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storiesfromasmalltown · 3 months ago

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Jack Abbot x resident!reader

Warnings: Cursing, drinking, medical inaccuracies, not beta read, me coming back from the dead, attempts at humor, age gap (reader is in late 20s/ early 30s)

Word count: 2500+ (oh well)

COWBOY TAKE ME AWAY OR when your best friend ends up in the ER after her Cowboy themed bachelorette party with a broken leg and a mouth that just keeps talking you might be in over your head.

You were going to kill her, after they stick her leg in a cast and once she sobered up you were going to kill her. Taking the weekend off in order to go to your best friends bachelorette was planned weeks in advance, the cowgirl theme was coordinated from outfits to drinks, you spent months on the whole thing, being the maid of honour and all- you hand glued BRIDE in gemstones to her white cowboy hat, hell you had hand-sewn the veil to the hat. You planned the whole fucking thing while being a year 3 resident (you survived a few months on good will and fumes for it) and frankly you were looking forward to a night away from your work and the giant obvious crush you had on one of the attendings you were planning on getting over by finding a bison for the night.

And yet there you were getting Becca and her fucked leg into the PTMC, two purses on your scantly clad shoulder and one of her white boots under your armpit- you had remembered to text Ellis on the way to let her know you were coming, no sense in letting the drunk babbling bride wait- you just wished she’d stop asking if she was finally going to see your sexy doctor.

You also regretted ever having spilled about Abbot. The night was perfect for stories of old flames, sex lives and your miserable thing for the hot night shift attending and now you might have to plan a move to Mexico the way she was going. You stopped after two cocktails, knowing the bride was injury prone, Becca told you she planned on getting smashed for her bachelorette the moment Jules proposed and who were you to stop her. You were regretting it now as you took her into the ER waiting room.

“Bet you he’ll love the outfit.”

“Beck, please shut up about that, please? I need to be able to show my face at work again.”

“Oh you’re showing a lot more than your face today babe.”

“Yes I know my tits are out I didn’t exactly plan on showing up at my place of work tonight.”

She just giggled and tapped the pink hat on your head. Great.

She had jokes for someone in her place, you were happy to know that alcohol and adrenaline still had a grip on her. You got her seated in the waiting room and went up to fill out her paperwork when a whistle cut you off- Shen, of course he’d be the first person to find you. He gave you an amused once over, leaning his weight on a wheelchair he had with him.

“Well, well good evening or do you prefer ye-haw?”

“Howdy actually.”

You tipped your hat for added effect, might as well commit to the bit.

“-and since you’ve got jokes you might want to keep them for the cowboy in chief herself.”

He followed your line of sight where Becca was holding her immobilised leg.

“I’m assuming that’s my fracture? Was the rodeo that rowdy?”

“Still is.”

“You coming with?”

“I’ll come after you after I write her insurance info- don’t listen to a word she says and don’t light any matches near her.”

“How come you’re still standing?”

“I’ve known her since college and if there’s someone you keep an eye on it’s Beck.”

He gave a smile before pushing on with the wheelchair in his arms to Becca, who opened with the brilliant opening that may as well have been your gravestone-

“You’re not the hot doctor.”

The laughter he let out startled an older woman who looked like she was about to fall asleep on the plastic chair.

“I’m Doctor Shen, I’m also slightly offended but you can tell me more about this hot doctor of yours while I have a look at that leg.”

For fucks sake.

“It’s not my hot doctor, it’s hers, but it’s a secret!”

A big secret given her pointing towards you.

“Oh is it?”

If Shen knew the whole hospital would know by tomorrow. Maybe you can practice medicine somewhere nice and far-like North Korea.

“Good job on keeping it Beck, the yelling helps.”

“Don’t hold back on the details Cowboy Bride, please keep talking for as long as you’d like- it helps with the pain.”

The maniacal laugh she let out told you you were as fucked as you thought you might be. You thanked the nurse at the check in desk and went back to grab the purses and hopefully pass unseen to your locker to leave Becca's boots and salvage a bit of dignity before your peers and their insufferably handsome attending.

You were perfectly normal about him the first time you met, you would swear on it and even if you weren't you didn’t know a single person who didn’t stare at his arms the first time they saw him.

It was all fine and almost fun and then one hand held scalpel assistance with whispered praise lead to what you hoped was flirting and then those shoulders showed up uninvited to a wet dream and you found yourself truly and deeply fucked. The worst part was it wasn’t even just a sex thing, he made you laugh, he made you feel safe. You shared whispers and quiet drinks after long shifts, you’ve been handed as many coffees before a long night as you have beers after a long day. You’ve tag teamed shit cases, you’ve joined in on bets, you had inside jokes, hell he gave you butterflies you didn’t know you could still get. It’s one sided- you remind your self, it would be inappropriate that didn’t stop Collins and Robby your brain cheats but she probably didn’t barge in with a drunk friend objectifying him in tiny shorts and a bright pink push up bra poking from underneath her white shirt.

You were so focused on immobilising her and getting her in shape to get to the hospital comfortable that you didn’t think to grab your jacket from the table to cover up a bit of your pride and you vividly remembered packing up most of the spares from your locker to give them a wash over the weekend. The familiar chill of the ER enveloped you and you were all too aware of the tiny denim cut offs and the bra baring button up tied at your waist. When you planned the outfit you were hoping for a ‘forget about him’ hookup and a night of good riding jokes and before the leg disaster it gave you a good confidence boost- you looked good, hell you looked fantastic and you felt like an idiot. Your hand shot up to take the hat off before making a run to the lockers but Ellis caught a glimpse of you as you did and her face split in a shit eating grin.

“Now, that’s a look-”

“We’ve seen less clothed people come in-”

“Not doctors.”

“I’m off the clock”

“Or off the cock?”

“This Cowgirl didn’t get to do any riding seeing as the rodeo was closed due to injury.”

“How did that happen?”

“She’s really into Sabrina Carpenter and a clumsy drunk.”

The face you got out of her told you all you needed to know, while your shifts now rarely overlapped you became good friends during your residency but Ellis had the face of a shark on her as she opened her mouth to speak:

“Our good attending Doctor Abbot is actually with your Bride, they’re in Trauma 2 if you want to go hold your friends hand and help with her medical history before she goes for an x-ray. Oh she is quite the talker”

“Wasn’t Shen with her?”

“Oh he was but he called in Abbot so he could go check up on his other patients-”

There was that shark smile again.

“I’ll kill him.”

You felt a blush creeping from your chest as you turned to walk but before you knew it she was right by your side

“-let me walk you actually, wouldn’t want to miss his face-”

“I think I can find my way to it just fine, just get me a shovel to dig my grave once I’m back.”

“You’re telling me I have to miss seeing you give Rabbit a heart attack?”

“You have to miss my last moments in the pitt before one of the attendings finds out from my very drunk friend a lot of crap that no one is supposed to know about.”

She turned back to her chart, still smiling before saying one last thing

“- don’t tell that to the all the money we all have in the betting pool”

“Oh fuck me.”

“He might!”

You left with a middle finger in the air and your cowboy hat by her chart. Running a hand over the ponytails you attempted before the party you made your way to the room Becca was in- the motion gave you a sense of comfort. You had never felt more awkward in the ER in your life, you had gotten puked and pissed on here, you had said stupid stuff, you had blushed from head to toe the first time Abbot whispered good job to you, you had gossiped and placed bets here and you were dragging your pink boot clad feet because who the fuck knew what Becca had already told him. Sighing you pressed the button to enter the room.

“Any allergies?”

He asked, not turning around from her.

“Oh I thought you left! You didn’t tell me he was this nice!”

If you weren’t in it you’d think it was funny, your cool, calm, collected, attending turned towards you and his eyebrows met that gorgeous hairline at the same time his lips turned into a smirk.

"Well Howdy there."

"Hello Doctor Abbot."

You forced out as confidently as you could trying not to curl into yourself.

“Where’s the rest of your shirt?”

“Lost it at the rodeo?”

“Ah.”

Eloquent Doctor Abbot

“She hasn’t got any allergies, she’s full of tequila and you can’t trust a word she says- when’s she in line for an x-ray?”

“As soon as I can decipher who the hot doctor she keeps asking about is.”

Becka gave you an innocent smile and you made a list of places no one would find her body.

“You uh-do that and I’ll call Jules, her fiancée.”

“Oh I think we’re close to roping the answer Cowgirl.”

You nodded awkwardly and tried not to notice the way his eyes that usually looked straight into yours lingered on the exposed torso and the delicate skin of your collarbones.

______________________________________________________________

“Last rodeo or last ride?”

Asked one of your friends while you were at the bar waiting for more drinks.

“Last rodeo, I think, I hope she’ll still get to ride.”

You shared a laugh, leaning on the bar.

“The blond in the corner has been checking you out.”

“Not my type.”

“What is your type?”

She asked as you made your way back through the bodies surrounding you.

“You’ll judge-”

“Are you still into old guys?”

“I thought you had a good relationship with your father?”

Cut in a third friend getting Becca’s attention.

“Is this about the hot guy that works with you?”

“Are you having a sexy Grey’s style affair in the hospital?”

“No, it’s not like that-”

“But he is a father figure by what I’ve heard-”

“Gross Beck.”

“Oh do tell?”

You took a drink of your pornstar martini in an attempt to hide your blush as Becca recounted your descriptions of Jack, well Doctor Abbot, you rarely called him Jack. Only in those strange quiet moments when you felt like there might be something there, sharing a drink after a long shift, sitting leg to leg.

“Salt and pepper curls, giant bulging biceps, ex- military and ticks her competence kink- from what I’ve gathered. ”

“You having a competence kink makes so much sense babe.”

You let the martini do the talking:

“Look, I saw him donate blood and work on a patient at the same time and he has hands that look like they know what they’re doing and I am not saying that he looks like he could fuck me into a wall nor that I want it but it is hard to focus some times.”

“So how much older is he?”

“Old enough to be my young father. like 15, 20 years?”

“So how big of a hand are we talking about here?”

“Big enough that you should do something about it.”

“Like risk my job by having a relationship with my boss?”

“He’s not technically your boss! Not that I wouldn’t fuck your boss if he’s ever lonely.”

You choked on your drink as the group continued laughing.

______________________________________________________________

You made your way to the too familiar vending machines to grab a tea and a snack- a headache was building behind your eyes, a combination of the tiredness and slight hangover. You let Jules know Becca was alive and on her way to an x-ray and she let you know she’ll swing by the bar to grab your stuff before coming in to take care of Becca and relieving you of your duties. God the whole hospital will know by tomorrow, maybe Gloria would fire you and then you can jump off the roof and never think about the way his eyes darkened as you opened the door again. You were so far down that rabbit hole that you didn’t hear him come up.

“She’s up for an x-ray as we speak.”

You startled a bit but nodded your head once you registered what he said before turning to face him. He looked good, he always looked good when he had on that bemused smile and held your stare.

“I wanted to apologise for whatever she said if you’re uncomfortable-”

You started babbling, words falling from your mouth in a river of apologies and excuses as he took the jacket you didn’t even notice he had over his arm and placed it around your shoulders and you shut up at the motion, his hands still on your shoulders.

“You look like you’re cold, cowboy. It’s a good look on you, but I think you always look good. I also think you are my favourite face I have seen all day- maybe ever. Hell, I might have to send your friend a fucking great wedding present.”

“What?”

He takes half a step closer and your breath hitches in your throat.

“I’m going to kiss you because that’s what I have wanted to do from the first day I saw you, not just now, not because you walked in looking like a western fantasy, not because I’m sorry for you or whatever you might cook up in that brilliant head-”

You cut him off this time, sneaking hands around his neck, pulling him to your height and kissing him. Your lips move together and it’s soft and steady and strong and everything you imagined it would be and it feels so right.

“Was there a hat with the outfit?”

“Fuck off Jack.”

“Say it again.”

“What, fuck off?”

“No, my name.”

And you’re both smiling so hard you think your face might split.

“Yeah- it was pink.”

And he laughs before kissing your cheek and you think that’s something you could get used to.

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #the pitt imagine #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt hbo #the pitt x reader #jack abbot the pitt #jack abbot x you #jack abbot fanfiction

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chrollohearttags · 3 months ago

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my dress up darling • ony

convincing your friend to go to a convention with you turned out to be the best idea ever!…but it’s what happens before the event even arrives that makes it all the more fun..

blerd!ony, black fem!reader (plus size coded), PWP, finger sucking, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, pet names used (mama, baby, she slips up and calls him daddy), lots of praise, tit/nipple play, nasty hotel sex, tiny mentions of blood + injury, reader is a seamstress/cosplayer, missionary, squirting, friends to lovers, lots of humor and banter, creampie aftercare

word count: 6.3K

this was a lil something I’ve been wanting to write for the longest bc blerd!ony altered my brain chemistry and I miss him tremendously (if you’ve read this before, no u didn’t 🙄 and if it’s ur first time, please enjoy! )

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Ow..damn, this hurts already..”

“You good over there, mama? What’s wrong?”

the deep voice belted out in a rather low and calm tone..cool and collected, that’s how he always was. Nonchalant to a fault and that was just one of the many things you loved about him. Hence why you had invited him along to this little venture in the first place. However, at the moment…you quite frankly could not stand his ass! Through gray colored contacts, (y/n) shot the tall male next to you an icy glare..one signifying just how ‘good’ you were!

“Oh, I’m just fine, Ony. Despite the fact that my legs are still shaking and I’m sore as hell.”

a statement that should not have garnered a single chuckle out of anyone had your very handsome homeboy doubling over in laughter. He could tell by the look on your face that you were still a little peeved at him for the previous night and this morning. Honestly, you’d never want to fight a single person in your life but if you thought you could beat him, you’d ask him to spar just one time. “What the hell is so funny?” “Nothing at all, you just seem a lil’ stressed.” Feigning his humor as he pressed the key fob to lock the doors of his 2022 Camaro..a beautiful specimen, much like the man driving it. Honestly, it should’ve been illegal to be this fine but you knew exactly what you were signing up for when you decided to come to this convention with him! Three days full of dressing up, video games and all of the collectible items and rare figurines that one’s nerdy little heart could desire. It was an event that you had been looking forward to for months and it was only the icing on the cake when your favorite cashier turned cosplay buddy decided to tag along! You’d discovered Onyakopon’s, or just Ony as everyone called him; his love for nerdy things after you came into his store on a late night with a random anime shirt on and he was all hyped to see someone else that looked like him, especially a girl..that was into this same stuff. Since that day, the two of you spoke every chance you got to gush over your favorite shows and game series, all but holding up the lines to do so. Soon, that bond carried over outside of his workplace and the two of you began hanging out. Even going to a manga and anime cafe for your first outing. You were so excited to have a friend who shared your similar interests. Eventually, you divulged to Ony that you were a cosplayer and that’s when he stumbled upon your Instagram page. Which was littered with photos of you in beautiful costumes…some very detailed and intricate and others..very revealing and sexy! Make no mistake, he drew an issue with neither one but to see your duality from a girl who walked around in long graphic tees with characters on them and sweatpants to seeing you with your ass out, dressed as one of his fictional crushes, had him very conflicted! But what impressed him even more was the fact that each one of those beautiful outfits you were wearing?

You had hand sewn each one yourself! Spending weeks at a time crafting each one. Hence why your page was so much more bare than other girls he’d seen doing the same craft. It wasn’t that you loved it any less, you just didn’t have the luxury of tossing on any old, run of the mill Amazon ensemble from some third party buyer whose plus sizes looked like they’d fit a middle schooler at best. So instead of giving it up altogether, you took the liberty of learning how to stitch them together yourself to ensure the perfect fit. So naturally, it came as no surprise that when you revealed this secret to him, he wanted you to curate his very first cosplay as well! Ony had long since dreamed of dressing up as characters such as Kratos, Jin Kazuma and all the other badass video game giants he adored. Not only did go out and purchase hundreds of dollars worth of materials for you to make his dream costume come to life, but he offered to cover the costs of everything for the weekend. Just because he was so gracious to you and excited to be going. You made it your mission to ensure that he’d be left in awe when he put it on! The character in question? None other than Shao Kahn from Mortal Kombat and you decided to accompany him as the antagonist’s wife, Sindel. You both looked incredible. But leading up this moment, things had gotten a little out of control, thanks to your companion over there!..who didn’t seem to be phased at all.

“Aye listen, to be fair, you started it. I just finished it.” Prompting you to smack your lips and cut your eyes at the shirtless male. Who was glistening in the sunlight and not making matters any better. “Whatever, I think you were betting on sum’ shit like that to happen.” “Shit, I ain’t mad that it did and I know you not either.”

but just what was Ony referring to? Well…it all began last night in the hotel room…

flashback

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Ony! Can you stay still, please? I’m tryna finish this last piece.”

“C’mon, ma. Can’t you do it later on?”

“If it gets any later, imma be sleep so no. You can pause that damn game and wait for me to finish sewing this on.”

it was around eight thirty at night..dark had fallen cast over the skies and faint crackles of thunder resounded throughout the air. Luckily, the two of you were safe from any potential storms in the confines of your spacious hotel room. A luxury, double bed suite at the Best Western; only two blocks away from the convention venue. The last thing either of you wanted to be worried about was having to drive forever to get there and then have no parking or having to wait in a long line. It was a mistake you’d made several times when attending these events alone but Ony wanted his very first time to be absolutely perfect. Not to mention, he didn’t want you having to walk far in your heels. DragonCon was by far one of the largest conventions in the country and people of all kinds came to the illustrious event to have fun, make friends and of course, show off their cosplays. You and Ony had decided on the video game greats, Sindel and Shao Kahn from Mortal Kombat. You had loved Sindel since you first began playing the series and she became your favorite. So a year ago, you decided to craft her iconic purple suit and the staff to go along with it. So you were all set aside. But he wasn’t going to be as easy…because at the moment, while you were trying to put together the final touches on his outfit, he was clicking away at a controller, which made it difficult to get the stitching right. But you knew how it went…when you found yourself gridlocked in an important match or battle and couldn’t stop at the moment.

“Awww, c’mon! You keep blocking, bro. I hate this damn combo—“

it was at that moment when you were bringing the curved needle up through the loin cloth piece and securing the stitch, did he jump and not only cause you to lose balance, but send that needle right through your finger! Poking the index pad and breaking the skin. “OW!” On instinct, you’d jump back and immediately, Ony dropped his controller, finally breaking focus on what he was doing. You were bleeding but nothing too major. Alas though, he felt instantaneously guilty and reached for you. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Are you alright?” Making an attempt to check on you. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel bad so you’d downplay your pain and try to brush it off. But he was quick to run to the bathroom to grab some paper and bandages to help clean it up. “Here, you sit down..I got you.” You could tell he was remorseful by the way he flew into action but it was just a part of the craft. You’d lost count of how many times you’d singed yourself with a hot glue gun or poked yourself with a needle. Hell, you still had a giant scar on your arm from the time you sliced it, trying to cut material for a prop. It was certainly on the tamer side of the injuries you’d sustained. But just knowing that he was even remotely responsible for your pain, he couldn’t handle that.

“Ony, I’m fine. Really..I’ll just wrap it up later..”

“Nah, I should’ve stopped like you said. That’s my fault.” There was a sudden shift in his tone and you didn’t like it! There was no need for him to feel guilty. But here he was, sitting next to you on the bed as he gently cusped your hand and began first aid. He was a true sweetheart if you’d ever met one. He’d start by wiping it away and cleaning it thoroughly. You told him that a bandaid would only get in the way and keep snagging so you’d just leave it uncovered.

“You good? How you feel?” A question that elicited a laugh from you. You didn’t understand why he was so worked up over something so trivial. “I told you I’m okay. You ain’t got to worry, I’m a big girl. It’s gon’ take more than a lil’ ass needle to break me.” It was then that the two of you found yourselves face to face on the edge of the bed. Everything else had seemed to fall silent or as menial background noise. You noticed that he couldn’t stop staring at you and that he was still clutching your hand. Those deep set eyes of his remained focused on you as he casually slid his thumb across your own. “Yeah..I know. But I just wanna make you straight, that’s all..you know I care about you.” The sentiment sends flutters throughout your stomach. He was so sweet and attentive..it really shocked you that no woman had snatched him up already. He was incredibly handsome, respectful and always kind. You were happy to have someone like him in your life.

