#There was that time she thought my lip was a worm and bit it and jerked it around | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snail-day · 24 days ago

Text

Family Matters

I fear my brain worms have moved onto:

Yan! Choso x Reader x Yan! Yuki

Tw: Yandere Behaviors, Somno, Captivity, Power Imbalance, Mentions of drugging, Stockholm Syndrome, Overstimulation, Creampies, Full nelson, Dubcon/Noncon. MDNI

a/n: This was supposed to be short and sweet. I believe the brain worms munched a little too hard :)

You’d like to think Choso never meant for this all to happen. That the whole situation was due to his own desire to start a family. That if it were up to him, you’d be somewhere far from here, curled up with a book and not wrapped between his arms while he whispers sweet apologies into your skin.

However, Yuki did all the dirty work and brought you here. Who decided you were perfect for them. Choso wanted a family, and she didn't want to give up her freedom. You'd give her that. Though kidnapping doesn't seem like the best solution to that problem, but maybe you were just a bit more sane. Who knows.

Yuki’s always been a hunter. A visionary. She wouldn’t go for someone stronger; no, she chose you precisely because you weren’t. Soft and pliant, someone who reminded her of a rabbit caught between wolves. And now you’re here. While it took a while to get Choso on board, he eventually had to give in.

He never imagined himself sharing. Always thought he'd be monogamous. But when his lover comes home cradling you like a prize, whispering about how sweet you’d be (once tamed), how you'd look tucked into their bed? How could he say no?

Especially when you’re so cute when you cry. When you're sleepy from all the drugs she put into your system, not clawing or screaming every time he tries to hold you. Dragging you out from under the bed by your ankles so he can cradle you and stroke your hair nestled in the various blankets. Because when you're quiet, well, he can pretend. Pretend you want this, too.

It’s Choso who cherishes the naps. Who likes the way your weight sinks against him, your breathing slow and warm on his chest. Yuki’s always moving, training, exploring, and hunting down her next thrill. But Choso? He’s a sleepy homebody. He’s selfish when it comes to cuddling. You’ll try to wriggle away, always so defiant, but eventually you give in. Huffing and puffing as he releases a sigh, breathes in the scent of you as you melt into his arms, quiet for once. Humming against your temple, gentle fingers stroking through your hair, tender lips pressing gentle kisses to your forehead. You sometimes wonder if he wishes Yuki were a bit softer. Less adventurous. Maybe then he wouldn't be so devoted to clinging onto you.

But you realize you don't know much about him as he doesn't understand much about you. Perhaps it's the curse in him, but he doesn't exactly understand why you cry so much. You're being loved. Taken care of. What more could you possibly want? How much of the world does he have to give you?

It’s only when you’re tired that you stop trying to claw your way free. When you’re drowsy, limp, vulnerable that Choso can’t help but admire you. That peaceful little face… it makes something ache inside of him. Ache and throb. Precum stains his pants, his cock pressed hard against your thigh, and before he knows it, his hand is slipping under the silk nightgown Yuki dressed you in before she left this morning. No panties. House rule reserved only for you.

Two chubby, thick fingers trace lazy circles over your clit. You're still half-asleep, but your hips betray you, grinding gently into his touch with a breathy whimper. One that he hushes with soft coos into your hair, as he reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He's too needy for proper prep, but not a monster. He won't split you open dry, no matter how desperate he is.

Gently coating his cock in the slick gel, groaning at the sensation, then smears the rest over your folds, working two fat fingers into you with care. Stretching you open, watching the furrow of your brows. The way your hips grind into his palm. That's when he knows you're ready to be his sweet girl.

Moving to shift you into a full nelson, your legs spread wide, needy cunt on fully display to the cruel, cool air, his toned arms wrapped tightly beneath your knees to hold you open. His body shakes as he lines himself up, the flushed purple head of his cock nestled against your soaked entrance. And when he finally pushes in - inch by slow, shuddering inch - his breath stutters in your ear.

" I'm sorry,” he whispers, voice cracked and barely holding together. “I just - I need you. I need you so bad. Love you too much. You understand, don’t you?”

You don't. But who are you to think when you're being split apart with each and every inch.

His trembling, soft lips brush your temple, then anywhere they can reach, almost frantic like he’s trying to kiss you into forgiveness. His cock twitches inside you, buried deep, stretching you around every vein, every pulsing inch of him as his hips start to roll in slow, desperate grinds upward.

It’s overwhelming when every movement seems to be thick and needy, every stroke a whimper he can’t quite bite back. You can feel the tears welling in his thick dark lashes as he mumbles, “Feels so good - feels too good - I’m sorry, I’m sorry - ”

And that’s when Yuki walks in.

“Aw, baby,” she sighs, lips pursed into a faux pout as she drops her bag and saunters over. “You said you were too tired to play.” She teases, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Kneels between your trembling thighs, fingers curling around Choso’s thigh to still his movements.

“Let me taste.”

She leans in, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his cock to the swollen bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. Thin pink tongue all hot and wet, sinful even, and your entire body trembles. You mewl into Choso’s shoulder, but Yuki only hums in approval.

“None of that. Let mommy make you feel good, okay?”

God, she does. Takes her time savoring you, swirling her tongue, teasing both of you until Choso’s thighs are shaking and your slick drips down onto the sheets in glistening trails. Every drag of her tongue across his base has Choso twitching inside you, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

Eventually, perhaps mercifully, she relents. “Go ahead,” she breathes, voice honeyed and cruel. “Stuff her full.” Moving her soft hand to stroke lovingly through his dark hair as he fucks you slow and deep, whispering praise between gasps. Yuki draws lazy circles against your clit with two fingers, tracing their names into your overstimulated nerves until you’re gushing into her palm.

“Such a good girl,” she murmurs, leaning up to kiss you gently. “See? We take such good care of you. You’re going to let Choso fill you up now, right?”

You nod, dazed, teary-eyed, far too dumb with pleasure to form a single coherent thought. All that spills from your lips are soft, slurred thank yous, babbled between gasps every time she pushes you into another climax. Each twitch of your body, every flutter of your walls around Choso’s cock, sends him closer, until he's almost sobbing, the warm tears finding home at the dip of your shoulder.

It only takes a few of those pretty little squeezes, and then he’s bursting with a low, choked groan. His cock throbs inside you as he cums, hot, thick ropes filling your cunt, the warmth blooming deep, pressing tight against your insides like he’s trying to make a home in you. He stays buried there, panting into your hair, as Yuki leans in again, slender fingers catching the spill of cum that threatens to escape with obscene care.

“I think we’d make a really happy family,” she purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen, puffy cunt. “Don’t worry. Mommy will pay all the bills. Choso wants at least ten kids. You can do that, can’t you, sugar?”

You don’t answer. How could you, with exhaustion taking over? Your lashes flutter closed, brain turned to syrup from the overwhelming heat. Rebelling tomorrow seems like a better idea. Your head lolls to the side in a barely-there nod, and that seems to please her, or maybe it’s the taste, your juices tangled with Choso’s musk as she slurps her fingers clean, tongue dragging with a playful hum.

A part of you would’ve shivered. Maybe even cried. But then there’s pathetic little Choso, pressing his face into the curve of your neck, breath shaky, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured in a soft, cracked whimper. As if the words have any meaning because he still doesn't pull out. You wonder if he even understands the word for someone who says it so much.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere #choso x reader #yuki x reader #yandere choso x reader #yandere yuki x reader #yandere choso x reader x yuki #yandere choso kamo #yandere yuki tsukumo #choso x reader x yuki #yandere yuki #yandere choso kamo x reader #yandere yuki tsukumo x reader

597 notes · View notes

sena-seastar · 9 months ago

Text

Mine all mine

Aemond x Wife reader

Summary: Yours and Aemond's child refuses to let you sleep.

A/N: This is a short fluff piece I wrote two years ago after season one ended. I just thought I would post it now.

“Hush now, little one, I’ve-” you yawn, trying to blink the sleep away from your eyes. “I’ve got you.” You tiredly cooed as you picked up the writhing baby from her cradle for the fourth time.

“She’s quite restless tonight,” your husband groaned from your shared bed.

You patted the baby on the back to soothe the sniffling girl, humming in agreement. Then, you placed the back of your hand against her clammy forehead.

“She’s quite warm; perhaps we should send for a maester?”

You watched as Aemond sat up. He instinctively reached for the black leather eyepatch to conceal his sapphire eye before stopping himself. It had taken him almost a year after the two of you wed before he felt comfortable enough to let you see him without it. But even now, a couple of years later, insecurity still managed to worm its way under his skin.

His long hair started falling out of the simple braid you had put it in before bed. The child gurgled and squirmed with excitement when he walked to your side.

A wide grin stretched across his face as your daughter squealed with delight as he took her into his arms.

“How is my little one feeling? Mother thinks you're unwell,” he scrunched his face, making the baby giggle.

“I’m serious, Aemond. You know what the maester said. If she gets another fever, we should take her to him.”

“She’s a little warm, my love. Most likely from that thick blanket, you insisted on wrapping her in.” He chided, lazily gesturing towards the cradle.

“She was cold,” you mumble, realizing that perhaps the man was right. Not that you were willing to admit that to him.

Your little family made your way back to the large bed in the middle of the room. The sky was beginning to lighten, though the sun had yet to appear. The loud chirping of birds could be heard, along with the servants who had awoken to start their daily duties before the nobles awoke. You climbed back into bed and pulled the covers over your body to fight off the morning chill. Aemond rested his back against the pillows, sitting your child on his lap.

You watched with a smile as Daenys toyed with her father’s fingers. She quickly lowered her face and bit down. The man pulled it back with an exaggerated hiss. The little girl froze, her eyes widened, and her mouth hung open in shock. However, her mood swiftly changed as she giggled at her father’s pained expression. She grinned widely, exposing the two front teeth that had recently sprouted from her gums.

“Carefully, husband, or you may lose a finger,” you tease.

The man shot you a playful glare before lecturing the child on biting. However, it only seemed to make the child giggle even more.

“Now, Daenys, what have we said about the biting? You do not bite kepa. Save that for your uncle.”

You rolled your eyes at his childishness.

“Do you want me to take her?” You asked. “There’s no use in both of us being exhausted.”

“No, you get some rest,” he replied absent-mindedly.

Aemond kept his gaze on your little girl. A giddy smile sat on his lips as Daenys crawled up his chest. He took hold of one of her chubby little hands, holding it to his mouth, pretending to eat it. She squealed, pulling it away before holding it out for him to take again.

You smiled and rested your head on the soft feather pillow beneath you, watching as the two people most dear to your heart played together. It was such a heartwarming sight. You fought to keep your eyes open, but sleep had won.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond #prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #house of the dragon #house targaryen #fire and blood #hotd #girldad!aemond #dad!aemond #blurb

2K notes · View notes

bjlipss · 6 days ago

Text

— 00:11, worms, dreams, and other emergencies;

your daughter asks wild, hilarious questions neither you nor nanami can answer—until she asks the one that matters most.

1. “how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

the morning is barely happening. the sun hasn’t even fully made up its mind about rising. you’re in the kitchen, groggy and squinting at the cereal box like it personally wronged you. nanami’s walking in from the shower, towel around his neck, and your daughter is already up—too awake—swinging her legs at the kitchen table, biting into toast like she’s lived three lives.

then she says it.

“how do i know my dreams aren’t the real world and this is the dream?”

you stop mid-pour, nearly drowning your cereal.

“what?” you croak.

“like—when i’m asleep, everything’s weird, but also it feels real. and maybe when i’m awake, this is the fake part, and i’m actually sleeping in the dream world.”

nanami stops in the doorway. “it’s too early for existential dread.”

she blinks innocently. “what’s dread?”

“something you feel when you realize your five-year-old might be more philosophical than you,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair, but she doesn’t catch it.

“huh?”

“nothing,” you both say at the same time, glancing at each other.

she purses her lips in confusion, much like her father does when he is deep in thought.

you set the cereal down slowly. “sweetie, dreams are like… brain movies. they’re fun, or strange, but they’re not real. this is the real world.”

“but how do you know?” she says, wide-eyed. “what if you’re in my dream right now?”

“i—” you start, then shut your mouth.

she leans in, whispering: “what if i made you both up?”

nanami sits down, rubbing his temples. “this is worse than the time she asked if the moon had feelings.”

she shrugs and goes back to munching her toast as if nothing happened.

“if i wake up and you disappear,” she adds between bites, “i’ll miss you.”

you stare at her, deeply unsettled, while nanami wordlessly pushes the coffee toward you like a peace offering.

2. “do worms know they’re worms?”

it’s early spring, the kind where everything still smells a little like mud and thawing grass.

the three of you are walking home from a nearby café, your daughter holding both your and nanami’s hands, swinging her legs with each step. puddles glitter on the pavement, and the clouds look like someone wrung out the sky.

she suddenly stops, tugging your hand. “look!! worm!!”

she crouches dramatically on the path, face inches away from a wriggling earthworm.

“sweetheart,” nanami says, tone wary, “don’t put your face that close to—”

“shhh,” she hisses, waving a tiny hand. “i’m listening.”

“to the worm?” you ask, pausing beside her.

she nods solemnly. “he’s on a mission.”

you squat down beside her. the worm is, in fact, just trying to not die. “what kind of mission?”

“i think he’s going to his worm job. maybe he’s late.” she tilts her head. “do you think worms know they’re worms?”

you blink. “um… what?”

“do they know? do they wake up and think, ‘i’m a worm and i have worm things to do today’?” she glances up at you, completely serious.

“i don’t… think they wake up,” you say slowly. “they don’t really sleep like we do. or have—alarm clocks.”

“but maybe he has a worm watch,” she whispers.

nanami, still standing with his hands in his coat pockets, sighs. “then we’re probably interrupting his commute.”

she gasps, scandalized. “we have to help him get home!” she starts scooping up the worm with a stick, incredibly gentle for someone who once bit a crayon in half out of rage.

so the three of you spend ten minutes hunched over wet pavement, relocating a single worm into the safety of the grass like it’s a royal procession. at one point, nanami mutters something about “early retirement” and “this is not how i pictured fatherhood,” but he’s crouched beside you, doing it anyway.

an older couple passes by, gives you a look.

you pretend not to see it.

your daughter waves at the worm. “good luck at your job!”

