#and there's like pinching and pressing a pattern of spots on my hand and fingers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jisokai · 5 months ago

Text

Green Curse

Your friends care about you, much more than you think. Unfortunately it takes the worst possible first time trying weed for you to realize it.

kirishima eijirou & sero hanta x GN reader [implied first/second years] drug use (edibles), reader is anxious and an overthinker, descriptions of dissociation, slight suicidal ideation, touch-starved reader, implied smaller reader, lots of hurt and lots of comfort 10.9k words | oneshot, complete, can be standalone part 3 of a sort-of-series: "healing my inner teenager" (this fic's reader is NOT compatible with reader in the universe of [part 1] and [part 2])

notes: I feel like a lot of fics with substances never touch on these kinds of experiences (& if they do it's for humor instead of processing) so this one's for ME & anyone else with arguably traumatic first times smoking/taking edibles 👍

ao3 option

Kaminari’s room is boisterous as your friends settle on his bed to cozy up for the evening. You sit quietly on his carpet, back pressed against the mattress behind you. Your fingers brush through the soft fibers, tracing its dark pattern as you listen in to the various conversations around you—Mina and Kirishima curiously taking guesses at how it’ll feel to get high, Bakugou grumbling about being the babysitter, Sero and Jirou arguing over what movie they want to watch. You don’t make an effort to engage, even when you feel an opening, instead flitting your eyes between the different spots where people have congregated. You notice that nobody tries to pull you in.

It’s a delicate dance for you, being in this group. They welcome you easily, always happy to have you around, but you aren’t sure why. You don’t talk much, not unless asked, and even then you instantly regret answering—assuming you said too much or the wrong thing. Sometimes Kaminari finds an opening for a joke in your response, and the laughs that course through the others make you feel very, very small.

You confided in Kirishima once, during internship patrols—likely the reason you started getting invites in the first place. His bright attitude brings you ease, knowing he only thinks well of others, and his encouraging personality is a relief to the delicate glass of your self-esteem. You hadn’t meant for it, but the conversation somehow found you unfurling your insecurities. He looked at you sadly when you explained how the larger friend group puts you on edge, makes you hyper aware of yourself and your shortcomings. You’ve spent the past few weeks carefully skirting around him and the topic, incapable of handling more pitiful gazes.

You ignore him now, too, as you feel his eyes from where he’s seated with Mina on the bed. You focus your attention on Kaminari's shelves, observing the collections of hats and shoes. It’s a tacky space, you think, but the array of jarring colors and patterns make sense somehow.

You are jolted from your thoughts when said tacky host appears in front of you. He’s crouched with half a brownie in his hand, outstretched to you.

“Want first bite?” he asks. You nod and thank him quietly as you pinch the sides of the dessert, avoiding the brush of fingers. He continues. “It’s only half, since it’s your first time. You can have some more later if you don’t feel anything.”

He stands to offer brownies to those on the bed. You sniff yours carefully and notice that it’s unassuming, even when you take a bite and slowly chew.

“How’s it taste?” Mina asks from above you. You crane your neck to see where she sits beside Kirishima, who’s tearing a brownie in half for them to share.

You cover your mouth as you speak, feeling the gooeyness cling to your teeth. The chocolate is dark and there are chunks of fudge, a favorite of yours. “Normal. Good.”

Mina grins excitedly in response and eats her half in one go, straight from Kirishima’s hand. She hums in agreement. “Ooooh, they’re delicious!”

Kaminari nods proudly. “I only source the best, y’know!”

You finish your half shortly and glance towards the others. You hear Sero ask about the dosage and strain, and watch as he and Jirou both eat a whole brownie, then split an additional one. Kaminari downs one happily and removes another before closing the bag. You wonder if this is routine for them, and suddenly you are too aware of your inexperience. A course of shame rolls from your stomach to your shoulders, a choppy ocean wave. Once again you feel small—a speck of dust on the carpet. You think it’s silly, to be ashamed for not indulging in substances, but these are your cool friends that you don’t want to be lame around, at least not more than you already are.

You want to curl into yourself, a ball of arms around legs, but a tap on your head shakes you from your spiral. It’s Mina, pouting from above.

“Whatcha still doing down there?” She asks. You see the others piled on Kaminari’s bed—all but the blond himself, grabbing a deck of cards from the shelf.

“Sitting,” you say blankly.

She rolls her eyes and gives your shirt a tug, then pats the space next to her. “Sit here!” she instructs. Kirishima nods in your peripheral.

So you stand, just enough to get your hands and knees on the bed, and crawl next to her by the headboard. You avoid touching the pillows, and pull your knees tightly into your chest. Kaminari follows, plopping next to you. He’s cross-legged, knee bumping into your calf, and you tense at the contact. He doesn’t notice, busy shuffling the cards. Some of the others move, adjusting to make an evenly spaced circle of people. Mina shifts away from you and you scoot in the same direction, giving Kaminari additional room.

The game passes energetically, with loud reactions as some of your friends target one another. You’re not very competitive, but strategizing helps you focus on something other than your discomfort.

After a few rounds, Sero checks in. “How are you all feeling? It’s been about a half hour.”

Mina grins lazily beside you. “M’definitely feeling something.”

She turns to you and you shake your head. You feel normal. Or, your normal.

Kaminari hmph’s and looks to Kirishima. “What about you man?”

The redhead scratches his head and purses his lips. “Maybe?”

Kaminari hops off the bed and reaches for the bag on his desk. He pulls out another brownie and tears it in half. You take the one he hands you, slightly smaller than the other. You glance at Sero and Jirou while you chew, trying to decipher if either of them are affected. Jirou notices your stare and shakes her head.

“Takes me a while to feel it,” she explains. “But I’ll be faded in a couple hours. Sero’s the opposite.” You note his already red-tinted eyes.

“Skill issue,” he says. Kaminari nods solemnly.

Jirou rolls her eyes. “That doesn't even make sense.”

You look away, chest heavy as their banter draws on. You wish you were close like that, with any of them. They’re familiar and comfortable in each other’s space. You may have catalyzed a potential closeness with Kirishima, when you unpromptedly spilled out your insecurities regarding his friends. But all that resulted in was a weird tension that hangs between you two—one entirely due to your own embarrassment. What is wrong with you?

You accidentally look his way and see the slightest crease of his brow, his eyes trained on you. You glance past him and to Mina, then the cards sprawled in the middle of the bed.

“Let’s just watch the movie,” you hear Sero say. “It’ll definitely kick in after a couple hours.”

A wave of hums passes through the air as everyone agrees. Kaminari stands to turn on his desktop while Sero moves to switch off the lights. The room darkens save for the glow of the computer, Kaminari searching for the movie in question. The others shift, getting comfortable for the hours to come. You turn so your back rests against the wall, and Mina presses into your side as the others scoot up to see the monitor better. You try to relax into the touch, but it’s foreign, her arm warm against yours.

Suddenly Sero is crawling up from the foot of the bed and grabbing one of the pillows by your side. He then sets it in front of you and lays on his side. Mina brings her knees over his torso while Bakugou grunts and nudges his legs aside for space. You pull yours close against you, body tense to avoid brushing against his hair. Kaminari huffs when he turns and sees the arrangement. He starts the movie and grabs a few snacks before nestling in the space between you and the headboard, legs outstretched by the top of Sero’s head. He opens one bag and tosses the others blindly to the others. He is squished up against you and gently taps your forearm, gesturing to his bag of chocolate-covered pretzels. You mumble, “thanks,” and take a small handful.

The movie is good. It’s not the kind you would volunteer to watch, but it gives you something to focus on and keep the attention of the others away from you. At the halfway mark you notice a cloudiness settling into your mind and body. Your legs strain from the prolonged effort to hold them close, joints and muscles prickling beneath your skin. With a nervous heart you shuffle your feet forward, just before Sero’s head, and feel the slightest relief. You try to wiggle backwards, for additional room, but you’re already pressed against the wall.

Mina notices and frowns in confusion. You don’t realize you’re sporting a pained expression, and hers morphs into concern. She whispers, “You okay?”

“Just cramped,” you whisper back. Your eyes widen when she pulls her legs up and gives Sero’s back a shove. He turns to her curiously.

“Stop hogging their space,” she says, and your stomach clenches at the word choice.

You start shaking your head, to protest, when Sero’s eyes move to you. He just says, “oh,” and squirms towards the edge of the bed. “Sorry. This better?”

Your feet slide forwards, letting your thighs and calves relax, and you nod with a quiet, “thanks.” Sero hums and turns back to the screen, unbothered. Your shoulders drop in relief.

The movie draws on, but by the end you feel like it just started. It isn’t until Mina stirs next to you that you realize you’re leaning against her, and it isn’t until you right yourself that you realize your inebriation. Your body feels like it’s moving through deep, sticky honey as you sit up straight, and your head is unbelievably heavy. It tilts to the side as if in danger of falling. You pull it back, overcompensating, and it thuds loudly against the wall. A thrum of pain reverberates behind you and your vision floods with white static.

Your cheeks flush as you try to blink your sight back to normal. Kaminari giggles beside you, deepening your blush.

“You good?” he asks, voice filled with mirth.

You nod slowly, head unsteady on your neck. Your eyes rest halfway open and you swallow before grimacing. You smack your lips at the dryness of your mouth.