“I appreciate that..I’m just happy you decided to come with me. It means a lot. I usually do this by myself so I feel a lot better with you around.”

by now, the mood had shifted from slightly intense to..something far more sensual. Serene and quiet, as if the two of you were lovers confessing your feelings under moonlight. Truth be told, you’d never pictured yourselves as anything other than friends up until that moment. But you were always each other’s ‘person’. Attached and glued at the hip and loving the sense of happiness you brought one another. This peace and safety that came with knowing you could be your authentic selves. Inching closer, Ony would bridge the gap of space between your bodies and place a hand on your thigh. “Well you know I wouldn’t have missed this for anything..getting to be alone with you? It’s the highlight of my year..dressing up and getting to experience my first con with my fine ass girl? I couldn’t ask for better.” You’d feel your skin run hot and pangs shooting off in your stomach as he uttered the words in that deep drawl. You couldn’t believe he was so infatuated with you. Granted, you were beautiful and there wasn’t a time that you doubted yourself but he was unreal. Those pearly white teeth, that gorgeous dark skin, chiseled physique and that height..he nearly drove you insane when you were measuring him for all the pieces and you caught a glimpse of that v-line! Right now, your minds were on a one track path and there was no chance of it derailing.

“..Ony..”

because of this, neither of you could fight your urges a second longer and he’d pose a question you’d been dying to hear. “..Can I kiss you? Lemme thank you for helping me..” and without hesitation.. “I think you know the answer.” ..you gave him the green light. In a matter of moments, he’d curl a finger underneath your chin before pulling your face closer and pressing your mouths together. His soft lips collided with your own and eventually, you’d begin to make out. Shoving your tongues around inside of each other’s jaws. Your palm would creep up to cup his face and you’d find yourselves locked in a heated moment of passion. You found yourselves tangled up; hands colliding and caressing the opposite frame and by the time you came up for air, yours were roaming underneath his tank top and his were all up your slightly parted thighs.

“Here..sit on my lap.” Commanding with such suaveness, you couldn’t move fast enough as those perfectly manicured fingers waved you towards him. Ony would chew at his lower lip after licking; his signature mannerism when he was feeling a bit aroused by you. He’d done it so many times, that he had to quell it and be on his best behavior. But now, he couldn’t be too vexed to do so. He wanted you and you’d realize just how much before the night was over. You’d follow his command, propping yourself on his muscular thigh. It was decorated by a single tattoo of Shenron from Dragon Ball Z, surrounded by the eight balls. It was such beautiful work but if Ony could be rather frank…he wanted nothing more than to have you grinding yourself on it or watch that ass clap against it! A depraved thought but a real one nonetheless.

“I think you deserve a break, baby..been working so hard tryna’ get me right…lemme take care of you for a lil’ bit.” It was once you were stationed on his lap with those legs slightly parted, did he resume those sloppy yet gentle pecks. Intermittently shoving his tongue into your mouth. He’d slowly trail those fingertips across your covered skin; still sheathed by those tights underneath your skirt that you’d worn at dinner. Rips had plagued the inner corners as they’d always done…it was nearly impossible for you to keep those or a pair of fishnets with how thick your flesh was. That didn’t seem to bother him at all though. To Ony, it was the most attractive shit a woman could have. He loved how soft and supple your skin was..always scented with cocoa butter and that sweet perfume he loved so much. He loved how your features just made everything you wore, cosplay or otherwise..look so accentuated. He couldn’t get enough. Meanwhile, those nimble digits worked their way up your skirt and stopped just a centimeter short of your aching center. Unbeknownst to him, this was the first time you’d been so close to a man and in such an intimate setting. But make no mistake, you weren’t scared. In fact, you invited the idea of having him be the first one to ‘deflower’ you.

“You gon’ let me do that, baby?..Can I play with this pretty pussy?..”

the lewd question sending pangs throughout the pit of your belly. You didn’t even hesitate to provide him an answer and before you knew it, he was ripping out the seat of those tights and peeling your panties back. As he suspected, you were dripping. He just knew you’d be some pressure but this was his first bit of confirmation. As you sat idly on his lap, Ony began to toy around with your cunt. Brushing ever so slightly over that clit and running his finger pads along your folds and lips..it was so sticky and he was certain that it tasted even better. A theory he’d put to the test soon enough. However, at the moment, he just wanted to get you stimulated. He wanted to see those cute little reactions when he rubbed on your aching bud and teased it over your hole. Your arm clenched around the back of his neck as you held on for leverage. You’d watch his every move. Following his pace step for step and it was agonizing to see him going so slowly. You needed him to do his worst already!

“Mmm…I knew this shit was gon’ be wet but damn..look at my fingers already and I ain’t even stuck ‘em in..”

referring to the copious amounts of slick coating the tips as he swiped up and down. Over the sound of the crisp air blowing from the vents, he could hear your stirred up secretions, only growing by the minute. And of course, those cute little moans escaping your throat. “Ony…fuck.” “Oh you like that, huh? Like when I play in this pretty hole, don’t you, mama?” All but rhetorically questioning when he finally decided to plunge his middle and index inside simultaneously; nearly making you come undone right there. You couldn’t even elicit a response until he gained a rhythm and slowly worked you over. A single strand of drool seeped from your lips as he gently thrusted those digits back and forth. He could sense just how tight you were from his digits alone. The anticipation to be inside of you was growing stronger. But for now, he’d hide his time and focus solely on your pleasure. Those gentle brown eyes were fluttering and had even rolled back whilst you rolled your hips in a circular motion to meet his movements while incoherent babble left your mouth. But that wouldn’t suffice..he needed to hear you say it.

“Unt uh..use your words, baby. I need to know I’m making you feel good..” and alas, he’d get his answer when he sped up his pace and clutched a hand around your throat. Squeezing ever so slightly to garner his desired reaction. Ony wouldn’t consider himself to be super dominant by any means but he loved taking control to show his girl she had nothing to worry about.

“Y-yeah, daddy. It feels so fucking good.” The name slipping out casually as you pounced up and down on those two fingers. You’d felt a slight tinge of embarrassment but Ony on the other hand? Felt empowered. He never really cared for the term but hearing you utter it with those mellifluous moans, he was reconsidering! In fact, he needed to hear it again. “That’s my good girl…here, lemme take this off too.” Referencing your tube top that had been housing those ample breasts and concealed under your sweater at the restaurant. For now though, he wanted to see his gifts unwrapped. “Fuck..these big ass titties so pretty, baby. I love the way they sit up..”

it was then that he’d bury his face between them and alternate between each one’s nipple while his fingers remained nestled inside of that warmth. They’d slowly work around, twisting until they prodded your g-spot and his tongue swirled those brown buds, lapping and licking. A combination of the stimulating movements had caused you to make quite the mess of his leg with creamy juices spilling forth. You were squirming, becoming restless and in need of an orgasm already. But Ony was enjoying this far more than he should and couldn’t be vexed to stop right now.

“You so fucking pretty, baby. I swear I be so happy when you’re around..”

doting on you constantly whilst working over your sweet spot. He could tell just how excited you had become, just by the way you writhed and squealed as well. In truth, you’d never been in a situation quite like this one. You look so salacious yet so innocent and it wasn’t something that was lost on Ony. In fact, he wanted to further exploit it..

“Open that mouth..” the command followed by you promptly obeying and him gliding those same digits that were just inside of you onto your tongue. It was such a cute sight..watching you suckle on his fingers with those brown doe eyes fixated on him. This was something that he could never grow tired of..reducing his pretty little best friend to his adorable slut! You’d whimper heavily around those digits, moaning and still rutting yourself against his exposed upper thigh. Meanwhile, he was pushing those digits in and out, even getting you to gag and drool a bit from the movements. “Fuck…there you go. Suck them fingers, baby. Taste that pretty pussy f’r me. Yeah, you know your shit good. Fine ass..” which prompted you to giggle. It wasn’t a compliment you received often and honestly, you never doubted that you were beautiful but it was something about him affirming you that made your heart flutter. Suddenly, his low drawl ascended a half a pitch higher when you’d snake your smaller hand into his shorts. You’d continue to be pacified on his fingers whilst jerking him off. You were inconsolable and when you noticed that very visible tent in his bottoms, you had to move.

“Oh my gosh—shit…keep playing wit’ it, just like that…stroke that fucking dick..” growling as he forced his digits a little more down your throat; depressing your tongue along the way and causing you to keep emitting drool. Which served as the perfect lubricant to his already leaking cock. “Mmmm…Ony. Need you to fuck me..” “..you want this dick, baby?” Neither of you could take much more of this teasing and when he’d utter the fateful question, asking if you wanted to go further, you didn’t even hesitate. Despite never being intimate with a man prior. Your only partners were women or your lovely assortment of toys that you’d stashed away in your dresser. Honestly, with your arsenal..you saw little to no need to even entertain these dudes. Any feeling or sensation they could bring forth, your Rose Toy and Bad Dragon could replicate times ten! However, it was something about Ony and the way he made you feel. Not just in an erotic sense, but an emotional one as well. You felt so safe and comfortable in his presence, that it only felt natural to submit. He brought forth your feminine energy and allowed you to thrive in it.

“Here, lay down f’r me, mama. Just like that..and keep them legs spread.”

upon giving you instructions, he’d long since removed you from his lap and allowed you lie flat against the mattress; just awaiting his next move. Your tits were still sitting up, spilled out of the tube top, shuffled around your belly..and those sheer fishnets were as good as torn. It was such a sexy view, that Ony didn’t even want to undress you. However, he stripped all of his clothing down and immediately joined you back on the bed. He’d hover above you with his shaft in hand, stroking slowly. The expression on your face told it all…and he couldn’t help but to laugh. “What’s wrong, baby? You look nervous.” To which all you could do was swallow the lump in your throat. Granted, you didn’t know what an actual human’s length was supposed to look like but from the girth of his and how nearly reached the end of his thigh, nervous was an understatement. What if you couldn’t handle it? What if you embarrassed yourself?!..

“Well don’t be..you know imma take my time witchu’..I been waiting on this a long time.” Whispering to you as he leaned down and met your gaze with warm eyes and gentle smile. Brushing your cheek with that cock still in his opposite palm, he’d place small kisses atop your forehead and eventually your lips. “You just tell me what I need to do..this is yours now. I wanna make you feel good..” but it was a given, blatantly obvious even at this point. You needed every last part and inch of him..with your reassurance, he asked once more if it were okay to keep going and you’d grant him permission with a palm of your own to the side of his face..whispering to him to put it inside of you. Cooing with sweet nothings and whiny breaths, (y/n) begged Ony to fulfill your wish and it wasn’t long before your eyes went wide and your face went flush..

“Oh God—“ “Fuck…”

in that moment, the sounds of squelching flesh, along with breathy gasps emitted into the room. The two of you clashed and joined as one, right there on the crisp sheets of that king bed. The first few inches of his cock embedded deep between your warm, massaging walls and it was a sensation that could only be described as euphoric. Your legs instinctively coiled his waist, your hands to the sides of his head and his arms on either side of your body. Lying there, awaiting his next move. But alas, he had to regain his composure. Out of fear of sounding a bit too egregious, he’d keep his thoughts to himself but you were most certainly the best pussy he’d ever felt and he hadn’t even made his first thrust! Even so, Ony released a deep grunt and focused his attention back to your pretty face. “You good, baby?..Can I start moving?” This question required a bit more consideration, as you need time to adjust. That initial feeling brought forth a pleasurable yet slightly painful feeling..you didn’t make it a point to disclose to him that you were technically a ‘virgin’..but seeing as how it wasn’t the very first time you’d felt penetration, you didn’t feel it important. Besides, at that very moment. None of the proverbial details really made a difference. All that mattered was that the two of you were comfortably, willing and all ready to take this next step. And after a moment of quick breaths and whimpers, you’d instruct him to keep moving. In which he’d make one full thrust in and out..

“Agghhh…fuck..there we go, baby. In and out..” eventually, you’d fall into a rhythm of kisses that mimicked his thrusts..each one slower than the last but full nonetheless. This was so you could get acclimated with the shape and size of his member. It was a bit much and by the expression on your face, Ony knew he couldn’t start out drilling your shit!..as badly as he wanted to..

“Yeah..you takin’ my dick so good, baby..you feel so warm..” doting on you whilst your tongues swished around one another’s mouths. Sloppy, wet and steamy; an ideal combination. Coupled with that of the slow, deep thrusts in and out of your tight cunt. One thing that you loved about him was that he wasn’t afraid to be vocal. He didn’t shy from the fact that he was feeling good and wanted everyone to know. “Mmmm…Onyyyy…” “I know, mama. I know..” it went without saying, you were certainly enjoying this and he’d do everything he could to make the situation the best he could. Keeping you reigned in close to his chest, Ony persisted with his thrusts, trying to slowly get you to conform to his shape and so far, it was working.

“There you go, baby. Open that shit up..lemme have it.” Soon, the sounds of thumping and smacking began to fill the atmosphere and you’d feel those strokes become a little faster. It was then that you’d feel the swollen tip of that girthy cock not only stretching you out but precisely hitting your spot as well. Once he knew this was your sought after core, he’d hone in on it and pound away with precise thrusts; even rolling his hips and reaching a hand down to massage your clit. You’d have a moment where you’d falter and that, along with those beautiful eyes rolled back. “Fuck!..f-fuck..yes!” However, he thrived off the satisfaction of seeing your expressions and how they shifted, the deeper he got.

“Unt uh..eyes up here. Lemme see that pretty face while I fuck you..gimme that pussy, baby. Yes..”

You found his commands so sexy and soothing. His voice was soft yet stern and you felt comforted by his tone. It was no wonder that you’d become nearly entranced by him. The smacking sounds only grew louder and that was thanks to the fact that you were a dripping puddle between your thighs. Pearly white secretions leaking everywhere, even coating his shaft entirely and making quite the mess. In one fell swoop, Ony shifted from cradling you to his own body, to pinning your legs to the mattress and spreading you wide open. From this angle, he’d have an ideal view of those voluptuous tits bouncing each time he thrusted. Or just how that plump cunt looked swallowing his cock.

“Oooh..you creaming all over my dick, baby…shit’s so fucking sexy. You like the way this shit feels?” “Y-yes, daddy. Thank you, thank you!—“ declaring so with his thumb pad rolling on your clit and a long trail of saliva coating your lips. He didn’t relent, even when you’d squeeze down on him. It was every bit of eight inches and you’d nearly taken all of it at this point..you couldn’t believe it. “I just knew your shit was good..knew this pussy was the best just by looking at you.”

which made the both of you break into a slight giggle. But you certainly had help getting to this point. This was a newfound sensation and your body was reacting accordingly.

“You bring it out of me..fucking me like this—“ the incoherent babble was followed by something that would only further prove his point. When he’d keep gliding back and forth, speeding up his movements..that’s when it happened…

“Oh shit!—“ “AHH!! FUCK!…” as you’d whimper and cry out, even pawing at his abs as those streams of juices began to spill out and hit not only the linen underneath but his torso as well. Marking his decadent skin with splashes of your liquid. He’d never seen and you’d never experienced anything like it!

“..look at you squirting on that dick, baby...” although you were beginning to feel depleted, your body craved more of him. You wanted to keep going until either of you could move another inch. A wish that would soon come to fruition when you felt Ony’s thrusts become a bit more sporadic and off rhythm. He’d begin to falter, falling prey to your sex. Admittedly, it’d been ages since he’d had sex or a proper orgasm to boot but you were on a whole other playing field! The plush of those thighs, the ripple of that pudgy tummy and big tits, not to mention, the warmth of your wet hole…it was simply too much for him to fathom!

“Onyyyy!..” the louder you cried out, clawing into his skin; albeit his back or his abdomen, the more motivated he became to give you the most pleasure he could possibly help you attain. Even so, he’d make certain of your well-being all throughout. Asking if you were okay to keep moving..not doing so without explicit instructions and checking constantly to see if your expressions matched your sounds. He only wanted tears brought forth from joy and ecstasy, not pain. But the smile plastered on your face was pretty indicative of how good you felt! “Haaa..yeah, baby. I’m right here—tell me what you need…”

clinging to the last semblance of dominance he could muster, Ony slowed his pace down back to the original and held you close once more. He needed it..not just your body, but you in your entirety. He needed to hear you say that he was the one that you desired…that he could officially be your special person and never let you go for as long as he lived. It was all he had wanted, since the day he first cast eyes on you. When he first saw you in those shirts and sweats with his favorite series on it and when he first saw you in those cosplays. It was a moment that he not only wanted to remember but keep reliving. He wanted what the two of you had to last for an eternity…“..I love you....” the words sending your heart fluttering like butterflies in a garden. It was all you had been waiting to hear come from his mouth. Ony thought he’d never truly be able to utter the phrase and it has substantial weight behind it but now, he’d found his one and only who made the words come to life.

“I love you too, Ony…” so with a gentle stroke of your fingers to the side of his face, right there in that hotel room…the two of you consummated what had long since been established. The feelings of adoration for one another that could not be contained. It wasn’t long before either of you would reach your peak and before long, he was heaving and holding onto you with the last remnants of his strength.

“..come. Come for me, Ony…come in me..”

With that, you’d answer his earlier question and he’d have no problem fulfilling your request! He’d spotted you taking your birth control pills once you returned from dinner so any qualms he had dissipated. “I’m coming!…imma nut—“ veins bulge from his forehead and hands as he continues rutting into you. Ony’s fingertips grasped the headboard behind you and would serve as his balance as every ounce of his warm seed began to trickle into your inviting womb..you’d both reach that climatic peak together and following your stream of sexual secretions, was a trail of joyous tears shrouding your faces. Heavy gasps and breathless whimpers escaped your throats before you collapsed into one another’s arms. Once you were both back in the realm of reality, lying underneath him, (y/n) didn’t waste another moment before pulling him into a searing, passionate kiss. One that neither of you wanted to break.

but alas, your gazes would meet and you’d break into a fit of light chuckles.

“How you feel? You good?”

“Oh I’m just fine…are you good?”

poking fun at one another’s reactions in that final moment of ecstasy. But you were both feeling quite well after that. And you wanted nothing more than to keep reveling in it but tomorrow the big day awaited and you both needed rest…

“I’m straight…I mean, shit…you put it on me for real..where you learn to do them lil’ tricks at?” Referring to your earlier display of waterworks but you’d have to tease him once. “A lady never reveals her secrets..” you’d tease back, pursing a finger to his lips before he’d slowly began to pull out, dragging a string of pearlescent cum along with him and splattering a bit on your tummy on the way out. “Besides, I gotta finish your outfit before I fall asleep—“ “Unt uh…you ain’t getting up until you drink sum’ and wipe off. I can get you some snacks from downstairs too.” That’s when he’d roll over and crawl out of the bed, going over to the bathroom to retrieve a warm washcloth and some water from the mini fridge adjacent to the foot of the mattress. He wasn’t going to let you up until he made certain you could handle it. That was Ony’s overprotective nature for you. But it came from nothing but the purest intentions.

“That is not necessary. I’ll be fine.” “Yeah, but you my girl…and imma always take care of you. So hush.” Kissing your forehead ever so gently before sitting at your side and running that rag over your skin. It felt quite nice and you were glad he made you rest for a moment because your body had been through a foreign experience and he made every single second of it magical…you knew that you wanted to create more memories like this with him for as long as possible. Albeit a convention, a date or even kicking it at his place as you watched him play video games. You just wanted to remain in his presence and remain his girl forever.

“Aye, you gone let me sleep in the wet spot?..I wanna stay cool tonight.”

“..Ony, get away from me, please.”

even if he did work the last good nerve you had sometimes!

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dump-ster-fire · 14 days ago

Text

Exactly Your Size: Sylus X Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: A simple shopping trip turns charged when Sylus’s attention lingers a little too long and his touch follows soon after. Between the heat of his gaze and the closeness of the dressing room walls, boundaries blur fast.

Content: nsfw/smut 18+

You weren't expecting to find yourself in the backroom of a sleek underground tailor shop, least of all with him. The air smells faintly of leather and something darker, spiced, and dangerous. Just like the man leaning against the mirror with his arms crossed, red eyes watching you like a predator studying a curious little bird.

Sylus is quiet as you flip through outfits hanging along the rail, but the weight of his gaze burns hotter than any spotlight. You can feel it every time your fingers brush fabric, every time your eyes linger too long on something daring.

"This one," he drawls, stepping up behind you, close enough that you feel the heat of his breath by your ear. His hand reaches past your shoulder to pluck a deep crimson piece off the rack. "Try it on. Humor me, kitten."

You glance at the mirror and catch the faint smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. Infuriatingly confident, as always.

"Are you going to watch?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

His smile widens. "Would you mind?"

