, complying and Camille grinned happily whilst Klaus's fingers stroked the edges of my folds.

I let out a whimper, my hips lifting at the unexpected sensitivity, the alcohol still in my system and raising my nerves.

Camille let out a little laugh and rubbed my back, unclipping my bra as she did so. I curl my fingers into my own palms, Klaus's fingers slid through my wetness; stroking meanwhile Camille's fingers circled and brushed past my nipples.

So many sensations were pricking at me all at once, my eyes drooped as Camille's tongue wrapped around one of my nipples and two of Klaus's fingers stretched me open.

"Mmh.." I moaned softly, my body arching toward both of them. My hips started to rock involuntarily, effectively riding his hand.

"That's a good girl." I heard Klaus's voice murmur, low and gravelly. "I bet you'll feel so beautiful on my cock, sweetheart." I could only moan in response, his words filled my mind with filthy images whilst Camille bit down on my hardened but before swapping to the other one.

My pussy clenched when a third finger was squeezed into me, all three curling so perfectly that I felt my legs quiver. After a moment the warmth was missing from my chest and Camille's arms were around my wait, encouraging my hips to bounce up and down eagerly.

"I cant wait to taste you." Cami whispered and I felt my cheeks heat up before her lips took mine, her mouth swallowing my moans down as Klaus's hand sped up and took me over the edge and my eyes closed to focus on the bliss.

My body was coddled to Camille's bare chest when my eyes opened again, her hand was stroking the side of my face and I could feel Klaus's hand smoothing my leg and knee.

"You're so beautiful when you come undone." Cami murmured with a soft smile on her lips which made me blush again.

"Indeed, sweetheart. You are quite the sight." Klaus chuckled, his lips kissing my knee before I felt the bed around me now dip.

"Did we move?" I mumble and Klaus hummed.

"Poor thing, blacked out for a moment. Your whole body was shaking like a leaf, my dearest Camille had to clean you up with her tongue. We figured the bed would be a comfortable place for you for the rest of the night." He informed me, his voice was soothing in a way; perhaps it was just the accent.

I nodded a little and nuzzled into Cami's chest, feeling the softness of her breasts. I felt Klaus's fingers in my hair, pushing me down slowly until her spread legs were waiting patiently for me. I complied, my lips pressing soft kisses to her inner thighs before Klaus guided me to her pussy.

Hesitantly I licked along her folds, her taste sweet and addictive on my tongue. "Good girl, I bet that tongue know lots of tricks doesn't she?" Klaus teased and chuckled.

I wanted to look up at him, see the look in his eyes as he held me down but I wasn't in any position to move.

My eyelids drooped but stayed open enough to see the pinkness of her pussy as I sucked on her clit. I could faintly hear her whining and moaning but the soft manly grunts made my brows furrow in confusion.

I pulled my head up to look, my eyes locking with Cami's lust filled ones before seeing Klaus's hand wrapped around his thick cock, pumping himself teasingly as his other hand pushed my head back down into his partners cunt.

I dipped my tongue into her entrance, my lips sucking and my mouth pushing close to gently nibble at the sensitive flesh. I hummed pleasantly against her when her pussy started grinding into my mouth, her clit all swollen and needy.

My eyes closed when her taste flooded my mouth, I lapped at her folds gently until I was sure she was clean.

The hand in my hair tugged me up, lifting my head up before shoving it back down onto Klaus's cock. His head sliding straight through my mouth and nudging the back of my throat, I choked lightly around him but I didn't mind.

I kept suckling, ignoring the way my saliva dripped down his shaft as he pulled me back up. My eyes rolled back, catching sight of his groaning face as his cum filled my mouth.

They each tasted so different and yet equally delicious, both making me desperate for more.

"Good girl, come here." Klaus's voice commanded and I felt a little hazy as I sat up and looked to him, seeing him pat the space infront of him. I sit facing him but he chuckled and span me round, lifting me by my hips so my ass was up for him.

I let out a whimper when I felt his cock penetrate me from behind, klaus had left his gentleness for the time being, his pace immediately fast and rough making me cry out but not entirely from pain.

There was an element of beauty that entangled itself with the sting, masking the hurt and making me moan instead of cry.

I could feel Camille's hands in my hair, her lips on my ear as she begged me to be louder. Klaus was deep inside me, pushing and stroking against all the right spots until my entire mind, body and being were completely out of control, drawing a blank. It felt like I was seizing with uncontrollable pleasure, my body clenching and trembling around him, against her.

It was messy, sticky and hot. I couldn't help but love it.

Even once I was laid, covered by a thick blanket with my eyes unable to open from exhaustion. I still loved it.

The faint conversation of the couple played beside me as a large hand rested against my hip.

"This one's perfect, Klaus." Cami told him, her tone almost desperate.

"We'll see how she does, my love." Klaus assured her and that was all I was conscious enough to remember.

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ken-dom · 1 year ago

Text

Ken’s First Orgasm

Ken x reader

1.1k words

Summary: Since Ken entered the real world, he’s been experiencing some… feelings (AKA a good orgasm might calm him down)

Author’s Notes: It’s smutty, it’s tongue-in-cheek, it’s a little bit silly… just take it for what it is, enjoy the Kenergy and have fun 🩷

This was my first Ken fic, originally posted to my main blog under the title 'Ken's First Time.' Due to a tagging issue on my main, I'm reposting my works here to have everything in one place.

Warnings/content: NSFW, 18+, first kiss, first orgasm, making out, dry humping, hand job, gn!reader, Ken’s self doubt and nerves (and crying)

‘I’ve been getting these… urges, like, there’s something stirring deep inside me that I can’t seem to tame,’ Ken uttered huskily, fingers toying with the hair by your ear. ‘I think it might be because I’m craving… this.’