Kaminari giggles again and moves towards the desk. “Cottonmouth?”

You’ve never heard the phrase, but you nod. He hands you your water bottle from the desk and then grabs his computer mouse, clicking rapidly. The screen flashes white and you watch as you slowly unscrew the lid of your water. The fluorescence fills your vision sharply, similar to when you smacked your head moments ago, and it makes your perception of the room feel warped—flattened. You blink rapidly as you try to recover a sense of normalcy, but it causes your peripheral to spin.

You tear your eyes from the screen and look at the bottle in your lap. Your grip on the lid is weak, and when you try to squeeze harder your hand tingles—almost tickles. Almost painful. You work gently, using the friction of your palm instead. It comes off eventually, but then you are struck by the new set of obstacles that come with bringing it to your lips and drinking.

Luckily the others are preoccupied with their conversations, drifting softly behind you as if in another room. You wonder if time is passing as slowly for them as it is for you, if they’re similarly encased in molasses. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you assume it’s movie commentary. You can hardly remember what you just watched, the contents years away in your memory. What happened in the meantime? Where have all those minutes run off to?

Once you manage a few sips—with thankfully minimal spillage on your shirt—you set the bottle down and take deep breaths as you put the cap back on. It brings attention to your racing heart, thumping wildly. You think it might explode, which only quickens it further. Your solution is to curl into where Kaminari sat moments ago. You close your eyes and try to convince your body to relax. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work.

You don’t know how long you lay there, attempting to control your heart and breath. You conjure images of the ocean, of the wind—sturdy beings that breathe slowly, regularly. You try to imagine the galloping horse of your heart to soften to a trot, then eventually a delicate walk through a meadow.

A gentle hand lands on your arm, causing you to stir with panic. Your body is tense as you spot Kirishima, large and red, standing by your end of the bed. His arm is outstretched but pulling back, and his face is full of concern—eyebrows creased upwards and lip jutting in a pout.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks softly.

You clutch the water bottle against your chest tighter, noticing that you’ve been cradling it in your fetal position. You aren’t okay, you realize. But this is Kirishima, the one you accidentally shared your embarrassingly low self-esteem with. He looked at you so pitifully for it, you can’t handle whatever reaction he’ll have if you say you think you’re dying.

So you nod, slowly, eyes still wide.

His eyes pinch and his lips press into a tight line. He looks pained. But he nods slowly in return before glancing at the others. You watch, the seconds passing dreadfully. You think you can see the way his movements smear across your vision, his afterimages in the bluelight.

In an attempt to give credibility to your act, you decide to sit up, to at least pretend you’re part of the conversation. You press up weakly and a wave of nausea rolls up from your belly. You panic at the sensation and take a shaky breath, as quietly as you can. Kiri’s eyes follow you, coating your skin uncomfortably.

You try to conjure your most unbothered expression as you mumble, “Just tired.” You catch the gaze of the others, but no one is scrutinizing you the way your red haired friend is. You summon all your willpower to appear attentive and normal.

You take note of them as best you can. Kaminari and Sero appear unfazed, as if they never got high in the first place. Mina’s words come out slowly and drawn out, with small bursts of giggles in between, and her cheeks are nearly red. Jirou sleeps deeply at the end of the bed. Bakugou looks annoyed—you internalize as perhaps specifically annoyed with you—and he’s the next one to speak.

“If everyone’s fine I’m fuckin’ goin’ to bed.” You don’t catch the next part, but it has more colorful language and the mention of babysitting teenagers.

Kaminari giggles while he watches the blond roughly shove his things in his pockets. Just before he slams the door, Kaminari teases, “I know you had fun with us!”

Mina laughs, soft chuckles from Sero and Kirishima follow. The five of you are huddled in a misshapen circle, not unlike the arrangement before the movie. After the giggles die down, Kaminari’s eyes sweep over you and your friends, assessing their conditions.

“I’m glad it’s kicked in. Does anyone have anything they wanna do next?” He asks.

You scan the faces around you, all holding the same indifferent expressions—shrugging or pursing their lips in thought. Kaminari appears shy, and you give him a curious look.

He smiles sheepishly and pulls his shoulders to his ears. “Shinsou messaged me,” he says. “I was thinking of heading over to his, but I don’t wanna ditch.”

Mina laughs and then hums in amusement. A light blush blooms over the blond’s face. “I am fully supportive of you ditching to be with your lover boy, personally,” she says with a dramatic sigh. The other two nod enthusiastically, and you give him a little shrug.

His face lights up at the response and he giddily stands from the bed. “Shit, okay yeah.” He rummages for his things. “Thanks guys, you can still hang here or whatever—”

The rest is a smear in your memory, the strength of your focus exhausted after a few minutes. You let your eyes cloud and your body accept its heaviness as you drone out the rest of Kaminari’s words. When he leaves you mumble a ‘bye’—or maybe it was ‘good luck’—but let your mind remain hazy.

You don’t know how much time passes, how to gauge it. Your three conscious friends continue to chat softly about benign topics, and you can only muster an occasional hum or slight tweak of your face in reaction. You don’t notice when their eyes watch you closely, instead convinced of your own invisibility, from your inability to push yourself to say something. You’re certainly high right now, and it would be fatal to say something stupid, something for them to laugh at while you forget it in the morning. It’s safer here, curled over yourself, knees and shins protecting your delicate heart.

At some point you notice you are no longer inside your body. When you glance down to your knees, you find you’re instead looking at the top of your head. You see yourself, your smallness, surrounded by your friends happily enjoying themselves. You panic, mind and body frozen at the sight. A coldness seeps into your skin, but the chill is distant. You can see how your friends are thoroughly engaged without you.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach—though your stomach is an abstract idea at this point—at the realization that your presence makes no difference. You are invisible, more so than Hagakure, with your timid personality. You swallow, feeling a heavy lump in the base of your throat—another abstract idea. You watch closely, take note of everyone’s eyes as they jump back and forth between one another and chat exuberantly. They giggle, stick their tongues out, roll their eyes. At each other, not you.

What are you doing here?

Maybe you should leave, leave and never come back. How did you get invited in the first place? Do these people actually like you, or do they feel bad watching you isolate yourself from the class? Your abstract stomach churns with a swirling mix of rage and shame.

You sit and watch, continue to scrutinize. You don’t say a word. You let yourself drift away.

After what could be minutes or hours—either a reasonable estimate to your brain—you feel the urge to use the bathroom. The task is mountainous, an entire excursion requiring careful planning and meticulous execution, but one that has to be done. It also offers a reprieve from your social dilemma. That serves as motivation enough to shift yourself to the edge of the bed and stand.

A wave of dizziness rushes through you. You watch, still as an outsider, as your body nearly topples over. Your hand reaches the desk in time to steady yourself, hyper aware of the eyes in the room. You play off your stumble casually, and lift your hand from the crutch prematurely.

“Bathroom,” you mumble and quickly exit the room.

The dorm hall is another beast. As soon as you turn from the door to the open space, you are confronted by your inability to process dimension. The hall is stretched into what appears to be an entire day’s journey. It makes your heart race again, anxious at the prospect of finding your way alone. You squint, attempting to count the number of doors you’ll pass, but they’re too small in your hazy vision.

You take a careful step forward, imagining yourself a blind elder fumbling through the forest, and drag your hand along the wall as you trek to the bathroom. The door at the end of the hall gets ever so closer, a small victory. You struggle to regulate your breathing throughout the process.

Using the bathroom is another challenge, one that also happens at a snail’s pace. You sit yourself in the stall for an eternity, leaning with your head against the wall. You close your eyes and take deep breaths. It helps center you, guide your essence back into the void of your body. Your mind is racing, running through muck, but it feels back in your own head.

You try your best to reflect on your dissociation in Kaminari’s room. Maybe it’d be best to distance yourself for a while, give yourself some space. Bakugou said he didn’t like babysitting, and that’s probably how the others feel about you always tagging along quietly. You remember Kirishima’s worried glances, how he always looks like he wants to fuss over you. Your cheeks flare in embarrassment, at being perceived as some helpless child. You recall how Sero and Jirou wordlessly split their edible, a practiced routine. There’s already a flow there, a vibe that you don’t fit into.

You should leave them alone.

Standing up brings another dizzy spell, but the small perimeter of the stall offers support. You fumble with your pants and flush the toilet before exhaling and exiting. You wash your hands slowly, let the sensation of the water remind you that you’re back in your own body, and then cup some to your lips. The contact tingles, and you’re numb to the way it drips down your chin and shirt. You scoop another handful and splash it over your cheeks.

When you look up, you’re confronted by a face only inches from yours. It takes you a moment to register that you’re looking at yourself. You see your red eyes and ruffled hair, your skin angrily painted red. You realize you’ve been crying the whole time, an unexpected but familiar sight.

Seeing yourself like this, head on but flipped in the view of the mirror, you stare. You watch your own eyebrows furrow as you search deep in your eyes, the way your lips part and exhale. You wonder who you are, if this is really you. Once again you wonder what you’re doing here. Not just in the dorm bathroom, high out of your mind. Not just in this friend group, one that would be better without you. Not even in UA, on the hero course, treading towards a future you aren’t prepared for.

What are you doing here, on earth. Existing.