You scoff, whether to hide your flustered nerves or entertain the game, you're not sure. You slip behind the velvet curtain of the changing room. The walls are thin, and so is the fabric you're slipping into. It's clingy and cut low, hugging your frame like it was sewn to your skin. You hear the rustle of fabric just outside. His footsteps shift, and when you peek through the gap in the curtain, he's seated now. Legs wide, blazer still draped over his shoulders, one hand propped under his chin as he watches the curtain like it's the most interesting show he's ever seen.

You hesitate for a moment and then because some stupid part of you wants to provoke him back, you step out. When he sees you, his posture straightens. His red eyes drag slowly down your form, his gaze darkening as they linger on your hips, then trail their way up your bare shoulders, collarbones, neck. His Evol flickers faintly, a subtle glow in one eye. You cross your arms over your chest, arching a brow.

"Well?"

Sylus stands, slowly, like a creature uncoiling. He takes his time, never breaking eye contact as he closes the distance between you. When he finally stops, he's close enough that you have to tilt your head to meet his gaze.

He doesn't smile this time. His voice is quiet when he speaks. "You know exactly what you're doing."

You blink. "Wearing clothes?"

"No. Making me look at you like this." His gaze drops slowly. "And pretending you're not enjoying it."

His hand lifts, fingertips brushing the curve of your arm, trailing upward until they reach your jaw. He tilts your face just slightly, his thumb grazing your cheek. The touch is gentle, but there's nothing soft in his eyes.

"You always do this," you whisper, caught in his orbit.

He leans in, mouth hovering just beside yours. "Do what?"

"Say things like that."

Sylus' breath warms your lips as he murmurs, "Then stop giving me reasons."

You barely register the words before he moves. His hand drops to your waist, gripping firmly, and you gasp as he tugs you forward with no warning. His other hand finds your hip, sliding lower until his palm covers the curve of your ass, squeezing once. The contact sends heat surging through your core.

You open your mouth to protest, or maybe to dare him, but Sylus doesn't give you the chance. He kisses you. His mouth is hot and demanding against yours. His tongue parts your lips without hesitation, tasting you like he's been thinking about this for far too long. One of his hands slides up your back while the other stays low, keeping you anchored against the hard line of his body.

You gasp into his mouth as he hooks one of your legs up over his hip, pressing your bodies together so tightly there's no space left to think. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck as your back meets the mirror with a soft thud, the cool glass shocking against the heat crawling across your skin. Sylus breaks the kiss for just a second, breathing hard, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His voice is low and rough when he speaks again.

"Red suits you," he says, dragging his mouth along your jaw, his teeth grazing lightly over your pulse.

"Someone's feeling bold," you whisper, trying to sound teasing, but your voice trembles, just slightly. You can feel the smirk curve against your throat.

"I'm feeling a lot more than that," he mutters, and then he rolls his hips into you.

The pressure hits just right, and your breath stutters out of you, eyes fluttering shut as your leg tightens around his hip. Heat coils low in your belly, your pulse pounding in your ears, and you can feel him. Hard, confident, and absolutely unapologetic about what he's doing to you. You tilt your hips instinctively, seeking more friction, and he groans under his breath, the sound dark and possessive.

"You're playing with fire," you breathe, lips brushing his cheek.

"And you walked right into the flame," he replies, voice like silk laced with smoke.

His hand slips up beneath the hem of the red dress, fingers splaying against your bare thigh as he presses you harder into the mirror. Then, you both suddenly hear footsteps headed straight toward the changing stalls. Your breath catches, eyes darting toward the direction of the sound.

Sylus reacts first. His hand moves to your other leg in one fluid motion. Before you can process what's happening, he hooks his hands beneath both thighs and lifts you off the ground with shocking ease. Your legs wrap around his waist out of instinct, and your hands tighten around his neck for balance.

"Hold on," he mutters.

You do, as he walks the two of you backwards, ducking into the dressing room. The curtain falls shut behind you, cutting off the hallway light. Your back hits the wall as his body presses flush to yours, and his cock grinding directly against your core, with nothing but a sliver of fabric between you. Your breath stutters. Your hips shift instinctively, reacting to the way he fits against you so perfectly, so intimately, it's maddening. Outside, the footsteps pause. A voice follows, just beyond the thin curtain.

"Is everything alright in there? Do you need assistance with anything?"

You start to answer, but Sylus leans in, his voice low and molten against your ear.

"Say yes," he whispers. "Or I might give them something very different to hear."

"Yes. All good," you manage, your voice slightly breathless.

Too breathless.

There's a pause outside the curtain.

"...I see," the worker says. "Apologies, it's just—wasn't there someone out here with you earlier? Tall man, silver hair, black coat?"

Your heart skips but Sylus doesn't stop.

His lips trail along the curve of your neck as one of his hands shifts higher beneath your thigh, adjusting your weight with practiced ease. The movement presses your clothed pussy more firmly against the thick length of his erection, and he rolls his hips into you. You clench your hands around the fabric of his blazer as your body jolts from the pressure, a quiet gasp catching in your throat.

"I—um..." Your voice stumbles over itself. "He... stepped out. I think."

The worker lingers, clearly unconvinced.

"I didn't see him leave. Would you like me to go check the front area, just in case he's waiting for you?"

Sylus lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze. He doesn't say a word. He just grinds his cock against you again, dragging the rigid outline right over your clit, the thin fabric of your underwear doing nothing to dull the sensation. Your mouth falls open, and you have to clamp your teeth down hard to stifle the noise threatening to escape.

"No," you blurt, voice sharp and high. "No, that's okay. He probably just... needed some air."

Sylus buries his face against the side of your neck to muffle the low, guttural sound that rumbles from his chest—half-laughter, half-growl.

"I understand," the worker says after a moment. "Just let me know if you need another size. I'll be nearby."

Finally, the footsteps fade. You're still pressed against the wall, legs wrapped tight around Sylus's waist, your core throbbing and soaked from the way he's been grinding into you, his cock pressed snugly against you, only your underwear and his pants in the way.

Sylus lifts his head, eyes glowing faintly red in the dim light.

"Needed some air, hm?"

You glare at him, but before the words even form on your tongue, he crashes his mouth onto yours. The kiss is rough, consuming, teeth grazing your bottom lip as his tongue pushes past your lips to take more. Demand more. You moan into him, back arching as his grip tightens beneath your thighs, holding you pinned to the wall like it's effortless.

His hips thrust forward, and this time there's nothing slow or teasing about it. The pressure is intense, overwhelming, and your body responds without hesitation. Your chest presses flush to his, nipples aching beneath the thin fabric of the dress, rubbing against his shirt with every grind. His tongue moves in sync with his hips, deep, claiming, and relentless.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur against your lips, breath hot and uneven.

"You have no idea what you do to me, kitten."

His mouth trails down your jaw, his teeth catching the skin at your throat, biting just hard enough to leave heat blooming under your skin. One of his hands shifts, sliding up the back of your thigh, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your panties to squeeze the flesh of your ass directly.

You gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Sylus—" you whisper, voice ragged.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, only raw want present in his expression now. Without a word, Sylus releases his grip from beneath your thighs, lowering you slowly until your feet hit the floor. Your knees nearly buckle, the friction of his body gone but the heat of him still pulsing between your legs.

You barely have time to steady yourself before he turns you around, hands gripping your hips as he presses you face-first toward the body length mirror in the small dressing room. Your palms catch the cool surface, chests rising and falling in sync with your unsteady breaths. Your eyes lock on your reflection—flushed skin, parted lips, pupils blown wide. And behind you, Sylus. Towering. Unrelenting. Eyes glowing like embers.

One hand drags the red dress up your thighs, gathering the fabric with deliberate slowness until it's hiked above your hips, bunched around your waist. His other hand trails down, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. You gasp as he pulls them down, the lace sliding over your hips and thighs, cool air brushing suddenly exposed skin. He lets them fall around your knees.

Your breath catches as he leans in, his chest pressing against your back, his mouth near your ear.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" he murmurs, voice thick, his fingers spreading you open just enough for the cool air to make you shiver. "Parading around in red... teasing me."

You didn't speak, finding yourself unable to form a response. Behind you, you hear the distinct sound of leather sliding free and the soft click of his belt buckle being undone. The noise sends a jolt straight down your spine. He takes his time with it, letting you hear every motion, the soft clink of metal, the tug of fabric, the hiss of his zipper being lowered.

You grip the mirror harder.

"You've got no idea what you do to me," Sylus mutters, his voice low and molten as he steps closer. His now-loosened pants hang low on his hips, and you feel the heat of him press directly against your skin.

He slides one hand up your spine, the other staying low, splayed possessively across your hip. His cock nuzzles between your thighs, dragging slowly over your pussy without pushing in, the thick head catching on your slick entrance as he groans softly behind you. You whimper, hips rocking back instinctively, seeking more.

In the reflection, you catch a glimpse of him, silver hair tousled, red eyes dark and dilated, jaw clenched in restraint as he watches the way your body trembles under his touch.

"You're going to remember how this felt," he whispers, voice a growl, "every time you look at this dress."

He rocks his hips forward, the thick length of his cock dragging across your pussy. Your knees threatening to buckle beneath the weight of sensation.

"Please..." you whisper, the word slipping out before you can stop it.

Sylus groans low behind you, his fingers digging tighter into your hip. His hand glides from your hip around to your stomach, pulling you back into him as he presses the head of his cock right against your entrance. You arch back instinctively, your body open and ready, needing.

Your mouth falls open as he slides inside, the stretch steals your breath, your hands bracing hard against the mirror as your body takes him, every nerve lit and pulsing from the pressure. He groans behind you, low and guttural, his fingers flexing where they grip your waist.

"Fuck," he breathes.

You try to answer, but all that escapes is a broken sound in your throat as he buries himself to the hilt, the base of him flush against you, his pelvis pressed tight against your ass. Your walls flutter around him, body instinctively adjusting, tightening. He gives you only a second, just long enough to let you feel how deep he is, before he starts to move. Your forehead falls to the mirror, your breath fogging the glass as pleasure builds fast, hot, and helpless.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoes faintly in the small dressing room, muffled by the fabric and your gasping breath. He grinds into the soft spot deep inside you that makes you quiver and your voice catch. His hand slides around your waist, palm flat against your lower stomach, holding you against him as his cock moves in long, unhurried strokes.

You catch your reflection, barely, dazed and flushed and trembling, your mouth open in a soft moan you can't control. Behind you, Sylus's eyes are fixed on the same thing. On you.

He thrusts again, deeper this time, grinding the base of his cock against your ass while his hand slides lower between your thighs, two fingers slipping in to press right against your clit. You cry out, the sound caught in your throat, your whole body jolting forward from the shock of pleasure. His thrusts don't slow. If anything, they grow sharper, his hips snapping forward with every roll. The combined rhythm of his cock and fingers becomes too much. Your thighs tense, stomach tightening, your inner walls clenching around him, slick and pulsing.

"You see yourself?" he murmurs, voice low and rough. "That's what you look like when I'm fucking you."

You nod helplessly, unable to speak as your body coils tighter and tighter around the pressure he's building inside you. He thrusts once more, as his fingers circle your clit fast and perfect and you break. The orgasm hits you hard, tearing a cry from your lips as your body clamps around him, tight and throbbing. Your hips jerk, muscles spasming with each wave that crashes through you, and Sylus doesn't stop—he holds you steady, fucking you through every pulse and twitch until you're shaking in his arms.

Your name slips from his mouth, almost like a growl, as your release drags him closer to the edge. You feel him twitch inside you, hips jerking with growing urgency. His breathing turns ragged and a sharp groan escapes him as he comes, cock pulsing inside you as his body shudders against yours. His forehead drops to your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin as he rides it out, his breath hot and uneven against your neck.

For a few long seconds, there's nothing but the sound of your breathing, the faint buzz of the light overhead, and the pounding of both your hearts. Then he leans back just enough to look at you in the mirror again, his silver hair a mess, his eyes still glowing faintly, his mouth curved into something that's not quite a smirk.

A noise outside the curtain. The return of the sharp sound of footsteps. A clipboard shifting. A polite but too-close voice following.

"Ma'am? The store will be closing in a few minutes."

You jolt, your whole body tensing as your eyes snap toward the curtain. In the same second, Sylus slides out of you, careful but fast. You bite your lip, swallowing the soft sound that rises from the sudden emptiness and overstimulation.

"Also..." the worker continues, their voice moving a little closer, "we weren't able to locate the man you were with earlier. He's not out front."

Your eyes dart to Sylus, who's already fixing his pants, cool as ever, if a little breathless. The red glow in his eye is gone, replaced by that unreadable calm you've seen on him one too many times. He kneels briefly, tugging your panties up, smoothing your dress back down with steady hands. His fingers linger at your hips for half a second longer than necessary.

He straightens while you're still trying to smooth your hair and he takes a half step forward and brushes a knuckle down your cheek.

"Take a breath. I've got you."

Outside, the worker lingers, clearly waiting.

Sylus leans close, lips brushing your ear. "Try not to look too wrecked when we step out."

Then, just like that, he pulls the curtain open and strolls out ahead of you, shoulders relaxed, expression without a trace of guilt, only satisfaction. You take one last deep breath and follow him out of the dressing room. The air outside feels cooler, too open after how close everything just was. Your legs are still unsteady, but you manage to walk upright, smoothing your dress down with trembling fingers as you step into the fluorescent lighting.

The worker stands just a few feet away, trying very hard to look professional. Too hard. Their gaze flicks from you to Sylus, then back to you again, pausing just long enough on your flushed face, your tousled hair, and the slightly crooked line of your dress to give away exactly what they're thinking.

"I see," the worker says stiffly. "Glad everything... fit well."

You open your mouth, scrambling for something—anything—to say.

Sylus glances at the worker, eyes sharp with knowing amusement. "Perfectly," he says, smoothing the sleeves of his blazer. "Appreciate your concern."

The worker shifts, clearing their throat. "Right. It's just—we noticed you weren't at the front, so I came to check."

"I don't like crowds," Sylus replies smoothly, voice dry with just enough charm to sound polite. "I prefer quiet spaces."

The worker clears their throat. "Well, we'll be closing in about five minutes. Feel free to bring the dress to the front if you'd like to purchase it."

"Already decided," Sylus replies before you can. "We're keeping it."

You glance at him.

"We?" you murmur.

He leans in slightly, voice low and amused. "Consider it a souvenir."

Then he turns, strolling ahead toward the front of the store with the same confidence he always carries, like he owns the ground beneath his feet. The worker gives you one last look, an odd mix of judgment and envy, before stepping aside to let you pass.

And you follow Sylus, pulse still racing, wondering if you'll ever be able to wear red again without remembering exactly how it felt to be his. Even for just a moment.

#love and deepspace #lads sylus #sylus x reader #smut #18 + content #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads smut #lads x reader #sylus x reader smut #love and deespace smut #sylus x you #qin che

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phantomsies · 10 months ago

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my dress up darling • ony

convincing your friend to go to a convention with you turned out to be the best idea ever!…but it’s what happens before the event even arrives that makes it all the more fun..

📝: blerd!ony, black fem!reader (plus size coded), PWP, finger sucking, thigh riding, fingering, handjob, pet names used (mama, baby, she slips up and calls him daddy), lots of praise, tit/nipple play, nasty hotel sex, tiny mentions of blood + injury, reader is a seamstress/cosplayer, missionary, squirting, friends to lovers, lots of humor and banter, creampie, aftercare

word count: 6.3K

this was a lil something I’ve been wanting to write for the longest bc blerd!ony altered my brain chemistry and I miss him tremendously (and the next time I go to a con, I’m totally not hoping to manifest a tall, darkskin, nerdy cosplayer bf🌚 just joking y’all! That would literally never happen. But I hope y’all enjoy this

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Ow..damn, this hurts already..”

“You good over there, mama? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m just fine, Ony. Despite the fact that my legs are still shaking and I’m sore as hell.”

but just what was Ony referring to? Well…it all began last night in the hotel room…

flashback

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Ony! Can you stay still, please? I’m tryna finish this last piece.”

“C’mon, ma. Can’t you do it later on?”

“If it gets any later, imma be sleep so no. You can pause that damn game and wait for me to finish sewing this on.”

“Awww, c’mon! You keep blocking, bro. I hate this damn combo—“

“Ony, I’m fine. Really..I’ll just wrap it up later..”

“I appreciate that..I’m just happy you decided to come with me. It means a lot. I usually do this by myself so I feel a lot better with you around.”

“..Ony..”

“You gon’ let me do that, baby?..Can I play with this pretty pussy?..”

“Mmm…I knew this shit was gon’ be wet but damn..look at my fingers already and I ain’t even stuck ‘em in..”

“You so fucking pretty, baby. I swear I be so happy when you’re around..”

“Here, lay down f’r me, mama. Just like that..and keep them legs spread.”

“Oh God—“ “Fuck…”

“Unt uh..eyes up here. Lemme see that pretty face while I fuck you..gimme that pussy, baby. Yes..”

which made the both of you break into a slight giggle. But you certainly had help getting to this point. This was a newfound sensation and your body was reacting accordingly.

“..come. Come for me, Ony…come in me..”

but alas, your gazes would meet and you’d break into a fit of light chuckles.

“How you feel? You good?”

“Oh I’m just fine…are you good?”

“Aye, you gone let me sleep in the wet spot?..I wanna stay cool tonight.”

“..Ony, get away from me, please.”

even if he did work the last good nerve you had sometimes!

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selfindulgenceisthekey · 2 months ago

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If You Thought It Was Real Pt. VI

Pt. I Pt. II Pt. III Pt. IV Pt. V

“What made you join him?”

The chopping of the vegetables made a rhythmic sound, coupled with the soft laughter and shouting sounds from the deck. Sanji hummed at your question, not taking his eyes off his task, though you knew his attention had been directed to you.

“You had told me a bit about the restaurant you worked at before,” You continued, “I guess I don’t see how someone goes from that to… piracy.”

“Well, I was raised by an ex-pirate,” He responded, a light dusting of humor in his voice as he finished with the vegetables, moving to place them in the pot on the stove, “So it wasn’t that much of a stretch.”

He wiped his hands off, eyes drifting to stare out the window, lost in his thoughts. You waited, genuine curiosity bubbling in your chest. After another moment of silence, he turned to you, blue eye shining in the sunlight, a smile on his face as he leaned on his elbows, face inches from yours.

“Have you heard of the All Blue?”

“Dear, you really need to eat.”

You stared at him, eyes narrowed, silence having sewn your lips together. He just sighed, as if this was a silly tantrum to him. The plate of food was left untouched, despite the grumbling in your stomach. You’d gotten weak being around them for so long, normally, it took at least three days of no food for it to start hitting you. Now it’s been barely over a day since you woke up, and you were fighting yourself to avoid the plate of food.

“Was it not to your liking? I can make something else, feed this to Luffy.” He was joking now, voice light and soft as he continued to direct questions towards you.

It was perfect, you could tell just by looking at it, smelling it. It was your favorite meal, something he’d learned and memorized within the first two days of knowing you. His kindness was bordering on cruelty at this point.

“But if you don’t begin eating on your own accord, then Chopper’s going to have to step in,” This was the first borderline threat he’s made towards you, and the name of their doctor made you sit up straighter, “He isn’t happy I’ve let you go so long without eating, but I told him you just needed time, and you’d eat on your own.”

“And if I don’t?”

There was silence as he stared at you, a soft hum coming from him, before he made his way towards the sick bay door, “I believe Chopper called it— what was it? A percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy, a feeding tube. He’s never had to do it with any of us before, but he has had to do the procedure.”

A feeding tube? You felt the blood run cold in your veins. Sanji just smiled, “I’ll be back with something else, maybe something softer on your stomach. Chopper will check in on you in a bit.”

Chopper will check in to make sure you are eating, basically.

The door shut behind him, soft as he did so, but it echoed in your mind.

“The All Blue?” You blinked, head tilting curiously, “What’s that?”

How he loved it when people asked him that. It filled him with some level of childlike glee. Luffy often told him he had an “All Blue Smile”, and he couldn’t even argue against it.

“It’s a mystical sea,” He began, and you leaned closer, ever so slightly, “It’s a sea where all the waters connect, fish from everywhere— East Blue, West Blue, North Blue, South Blue— can be found. For a chef, it’s a dream. It’s somewhere in the Grand Line, and I’m going to be the one to find it.”

He didn’t even bother trying to hide the happiness in his voice, and it seemed like it was contagious. You were smiling back, eyes shining as you reflected his excitement.