3. “if i can’t see my brain, how do i know it’s there?”

it’s bedtime, and your daughter is nestled under the covers, her favorite stuffed animal tucked under her arm. the room is quiet, the only light coming from the soft glow of the nightlight you’ve had to replace twice now because it always ends up in her bed somehow. she snuggles into the pillows, a slight frown tugging at her lips as she stares up at the ceiling.

“if i can’t see my brain,” she asks, her voice unusually serious for such a late hour, “how do i know it’s there?”

you pause mid-yawn, your eyes blinking as you try to come up with a way to answer. nanami glances at you, but he looks just as stumped.

“well,” you begin, “your brain is inside your head. it controls everything you do.”

“but i can’t see it,” she insists, her little voice quiet but firm. “so how do i know it’s really there? what if it’s just pretending?”

you look over at nanami, who seems to be thinking just as hard. this is no ordinary five-year-old. you feel like you’re about to enter into an existential debate with a toddler.

“um…” nanami sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “it’s like… trust. you can’t see the air, but you know it’s there because you breathe it.”

she stares at him, processing the comparison for a moment. “so… i can’t see the air either, but i know it’s in my lungs?”

“yes,” you say, nodding vigorously as though you’ve figured it out. “exactly. and your brain is the same way.”

she thinks about this, her little face scrunching up as she turns it over in her mind. then, without warning, she turns to you with a completely different thought.

“but what if my brain is just hiding?” she asks, her voice dripping with suspicion, as though your brain is the biggest trickster in the world, sneaking around behind her back.

you and nanami look at each other, unsure if you should be worried or impressed with how deeply she’s thought about this.

+ 1. “will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?”

it’s a quiet night. the house is calm, and the only sound in the air is the soft ticking of the clock and the low hum of the refrigerator in the background. your daughter has crawled into your lap, her hair soft and smelling faintly of lavender shampoo, her favorite scent. she curls up there as if nothing in the world matters more than the security of this moment.

you’re about to speak when she lifts her head from your chest and looks up at you both, her little face uncharacteristically serious.

“will you love me when i’m older, like a grown-up?” she asks, her voice soft but full of an emotion you hadn’t expected.

there’s a weight to her question that catches you off guard. nanami pauses, his hand stilling in her hair as he looks down at her, then at you.

you both know that this is one of those questions that goes beyond the usual curiosity. it’s the first sign of a child thinking about the future, about change, about the passage of time.

you swallow thickly, your heart tightening at the thought of her growing up. you lean down and kiss the top of her head, your voice gentle but firm.

“we will always love you,” you say, the words feeling more important than they ever have before. “no matter how old you get. even when you’re grown-up.”

“even when i’m a really old grown-up?” she asks, her voice filled with that same curiosity, the kind that comes from wanting reassurance.

“especially then.” nanami says, his tone unusually soft as he brushes her hair from her face, his voice a low promise.

“you’ll always be our little girl, baby.” you add, your heart full as you wrap your arms around her a little tighter.

she smiles then, a small, peaceful smile, before she snuggles into your arms, content for the night. no more questions. no more worries.

for now, the world is perfect.

278 notes · View notes

hannibals-favourite-meal · 8 months ago

Text

.⋆｡Take Care of Her for Me｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader x Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

Simon is a bad man. He’s rough and dark and his little bird is far too good for him, that’s why he gives Johnny her first

Warnings: virgin!reader, threesome, bit of soap x ghost, SMUT, size kink, voyeurism, grinding, literally ‘just the tip’, use of y/n, tiny bit of Simon being insecure, reader and Simon live together, drinking, some guilt, loss of virginity, birth control mention, m masturbation, unprotected sex, possibility for whole 141 fun WC: 5.2k

Minors DNI

A/N: I know it's my birthday but I hope you guys enjoy this gift for you!

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“Oh.” The word escaped her swollen lips involuntarily and Simon bit back the urge to wince. Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates, her hands trembling as she sat back on her heels. “I didn’t…” She trailed off.

Simon cupped her full cheek, guiding her gaze back up to him. “I told you I wasn’t exactly small. We don’t have to, not if you aren’t ready.” She nodded absentmindedly then seemed to catch herself and shook her head.

“No, no I’m ready. It’s just- you’re so big, I don’t think you’ll fit.” Her head tilted cutely as she nuzzled into his naked palm, soaking up all the skin he let her feel. Her delicate hands moved away from the band of his black sweatpants and instead clung to his meaty thighs. His cock throbbed where it lay on his stomach, the tip already leaking just from his sweet little bird pulling him out.

Her thick body fit perfectly between his legs, her shoulders holding his knees apart as she knelt on the floor in front of their plush couch. Her sleep shirt had already been shed, leaving her in just a bra and panties that had Simon’s mind going fuzzy with arousal. “You’ve barely fit two fingers in me,” she muttered wistfully, her thick lashes fluttering, “this is.. a lot. But I wanna try, for you.”

Simon’s hold suddenly turned firm as an image of her sprawled out on their bed, whimpering and whining, tears rolling down her cheeks as he back arched desperately all while he forced himself into her tight cunt. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep a level head. “No birdie, not for me. This is all about you.” He released her cheek in favour of leaning forwards and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his lap.

He shuddered as her soft backside rubbed against his cock so he quickly readjusted his hips to tug his sweats back on properly. She watched him with a pout which he kissed away. “Can we at least try tonight? You already ate me out before dinner and played with me during the movie. Maybe I can suck you off? I might be able to fit you in my mouth.”

“Are you tryin ta fucking kill me?” He groaned, his self-control beginning to wane.

She snuggled into his chest, her nails gently trailed down his front as she shrugged. “Want to make you feel good too, even if you can’t quite fuck me yet.” Simon sighed.

He knew how eager she was for him, her fuck-me eyes were almost constant whenever he was home from deployment. If it were any other circumstance, he would bully his cock into her perfect cunt without another thought but his birdie was a virgin and he had made a promise to himself a long time ago that he would never cause her pain in any way. Simon was not a good man but for her, he wanted to be better.

“Alright, we can try something.” Her yelp made him smirk as he stood up abruptly, keeping her firmly in his arms.

“Simon!” Her arms flew around his neck, bouncing with each step he took up the stairs.

Her laughs quickly turned into moans as he dropped her on the king size bed, his weight keeping her whole body pinned to the duvet, his lips descending on her neck. “Fuck Si.” This time, it was her legs that parted, allowing his body to slip between them. She could feel the warmth of his cock even through their clothes, throbbing and hot with the promise of what the apex of her thighs contained.

His hand wormed its way between their bodies, thick fingers thrummed against her mound. This was normal, expected, the roughness and desperation of his touch a welcome salve to her overheated skin. A brief distraction from just how fucking horny he made her. He plucked at the band of her panties as his lips collided with hers. Their teeth clacked together with the force of his kiss, the muscles along his spine rippling beneath her fingers like he were a wolf, ready to take down his prey.

The fist planted by her head curled into the pillow as she nipped at his bottom lip all while her hips rolled into his hand, begging him to keep going, to finally give in to what he had been dangling in front of her for months. “Please,” she whined, nails digging into his back, “please I need more.”

Electricity shot through her as his hips jerked forwards, his hard cock bumping against her neglected clit. “Fuck.” He growled, pulling back just enough to shuck the rest of their clothes off before he was right back on top of her, now nothing between them.

His cock early nestled against her folds, sliding up and down with every small movement he made. “Just the tip birdie, ‘m gonna give you just the tip.” But his promise rang hollow, his voice already dropped low and coated with his darkest desires.

One of her legs wrapped around his thigh as he slowly pulled back, positioning his uncut head at her entrance. “Just the tip.” He spoke almost to himself and gently pressed forwards.

Y/N threw her head back, her mouth dropping open. A breath escaped her and Simon groaned. She was far tighter than he could have ever imagined, even with his head barely halfway in. Her leg squeezed around him as her back lifted from the bed. All Simon wanted to do was to keep going, force himself into her like he craved but he grabbed onto the frayed edges of his mind with the last of his restraint.

Just as the tip finally, finally breached her warmth, she found her words. “Too much, too much.” Suddenly her nails in his back, her face pressing into the pillow, her tensed legs were not her mounting desire but all blaring sirens that sent a shot of panic down his spine.

A single tear rolled down her cheek before he came back into himself with a jolt. “Fuck, fuck.” He grabbed her thigh with a deathly grip, keeping her still as he dragged his hips back and regretfully left the heaven he had almost found. Her body relaxed into the bed spread as soon as she was empty again, her hold on his back waning but her touch remained on his tattooed skin.

“Stay there.” Her whine of protest made his stomach drop but Simon still stood from the bed and made a b-line to the bathroom. He kept his eyes down, avoiding his own reflection as best he could while wetting one of the washcloths from the shelf next to the sink. He already knew exactly what he would see if he looked up and right now, he could pretend that monstrous reflection wasn’t him because she needed Simon, not Ghost.

By the time he slipped back into the room, she was already beneath the covers, the bedside lamp had been turned on, warding off the encroaching darkness. Her smile was hazy and small but it was genuine and Simon breathed a sigh of relief. She lifted the blanket for him to slip in beside her, an invitation he didn’t think he could ever refuse.

The smell of sweat and laundry detergent and something that was uniquely her enveloped him as he curled his massive body around her soft one, cradling her to his chest all while he wiped away the soreness from her. Her head fell to the crook of his neck, brushing her nose against his pulse.

The washcloth landed in the hamper with a dull plop, sparking a small giggle from the woman before it was muffled as Simon pulled them both down onto their backs.

“I’m sorry I scared you Si.”

“Can never scare me love, yer just a little puppy.” She lavished him with a glare but still sagged down onto his chest, letting out a little sigh.

“‘M scary.” Simon just scoffed and kissed the top of her head as he clicked off the lamp.

“Very scary.”

——————

The pub was mostly empty by now, leaving only the five of them in a booth in the back and a couple stragglers by the bar. Y/N was wedged between Simon and Gaz, drunkenly giggling at a story she’s heard ten times before though Simon figured she was laughing at Johnny rather than with him, his accent almost too thick to even understand at this point. Price had just sat back down, delivering the last round of drinks for the night onto the sticky table.

“And then the nun fell off the bike.” John finished the story for him with a roll of his eyes. “Are you ever going to come up with anything new?”

“My stories are great! Birdie thinks so, she laughs at them every time!” Johnny’s arm swung across the table, almost knocking over Gaz’s pint.

“Steady on Soap.” He warned, making Y/N giggle again, undermining the Scot’s point entirely.

Simon hooked a broad arm over her shoulder, tugging her closer to his as he glowered at the younger man. “You don’t get to call her Birdie. ’Specially not after you destroyed the front lawn trying to show off on MY motorbike.” But Johnny just scoffed and sipped at his beer, shooting a wink in the woman’s direction.

“I think I did ya a favour, those peonies were atrocious. Weren’t they lassie?” She turned her face into Simon’s arm in some vain attempt to keep back the heat that rose to her cheeks at the sudden attention from Johnny. Her fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket in a much too similar manner to how she would cling to him when Simon decided to torture her with his lips and words.

His right eye twitched imperceptibly.

“‘Sides they came with the house didn’t they? Ya needed a remodel.” Price snorted into his whiskey but it was Y/N who spoke up.

“I liked those flowers, they were the most ugly shade of orange.” Johnny’s smirk turned into something softer, something sappy and wholly foreign on the young soldier. His blue eyes, though dark with his drunkenness, sparkled under the dim lighting of the bar. Simon knew that look because it was the same one he held everyday since she had stumbled into his life and his heart. But where he expected jealousy, rage, at his lieutenant for even daring to look at his birdie like that, all he felt was a bubbling warmth deep in his stomach.

Gaz slipped from the booth, muttering something under his breath about a smoke, Price following quickly behind him, shooting a look at Simon before they disappeared through the front door. Without missing a beat, Johnny slithered his way into the now vacant seat beside Y/N, propping himself up far closer than would be considered friendly.

“Then how ‘bout I come over and plant ya some new ones.” Simon was sitting so close to her, he could feel the way her plush thighs clenched together as her breath hitched. “How bout it hen?” He purred, the alcohol on his breath strong but it was nothing compared to the weight of his gaze as it slowly trailed down her form, then turned to Simon.

“Think you’ve had enough MacTavish.” Simon growled, suddenly breaking Johnny from his trance. The man reared back like he had been burnt, ripping himself from the booth with a stumble. His eyes were wide with panic, his voice and hands shaky.

“Sorry hen, think L.T.’s right, I should probably get home. G’night.” He was out the door before either of them could think to protest, even living behind his beloved leather jacket on the seat.

Simon tucked Y/N closer to his side, laying a kiss on her head. “I’ll call us a cab.”

By the time the taxi had dropped them home, Simon and Y/N had almost completely sobered up though they were each still buzzing from the night. He had been quiet the entire ride, his eyes pensive and thoughtful but as soon as the cab vanished down the dark driveway, something inside him snapped. A strong arm was wrapped firmly around her thick waist, keeping her upright as he kissed along her exposed neck, the black medical mask he had been wearing for the night hanging over just one of his ears. Her keys rattled against the lock, quickly getting lost to the feeling of his lips on that one particular spot that made her body go fuzzy.

“Si, you’re making this really hard for me.” He grunted against her skin and pushed his hips into her soft ass.

“And you’re makin’ me hard, seems fair to me.” She finally got the key in the lock just as he grabbed at the front of her jeans, his thick fingers going for the button. The door slammed against the wall but neither of them cared about a potential hole in the drywall at that moment.

Simon grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her with so much force that she had to hold onto his forearms to keep from tumbling over backwards. They stumbled blindly to the couch, their lips firmly locked together all while Simon lifted her into his lap. Her thighs bracketed him as she buried her fingers into his cropped blond hair.

“What’s gotten into you?” She gasped, pulling back just enough to fill her lungs before diving back into his embrace.

His hips bucked up into her as a hiss of words forced themselves from him. “Had a thought at the bar.”

“Hmm?” This time, it was her lips on his throat, distracting the normally stoic man. He gripped at her ass for some semblance of control which was quickly slipping away.

“Johnny should have your first time.” All of her movements ceased. “You like him.”