You watch yourself cry, face pinching tight. Your eyebrows scrunch down and your nose tugs up with your lips. You watch your own eyelids squeeze shut before you sit in blackness, feeling only the distant sensation of salty water rolling down your cheeks.

Your legs give out. Before you know it you are a puddle of fabric and skin, melting to eventually lay on your side. You don’t hear yourself sob, choked noises sputtering on the cool tile. You don’t know how long it takes for your cries to die, but eventually you calm and turn to lay on your back. You soak in the cold ground below you, once again floating above and looking down on yourself.

This is how Sero finds you. He gently knocks on the door before letting himself in, immediately spotting you on your back, taking slow breaths—face flushed and tear-stained, with bloodshot eyes. He blanches at the sight and rushes over. He scans the ground for hints, but it’s clean.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks gently. You look at him blankly. “Did you throw up?” you shake your head. “Did you fall?” you shrug.

He sighs. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head again.

“Let’s get you up then,” he says, and you avert your eyes.

You miss the way his face falls. “Hey, really. Are you okay?” he asks again, still gentle despite his firmness. “You can tell me if you’re having a hard time.”

You don’t feel how your face twists in a grimace. You close your eyes and shake your head gently, slowly. Even when you blink them open again, you won’t look his way.

There’s a moment of quiet before he speaks. “I’m guessing you’re overwhelmed, we probably gave you too much. It’ll pass, okay? You won’t be stuck like this. Why don’t you come back and wait it out with the others? I think you’ll be more comfortable there.”

You look at him this time, sporting that pained expression, and shake your head.

It’s quiet while you watch him think. Eventually he asks, “Do you want to be alone?”

You immediately nod.

Another moment passes, his lips pressed in a thin line. “I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you alone,” he tells you. “But we can just hang out the two of us, okay? And we can do our own thing, not bother each other if you want. But I’m gonna make sure you have company.”

Your eyes glaze with tears and you curl away, facing him with your back.

“Hey,” he tries again. “I know we aren’t that close, but you can trust me, okay? Or I can get Kiri for you instead.”

He hears you exhale loudly and make a grunt of disagreement. He waits, crouched on the floor for you to elaborate. You eventually shift so he can see your face, shooting him a nervous look.

“Alone, please.”

“It’ll just be an hour with us,” Sero presses. “To make sure the peak passes.”

You stare ahead, pensively. “Just you,” you say. A flash of surprise crosses his features. “Just an hour.”

He nods in satisfaction. “Yep, exactly. Now let's get up, yeah?”

The process is far from easy or short, but Sero handles it gracefully. He doesn’t rush you when you say you need another moment, and he’s patient as you adjust to sitting and then standing. His hand hovers over your backside, not making contact, but prepared in case you stumble. You walk slowly down the hall and eventually to the door of Kaminari’s room.

“I’ll grab our stuff and then we’ll go to yours.”

You nod and stay in the hall as Sero steps inside. You hear him huff a laugh and say, “Did she really fall asleep too?”

“They okay?” Kirishima immediately asks, ignoring the question.

“Yeah,” Sero responds calmly. You hear sounds of shuffling. “A little out of it, I think we didn’t wait long enough before the first check in. I’m gonna chill in their room while they come down. Sorry to end things early.”

There’s a muffled grunt. “Are they in their room now? Can I come with?”

Your breath catches from behind the door, heart stirring.

The shuffling pauses. “Uhh…I’m not sure. I don’t wanna make it overwhelming.”

Rustling starts again, a weight lifting from the bed, and your heart thrums when you hear Sero’s voice get closer. “Man, I really wouldn’t push—”

Kirishima is in the doorframe, turning his head and then his body when he sees you. You try to stomp out your nerves at the sight of him and bring your hand up to wave awkwardly.

He visibly deflates, you wonder if in disappointment. “Oh, hey!” he says loudly, then widens his eyes at the volume. “Sorry,” he whispers, “Was hoping to catch you. Sero said you aren’t feeling well? I—”

You don’t hear the rest, eyes locked on his while he speaks. The usual white around his irises has a red tint, but it’s the only noticeable sign that he’s high. He sounds normal, chatting easily. You pout, remembering that you ate the same amount as him earlier. Why are you the only one dying?

Suddenly Kirishima is looking concerned, eyes wide and furrowed like that pitied gaze. As you tune back in you hear: “Shit, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to make you cry—”

You’re crying? You bring a hand to your cheek and pull away shining fingertips. You hear a sob, and then moments later realize it was you. Your vision blurs and you feel the faintest sliding of tears down your face. You bring your hands back up to wipe them away, but they pour faster in response. You see the blur of Kirishima’s panicked face, layered with confliction.

Why are you crying? you berate. Kirishima doesn’t deserve this: your messy, unpredictable spilling of emotions. Your skin heats in embarrassment, reddening with shame. Your hands shake as they continue to brush the tears away. You barely manage to stutter out an apology.

There’s a gentle touch on your arm. It’s warm, comforting, somewhat hesitant. Not meant for you, you think. Your crying continues, unchanged.

Suddenly you are tugged into an embrace of warmth. Your face presses against a soft cotton shirt, balmy and firm from the chest beneath it. Additional heat crawls around your waist and back from strong arms holding you close. You are so shocked from the gesture that your crying pauses, though only for a moment.

Then you cry harder, sobs wracking through the length of your body as you bury your head into the safety of Kirishima’s chest. You can feel him tense, his grip starting to loosen around you. Panic bubbles through you, and before you register your actions you are gripping his shirt—shoving your face further into him. His arms return their hold, tighter this time, and you respond by releasing his shirt to sneak your hands around his waist. When he doesn’t let go, you squeeze harder.

(Sero’s eyes widen from the doorway at the sight. Kirishima shoots him a look that could almost be considered a glare, but Sero shakes his head quickly.)

Suddenly you are hoisted upwards, your arms forcibly pulled from Kirishima’s torso to be replaced with your legs. Your head comes to rest in the crook of his neck and you bury it there, the wetness of your eyes and cheeks sticky against his skin. You’re embarrassed and eager for comfort, enough to disregard your remaining pride. You inhale shakily, lulled by the smell of a typical men’s soap mixed with a tang and the warmth of dust. Your body sways gently as he walks towards the elevator, the rock of a boat on calm water. It pours some stillness into your body. Your teary eyes raise over a large shoulder to see Sero trailing behind, watching with a guilty expression. You shove your head back down at the accidental eye contact.

The journey to your room is long, and you only realize it was the destination when you feel Kirishima sit and lower you onto his thighs—one large hand splayed against your back for stability. When your head is freed from the crease of his neck, you see your decorated wall behind him and the duvet of your bed. You lean back to offer him space, and let your eyes trail over the room. It’s yours, exactly how you left it. Except for Kirishima on your bed and Sero standing by the door, dumping everyone’s belongings on your desk.

When you look back at Kirishima he’s smiling softly, somewhat sheepishly. He speaks in a quiet and low voice. “Do you want me to move?”

It takes a few seconds to understand what he means, that he’s not sure if you’re comfortable in his lap like this. You look down at the tops of his thighs, noticing how he seated you by his knees—far from his hips. When you look back up his face is pink, and you flush at the implications of your staring.

Your answer is no. You want to tell him, but admitting it is impossible. You can’t get yourself to tell him yes, either.

He watches you closely before asking cautiously, “Is it okay if I stay like this?”

You nod easily at the reframing of the question, and he smiles gently. A tap on your shoulder draws your attention behind you, to Sero offering you some water. You take it and chug, only now noticing your thirst.

“Can I sit here too?” Sero asks, pointing to the bed. You nod while drinking.

You toss the bottle to the side when you finish, and meet Kirishima’s eyes tensely. The awkwardness starts to sweep over you, remembering that you’re sitting in his lap in the quiet room, both him and Sero watching you closely. Your mind is still cloudy, your body slow in sticky air. But you’re not alone in the bathroom. You aren’t sure if this is better or worse.

“Pretty hazy, huh?” Sero’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You nod and he hums. “We’ll just hang with you while it passes, okay?”

“‘Kay,” you mumble. You look back to Kirishima and are given more smiles. While guilt still rests heavily in your stomach, you can’t help the feathery tickle of happiness in your chest. It’s selfish, you think, to have them like this—especially after your declaration to yourself in the bathroom—but you can’t get yourself to care. Your face curls into a slight smile, and it makes Kirishima beam.

It’s too much. His joy grabs your stomach in a tight fist and you have to look away. You feel eyes on you, and pull your head down to ignore them.

The hand on your back treads up and down carefully, soothingly. In a moment you are pressed gently into Kirishima’s chest, and you graciously take cover, hiding your face. His other hand glides around your waist and pulls you close. Warmth washes over you, the comfort of morning coals still hot from a night fire. It would relax you completely, if you weren’t on edge from your newfound closeness with your friend.

“Let us know if you need anything,” Kirishima’s voice rumbles through his chest. It reminds you of the distant rolling of a storm. “Anything, okay?”

You can only nod into his shirt, not willing to make eye contact. Your cheek presses against his heart, its beat thumping through your mind. It’s loud, like uncontained joy filling a room. But it’s slow, steady. You lean into it, let it set your rhythm for breathing. You inhale as four pulses pass, then exhale for five.