Biting his lip, he stared deep into your eyes, the heat of his gaze dropping down to your lips before slowly leaning in.

When you followed his lead, breath quickening as you tilted your head, he faltered, pulling back with a quiet growl and balling his fists in frustration.

He had hung on your every word all day, never taking his eyes off you for a single moment. And you’d noticed the way he lit up every time you looked at him… but now, you began to wonder if you’d done something to put him off.

‘Ken?’ you breathed carefully.

‘I- I’ve never…’ he hesitated.

Oh. That’s all it was. You dipped your head to meet his sparkling eyes again.

‘You’ve never kissed anyone?’ you asked gently, lifting your palm to rest softly against his handsome cheek.

Ken cleared his throat and forced a smile. ‘I’ve tried. Lots of times.’ He lifted his chin with mock confidence, as though trying to kiss was some sort of proud accomplishment. ‘You know how it can be.’

‘It’s alright,’ you soothed, rubbing your thumb soothingly over his cheekbone. Your mind raced with what else he probably hadn’t done either, the thought causing heat to pool at your core. ‘We’ll take it at your pace.’

The silky tone of your voice and the comfort of your words made him feel… dizzy? He blinked his gaze away, blushing. Feeling it again. That pull of something deep in his gut that made him want to submit himself to… whatever it was his body was craving so much. Damn it, he really needed to just get over it and kiss you.

You smiled warmly, leaning in again with pause enough to allow him time to decide. To your delight, he pressed forward, lips crashing soft and wet against yours, and as you parted your lips to encourage his tongue, he moaned loudly into your mouth while his fingertips drove hard into the flesh at your waist.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, it was suddenly hard to remember to breathe, his needy whines and desperate grabbing clouding your thoughts, causing your legs to tremble, but eventually you pulled away, panting.

‘Wow, Ken… that was-’

‘Terrible! I mean, you… you were great. I had no idea what I was doing. I'm not made for kissing, I’m only good at Beach.’ He shook his head, frustrated. ‘I shouldn’t have- mmh!… mmm…’

You shut him up instantly, diving back for more and inadvertently pushing him to lay back on the bed. You straddled him naturally, conscious thought still lost in the haze of excitement.

‘You- you liked it?’ he breathed huskily as you pulled up to get a look at how pretty he was, breathless with anticipation beneath you.

You nodded, humming in approval. ‘And it feels like you did too,’ you smirked, grinding down against his already aching erection.

The noise he made was unearthly, a growl and a whimper and a groan and a desperate exhale all at once. The pressure he had been feeling there released ever so slightly with a small pearl of precum, affording him a moment of bliss between the aching neediness.

You stilled, worried you’d hurt him somehow, but his eyes widened revealing pupils dilated to the size of dinner plates, and you realised it had been a sound of pleasure, not pain.

‘What… was… THAT?’ he cried out breathlessly. ‘That felt incredible! Sublime! That’s it! That’s what I’ve been craving?! Do it again? Please-’

The last word tapered into a whine as you rolled your hips to grind against him again, and he flopped down onto the pillow, eyes rolling back with overwhelming sensations he couldn’t find the words for.

‘Ken?’ you asked softly, leaning down, ‘you’ve never had an orgasm before have you?’

He shook his head.

‘Do you want to?’

He couldn’t catch his breath and his reply came out as a husky whisper. ‘Will it feel like that again?’

‘Better,’ you grinned wickedly.

‘Oh fuck, yes,’ he mumbled, not even realising he’d sworn. ‘Please.’

You leaned in to kiss him again, igniting the flames inside him that had been roaring since the first time you held his hand. Ken moaned in anticipation, closing his eyes tightly, composing and preparing himself.

You rocked your hips only once more and he exploded, fists bunching the sheets while you continued to writhe against him, his back arching off the bed and tears prickling at his eyes as his orgasm tore through every fibre of his being.

It was like nothing else. How had he never so much as wondered what this would be like until he had entered the real world and discovered human feelings and thoughts… and needs.

His chest heaved as he came down from his high, lazily lifting an arm to rest over his forehead in complete surrender while he tried to claw his way back to the present, with you.

When he opened his eyes, he was met with you smiling down at him, nothing short of smug.

‘Was that- did I-?’ he stuttered.

‘You sure did,’ you panted, heart pounding and heat rushing down to keeping your own arousal simmering. God, he was a picture, mussed hair and pink cheeks and heavy eye lids.

‘Oh… oh, that was, it was-’

You chuckled, climbing off him to settle at his side, where he turned to face you.

‘Should I have… you know? Was there something I didn’t do? You didn’t…’

The concern in his eyes was endearing, but you laughed again and he relaxed. Another tear slid down his cheek as you caressed his arm tenderly.

‘Don’t worry, Ken, we have time for that. I get the feeling you’ll be great at… doing stuff. Besides, that wasn’t quite the whole thing. I’m glad it felt good, but there’s a lot more I can show you. If you want me to…’

Ken snorted a disbelieving laugh. ‘Well, good, because these urges I’ve been getting? I think they might have actually been for-’

‘Orgasms,’ you interrupted with a smirk. ‘Yeah, humans tend to get that a lot.’

‘I’m not surprised! How do you get through the day without doing that at regular intervals?’

You laughed, gently wiping the tears from his cheeks. ‘It will calm down when you’re a little more used to it. In the meantime… let’s make the most of your libido, yes?’

‘Absolutely,’ he agreed eagerly, as though the word libido meant anything at all to him. Nevertheless, he was as eager as anything for another round.