“What are you going to do when you find it?”

When, not if.

That small detail had his smile growing.

“I’m going to open my own restaurant, have a world-class menu. I’ll show that old bastard Zeff how much better my recipes are.”

The giggle that fell from your lips had his heart racing in his chest, and he had to tear his eyes away from your smiling face, lest he burn dinner.

“Did you talk to her?”

Chopper sounded nervous, turning to stand on one of the dining chairs, peering at him.

“I did,” He handed the uneaten plate to Luffy, who happily scarfed down the room temperature food, “I’m making something specific for her, something lighter. I told her you’d be in to check on her a bit after.”

Chopper huffed, turning back in his seat, plopping down.

“I don’t want to use the feeding tube, but she needs to eat!” He was back on his previous explanation, and Sanji wasn’t sure if he was trying to justify it to himself or to Sanji, “Her body needs the proper nutrients to heal all her injuries!”

“Sanji,” Luffy was whining, the empty plate quite literally licked clean, “Can I have more?”

“No,” He didn’t even turn to look at his captain, pulling out a small portion of different ingredients to make you a bowl of chicken congee, something Zoro had introduced him to at a smaller island months back.

“Please!” He ignored the begging sent his way, the plate having been aggressively placed in the sink.

Chopper was still muttering to himself at the table, quiet enough that Sanji knew he didn’t need to hear it. Luffy was whining wordlessly, and Sanji tuned it out easily.

“What about you?”

“What made me join Luffy?” The question dropped from your lips sarcastically, and he laughed, head thrown back some.

“What’s your dream?”

The question, however small it was, seemed to change the mood immediately. You went quiet, the smile on your face freezing, before slowly fading. You blinked a few times, pulling your hands to your lap.

“I… don’t think I have a dream.”

The sadness in your voice struck him deep, and he angled himself to watch you.

“It doesn’t have to be something grand,” He did his best to keep his voice soft, “It can be anything.”

You seemed to take those words in, and he let you sit there for a few moments, the kitchen quiet.

The sick bay was becoming a regular sight for him at this point, as he opened the door. You were still sat on the bed, blanket wrapped around your shoulders like a cape. His movement caught your eye, and you glanced up, gaze falling to the small bowl in his hands. It was steaming, fresh, and hot. Chopper offered to crush up some sedative pills, just enough to calm you down, but Sanji refused. You’d come around, he knew you would.

“I made some chicken congee,” He stepped forward, placing the glass of water down on the table next to you, dragging the seat closer to you, “Easy on the stomach, and good for you. Chopper says you need more nutrients to helps you heal.”

He held tight to the bowl, watching for your reaction. In his ideal world, you’d let him spoon-feed you. Second to that, you’d take the bowl and eat it yourself. If you refused this meal, not even Luffy would be able to stop their doctor on a mission.

It was silent, thick, and heavy as you both sat still. Finally, you reached forward, grabbing the bowl from his hands. He could tell from the way you moved, you were doing your best to avoid any and all physical contact. That stung, but he’d ignore it for now. You were still processing everything, after all.

He couldn’t help but smile as you slowly began eating, and even as you kept your movements calm and slow, he could see in your eyes as your hunger hit you full force. He knew that look, and he was just grateful you’d taken to eating by yourself.

It was late that night, the sky was dark, stars shining through. The dock and town were glittering with lanterns and lights, a few people were bustling about. Most of the crew had retired, and those who remained were the pair of you, Robin and Franky, and Brook. Though the other three gave you both some space.

“I think,” Your voice was quiet, so soft he swore it almost got swept up in the gentle breeze, “That if I were to say I have a dream it would just be to be… happy. To be free.”

You didn’t look his way, eyes far away as you stared out at the water. The tides were low, he could count the coral and the starfish if he so pleased. You didn’t elaborate, didn’t say anything, or look his way.

He knew that feeling, all too well. Most of them did.

He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you towards his chest. As you settled into his chest, ear against his heart, he swore to himself he’d do whatever he could to make you happy.

He’d get you that freedom and happiness, no matter what.

Taglist: @hannahbarberra162 @sagyunaro @twismare @nerium21 @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @glaciuswduo @thekatisspooky @kultofkorii @cr4zybeach @ceramic-raven @theweirdgirl606 @jjsmeowthie @dinnersyummy @jetblackw1ngs @mizzhellsingsstuff @naheku @onepieceofass @zoecelestine @1sosleepyy @rururgent @flow33didontsmoke @mizzhellsingsstuff @maria-chwan @honestlywtfisgoingon @qalable

#one piece #one piece x reader #straw hats x reader #strawhats x reader #if you thought it was real #op x reader #yandere strawhats #yandere one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere sanji #yandere sanji x reader

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orphicsun · 2 months ago

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Bury Me At Makeout Creek (E.W)

content: short blurb, jackson ellie (cannon divergent), angst, grieving, slight mention of ellie's eating issues, mentions of joel's death.

(-)

From the tips of your teeth to the root of your hair, you’re linked together, sewn up like a Raggedy Ann. It’s nothing new, but you still pick apart yourself. You can’t help it. You’d think after years of looking at yourself through the motioned creek reflection, it’d be clear to you who you are as a person.

Sitting upon the grass with your feet in the stream, it’s lost on you. You look up to the trees, but all you can see is the others. Jesse has a sense of humor you find comfort in, but the true safety is his tendency for responsibility and order. Dina not so much, but you love her anyway. She loves unconditionally, and you’ll always need that.

It isn’t just when they’re in your presence, but hours that go by all alone that you think of them. You can’t think of yourself; if you dwell too much on the cartilage distinguishing your nose, squint your eyes to make out the size of your pupils, you’ll feel your mind simply mix each feature together into an uncertain mix of paint-water grey. You’ll never separate anything from yourself again.

“Thinking again?” Ellie will separate you, though. You give her eyes a small jolt at first, startled by her sudden approach next to you.

You’ve grown used to her visits to this same creek, to you. It would make no sense weeks ago, but what good does sense make now? Just a mutual friend is Ellie, but the loss of Joel leaves her all odd to perception. She does things she normally wouldn’t do.

You’re spooked like a horse and something within her wants to snicker, but the thought of letting loose anything but quiet conversation makes her stomach churn with nausea, an empty feeling when your stomach is so light already.

You lay back against the grass, the back of your legs flush with wet sand. Ellie remains upright. “Do you ever think about what I look like?” You ask, mostly hushed and minorly curious.

She scoffs, but you don’t flinch at the usually impolite sound. “I don’t care about that. Why would I care about any of that bullshit?”

You think of Ellie’s words as so interesting to the ears to pick up on–always barking and loud in their content, but her volume is quiet. You’re one for feelings, so despite the lack of closeness between the two of you, all you’ve felt is a concern bubble deep inside. She hasn’t always been this quiet.

You don’t know why Ellie talks to you all of a sudden. Simply writing it off as an oddity for grieving is easy, though. Still, you like to wonder. You’re always stuck in your thoughts, but that is another reason to question magnetism. You’re worryful, absorbed, sensitive. She has always been a false stoic, so maybe before the incident, you wouldn’t have questioned it. Now, she goes about Jackson as though she feels nothing, a shut-down vessel frozen from the moment he lost his breath.

You shrug, though. “People care about looks. It means a lot to them.”

“Do you?”

You shake your head; she nods. “Right. Neither do I.”

You want to let it go, but you can’t. You can’t stop yourself from pulling apart each piece of you, even if it’s a trifle in a world in which creatures would happily pull you apart for you. “I just wish I liked myself.”

Ellie pulls miniscule blades of grass from the ground below the both of you. “You told me last week you don’t know yourself, though,” she murmurs quietly. “How can you dislike something you don’t understand?”

That makes you want to laugh. She is here, quietly comforting you in your ridiculous, self-made problems, all the while grieving her father figure. The thought of your own previous words, your own initiation into this arbitrary conversation rings you silent.

Ellie sighs. “C’mon, don’t do that. I don’t mind it, you know.”

You know that, too. You’ve accidentally forced it past her lips–she doesn’t mind it. In fact, it distracts her from the bloody sights she would think of instead. You save her, even with the stupidity of your own issues. Still, guilt gnaws at you.

“Can I at least hug you?” You break your silence with a quiet chirp. Touch is something you’re unsure of with Ellie. Should you, should you not? Sometimes when you touch, you can feel the stiffness in her body. You easily pull away and talk instead. Other times, she holds you tightly as if you’ll slip between her fingers like sand.

This time, she nods and adjusts her posture. You rise and meet her welcoming arms halfway. Hugs with her are always nice. The general idea of a hug is awkward and distant, leaving you with doubt, but Ellie holds you rather than a mutual embrace.

She mumbles something quiet and unintelligible against your shirt but you won’t ignore her, so you nod along. You can feel a few tears seep through the fabric and onto your skin, and you think you know Ellie well enough, but she is already pulling away and standing up to leave you again.

It’s not that you don’t know her, though. It’s just the situation. That fact is comforting.

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @sawaagyapong, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @human-cacti, @tphmnv, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @vixxxen, @aceywaycy, @abbysbutch, @evoscancelled, @x0x0xkimara, @aviixol want to be tagged? click here!

#ellie williams #ellie angst #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie x you #tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x female reader #the last of us 2 #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2

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fizzyapplecandy · 4 months ago

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The one where you fall in love with a pirate

Hyung line X fem reader

Genres and warnings: short imagines, fluff, mature language, humor, so many kisses

Word count: 4k

I've been on a roll with our hyung line, and I can't stop thinking about a pirate au. Maknae line will be out shortly.

Lots of love, and happy reading X

Hongjoong

Your relationship with the Captain has always been a bit strained. He wasn't too fond of a female crewmate, but his fellow pirates adored you. He, for the life of him, couldn't understand why. Women weren't meant to be out on the sea, and you'd proved his point many times. You were constantly sea sick, the rocking causing your nausea. You hated getting wet, which happened a lot on a pirate ship. You also hated how out of touch you were with the world all the time.

Sure, you cooked for them. You even payed attention to all of their preferences, always making a variety of dishes. You kept the deck pristine, and the boys now had clean clothes, sewn together where needed, always neatly stacked in their cupboards.

Wooyoung pleaded with him to take you in, stating how cruel the townspeople were towards you. Your father was a gambler, and people were after you to pay his debts.

To this day, Hongjoong doesn't know what came over him to say yes. Maybe it was the terror written so clearly on your face, or the bruises visible on your arms. Or the fact that you were... Pretty. Soft spoken, well mannered, and a much needed addition to their ship.

He would never admit it out loud.

One night, he couldn't sleep, so he went out on the deck to get some fresh air. He was surprised to see you there, sitting on a barrel in your nightgown. The flimsy material wasn't enough to keep you warm, he thought. Nights in the open sea could get extremely cold.

Without much thought, he took off his coat and placed it over your shoulders.

You weren't aware of his presence until he did so, and it startled you for a second.

"Oh, Captain! You don't need to do that, you'll freeze!" You were about to take it off and give it back, but Hongjoong stopped you, placing his warm hands over your cold ones.

"No need. I can handle it. You on the other hand..."

He took in your red cheeks and pale lips, your whole body shivering, teeth almost clicking together.

You chuckled and wrapped the coat tighter around yourself.

"You're right. Silly me, I was in such a rush..." You stopped suddenly, turning your head away.

Hongjoong leaned on one of the pillars, gaze fixed on you.

"In a rush? Care to explain?"

You swallowed, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. Hongjoong was intimidating, and you experienced first hand why the called him the 'Sea Monster' in your town. However, the amount of care he put into his crew, the sheer worry on his face whenever one of them wasn't okay... It told you much more about the stoic Captain than he liked to show.

"Well... I kind of... Have nightmares. They aren't that bad anymore. I think being on this ship with all of you helps." You glanced at him, noticing how he hasn't moved an inch, paying attention to your words.

"Sometimes I need to feel present. I need to know that it was just a dream. So the cold kind of... It lets me know I'm here, and I'm safe."

You stood up and turned towards him fully.

"Does that sound weird?"

There was a pause between you. No words were said, but your eyes never left eachother.

"No, it doesn't sound weird. But getting hypothermia isn't the best solution, you know?"

Did he just joke around with you? That's a first. Before you could help it, a giggle left your mouth. You quickly covered it with your hand, eyes widening.

"Am I amusing you, Miss Y/N?"

Hongjoong's tone was relaxed, and you felt like he was almost mocking you, but not in a bad way.

"Ah, no, no! Sorry! It's just... I haven't talked to you like this... Ever. So, you know..." You trailed off, not knowing what to say.

The Captain made his way over to you, now inches apart. He took in every little detail of your face, as if he finally gave himself permission to indulge in his curiosity towards you.

"We talk. You just don't listen to me. Maybe you find me boring compared to the others?"

You flailed your arms around, shaking your head.

"Of course not! You're not boring! I mean, your the Captain! You always tell these amazing stories, and you're so kind towards everyone, even though you don't like to admit it. You... You saved my life that day, and I'm forever in your debt."

Hongjoong didn't know what came over him. One moment he was watching how your chest rose and fell after your energetic exclamation, and in the other, his hands were on your cheeks, lips firmly planted against yours.

You made a noise of surprise, not expecting the kiss, but you certainly didn't mind. In your head, it kind of happened differently, but now that you were wrapped in each others embrace, you wouldn't want it any other way.

There was no saying who pulled away first, but you were both breathing heavily, and your giggles filled the air again.

"Oh my Captain... That was..."

"Yeah... I... Y/N..."

You shushed him, grabbing his cheeks between your palms, placing another sweet kiss on his lips.

That night, in the warmth of his embrace, you were rooted in the moment, and it was the best one in your life so far.

Hongjoong just had to make sure the next one would be even better.

Seonghwa

Of course he had the task of keeping the princess occupied. He figured they'd make Yeosang do it, but he would have probably freaked you out with his staring.

Seonghwa watched as you shifted in your seat, back straight, hands crossed in your lap. You were the epitome of royalty, and you stood out like a sore thumb in the dingy old room on their ship.

For someone who's just been kidnapped and held at ransome, you seemed pretty calm.

"How much money did you ask for?"

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed.

"Excuse me?"

You turned towards him, your stance as perfect as ever.

"Money? You did ask for it in favour of giving me back? Otherwise this would be a ridiculous way of courting me."

The pirate stood flabbergasted. A smile was about to make it's way on your face, but you managed to control your emotions.

"Well..." He started, voice a bit unsure. "Our Captain does the deals, but I assume you're worth a pretty penny."

You nodded, and he thought you'd go back to being poised, but you managed to surprise him again.

You shot up from your seat, startling the poor man. The crown you wore was ripped from your head, and you placed it in front of Seonghwa.

"Here, this is worth more than a pretty penny. Go give it to your captain, and ask him if he needs a maid or a cook on this ship."

"What?"

Seonghwa watched the woman, noticing how her expression hasn't changed. She was dead serious about this.

"You heard me. I'm sick and tired of living like Rapunzel! You probably don't know who that is, but nevermind. I want to sail around the world, go on adventures, you know? I don't want to marry a prince, and I cannot stand being in dresses like this anymore!"

Seonghwa didn't know whether to be scared or turned on by you. You were a strong willed woman, and you weren't backing down. For some reason, he couldn't help but feel intrigued. Maybe keeping you with them wouldn't be such a bad idea?

He stood up from his seat and grabbed the crown from the table. Without another glance towards you, he went to the door.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Oh come on! You literally don't let me do anything fun around here!"

"Yeah, well, that's because you get into trouble more than I anticipated. Now let go!"

You and Seognhwa were playing tug of war with your favorite bag. The boys went out into town to gather supplies for your next trip, and you wanted to go with them. Seonghwa was stuck babysitting you again, and he wouldn't let you leave.

"Please! Do you hate me? Do you not want to see me happy! Come on Hwa!"

It's been about three months since you ran away with them, leaving your castle and princess status behind. Seonghwa asked you from time to time if you regret your decision, but the answer was always a strong 'No'.

"Princess, I've about had it with you! Can you please just let go and sit still for once!"

Now, that wasn't the tone of voice he usually used with you. He was accustomed to your antics, and he let you do whatever you wanted, but he never once sounded as serious about saying no as now.

You slowly loosened your grip on the strap, and you could tell something was wrong with him.

"Hwa? Hey, I won't go. See? Here's the bag, take it. I'll stay on the ship."

He only nodded before turning around and marching to the other end of the deck. You quickly followed after him, trying to look at his face, but he wouldn't turn your way.

"Seonghwa? I know I'm a bit tough to deal with, but something's up with you. Wanna tell me before we start a guessing game?"

His hands gripped the railing tightly, and he tried to calm down enough to look at you. Seonghwa knew his fear was a bit irrational, but it wouldn't go away. He also knew he had to tell you before you started freaking out.

So, he took a deep breath and turned to look into your eyes.

"Listen. I know you love it here. I know you love the boys, the ship, the food Wooyoung makes, the strange animals San sometimes brings aboard... But what if..." His gaze fell to the floor.

"What if, one day, you venture out into the city and realise you miss it? What if you want to go back?"

Seonghwa paused, noticing how quiet you were. As if sensing his unease, you came closer and took his hands in yours.

"Go on." You whispered.

"I can't let you go, Y/N. I... You've made me so happy. Even though you give me constant headaches, I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Oh Seonghwa..."

Before he could tell you to let him down easily, he was surprised with your lips pressed onto his. He quickly gathered himself, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, getting lost into the passionate kiss between you.

You pulled away first, and he was about to chase after you, not wanting it to be over, but you placed a finger on his lips.

"I just want to say... I will never leave you. Yes, I love exploring the city, but I've found my home now."

You leaned your forehead onto his.

"You are my home, Seognhwa."

After that, he let you wander off as much as you wanted, because he knew you'd always come back to him.

Yunho

"Hey! Get back here you son of a bitch!"

Yunho never ran so fast in his life before. His legs were about to give out, but thank goodness the dock was close.

You see, he may or may not have gotten into a slight altercation with a merchant.

The man wanted Yunho to pay for the compass, whereas Yunho... Well... Didn't.

Now, he was in a chasing match with said merchant, as well as three of his friends. They were surprisingly slow, and he thought he was in the clear until he bumped into something.

Or more precisely, someone.

The basket you held flew up in the air, and it was raining apples all around.

"I think he went that way boss!" The men were coming closer, and Yunho cursed from his position on the floor. You on the other hand dusted off your skirt before kicking the man in the leg.

"Hey, I'd say you have about five seconds before they catch you, so why don't you hide in my shop?"

His eyes widened, and he quickly got up and followed after you. You ushered him behind the counter and motioned for him to stay quiet.

There was noise outside, and the door of your shop opened.

"Hello there Miss Y/N. You didn't happen to see a mongrel with long legs running around?"

Yunho glanced at you from his crouched position, and you seemed casual enough.

"No, I can't say that I have. Sorry gentlemen."

They grumbled, but soon enough, the shop was enveloped in silence. You glanced outside, seeing them going back where they came from.

"All clear now big boy. You can come out."

Yunho poked his head up, and you chuckled. The tall man gave you a youthful vibe, and the smile on his face made you stop in your tracks.

"That was a close one. Thank you, little lady. I'm sorry about your apples."

You waved him off while he curiously looked around your bookshop.

"Wow, quite a collection. Are you the owner?"

"My father is. I just help around when I can. Now..." You stepped closer to him, examining his handsome features.

"What did you do? That was one hell of a chase."

Yunho laughed, but he stopped abruptly to check his pockets. He let out a sigh of relief as he took the small compass out. He extended his hand and held it over to you.

"Oh, wow. Did you steal it?" You watched as he nodded, expression almost sheepish.

"I didn't bring any money with me, and I know my Captain wouldn't let me go back for it because we're in a hurry, so..."

He trailed off, but you got his point.

"Ahh... I see. Well, in that case you might want to hurry to your ship before Mister Jung finds you."

His eyes widened and he rushed past you towards the door. You were almost sad to see him go.

"Thank you, again. I wish you all the best!"

He was out before you could reply, but you followed after him to watch as he ran down the street, an apple from your basket in his hand as well.

"What a silly boy..."

It's been about a month since your encounter with the gentle giant, as you called him. You couldn't stop thinking about his handsome face, and it made you sad every time. You figured he was a pirate by the way he dressed, and he only confirmed it when he mentioned his ship.

Your father always knew you were a free spirit, and he was sad you chose to stay in the city and spend your days in the bookstore. He knew you felt uneasy about leaving him, but he couldn't convince you to change your mind. That is, until he found a young man curiously peeking through the shop window.