Time still treads slowly, wading through fog, but you notice you don’t resume your bathroom spiraling. You wonder if the heat of your friendly company is keeping you afloat. You wonder if it’s just postponing the eventual continuation of your drowning. You hear shuffling on your bed, Sero getting comfortable as he takes out his phone. Kirishima diligently rubs your back as he takes even breaths, the deep humming of his lungs pairing calmly with his heart.

Your mind wanders to gentler places, wondering why you deserve such care. Your heart deflates at the thought that it’s from pity—Kirishima’s sad eyes still haunting your memory. You don’t realize that your shoulders have tensed until a large hand trails up to softly coax them to relax. You exhale and let them fall.

It continues like this, Kirishima noticing your every movement, bringing attention to when you become rigid or unstable. He doesn’t say anything, only moves his hands to be a reminder, to your body and how it reacts to your emotions, your overthinking. Only when you feel settled in your skin, cradling the familiar weight of your own bones and flesh, do you realize how detached you were. You hadn’t actually re-entered yourself since you first looked at the top of your own head, only adjusted enough for it to feel normal. You wonder if that’s your default, if you ever feel embodied the way you are now. A long time passes, but it gets more comfortable the longer you sit in your friends hold.

You shift suddenly, from Kirishima adjusting himself. You bring your head up to look at him and he offers you an awkward smile.

“Need to use the bathroom,” he says quietly. A slight pang of disappointment runs through you, but you nod and lean to the side, catching yourself on the bed so he can get up. He stands slowly and gives each leg a moment to stretch. You make a face when his knees pop.

He smiles at you before turning to the door. “I’ll be right back, okay?” You hope he means the hugging, not just being in your room.

You nod as he exits. Your eyes linger on the door, body in a trance, until a dip of the mattress brings your attention to your side. It’s Sero, sitting up. He drops his phone on the bed, eyes focused on you.

“How’re you holding up?”

Your eyes fall to the duvet underneath you, fingers picking at invisible lint. “Better,” you answer.

“Good.” There’s an awkward pause before he continues. “Sorry I didn’t try harder to stop him earlier.”

You frown, brow furrowed in confusion.

He returns the look. “You said just me, in the bathroom,” he reminds you. “I didn’t know you weren’t so comfortable with him. Though I’m kind of glad he came anyway.”

Your frown deepens. “He doesn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” he says. He looks like he wants to probe further.

“He…” you start, then pause. You look down as you continue, “I just don’t want him to be nice because he feels bad.”

“Wha—” Sero cuts himself off in disbelief. You miss his shocked face as you continue to pick at the blanket cover. “Hey, Kiri might have a strong moral compass, but he’s not your friend out of pity—none of us are.”

Your nose stings as you listen, eyes blinking carefully to prevent tears from spilling over. Your fist clenches the duvet tight enough to send prickles up your arm. A slender hand reaches to cover yours, urging it to relax.

“Hey,” he says gently. “I mean it. And I’m sorry if it hasn’t felt that way.”

Despite all the tears you’ve shed today, you still cry easily—an endless, open stream. You bring your free hand to wipe your eyes, and then attempt to cover your face from the embarrassment. Your chest hurts, heavy as it struggles to take air. You feel the mattress shift and a gentle touch at your back. It runs softly along your spine and you cry harder, releasing a small yelp. You pull the front of your shirt over your head to soak up your sounds and tears, reddening from the noises you don’t mean to release.

Sero keeps his distance, rubbing your back but not guiding you closer. It’s a different sort of comfort than Kirishima’s, a different consideration.

He speaks again once you’ve calmed. “I’m serious, though. I’m sorry if we ever made you feel unwelcome, because that’s definitely not the case.”

You inhale deeply and shrug. “It’s okay.” You sniffle and wince at your voice, its hoarseness. “It’s not your fault.”

“Still, I wish we could’ve made you comfortable enough to bring it up.”

You shake your head, thinking of your accidental confessional with Kirishima, your surprise at your own words and the way you told him to keep it secret, to forget about it, even. “It’s…it’s not just you all,” you try to explain. “I’m like this with everyone.”

He sighs and leans back against the wall. “We should be better about it than everyone else, then,” he says easily.

You huff, trying to brush away the lump in your throat. It comes with more stinging behind your eyes and you will it away, annoyed with your crying. You rub your shirt down your face one final time before dropping it and pouting. When you look at Sero you think he’s holding back a smile.

He looks nervous as he asks, “Can I give you a hug?”

You blink before nodding, moving closer to him by the wall. He leans towards you carefully, slowly, but his lean arms come over your shoulders to hold you close. His skin is cool and nice against your clamminess. He smells crisp and refreshing, unlike Kirishima’s dense warmth.

“Sorry I’m probably not as comfy as Kiri,” he says. You huff a laugh into his chest.

“Still nice,” you mumble into his collarbone. “Comfy in a different way.”

He laughs breathily, giving your back a couple pats before a final squeeze around your shoulders. When you pull away, shuffling to sit beside him, his arm lingers over your shoulders. It keeps you close, to lean into his side.

“This okay?” he asks. You mumble, “yeah,” in response.

The next few minutes pass quietly. You find the silence comforting, not the awkward tension you have with others. Something about him is easy and relaxed, nonchalant where you might normally panic. Even now in your close embrace, he handles it effortlessly.

He breaks the silence abruptly. “I’m also sorry we didn’t catch on sooner,” he says. “At the very least I should’ve known to not let you take so much.”

You pout. “Kirishima had the same as me and he’s okay.”

Sero sighs beside you. “He’s also probably double your weight. You seem similar to Jirou, where it takes a while to feel but it hits pretty hard, huh?”

“I guess,” you mumble. “I don’t have anything to compare it to.”

He hums and lifts his hand from your shoulder to pat your hair. “Well, regardless I’m sorry your first time wasn’t good. If you ever wanna try again we can plan the dosage better. And the environment.”

You roll your eyes and tell him that it’s unnecessary.

“No it’s not,” he says, frowning. “Seriously. I want you to have a good time.” He turns his head to look at you closely. “And…if you wanna talk about what tonight was like, I’d like to hear. Kiri would too, if you’re willing to include him.”

As if on cue, the redhead stumbles through the door. You look up to see his arms full of snacks and a mug in each hand.

“Sorry I took so long,” he says. “I got hungry. And I went to check on the girls but they’re still sleeping.”

“I just assumed you were taking a shit,” Sero says, watching as Kirishima approaches the bed and lifts his arms to let the snacks fall. “And don’t worry about them, Jirou always falls asleep. If Kaminari comes back he'll take care of them.”

You blink in surprise when one mug is offered to you. You take it slowly, inhaling steam and tanginess. “Thanks,” you say. You think you’d cry again if you weren’t so tired of it.

Kirishima beams in response, settling himself in front of you. He crosses his legs, a knee brushing over yours. You’re suddenly embarrassed by Sero’s arm around you, and you wonder if your red haired friend is upset. Then you realize he’s probably happy to be relieved from holding you.

“You didn’t get me one?” Sero pouts.

“Don’t worry, I put mine in a bigger mug so you can have some too,” Kirishima responds, extending his arm for Sero to have a sip.

You bring your cup to your lips, a mix of citrus and floral and sweet coating your tongue. “It’s good.”

“Chamomile and lemon,” Kirishima explains. “With some honey.”

You take a couple more sips, letting warmth soothe your throat and flood your chest. You look up from your mug to meet twinkling red eyes. You wonder why he looks so happy.

“Any updates?” he asks. “It seemed like I interrupted some chatting.”

You shrug. “Just that I’m feeling better.”

The redhead smiles excitedly. “That’s great to hear! Are you feeling normal?”

You purse your lips as you ponder. “My body feels a lot more normal,” you say vaguely. “But my heart is still racing. And my head’s hazy.” You also still feel anxious—more than usual—but you don’t mention it in case they probe further.

“That’s good.” Sero hums, and you see Kirishima’s eyebrows raise, like he wants to ask more. He glances towards Sero, unfolding a silent conversation, and you look away when you recognize it.

Before you can curl in on your own insecurity, Sero says, “It’s common to get anxious the first time you use. Did you feel like you were dying?”

You begin to shake your head, but pause. Your face scrunches in thought as you say, “After the movie. But then it was more that I was outside of my body and I couldn’t get back into it.”

Kirishima frowns and you think you can see the gears turning, metal churning in his mind. Sero speaks before it amounts to anything: “Maybe we can debrief more in the morning, when you’ve had some distance. Especially if you’re still foggy.”

You nod immediately, a wave of relief rolling through you. Kirishima’s shoulders drop, but he nods in understanding.

The night carries on with ease. Despite the bulk of the high having passed, the boys hang around and you don’t ask them to leave. The three of you end up squeezed under the covers, quietly munching on snacks while watching a show. You fall asleep after a few episodes, and your friends speak softly as they watch your steady breathing.

“Did I miss something?” Kirishima asks, tucked between you and the wall.

Sero shakes his head, laying on your other side by the edge of the bed. “Not much. I mostly just apologized for not noticing sooner. And for not being smarter about the dosage.”

The redhead frowns. “They cried again, though,” he says, remembering fresh smears of red around your eyes.

Sero blinks in realization. “Oh, right. Yeah.” Kirishima deadpans, unamused. Sero recalls what he can, when you said you didn’t want them to be nice because they felt bad. The redhead’s frown tugs further as he listens.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Maybe I’ve been too pushy. They told me recently that they can have trouble with friend groups…I was trying to be more observant and include them when we’re all together but—maybe that’s not what they want.” His chest pangs at the thought that he could be making it harder for you.