‘I’m going to start undressing you this time… if that’s alright?’ you muttered seductively, kissing at his collar bone while your fingers toyed with the buttons of his shirt.

‘Of course. You don’t have a body like mine for nothing. Well, I suppose it’s main purpose is for Beach, but-’

‘Ken?’

‘Yeah?’

You didn’t use any more words, and he suddenly lost all concept of his own thoughts when your hand slid inside his beach shorts.

‘How does this feel?’ you whispered as your fingers wrapped loosely around his thick length and pumped slowly, lightly. You didn’t want to overwhelm him too soon.

‘R-real- f-fucking- oh!- good, hnnng…’

#not s f w 💀#ken #ken x reader #ken x you #ken smut #ken x y/n #ryan gosling x reader #ryan gosling x you #ryan gosling!ken #ryan!ken #ryan gosling #rg!ken #ryan gosling ken #ken barbie #barbie movie #barbie 2023 #ken-dom writes #ken fic #kenergy

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erimeows · 4 months ago

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Naruto: Masterlist

Hi there! I'm Eri, and I write for all sorts of stuff. While I do have everything published on here, I personally choose to have my masterlists linked to my Ao3.

Most of my stuff is written during the original Naruto-Naruto Shippuden era. I do have a couple works set during Boruto, but I don't write the new gen characters and haven't watched the show (I thought it sucked but no judgment to anyone who enjoys it). Some of these are NSFW, so be sure to check the tags!

If you'd like to learn more about me, send in a request, or look at my works for other fandoms, check out my pinned post!

Multichapter/Series:

Compromise (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)- Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Verbatim (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

I Like You (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Candy Hearts (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Lavender Clouds (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Shared Custody (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

To Be Alive At All Is To Have Scars (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Red (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

New Relationship Energy- Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Candy (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Holding Hands (Gaara x Reader)

The New Member (Various Akatsuki x Reader): Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3

Character x Character Oneshots:

Teardrops (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Antagonistic (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Like Lovers Do (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

The Moth And The Flame (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Under The Mask (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Then, There's You (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Plus One (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Monster (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Hush Hush (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Teachers (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Friday Nights (Kakashi Hatake x Iruka Umino)

Wanted (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Slow Dancing In The Dark (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Cracks (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Always (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Ruin My Life (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

First Times (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Take Care (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Lovesick (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Rainy Days (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Like This (Kakashi Hatake x Might Guy)

Stupid (Kakashi Hatake x Anko Mitarashi)

Obvious (Kakashi Hatake x Anko Mitarashi)

Control (Kakashi Hatake x Yamato)

Home (Kakashi Hatake x Yamato)

Polaroid (Kakashi Hatake x Yamato)

Us (Kakashi Hatake x Yamato)

Snowfall (Kakashi Hatake x Yamato + Sai x Ino Yamanaka)

Groomsmen (Iruka Umino x Yamato)

Casual (Kakashi Hatake x Mei Terumi)

Break-Ups (Kakashi Hatake x Minato Namikaze)

Twilight (Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha)

Against His Better Judgment (Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha)

Not Anymore (Kakashi Hatake x Obito Uchiha)

Still Missing (Sasuke Uchiha x Sakura Haruno)

The Game That We Play (Sasuke Uchiha x Naruto Uzumaki)

Rising Action (Shikamaru Nara x Naruto Uzumaki)

Love Strategist (Shikamaru Nara x Ino Yamanaka)

Perfume (Shikamaru Nara x Temari)

Memento Mori (Shikamaru Nara x Temari)

When The Smoke Clears (Deidara x Sasori)

Complications (Deidara x Itachi Uchiha)

Sapphire & Gold (Kisame Hoshigaki x Itachi Uchiha)

Ten Years (Gaara x Rock Lee)

Single (Kankuro x Kiba Inuzuka)

Character x Reader Oneshots:

Hair (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

When I Wake (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Pink Bubblegum (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Exes (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Jealous (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Too Good To Be True (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Cat & Mouse (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

To Be Selfish (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Self Conscious (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Not Anymore (Kakashi Hatake x Reader)

Moonlight (Gaara x Reader)

My Queen (Yamato x Reader)

Who? (Might Guy x Reader)

Waiting Game (Neji Hyuga x Reader)

The Diary (Rock Lee x Reader)

Scary (Temari x Reader)

Truth Or Dare (Shikamaru x Reader)

Bloody Valentine (Obito Uchiha x Reader)

Rain (Iruka Umino x Reader)

Headcanons:

Kankuro NSFW Alphabet

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kiwriteswords · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!! Can I request “Discussions of kinks that they're embarrassed/self-conscious of” for the drabble prompts with shy reader? 🩷

Hi!! Thank you!!! Hope you enjoy this short drabble!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Word Count: 600

Rating: Mature

TW: Sexual themes, NSFW, 18+

In the Quiet

The low hum of the apartment settled into a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the soft rustling of sheets and your own shallow breathing. You were nestled against Hotch, his steady presence always grounding, but tonight, there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air.

Your fingers toyed nervously with the edge of the blanket, heart racing in your chest. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you’d ever trusted anyone—but this? This was different. It was intimate in a way that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Hotch noticed, of course. He always did. His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer against him as he murmured softly, “You’ve been quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

You bit your lip, uncertainty swirling in your mind. It wasn’t something you had ever really talked about before—not with anyone—and the thought of voicing it out loud felt impossibly daunting.

“I just… I’ve been thinking about something,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hotch’s hand gently traced circles on your back, his calm presence urging you to continue without pressuring you. “What is it, sweetheart? You know you can tell me anything.”