The tall man came inside, and he could sense his nervousness in the air.

"Hello there... Is... Is the little lady somewhere around here?"

Your father smiled. "Oh, my daughter. She went out to get us some fruit. You're welcome to wait inside."

Yunho nodded, and went over to one of the shelves to browse. It didn't take long for you to return, and you almost dropped the basket of pears you were holding.

"Oh..."

Yunho turned towards you, a big smile spreading across his face.

"Hey there! Long time no see!"

You glanced at your father, and he nodded slightly before smirking. After that, he stood up and went to the back to give you some privacy.

"Yeah, long time... What are you doing here?"

You placed the pears on the counter, offering one to... Well you didn't know his name.

"Well, I... I had to go and settle my debt with Mister Jung. I also..."

He took the fruit from your hand, fingers brushing yours. You looked into each other's eyes, unconsciously coming closer.

"I had to see you again. I know it might sound crazy, but I can't stop thinking about you, little lady."

Yunho leaned in slightly, his voice almost a whisper.

"What's your name? I need to know the name of the girl of my dreams. Mine's Yunho."

"I'm Y/N." You managed to mumble, eyes still fixated on his.

"Say, you two, why don't you go back to our house and start packing Y/N's bags?"

You let out a startled noise, and turned around to look at your father. He was standing behind the counter, a wide smile gracing his features.

"Dad? What..."

"Yunho, I assume you're here to ask my daughter to come with you, is that right? I know how you pirates get."

Yunho stood frozen, surprised at how easily her dad got him figured out. He was right, he did come to ask Y/N to travel with him. His life was on the sea, has been for a long time, but she... She was something he felt was missing.

"I can really go?" You went towards your father, not believing what was happening.

He gently placed his arms around you in a hug, whispering into your ear.

"You were never meant to love a mundane life, my sweetie. Go now, before I become too sentimental."

It wasn't long after that your bags were packed and you were waving at your father from Yunho's ship. As the town you grew up in got smaller, your eyes filled with tears.

A pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and a kiss was placed on top of your head.

"Everything okay little lady?"

You turned around in Yunho's embrace, placing your hands on his chest. Without much thought, you got on your tiptoes and placed a soft kiss on his lips. He stood frozen for a moment before his arms tightened around you, deepening the kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you placed your head above his heart, listening to the steady beats.

"Everything is perfect."

Yeosang

Yeosang loved being a pirate. He loved the freedom he had, the laughs he shared with his shipmates, who he now viewed as brothers. He loved everything about his life. Apart from the times they had to wreak havoc in a random town.

They tried to bring justice where they could. Once they found out about groups doing harm on the townspeople, they intervened in no time.

Tonight wasn't any different from their usual agenda, if he excluded you.

They were seated in one of the more problematic bars in town. Hongjoong told them the job was simple - Get in, take out the bad guys, get out. There was one man, Han Sehun, and he was known for intimidating the lower class people into giving him their well earned salaries, as well as harassing women.

That's where you came into the picture. You were working the night shift at the bar tonight, and you hated it every time. Sehun was adamant on making your life hell, but you couldn't complain because you needed the job. Your parents were long gone, and there wasn't anyone in town you were close with.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't notice the handsome men making an entrance. You could tell there was something different about them.

One in particular caught your eyes the most. He had a blonde mullet, and he seemed like the calmest of them all. As if he could sense your eyes on him, he turned his head, but you managed to look away in time.

"Yeosang, stop staring at the pretty lady. You'll scare her." Wooyoung chuckled after pinching Yeosang's cheek.

He swatted his hand away.

"I'm not staring."

Wooyoung smirked. "Sure you aren't."

Without another word, Wooyoung stood up and went over to you. He smiled at you, showing you eight fingers and motioning to their table. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

Yeosang was nervous all of the sudden. He knew they were on a mission, so what was Wooyoung doing.

"Relax, Sangie. The pretty lady will bring us some drinks in a second."

Hongjoong pinched his nose.

"Now is not the time for drinking, or staring at girls. Get it together."

Wooyoung held his hands up, and Yeosang remained still. That is, until you came to their table holding a tray with eight beers.

"Here you go boys. Enjoy!"

His mind must be playing tricks on him, because it seemed like your eyes only met his before you went back to the counter.

Before he could dwell on it, Sehun started causing a scene at the bar.

"Oh come on Y/N, when will you give it up? You know I can show you a good time."

"For the last time, please leave me alone."

"Still trying to act tough? Just wait until I fuck the attitude right out of you!"

Yeosang had the sudden urge to march over an fuck up his face, but Hongjoong's glare kept him at bay. They had to wait for the perfect timing, otherwise they would cause a ruckus.

The night went on like this with Sehun's comments getting even worse. Yeosang felt immense relief when he saw Hongjoong nodd, and the plan went into action.

Soon enough, the bar was turned over upside-down. Sehun was in handcuffs, and you were hiding under your counter. The officers would be here any moment, and the boys had to run.

Yeosang glanced at his crewmates as they went down an alley, his chest tightening.

"I have to do something quickly. Meet you at the ship."

"Yeosang!" Their voices were now faded into the background as he re-entered the place they wrecked.

"Hello? Miss?"

You slowly lifted your head from your hiding place, glancing at the handsome man from earlier. You should have known they were pirates, his outfit basically screamed it in your face.

"H-Hi?"

He turned his head towards your voice, a small smile gracing his features.

"There you are. Come out, I won't hurt you."

For some reason, you believed him. After all, they managed to take away your town's biggest problem.

You carefully got up, and he could tell your dress was ripped in some places. Probably got caught in one of the broken tables.

"What do you want?" You asked, voice trembling.

He approached you, paying attention to your body language. You were still apprehensive, but slowly loosening up.

"I'll cut right to the chase. Want to come on a little trip with me?"

It's been about a month since you took Yeosang up on his offer. You weren't sure what came over you to say yes so quickly, but you felt like he was trustworthy.

Honestly, you didn't have much left in the town, and you felt like you weren't leaving anyone behind. You only gained another family, a bit rowdy, but definitely lovely and supportive.

You also gained something else along the way, and you hoped Yeosang was feeling the same.

"Hey there treasure. What's got your head in the clouds?"

His voice brought you out of your daydream, and you could feel him beside you, gripping the railing. The sea was calmer than usual, giving you a sense of peace.

"Oh, nothing much. Just thinking about you."

Yeosang let out a startled noise.

"M-Me?"

You turned to look at him, noticing the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah, you. I don't think I ever thanked you properly for taking me away from my miserable life."

Yeosang stayed silent, observing your expression. You looked... Happy.

"So, forgive me if I'm reading this wrong, but I just can't hold it in."

Before he could get a word in, you placed a kiss on his cheek, lightly catching his lips. It took him off guard, but he wanted to make sure you knew the feelings were mutual.

So, as you went to pull away, he grabbed your waist and placed a proper kiss on your lips.

You just looked at each other, smiles stretched out from ear to ear.

"I can't hold it in either."

#ateez #ateez imagines #fluff #imagine #ateez seonghwa #ateez hongjoong #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #pirate au #ateez pirate au #ateez x female reader #mature language #kisses #short imagine

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bunicate · 2 years ago

Text

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ BY YOUR SIDE . pierro x fem reader

warning ꒱ྀི incest. ddlg dynamics. daddy kink [ papa + dada ] . size kink. creampie. reader kinda being a litl brat / repost / unedited as always :p / wc ꒱ 2.5k / 18+ / ♡ + ↻ are rlly appreciated ! !

there’s the faintest, most desperate echo of a mewl that can be heard from outside the biggest room reserved for no one other than the first harbinger himself.

fourteen days he was away from you. fourteen days without your touch. fourteen days he was unable to see you. fourteen days without inhaling your scent. fourteen long, bitter, cold days pierro spent missing you and still, finally graced with your presence, he’s as composed as ever.

he leans until his back hits his chair, and he relaxes. with his half-empty wine glass discarded on a nearby tray, he eases himself down from his budding desire with deep and steady inhales and exhales. his eyes are clouded over with lust.

the level of patience pierro possessed was carefully crafted throughout the many years he’s been alive. his resilience has never been more clear than it is right now, as his daughter, whom he loves so dearly, clamored over him half-naked.

he found your struggle to be quite a show. chin resting on calloused fingers, he occasionally rubs the scruff of his stark white beard. It’s become habitual for you to crawl and seat yourself on his thick thighs. pouty and close to tears, your fingers claw at his polished suit to steady yourself.

he’s always been the one to take the lead, but he’s forfeited that control momentarily, allowing you to use him to your heart's content.

your chest bares from the looseness of your clothes, and his facade slips only slightly. your hips swivel clumsily, and his erect cock bounces off the plumpness of your butt. he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

you raise your bottom higher, placing his cock right against your wet slit that stained the coarse hairs at the base of his shaft. his body tenses at the contact, his eyes zeroing in on the pretty sheen that coated his remarkable length.

“hnnn.”

a strangled moans escape when it skims over the surface of your twitchy button—a gentle caress with enough pressure to make your back arch.

it was difficult prepping yourself for the first time, but you refused his help. you were like him in so many ways. you’re a creature constantly chasing perfection. one attempt after the other until you’d be rewarded with what your efforts promised, but pierro just didn’t want to see you hurt.

“take it easy, little one.”

his hand cups the softness of your ass, lightly squeezing it. you shake your head. brows pulled together and lips trembling as the drag of your cunt wets him further.

he expected you to behave like this.

a recent conflict pulled him away longer than he expected, and he knows that in his absence, you were unsatisfied. your fingers are not nearly as thick and long as his to ease that ruminating ache between your legs, but he was here now to finally take over, and you wouldn’t let him.

holding your chin, he tilts your head up. you see the concern sewn into his mature features.

“I'm not going anywhere; you don’t need to rush.” it’s a very simple affirmation, but it did nothing to relieve your troubles.

‘liar’ you want to retort, but you choose to remain silent. the truth is, he couldn’t promise that. you knew he’d leave again, and each time you were never sure if he’d return. how you managed to have such little faith in a man who’s lived nearly half a millennia and witnessed such catastrophes was unheard of.

to others, he’s feared—untouchable, unscathed, a force to be reckoned with, but somehow a much smaller and weaker girl— his girl worries for him dearly. It's humorous, but he could never, in good faith, hold it against you. It's been too long since he’s felt the delicate touch of another and to be looked after with such care. he’d readily take as much as he could.

you put your hand on his shoulder, and the other grabs his cock by the thickest part as it comes to life in your palm. it’s warm and beads pre-cum that slowly drips, following the path of his most protruding vein. there’s a feeling that shoots through your body, and it’s all too familiar as you watch the milky drops descend.

you have to bite back another broken moan.

hovering over his dick, you cushion it right against your entrance, swaying from the slight loss of balance. finding your footing, you try once again to tuck him between your walls, but the leakiness of your cunt makes the head of his cock slip. your frustration was an understatement.

pierro watched you closely as you moved sloppily. stuck in a mulish state, you’d rather fumble instead of asking for his help.

“you’re going to hurt yourself, love,” he remarks. while aroused by the brief contact of skin, pierro remained humbled at your show of defiance.

you make a noise, brushing off his concern and rolling your shoulders to straighten up.

“don't care, ‘need to have you inside of me.”

you huff your chest every time his smooth tip rubs your slippery opening. tracing it against the silky folds of your cunt, they separate as you struggle to insert him. you begin to brace yourself. it only takes a few more shaky attempts until his cock finally penetrates with a swift and brutal plunge.

“hmmph—!”

you can’t stop twitching around him when he’s buried so deep. your head hangs back, and your bit lip is barely enough to keep the hiss at bay. no amount of rubbing against his thigh could ever prepare you for that piercing stretch that churned your insides. the stretch that forces your legs further apart and makes your eyes tighten in desperation.

your stomach flexes, and anxiety wrecks you. you breathe audibly, finding it in yourself to remain calm, but archons — you were a few thrusts from already cumming.

“do you need papa to help you ?”

his voice stirs you from concentration, and it borders on breaking.

pierro would be a liar if he said watching you take him didn’t bring a sense of triumph. riding him was no easy task. even after countless nights and all sorts of positions, his girth still proved to be a challenge, one that would take a lifetime for you to master, and that was one of the few things he could actually promise you, time.

but you ignore him and the concern in his tone. you’re a big girl, you don’t need his help. you’ll have all of him inside of you even without the wonderful burn of his fingers to help loosen your gummy walls.

you inhale slowly hoping that it will somehow allow the tension to subside and it does. it takes a minute, maybe two until the pressure feels comfortable. you’re still not quite all the way down, there’s another few centimeters left until he’s fully sheathed inside your walls. you’ve been resting your weight on your toes that dangled close to the floor and you know you should in fact take your time, but your body refuses to cooperate.

it's a wet plop from your thighs and ass meeting his groin when you force him in.

“h-hah—!“

pierro’s cock sharply hits your precious cervix and your eyes reel back into your skull. your daddy pats your leg encouragingly. even now he could barely fathom how such a small pussy could be so accommodating.

“there you go.”

inevitably, the praise still made your chest feel heavy. “that’s it, sweet girl.” that baritone voice made blood rush to your cheeks. lightheaded is what you felt. all the fire you once possessed turned into a lovesick, numbing feeling that left you unable to retain any air. especially when he adjusted his hips and his veiny cock bumped your cervix once more.

“ah— f-fuck!” you whine.

the hand on your thigh squeezes your softness as a warning.

“language.”

you're winded up so tight, afraid that if you moved an inch, you’d cum. the tears that brimmed your waterline fall.

“s-sorry papa.” you sniffle, “but it’s so deep, n’ I feel it stretching inside me.”

“does it hurt?" he hums. “would you like to stop?”

you shake your head profusely.

“no! please, I don’t wanna stop, not yet.”

unwilling to be separated from him, you lean on his chest. it’s warm and reminds you that you couldn’t be anywhere safer. slowly, you begin to ride his cock. a messy rhythm that did enough to please you.

his dick presses against your insides as your hips rotate in sloppy circles. your clit brushes against his skin with every move, pulling you closer to the end you missed so desperately.

you speed up, chasing that feeling selfishly until it grows and becomes too powerful to control.

“daddy . . .” you try to halt your hips, but you can’t stop the desperation. you settle for slowing down even more, but it only seems to drag the pleasure out further.

“I might make a mess” you mumble. you tuck yourself closer to his chest again to escape the burning flush of embarrassment.

pierro knows your body better than you do and even before your own realization, he was able to quickly assess your expression and feel how your cunt pulses around him. he understands what’s happening before you do.

“just focus on me. focus on papa.”

you nod.

it takes a moment to get the courage to move faster, but his cock nestling in your cunt couldn’t placate you. your humps pick up, and your thinking crumbles to know people stood less than 10 feet away, walking past the room. knowing they could possibly be hearing the moist noises of your cunt while you fucked him sloppily. the nervousness wasn't present; instead, a sweltering, mind-breaking urge grew. one that turns your stomach into knots and makes your your knees dig into his hips

“let it out, my dear.”

your legs lock around him, and a disgruntled groan leaves his lips as your pussy clenches.

“daddy. ” your nails scratch him, but he doesn’t flinch nor shy away. his hardened skin from years of ruthless battles could surely withstand the dig of his daughter's nails.

with a petulant whine and submissive arch of your back, your pillowy breasts block his vision while you seize around him. clenching and unclenching, arousal streams down his massive cock and sprays his front in spurts. your hand comes to rub at your clit to ride out the addicting high.

pierro could only watch in awe. how quick and easily you came to make his shaft throb to the beat of dull and erratic twinges.

“pretty girl, you’re going to make this old man faint.”

he presses a kiss on your nipple, holding you while your cunt continues to milk him. he hasn’t yet reached his own high and still he makes no effort to rush your come down. he’s far from a selfish lover, but that was something that came naturally as it’s his job as your father to make sure you are pleased in all aspects.

pierro’s cock remained snuggled inside of you. he pressed light kisses on your skin, as your breathing slows. before you can lose yourself in it, the scratch of his beard makes you pull away. turning up your nose, you make a noise of disapproval.

“you need to shave, daddy.”

he rubs his chin to feel his beard himself. it has been a while since he’s given it a trim. “you don’t like it?”

you take a second to think, staring at the thick gray covering the lower half of his face. “that depends. can I shave it for you?”

his eyes widen a bit, and his head turns away. “that’s . . . dangerous.”

you frown. “then no, I don’t like it.”

pierro laughs, and he rubs the sides of his face against your soft cheek, the hair of his beard uncomfortably prickling your face.

“w-what, what are you doing?” the scratches against your face mushed you two closer. his nose and lips poking you until your lips clumsily collide.

“papa, stop!” giggling, you push him away, but he holds you still. the kiss is uncoordinated at first because of your laughs, but he doesn’t mind it. one peck and then another until your lips are interlocked, moving at a slow pace that manages to steal your breath.

he groans when you move closer, and he guides your hips, hoping to drag more moans out for the rest of the night. feeling his cock throb, you remember he didn’t finish, but it didn’t take long to transition from the playful atmosphere to what it was once prior. the arousal was now thick in the air, weighing you down into submission.

your father picks you up with ease and fucks you like a toy. rough hands resting on your hips drag you up and down on his cock. the schlick schlick of his cum-coated length, plunging so deeply until it kisses your womb.

“cum inside me, d-dada, use me. use me to make you cum.”

“keep talking like that, baby; daddy is so close.” your pussy puffs from his slams. how something so small can manage to swallow his sheer size amazes him. balls slap against your ass, his grip on your body is tight, digging into you, and such a display of strength it was.

“y’r so deep. . my cunny was made for you.” the words are uttered in pauses from the force of his motioning hips. your tits point towards the ceiling—your nipples, perked and moist from his eager mouth, bounce, and the sight makes any remaining coherent thought disperse.

“you’re going to take every last drop of my seed.” it’s not a question but a demand, and like you were taught, you pleasantly comply.

“yes, daddy.” the veins in his arm are pretty and decorative. you look at his flexing muscles the way you’d look at a painting. eyes, absorbing the details that marked his brown skin. sweat trailing down his massive frame.

you want to kiss him, but your wrists are bound by his hand. maybe they’ll bruise later, but it’s not a concern of yours, you only want to see the man above reach his completion.

“make it so full with your cum until it leaks out of my little pussy,” you say barely a whisper, but the effect on him is still the same.

a gruff growl tumbles from his mouth, and his grip grows tighter.

“I'm gonna give it to you. daddy is going to fucking breed you, darling.” he uses your body to pump his cock, losing himself to the massaging of your tight walls.

his cock swells inside your creamy pussy, and then a stream of cum jets out. milky ribbons plugging you to the brim until it spills from the sides.

“ah–thaaat’s it. that’s my little girl .” he grunts. squeezing you tightly, the sound of his mess squelching in the now warm room could be heard. countless nights have ended with him buried in you, and still, your cunt managed to make him feel like a young man.

he rests his head back and swallows audibly to catch himself. you watch him in amusement at his sudden breathlessness.

“just give. . . *whew* papa a minute,” he sighs.

#will edit dis tmrw #૮꒰ ๑´ତ `๑ ꒱ྀིა #tw:incest #pierro x reader smut #pierro x you #pierro x reader #pierro smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #female reader

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stardancerluv · 7 months ago

Text

What the Emperor Wants

Part Ten

Summary: Out in the country, feelings are revealed.

Notes/Warnings: 18+ mentions of arousal, dated beliefs in god/s, dated beliefs between men & women. Art/photos of sculptures used in collage are to display & give an example of some possible moments that take place in the chapter.

❤️s, comments, feedback, reblogs are all welcome and appreciated. It’s a longer chapter, but didn’t want to interrupt some of its flow. Thank you for reading! ❤️

There were so many people at the Villa, you were taken aback. So you were grateful for Aelia, at least you knew her. She showed you around while Geta tended to some matters.

Feeling terribly flustered, you found yourself outside. You smiled, spotting a small pond. Gathering your clothes, you sat down beside it. The sun was warm and the grass was soft. Seeing little fish swimming made you smile.

Leaning closer to get a better look at them, you saw your own reflection. You gasped. You had not realized how much of a lady you had become. You wondered, if your mother would recognize you. Did being around the emperor truly do this to you?

“There is the sweetest blossom of Rome. She is near fresh water. Neptune, I pray does not see you and fall in love.”

You blushed and glancing back at the clear, water smiling as a fishes swished by.

“Geta, such honey like words. Be careful we should not upset the gods.”