“Si-“ She tried to pull herself from his arms, her cheeks heating with her shame. She couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“No. You do, it’s ok. I like em too, you aren’t special.” He teased, running his thumb along the apple of her cheek. Her breath caught. “He likes you, more than a little bit.” She shook her head firmly but Simon knew that she was thinking about it.

“You’re my boyfriend, not Soap. I want you.” His lopsided smile almost distracted her enough to kiss him again.

“I’m not gentle, not in the way you need for your first time and we both know that I’m too much for you to take. So-“

“You want me to fuck your best friend.”She finished for him. There was a beat of silence and then she pulled herself from his lap. “I don’t know about this.”

Simon stayed seated where he was but sat up fully, watching her every step as she paced around their living room. “I’ll be there too, not letting that mutt be alone with you so he can try to steal you away.”

“Yet you’ll let him sleep with me.” His smile grew. Y/N shut her eyes and took a deep breath before a smile of her own began to bloom. “Ok, but I want you to fuck me right after.”

“That, Birdie, I can do.” With one swift movement, he yanked her back down to his lap and kissed her before he could run off and get Johnny to come over right that second.

——————

Simon had been out of the house all day and for that, Y/N was grateful. She knew he was going to talk to Johnny today and knowing her boyfriend, that meant that tonight, she would be popping her cherry. He left with a tender albeit lust-filled kiss when he got up in the morning and a whispered promise that she should ‘get some rest’.

So she’d taken the day for herself; a long, luxurious bath in their massive tub, complete with shaving practically every inch of her body, then a nice coffee and breakfast and by lunchtime, she was deep in a book of poetry Gaz had recommended. The text arrived right when she had gotten up to make herself a cup of tea.

We’ll be home by 7.

A shiver of fear and excitement rolled up her back. This was it, after a year of taking it slow, all the angst of being with a man who was considered to be dead to everyone save for only those closest to him, and the anxiety of a multitude of ‘firsts’, finally they could take the next step. Even if they needed a bit of help.

And she certainly wasn’t opposed to the man helping her. Johnny was sweet and goofy in the best ways possible. Where Simon had been a solid wall of scars and fear, Johnny was a book that fell open the moment Simon had finally introduced them. He was easy to be around and Y/N couldn’t deny that she had gotten a small crush on the man when he tripped over himself to order her the most atrocious sounding cocktail just to get a smile out of her while she was having a terrible day. She also saw the way he made her Simon relax even through the thick shield of his mask.

She eyed the side table by the bed where she kept all her private toys but quickly dismissed that idea. Instead she wandered down the hall, intent on pouring herself a drink just to take the edge off. She could only imagine what would walk through that door.

“This punishment for flirting with your bird, Ghost?” Soap was doubled over, struggling to catch his breath with the full kit he donned plus the training dummy he had been forced to carry on his back. Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, remaining silent where he stood at the side of the field. “Look, had one too many. Can ya blame me for getting friendly with a pretty lass?” The sun was high in the sky, the temperature rising steadily but still, he had made his sergeant run laps while the newer recruits were posted with Price for the day.

The pack and dummy slid off his back, landing on the running track with a thud. “Alright, what’s really gone on? This is bigger than what happened the other night.” Ghost’s shoulders dropped as his chest heaved with a deep breath. He nodded towards the benches which Soap gladly collapsed onto.

Silence descended on the two men as each sat with their thoughts. Johnny knew that Ghost would talk when he was ready, and he could only hope that he wouldn’t be murdered for finding his best friend’s girlfriend absolutely gorgeous.

“I want ya to fuck her.” Johnny’s neck popped with the force at which he snapped his head over to Ghost who was already looking at him.

The rumble of a car’s engine sounded above the din of soft jazz from the speakers. Yet the house remained still, tensed for what was to come. The car door opened then slammed shut. Simon.

The second door was much more cautious, barely making any noise when it closed, even the crickets hiding in the long grass along the drive were louder than his footsteps on the gravel. Johnny.

Y/N smiled to herself and tugged at the silky nightgown she saved for special occasions. Already, she was trembling with excitement, arousal dripping onto her bare thighs (she thought it better to forgo panties entirely rather than have another obstacle in the way).

“Birdie?” Simon’s voice was thick with his lust. Her fingers curled into the dress’s hem as she called back.

“‘M in the bedroom.” She hoped they heard her tone was sexy rather than the desperate whine it came out as. She readjusted herself so she sat up on her knees in the centre of the bed, a position she knew made Simon short circuit every time. There was a muffled conversation from downstairs then, the stairs creaked with the weight of both men. Y/N swallowed thickly as the footsteps paused right outside the door.

“Ghost-“

“No, hear me out. She’s-“ He scrubs a hand over his cheek, pushing his mask out of place. Johnny stays quiet. “She’s a virgin and I’m- we’ve tried but no matter what we try, it’ll just hurt her. I know how ya look at her. I know how she-“ There was a hidden ‘I’ in there as well, “looks at you. We both want this, we both want your help.” Soap folded over himself, his head falling into his hands.

“Christ Ghost.”

Simon groaned as soon as he saw her, his brown eyes almost rolling back into his skull. “You damn minx.” She half-expected him to jolt forward and sweep her into a kiss but instead, he stepped to the side, revealing a nervous Johnny who was still standing at the top of the stairs.

“Johnny.” She smiled at him.

“Hi hen.” He took a tentative step forwards, blue eyes flicking from her to his superior, then back to her. Simon pulled the black balaclava off his head and tossed it onto the plush chair in the corner of the room. Johnny took a steadying breath before his knees brushed the side of the bed. He glanced at the larger man one more time and then he finally reached out, cupping her jaw more gently than either of them thought him capable of.

“God yer gorgeous.” Heat crawled up her neck as another drip of wetness rolled down her thigh.

“And she’s ok with this?”

“More than you know.”

“And you?” Johnny flicked at the lighter in his hand, a nervous habit he could never quite break. Ghost eased himself back against the wall behind them, letting his eyes flutter shut.

“You know the answer to that already.”

Their first kiss was gentle, tender in a way that made her insides ache. Johnny’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to Simon’s but a welcome change nonetheless less. Y/N took his free hand into hers as she slid her fingers of her right into one of his belt loops. He made a desperate noise against her lips.

“I’ll be gentle.” He whispered, his thumb brushing the soft skin of her face.

“I know.” The next kiss was more heated but just as caring. His touch travelled down from her face to the small of her back, the rough tips of his fingers tracing the length of her body before gently laying her down. Her nightgown slipped up her thighs as Johnny climbed between them.

The mattress by her head dipped making Y/N open her eyes. Simon sat half on the bed, his shirt already off. “Ya want Johnny ta take care of ya?” The smell of his cologne and Johnny’s sweat made her head spin. Simon tsked. “Words birdie.”

“Want him bad Si.” Johnny moaned into her neck as she ground her hips upwards, catching the bulge of his cock against her mound. He grabbed at her waist, encouraging her movement. Simon chuckled and reached between them, tugging the silky dress up and off.

Johnny’s eyes went wide. “Ya didn’t tell me just how pretty she was naked.” He cupped one of her tits, as if testing its weight in his palm.

“I thought it should be a surprise. But you’ve imagined her like this before, haven't you MacTavish?” Instead of answering, Johnny buried his face between her tits, occupying his lips with memorising the taste of her skin. Y/N clutched at his back, her giggles interchanging with her moans.

“Be nice Si.” She gasped as he took one of her nipples into his mouth

Simon just scoffed and leaned over, placing a kiss to her forehead before he stood up but not without a squeeze to Johnny’s shoulder. “You stop the moment she says.” He warned, earning an eye-roll from the sergeant.

“She’s in charge.” He confirmed before returning his attention back to the set of perfect tits laid out before him, this time he leaned his weight onto his right hand as his left brushed against where the ache he caused her continued to grow. He brushed her cunt with the tips of his fingers, gathering as much wetness as he could. “Shit, this really all for me?”

She bashfully turned her head into the pillow. “Don’t tease me Johnny.” So he didn’t. He caught her thrumming clit with his thumb as he eased his middle finger into her tightness. In and out, in and out, curl, in and out.

Her whine was muffled by Simon’s groan from the other side of the room. She forced her gaze to him, only to be met with the sight of her huge boyfriend spread eagle in the chair facing the bed, his pants undone, huge cock in his hand. Already his face and chest were ruddy with a deep blush, his huge thighs tensing and intending with each upward stroke of his hand.

Johnny’s teeth sunk into the fat of her breast, distracting her from the stretch as he added a second and then a third finger. Y/N’s back arched from the bed. “Johnny-“

“Jus relax for me hen, let me make ya feel good.” His lips latched onto her throat, somehow finding that one spot that made her legs tremble. She grabbed at his shirt as her stomach grew tight and then, she fell.

“Fuuuuck, god please!” She moved her hips with his hand, chasing her orgasm until her cunt began to ache for something more. “Please Johnny, please I need you inside me now.” He followed her tugging hands up until he was firmly nestled against her, his shirt now off and his wet hand undoing his jeans.

“Whatever you want hen, ‘m here for you.” Apparently Johnny had the same inclination against underwear as Simon did, his cock easily sprang free, bumping against his taut stomach. While not as big as Simon’s, Johnny was no less intimidating. Thick and cut, his head now almost a dark purple and throbbing with his eagerness to be inside her.

Something flashed in his eyes and he quickly glanced at Simon. “Condom?” Y/N pinched his chin and brought him back to face her.

“Birth control. I need you inside me. Now.” Goosebumps exploded along his arms.

“Yes ma’am.” He notched himself against her entrance and with one solid nod of consent, Johnny finally pushed into her.

The pain was almost muted by the buzz of her orgasm but she could still feel the burn of the stretch and the small pinch at her tightest point. Her nails bit into the muscles of his shoulders but he never faltered for a second, only cooing soft words of encouragement into her ear as he rocked forwards until he was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck.” She couldn’t even tell whose voice that was, too lost to the feeling of being so full for the first time in her life. As soon as she relaxed her grip, Johnny pulled out halfway and thrust back in as gently as he could. This feeling was so utterly foreign but so familiar, a burning heat that ignited her nerves.

He slipped a hand beneath her raised back, letting him press in deeper, hitting a spot inside her that she never thought existed. “Thas it hen, just keep breathing. Doing so good fer me.” His accent grew thicker as he hissed, her cunt clamping down on him in a way that made his head spin.

“More.” She moaned, lifting her wide hips. Johnny obeyed immediately.

The mattress springs groaned with each deep thrust, matching Y/N’s moaned cries. The burn had become a delicate pleasure that was quickly becoming all-consuming and it seems that the man inside her wasn’t faring much better, nor was Simon.

His head was thrown back against the top of the chair but his eyes remained on them, his eye-lids half-closed, revealing only the blackness of his pupil as he watched. His knuckles were white with how tight he held the base of his cock, trying to stave off his end until it was his turn. Johnny’s face was flushed, making his blue eyes shine even bluer. A vein on the right side of his neck pounded with his heartbeat and all Y/N wanted to do was to bite it. His abs flexed with each thrust, a rhythm that sent her up a spiral of ecstasy.

“Johnny, Johnny.” She chanted, her leg wrapping around his waist, heel against his perky ass.

“Good girl. Takin it so good.” Suddenly, the fire burned brighter and she let it overwhelm her. “Fuck hen. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” She rippled around him, forcing his orgasm from him.

As soon as Johnny’s body went lax above her, Simon grabbed him by the back of his neck and smashed their lips together in a borderline violent kiss. “Good lad.” He growled into his mouth as his fingers curled into his now dishevelled mohawk. He pulled Johnny backwards, his softening cock falling from her with a wet pop.

“Finally.” Y/N was suddenly flipped onto her front and before she could even get her bearings, Simon slammed into her. Even aided by her wetness and Johnny’s cum as lube, the stretch was still almost blinding. A shrill cry left her lips but it did nothing to hinder the man above her, she didn’t want it to.

He punched into her with a force that made the headboard slam into the wall, cracking the drywall. “So fuckin tight. Won’t last.” His hands clamped down on her hips, no doubt bruising them but he wouldn’t stop, not now, not when he could unleash every single drop of desire he had ever felt for her.

Warm lips kissed at her cheek and neck as Johnny’s hand pressed against her large stomach, slowly moving down to where she and Simon were connected. He strummed her overworked clit. “Fuck! Do that again.” And like the good soldier he was, Johnny obeyed his lieutenant’s orders, guiding her into yet another earth shattering orgasm.

Simon practically howled as he forced himself entirely into her before he finally filled her with everything he had.

“Fuckin hell.” He groaned and crumbled onto the bed, a hazy smile on his face. Y/N rolled onto her side, fitting into Simon’s outstretched arms, her back to his front.

Johnny stood at the side of the bed, still naked and awkwardly watching the couple hold each other as he was trapped feeling like an outsider even if they were only able to be like this because of him.

Without a word, she held her hand out to Johnny. He looked at it, then her, as if he were trying to defuse a bomb and not thinking about how his best friend’s girlfriend was inviting him into their bed to cuddle after he had just fucked away her virginity. Then, he took it.

Her soft body easily moulded against him as he slipped under the covers beside her. Their legs tangled together and he rested his head on her pillow.

“Thank you for being here Johnny.” She whispered, placing a gentle kiss to his swollen lips.

“Y’know what they say, two’s a crowd, three’s company.” She rolled her eyes.

“We could always add more.” Simon teased, his arm wrapping around the sergeant’s back to draw him closer to them.

“Don’t ruin this Si.”

“Yeah Si.” Johnny parroted.

“Watch it Soap.” He grumbled.

Modern Warfare Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria @relatednative @starboygf

Call of Duty/Modern Warfare

@joyfulfxckery @looking1016

Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish

@Voice_Activated @daytej

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

@mandythemint @babygirl-riley @lunamoonbby @un-aesthetic @Voice_Activated @daytej

943 notes · View notes

2tarbell · 8 months ago

Note

can i just say that i love you?! you write trailerpark!rafe so well and i’ve waited so long to find a writer that created a work solely based on him! my obsession with trailerpark!rafe literally came from that short film drew did with rudy 😭😭

anyways i saw that you were looking for blurb ideas and honestly i can’t get trailerpark!rafe and reader doing cute domestic things together like going to the grocery store, washing the truck together, and maybe us seeing how rafe asked reader to move in with him and seeing his reaction to her adding her sweet touches to the place and making the trailer more homey for them.

thank u my love :C ur so sweet and i appreciate the message!!!! wrote something a little small just detailing rafe’s feelings about domestic stuff 💝 ENJOY!!!!