His words, laced with warmth and understanding, gave you the courage to take a shaky breath. You turned in his arms slightly, not quite meeting his eyes as you spoke. “There’s something I’ve been too embarrassed to talk about... something I like but I—I'm kind of self-conscious about it.”

You felt Hotch shift, his attention fully on you now, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said gently. “I promise, whatever it is, we’ll talk through it together.”

You hesitated for a moment longer before finally blurting out, “It’s just—there are things I like, things I… fantasize about, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m weird.”

Hotch’s thumb grazed over your hand, silently urging you to continue, but he didn’t push. His patience was something you’d always admired.

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed, “I like it when things are… a little rougher. But I don’t know how to say that without feeling… ashamed, I guess?”

There was a pause, but instead of the awkward silence you feared, Hotch’s hand stilled against your back, grounding you. When he spoke, his voice was soft, full of understanding. “You don’t need to feel ashamed, not with me. Everyone has different desires. If that’s something you want, we can talk about it.”

Your cheeks burned, but you felt a flicker of relief that he wasn’t judging you. “I just didn’t want you to think differently of me,” you admitted, the words sounding so small compared to the weight they carried.

Hotch gently tilted your chin up so that your eyes met his. His gaze was soft but serious, full of reassurance. “I’ll never think differently of you. What you like, what you want—that’s important to me too.”

The weight on your chest eased slightly, the vulnerability you felt starting to melt away under his steady gaze. “I just didn’t want to disappoint you,” you murmured.

Hotch’s lips quirked up in a small, reassuring smile. “You could never disappoint me. We’ll go at your pace, and we’ll figure it out together. You’re safe with me.”

You felt your heart swell, the anxiety ebbing away as his arms tightened around you. You had been so afraid of being misunderstood, but Hotch—ever patient, ever understanding—had made it feel okay. More than okay.

“Thank you,” you whispered, snuggling back into his chest, feeling the warmth of his acceptance wash over you.

His lips brushed your temple gently as he whispered, “Always.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fanfiction #kiwriteswords #aaron hothcner drabbles #aaron hotchner drabble

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ro-is-struggling · 2 years ago

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In Sickness And In Health || Clark Kent x Reader

Summary: You're terrified that your boyfriend Clark —the local superhero and most perfect man on the planet— will see you sick, so you forbid him to visit you while you have a cold. However, when he shows up at your door saying he misses you, he proves that your insecurities were unwarranted.

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, reader being a little insecure, hurt/comfort kinda, my shitty titles (I tried my best :c )

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: I wrote this for me while I was recovering from a cold that had me in bed feeling miserable for days. I was a mess and I felt ugly so I wrote this silly little thing to cheer me up as I continued to descend into the Henry Cavill filmography rabbit hole lol I decided to share it bc why not? Hope you guys like it c:

Do you want to get notified when I post? JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE!

You hated being sick. You hated feeling weak and tired all day, spending hours in bed surrounded by used tissues. You hated that your throat felt scratchy and that your stuffy nose made you have to choose between eating and breathing. You hated having your daily routine interrupted by a stupid cold, but most of all you hated not feeling like yourself.

You were a mess when you got sick, tangled hair tied up in a messy bun and wearing pajamas all day. You usually didn't move from your bed, which resulted in mountains of used tissues piling up on every surface near you. Multiple cups with leftover tea and a packet of crackers decorated the bedside table, being your main source of food for the day. It was an unpleasant sight so you preferred to spend your sick days alone in the quiet of your home where no one could see your red, irritated nose or the filth you were living in.

You had specifically asked Clark not to come by your house for that very reason. You loved him to death, but you weren't prepared to let him see you in that state. You felt ugly when you were sick, almost unworthy to be in the presence of someone as perfect and magnificent as him. Clark was literally the perfect man, he never got sick or had to deal with colds in the winter or allergies in the spring. It was almost impossible to see him disheveled since he was able to stop a building from collapsing with his bare hands without a single hair on his head moving out of place. You knew he loved you and didn't care what you looked like, but you couldn't help but feel self-conscious about it since he was literally perfect. So, to save yourself trouble and to concentrate your energy on recovering, you asked him not to come see you for a few days.

Clark respected your wishes at first, but after two days without seeing you he couldn't wait. He missed you and didn't understand your insistence on being alone, it wasn't as if he could catch a cold from you. So when he finished his shift at the Daily Planet he headed to your apartment —stopping on the way just to buy some groceries and a bouquet of flowers for you. He didn't text you that he was going to see you, knowing that if he did you would find some excuse or some way to convince him to go home instead. That's why you were surprised to see him there when you peeked through the peephole in the door before opening it.

"Clark, what are you doing here?" You exclaimed with a mixture of surprise and annoyance. He wasn't supposed to be there. "I thought I told you not to come here!"

"I know, but I missed you." He pouted and you had to look away from the peep hole before he managed to convince you to let him in with those hurt puppy dog eyes of his. You missed him too, but you were in no condition to be around anyone, let alone him.

"I brought food, I thought maybe I could cook for you while you rest." Clark insisted when you didn't respond. You couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, he sounded so genuinely interested in helping you and taking care of you that it almost broke your heart to have to say no to him.

"I'm not hungry," you lied. "You should go home, Clark."

"Why won't you let me take care of you?" he sighed in frustration. You leaned your forehead against the wood door, debating whether you should tell him the truth. You suddenly felt stupid for having such a specific and probably irrelevant insecurity, but it wasn't like you could control it.