“I merely hope he realizes my gratitude to have such a blossom such as you.”

Your cheeks remained aflame with his words

“You are in touch with them more than I. Surely, they are aware of your true emotions.”

“I certainly hope so.”

With a soft sound, pushed himself away from the tall tree that had given you shade and he drew close; his clothes brushed you as he knelt near you.

“I already feel the good humors for being here.”

“It is the same for me. Though, I fear I may lose my way in those hallways at least once while we are here.”

You shyly looked away. A chuckle from Geta made your cheeks feel warmer.

“I had to reorient myself as well.”

Your eyes grew as you looked back at him. “Truly?”

He nodded. “Yes, I have some new furniture, works of art that have acquired since I was last here. Accommodations were also made for you.”

“I hope I wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

He shook his head. “Not at all.”

********

He swallowed, the good humors filled him to brim when he was around you. It made him restless. Made him want to do a great many things.

He slipped his hand into the folds of his clothing. His fingers easily found the small pocket that had been sewn into several of his garments. Usually he carried with him a small leaf, that he would urge Caracalla to chew on when he had one of his fits or just fretted.

Now, it held something different. A little trinket. A bracelet. He had been looking at the jewelry that he had debated wearing at the villa. It was the least he could give you for saving his life.

“Geta, are you alright?”

He rose his eyebrows. “Yes? What? Why do you ask?”

As he glanced at you he could see concern splashed on it.

“You appeared to be elsewhere, you had grown silent.”

“I am good. Very good.” He nodded. He let his fingers brush against the small treasure a final time.

“I have a gift for you.” Geta said softly.

Glancing around, he did not know why, it was not as if he cared for the words or thoughts of others. Drawing closer to you, where you sat by the pond.

“It is not everyday when one takes an active hand in saving my life. I found this treasure.”

He took his closed hand from the folds of his clothes. He opened it. The sun rays happy danced on its accents. It was lovely, gentle like you were. Not has bold as some of the pieces him or Caracalla would wear.

“Oh, Geta. I…I don’t know what to say. Such finery for me.” Your voice shook.

It caused him to inwardly tremble.

“Do you like it?”

“I do. It’s just, by the gods I never even wished.”

“That is why your emperor has bestowed it upon you, not them.”

“Yes. You have.”

“Allow me then to slip it on you.”

You nodded. “Please. I wouldn’t even know what to do.”

Easily he moved the metals as they should. He grazed his thumb over the bracelet.

“I like it. I chose wisely.” He placed your hand back into your lap.

“Oh, it is wonderful.” You brought your hand to your shoulder.

“Very fitting for one who saved me.” He smiled.

He watched as your eyes twinkled, your face became as brilliant as the sun above. His heart raced he wanted to kiss you. He would.

You trembled at the suddenness of it. But then he felt as you melted against him. Your lips responded to his.

Easily, moving just the right way he hung over you as you easily laid back. Your hair became even richer in color as the loose strands from the ribbons laid in abandon against the soft green grass. His heart beat harder as he hung over you, he anchored one of his hands in the soft earth.

Breaking the kiss so he may take a breath and allow you one as well, he smiled as you reached up and your fingers nestled in his hair.

Drawing close to you once more, his nose, his lips grazed your cheek. “You are as lovely as any nymph lucky enough to have caught the eye of a god.” He whispered in your ear. “But tell me dear nymph you will give chase and make me chase you?”

He pulled back so he could look at you as you spoke.

“Only if he wishes it.”

He smiled. “Good. Right now, I do not. I do not wish to live the tale of the mighty Apollo and Daphne.”

As he spoke those words he saw your eyes become watery.

“You know of their story.”

You nodded.

He swallowed. The words came and knot that had been tightening unbeknownst to him loosen ceased to be.

“My dear blossom.” He whispered in your ear. “I have come to care. Perhaps, my elation, my tenderness is from all that transpired. But, I promise to take care of you and devote my affections solely to you. Please do not wither into a tree where all I can do is only admire from afar.”

A tear slipped from one of your eyes. “No, I promise, as long as we can share a tenderness I will not take root and become a mere tree.”

His lips met yours.

********

You felt wonderfully rejuvenated. He had ordered a bath for the two of you. Any of the knots that had held over from the carriage ride were now gone. Now, candles flickered making shadows dance as the two of you lounged and ate.

Occasionally, you couldn’t resist looking at your wrist where the bracelet twinkled. You would not worry about what may or may not happen when you would be seen wearing it.

“How long will we be here at the villa?”

Geta, shrugged. “A few days at the very least. I already feel much better and it’s only been a day.”

You nodded and happily nibbled on the fish that was on your plate. It was fresh, mich fresher than what was served at the Domus in the city. It reminded you of the fresh fish your mother would serve your family.

“It is very different than the city. I had forgotten one can hear bird calls floating on the breeze.”

“They sound different than in the city.”

You nodded once again. “There they only know of their cages.”

“Beautiful cages, I had an artist craft a lovely one.”

“They were lovely and safe in it.”

A rich chuckle came from Geta, you glanced at him.

“Dondas, is also not harassing any of them here.”

You giggled. “Dondas is cute.”

Geta rose an eyebrow. “He’s a menace.”

“At least he makes Caracalla happy.”

“That is true.” He took a sip from his wine. “Speaking of animals, have you ever ridden on a horse?”

You looked off as if you could see the moment. “Only once.”

You still could remember the feel of the animal, how your mother had controlled the straps of rope used to control the animal.

“Oh?”

“The day, I learned how to treat a wound. My mother had snatched me up when she went to retrieve what was needed. I was small enough to ride with her and hold the items.”

“You need to have a real ride.” A pleased look came over him.

You watched as he pressed his lips together, while glancing at his arm. “Should you look at it again?”

“Yes. We don’t want darkness to seep in.”

“I will have them fetch whatever you need.”

*******

“Aelia?” You glanced at the woman who stood by the door. “Do you wish to watch me check on our Sire’s arm?”

“Oh? Yes. This is very fascinating. Never seen anything like it.”

He slipped from the top of his robe. The soft fabric pooled around his waist. His chest, resembling some of the carved statues you had seen in the gardens.

“It may still sting.” You said softly as you met his eyes.

He nodded.

Gently, you peeled back the cloth. It looked good. Not dark. Soon you poured some of the vinegar and clear oil on it to clean it.

Geta hissed.

You glanced at him under your lashes. “It doesn’t hurt too much does it?”

“I do not like it. I will be fine.”

******

You reached up to the broach that was the cause for all of this. Your finger traced the edge of it.

Geta’s and Aelia’s voice were only murmurs to you has you stood by window that led to balcony. Should you undo the clasp that held the fabrics of your clothes together, you wondered.

He had not dismissed you. Did he need you? A flutter excitement filled you. How he had wanted to be you before the party had stolen your breath. Apart of you should be scandalized, you were no harlot despite being his but it had felt so good. you enjoyed being joined with him.

You gasped as a warm hand settled on your stomach and you were pulled close. You’d know his strong frame now anywhere.

“My sire.”

An admonishing sound came from him. He was so close, you could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Geta, my emperor you wish to be this close?”

You turned your head just enough to see the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips.

“I do.”

You felt as he held you tighter against him. A gasp came from you as his arousal pressed against you. Your heart squeezed. Not in fear but in anticipation.

A soft, low chuckle came from him. “You feel what you have done to me.”

You nodded.

“You have entranced my loins.”

“I have?” You managed. “You have quickened my heart.”

“Oh? Have I?” His voice grew deeper.

You felt as his hand drifted up your torso, which made it beat harder.

“My emperor?” You breathed.

“I want to feel.” His hand then laid where it beat. A soft sound came from him. “I enjoy causing this response in you.”

You trembled as his hand then slipped under the soft fabric that had been wrapped around and draped from you. It was even warmer and softer feeling as it laid against your skin. His rings were a cool contrast.

Lightning then streaked across the ebony sky, and thunder crashed as if drums from all over were struck. Without a thought, a cry of surprise came from within you and turning you nestled against Geta. You easily found his throat and hid your face there. He smelled of honey, fruits. It was very pleasing, it felt right.

You felt as his hand rubbed your back. “My little blossom. Jupiter is just sharing his pleasure with us. From his perch in the sky above, he saw and heard us. He gave us his blessing.”

You didn’t move you. “Even though, I am just a girl who was blessed that you made me yours.” You whispered.

Despite the twinges of worry that prickled you, deep inside the desire to press your lips to his throat grew.

He chuckled. “Jupiter is very pleased. I saw you and made you mine, just as he goes after what he wants.”

The sky once again brightened as lightning streaked across once again, thunder rumbled not long after.

Hearing his words, you felt reassured. Making Jupiter happy was above all. Geta followed close to the mighty Jupiter. You felt such a great honor in all of this.

Following your urges, you pressed your lips to his throat.

@honey-eyed-munson @amethyst-serenade @screaming-blue-bagel @kitkat80 @blondie324 @alyisdead @hellomadamebutterfly @laura-naruto-fan1998 @helsa3942

If you want to be tagged, just ask!

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sometimescherwrites · 3 months ago

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Grapefruits and Pomegranates

James Patrick March x gn!reader

word count: 2.1k

content: whiny subby needy james smut, little bit of overstimulation, james begs, mentions of murder, reader is stated to be dead and a murderer but it’s not really plot relevant, penetration, reader rides james, brief oral (reader receiving, still gn!reader), once again whiny subby needy james you have been warned, mans had a 70 year celibacy streak. mdni on this one.

@authorsofghosts after 20 billion years here we are

also everyone thank @marchsfreakshow for giving me the inspiration to finish this fic + just for having top tier jpm fics in general

Ever since the Countess had officially severed their love, James had been in a bit of a purgatory.

On one hand, he could finally breathe again- at least metaphorically. Even though the breaths had been painful at first, each one an inhale of glass shards.

On the other… he had nothing left to do. Sure, he could kill people- and anyone could testify that he did. But even then, it was a limited past time, one he saved for special occasions, and it would remain that way until the year of 2026. Really, all things considered, he really had very little to look forward to.

At least when Elizabeth had humored him, he’d had one night a month to look forward to- even if she had been merely toying with him.

And even John had died- off the grounds, no less, so James couldn’t even look forward to John.

But then you’d come along.

You’d been alive, at the time, though that had since changed. Had he been the religious sort, he might’ve called you a gift from above. But he wasn’t, and if anything, much like him, you would’ve come straight from hell.

He hadn’t been this taken with anyone since Elizabeth. You may as well have been a drug- one that outrivaled any past addiction of his, save for murder. Which, in the largest stroke of luck, you shared his hobby.

Really he’d stood no chance at all when he looked at it that way. Not when you’d grinned at him in such a way that he swore he was looking at sin personified.

If there was ever a precise science to ensuring he fell deeper than the deepest depths of hell, he was sure you’d learned it. How else could you have enraptured him with such devastating ease?

He considered you a gift, a miracle after decades spent pining over his ex wife. And what more? You yearned for him in every way he did you. You matched his devotion.

Out of habit, he’d expected you to humor him with one dinner a month. Maybe two if he was lucky. But you wanted weekly- more than that you wanted nightly. More than that, you’d requested he kill you, so that you’d be bound to the Cortez- and by default him, forever.

His hunger for you knew no bounds. He wanted to consume you and be consumed by you all at once. In fact, for the most fleeting of moments, he swore he understood why Sally had sewn herself to her lovers- though as noted it was a fleeting thought.

To love you, and worse, be loved by you, was an experience James worried he’d never get tired of. You’d been so accepting of his greed for you- reciprocated it even.

The dinner date had started like every other. He’d poured you a drink, had your favorite meal brought in. Your face had lit up. He couldn’t experience the sun anymore, save for through a window, yet when you smiled at him none of that mattered.

James had put on a record- a compilation that had been put together in 1923, a favorite of his even to this day. And at the end of the night, he’d kissed you at the door to your suite. It was routine, sure, but a routine he relished.

Elizabeth had rarely kissed him, even in their marriage. You, on the other hand, regularly indulged him. Beyond that, you even initiated it at times. It was a heady feeling, to have a creature such as yourself love him in such a way.

But then it wasn’t the routine, not even a little bit.

You tugged him closer as he tried to pull away. He’d tried to keep it chaste, he truly had. But you were having none of that, tugging him by the suspenders into your room and licking at the seam of his lips, which he parted oh so eagerly.

As much as he wanted to take control of the situation, to pin you and take everything you were willing to give, to hollow you out and fill that empty space with himself, it had been so long since he’d indulged in such a way. A 70 year celibacy streak made him a weak, weak man.

You licked into his mouth, familiarizing yourself with him as he did with you. A groan tore from deep in his chest, it had been so long. In a moment of weakness, his hips rocked almost of their own accord, and a high little sound tumbled from his lips.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t orgasmed in the past 70 years, but the difference between those nights and having you right now was a starkness that rivaled night and day. And really, he was hurtling to that landmark embarrassingly quickly.

With great effort, he pulled away, blinking in a daze as he stared at you in awe. Tongue darting out out wet his lips, he murmured, “My dear, if we continue with this, I must warn you, it’s been ah… many years since I’ve been with someone in this way.”

James watches your pupils dilate in real time, lust eating away at your irises as acid eats away at flesh.

“How long?” You breathe out.

“70 or so years.”

You’ve got your hands at his suspenders, tugging him back into a deep kiss before he can even blink. If your touch was firm before, it’s demanding now and he couldn't get enough of it even if he tried. The way your hand travels to the buttons of his shirt, undoing one at a time until he shrugs it off, is affecting him in ways he doesn’t want to admit.

An almost embarrassing sound leaves him as you kiss down the column of his throat, then his chest, nipping at the skin a bit too hard. He hadn't felt this way in decades,

"You, my dear, are a devil of a being." He breathes out, coal-dark eyes fluttering for just a moment.

"Hush up," You murmur in return, hands trailing down his torso before reaching the crotch of his pants.

If the earlier cant of his hips against yours had felt euphoric, it was nothing compared to the way you cupped his crotch through the fabric of his suit pants. And to think, he hadn't even felt you yet- not truly, not in the ways he wanted to.

A blessing, or maybe a curse, was that you seemed to be almost as impatient as he was, and truly he didn't have to wait long. You had his pants off so quickly that it was almost enough to get his head spinning.

In that moment, the feel of your hand wrapping around his achingly hard cock, he swore he could've cried from the sheer relief. Though your hands were calloused from years of handling blades and all sorts of other delicious weapons, a trait acquired by your shared hobby, in that moment they were the most incredible thing he'd ever felt.

"Aghh!" A strangled sound tore from him, falling forward into your shoulder as you worked your grasp over him.

In that moment, James has to think about the most unpleasant experiences of his undead existence, simply to stop from embarrassing himself. Not that he was sure you'd have minded, you'd seemed… to say you'd seemed aroused at the revelation of how long he'd gone without a lover would be an understatement.

"Feels good, doesn't it, lover?" You coo, an almost mocking lilt to your voice.

Though he's aware you don't actually mean to mock his reaction, the tone is enough to coax another groan from his throat. He barely processes that you've removed your hand from his cock until that beautiful, blinding pleasure dwindles suddenly and rapidly.

Your hand hoovers just below his lips, "Spit."

There's no need to ask him twice, already collecting the saliva in his mouth and aiming for the palm of your hand. There's a look of delight on your face at how he so easily complies. You lean your face closer to his, lips barely ghosting over his ear, "Beg me."

James would grovel if you asked him, head already spinning. He's practically chomping at the bit, frothing at the mouth even, all over a bit of groping and the authoritative lilt in your voice.

"Please," His voice is hoarse, a deliciously desperate rasp to it, "Please, my dear. I would kill a thousand men. I would walk miles on miles on broken glass. My lips will only ever know your name. Please, you must take pity on your poor, weak, man. I'm only a man, a weak, weak man."

"I'm not satisfied." There's a hint of distaste to the way you announce it and it has him weak in the knees.

So weak, in fact, that he falls to his knees in front of you, kissing feverishly at your thighs, mouthing frantically at the fabric covering your crotch, a whined, "please" between every frantic kiss.

He's so hard, so desperate. His body aches in such an unpleasant way that it's run all the way back around into pleasure once more. He practically shoves your bottoms off, tongue at the fabric of your undergarments in a way that leaves an ever growing patch of wetness, beyond just your own reaction to the man below you.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, you take pity on him, "Up."

Like a well trained dog, he's at his feet, then practically pushing you down onto the bed with him, "Please, please, you must."

He's rocking against you so desperately, so frantically that the bed creaks. To call him a selfish man would be an understatement, everyone who’s crossed paths with him knows this to be true. And with the way he ruts against you? It’s never been more clear.

You look down at him with hazy, wanting eyes as he tugs at the last bit of fabric covering your skin, until it too pools around your feet. Barely a moment passes before he’s got his fingers slicked up and probing your hole, stretching you out in preparation for the inevitable.

Once you deem he’s stretched you out enough, you roll him over so that you’re now straddling his hips- something he doesn’t protest in the slightest.

A few firm pumps of his cock has him writhing already, and the exquisite sensation of your sinking down has him gasping, eyes squeezed shut as he does everything in his power to avoid bucking up and bottoming out in one thrust.

His head drops back like a puppet with cut strings, a loud moan falling from his lips. You feel his hands digging into the flesh of your hips, the cool metal of his rings quickly warming at the stark temperature difference.

The ��rhythm’ at first can barely be described as a rhythm, more accurately it’s the stuttering rise and fall of yourself on his cock, while his own hips buck up half of the way without fail before realizing that he’s making it all the harder to get a steady pace going.

And then a sound tears from you.

To say James is obsessed would be an understatement. It very quickly becomes a need of his to hear it again. And again. And again.

This new goal allows him something to focus on aside from how good you feel, something which would've had him cumming within seconds, he decides.

He begins to meet you half way, thrusting up as you fall down, the accompanying sounds of heavy breaths and mutual pleasure filling his ears and taking up a permanent space in his brain. When you lean down to place a messy kiss on his lips, he swears his brain short circuits.

It's all he can do to hold on as you fuck yourself down on his cock, bouncing up and down and gradually increasing your pace until he can't do anything but take it. And then all too soon, he's done for.

The orgasm is blinding, eyes rolling back and a loud, unashamed moan tearing from his throat. Though he knows it couldn't have lasted longer than a few seconds, it's almost a timeless experience. He's barely aware of your own release coating his skin, too lost in the sensation of coming down from that high.

But you don't stop. You keep going. And going, and going, and going until the pleasure has long since turned to pain and back around again.

You use him until you’ve had your fill and he stares up at you, a fucked out haze in those black eyes of his, and a smile on his lips. There’s a silence in the room, filled only by the panting of two ghosts who really don’t need the breaths they take.

Only once the ghost of what should be an ache settles into his bones does James speak a breathy,

“Again.”

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celestial-sphere-press · 11 months ago

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IT'S FANFICTION WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY!!! TIME TO SHARE SOME LOVE!!

Fanbinding: Mud Knights by @lightshadowverisimilitude

John had obviously managed to take care of himself just fine before he met me, and he had Cujo the Linebacker to take care of whatever he couldn't himself (though I got the impression that John was perfectly capable of handling most threats). I'd only known the man for a few hours and I'd apparently already dragged him into my friend circle whether he wanted to be there or not – all of that meant that it was my job to keep him safe.

This fic is so fun and by lovely fellow Temeraire fan ladyshadowdrake! Their copy arrived last week so here are the two of them together! Harry Dresden & John Marcone (& Hendricks!) get a little down and dirty in Undertown. This is definitely a common reread fic for me; the prose & humor and characterization is spot on.

This is a color palette I haven't really worked with before and I'm loving it!! The greens and the browns are lovely. The moon on the cover is inlaid marbled paper, the cloth is colibri, and the endpapers are by @renato-crepaldi.

I found a very cute Chicago skyline watercolor, which incorporated in a line art trace on the cover, on the title page spread & section titles with a watercolor moon. To finish out the spread I grabbed a jousting knight, and I'm very happy it how it turned out.

While the spine is a little curved there due to some styling on my part, this is technically a flatback book... which I had previously stated I would never sew an endband for bc I though it wasn't worth it. Whoops. I didn't realize until afterwards because these little sewn endbands felt so integral to making it cohesive 😅.

Much love to you, @lightshadowverisimilitude, for sharing all your wonderful work & creativity with us, and for being a lovely friend to hang out with in fandom.