Sero reads his friend easily, deciding to keep the bathroom conversation to himself. Instead he says, “I think they’re comfortable around you, just embarrassed. About sharing that kind of stuff.”

Kirishima looks at you, your sleeping form breathing beside him. You look uncertain even in your dreams, a slight crease burrowed between your brows. He sighs and lays back, eyes drifting to the ceiling. His heart clenches the way it normally does in your presence, this time with an additional pang of guilt.

“It’s not your fault,” Sero says. “We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”

The redhead closes his eyes and nods slowly. He lets out a breath before smiling and saying, “Yeah. Thanks, man.”

They shuffle themselves out of the bed carefully, Kirishima awkwardly crawling over you to avoid shifting the mattress. He releases a breath when he stands and you lay unbothered, still deep in dreamspace. He turns to Sero and they nod in unison, leaving quietly to ready for bed.

Waking is painful, your eyelids sticky against you. At first you try to fall back asleep, the effort of opening your eyes too grand. But the bathroom calls, and soon you are peeling them open—right first, then the left. You blink rapidly to grease them, taking in the lightness of the room. While your mind is still somewhat hazy, you recall everything in an instant. The anxiety lingers, carved distantly in your chest, but you feel grounded in your body.

You turn your head, remembering falling asleep between your friends, but they’re nowhere in sight. Disappointment makes that hollowness feel deeper, and you mentally chide yourself for being delusional. You huff and will yourself to sit, swinging your legs over the bed to head to the bathroom. You almost yelp when you look at the floor.

Kirishima and Sero are occupying the ground, the redhead’s limbs sprawled around him like a seastar, and the other laying as straight as a corpse. You watch the latter’s chest for several seconds to confirm he’s breathing. Then you tiptoe carefully, swiping your toiletries from your desk and delicately leaping to the other side of the room. You exit quietly, leaving a sliver of space between the door and the frame. Once in the hall you sprint to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall.

You scowl. Minutes ago you were disappointed that your friends didn’t spend the night in your room, and then the moment you realized they did, you ran away.

Your time in the bathroom is primarily spent scrutinizing the events that unfolded the night before. You cringe as you count how many times you cried, your continuous blubbering to Sero. Postponing the “debrief” felt good at the time, but having this conversation sober feels immensely mortifying compared to admitting to these things while high. You could be playing off your words as a bad experience right now, and then returning to your grand plan of isolation.

It makes your heart feel funny to think that’s why Sero suggested it.

After you brush your teeth and wash your face, you stand idly by the sink. You take your sweet time returning to your room, and even then you can’t bring yourself to the door. You stop a few paces away when you hear murmuring inside. You contemplate booking it downstairs and saying you needed fresh air.

The squeak of the hinges seizes your options, and suddenly you are staring at a freshly-woken Kirishima. He rubs his eye with his knuckle and you watch as he brightens when he sees you.

“Hey!” he says. “We were wondering where you went.”

You freeze in place, feet cemented to the ground. Your fist clenches around your bag as you force a pained smile. “Bathroom.”

Kirishima’s face softens, eyes widening slightly. “You okay?”

You nod by default.

His eyes trace over your features, drifting along your brow and lips. When he speaks again, it’s much softer. “It’s just us.”

You blink, inhaling sharply. He extends a hand out to you, eyes wide and light. You stare at it, hand immediately lifting towards it before you stop yourself. He takes the pause in stride, still waiting, for when you eventually step forward and touch your fingertips against his palm.

He smiles at the contact and curls his hand around yours, layered petals of a rose. He’s warm and soft, and lets himself hold it carefully for a moment.

“Thanks,” he says before gently tugging you back inside the room. Your heart skips.

You almost laugh at the sight of Sero, on his knees and sleepily folding the blankets on the floor. His hair is matted in some spots while frizzy in others, and he looks incredibly tired.

“Mornin’,” he mumbles sleepily.

You return the greeting while Kirishima guides you through your room. When he reaches your bed, he asks to sit.

“You seem excited,” you blurt as you lower yourself next to him.

“I’m always excited to talk to you.”

You flush at the admission and dart your eyes to Sero. You feel betrayed by his lack of reaction, still folding the blankets.

“Okay…” you trail off, unsure how to respond.

Kirishima takes it easily. “How are you feeling?”

You want to say nervous. Instead you say, “Normal.”

“Good normal?” Sero chimes in.

You’re taken aback by the clarification. “Normal normal,” you say.

The pause that follows is enough time to bring unease into your body. It seeps from your shoulders to your chest, and then collects in your stomach. You frown.

“I’m sorry,” you say when there’s still no response. You ignore their looks of confusion and let yourself blabber. “For making you babysit me. But thanks…I appreciate it, and I think it’s what I needed.”

“Anytime,” Kirishima says immediately. “Don’t apologize, we wanted to. We like hanging out with you.”

Instead of reassuring you, it pulls your face further into a frown. While you know Kirishima to be earnest, he doesn’t usually say these things to you outright. You wonder if he’s trying to be nice, to soften the prickles of your embarrassment.

Your skepticism must show. His face twists in a grimace and he loosens his hold on your hand—an unfurling petal. “Sorry, was that too much?”

You feel like a withered flower yourself, still stomaching your fears but beyond your capacity. It only takes a few shakes for your dried leaves to scatter. You brace yourself as you release them. “It’s just…you don’t have to say stuff like that.”

The air stills at your words. Sero’s folding stops, and you feel Kirishima’s rigidness through his hand. You stare down at it, avoiding the way his eyes track you closely. He says carefully, “But I mean it.”

The words sift right through you, a ghost passing by. You’re so numb to all the bad scenarios in your head, you don’t know how you feel when the opposite occurs. Your response comes out equally unfeeling.

“It’s hard to believe,” you say, the words empty on your tongue. You want to slam your head in the wall for sounding so dramatic.

The hand over yours tightens. A dip on your other side indicates Sero has joined. You remain still, but your heart races beneath your stoicism. A soft pressure grazes your back, Sero’s gentle fingers. It’s distant, a contrast to the vice grip on your hand. But both touches are caring: one offering patience while the other expresses need.

“Can you tell us about last night?” Sero asks quietly.

You try.

The words flow slowly. You pick them carefully, focusing on explaining sensations rather than your emotional journey. You describe how you felt at the end of the movie, the full force of your altered state, how time passed and you drifted further and further from yourself. You vaguely mention your overthinking, overanalyzing every interaction you noticed. You recount staring in the mirror until your legs gave out. You tell Kirishima that he helped guide you back into your own body.

Sero grimaces when you finish and says, “That sounds rough. I really am sorry—for not paying better attention.”

Kirishima nods in agreement while you shrug and say, “It’s okay.”

The three of you chat softly, mostly you answering when they ask for details. Sero looks intrigued, admitting that he hasn’t heard much about dissociation while using, but that it makes sense. His questions are easy—clinical, even. Kirishima asks the harder ones, trying to reign in answers that you’re too embarrassed to give.

“Do you have any guesses for what triggered it?”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, attempting to craft a response that doesn’t sound incredibly depressing.

Before you can speak, he asks, “Do you think it has to do with what you told me before? About being with bigger groups of people?”

The aversion of your eyes is enough of an answer. You stare at the rumpled blanket beneath you, busy your free hand by attempting to smooth out a patch of wrinkles. Eventually you nod.

You feel a squeeze around your other hand—the one still in Kirishima’s. You bring your eyes to his cautiously. “Can you tell us?” he asks. “We’re interested in hearing why.”

You swallow as you grimace. You think of words that can soften the edges of your thoughts. You settle on: “I think seeing myself from the outside made me realize that I don’t really contribute to the friend group.”

Their surprised looks make you flush, but you continue carefully when they encourage you. “I just…I don’t know why I get invited to hang out when I hardly ever speak. Hagakure is actually invisible and she’s more noticeable than me.”

Sero looks at you thoughtfully. “Do you like hanging out with us?” he asks.

You nod.

“Do you want to talk and be a bigger part of the conversation?”

You still, not expecting to be asked so directly. The answer sits at the tip of your tongue, but your eyes and nose sting. You swallow and take a few breaths before responding as evenly as you can. “I just…don’t want you all to think I’m lame, or stupid.”

They both shift at that, turning closer towards you. It makes you falter on your spot of the bed, your free hand pressing down for balance. You hear both of your friends start a response, then cut themselves off at the sound of the other’s voice. There’s a moment of silence, an exchange of glances you don’t see, and then finally Kirishima speaks first.

“We would never think that,” he says. “We invite you because we want to get to know you better. We want you to talk openly.”

Sero nods and adds, “I think you’re also forgetting that half of us are idiots. We’re always goofing around and saying stupid shit anyways. Besides, we know you’re smart.”

The huff of laughter that escapes you is genuine, but easily stomped as more insecurities rise within you, the beginning of a boil. You can’t stop now that you’ve started. “It’s hard, when everyone already seems so close,” you say. It reminds you of last night, when Sero said Kaminari was used to dealing with Jirou falling asleep in his room.

Sero hums. “I can understand that being difficult, since we’re closer to each other than you. But Kiri’s right, we wanna get to know you too. If it’s hard as a group, we can always hang out separately. Like now.”