Despite the fact that you and Clark had been dating for quite a while, you still had a fair amount of 'first times'. You hadn't yet gone on vacation together for example, and he still hadn't met your family —though not by his own choice, he really wanted to. And, among other things, he had never seen you being sick. It was such a silly thing, but you felt ugly and disgusting and all you wanted to do was disappear under the covers and not come out until the cold was cured so no human being would ever have to see you in that state.

"It's not that I don't want to," you muttered more to yourself than for him to hear, though you knew he could do it because of his powers. You fiddled nervously with the seam of your t-shirt, feeling a little silly for having to talk about this out loud. "It's just that I'm not in the mood to have guests."

"I'm not a guest, I'm your boyfriend."

“Claaark!” You pouted, begging the universe not to make you say out loud what your real problem was. You heard him let out a chuckle from the other side of the door and rolled your eyes, frustrated that he found the situation funny.

"What?" His voice was a perfect mix of confusion and amusement.

"It's just that... I'm not presentable, the house is a mess and I feel ugly. I'd rather you didn't see me like this."

There was a long silence. Your fingers began to tug at the threads of the seam of the hem of your t-shirt while your teeth nervously nibbled at the skin of your lips, waiting for a response from your boyfriend. The tension grew with every second, time seemed to drag on as the uncertainty of silence ate you up inside. And then you heard a laugh.

Clark was laughing.

It wasn't a mocking or evil laugh, more an expression of his own surprise at your revelation. But it still bothered you. "I'm sorry, is this funny to you?"

"Yeah, a little." He replied with a chuckle and you let out a sigh of genuine disbelief. "I mean, you know I can see you through the door, right?" your eyes grew wide at the realization that due to his powers he had been watching you all this time. You turned quickly, facing away from the door as you hid your face in your hands.

"Clark, stop it right now!" You ordered him and he let out another chuckle. "I mean it!"

"I'm sorry, it's just that I find it a little ridiculous. I mean, you have to know I couldn't care less about how you look. All I want to do is be with you and take care of you, baby." It melted your heart to hear the sincerity in her voice. It wasn't like you didn't know that, but it was nice to hear him say it, to reassure you that his love for you was genuine and pure.

A part of you was dying to be pampered by him, to lose yourself in the warmth of Clark's strong arms as he held you against his chest, soothing all your aches and pains with his presence alone. It was tempting to think of him pacing around the apartment, making tea and cooking dinner while you rested between the sheets. But the other part of you —-the part that was usually in control of your decisions— hesitated, afraid of shattering some sort of illusion or image Clark had of you. It was silly and it only got sillier every time you thought about it, but you still couldn't bring yourself to open the door for him.

"I know, but still... I'm not ready for you to see me like this. I look hideous."

"You could never look hideous, baby." Clark sighed. His voice sounded closer and clearer, an indicator that he had moved closer to the door.

"You're just saying that because you love me and love has made you stupid and blind."

"Well, yeah, of course I love you. But also, you truly are the most beautiful woman in the world." You smiled to yourself, feeling your insides filling with that comforting warm feeling that you could only describe as the flame of love. Clark always knew just what to say to make all your problems go away. It was one of his best abilities, even if it was under-appreciated when compared to the rest of his powers.

"Flattery will get you nowhere." You lied, knowing full well that his sweet words were slowly softening the hard protective shield you had raised around your heart.

"C'mon, sweetheart! I'm gonna have to see you while you're sick eventually. Or what, once we live together you plan to lock yourself in the bedroom for a week and make me sleep on the couch so I don't see you with a cold? Or maybe I'll have to rent a room in a hotel until you get better? Is that what you want?"

You were silent for a moment as your brain tried to process what he had said, not his ridiculous options for staying apart when you were sick, but the part where he mentioned a future together. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't already imagined what your life together would be like for the next forty years. You wanted to wake up next to Clark every morning, share your free time with him and grow old by his side. He was the love of your life, you were sure of that. But what you didn't know was that he was also thinking about your future together.

"Once we live together?" you repeated in an excited whisper, the smile on your face widening. "You think about that stuff?"

"Of course I do!" he assured you, sounding slightly offended that you thought otherwise. It hadn't been his intention to make it obvious that every night before bed he imagined his life with you, but he wasn't hiding it either. He was shamelessly in love with you so why bother disguising it. "I want everything with you, sweetheart. I love you."

All worries faded from your mind, banished by the echo of Clark's sweet words. Your hands worked quickly over the locks on the door, removing the latch before turning the key to unlock it. He had won, there was no way you could tell him to leave after such a confession of love. All you wanted to do was hug him and lose yourself in the warmth of his body until you melted into one, show him how much you loved him and how important his words were to you. It was more than the expression of a wish or a projection of the future. It was a promise. The promise of love and commitment. He wanted to be with you in sickness and in health, in good times and in hard times. Clark loved you as much as you loved him and that was all you needed to know to feel better.

"You cheated." You joked as you opened the door, stepping aside to let your boyfriend in. He smiled in amusement at your childish pout, letting out a slight chuckle as he set the shopping bag aside to close the door behind him

"I was just being honest." Clark looked at you with such adoration in his eyes —his blue orbs glowing with the spark of love— that you couldn't help but feel self-conscious. Blood rushed to your cheeks, making you feel warm for the first time since you'd caught a cold.

"Stop it!" you whined, hiding your face in his chest as a defense mechanism to cope with how vulnerable you felt.