#renegadelovesfic24 #fanfiction writers appreciation day #fanbinding #bookbinding #celestial sphere press #the dresden files #harry dresden #john marcone #if you click into the photos theyre a little higher quality as usual

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solbaby7 · 1 year ago

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Jolene

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, quick little blurb, angst w/no comfort, probably typos

summary: [ shoutout to Jolene by Dolly Parton for the inspo but me personally? i would’ve shot jolene ]

—

Envy, the killer of joy.

A feeling that turned even the most pure souls into something cruel and corrupt.

Azriel’s usual routine slightly altering to accommodate the newly Made and barely adjusting Archeron sister. At first you’d found it noble; charming—a testament to his morals and obligation to his High Lord and Lady.

But as time passed and Elain slowly got better, Az got more distant. Less talkative and unable to bring himself out of the doting nature he’d slip into when around her. “Az, my hands work. I can put my own cloak on.”

He knew it was a joke. “I know, it’s just that—nevermind.” Still didn’t stop his mouth from pulling into a barely there grimace, hands pulling away as if you’d bit him and the teasing smile you wear falls.

It’s just that, Elain always lets him put hers on and waits patiently as he ties it securely at her neck.

The step you take back is involuntary but the message is sent perfectly clear when your expression turns to stone, painful realization settling in your bones and it takes everything in you not to buckle on the spot. You’d heard stories, about one-sided mating bonds and the pure turmoil that ensued during the time it took for the others to snap but this—the Mother had a sick sense of humor. Leading you believe that Azriel could ever truly love you without it; a fate more cruel than you could’ve wished on your worst enemies. “You know what, I forgot something upstairs. Why don’t you go on ahead without me and I’ll meet up with you shortly.”

He seems hesitant to comply, brows furrowed as he tries to figure out what had changed so suddenly. After a few beats of time he relents, pressing a farewell kiss to your mouth but he’s gone before you can wonder if he felt your lips tremble.

The safety of solitude allows you the comfort to let the tears fall, shoulders shaking as sobs pull from your chest. You weren’t sure how anyone could bare it; watching the one meant for them love another more than they ever did you.

Manicured fingers curl under the constrictive necklace, tugging it off to make room for the heaving breaths you take and a choked cry fills the space when Elain stands before you. “Gods, I’m so sorry,” You stumble trying to catch your footing and embarrassment burns beneath your skin at the true beauty of her. Perfectly put together in pale pinks and pure white lace. Hand sewn jewels are smattered about the bodice of the finest fabrics, accentuating the warmth of her hair and the glow on unblemished skin. “I thought everyone had already left.” Your arms curl around yourself as you make distance between you, pulling away from her outstretched hands as if they were coated in burning flames.

“Are you alright?”

You laugh thickly but there’s no humor in it. “No,” Your heart won’t stop hammering against your chest and knots form in the pit of your stomach. It’s pathetic, your inability to even appear the slightest bit worthy in the presence of your competitor. But, what was the point when she wasn’t even trying and was still so far ahead? “I’ve been thinking about a million different ways you and I would have this conversation and I assure you, this was not in one of those scenarios.” A poor attempt at a joke but even in the midst of such conflicting and all-consuming feelings, you had no interest in being mean—it wasn’t Elain’s fault. “Forgive me for what I’m about to ask you but are you and Azriel—“ The words clog in your throat, refusing to come forward and you have to turn away from her to wipe your tears. “Are you?”

Elain’s brow furrows and you wonder if that doe look in her eye was the first thing Azriel fell for. Such purity and grace. “I don’t understand.”

“Please, don’t make me say it.” Her heart breaks at the agony in your tone, the defeated sag of your shoulders in the beautiful dress that felt less than lovely when touching your skin. Everything felt wrong the longer you looked at her. So many differences—too many for Azriel to possibly love you both without having a preference. “I love him, Elain. With every breath I take, I love him and I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of it but you—“ Mascara trails down your cheeks and the disgust you feel towards yourself is palpable. “The way he is with you, even I don’t know what that’s like.” A deep shuddering breath to prepare you for the answers to your questions. “So, please, just tell me the truth.”

“He’s been helping me adjust,” Her hands fidget before her, obviously uncomfortable and searching for a safety net but the distance you’ve made hasn’t been broken. You haven’t yelled or accused and the longer Elain stared the worse she felt. “I hadn’t considered how that might affect you but nothing ever happened.”

You shift in place, ankles screaming in your heels and you’re distantly reminded that you promised Az you’d only be a few minutes and this was starting to feel like eons had passed standing in the foyer. “Nothing?” Your voice is lifeless, fresh tears welling in your waterline as your hands grip so tight on your arms your nails bite into soft skin. “He says your name in his sleep,” Elain’s breath catches at the confession and you wonder if Azriel had ever wished to pull that sound from her. Possible scenarios of chaste touches and almost kisses flash behind your lids and the turmoil absolutely eats you alive, gnawing at your flesh and grinding at your bones until there was nothing left. “Reasonably so, your beauty is beyond compare,” Your gaze sweeps over the softness of her hair, the delicate point of her ears just barely peeking through. Soft, feminine features with curves where it mattered and none where it didn’t.

Subconsciously, you take another step back, attempting to hide the endless insecurities in the shadows casted by dim lights but the self-hatred doesn’t cease for a second when she calls your name with such pity.

“Do you love him?” You ask meekly, terrified for her answer and you’re certain she can see you trembling. The tears just won’t stop, blurring your vision and preventing you from breathing normally but something inside of you demands to stick around for her answer. “Because, I can understand how you could easily take him but you just don’t know what he means to me.” Your palm rubs at your chest subconsciously, yearning for a comfort that that hadn’t yet been created—not yet fully formed. “Maybe, it would hurt less if you loved him too—really loved him. But if you don’t, Elain please. Please, I beg of you not to take him from me just because you can.”

Elain remains rooted in place, every flawless feature laced with guilt and shame. She reaches out for you, an attempt to comfort but once her smooth hands reach you skin the sobs wrack your body uncontrollably. She’s too good; too kind and sweet, too innocent and fragile to be touching such stained hands.

It made sense. Azriel loving her. He’d always taken a liking to delicate things.

But Elain had a mate. Had a bond that was mutually shared no matter how hard she fought it. She calls your name once more, full of urgency and remorse when trying to console you but there’s no use. The dam has broken with no tools in sight to repair the damage done.

“You could have your choice of men but I will never love again.” Too much time has passed. Someone will come looking; if not for you then certainly for the High Lady’s sister and the realization has you yanking your hands back. There’s no saving your makeup and Elain can’t fight the tears that fall down her own cheeks as she watches you stumble in the heels, bend over to rip them off and cradle them close as you retreat to the staircase. “He’s the only one for me.”

“Please, I am so sorry.”

The sincerity is appreciated but the words don’t register how they should. “I had to have this talk with you,” It’s barely above a whisper, without the fae hearing Elain was sure she would’ve missed it. “—my happiness depends on you and whatever you decide to do, Elain.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #az angst #acotar angst #acotar #acotar fics

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devilfic · 1 year ago

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❝friends of the web❞

plot: you have a fear of spiders, but you've made a promise to work past it. peter thinks your determination is really quite adorable. pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: fluff, humor, established relationship, spiders (not graphic), reader has arachnophobia but is being so brave about it, based on the poem "ten legs, eight broken" by I, e on tiktok because it fundamentally changed the way I interact with small bugs forevermore. words: 1.2k. edited: 1/11/25.

a/n: I have had pretty bad arachnophobia my entire life and after reading ten legs, eight broken a while back, it convinced me to start saving little spiders I find in my house. this fic is 100% based on how that ends up going every single time. minus peter parker coming to save the day

He's careful, stomach coiled tight to control his breathing. One hand is delicately pinching a bolt with tweezers, the other holding his webshooter frighteningly still. One wrong move would trigger the suspension, and about four hours worth of fluid refill would end up all over his research notes. He has to be slow. He lowers the tweezers another half inch.

Gently, the bolt's thread catches and he releases the breath he'd been holding. In that same moment, you shout, and his tweezers slip.

It's the feeling of webs spraying him in the face that he registers first, their tendrils catching onto his glasses and nose hairs and lips. Then it's the sound of your rushed breathing, the pumping of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. He doesn't feel that tingle along his spine, but you've jolted Peter out of his spell. In an instant, he's batting away the webs and throwing himself out of his office with enough velocity to take down a wall. He's expecting scorpions, vultures, lizards, his hearing zeroing in on you, and—

—and he turns the corner and there's you, crouched on the floor, hands cupped in front of you... cocooning something. "Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa." Peter's eyes flit around the room, looking for the threat his senses ought to have picked up on by now, and kneels beside you. He focuses on your hands and your complete and utter lack of urgency. "What's going on?"

You glance to the side, so quick he doesn't even think you register the panic on his face, "Pete, thank God. Can you talk to this thing for me?"

You move your hand and the other breathing thing in the room becomes apparent. A spider, barely the size of a crumb, is crawling over mountains of carpet thread. It's moving quickly but in circles, clearly confounded by the terrain. Peter looks at you. He drags each syllable out as he asks, "Whaaaat isss haaappeniiiing?"

You shift and Peter shifts with you, keeping an eye on the spider, "This thing— this spider is such a jackass."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm trying to take him outside and he won't go."

You've got a flier for Pilates in the Park clenched in one hand, while the other is cautiously putting a wall between the spider and the abyss under your sofa, a place where even Peter dared not go. "Why don't you just kill it?"

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. You look horrified at him as you answer, "I can't kill him!"

"Do we— are we sure it's a him? Have you decided he's a him?"

"I made a promise to myself that I would stop killing."

"I don't think... okay, what's going on here?"

You struggle to explain and focus on the spider at the same time, "It's my new year's resolution: that even though I'm terrified of these things, I won't kill them anymore because... because they're living beings just like me." Peter watches you bite your lip, a twinge of pity sewn into the furrow of your brows, "So I'm putting them outside whenever I see one... if only they'd stop being so stubborn."

Peter half-laughs, half-sighs. The little spider crawling around on the ground is ignorant to your inner peril, "This isn't just because your boyfriend is, like, 1/3 spider, is it? I won't take it personally if you hit him with a shoe."

You snort and place your flier in front of the escaping spider, watching it crawl over the word "yoga" before making a u-turn for the carpet, "Of course not, my spider overlord."

You try to scoop up the spider again but every time you lift the paper, it dives off the other side and back into the carpet. "How long does this usually take?" Peter asks. He sits back on his ass, propping up a knee to rest his arm on.

"Ten minutes at best. If I don't lose them."

"Hm. And this works for you?"

You pout up at him, scooping up the spider again and watching it fly off once more, "I usually manage to get them outside, I'll have you know."

"And the screaming?"

"I never said it was a peaceful process."

"So, let me get this straight," Peter leans into you, "you spot the spider, you grab the nearest piece of paper, you try to get the spider on the paper, and then you...?"

"Scream and run until I make it to the window."

"Why— why the screaming?"

You wince, trying not to lose the bug in the carpet, "Because I'm scared they'll touch me." Your boyfriend tickles his fingers along your arm and you shiver, swatting him with your free hand.

After another failed attempt, Peter places his hand in front of the spider's path and it crawls into his palm to get to the kitchen. Before it can cross over into tiled territory, it's forced to a sudden stop, and Peter takes advantage.

It takes him three strides to get to the living room window, yank it open, and release the spiderling into the wild.

You're standing behind him with a look of frustration on your face, even though your shoulders have finally sagged with relief, "How'd you convince him to sit in your hand like that?"

"I didn't. Sticky hands." Peter wiggles his fingers at you, amused.

"Wh... that's it? Do they not usually listen to you or something?" You grab one of his hands and quickly realize he's using his ability on you this time. He's got you stuck in a handhold.

"When did I ever say I could talk to spiders?"

"I mean, it seems like a pretty fair assumption," you grumble, trying to shake his hand away before giving up, "they put their juices in you after all."

"Why would you say that?"

"Thanks for the help, by the way. I'm still... getting used to not panicking when I see them."

Peter raises his other hand to your hair and gives you a kiss on the temple, smiling against your skin, "You are so, so, so brave."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's pretty brave to show mercy to something you fear, right? You could've killed it or asked me to do it, but you didn't. You wanted it to live."

"It doesn't mean to scare me," you bring your intertwined hands up to your mouth and press a kiss to his knuckles, "I'd want it to take pity on me if it was the other way around."

"I think the spiders will appreciate that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then why do they give me such a hard time?"

"Well, you're so scared of them that you don't even realize they're just as scared of you. You gotta make 'em like you, you know?"

"Got any tips for that?"

Peter guides his free hand to your waist, rocking you side to side, "Hm. Buy them sushi. Take them to a midnight showing of Night of the Living Dead. Tell them you think their nerdy rambling after the movie is sexy..." You giggle into Peter's chest and his heart swells, "Don't laugh! It worked on me."

You tilt your head up and he steals a kiss without hesitation, making you stumble on what you say next, "How about you just come let them out for me next time, hm?"

"And if I'm not around?"

"...make me a super scientific spider catching gadget?"

Peter hooks his hands underneath your thighs and hikes you up around his waist, "I'll make you one if you refill my web fluid for me."

"You can fill me with your web fluid."

"Okay. I'm putting you in time out, freak."

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spider-man #tasm #mjwrites #fandom; marvel

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niallerspayno · 3 months ago

Text

Irish Charm - Part 1

Masterlist

As the sixth member of One Direction, you’ve always gotten along with everyone—except Niall. Years of tension boil over at the Brit Awards when one accidental matching outfit turns into something far more explosive. Is it just hate, or is there something else simmering beneath the surface?

Tags: Niall x reader, enemies to lovers, smut (bondage, oral, dom!Niall)

Part 2

…

You’ve always gotten along with the boys. From the very beginning, it was easy. Louis treated you like an old friend he just hadn’t met yet. Liam made you feel safe, protective in a big-brother kind of way. Zayn matched your dry humor and your sharp music taste without missing a beat. And Harry—Harry’s always been a soft touch. Flirty in a harmless, lazy kind of way that still manages to make you smile.

But Niall? Niall and that so-called Irish charm?

He’s never gotten on with you. Not once.

And you’re not the type to back down from a challenge.

It started off small. A few snide comments, digs you’d match without hesitation. But over time, things escalated. Tense arguments, shouting matches, moments where it got so heated the others had to step in before someone said—or did—something they couldn’t take back.

Niall Horan makes your blood boil.

Your bandmates cycle between teasing you relentlessly and being completely over your shit. There’s no in between. You don’t blame them. They’re your friends—your family. But still, every time you and Niall lock horns, there’s that unspoken something no one can quite name.

And of course, tonight, the night of the Brit Awards, they’re in one of their teasing moods.

You’re all crammed into Louis’ flat as the team gets you ready. The boys are dressed in sleek, tailored suits appointed by stylists, hair perfectly tousled, ties being knotted in front of hallway mirrors. The energy is electric—half excitement, half chaos.

You’re fitted into a deep red gown that hugs every curve like it was sewn onto your skin. The neckline dips just enough to tease, and the slit running high up your thigh leaves little to the imagination. You don’t always feel this confident, but tonight? Tonight you look hot.

When you walk out into the lounge, Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Harry are already there. They pause mid-conversation.

Louis lets out a long, dramatic whistle. “Bloody hell.”

“Wow,” Harry grins, his voice low. “You’re gonna break hearts tonight.”

Liam raises a brow but smiles warmly. “You look amazing.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything right away, just gives you that slow, appreciative once-over and nods.

You grin, confidence blooming under their praise—until you feel a familiar presence step out from one of the bedrooms behind you.

You turn at the same moment he does.

Your eyes meet.

And for a split second, there’s nothing but stunned silence. A beat of pure, mutual horror.

Because Niall is wearing your color.

His deep red tie is an exact match to your dress—down to the shade, the tone, the subtle shimmer in the fabric. It’s uncanny. Infuriating.

“What the fuck,” you breathe, eyes narrowing.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Niall mutters, practically recoiling.

And then the room explodes.

“Oh my God,” Louis shrieks, nearly choking on his drink. “You guys actually matched. This is incredible.”

“I’m obsessed,” Harry says, absolutely beaming. “You look like a couple presenting an award.”

“You’re gonna break the internet,” Zayn adds with a smirk, clearly loving every second of it.

Liam chuckles, raising both hands. “No way this is a coincidence. Someone definitely planned this.”

“I’m not going out there like this,” you snap, arms crossed tight. “He needs to change.”

Niall scoffs, full of disbelief. “Me? You’re the one in the bloody ballgown—change your dress.”

You step toward him. “This dress was picked weeks ago by a stylist, Niall. What’s your excuse?”

He gestures to his chest, voice rising. “Mine was picked by my stylist. You think I asked for this?”

“It’s your tie!” You jab a finger in his direction. “Take it off and pick another one. It’s not that hard.”

“Oh, sure. I’ll just dig through the closet I don’t have here,” he snaps. “What do you want me to do, wear Louis’?”

“You’d be lucky if he let you.”

“You’ve officially lost it.”

You’re toe to toe now, voices raised, the others watching with a mix of horror and delight.

“Okay!” Louis cuts in, clapping loudly. “This is fun and all, but the car’s downstairs, and management will actually strangle us if we’re late.”

“We have to go,” Liam adds, already shrugging into his blazer. “No time for outfit changes. Let’s move.”

You bristle, biting back another retort as you turn on your heel and storm toward the door. You hear Niall’s footsteps behind you, just as heavy, just as pissed.

The limo ride to the venue is pure tension. You wedge yourself between Liam and Louis, arms folded, refusing to even glance in Niall’s direction. But you can feel him across from you, just sitting there like a smug bastard, like this whole thing isn’t driving you insane.

You glare at him, hard. If looks could kill, Niall Horan would be six feet under before they even opened the car door.

When you arrive, the six of you pile out onto the red carpet, and the flashes are immediate—blinding and constant. Paparazzi shout names. Reporters wave you over. Cameras track your every move.

And right away, the matching tie doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Look at that coordination!” someone calls.

“They’re matching!” another shouts, and the clicking intensifies.

You feel Niall stiffen just slightly beside you. You don’t look at him. You refuse to look at him.

Louis leans toward you and murmurs, “You two are trending already.”

You groan under your breath. “Of course we are.”

“Lean in closer!” a photographer yells. “Give us the shot!”

Before you can react, Niall steps a little closer, stiff and mechanical, like he hates every second of it as much as you do. Your arms brush.

You both freeze.

“Smile!” someone shouts.

You grit your teeth and force one. Niall does the same.

It’s a perfect photo. And you hate it.

You’ve never been more aware of him than you are now—his cologne, the heat radiating from his body, the way the crowd laps up the image of the two of you standing together like you belong side by side.

You don’t. Not even close.

Inside the venue, it’s dimly lit and buzzing, every table filled with stars and glamor and the occasional faint pop of a camera flash. You’re barely through the doors when the boys take off toward your designated table near the stage.

You lag behind, taking a moment to breathe. To collect yourself. You need a seat away from Niall. As far away as possible.

But by the time you reach the table, they’re already seated.

Liam, Louis, Zayn, Harry—all strategically placed. Two on each side. Which means the only empty chair left?

Right beside him.

You stop dead, eyes narrowing.

“Are you kidding me?”

Louis sips his drink, unbothered. “Better sit down before someone else steals it.”

“You four planned this,” you say flatly.

“We didn’t plan anything,” Harry says, voice too innocent to be genuine.

Liam shrugs. “It’s the only seat left.”

Niall doesn’t look at you, just stares straight ahead with his arms crossed tight over his chest. Jaw clenched. He’s clearly just as thrilled as you are.

You hesitate a moment longer, but there’s nowhere else to go. Not without making a scene.

So you sit—hard. The chair scrapes loudly against the floor, and Niall flinches.

“Don’t crowd me,” he mutters under his breath.

You don’t even look at him. “Move over, then.”

“Can’t. Zayn’s already practically in my lap.”

“Then maybe you should’ve sat at another table.”

“You think I wanted this?”

“You’re both acting like children,” Zayn mutters, not even looking up from his phone.

“This is amazing,” Louis grins, already leaning over to whisper something to Harry.

Harry’s filming a video on his phone. “Just for memories,” he says, aiming it squarely at the two of you. “Our favorite dysfunctional couple.”

“We’re not a couple,” you and Niall snap at the same time.

The boys burst into laughter.

You sink back in your chair, arms crossed, teeth grinding as the opening act takes the stage. You try to focus on the performance, on anything other than the infuriating heat radiating from the person next to you.

You’re going to kill them. All of them.