TRAILERPARK!RAFE who loves how reader has become his life.

he had watched her grow up beside him, neither family abundantly rich. but her chalk drawings of butterflies and hearts stretched along the path of her family home — the colors and softness always enraptured rafe, as well as the furrow of her brow when she yelled at him for killing some little bug. then she turned from a little girl with dirt on her cheeks into a mature woman with curves and determination she definitely didn’t have before.

he was sixteen when he fell in with love her, with her soul.

so he asked her to move in with him on their six month anniversary, all bashful and unsure in the way only she could make him. he was nervous about asking her to just come over, yet alone move in with him in such a shitty little trailer; void of decoration and love. he had always wanted to be more for her, for them. this precious woman that wormed her way into his heart since the moment they met at twelve.

it was cute, the way he was avoiding looking as he drove. she could see his ears turning a bit red, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. he’d been on edge the entire evening — shifty eyes and shaky hands so unlike the man she had come to know and love so dearly.

it all made sense when he spoke lowly, eyes still on the road ahead:

“so, uh... whaddaya— ahem… was thinkin’ ‘bout you maybe — uh — movin’ in?”

“you— you want me to?”

rafe couldn’t imagine anything better. so he nodded. and so did she.

the drive continued with her head on his shoulder, both biting back cheesy smiles at the next step they’d decided to take. rafe brought her hand to lips, pressing a long kiss to her knuckles — his fears of being not enough were washed away as his place eventually became their place.

there she was that very weekend, all tender and sweet and telling him where to put her stuff amongst his. he sees her in the furniture they picked, the flowers on the kitchen table, the pictures of them on the walls, in the very foundation of the trailer.

(then of course they fucked on every surface available, ‘christening’ the space.)

her hands soothing and gentle on his arms when he comes home to her. rafe never was good at being gentle like she is — he thinks loveliness lives in her bones as she kisses his cheek and mumbles something about dinner that she made him.

but it was the first night after they moved in together, he saw her in the bathroom preparing for bed and felt all air leave him. he can’t imagine a life without her in it. doesn’t want to even entertain the idea. the thought of a place without her burns in his mind — searing and almost painful. he can’t believe there was a time when she wasn’t his.

#tp!reader #trailerpark!rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe outer banks #fanfic #outer banks #rafe cameron smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader

586 notes · View notes

ozzgin · 6 months ago

Note

For October, may I ask for more Xenomorph content from you? I adore all of your work from your writing to your drawings, and it would make this silly little worm squiggly with joy - and maybe a bit of something else, if you catch my drift... -

Much love and smooches! 🪱

Xenomorph Queen x Reader x Xenomorph Hive

In which you're kept as a toy by the Queen and passed around by the rest of the Hive. They know you're Ripley's descendant. They'll take their time with you. content: gender neutral reader, NSFW, based on Alien: Isolation

All you wanted was closure.

That's why you hounded every lead, every hint, every possibility. That's why you ended up on Sevastopol, crawling your way through rotten remains of androids and abandoned labs. That's why you got caught.

You thought you'd end up like the others. When the Xenomorph Warrior brought you to the nest, you caught glimpses of the facehugger carcasses, and the people who served as incubators. Their chests were split open, bloated and obscene. Your lips pursed in a grimace as you awaited your fate.

Unexpectedly, you were dragged along, further into the labyrinth of slime and bone. Until, at last, you were facing the Queen herself. You could immediately tell: she was enormous compared to the other aliens. The servants scurried away, abruptly dropping you like some sort of offering for the curious Beast.

One glance, and she knew. She could see it in your defiant scowl, a certain familiarity that immediately filled her with amusement and excitement. You were related to Ripley.

At first, she just observed you as some sort of peculiarity. Truth be told, she never truly learned much about humans outside of the brief incubation period. Then it happened: it seemed that touching you in certain ways aroused you terribly. You were visibly embarrassed by your reaction, biting your lip, covering your face, or trying to look away in order to hide the deep red blush rapidly spreading across your features. The Xenomorph Queen was intrigued.

For the most part, she enjoys toying with you. You're her little plaything, and she won't stop until you're all hot and bothered. Then she'll leave you to the hive. Often, she will watch as her Warriors and Drones pass you around greedily, having their way with you before another one hisses for a turn. Rarely she'll demand her share, mildly envious of the shameless whimpers rolling out of your mouth from being ravaged by one of her underlings.

See, she doesn't mind the others fucking you. She hates it, however, when you're enjoying yourself more under their savage hands. No one does it better than the Queen.

To think she'd be this possessive towards her new human belonging.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [Horror Masterlist]

#ozztober #monstertober #xenomorph #xenomorph queen #xenomorph x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #alien x human #alien x reader #monster fucker #terato #teratophillia #exophelia

1K notes · View notes

reidingandwriting · 7 months ago

Text

Nice To Meet Ya! > w.w. & l.h.

Word Count: ~1,900

Pairings: Wade Wilson x Reader, Logan Howlett x Reader, it’s (the beginning of) a throuple over here

Warnings: Fem!reader (she pronouns used like. twice in the very end), to be expected amounts of cursing and vulgarity from Wade, lots of cursing in general tbh, maybe a little OOC Logan, still getting to learn how to write his character well (Deadpool and Wolverine gave me brain worms so I had to write this immediately after watching)

A/N: This may become a little bit of a series! I’m having so much fun writing them since I Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine so there will be a lot of solo & duo content with these two. This part is a little Wade focused but the next part is more Logan focused 🫶🏻

Next Chapter

You never in a million years imagined this would be your life. You were raised by busy parents, and you quickly became self sufficient. Independent. When you hit your teenage years, your parents… god knows where they went, to be honest. All you knew is you had a house to yourself, you didn’t have friends anymore, and as lonely as it was, you found a bit of comfort in the solitude. You worked as a bartender at this bar not too far from your house, and you were a crowd favorite. You always brought in the biggest tips and many of the patrons were protective over you.

Your longest regular was the merc with a mouth- Deadpool. Wade, as he introduced himself once, a faint whisper. The fabric of his mask rubbing against your cheek as he whispered the name in your ear. Wade Wilson.

He was... Loud, to say the least. You didn’t think he had an off switch. He insisted he did- but you’d have to go under his suit to find it, he teased you. He never stopped talking and there was no such thing as small talk with him; if you were talking to him, he was downright vulgar, and the quite frankly gross sense of humor was entertaining. He also flirted like it was his job. Much like the rest of his vocabulary, his flirting was pure filth that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. And god forbid any creep start talking to you.

“Hey, princess, sorry I’m late. Too busy blowing my load to the thought of you, then remembered, wait! I can come see your fine ass in person whenever I want. Wanna finish me off?” You could practically feel the smirk Wade was sending you. You gestured for him to lean in, waiting until he was leaned against the bar, chest hovering above the countertop as you leaned in.

“In your dreams, dick for brains.” Your lips brushed against where his were covered by his mask, and you smirked when you heard the sharp intake of breath. The gasp almost impossible to hear, but it made your heart flutter all the same.

“You, sweet thang? Always. Holy fucking shit, that was so hot.” You and Wade had quickly become friends, his personality meshing well with yours. After ‘baby knife’ had somehow found itself in the hand of some perv that had been borderline stalking you at work for weeks, you found a new part of his personality. His protectiveness. He was as chipper as ever, but with the manic energy of someone who could, and would, kill someone who mildly inconvenienced someone he cared for. Unhinged, barely holding onto his minimal self restraint to splatter the guy’s blood all over the wall. Wouldn’t want you to have a mess to clean up, he admitted once it was just the two of you.

He offered to walk you home once after he’d known you for a few weeks, and now it was habit. You loved the times you had with just him. He was the same old Wade, but more open about himself. More vulnerable. These walks were where you got to know Wade, and he got to know you. You had let him crash one night, not that long ago, when it was storming hard. He had already insisted on walking you home, storm be damned, and you repaid him with a home cooked meal, some trashy movie, and a night of conversation on your couch until you dozed off, your head lolling to the side and landing on his shoulder.

Hours later, you had woken up, now lying down and the comfortable weight of Wade’s hand in your hair from where your head rested on his thighs. By the time the sun rose, you were alone in your living room, the only trace Wade had been there being a sloppy drawing of the Deadpool mask and a heart he scribbled on the whiteboard of your fridge. You smiled at the doodle and left it up, it still being up there today.

You stood at your spot behind the bar a few weeks later when someone new walked into the building, and you tilted your head. Newcomers weren’t entirely unheard of, but they were pretty rare, especially on a weekday. You took in the man as he stood near the doorway; brown hair, and oh fuck, good beard. The leather jacket he wore did little to hide how muscular he was and you watched as he scanned the room. Body tense, as if looking for potential threats. Potential ways out if danger occurred. Not like anyone would mess with him, aura alone enough to scare off anyone within a ten foot radius, let alone the hard look in his eyes.

Still, he walked over to the bar and took a seat. You offered a gentle smile, watching for another second before speaking. “You seem like a whiskey fan.”

His hazel gaze shifted up to meet your eyes, and you felt as if he was staring right into your god damned soul. It was intimidating, it was hot, and you couldn’t decide whether you should look away or lean in and-

“Yeah. Whiskey’s nice.” He nodded his head towards a bottle behind you. You nodded and went to pour a glass as he spoke again. “You always try to guess orders?”

“Only the interesting ones. Or the pretty ones.” You winked before turning, smiling when you heard the slightest huff of amusement. “Haven’t seen you here before. New in town?”

“Somethin’ like that.” You turned back around, setting the glass in front of him, propping up on your elbows as he drank. “Thanks.” He looked familiar but god, you couldn’t place where you had seen him before. You made light conversation, most of the talking done by you, but you found that you didn’t mind. He listened, intently. Everything he did seemed to be intense, like it was his default. You were grateful for the slow night, getting to see a glimpse of the man behind the bulletproof walls he had clearly built around himself.

“You thirsty slut! Of course I’d find you here.” You heard Wade’s voice before you saw him, and an annoyed scowl took over the unknown man’s face.

“Thirsty slut? Thought that was your autobiography title,” you said and Wade gasped in mock offense.

“You know I don’t read! Mocking the illiterate, how dare you?” Wade hopped onto the counter, hip almost knocking the glass of whiskey over.

“I don’t get how you’re late to a place you wanted to go to.” The brunette man said, voice low and rough, and Wade waved a hand dismissively.

“So uptight, can you believe it? Need to pull the stick out of your ass, maybe put it in-“

“La la la la la, not listening,” you sang, covering your ears, and Wade turned to you.

“You traitor! I leave you alone for five minutes and Wolvie has his claws in you.” Wolvie… Holy fuck, you were trying to flirt with the Wolverine. “And, Peanut, you know I’d never be late on purpose. Except I really needed to piss, then I got distracted by this really cute dog outside and I ended up totally abandoning my favorite dog.” Wade reached out to pat him, and you watched as a sliver of claws extended from his hands. A warning that didn’t seem to deter Wade much, but he did put his hand down. “Well, might as well introduce you.” Wade told you his name was Logan, and Wade told Logan your name in return.

You and Wade continued to talk, Logan yet again preferring to listen rather than join the conversation. Wade told the story of how he met Logan, how together the two of them essentially saved the world, and how the two of them were now roommates. Begrudgingly, according to Logan, but Wade seemed thrilled about his ‘roomie’.

It was hours later when the three of you left the bar. Wade insisted on walking you home, taking your hand in his and skipping down the street with you. Logan was a few paces behind you, his presence a comforting sense behind you. Where Wade was loud, in your face, Logan seemed to be the quiet lurker type. He’d hide in the shadows, making himself known when he felt threatened. You walked up to your front door, unlocking the door and Wade helped himself inside. You rolled your eyes and turned to Logan, who lingered on your doorstep.

“If you want to come in, you’re more than welcome. At least one of you has manners,” you called towards where Wade stood in your kitchen and cackled. Logan nodded, muttering a ‘Thank you’ as he walked inside, his shoulder brushing against yours gently. You shut the door behind you and Wade opened your fridge.

“Aww, pookie, you kept my drawing!” There was a hint of an unfamiliar emotion in his voice… something, something new. You couldn’t place it, yet you smiled anyways.

“Of course I did, Wade.” Now that you were in the safety of your house, Wade’s mask had been discarded on your kitchen counter and you could see the smile on his face. “Get out of my fridge, you leech.“

“I’m starving,” Wade whined and you turned to look at Logan. He stood a little awkwardly, and you gestured to the couch, taking a seat and smiling when he followed suit. He sat on the cushion furthest from you, but you didn’t question it.

Logan couldn’t help but study you. There was an obvious familiarity between you and Wade, you matching his wit and comebacks, but you were different when you spoke to him. You were quieter, more reigned in. Strangely not out of fear, but as if you were trying to make him comfortable. You switched between Wade and Logan like it was second nature, and the more he talked to you and the more he watched you and Wade, he felt himself begin to relax just a little.

He didn’t realize how much time had passed until Wade, ever the charmer, let out a dramatic yawn, throwing his hands up in the air as he stretched. “Well, cupcake. I think it’s about time we head home. Old man is already up way past his bedtime.” Wade yelped as he jumped back, barely missing the claws that protruded from Logan’s hand, and he stuck his tongue out at him. “Grumpy grandpa.”

You stood and Logan followed suit. Wade kissed your cheek before saying goodbye and stepping outside, leaving you and Logan alone.

“I hope I’ll see you again, Logan.” Your voice was gentle, your smile even more so, and Logan nodded.

“I’ll be around. Don’t think I have much of a choice with that one.” There was a sliver of fondness mixed with the exasperation in his voice, and Logan started to walk outside. “Goodnight, bub.” Logan closed the door behind him, lingering until he heard your locks click shut. He caught up with Wade a moment later and Wade gave him the biggest shit eating grin ever.

“Is someone melting the big bad wolf’s heart?” The metallic clang followed by Wade’s pained grunt made Logan laugh, and Wade shoved his shoulder.

“Wait until she sees what an asshole you are. Then she’ll realize I’m the better half of this friendship.” The two men continued to bicker the entire way home, both of them thinking about when they’d get to see you next.