You'd never been good at receiving compliments and always felt awkward when someone said something nice about you, unsure how to respond other than with a shy smile. And even though Clark seemed to make it his favorite pastime to give you compliments, it hadn't gotten any better. You still felt silly every time he complimented your outfit before going out to dinner or when he told you how beautiful you looked the next morning when you woke up in his arms. But just because you didn't know how to respond to his beautiful words other than with smiles and incoherent sounds of happiness didn't mean you didn't appreciate them. On the contrary, you loved the comforting warmth that flooded your insides every time he smiled at you, looking at you with pure love in his eyes. It made you feel special in a way that no one ever had before. It reassured you that you were on the correct path to happiness.

"I love you." You mumbled against Clark's chest and felt him tighten his grip on you, trapping you in his strong arms. You let the warmth of his body envelop you, slowly dissipating all your troubles. His simple presence was more powerful than any drug or medicine you could take, effectively making you forget all your problems in a matter of seconds. His hug alone was able to lift your spirits, restoring color and joy to your tired expression. That was the effect he had on you.

"I love you too, sweetheart." Clark whispered against your hair, placing a delicate kiss on the top of your head. "Now, will you let me take care of you?"

#clark kent x reader #clark kent x female reader #clark kent fluff #clark kent x reader fluff #clark kent imagine #superman x reader #superman x female reader #superman imagine #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader

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riderofthemist · 5 months ago

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How to deal with mockery when you are a lone Covid conscious person?

When we are someone who wants to take precautions against respiratory virus, we can face quite a lot of violence. From disdain to physical assault. And that can make people don't wear their mask.

However, Covid doesn't care about the reason why you don't wear your mask. So... How to deal with the mockery ?

Make a list of the reasons why you wear your mask.

Repeat self-affirming stuff '' I follow science'', "I'm doing nothing wrong by wearing a mask", "I'm legit"...

If you can afford it, wear colourful masks, or masks with patterns. It helps build your self-confidence because you wear something pretty and sometimes people are less aggressive if they see you with that kind of respirator.

You can try arguing against the person you face but if you see they don't want to hear what you have to say, don't start a fight. What I do is that while they speak to me, I repeat my motivations in my head so I don't hear them.

Try to find some Covid conscious people either physically or online so you can talk about those things but also get strength from them.

Remember, you are not alone. You might not see anyone wearing a mask but people are doing it.

Have some self-care activities (even without the pandemic, you should have some). That includes browsing through the #Yallmasking and #Saltingthevibes tags to see beautiful people wearing respirators but also taking a break from Covid. Draw, colour, watch a movie, read a book, listen to music while watching the birds through your window... I'm not a big fan of psychiatry but don't hesitate to seek professional help if it gets too much. However, be careful with who you see. Some therapists think that wearing a mask is a mental illness in itself. Here is a list of Covid conscious therapists. Though, I don't know it's value : https://www.covidconscioustherapists.com/

And keep in mind that it will eventually end. Either because you will stop caring about it, because people around you will grow up, they will get tired of mocking you, maybe you'll move out at a certain point of your life and meet understanding people.

#mask up #mask on #wear a respirator #covid isn't over #covid #covid 19 #covid conscious #respirators #wear a mask #mask #z

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notyourhetloki · 6 months ago

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freak (Logan x Wade)

/NSFW Logan x Wade/

A/N: Hey theree! This one's a personal project of mine, I'm actually really proud of it and I hope you guys enjoy! It isn't a x reader like I usually write, but I wanted to try something new ;) I love these guys so much ughhh

Tags: nasty porn tbh, rough sex, anal, unprotected sex, bottom!Wade, top!Logan, Wolvie is feral and Wade is really into it, blood, pain play, a bit of feelings (especially in the end :3).

Word Count: 2.7k

—

It is a well-known fact that Wade Wilson doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up. His non-stop banter would take him places he wouldn't go with a gun (but he always brought one just in case), and many times would make him end up in a fight. His Wolverine, on the other hand, appreciated silence.

Logan Howlett was mostly a quiet man, pondering to himself most of the time. He could make a sassy commentary here and there, but in the end, he thrived in introspection.

He knew moving in with Wade would be a challenge, but deep down he liked having his company. He would never admit it, but Wade made the effort to understand him that many people didn't care to make, and Logan valued that... that and the always-present sexual tension between them.

But that doesn't mean Wade wouldn't get on his nerves. The younger man was a shit-talker and a joker, never missing a reference and definitely never missing a chance to comment on what Logan was doing... especially if that meant teasing him.

You see, Logan had a 'bad' habit of scratching himself when he had an itch. Sounds normal, right? It would be... if he didn't do it with his claws.

The first time Wade saw Logan using his claws to scratch his arm, he didn't miss a beat and immediately mocked him about it.

"Got an itch, kitty cat? Be careful ther-"

"I know what the fuck I'm doing." Retorted Logan, already irritated at his roommate.

The second time it happened, Wade witnessed Logan scratching his chin. It was too funny to not point it out, so of course he had to say something. "Trying to shave yourself this time? May I present you to a little gadget called Gillette?"

Logan didn't respond, only glared at him in annoyance.

But the third time... that was when things escalated. Logan was sitting on the couch, manspreading while using his claws to scratch his crotch. It was quick, but of course Wade noticed it. Wade's mouth was left agape at the sight, shocked and amused at the same time.

"Ok... you definitely outdid yourself this time, friend. Thank God for your adamantium balls." He teased while laughing, standing right in front of his target.

"Shut up." Said Logan in a huff, averting his eyes.

"No, really! Like, that was badass! Scratching your ballsack with three super-sharp blades? You're a freak."

Logan momentarily froze at that word, slowly getting up from the sofa and getting close to Wade so he could intimidate him. "Come again?"

"You're a... freak? Just like me, mutton chops. We're both freaks." Wade tried justifying, but to no avail.