But mostly Niall.

You try to focus. On the stage. On the music. On literally anything that isn’t Niall’s shoulder bumping into yours every time he shifts, or Louis and Harry whispering like schoolboys and snickering every time they look your way.

And then the inevitable happens.

James Corden, tonight’s host, steps off the stage with a mic in hand and a camera trailing behind him. He’s doing his rounds, working the room like a pro—stopping at tables, cracking jokes, charming the crowd.

And now he’s coming straight toward yours.

“Oh no,” you mutter under your breath.

“Don’t make eye contact,” Niall says, equally miserable.

Too late.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” James calls out, voice booming over the speakers. “One Direction, in the flesh!”

The crowd erupts with cheers.

James reaches your table and immediately pulls Louis into a side hug, claps Harry on the back, and grins at the camera. “Look at these legends. And looking sharp tonight, might I add. Really bringing the style, the class…”

Then his eyes land on you and Niall.

He stops.

He grins.

“Oh—oh, what’s this?” He steps closer, dramatically pointing between you and Niall. “Matching outfits? Coordinated colour scheme? Are we witnessing a soft launch right now?”

The camera zooms in.

Your smile freezes on your face.

Niall sits up a little straighter, jaw flexing as he forces a tight grin.

And of course, the boys don’t miss a beat.

“I told them they looked like a couple tonight,” Louis says loudly, leaning into the mic.

Zayn nods solemnly. “Could’ve sworn they walked in holding hands.”

“I think they matched on purpose,” Harry adds, wide-eyed and innocent. “I heard them talking about it this morning.”

Liam hums thoughtfully. “Very Mr. and Mrs. vibes, yeah?”

You turn to James, still smiling like your life depends on it. “It’s a coincidence.”

“Pure accident,” Niall says through gritted teeth. “Absolutely not intentional.”

James looks at the camera, clearly loving this. “Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure. Two people randomly show up in matching red like it’s not a joint fashion statement.”

“Swear on your lives,” James presses, holding the mic out between you.

You force a laugh. “I’d rather swear on Louis’ love life.”

Louis gasps dramatically. “Uncalled for.”

“I’d rather be dead,” Niall mutters under his breath, but loud enough for the mic to catch it.

The crowd howls.

James throws his head back in laughter. “Alright, alright. No couple confirmation—yet. But I’m keeping an eye on you two. For science.”

He winks, pats Niall’s shoulder, and saunters off to the next table.

The second he’s out of earshot, you drop the smile and glare at the boys.

“You’re all actual demons.”

“Guilty,” Harry beams.

“You’re lucky there were cameras,” Niall says darkly. “Or I’d have walked out.”

Louis raises his glass. “To the happy couple!”

You groan, sinking into your chair.

This night cannot end fast enough.

…

The afterparty is chaos. Hot, loud, crowded. Champagne flows like water, bass thumps through the floor, and the lights strobe in dizzy flashes of gold and pink. Everyone’s celebrating.

Everyone except you.

You’ve been suffocating all night—cornered by questions, compliments laced with assumptions, endless comments about the matching outfits. If one more person says “You and Niall look so good together,” you might actually scream.

You need to breathe.

You push through a packed hallway, past drunk laughter and a couple making out against the wall, and slip through a half-open door near the back of the venue. The room inside is dimly lit and quiet, a storage lounge or private greenroom—blessedly empty.

Or so you think.

You close the door behind you, take a breath—

Then freeze.

Because there he is.

Niall.

Slouched on the small couch, elbows on his knees, tie loosened, shirt untucked. His head lifts the second he hears the door click shut.

Of course.

You stare at him.

He stares right back.

You sigh. “Fucking typical.”

He groans, dragging a hand over his face. “What, are you following me now?”

“Oh, please. I came in here to get away from you.”

“Well, congratulations. We’re trapped.”

“I’m not trapped. You’re trapped.” You spin on your heel to leave—

The door doesn’t budge.

You try again.

Locked.

You jolt the handle, yank it harder. Nothing.

“Are you kidding me?”

Niall’s already on his feet, pacing over. “It sticks sometimes. You have to pull and—” He grabs the handle and gives it a sharp yank. Still locked. “Okay. It’s jammed.”

You step back, arms crossed. “Unbelievable.”

He looks at you, just as annoyed. “I didn’t trap you in here, alright?”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“You think I want to be alone in a room with you?”

You glare. “Trust me, the feeling’s mutual.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh, pacing a few steps away. “Christ. All night you’ve acted like I’ve ruined your life.”

“All night you’ve been ruining my life.”

“Oh come on, you’re pissed because of a tie—”

You cut him off, voice rising. “I’m pissed because this whole night has been a joke! Everyone’s laughing at us like we’re some running gag. You just go along with it, like it’s all funny, like none of it matters.”

He rounds on you. “Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll end up screaming at you in front of cameras!”

“Good!” you shout. “Scream! Lose it! At least then you’d be honest for once!”

You’re chest to chest now, breathing hard, eyes locked in the low light of the room. His jaw is tight. Yours aches from how hard you’re clenching it.

“Every damn time,” he growls. “You get under my skin.”

You shove him—not hard, but enough.

He grabs your wrist. Tight. His voice drops low. Dangerous.

“Don’t.”

You rip your hand back. “Or what?”

Your voice cuts through the quiet like a blade. The air between you is molten, charged with something far beyond anger now—something heavier, darker, crawling beneath your skin and sinking into your blood.

Niall’s eyes burn into yours. His chest rises and falls, too fast, too uneven.

You don’t flinch.

He takes a step forward. You don’t back down.

“You gonna hit me?” you ask, voice low, dangerous.

His jaw flexes. “Wouldn’t waste the energy.”

“Then why are you still here?”

“Why are you?”

You lunge for him before you think it through—shoving him again, harder this time, your hands hitting his chest with a thud. He doesn’t stumble, doesn’t move—just grabs your wrists and shoves you back, pinning you roughly against the wall.

Your breath punches out of you.

“Watch it,” he growls, eyes wild.

You smirk—taunting, reckless. “Make me.”

Something in him snaps.

His mouth crashes into yours, rough and hot and furious. It’s not a kiss—it’s a fight for dominance, teeth clashing, lips bruising, breath stolen. You gasp, fingers fisting into the lapels of his jacket, yanking him closer like you hate him, like you need him.

He groans against your mouth, biting at your bottom lip, grabbing your hip hard enough to bruise. Your back hits the wall again, his hand curling around your jaw to keep you in place.

You reach for his tie.

Yank it.

Hard.

It jerks tight around his throat, dragging him in with a gasp. His hips slam against yours, a sharp growl ripping from his throat.

“Fuck,” he mutters against your mouth, the sound more primal than anything. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

You yank the tie again—harder this time, just to prove you can. His breath catches, eyes going dark, pupils blown wide.

That does it.

He tears away from the kiss with a growl, spinning you around so fast your head spins. His grip is unrelenting as he pulls your arms behind your back and yanks the tie from around his neck.

“Hey—get off—”

“Shut up,” he snarls, twisting your wrists together and wrapping the tie tight. The silk bites into your skin, not gentle, not pretty. The knot is harsh and secure, your arms pinned at your lower back as he pushes you back against the wall again.

“You don’t get to talk,” he snaps, breath hot against your ear. “Not after running your mouth all fucking night.”

You struggle, uselessly. Your breath comes in sharp bursts, body trembling—not from fear, but something else. Something worse. Something filthy.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, even as your thighs clench. “You’re a prick.”

He grabs your jaw, forcing your eyes to his. “You’re soaked through that fucking dress and we both know it.”

Your face burns.

You hate that he’s right.

He drags you away from the wall and forces you down, pushing your shoulders until your knees hit the floor.

You try to resist. You want to resist. But your wrists are bound, your body is already betraying you, and when you feel the floor beneath you, cool and grounding, you realize you’re already too far gone.

You glare up at him from your knees, chest heaving. “You think this proves something?”

He smirks, undoing his belt. “Yeah. That I know how to shut you up.”

You want to fight. You want to spit something vile and cruel and humiliating—but he’s already pulling himself free, already fisting a hand in your hair and tilting your chin up.

And you hate how much you want it.

“You’re not getting away with this,” you mutter, voice cracking.

He taps the head of his cock against your lips. “Open your mouth.”

You don’t.

You hold out, glaring, daring him.

So he presses in harder.

“You gonna make me force you?” he murmurs. “Because I will.”

Your body betrays you again.

You part your lips.

He thrusts in immediately, groaning low in his throat as your mouth stretches around him. His fingers tighten in your hair, holding you in place as he fucks into your mouth with rough, shallow thrusts—testing you. Making you take it.

“God, look at you,” he pants. “Such a fucking mess already. Thought you’d fight harder.”

You glare up at him, tears welling at the corners of your eyes, jaw aching.

He pulls back slightly, letting you breathe. Spit slicks your chin. Your wrists flex behind you, still bound, still useless.

“I hate you,” you rasp.

“I know,” he grins. “But your mouth loves me.”

And when he thrusts in deeper, groaning at the feeling of your throat tightening around him, you can’t deny it.

Your jaw aches. Eyes blur. Saliva drips down your chin as he rocks into your mouth harder, deeper, the wet slap of it echoing through the room.

“You wanted to be smart?” Niall grits out, tightening his grip in your hair. “This is what that mouth gets you.”

You choke as he pushes further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. You try to pull back, to breathe—but you can’t. He’s relentless. Unforgiving. Using you like it’s his right.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growls, watching you from above with that look—like he owns you. “You take it so fucking well when you’re not running that mouth.”

Tears sting your eyes. You can barely breathe. And yet, your thighs are pressed together, soaked, your body desperate for more.

When he finally pulls out, his cock glistening with spit, your lips are swollen, cheeks wet, lungs screaming for air. You pant on your knees, throat sore, wrists still bound behind you.

“You done?” you rasp, broken and breathless but still biting.

He smirks. “Not even close.”

Before you can gather a thought, he grabs you again, lifting you up off the floor like you weigh nothing, and bends you over the nearest table. Your hips hit the edge with a thud, and your bound hands are useless behind your back.

“You gonna be good now?” he mutters, hiking your dress back up over your ass.

You let out a laugh—breathy, ragged. “Go fuck yourself.”

He growls. “No. I’m fucking you.”

And then he thrusts into you—one sharp, brutal stroke that knocks the breath out of your lungs. No teasing. No warning. Just deep, hard, punishing.

You cry out, body jerking forward, barely catching yourself with your elbows.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, the stretch making your vision blur.

“Yeah?” he pants, already fucking into you, fast and raw. “That what you wanted? To be put in your fucking place?”

You moan, incoherent now, eyes fluttering closed as he pounds into you, hips slapping against your ass, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Tied up, on your knees, bent over—such a filthy little thing,” he growls, voice wrecked. “All that attitude, and this is what you needed the whole time.”

You’re already close, your body tightening, trembling with each thrust. But you won’t give him the satisfaction.

You bite your lip and shake your head, breathless. “Not good enough.”

He freezes for half a second.

Then he laughs, low and dangerous.

“Alright then.”

He grabs your bound wrists, yanks them up, and pulls your upper body back against his chest. The angle shifts—deeper, harder, rougher. You cry out, voice raw, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

“You still want to talk shit?” he snarls into your ear. “Or are you gonna come like the brat you are?”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder, mouth open in a silent moan. “F-fuck, Niall—”

“That’s it,” he hisses, thrusts growing frantic. “Come all over my cock, baby. Be a good girl and fucking come.”

You do.

You shatter in his arms, legs giving out as your orgasm tears through you—loud, wet, overwhelming. He fucks you through it, never stopping, chasing his own release with a groan against your neck.

“Fuck—fuck,” he grunts, slamming into you one last time before he spills inside, hot and thick, filling you to the brim.

For a moment, all you can do is collapse against the table, shaking, wrists still tied, breathless and undone.

He stays there, buried deep, forehead pressed to your shoulder.

And then, slowly, he pulls out. The sudden emptiness makes you gasp, your legs still trembling. He doesn’t say anything—just reaches down and slides the tie from your wrists with hands that aren’t nearly as steady as he wants them to be.

You breathe hard, flexing your sore fingers as you turn to look at him over your shoulder.

“We are never talking about this,” you rasp, voice wrecked.

“Agreed,” he mutters, equally breathless.

You both start to pull yourselves together—clothes tugged into place, fingers fumbling, refusing to make eye contact.

And that’s when the door slams open.

“Oh my God—” Harry’s voice practically cracks.

You freeze mid-zip. Niall stops dead, holding the crumpled tie in one hand.

Louis stumbles in behind Harry, already laughing. “I knew it. I fucking knew it!”

Zayn lingers in the doorway, raising a brow. “Well, that explains the tie.”

And then there’s Liam—full-on Daddy Directioner mode, arms crossed, looking like he aged five years in two minutes. “Seriously? You couldn’t just talk about your feelings like normal adults?”

“There are no feelings to talk about,” you mutter, yanking your dress down and avoiding Niall’s eyes entirely.

“Yeah,” Niall adds gruffly, barely meeting anyone’s gaze. “Wasn’t like that.”

Harry raises both hands. “Right. So you just tied her up and fucked her because… healthy communication?”

You clench your jaw. “Can we not do this right now?”

Louis laughs, but it’s quieter this time, less triumphant, more baffled. “I mean, look, I’ve seen some intense hate-fucking tension before, but this…? This was charged. Like, someone could’ve died. Or combusted.”

Zayn leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You both look like you’ve gone twelve rounds in a fight and no one came out a winner.”

“We’re fine,” Niall says tightly. He’s still not looking at you.

“Are you?” Liam asks, the teasing completely gone now. “Because this isn’t just about a one-off hookup. You’ve been snapping at each other for months. You’re in each other’s faces constantly. And now you’re—” He gestures vaguely to the room, the state of both of you, “this.”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You think we’re suddenly different now? That we’re just going to be all… chill and in sync because of this?”

“No one’s saying that,” Louis replies, more gently this time. “But yeah, we joke around, sure—but we’re also worried. You both look wrecked. You need to sort this out before it explodes in a way we can’t fix.”

“I already told you—there’s nothing to sort,” you snap, sharper than you mean to.

Liam sighs, visibly frustrated. “That might work behind closed doors, but it’s not going to fly in front of cameras. You two need to clean this up. Fast.”

“The fans aren’t stupid,” Zayn adds. “One wrong look on stage or in an interview and it’s all over social media. Headlines. The works.”

Harry nods, his tone still quiet but serious. “You know how this goes. If we don’t control the story, someone else will.”

You cross your arms tightly over your chest, every nerve in your body still buzzing. “I know how to handle myself.”

“Then start doing it,” Liam says. Not angry, but tired. Disappointed.

The silence hangs for a beat.

You glance sideways at Niall—just for a second—and find him already looking at you. There’s something in his eyes you can’t name. Frustration. Guilt. Regret. But whatever it is, it only makes your chest tighten.

You look away.

“Whatever,” you mutter. “It happened. It’s done.”

And with that, you push past the boys and storm out of the room, heat crawling up your spine, heart pounding for reasons you don’t dare name.

Behind you, the door creaks shut.

Nobody says a word.

...

Part 2

#niall horan fanfiction #niall horan x you #niall x reader #niall horan x reader #one direction fanfiction #niall horan smut #one direction smut #niall horan x y/n #niall horan enemies to lovers

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siriusleee · 4 months ago

Text

vii. goats

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳WORD COUNT: 1.6K ↳TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on.nc-17. ↳AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, as promised, an update. Not as promised, a timely or long one. ↳TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

You try to keep up with Ghost, but you're still bruised and broken. He loses you easily; it irritates you to think that he had been humoring and allowing you to keep up with him. But you limp behind him, allowing yourself to indulge in curiosity for the first time in a long time. You emerge into the weak sunlight, squinting as your eyes adjust. It seems like everyone from the compound is standing outside, guns and eyes trained on the gate.

They swing open, a heavy truck pulling in slowly. You try to catch a glimpse of them, but it's lightning in your leg to try and stand on your tiptoes.

"That's the advanced guard coming back."

Your heart stutters in your throat as you jump from Doc's words. She's appeared at your elbow, shirt sleeves pushed up around her elbows.

"The advanced guard?"

Doc nods, eyes trained on the crowd.

"When this all first started, the government's main goal was to keep the peace. After that, their goal became reunification of whoever was out there. These guys are still operating under that order."

"So they go out and search for other little pockets of communities? Do they ever find any?"

Doc shakes her head.

"Not any worth sticking with."

She sights, before jerking her head like she's remembered something important. She digs in her pocket, pulling out two more little white pills.

"I tried to find you this morning to give you these. Come by the next few days when you wake up to come grab them."

The pills feel like weights in your hand and all of a sudden your dizzy again by what this place is. Years, fucking years, you'd been half starved in the forest, watching the few people you could cobble together die of starvation and sickness and cold. And here was this place all pristine and perfect and with fucking antibiotics. How many of your group could have been saved if you would have known this was here? How many names would you be able to remember without feeling like there was a kick in the chest.

Doc seems to understand your feeling because as she starts to walk away, she nods at you to follow. You feel the pills break in half beneath the grip you have on them, and you follow, not sure what else to do. Doc waits until the two of you are back in front of the mess hall, farther away from the advanced guard before she starts talking again.

"I'm sure Ghost told you everyone here gets a job; can I ask what you did before this?"

"I was a midwife back when I lived in the United States. When I moved here, I had to work in the front office at a dental office."

Doc hums, eyebrows high.

"A midwife? You can deliver babies?"

"Well it's been a very long time, but yes technically. I'd need the supplies though, and I can't help if the lady needs a C-section."

"Well, we'll find something for you to do here."

"Who's in charge here, by the way? I would have thought whoever was in charge would have wanted to meet me or something."

"We don't have one person in charge exactly. Ghost and Soap were the lead trainers back in the day, and they certainly listen to what I tell them because if they want to be sewn up they have to be nice. We're more like a democracy."

“A democracy cannot exist as a permanent form of government. It can only exist until the voters discover that they can vote themselves largesse from the public treasury," you say, the quote slipping from you without any thought at all. It suprises you that you remember it - that you can remember a morning sitting in your dad’s classroom while he wrote down what he was going to say that day. It rushes over you, and with everything else, nearly takes your knees out from underneath you.

"What's the from?" Doc asks, eyebrows nearly disappearing into her short hair.

"I don't remember - my father was a History teacher. I've got a thousand quotes I remember him saying, but I can't remember what they come from."

You can’t remember much, anymore. You don’t want to - don’t want to think about your parents and if they’re alright. You’ll never find out. Those last days, you’d tried to get a hold of them. Planes had been grounded - they were forced to after multiple crash landed when someone reanimated mid-flight and created terror - and you knew as the news did their best to quell everyone’s terror, that you’d never make it back home. You would never see your parents again, so you’d tried to call them. But the phone had only rang and rang until eventually it didn’t ring at all. And then everything really fell apart, and you had so much blood on your hands before you had to leave home already.

Doc’s face softens as she takes in your silence, her hands buried in her pocket.

"Well - let's get you something to take those pills with."

The goat bleats at you as you push it away with your knee. You recognize the stubbornness in its eye as it thinks about head butting you, but changes its mind as it huffs away to chew at a small patch of grass.

There hadn’t been any jobs that were open, that were needed for a civilian type like you with a still healing leg to do. But Doc had suggested your knowledge of delivering babies could be transferred over to the animals. “How different can it really be?” She’d asked - explaining that she’d only had a few experiences with birth during her training, and they’d lost quite a few of the animals in the past years.

You didn’t mind. The animals didn’t stare at you like you were a freak, an outsider like the rest of the compound. You didn’t feel the need to be on edge around them. The chickens cluck at you, annoyed as you sweep them back towards the coop, their feathers rustling in annoyance with you as you shut the door behind them and flip the lock to keep them in for the night. In the sky, the sun is growing heavy, sinking down lower and lower each minute.

You study the soldiers posted on the edge of the fence; you wonder if any of them ever get the idea to just walk off into the wilderness and see what else is out there. You wonder if they've seen as much of the country as you have in the past few years, if they -

A low whistle breaks you from your thoughts. At the gate, a burly man stands, gun slung across his chest. You can make out the shape of him clearly in the dusk, all sharp angles and worn down edges - a hint of warmth in the darkness. He's the one who's been walking around with Ghost the past week, the man Ghost had been ignoring your for- his grin a start contrast to the furrowed brows Ghost wears everyday.

"Time to switch little Dove."

#my fics #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #zombie au #simon riley zombie au

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