424 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months ago

Note

Happy birthday and congratulations on 7k!! You deserve it. Thank you for sharing your gift for writing with us <3

Can I request apple pie- James potter + an airport terminal at midnight

I once saw a guy at the airport who looked a bit like James but I was looking busted and severely hungover from my last night of spring break to talk to him 😅

Thank you for requesting lovely!!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 688 words

“Excuse me.”

The voice is soft but still you wake with something like a growl brewing in your chest, fingers tightening possessively around the strap of your backpack. There’s a boy with brown eyes and a strong chin looking at you concernedly from behind a pair of glasses.

“Sorry,” he says, setting a hand on your suitcase. You’ve got your leg hooked through the handle, but he doesn’t look like he’s trying to steal it, only resting his hand there. “Would you like this?” He holds up a clumped-up mass of fabric.

You blink at him, trying to puzzle out whether he’s really making no sense or whether you’re just that tired.

“For your head,” the boy clarifies. “You just, you don’t look very comfortable.”

You lift your head, feeling the imprint that something poking through your backpack has left in your cheek. “Sorry,” you say blearily. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s my fault,” he owns immediately. “Sorry, I meant would you like to use my hoodie as a pillow? So you can sleep properly.”

“Oh.” You still feel odd, and it doesn’t help that this is the sort of thing that might usually only happen in a dream. Since when do attractive strangers walk up to you in airports? “Um, thank you, but you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s really alright.” With your head lifted, he starts positioning it atop your backpack, fluffing it as though it’s a real pillow. “It’s my spare. I’m warm enough without it, see?” He gestures to the hoodie he’s wearing as if to demonstrate. It’s a deep red color that looks nice against his warm skin. He does look very warm, overall. “Anyways, there.” He steps back, grinning almost bashfully as he takes a seat across from you. “Now hopefully you can sleep better.”

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

He nods, still smiling much too brightly for this hour of night (or morning, you suppose. Is it morning yet?).

You close your eyes, trying to ignore how pleasantly warm your makeshift pillow is, like he’s been carrying it around in his arms all day. It smells nice, too, the scent of a shampoo you vaguely recognize and also pine, maybe picked up from wherever he’s coming from. You open your eyes again.

“When’s your flight?”

He looks back at you, pulling his headphones off one ear.

“When’s your flight?” you ask again. “So I can make sure to give it back in time.”

“Oh, not for a few hours yet.” He waves you off. His headphones come down around his neck. “We’re suffering delays. When’s yours?”

“Five-thirty.” You feel weary at the thought of it, though you can’t wait to get out of here. You’ve been dying to leave this airport since you’d arrived, grievously regretting your decision to save money on a hotel for the last night of your trip.

He makes a sympathetic hissing noise. “That sounds truly awful. Early bird gets the worm, though?”

“Something like that.”

He smiles, and maybe it’s the fluorescent lighting but you think that if you weren’t already lying down it would take your knees out from under you. “I’m James.”

You tell him your name, and he nods like he’s tucking it away.

“Are you going on holiday?” he asks, crossing one of his legs under him, getting comfortable.

“Sort of,” you reply. “I’m going to see my mum. But she makes it feel like a holiday.” Something softens around James' eyes, and for reasons unknown it makes your face warm. “Where are you headed?”

“My best mates are spending the holiday in France. They’ve spared me a pullout couch.” James tilts his head, looking far more content than anyone traveling at this hour ought to be. You wonder if his lips just lie in a permanent uptilt. “So where you’re going to visit your mum, is that where you’re from?”

You reposition your backpack so you’re propped up a bit more, James’ hoodie still under your cheek but suddenly feeling less keen on sleeping the hours until your flight away. Oddly, you’re no longer dying to leave this airport quite so badly.

469 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 3 months ago

Note

you have no idea what you do to me.

the sight of you leaving is burned into my brain.

Derek Shepherd

Pronouns: They/Them/Theirs, GN!Reader

You flipped through one of the patient's charts, scanning the vitals for anything wrong and double-checking the notes written to ensure she'd received her daily dose of meds. She'd been in a hospital for a while, and the sweet old lady had managed to worm her way into your heart with her light-hearted quips.

Much to your relief, she was steadily recovering from her heart transplant and would likely be heading home back to her husband in the following week. She was doing better than most at her old age.

With a quiet sigh, you flipped through the papers one last time before setting the chart in the stack for Sydney to look over when she had the time. You took a glance at the clock ticking by on the wall and right on cue, felt your stomach give a light grumble. You'd had a light breakfast, if toast and coffee counted as breakfast anyway, and the consequences were already beginning to set in.

"I'll see you later, Olivia."

"See you!" Olivia shot you a quick smile that swiftly dropped into a look of concentration once she turned back to the computer screen and continued typing away.

You pushed yourself away from the counter and debated tracking down Callie to see if she'd be available to chat, your mind too preoccupied to notice the presence behind you until you turned around and felt your body get racked with a flinch.

"Jesus Christ!" Your hand flew to clutch your now racing heart over the crinkly blue scrubs, a scowl forming on your face while a grin formed on Derek's.

"Not quite." He giggled.

Bastard.

"Hilarious, Dr. Shepherd." You muttered, taking a deep inhale of air and holding it until your heart returned to its previous, more healthy pace. You huffed and stepped past him, the smell of his cologne near suffocating you with memories you'd rather forget. "You should consider comedy."

"I'd be a great comedian." He nodded agreeably, causing one of his perfectly curled locks to bounce along his hairline, and then he quickly fell into step with you as if you were a longtime friend of his and not someone he dated for a few months while mourning a past relationship with one of your fellow interns.

You wanted to smack the shit-eating grin right off his perfect face.

"How are you, (Y/N)? We haven't spoken in a while." Derek spoke casually, his voice so naturally soothing and genuinely curious you almost felt inclined to answer his question. Derek had a way of effortlessly charming everyone around him, it was no wonder Meredith's nickname for him had stuck. McDreamy... what a joke.

"I wonder why." Your snark hardly deterred him. He was as infuriating as he was handsome, and his dazzling blue eyes were hard to say no to. "It's not like I broke up with you because you were constantly moping over your ex who I work with or anything like that."

Derek winced and before you could turn the corner and slip into the bustling crowd of patients and coworkers, Derek swiftly stepped into your path. He reached out with gentle hands and grabbed your forearms, the softness of his palms burning into your skin. You resisted the urge to swat at his hands. He was an Attending before he was your ex, as annoying as it was.

"(Y/N), the sight of you leaving is burned into my brain. I thought.. I thought you were doing the right thing, the brave thing. And it was. I was a coward and an asshole and.. I'm sorry. You were right about a lot of things but.. I realized a lot of things after you left." His eyes softened, and in turn, you felt yourself soften up. His pouty lips pulled into a warm, slightly cheeky smile. "You have no idea what you do to me. Seeing Karev trying to flirt with you the other day.. it killed me. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness or a second chance but I'm hoping you'll give us a try again."

You bit your inner cheek.

You weren't one for second chances, especially after going through such heavy disappointment, but here stood renowned neurosurgeon Derek Shepherd who looked seconds away from getting on his knees and begging for you. He could've lept at the chance at trying things out again with Meredith.. but he wanted you. Your lips threatened to quirk into an amused smile when he cocked his head to the side like a puppy.

"Fine." Derek beamed and you rolled your eyes despite the soft chuckle. "But this is your last chance, Derek. Don't fuck this up."

Derek swooped forward to plant a peck on your cheek. "I wouldn't dream of it."

158 notes · View notes

jayaury · 5 months ago

Text

Marked for Love

Another short story from the archive. Plenty more on you know where! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

Oh, this was not good. Not good at all.

Cynthia Spellman bit her lower lip as she looked in the cracked mirror, her robe hiked up, baring her slim stomach, her lacy panties and, more importantly, the red mark like an elaborate heart tattooed on her mons. Throbbing.

Pulsing.

Beating with an insidious heat that wormed its way through her and to her core.

She groaned aloud. Ohhhh dammit. Dammit dammit dammit! She knew they should have recruited a priest into the party when delving into the Demon’s Dungeon. If only she’d been able to torch that imp to ash before the bitch got off that spell. Because Cynthia knew the curse mark she was looking at. Any mage would.

A breeding rune.

She swore again. An insidious mark, and one with only a 2% chance of landing. Honestly, she hadn’t thought any demons would be stupid enough to cast it. But that imp had looked awfully pleased with herself, right before Cynthia blasted the little harlot back to the pit that spawned her.

But the damage had been done.

And she was stuck with it.

Cynthia chewed on her lip worriedly. What she needed to do was get it dispelled, asap. Because a breeding rune was one of the more sinister magics. It enchanted a woman to desire a man to cum in her by any means. To be filled with seed and quicken with child. Which was bad enough, but the real danger was the longer she held out, the more the curse would change her in order to get what she needed. Corrupting her body and soul until she was just a demonic trollop begging for a good dicking. Not a problem if she got the curse banished. But if she ended up giving in, she’d be locked into whatever state she was in when she finally got that much needed fucking.

And how in the hells was she supposed to explain that?

A knock sounded at the door. “Cynthia? You okay?”

Cynthia squeaked, dropping her skirt hastily. “F-fine Roland!” she called. “Just fine! Just… just making sure this new hood fits! That’s all.”

“Alright. But be careful. We’re not out of this dungeon yet.”

Gods, and didn’t she know it. She felt again a flush. They’d delved pretty deep into the dungeon today, and the way out was quite far. But she felt sure she could manage it. The curse would take time to take effect. Honestly, she could last a few hours without jumping Roland’s bones. Fine bones that they were. Making the knight so big and strong and tanky. Always ready to take a hit for her. Let her do her stuff. So protective and sweet and…

She felt the heat within her stir and grow and she quickly shook her head. Get it together, girl! All she had to do was last a few hours and she could get out of the dungeon and head straight to the nearest temple to get the curse removed. For brief moment she considered telling Roland, but instantly dismissed the idea. The thought of admitting such an embarrassing thing appalled her. She couldn’t tell him she’d done something as silly as getting cursed by some low-level imp. Not to mention he’d ask to see it. Ask if he could do anything for her, because he was such a good man. A kind man. A sweet, lovable, hunk of man who would be such a gentle lover and…

She groaned and slapped her cheeks again. Focus, girl. Focus! Turning on her heel, she marched to the door and opened it abruptly.

Roland waited on the other side, and just the sight of his handsome, worried face almost melted her legs out from under her with a sudden needy heat that shot from her core. Blonde hair curled about his face. A broad build confined by his heavy armour, a large shield and sword sheathed on his back, and an expression of genuine concern, he was what every mage dreamed their tank would be.

“Did you try on the hood?” he asked.

“Hm? Hood? O-oh! Yes. Mhmm. Yes, absolutely. It ah, it didn’t boost my stats quite as much as I’d hoped. Haha!”

“That’s a shame,” he said, his eyes wandering down to her chest. “But uh, why are you leaving your robe a bit open like that?”

Cynthia looked down in surprise, realizing her collar was a bit undone, revealing a hint of her bust. “Oh, yes, that. Just… been feeling a bit hot in here. Thought I might get more air circulating. Cool myself a bit. Not a big deal.”

“If you say so,” Roland said, though she couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on the teasing hint of her breasts. A sensation of amused triumph thrilled through her, but she quickly tamped it down.

“Let’s get going!” she declared, quickly passing him. “Gotta get above ground soon. Can’t delay!”

“Oh, yes. Um, right. Of course,” she heard Roland say, then the reassuring clank of his armour as he followed her. Cynthia breathed a sigh of relief, focusing on the present and what she needed to do. Just keep moving. Just keep going.

And try to ignore how comfortable it felt to put a bit of wiggle into her walk.

Gods, why was it so hot!

Cynthia groaned as she sat on a rock, feeling the heat like her clothes were stuffed with burning coals. With every step she’d been feeling the curse mark pulse on her mons, threading more of its feverish warmth through her. Roland had gone to scout ahead for a bit, giving her a blessed opportunity to take a break. Gods, but she just needed a bit of relief. Just a little bit to get further.

She hesitated, reaching for the enchanted bell on the collar of her robe. She knew she shouldn’t adjust her clothes. But if she did nothing, she’d pass out from heatstroke before reaching the surface. And if she did, then Roland would surely check on her. Maybe undress her. Then he’d see that mark and think she was a dumb bimbo and… and…

She grimaced and tightened her lips. Reluctantly, she touched the bell on her collar, gripped it, and willed a bit of relief.

Almost at once the fabric around her chest loosened, stretching and exposing more of her cleavage. She sighed with satisfaction, sagging a bit. Gods, that was so much better! But she still felt warm. Blushing a bit, she willed the sides of her robe to open, creating long slits that left only a strap of cloth covering her mons and ass. Somewhat scandalous, true, but there was no denying it was far more comfortable.

And… dare she say, cute?

She looked down at her chest and a worried frown marred her face. Was it just her, or was she… bigger? She cupped her chest, and had to bite her lip to suppress a sudden moan from escaping her. Oh… oh gosh, that… that felt good. So… so sensitive.

In fact, it was kind of hard to stop.

Stop feeling her big, soft chest. Giving it a bounce. A squeeze. Ohhhh, that felt gooood. She squirmed, legs rubbing together. But… but what would feel even better would be getting a big, studly, strong man to fill his loving hands with her big breasts. A man like…

”Roland,” she breathed.

“C-Cynthia?”

She squeaked, snatching her hands back and looking up in shock to find the knight standing at the end of the tunnel, staring at her in amazement.

“Roland!” Cynthia exclaimed, bounding quickly to her feet, and as she did, she caught his eyes riveting to her chest as her breasts bounced in her top. A feeling of satisfaction filled her, but she dutifully ignored it. “What um, what did you find?” she asked.

Roland seemed to shake himself, blinking as he looked back up at her. “Find? Oh, yes. It seems clear ahead. Looks like the ah, monsters haven’t respawned yet.”

“Wonderful!” Cynthia said, snatching up her staff. “Then we should get going, shouldn’t we?”

“Er, yes. We should. But uh, Cynthia, your clothes. They look…”

“Oh! That,” she giggled, giving a quick twirl. “Do you like it?”

“I um…”

“Just getting a bit of cooler air. So hot down here, right?”

“It is?”