"I'm no freak, pal. Call yourself what you want, but don't drag me into it." Logan pointed a finger to the other man's chest, poking him to make his point.

Wade suddenly felt self-conscious for once and realized... Logan probably had a history with that word, and it was definitely not a good one. He quickly recovered and tried explaining himself to him. "Noo, you don't get it... freak is a good thing! The youths say it all the time, it's a slang!"

"I don't care what the youths say, I'm not buying it." Logan protested.

"I say this with love, Wolvie... I get it. But after all, there's nothing wrong with being a freak. Isn't that the whole X-Men premise?"

Logan thought for a moment and realized Wade was right. The X-men taught him to not be ashamed of himself, to not let anyone dictate who he was. But words still had meaning and maybe he could resignify them, empower himself and recognize... maybe he was a bit freakish.

He looked Wade up and down before distancing himself slightly. The realization only made Logan even more aware of the fact Wade wanted to connect with him... and he found that extremely endearing.

That attraction grew with every passing day, like an unwanted visitor, a tumor... gnawing at his chest and consuming every thought he had. He wanted Wade with an intensity he could only describe as needy, feelings getting too loud to ignore.

"Maybe you're right..." Logan admitted, finally making eye contact. Wade smiled sweetly as he crossed his arms, giving his roommate a look that made his breath falter.

Logan hadn't noticed Wade's appearance up to that point, he was wearing shorts and a plain white T-shirt. Wade was showing a lot of his scarred skin in that outfit, and Logan couldn't help but stare... a known heat growing in his belly from the tension rising in the room.

Tension that grew bigger when Wade slightly turned his head sideways, observing Logan's eyes roaming through his body. Logan knew Wade knew, and that only made things worse.

“You know what? I think we match each other’s freak, munchkin.” Breaking the silence, Wade made an effort to maintain eye contact, arms still crossed in a bratty way.

“You sure about that?" Logan licked his lips and also turned his head like a puppy, keeping Wade in his place with his stare.

“Yep! But in reality, I don’t think you could handle my freak, peanut.” Wade tried teasing, feeling his body warm up with anticipation.

Logan scoffed with a laugh, turning to walk away. "Yeah, right."

“But I’m sure you could try!” Desperately said Wade in an effort to keep Logan close... and it worked.

Logan turned towards him and slowly walked in Wade's direction, who had to walk backwards so they wouldn't collide. When Wade's back hit a wall, Logan finally spoke as he got inches close to his face. "And why would I do that?”

They were close enough to breathe each other's air, smell each other's scent and look at their own reflection in each other's eyes. Their hearts were beating fast, and no rational thought could deny what they felt at that moment. It was pure raw tension, a build-up that took ages to finally reach its peak.

“Because it would be fun! And because… I really really want you to.” Wade's voice got serious at that last part and made shivers run down Logan's spine. Was he being honest? Did Wade want Logan as much as Logan wanted him?

He didn't have time to think before acting on impulse, staring at Wade's lips for only a moment before grabbing him by the T-shirt and kissing him hard. Wade immediately reciprocated, tongues meeting halfway while his hands moved to Logan's face.

One of Logan's hands still grabbed Wade's shirt while the other traveled to his waist, pulling him even closer. They kissed roughly and quickly, as if they had wasted so much time. Logan bit on Wade's lip and grunted as the other man moaned in response to the pain, ecstatic with the waves of pleasure that the bite provided.

Logan could taste Wade's blood in his mouth and that only made him hornier, a sudden need for violence and sex that he knew only Wade could handle.

"I wanna hurt you... real bad." Logan groaned at Wade's bruised lips, looking into his eyes while strongly holding him by the waist.

"Show me what you got, babe." Wade was enthusiastic, ready and really horny. Nothing could take that away from him at that moment, and a little bit (or a lot) of pain was definitely a plus in his mind.

Logan's eyes grew darker as he helped Wade take his shirt off before taking his own as well. They both stared at each other's chests before roaming their hands, exploring... it felt electric and so so good.

When he couldn't hold back anymore, he lowered his head to bite on Wade's shoulder, teeth tearing flesh and drawing blood while Wade hissed in pain with his eyes tightly closed. Logan realized he couldn't stop, biting and marking Wade's already scarred skin like he was a hungry dog while the other man clung to him to anchor himself.

Logan’s heightened sense of smell could usually capture people’s fear and anxiety, but Wade didn’t exude that particular scent, no… he was aroused. Logan could smell it coming out of his pores like his very own perfume, it was intoxicating and didn’t fail to drive him even further into his frenzy.

"You like that, huh?" He said between bites, sharp canines piercing rough skin and causing Wade to moan beautifully. "Fucking depraved."

They could feel their boners rubbing on each other as they moved and connected their groins together, their sensitive members absolutely desperate for more direct contact.

"Ha, if I'm depraved then what are you, Mr. Sadomasochist?" Wade's breathing was erratic as Logan abruptly turned him around and pinned him facing the wall, tearing his shorts and underwear with his half-exposed claws as he tried to remove them.

The claws lightly scratched his exposed ass, healing almost immediately as Logan squeezed the tender flesh. He spat on his fingers and promptly started massaging Wade's hole, easing in not-so-gently and fingering the younger man.

"Holy shit, Logan..." Wade's voice trembled as he felt his roommate's fingers in and out of him harshly, the burning sensation felt so good it made his dick throb in anticipation.

The sound of his name coming out of Wade's mouth was enough to wake something dark in him. Logan rarely heard the other man calling out his actual name, but when he did... it always managed to fuck him up.

"You're ready for me, bub?" Logan's deep hoarse voice vibrated into Wade's ear, a last act of gentleness before he knew things would get nasty.