Kirishima adds, “And the others would too.”

Your stomach squeezes at the thought of asking any of them to spend time with you, but you nod regardless and say, “Okay.” They don’t seem convinced.

“Is there anything we can do in the meantime?” Kirishima presses. “To make you feel more included? When we’re all together, I mean.”

You bite your tongue, an obvious answer ready. But it’s hard to say these things openly. Sero notices and says, “Really, anything.”

Your heart is still uneasy, but you shovel through your embarrassment. “I like when people ask me questions. It’s hard to jump into a conversation by myself.”

Kirishima brightens, as if you’ve offered him a gift. “Oh! That makes sense. Aw man, I wish I’d noticed sooner. I always have so many questions about you, but I don’t wanna overwhelm you.”

You blink in surprise at his words, a weight lifting from your chest. You feel excited by the admission, and embarrassed. You think the shift of energy in the room is palpable, much lighter than when you first came back from the bathroom. You smile sheepishly.

“Then can I ask…” he continues, “Last night—Were you okay with the touches? I’m big on hugging, but I probably should’ve been better about asking. That’s my bad. You can always tell me to stop.”

You shake your head easily. “No, it was nice. Like I said earlier, I think it helped.”

The redhead beams, hand tightening over yours. “That’s awesome to hear. I’m always open to it, y’know? I love hugging my friends and cuddling.”

Your cheeks darken at the honesty. You know you won’t ever feel brave enough to ask, but you nod in understanding.

Sero huffs beside you. “We all do,” he says. “Even Bakugou. He’ll complain but he never moves.”

You smile at the comment, though not even a possibility to entertain. You prefer avoiding the blond at all costs.

Kirishima is still smiling at you, with a joy you can’t understand. “Thanks for telling us,” he says softly, rubbing his thumb against your palm. You only find it in yourself to nod, heart quivering at his gentleness.

“Thanks for asking,” you say. You have to tear your eyes away from Kirishima, his smile widening in such earnestness that you can’t let yourself entertain what it might mean. Instead you catch Sero’s easy grin, a calmer space.

Maybe he notices your antsiness, because he looks to Kirishima and says, “Maybe we can chat more at breakfast? I’m getting hungry.”

It’s easy bait for the redhead, immediately biting. “Oh, of course, man. You want me to cook you something? I’ve been wanting to try making an omelet, I heard you can get a ton of protein in the morning that way.”

You have to bite your lip to suppress the giant grin that crawls up your face. Sero catches it as he wears his openly. “Sounds awesome,” he says to Kirishima before looking back at you. “We’ll go take our stuff back to our rooms and then meet you downstairs?”

You nod, sliding off the bed while they gather their blankets and pillows. You open the door as they enter the hall. Sero nudges Kirishima onwards before turning to shoot you a smile. You take the stairs to avoid sharing the elevator.

The common room is surprisingly empty when you enter, despite approaching noon. While you pull eggs from the fridge and whatever other things you think belong in an omelet, Kaminari stumbles through the door. You wave when he spots you.

“Hey!” he says brightly, bouncing over. “How was the rest of your night?”

“Good,” you say simply, tired of talking about it.

His eyes shine when he spots the food on the counter. “Woah, you’re making breakfast?”

You watch his face morph into a pout, a plea. “Kirishima is,” you say. “I’ll tell him to make extra for you.”

He grins. “You’re the best.”

You blink in surprise, watching him pull out his phone and lean against the counter. Not knowing what to say, you ask about his time with Shinsou.

“Hmm? It was good,” he replies, thumb scrolling mindlessly. He brightens and then starts typing before saying, “Oh! He wants to try this cafe tomorrow, apparently they have tons of different chocolate options. You should totally come if you’re free.”

He turns his phone to you, showing an array of desserts. They look good, ones you would seek out on your own. But your brow furrows, wondering why he’d want you to third-wheel his date. “It looks really good,” you say.

“I know!” he exclaims. “You always eat those chocolate covered snack things, this seems like your style.”

You freeze at his words. Your heart lifts in your chest, but you carefully maintain a blank face.

“Anyways, let me know,” he says. He pushes away from the counter and heads toward the elevator. “I’ll be back down in a second!”

You are left alone and stunned in the kitchen. You frown, wondering if Kirishima or Sero set him up after the conversation minutes ago. Why else would he ask you to come along? Especially with him and Shinsou. Was he really that observant? Why would he even notice?

Your mind trails back to your conversation with the boys this morning. We wanna get to know you.

You inhale deeply, puffing your cheeks as you hold your breath. After a few seconds you let it expel slowly. Maybe Kaminari and Shinsou just want to hang out—with you. Maybe they don’t mind that you’re quiet. Your body tingles.

Ten minutes later you are wedged between Sero and Kaminari, the three of you on chopping duty while Kirishima whips eggs on the other side of the counter.

“So, you think you’ll come along?” Kaminari asks while the other two argue over how many peppers to use. You nod, and he brightens. “Awesome! I’ll tell Toshi.”

Your eyebrows raise at the nickname, then at the way the blond licks the remnants of tomato off his fingers to type on his phone.

When the others cast curious glances, you quietly explain. “We’re going to a cafe tomorrow.”

Kirishima immediately blinks, saying, “Wait—” while Sero gasps dramatically. You furrow your eyes in confusion until the latter asks, “Where’s our invite?”

Kaminari snickers. “Toshi says the rest of you are too loud. He wants a peaceful day out.”

Kirishima’s face falls into a pout and you feel bad at your growing smile. For the second time today, you bite down on your lip to suppress it, but Sero notices. He makes a show of his own exaggerated petulance, but then it morphs into another easy grin. You think he looks happy for you.

“Let’s study together today,” you tell Kirishima. At his immediate switch to a joyful smile, you let yours return. You feel yourself beaming like an idiot.

“Oh, let me join!” Kaminari says. “You’re so good at English, and I need so much help.”

“No!” Kirishima immediately protests. “You can ask Bakugou. You’re already stealing them tomorrow.”

The noise that leaves the blond is akin to a squawk. “I said I want to be tutored, not bullied—”

You giggle as they bicker, turning back to your onion as you feel your cheeks heat. You continue chopping, embarrassed by the attention. A nudge from your left makes you look up, eyes connecting with Sero’s. He gives you a wink and then sticks out his tongue. You return the gesture.

Your heart still beats quickly and you feel the familiar tingle of nerves thrum through your hands. Your mind has a slight haze, a tough stain left by the previous night. Your cheeks are warm from embarrassment. You cringe at the mere thought of the conversation in your room earlier.

But you’re moving forward, you think. To the cafe with Kaminari and Shinsou, to study with Kirishima. To let your friends in just a little bit, and to begin this careful exploration of yourself in the process.

#welcome to my adolescene lol #(for a third time)#jiso.fics #kirishima eijirou #sero hanta #bnha #fluff #angst #sero x reader #kirishima x reader

86 notes · View notes

pearlsinmyhair · 2 years ago

Text

₊ ⊹ the price of the name.

synopsis: reader has had a hard life, and now she’s an orphan. but someone just as lonely comes into her life to take her under his wing.

warnings: violence in this chapter (capture of an anomaly, star girl gets injured), mentions of getting stitches without anesthetic. The Fight ™. Miguel loses himself in anger twice (tread lightly). lots of cursing. use of spanish.

so…it does get worse after this chapter. hobie is a g (yes he’s here). as always, this is a platonic!miguel x reader fic, not a romantic one.

part i | part ii

word count: 2.7k

part iii: i’m not her

　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚

“let’s go over the process one more time.” miguel was saying as you both exited the trans-universe portal.

“no, please god, no.” you groaned, pressing your hand to the mask of you spider suit. “we must have gone over this a million times, miguel. this isn’t my first anomaly.”

the eye patterns of his suit narrowed. you had gotten to know his facial expressions well over the past nine months, even when he was wearing his mask.

“yes, but this one’s big. you’ve never tackled a big one before.” he claimed, and you rolled your eyes.

“telling me about it isn’t going to be the same as me actually experiencing it. just let me do my thing.” you responded, shooting a web to a nearby building and jumping up to swing.

miguel’s tight grip on the back of your suit held you still like a puppy, and you wriggled for a moment before giving in and letting him set you on the ground.

“we’re waiting for the other spider, remember? slow down.” miguel said firmly, hand resting at the base of your neck for a moment in a ‘stay’ gesture. you shrugged his hand off.

“who is it?” you asked. you had yet to work with someone other than miguel on missions. he preferred to work with you hands on, using the anomalies as a lesson.

yet another thing that was unusual: miguel didn’t do ‘partners’. jess was the closest to that before you.

miguel’s posture stiffened, and your spidey-senses tingled as you put the pieces together.

“don’t tell me.” you said in a giddy voice to him, and miguel pressed his fingers to his temples as if trying to relieve a headache.

before you could press him more, the sound of an all-too familiar guitar riff burst across the roof top you both stood on.

“hey, star girl.” came the sound of a familiar voice, slurred with a cockney accent.

you turned and ran straight to hobie, pounding your fist with his as you pulled you close by his arm around your shoulders.

“you two…know each other?” came miguel’s stern voice, glaring at you and hobie.

“yeah, we’ve met a few times around the base.” you explained as hobie shoved your shoulder playfully.