“Absolutely!” she said, smiling encouragingly. “So hot. Gets me all sweaty and warm. Just needed to, you know, get a bit of airflow going. Right? Anyway! No time to waste. Better get back on the move.”

“I… guess,” Roland said uncertainly.

“Exactly! Let’s go,” Cynthia exclaimed, bounding past him, trying to suppress the knowledge of how good it felt to have that strip of cloth swishing between her thighs. The way the silk stroked her panties and slick mound.

But she also noticed the way Roland watched her breasts bounce in her tight top as she went by.

And maybe she enjoyed that gaze a bit more than was proper…

Hells but her migraine was just killing her.

Cynthia groaned, rubbing her temples.

“You sure you’re okay?” Roland asked her.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Just fine. Have a little headache, that’s all.”

“Can I do anything to help?” he asked.

Bend me over this fucking rock and rail me until I’m begging you to stuff me with your fucking stud baby batter!

Through an incredible force of will, Cynthia managed to not scream that out. But she needed some relief. The heat in her was coiling its insidious tentacles all through her, and she needed SOMETHING to take the fucking pressure off.

Her eyes slid back to Roland.

“Actually,” she said slowly, rolling her shoulders with a pained expression. “I’m feeling so… stiff at the moment. And you have those wonderfully talented hands. I was thinking maybe you could give me a quick massage.”

“A massage?” he said uncertainly.

“Yeah,” she said, already warming to the idea. Well, her body was anyway. Just the thought of getting those strong hands on her made the tension coiling in her ease just a bit. “Just a bit. Help me relax.”

“Of course,” the knight said, beaming that lovable smile of his as he took off his gauntlets. Cynthia bit her lip. Gods, just the sight of that goofy smile made her want to cram his head between her thighs and ride his tongue to a dozen screaming orgasms.

But she’d take what she could get. And as he moved around and sat down behind her, she tried not to shiver at the smell of him. That sweet medley of leather and sweat and manliness.

And that was before she felt his hands on her shoulders.

“Ohhhhh,” she groaned, arching.

He paused. “You okay?”

“Better than ever,” she sighed.

“I haven’t even started.”

“Then don’t wait,” she fairly growled. “Get those strong fingers in there.”

“Sorry?”

“Just… please, start.”

She stifled a moan as his fingers began to gently knead her shoulders, soon growing more confident at the familiar motions. Cynthia exhaled heavily, her eyes drifting half-shut as she enjoyed his touch. His wonderful, gentle yet firm touch. Gods, those fingers were incredible. She could actually feel herself start to drift away, even the headache easing.

“Is that good?” Roland asked.

“Wonderful,” she breathed, sinking back against his touch. Oh gods it was so good. “Lower.”

She felt his touch slide over her shoulders. “Like that?”

“Oh yessss,” she groaned, shivering in ecstasy, her toes curling in her shoes. “Just… mnnn… like that. Maybe… maybe a bit lower.”

She felt him hesitate, then obey. She was breathing deeper. Heavier. That was good. That was nice…

“You smell good,” Roland murmured.

A smile stole across her lips at his dreamy voice. “Thank you. Perfume… perfume is new. And lower, Roland.”

“L-lower?”

“Please,” she panted, wriggling.

Again that moment of hesitation. Then his hands slid down. Slid over the gentle curves of her chest.

Oh gods yes.

A soft moan escaped her as she arched, pushing her breasts into his uncertain hands. Hands that began to grow more confident. Slow. Gentle. Pumping and squeezing her breasts in ways that made her whimper and gasp in helpless pleasure.

Oh gods.

Oh gods that was so good.

She could feel the heat that had been torturing her dull to a pleasant throb. Swelling up into her head, filling it with a hazy warmth. Her headache easing into clouds of euphoric pleasure as her hips lazily rocked.

“Just like that,” she breathed, her free hand stealing between her thighs, a jolt of delight racing through her as she touched herself, the silky strip between her legs offering no protection to her hyper-sensitive pussy. “Oh Roland…”

“So soft,” he breathed, his face nearly buried in her luxurious hair, his hands still massaging and adoring her breasts. His warm breath panting against the back of her neck.

Oh gods yes.

“Roland,” she moaned, her finger pressing against her pussy, stroking herself through her dress and panties. Higher. Higher.

“Cynthia,” she heard him gasp behind her, his hands skilled and adoring as they bounced and massaged her soft breasts. She squirmed in delight, hot pants escaping her in rushes, her ass grinding back against him, feeling the bulge in his pants.

“Roland. Roland,” she whimpered, her finger strumming herself harder. Pleasure sparking through her in bursts, the cloudiness in her head concentrating. The pressure throbbing. Feeling so good. So wonderful. So… so…

“Mnnnnnn!” she cried out, quivering as she came, her juices staining her filmy panties and the strip of her robe, her muscles tightening in shameful ecstasy, the pressure in her head releasing in a sudden burst of euphoria that washed her in a wave of bliss.

She sighed happily, leaning back against Roland, who merely moaned softly, still gently massaging her plump teats. A sensation that ached through her wonderfully. Gods but it felt good. Gods it all felt so… so fucking good…

Why hadn’t she done this before?

As that idle thought swam through her mind, she felt another urgent throb from the place above her mons. She lifted her head numbly, and felt a strange weight on her brow. Vaguely, she reached up, touching her forehead.

Feeling a pair of bumps.

Her eyes snapped open in horror. Horns. Oh fuck, she had horns! Her formerly wonderful pleasure vanished like a flash of pink steam.

“Cynthia?”

She looked down in shock at the hands on her breasts and bolted suddenly to her feat, then slapped her palm to her forehead, turning away so Roland couldn’t see her front. “Er, yes! Thank you, Roland. Wonderful job. Very um, good. I’m just gonna go, er, freshen up a bit real quick. Be right back!”

“Wha-”

Before he could object she hurried back around the corridor’s corner and covered her face with her hands. Oh gods. Oh gods, did she really do that? Did she really just get Roland to play with her fat cow tits while she masturbated on his lap?

Yes.

Yes she did.

And it had been amazing.

She felt her blush warm herself anew, even as she berated her response. Gods, the curse’s heat was already back! It was like she hadn’t even gotten a moment of relief from it. But it was fine. It was fine. She could fix this. Just… just get out of the dungeon and find a priest who could dispel the curse. Then she’d be back to normal.

Yes.

Just normal.

So normal she’d never have done anything like that. Let Roland massage her sensitive breasts. Rub her ass against his bulge as she stroked herself to one of the best orgasms she’d ever had.

Totally.

Utterly.

Normal.

Cynthia bit her lip at the thought. She… she did want to be normal again. She was pretty sure of that. No, no. She was absolutely sure of it. Even if it had felt amazing. Even if she’d relished the thrill and the sound of Roland’s voice becoming dim and hazy. As if drunk on her presence. Her beauty. Even if she now had horns which she really needed to cover up. Yes, a hood. That’s what she needed.

And… maybe let the chest out a bit more. All of Roland’s pumping had made her even bustier.

Again she touched the bell on her neck and willed the changes. She sighed in relief as a hood formed from her top, looping over her hair, while an even larger boob window opened in her robe. As she looked herself down, she frowned at a sight below. The strip of fabric between her legs now sported a very apparent stain.

“Gods dammit,” she groaned. Look at that mess. She was NOT wandering through the dungeon with a big stain on the front of her robe. But how to hide it?

A sudden vision entered her mind, and well, it was a bit out of character for her, but why not? She’d be out of the dungeon soon anyway. Another press on the bell folded the strips of cloth between her legs, her robe shrinking even more, hugging her curves in a form-fitting leotard that showed off her every incredible curve. Cynthia smirked and turned this way and that, admiring her bared thighs and curves of her breasts. A perfect hourglass. Gods she was hot. That wasn’t the curse talking. Just… confidence.

Yeah.

Just confidence at being so gorgeous.

Smiling, she turned and went back into the chamber. Roland was still sitting on the rock, bent forward, his head in his hand like he had a headache.

“Ready, Roland?” Cynthia asked.

He looked up, and Cynthia had to bite her lip to keep from smirking at his expression. His jaw positively dropped at the sight of her, the awe in his eyes sending another shot of pure heat into her pussy and tingling through her veins.

“Cynthia,” he gasped. “You…”

“Just needed to let my body breathe a bit more,” Cynthia said coyly, turning this way and that to let him admire her further. “Do you like?”

“You… you look amazing,” he admitted.

Cynthia giggled. “So glad you think so. Now, come on, Roland,” she said, crooking a finger and beckoning. “Let’s get going.”

He rose instantly, and Cynthia felt another thrill at how quickly he obeyed. How his eyes grew dim as he breathed in deeply, as if just the sight and scent of her threatened to drown him in her presence. Arrogant of her to think so, perhaps, but as she turned, leading the way forward, she was hit with the delightful feeling like she was leading a puppy through the black stone halls.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The heat was back.

And strong.

So fucking strong.

It had been okay for a bit, but now the coiling warmth of desire was consuming her like an inferno. Cynthia was blushing, feeling her pulse throb and mons ache as if begging her to bathe her womb in the seed of a man. And it really didn’t help having such a handsome, willing man right behind her. Gods, she just wanted to push him down, kiss him, smother him under her fat tits and grind herself to a dozen orgasms before she even got his fucking pants off.

“Look! The exit.”

The words snapped her from her fantasies. Cynthia raised her head and through the blur of her vision she saw the white glow of the way out. The shining end of the tunnel beckoning her on.

Out.

Out of the dungeon.

Excitement surged within her. Bloomed with euphoria. “Yes!” she gasped. “Yes!”

So overcome, she whirled around and wrapped her arms around a startled Roland, leaned forward, and kissed him adoringly on the lips.

She felt him stiffen reflexively, but then he moaned, his eyes lidding, growing hazy as his lips moved against hers, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her tight against him. Cynthia whimpered in delight as she felt her mound press against his front. Grind against his bulge. Her sensitive breasts rubbing against the steel of his chest.

The kiss deepened. Her tongue pushed into his mouth. Her hands slid up his neck and to his head, her fingers running through his hair as his own arms moved over her back as if tracing every inch of her winsome figure.

More.

She needed more.

The compulsion radiated from her mons. From the mark. She pushed him back and Roland hit the cavern wall. She broke the kiss, panting. Hot. Needy.

“We… we shouldn’t,” she breathed, her hands already moving, finding catches and buckles of armour and stripping them away with uncanny precision.

“Y-yeah. Shouldn’t,” Roland said dimly, offering no resistance as his hands continued to stroke her, tracing the curve of her ass, pressing himself against the tight fabric of her leotard.

“Gotta… gotta resist,” Cynthia panted as she tugged his pants down, her fingers grasping his stiffened cock.

“Nnnn,” Roland groaned.

“Can’t give in,” Cynthia breathed as she sank to her knees, Roland’s cock finally in her hand. Before her eyes. Thick. Throbbing. Begging for her attention. The scent stuffing her nose. Her head. Her tongue teased over her lips. Her mouth opened, and she swallowed him deep.

“Ohhhh!” Roland groaned, head falling back, body jolting with a gasp.

“Mmmm,” Cynthia agreed, her lashes fluttering in ecstasy as she began to bob, her tongue swirling over his tip and length. Gods. Gods above, he tasted so good. So thick and powerful and virile. Her free hand slipped beneath him, cradling his balls, and she could fairly feel his seed churn within them. Stirring from her ministrations. Begging for release.

She’d release him.

Gods she would.

She’d suck him dry. Swallow without missing a drop. Gods, what had taken her so long to do this? How could she have kept herself from pushing him down and just fucking choking herself on his fat cock!? Her throat seemed to accommodate his every inch with uncanny ease. Moaning, bobbing, she sucked him deep, going down to the root, her tongue lathing and wrapping around his manhood with utterly shameless need.

“F-fuck!” Roland gasped, his eyes misty. Foggy. His hands groping down to her head. Cynthia bucked as his fingers pushed aside her hood and wrapped around her horns, the sensation throbbing into her like a bolt of lightning. For a brief moment she felt panic, but glancing up at his face showed Roland didn’t even seem to notice. His eyes were fogged, his mouth open, panting in needy gasps as he pumped into her waiting mouth.

Pheromones. A demon’s trait, now hers from the curse.

And he was utterly drunk on them.

She knew she should feel bad about that, but she didn’t care. She wanted him too much. Too badly. She needed his cum. Needed him. The heat from her mound pulsed in a throbbing beat like drums urging her on. Urging her to suck harder. Massage his balls. Tease and pump him until his face was flushed and desperate gasps were escaping him. Until he was feverishly pumping his cock into her mouth, fucking her face until… until…

“F-fuuuuuuck!” Roland cried out, head thrown back, groaning as he came.

And Cynthia was in heaven.

She moaned, her eyes lidding as the hot heaviness of his load pumped into her mouth, eagerly swallowed down into her stomach. She sucked him gently, relishing every spurt, feeling the swirling delight ache through her.

Gods.

Gods, it was… it was so fucking perfect…

And yet, it wasn’t enough.

Cynthia pulled her lips off his cock, her whole body feeling like it was on fire. Her head throbbing. Thoughts swirling with a single need that she had to satisfy. “More,” she gasped.

“C-Cynthia?” Roland panted, looking down at her blankly, his jaw slack.

She knew he’d do anything she wanted him to. She could tell. He wanted her as bad as she wanted him. And she’d have him. She rose, no longer hesitant. No longer caring of consequences or doubt. Her hand rose, rang the bell on her collar.

Every stitch of clothing seemed to burst from her, baring her glorious figure in all its glory, her skin so flushed it seemed red, her breasts so huge and full they seemed to float upon her chest. Her hips were wide and her legs parted, the curse mark blazing proudly on her body.

Roland stared at her, mouth agape. “What…”

“Don’t question,” she commanded, and he fell silent. Another thrill surged through her as she turned around, bent forward, planting her hands against the far wall, her ass thrust out. “Fuck me, Roland,” she growled, glancing over her shoulder. “Fuck me like you’ve wanted to ever since we met. Fuck me. Mate me. Breed my fucking pussy! I need your cock, Roland. I need it in me. Now!”

Roland stared at her, and oh how her curse mark rewarded her for that stare. That look of helpless lust. Of frantic desire. He came towards her, his hands reaching out, grasping the soft swell of her ample hips. She cried out, cooed as the rewarding heat of her curse mark surged through her again, tingling in her tailbone and back.