"I was born ready." Wade softly affirmed, his cheek and hands pressed into the wall, bracing himself.

Logan lowered his sweatpants and his cock immediately sprung out as he removed his fingers from the other man. He spat on his hand again and stroked himself a few times before slowly entering Wade's ass until he was balls deep into him.

Wade couldn't see it, but he felt that Logan's cock was huge (just like he had imagined)... filling him up completely and hurting him in the best possible way. "Ah... fuck..." He couldn't stop cursing and moaning, his own dick already dripping with a bit of precum.

"Yeah... so fucking tight..." After Logan buried himself inside Wade for a bit, he finally started moving. It was inconsistent at first, out of rhythm, but soon he found a good hard pace that only got more urgent with every thrust. "I'm gonna fuck you so good you're gonna start seeing stars."

"Oh, God..." Was all Wade managed to say before one of Logan's hands traveled to his neck, squeezing his throat and choking him dizzy.

Logan's other hand grabbed so hard on Wade's waist that his fingertips dug into his skin, leaving bruises that he would definitely remember if it wasn't for his regeneration factor.

Wade arched his back even further at the feeling, matching and meeting Logan's movements causing the man to almost cry out at the sight.

He pulled Wade's hips towards him to meet his every thrust, fucking him like an animal while biting on the other man's ear. Logan grunted from pleasure, taking out all of his frustrations without having to feel guilty about it.

Wade was in pure bliss, getting railed by his super-hot roommate while being choked silly. He couldn't talk, but he could definitely still moan and make obscene noises while his neglected dick achingly throbbed. Logan was right, he was definitely seeing stars at that point.

The bites Wade received were constantly healing, but Logan opened the wounds repeatedly with his teeth while never stopping pounding into his ass. He let out animalistic sounds, feeling out of his mind as Wade squeezed around him and moaned loudly. Everything was so overwhelming but so damn good, he couldn't get enough.

Wade's sweet spot was being abused again and again with every thrust of Logan's cock, achingly getting hit by the member and causing electric pleasure to run through his body. Wade could feel his orgasm growing inside rapidly as Logan squeezed his neck tighter, biting his shoulders while snarling and cussing.

If he could talk at that moment, Wade would be saying "Fucking hell, please don't stop.", but all he could do was shake through his climax. He came untouched, strings of his cum shooting between the wall and his stomach while he closed his eyes in ecstasy.

Logan noticed the whole thing, not letting go of the other man as Wade's legs slightly turned to jelly. "Fuck, Wade..." was all he managed to speak through his ragged breath, still not stopping his hips from moving.

He stopped choking Wade and concentrated on holding the younger man's waist as he furiously rammed his hips forward, barely taking his member out before thrusting again... it was quick, dirty and messy. The slapping sounds their bodies made together only fed into his uncontrollable state, and of course, Wade's moans made him absolutely feral.

Logan was close, quickening up his already wild pace for one last moment before biting on Wade's shoulder again and coming inside him. He growled against Wade's skin as he closed his eyes shut, pleasure waves hitting him in a way he had never felt before.

They stayed in that position for a while, Wade's body flush against the wall as Logan leaned forward, now resting his mouth on the other man's shoulder. They breathed in and out deeply, exhausted and dumb from their respective highs as their bodies tingled with energy.

"Oh, wow... holy shit." Wade started giggling to himself, not believing what just had happened. "Are you alright, peanut?"

Logan inhaled and exhaled through his mouth, eyes still closed in an attempt to ground himself. "Yeah... I'm fine." He was more than fine, in fact, he couldn't remember a time when he felt so fucking satisfied... but of course, he would never admit it.

Logan opened his eyes slowly to see he was still inside Wade, so he slowly retracted himself and watched as cum dripped from his roommate's hole. It was then that he realized what had happened, and a wave of worry hit him like a brick. "Are... are you good, bub?" Logan's voice was serious, a hint of concern that Wade immediately picked up.

"Better than ever! But I appreciate the worry, sweetheart." Wade said, turning around to face the other man and raising his arms to rest on Logan's shoulders.

"I wasn't worried." Logan lied, not willing to give in so easily. He looked at Wade's shining hazel eyes and felt tightness in his chest, and in that moment he knew he had fucked up... he was down bad.

"Sure..." Wade's eyes were fixated on Logan's mouth, not being able to resist as he quickly made his way to kiss the man. That kiss was more tender, slow and sensual and full of feeling. Whatever Logan was repressing at that time came to the surface with such intensity it made him feel dizzy, holding tightly to Wade's waist and drawing him closer.

They kissed for a few good minutes before separating, still panting as they looked into each other's eyes. In a brief moment, Logan closed his eyes and decided to touch foreheads with Wade, who reciprocated the gesture gently.

"You're gonna make me fall for you, Wolvie." Wade whispered earnestly, petting the back of the man's hair. Logan purred at the sensation and felt his chest swell again with feelings he couldn't quite keep secret anymore.

He didn't want to be vulnerable, but honestly... he had tasted Wade's blood, fucked him silly and cummed inside him, maybe being a little vulnerable was only fair at that point.

"Good." Logan responded, opening his eyes at the same time Wade opened his. They looked at each other again, foreheads still touching while Logan drew circles on Wade's skin.

Wade smiled sweetly and Logan smiled back shyly before closing the gap again and kissing him gently.

Logan was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but if there's one conclusion he could take from that experience... it's that he and Wade were freaks, and freaks were meant to stick together.

—

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool x wolverine #logan x wade #logan howlett #wade wilson #wolverine #deadpool #deadclaws #poolverine #marvel #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #headcanon #notyourhetloki

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