“y/n’s pretty hard to miss, boss. kinda surprised you assumed we hadn’t.” hobie said, and you didn’t miss the mocking tone in his voice as he looked at miguel.

you poked him in the ribs, willing him to behave.

he pinched your side in response, causing you to squeal and pull away from the spider punk beside you.

“enough play, let’s secure this anomaly.” miguel said, murmuring a curse in spanish as he turned from you and slung a web.

hobie looked down at you. “does he get jealous this of’en?” he asked, shooting a web of his own as he shifted his guitar up his shoulder.

you shrugged. “he’s not jealous, hobie. you just piss each other off.” you both jumped from the building, quickly locating the thing you were to capture.

“sure, i piss him off. but that was different. he’s got a soft spot, y/n”

you shrugged again as you pulled yourself up into a flip, locating the anomalies weak points.

it took a moment for you to realize just why miguel was so concerned.

the anomaly was a green goblin, and a quick one at that.

nine months ago you would have been useless in this fight. but now? miguel’s training has honed your skills, and you moved through the motions with the ease of a dancer in a well-rehearsed routine.

that was, until the goblin threw one of his smoke bombs right into your face.

the momentary blindness caused you to miss your webbing. you slammed through a window of a skyscraper into an office building, rolling across the floor and into a desk.

“fuck.” you murmured as you tried to stand, only for your legs to buckle. your ears rang from the bomb, and your eyes watered.

you removed your mask, taking a breath of fresh air as you tried to get your barings. you looked down at your body in an attempt to take stock of your injuries.

there was a laceration across your calf from the glass, and your shoulder throbbed. it took a second for you to realize that it was dislocated.

you took a few moments to rest your head back, fighting the urge to just sit and rest. you were needed. you had to get back.

you shifted up against the desk, manouveing your arm so that it sat in place before you shoved your body to the side.

you let out a strangled cry when your arm popped back into place, the pain bright but brief. your hearing was coming back, and you could hear the distant cackles of the green goblin as you stood.

you stepped to the broken window, taking a breath before you jumped back into the fight.

“hey star girl! you still with us?” shouted hobie from a distance, and you gave him a thumbs up.

he couldn’t afford the time to ask you more, simply nodding as he slammed his guitar against the goblin’s glider, causing the anomaly to fall.

orange silk stuck to the goblin’s chest, tugging him forward before a blue figure slammed into his chest, causing the two to fly into another building, disappearing from view.

you took a moment to just hang, catching your breath as you waited for miguel to give you and hobie the go ahead.

when nothing came, you scowled, swinging through the opening.

the sight that greeted you made your blood run cold.

you knew miguel could get mad. you had heard the whispers, heard the stories, listened to the tales of blood and broken bones that followed in his wake.

but nothing could compare to actually seeing his brutality.

miguel laid into the goblin, his fist colliding with his jaw over and over again, each impact sounding wetter than the last.

the anomaly’s mask was long sense shattered, and you could see the eyes of norman osborn just barely clinging to life.

“miguel stop.” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you fought down the bile rising in your throat.

but miguel didn’t hear you, slamming his fist against the goblin’s face again.

you should have known not to get too close. you were trained to stay away from close fist fights. but in that moment, nothing mattered.

you took a step closer and placed your hand against miguel’s back, trying to calm him. “mig, you need to st-“

his elbow collided with you nose with a sickening crunch. blood burst from it like a supernova, and your vision swam as you stumbled back a few steps.

hobie caught you under the armpits, hauling you back so you could both lean against a desk for support.

“miguel, what the fuck.” he was saying, voice low and angry as he pressed a ripped off part of his shirt to your nose. you winced in pain, and hobie’s eyes hardened even more.

when you finally got the courage to look up at your mentor, your mouth went dry.

because he was already looking at you, with the same mixture of guilt and regret that he had when he first took you as an apprentice.

he was on you in a second, hovering over you and cupping your face with clawed hands. looking wild while beating a man was one thing, but the devastated look he gave you now as he held you was much much worse.

hobie was still pissed, watching miguel from behind you, making sure that he was gentle.

miguel brushed the blood from your nose with a claw, looking tortured. all the while he was murmuring soft sentences in spanish, things that you didn’t quite have the mental capacity to translate, what with the broken nose and bleeding leg.

“lo siento, pequeña. no quise hacerlo, va a estar bien. mierda chica, lo siento mucho.”

you watched as hobie tapped at his watch in your peripheral, and an orange portal opened to your left. it seemed to snap miguel out of whatever trance he had fallen into, and he straightened.

he nodded to hobie, and the punk picked you up easily as miguel did the same for the now-unconscious green goblin.

“ready?” asked the spider holding you, though you knew him enough by now to understand that the question was mostly rhetorical.

you nodded as you pressed the back of your hand to your nose, preparing for the lecture that surely awaited you.

the four of you jumped into the portal, back to base.

₊ ⊹

the worst possible thing miguel can do is be quiet.

he did it often. once you had called him a ‘stewer’, because he would wait until whatever speech he was preparing was the perfect amount of cruel.

you sat in your designated chair with one leg up as the spider-doctor of the base bandaged it. it had needed stitches, and you had forced yourself to go through it without any kind of anesthesia. you had stitched up worse on your own before.

“two weeks rest, and then you’re able to go back in the field. just take it easy for now.” the doctor was saying, and you nodded. you were only truly half listening. the other half of your attention was placed upon miguel, who stood with his back turned to you not twenty feet away.

the doctor dismissed themselves, and you pulled your leg up to sit criss-cross in the chair.

it was a design by miguel himself, added when you needed a place to sit on days where your mentor was busy in his office.

you could still vaguely hear the echos of him explaining complex microbiology and gene-splicing as you did your research papers beside him.

miguel was silent for a few more beats, and you continued watching him, knowing that he felt you staring.

you had been his apprentice for nine months. you knew each others mannerisms well by now.

he let out the characteristic “you’re about to get an earful” sigh that typically haunted your nightmares.

“you almost died.”

oh.

you expected something a bit more barbed, but you could work with this.

“yes. i almost did. but i’m here, and i’m ok.”

“it doesn’t matter.” he said as he finally turned to you, with a solemn resignation in his eyes that made your heart stop.

“you. almost. died. y/n. and i can’t allow that while i’m your mentor. you’re benched.”

your confusion sharpened to irritation.

“you can’t bench me, miguel. i’m not a child.” you responded, rising from your seat. when you put weight against your freshly stitched leg you tripped slightly. miguel gave you a hard look as if it justified his decision.

“i’m your superior. if i say you’re done, you’re done. understood?” he said, with a note of finality that meant he didn’t want a response other than confirmation.

you shook your head, unwilling to back down. “no, i don’t understand.” you replied, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to look bigger next to his tall form.

“i don’t understand why you give me special treatment over others. i don’t understand why you feel the need to be so fucking protective over me. miguel, i don’t…” you sighed, gathering your words as he watched you with a carefully controlled expression.

“i know you feel a certain…responsibility over me because i’m your apprentice. and i understand your concern. but i’m also a person. i’m eighteen, soon to be nineteen. i can handle scrapes and bruises. it’s what we do-“

“y/n, it wasn’t just scrapes and bruises this time. you flew through a fucking window. jesus christ, kid, i thought you were dead.” his tone leaned to desperation, and it made any words you had prepared die in your throat.

sweet clarity.

miguel laying into the green goblin like it was personal, like it was vengeance. how the moments that you took to rest were probably actually minutes, making it look like you went AWOL. how when miguel accidentally elbowed your nose, he probably expected to find you bleeding amongst glass rather than clutching your face.

but the sympathy that normally accompanied your conversations with miguel was gone. instead, words sharpened like blades on your tongue.

“this isn’t fucking fair, miguel. i didn’t ask for this.” you said lowly.

his eyes narrowed at you. “and what exactly is this.”

the words on the tip of your tongue, ready to fire like bullets at the weakest part of miguel. the must vulnerable.

there was always an unspoken fifth rule of your partnership.

never, under any circumstances, talk about his daughter.

“being treated like i’m gabriella. like i’m some second chance for you to make things right. as if i’m just another option to make your life happier-“

you didn’t get to finish.

miguel’s hands clenched the collar of your suit, lifting you so that your toes barely brushed the ground. it wasn’t strangling, but the way he glared down at you promised violence.

your breath caught in your throat as he looked at you, rage palpable as his claws created puncture holes in your suit.

but you trudged on. you had repressed these thoughts for too long.

“miguel, you can’t lock me in a tower and call it love.”

all at once, the rage faded, and the grip on your collar ceased.

you dropped to the floor, wheezing. but a web hit your chest, easing you down. you followed its trail back to the owner.

hobie brown stood in the entrance way to miguel’s office, looking livid. but he said nothing.

that was always the wonderful thing about hobie. he knew when to wait for your signal.

“listen to me very carefully, kid. you will go home, now. you will get the fuck out of this demension as soon as this conversation is over, and you will stay out of it until further notice.” miguel growled, looking down at you.

“you will not be called on any missions, and you will not respond to any invitations to help.” he looked pointedly at hobie. “if you do, i will take your watch and drag you back to your dimension myself. am i understood?”

you looked at him from the ground, frustrated tears in your eyes. there was no way out.

“yes sir.”

you got up and walked out of the office.

₊ ⊹

hobie followed you, keeping pace with your limping step.