“That’s it,” she breathed, waving her rear, smirking as she saw his cock rise, hardening once again at the sight of her needy figure. “Fuck me, Roland. Fuck me hard. Mate me like the slut I am. Just a bitch in heat. Needing your cock. Now fuck me. Fuck me!”

“Yes,” Roland gasped, squeezing her soft rump, aligning his cock with the steamy gash of her pussy. “Yes… mistress…”

For a brief moment that word shocked Cynthia. Raised a doubt in her. She opened her mouth to order him back.

Then he pushed forward.

Filled her.

And hesitation was burned away by the fire of pleasure as she got what she so desperately needed.

“Ohhhhh!” Cynthia cried out, arching, tightening deliciously around the thick cock impaling her. Heat bloomed in her, but no longer tortuous. No. Now it surged in her in a euphoric blast. “Yesss!” she cried out. “Fuck me, Roland. Mate me! Fuck me haaaard!”

“Yes,” Roland panted, not hesitating a beat, beginning to thrust, pumping his cock feverishly into her hot pussy. Driving into her with a desperate urgency, every smack of his hips off her ass sending another throb of pure pleasure rocking her to the core. “Yes! Mistress. Fuck mistress. Fuck her!”

“Yes!” Cynthia cried out, uncaring, lost, relishing the feeling of him finally inside her. Finally giving her what she needed! “Yes! Fuck me. Mate me! Breed me, Roland. Breed your mistress! Mistress ah! Mistress needs your c-cum! Give it to her. Give it to me! Fuck me! Fuck me n-nooooooow!”

Pleasure pounded through her. Throbbed behind her eyes. In her back. In her ass. As she wailed her ecstasy, she felt the pressure burst. Felt a dark tail twist from her rear. Black wings sprout from her back.

“Breed your demon mistress noooooow!” Cynthia howled in triumph.

“Nnnnn!” Roland moaned, filling her a final time, his cock sinking deep inside her as he gave in. Cumming in a sudden rush of his hot seed.

The feeling surged into Cynthia. She wailed in pleasure, her orgasm flowing through her after his. Her pussy tightening, quivering, urging the hot gush of his cum into her womb. Feeling it fill her.

Wake her.

Consume her in bliss.

She moaned, her eyes rolling back, her arms shaking as she felt the curse mark burn itself into her skin. Marking her forever. Glowing like a brand.

And she couldn’t have been happier.

With a shaky breath she stepped forward, unsheathing Roland’s cock from her. The knight fell back onto the ground, his strong chest heaving, his eyes staring at her in worship and hazy love.

Cynthia smirked down at him, her hands lazily stroking her figure, her dark wings fluttering, her tail lashing.

Beautiful, she thought to herself. Utterly beautiful.

“Am I lovely, Roland?” she asked.

“So… so lovely,” he gasped, worshipping her with his eyes.

Cynthia giggled, her hands cupping her breasts, stroking them and sending them bouncing, her fingers tracing down onto her hips. “Mmm. And you’ll love me forever, won’t you? Be my obedient stud forever and ever? Pumping me full of children whenever I want?”

“Yes,” Roland panted. “Yes!”

“Adore me?”

“Yes!”

“Worship me?”

“Yes!”

“Do anything for me?”

“Gods yes!”

Cynthia purred, the desperation in his words filling her with intoxicating power. “Good boy,” she cooed, crooking a finger. “Then get up, lover. It’s time for you to get dressed and head out. There’s a whole wide world out there for us, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” Roland breathed, dragging himself to his feet. “Yes, msitress.”

“Good boy,” she laughed, strutting towards the exit of the dungeon, her obedient love slave stumbling after her, still pulling his boots on as he did. Maybe she would visit the temple after all, Cynthia mused. After all, the sisters there would surely love to examine her curse mark. In intimate detail…

#brainwashing #mind control #mindless #brainless #hypnosis #mind corruption #hypnotized #brain drain #jay aury #bimboification #cursed #curse mark #corruption #corruption kink #demon girls #demon girl #short story #ai artwork

291 notes · View notes

c0nfessions-of-a-writing-freak · 1 year ago

Text

One Last Spar

Pairing: Robby Keene x Fem!Reader

Word count: 864

Summary: After a long day of practice you're ready to go home before you get in trouble for being out too late, though Robby has other ideas as he tries to pull you in for one last spar.

Bingo: @eclipsingbingo with the square 'Make Me'

*Gif does not belong to me

"Are you leaving?" Robby wondered as he saw you walking around the dojo, picking your stuff up off the floor and stuffing it into your bag. You and him were the last two in the dojo apart from his dad who was in his office trying to get some paperwork done which he normally discarded.

"Hm?" You hummed before the question registered, looking up to see your boyfriend sitting on the floor and stretching out his legs. Only recently had you started taking lessons with Robby, taking a bit of convincing before you finally relented and started training with him. Now, the two of you could always be found sparring together if you were both at the dojo, normally just messing around when you were together. "Yeah, it's starting to get late and I don't want my mum to get worried."

"I'm sure she wouldn't mind waiting a little bit longer," Robby mused as he jumped to his feet, going after you. Waiting to see what he was going to do, you allow Robby to worm your bag out of your hands, the luggage being discarded off to the side before Robby was stood before you, a soft smile on his face. "We have time for one more round."

"I don't know Robby," You muttered, unsure if this was the best idea. Knowing your mum, she would be spamming your phone soon with hundreds of messages and calls if you didn't say something soon. As you stared at Robby standing across from you, you felt your resolve slowly start to break away, though you didn't let him know that just yet. "It's going to take me a while to get home, I shouldn't waste any more time here."

"I'll drive you home," Robby quickly interjected, his mind set on the idea of one last spar.

"You don't have a licence," You point out with a deadpan, knowing where this was heading. Going to get your bag, you begin walking off the mat and towards your belongings.

"They don't have to know that," Robby said, quickly shuffling in your way to cut you off from grabbing your stuff. Instead, he scooped your hands up in his, a glowing smile on his face as he looked down on you. "Come on, this will be the last one."

"You said that last time," You said with a soft giggle and a shake of your hand, trying to move past Robby only for him to block you off again, not allowing you to get past. Your brows pinched together as you tried again to step past only for Robby to slide in your way. "Robby that's enough. I need to go so get out of my way."

"Make me," The words fell from Robby's lips, a fire in his eyes as he challenged you. Your lips thin together, eyes narrowing at Robby and for a few moments, he thought he might have pissed you off until both of your hands snap out of his, one launching up to try and hit him in the face. The actions were blocked but only by a hair, your fist inches away from his cheek. "Woah," Robby could only whisper before your other fist came hurtling towards him.

As he threw up a hand to try and block it, your attack fell short, never meeting its target as you switched strategies, instead sending your leg shooting out towards his. Colliding with his knee, knocking it back, Robby's weight buckles under him. You didn't let him fall to the ground though as you grabbed onto one of his flailing arms, yanking it towards your chest and then pivoting, shoving him to the ground away from your bag.

He didn't go down without a fight though, gripping onto your wrist as he tugged you down with him. Scrambling to find purchase, your hands land on his chest once his back hits the floor. Pushing yourself up, you try to pin his wrists down, keeping the rest of your body weight sat on his hips to try and limit his movements.

Your hands weren't quick enough though as they grabbed onto yours, easily overpowering your movement as you were flipped onto your back. A small huff forced its way out of your lips as you stared up at him, watching as his hair framed his face and he copied your earlier position, keeping you down.

"I win," Robby grinned, about to duck down and kiss you through your joint panting messes, though you didn't give him the chance, bucking your hips up and sending him launching over your head. Not expecting the movement, a startled yelp escapes his mouth as your positions once again switch.

"No," You correct, a smile of your own making its way onto your face. Robby didn't even look mad as he lay beneath you, grinning up at you with a fresh sheen of sweat coating his skin. "I win," You say before ducking down and connecting your lips.

"Hey," A voice bellowed through the dojo, making you and Robby shoot apart and turn to face the owner of it. "What have I said about making out in the dojo?"

"Dad!"

#robby keene #robby keene x reader #robby keene imagine #cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #reader x character #reader fic #female reader #reader insert #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer #eclipsing bingo #eclipsingbingo

819 notes · View notes

covenofagatha · 3 months ago

Note

now I've gotten your approval on g!p reader, here's the brainworm that's been wriggling with its fellow wormies. rather than desperate! agatha, let's try desperate! reader for a change:

(warning, this is an extra freaky worm. includes baby worms of humiliation, mommy kink, handjob to blowjob to fucking, bondage, 69 i think, pet play (collars and leashes), cock cage, handcuffs, overstim, rio in the last bit because i miss my babygirl ngl)

g!p reader who's awfully insecure about it, so delicate and innocent that agatha could just eat you up. she hadn't been the least bit fazed when you told her, though she would admit that it was rather hot to know she wouldn't need a strapon for the most part.

no, the best part of it all was when you'd confessed you hadn't used it before, not with another person -- and that was when her mind began to bubble with ideas on what she could do with you. the adorable thing you were, you'd looked to her for guidance, for approval, just to know how good you were doing. god, she needed to *ruin* you.

it starts off gentle, and she decides to slowly work you (and your tolerance) up, wrapping her fingers around your cock. you didn't even know it could get this hard, didn't know you could drip so much even before you came. she coos at your whimpers, and you fidget next to her, fiddling with the fabric of her shirt as you squeeze your eyes shut.

her fingers are so long, and the cool skin makes you shiver, and she huffs out a laugh next to you as you squirm under her. "i haven't even moved yet, baby" she hums, and you can't help but plead "mommy" because it's too much, the feeling unfamiliar yet so right, and it feels so good that you can't take it. you've never been this turned on before, never thought it could feel this good, and you realise with a start that if hands feel this good, you can't imagine how good her mouth, her cunt feels.

"mommy, please," you bury yourself into her shoulder, and she's looking so incredibly composed, not even a hair out of place, just sitting calmly next to you. the dichotomy between you and her sends you reeling, and if the dilation of her pupils is any indicator, she's enjoying it. "didn't know it- it could feel this good, mommy," and she groans lowly at your innocence.

agatha runs her thumb over the dribbling slit of your cock, whispering wickedly into your ear that "only mommy can make you feel this good with just a hand" and "you're so desperate for mommy, didn't even need to do anything". it's when she moves to spread the little droplets across her palm, then sliding it over your dick, the feeling of her skin on yours, and her only warning is a mewl of "mommy" before you splatter all over her floor, over her hand.

you might just shrivel up and die of embarrassment, if she didn't just raise an eyebrow and lick it all up, before planting a chaste kiss on your lips, where you taste yourself and you blast another load. agatha rolls her eyes affectionately, running her clean fingers through your hair, muttering about "what's mommy going to do with you, baby?" while you nuzzle yourself into her chest.

when you 'level up' to her mouth (she huffs at your childish antics each time, because of course you think of it like a highly esteemed video game, silly girl), she decides to combine it with your favourite meal: her cunt. you're tied to the bedposts, stripped down bare, and your cock is standing at attention, more rigid than a flagpost. she hasn't put her mouth on you yet, hovering above it as you lick and devour her pussy, groaning at the taste. agatha loves the way you listen to her, the way you get as worked up as she does despite not being touched.

"just a little deeper, baby, keep going, just like that," she guides you through it, grinding her clit against your nose bridge every so often. "such a good pet, fuck, so good for mommy," and you keen at the praise.

when she cums, you writhe under her, your attention now on your needy cock, and she uses her juices to coat it, mixing it with your dripping pre-cum. you mumble incoherently beneath her, and having been trained proper, don't bust immediately. she lowers her mouth over your cock, taking it in, and you swear loudly as the warmth envelopes you whole.

agatha's mouth is warm and wet, and she uses her tongue to swirl the sticky liquids together, and you attempt to buck your hips to no avail. "mommy, mommy, please" you babble, and she licks and licks stripes down your cock to your swollen balls.

she can't help herself, rutting into your phase out of pure need, the sight of you unraveling in mere seconds working her up again. your begging muffled by her cunt, she takes pity on you (it is still your first blow, after all) and takes your entire length in at once. your groan is gutteral, and in the approximately seven seconds it takes for your tip to hit the back of her throat, she has to pull away already; with one choked sound from her as she gags on your cock, to your utter horror and humiliation, you cum all over her face, rivulets dripping down the sides of her mouth, her cheeks, her nose.

you know you fucked up when her eyes narrow, brow raised at your defiance of cumming without her permission. "oh, pet, mommy's going to have fun with you."

the predicament you're in is... hard to describe, but to say the least. but, it truly is your fault for riling up agatha when you were already wearing so many.. possessions. a dark purple collar, complete with a green leash, and more importantly, a purple cage around your cock, locked shut with a tiny green lock. the key is tucked neatly into agatha's pocket, perhaps because agatha had already anticipated you flinging yourself at rio.

"daddy, please," you whine, draping an arm around rio, trailing kisses across her neck. she bites her lip, but one look at agatha's hardened glare makes her shake her head quickly. your cock strains against the cage, the stiff shape obvious in your pants (or skirt, where it's so very obvious to anyone who pays enough attention).

snarling, agatha stomps over, before gripping the leash and pulling hard. rio is left stunned, squirming in her seat (you know agatha slipped a remote vibrator into her underwear beforehand, and she must be getting it all wet now, the thought driving you feral) as you're tugged away from her.

agatha strips you hastily, biting into your soft skin as she kneads your tits, and you buck into the air, rio whining at the wet slap of your cock against the cage. you're left kneeling on the ground, brattiness stripped away as you blink up at her with doe eyes, wrists handcuffed together.

"mommy, i need you," you whine, but she growls out a "only good pets get touched" before moving to focus on rio. you can only watch needily as rio gets fucked, your only sense of relief being the occassional touch of your dick against the cool cage.

"mommy, mommy, please, I'll be good, I'm your good girl, please," you beg desperately, and she seems to ignore you in favour of playing with rio. eventually, after what feels like hours, she *looks* at you, and you can see the adoration in her eyes at the mess you've become.

"is that all it takes for you to be obedient, hmm? such a needy pet," and you could cry when she finally reaches and unlocks your cage and the handcuffs. "mommy," you croon, humping her forearm, and she mocks you condescendingly with "aww, pet. like a bitch in heat, aren't you?" while you nod furiously, babbling out "yes, yes" over and over.

when agatha guides you to the bed, you almost stumble in excitement, ignoring rio's snort of amusement. "she's a desperate little pup. we'll need to teach her how to handle a cunt."

you whine at the words, and the moment agatha's pussy hovers over yours, you scramble to grip her ass, whimpering as she tugs at your leash again, warning you to behave.

rio watches in disbelief as agatha lowers her pussy onto you, and in your fit of sensitivity, whine out a "can't hold it, mommy!" while she yanks your leash, agatha cooing out a "good girl, cum for me". in ten seconds, you fill agatha up with your cum, your throbbing cock forming a small belly bulge that when you rub your hand over, gets you all excited again, and you bust another load into her.

she can't believe it, honestly, that agatha's newest pet is so sensitive. rio watches as agatha rides out her high, riding your cock as you babble that it's "too much, mommy, please" while she demands that you "fucking take it".

she wonders what your cock would feel like in her.

lol, hope this isn't too much. I've been thinking about petplay for a while, so this is nice. i hope you liked it miss covenofagatha! once again don't feel obligated to write this out as a request, it is, as always, just a thought. thank you for the great writing you do 💜

-lots of love, worm anon

Holy FUCK

How do you keep coming up with the most brilliant ideas jesus christ

I actually started writing a virgin g!p reader one last night and it's gonna have some degradation and humiliation (very RomanGerri if there's any Succession fans out there) so hopefully that'll be up today BUT omg I am obsessed with these thoughts and just like every single one of your other ideas I might have to write about this 🫣 thank you so fucking much for blessing me and this fandom with your brainworms

#asks #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha x you #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut #brainworm

110 notes · View notes

emmmaa4 · 6 months ago

Note

I don’t know if you do male reader! But if you can please do make it that and if not do gender neutral.

Buttttt I would love a fic where Male reader just puts Jimmy (mouthwashing) in his place, just fucks the shit out of him really, give him a taste of his own medicine kind of thing, just rough sex.

I’ve love your work, and your writing is so amazing!! Take your time please if you do my ask 😭🙏

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for this proposal and for your words. I hope you and others like this fic. 💙

Male!Reader x Jimmy (mouthwashing)

⚠️ TW: NSFW, abuse, degradation..

"A taste of your own medicine"

I had entered into this 'great adventure' to feel better and to be a little more useful. I don't think I'm a bad guy, I just have a very strong sense of justice when it comes to the bad things that happen to me or, rather, to the people I like.

When one time, Anya, the Tulpar nurse had taken me alone to the infirmary, only to break down crying in front of me, almost screaming about how Jimmy had abused her, used her, as if she were just another piece of meat; something in me broke at that moment, I was furious. Even though I only tried to hug Anya and comfort her

"Please don't tell him anything! He'll kill me, I swear, he will..."

"Don't worry, I won't tell him anything, I promise Anya."

Of course that was a complete lie but honestly, I didn't want her to worry anymore. Curly was a corpse that could barely breathe, Swansea and Daisuke were just trying to do what they could to keep going; and on top of that, this idiot, in the end, ends up getting away with it like a slippery worm in the mud.

So, I just didn't think about it, I didn't want to think about it. Do I really have to think about it at this point when we're all about to die?! I don't think so. I looked for Jimmy, and I found him, he was almost hiding (so to speak), he was in the console room, this room was full of that white foam shit, Jimmy looked upset; I went in, closed the door behind me, the room was red because of the lights.

"You?! Get out of here, I'm making a plan because of your fault, because of Curl-"

He spat out his filthy words, thank god I'm a bit taller than him and fast too, I quickly punched him in the face, sending him crashing to the ground, the metal making a giant clatter. Jimmy gasped, his face scrunching up in anger, already getting up as he staggered to punch me. I grabbed him by his overalls, "Oh, don't you think you can, you little shit" - I quickly tackled him back onto the metal floor, chest face down, being crushed by my weight.

"You think you're a genius, without feeling guilty about all the things you've done?! Huh?!"

I grabbed him by his hair, lifting his head forcefully to whisper: "I'll make you taste a little of your own medicine.."

He gasped in shock, I used my hand to slam his head back into the cold ground, him gasping at the pain it caused him. I quickly tore with what I had of my strength, of my fury, his pants and pulled them down, I heard him scream beneath me but I quickly spanked him even though he had boxers on, he screamed loudly at this.

"Shhh... You like doing this to innocent people but you don't like it when it's done to you? Crying bitch..."

I started to hit his ass more, his body responded with small spasms, he also let out small gasps at my spankings. I got closer to his face, my mouth on his ear to whisper: "If you try to escape, I'll kill you."

I let go of Jimmy's hair, for a second I thought I saw tears in his psycho eyes as I got a little closer, I could only smile at the thought. I positioned myself behind him to tear the fabric of his boxers, his ass was already red; I couldn't help but bite my lower lip furiously, seeing so much pain from someone who had caused that same pain.

I started to hit him more, his ass turning a painful red, I heard Jimmy let out a scream out of nowhere causing me to quickly squeeze his ass with my big hands: "Shut up, you didn't let her scream, why I would let you then? Get your ass up."

Jimmy's hips shook but he still tried to lift them as best he could, I saw him turn his head slightly to the right to see me behind him, I saw a small dry tear come out of his eye. I would lower the zipper of my jumpsuit to take it off below my hips and take out my cock, resting it between Jimmy's two red and sore buttocks, he would jump when he felt it: "Oh, is the abuser sensitive?" I said with pure sarcasm, he dedicated himself to sticking his face to the floor. My cock began to harden, leaving pre-cum at the entrance of his ass, I would rest the tip of my member at the entrance, I decided to take just a few seconds to tell him with a furious voice: "I hope this hurts" - I slammed my penis inside his ass completely, without gentleness, without love, only fury and revenge.

Jimmy's little screams would sound all over the room, with the red consoles and that foam around. I would hear him gasp, I don't know if it was from pain or pleasure, I didn't care; I would pull out and bury my cock against his ass while I grabbed his red buttocks to hold him even if it hurt, I would hit him from time to time, just to take out the anger I have of him ON HIM.

"Stop! Stop please!"

"Oh no... we're going to be like this until you can't move anymore."

I grabbed his hair back so I could ram him deeper, my hair disheveled from moving so much, in a harsh way I grabbed his hips and rammed one last time, my balls would pucker as I would cum inside him, even being inside, still grabbing his hair I would guide his head so he would turn to look at me, he had saliva coming out of his mouth, along with dry and new tears coming out of his tear ducts; I got closer to his ear and whispered:

"Take responsibility Jimmy."

I threw his head against the ground, leaving him lying there, as I stood up to put on my overalls without a care in the world, I walked to the metal door, before leaving I gave him one last look; lying there, panting, having small spasms, and the worst? He had cum, his semen shot in his abdomen.

#anya mouthwashing #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing #jimmy x reader #mouthwashing game #smut #mouthwashing x reader #mouthwashing x you

183 notes · View notes

bellatrixobsessed1 · 1 month ago

Text

Petal By Petal

Summary: Azula is trying to feel like herself again. Mai and TyLee take her on a picnic.

Mai watches dragonflies. Azula counts the spaces between the cattails that surround the pond. TyLee skips stones. Azula counts the rigglets on the pond.

The world around smells like damp moss and burnt wood, the best of all of the elements. Azula digs her fingers into the soft dirt and hopes that she won’t find any worms. She doesn’t think that she is digging deep enough to worry about the things that wriggle. She finds it to be rather dull, their trips to the pond. But maybe that’s what she needs. Duller days.

“This is a red swampdragon. It’s a dragonfly that favors ponds and, of course, swamps.” Mai explains. “But they also like creeks…”

It’s kind of nice to hear her talk about things that interest her, she hadn’t done much of that when they were out chasing Zuzu and the Avatar. Mai says that it is nice to have someone to talk to—that Zuko listens, adds his input, and insists that he is intrigued. But she can tell that he’s not all that interested, that he seems to be a bit squeamish about bugs.

Azula is interested enough. She likes learning new things.

“And the bug by your hand…”

Azula jerks her hand back.

“...is completely harmless, it’s a firefly-grasshopper. When they jump, their bulbs glow. People usually confuse them for firefly-crickets.” Mai takes a seat next to Azula and holds her finger out, waiting for the firefly-grasshopper to crawl or leap onto her finger.

Azula looks away from Mai to where TyLee busies herself chasing a moth-mantis.

“Here, why don’t you try to hold it.”

Azula rubs her lips together. “I…well. I suppose. Just don’t let it hop onto my face.”

“That’s not up to me.” Mai says as she holds the grasshopper firefly out.

“I thought that these were nocturnal.” Azula touches her pointer to Mai’s.

“Nope. You’re thinking of the firefly-crickets.”

“Then what do they have bulbs for?”

Mai is more than delighted to explain. “To ward off predators. The flash their bulbs when a predator gets too close and if the predator is something like an arachnid it will be temporarily blinded.”

Azula nods. “Fascinating.” Her tone falls a bit flat, but she does mean it. She hopes that Mai understands that. But she is still tired sometimes, still worn out and…

And sometimes she wonders if she will ever truly feel like herself again.

She wonders if Mai and TyLee will start to get sick or bored of her by the time she does.

She knows that she probably shouldn’t be poking at the firefly-grasshopper if she doesn’t want it hopping onto her face, but she is curious about how that little bulb feels.

“Hey look! I found a ladybee!” TyLee calls. Azula wishes that she could muster up a fraction of that enthusiasm.

“You should probably leave that alone if you don’t want to get stung.” Azula says.

“Ladybees don’t sting.” Mai replies. “Bumblebees might sting you but only if you bother them.”

TyLee giggles. “They’re like you, Azula!”

Azula cracks a smile. “Yeah, I guess. Maybe.” She reaches for the small pitcher of dandelion wine that rests on their picnic blanket. It sits next to the plate of watermelons that she had cautioned TyLee to cover up before the ants that now crawl over it could get to it. Azula sighs, she guesses that she won’t be having any more watermelon slices.

“Want another glass?”

“No thanks.”

She probably shouldn’t have one either, she would hate to have Mai or TyLee have to drag her home clumsy and stumbling. She pours herself only a half a glass. She doesn’t want to be like her grandfather anymore than just her name.

“Rough day?” Mai asks.

Azula shakes her head. No rougher than any other day. All things considered it has been a pretty good day. She shouldn’t be so glum. “It’s a fine day. I guess that I’m just…” trying to claw her way back up. She climbs excruciatingly slowly.

TyLee plops down next to her and takes her hand. She gives it a squeeze. The firefly-grasshopper propels itself off of her other hand and right onto her head. She jerks and goes rigid. “Mai! Remove the insect from my head!”

Mai chuckles.

She grimaces. She can feel its little legs shifting strands of her hair. Through gritted teeth and in a pitch a touch higher than she’d like she says, “Mai…”

“I know, I’ve got it.”

And she does. She gently untangles the firefly-grasshopper from Azula’s hair and returns it to the grass.

“I didn’t realize that you were scared of bugs.” Mai lifts a brow.

“I’m not afraid of them, I just don’t like them in my hair or on my face or…” She might be a little afraid of bugs.

“I think that the ladybees are cute. The caterpillars too! Oh and that caterpillbugs.” TyLee declares.

Azula has yet to figure out which ones are the caterpillars and which are the caterpillbugs. She wonders how long of hanging out with Mai it had taken TyLee to begin to identify them without having to ask Mai. Not that Azula minds asking. In fact it makes conversation easier when she finds that words aren’t coming to her very readily.

She leans herself upon Mai’s shoulder and TyLee leans against hers. They stay like that for quite a while watching the clouds drift by. It feels kind of like the old days. When they were kids on the playground of the Academy. A breeze rustles the grass and for a moment she can pretend like it has always been like this. That there hadn’t been anything between their playground days and this moment. That she hadn’t been so lost and so alone for so long. That her her heart and mind haven’t been bruised and bandaged, hemorrhaging and then stitched. Sometimes she fears that the wounds won’t heal and that her soul will be covered in bandages for the rest of her days. She squeezes Mai and TyLee’s hands. The clouds float on by, untroubled.

And then shades of pink and orange begin to appear on the horizon.

“Ready to go home, bumblebee?” Mai nudges her.

And Azula manages a laugh. A light, lilting thing.

The sound of it is unfamiliar even to her, she hasn’t made it in quite a while.

TyLee is beaming from ear to ear. Mai smiles too. She holds out her hand and helps Azula to her feet. And Azula helps TyLee to hers.

“I’ll shake out the blanket.” Azula says. “But I’m not touching that ant infested plate.”

“That is TyLee’s job.” Mai side the woman in question. “We told her to cover that plate up.”

TyLee gives a mock pout but makes her way over to the plate and dumps the ants and their watermelon slices into the tall grass for the animals to eat. Azula shakes out and neatly folds the blanket before tucking it back into the picnic basket. Mai loads the uneaten food and some utensils on top of that. The three of them scan the grass for anything that they might have left behind.

TyLee takes Azula’s left hand and Mai takes her right.

And they begin their hike back to the palace, three silhouettes against a sunset.

“Today was nice.” She muses aloud.

She feels a bit better. A bit lighter.

“Yeah.” Mai agrees.

“We can do it again next week.” TyLee says.

“I would like that.” Azula nods.

“Are you going back to the flower shop with Mai?”

Azula nods. “Where will you be?”

“Here and there.” TyLee replies. It is a very TyLee answer. “But I’ll be sure to be here and not there by next week.”

They reach the flower shop in what seems to her like such a short time. And TyLee is pecking both she and Mai on the cheek and makes a third promise to show up bright and early a week from now. Mai tells her that bright and midafternoon would work just fine too.

Azula laughs again.

Sometimes she doesn’t have much to add to the conversation.

But she is alright with that. She just likes hearing their voices and being surrounded by people again.

She and Mai watch TyLee disappear down the road where several Kyoshi Warriors meet her.

“Tea?” Mai offers.

Azula nods. Mai doesn’t have to ask. They always check on the flowers and then take tea before bed. The routine helps. Little by little, petal by petal, outing by outing, and laugh by laugh, Mai and TyLee help her piece herself back together.

#Azula #Mai #TyLee #Maizulee #Avatar the Last Airbender #Fanfiction #One Shot

61 notes · View notes