“are you really gonna listen to that prick?” he asked, glaring at some nosy spiders that stared. “he’s a fucking idiot if he thinks your gonna stop-“

“i am going to, hobie. i’m going home.” you told him, and the spider-punk paused.

“you saw how he looked at me. do you think he’s going to be kind when he finds me swinging with you or pav with anomalies? you think he won’t drag me back?” you knew miguel well. and you knew his resolve.

he wouldn’t hesitate to take your watch. he wouldn’t hesitate to confine you to your own reality, never to see him or your friends again.

all for the sake of protecting you.

‘you could have died.’

“you said your parents are gone, right?” hobie asked, and you stopped walking at the audacity of that question. when you turned to him, he raised his hands up to show you he meant no harm.

“i just don’t think you should be alone right now. come crash in my flat. we’ll find something to do other than wallow in our own misery, ay?”

you deflated, wanting nothing more than to sink into hobie’s embrace. and you did, allowing him to pull you close as the tears you were holding back finally escaped your eyes, leaking onto hobie’s blue shirt, mixing with the blood that stained it from your nose.

he tapped his watch to open another portal, and you spared one last glance towards the direction of miguel’s office before you stepped through it.

masterlists | part iv

so…like i said…it does get worse in the next chapter. i hope that you all liked this one ♡. stay tuned…

“lo siento, pequeña. no quise hacerlo, va a estar bien. mierda chica, lo siento mucho. - i’m sorry, little one. i didn’t mean to do it, it’s going to be ok. shit kid, i’m so sorry.

taglist:

@pearlssdiary @zeyzeys-stuff @alexisabirdie @ifuckyourmom @hagdgishbr @migueloharaslxt @ladynecromancer @ladyfairenvale

#the price of the name #miguel x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x fem!reader #platonic!miguel ohara x reader #dad!miguel o’hara #daughter!reader #star girl #star girl hasn’t paid in full yet #miguel x reader #miguel ohara atsv #miguel atsv

406 notes · View notes

ashisgreedy · 1 year ago

Text

Mattheo Riddle x F!Reader x Draco Malfoy

Tags: 🔞 Smut 18+ MDNI| FWB | Pubilc Discreet Fingering |

Drabble

You go out at a fancy dinner with your Slytherin friends. The restaurant is filled with patrons and the table is full of the food and drinks everyone ordered. You and all your friends eat until your hearts content, sitting in a dark corner of the dining room.

As the night goes on, you and Draco slide closer to one another. His arm goes around you at some point and he proceeds to tease you verbally while keeping up conversations with his friends.

His hand begins to slide over you thigh, pushing your dress up little by little. You hadn't noticed how far under your clothes he'd gotten until his finger started idly rubbing along the thin cotton of your panties.

Your eyes went wide, face filling with a blush making Mattheo's, who was infront of you on the other side of the table, brows raise in curiosity. He looked over at Draco who was sporting a smug smile then back over at you. Draco's finger slid beneth the fabric and ran his digit along your slit. You straighted your posture before slumping back down to try and look nonchalant.

Mattheo's smile grows and he points at Draco "Are you?" and then he points at you. "...right now?"

Draco just smiles and takes a sip of your coctail, leaning over and using the long straw while he gazes at you. All the while, his pointing finger explores your body intimatley.

You focused on a spot on the table, a hot flush washing over your skin. Someone called for Draco's attention and he leaned over and started chatting with them, his finger teasing at your entrance.

Mattheo capitalized on this moment 'alone' with you and leaned in. "How does that feel?" He whispered.

You bit your lip and looked away from him.

"No, hey. hey...." Mattheo said, like he was trying to disengage a wild animal from pouncing. "Look at me." He asked in a soft tone. "Come on, baby."

The pet name added an extra layer of butterflies to your stomach. Draco's finger slipped inside and was curling against your walls, rubbing just the right spot that would usually have you moaning and rocking your hips. You tried to stay still, pressing your lips together to keep from making noise. Slowly, you look over at Mattheo and hes got a croocked smile on his face.

"Perfect." He licked his lips. Something touched your kneed under the table and you jumped. "Shh, It's just me." Mattheo says, giving your knee a gentle squeeze. He winked then looked over at the waitress when she walked up.

"Does anyone need anything else?" She asked while Draco added a second finger inside you.

"We're good." Draco said in an even voice.

"I'll have another drink." Enzo pointed at his mostly empty pint of beer.

"I'll be right back with that." She took some empty plates off the table and gave you a smile.

Mattheo started drawing patterns on your knee while he watched you. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?" Draco inquired, his full attention back on you.

"I asked her if it felt good." Mattheo filled Draco in.

Draco removed his fingers and slid them into his mouth. He sucked lightly while keeping eye contact with you. "Well? Does it?" He insisted.

Your heart raced in your chest as you looked between them. "Yes..." Your voice was far too quiet.

"I want a taste." Mattheo whispered, brows pinching together with determination.

The volume of the restaurant was loud enough to drown out his words from the other people at the table who were engrosed in their own conversations with one another.

Draco's hand slid back up your dress. He tugged at your panties to make them loose and give him more range of motion.

Draco gesutred to Mattheo then to you with his head. "Can you reach?" He said casually.

Draco's finger was teasing your clit, using your own slickness to lubricate his finger. He worked his finger in slow, languid circles over the swelling nub.

Mattheo reached forward, his hand sliding up your thigh. He was reaching so far, his chin was almost resting on the table. Lucky for him, it was enough to reach you but not enough to play.

"Move her up." Mattheo requested.

Draco used his arm that was around you to push you forward. You slid along the bench seat, ribs pressing nto the table while Mattheo took his chance.

His finger met your cunt and he immediately slid down to sink his finger into your entrance.

"Be good for us, Darling." Draco said.

"She is good." Mattheo responded, his second finger entering you. "Aren't you? You're such a good girl."

The whimper that escaped you caught the attention of the waitress as she dropped off another beer for Enzo.

"Anyting else?" She asked, looking over at Mattheo suspiciously.

"No." Mattheo said.

"We'll take the check." Draco added.

You placed your hand over your face, trying to cover your obvous blush. Two fingers curled inside you, rubbing in the perfect spot while two other fingers still circled your clit at a slow languid pace.

The room became a furnice the longer they fingered you. Draco moved from your clit to easing his way inside your entrance, joining Mattheo's two fingers. Your eyes slid shut as you were streached deliciously.

"Look at me, babe." Mattheo says in a low voice.

Draco leans in, kissing your cheek. Your eyes obediently meet Mattheo's gaze.

"What are you guys doing?" Enzo asks, taking a long drink of his beer.

"Shut up" Draco says just as Mattheo blurts out. "Mind your business."

Enzo puts his hands up in defeat and turns back to his date. He rolled his eyes and whispered something in her ear. You caught the words "... they always..." but your focus was elsewhere.

Draco's lips move to your ear. "You're riding with me in the backseat of Enzo's car."

Mattheo looked up curiously as to what Draco was whipsering to you.

"Okay." You nod. You look over at him and catch just how quickly his breathing has picked up.

Draco humms happily. "Now, reach into my pocket." Your eyes went wide. He wanted you to reciprocate... now! Draco seemed to see where your mind was gong. "...and grab my wallet."

You intake a deep breath, feeling Matheo's two fingers scissor out. As you reach over to his right side, Draco removes his finger from inside you and starts to circle your clit again. He smiled wider watching you fumble to get his wallet.

You peeled open the leather trifold and looked up at him. "First card on the left." He pressed harder with his finger elliciting a small sound from you. You clit throbbed while you removed his credit card and placed it onto the table.

The watiress drops the check onto the table. Draco leans in. "Toss my card over, will you darling?"

You do as he asks, placing the card onto the check while Mattheo's fingers start to receed. He uses his dry fingers to rub along your thigh while he sits back up.

Mattheo makes direct eye contact with you and slides the fingers, that had just pleasuerd you, into his mouth. He humms and looks over to Draco. "I'm riding with you two." he says confidently.

Draco lets out a short laugh. "Alright."

Your stomcah filpped thinking about how the drive back home was almost 30 minutes. You wondered just how long you three would be able to keep up this rouse before Enzo became even more suspicious and made them stop.

#mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #slytherin boys #thirsty hours

185 notes · View notes

little-emerald-snake · 1 year ago

Note

Duncan - degredation kink (on himself) ("who's my little coward?") Leander - praise ("you are so strooong" (we all know you aren't but please fuck me) )

Garreth - feral/kinda breeding kink

Ominis - lingerie/clothed - touch-different fabrics

Everett - body worship (him on male mc? "MC is build/ quidditch player maybe)

all I could think off, hope this inspires/helps :)

I’m SO doing more than just this one prompt you gave me but this one jumped out to me because I LOVE Ominis. You’ve clearly inspired me! I hope you enjoy 💕

Fabric - Ominis Gaunt X F!MC

🔥NSFW 🔞 MDNI

708 words

She’d known for a long time that Ominis loved feeling the different layers of her clothing and comparing how the textiles felt different under his slender fingers.

At first she’d found it a bit silly but after hearing him describe the textures of different things she’d worn that day while he was buried deep inside of her, it had left her hot and heavy that he truly paid that much attention to things he could feel on her.

Right now in his bed, tucked away behind the thick Slytherin green curtains, he was on top of her, kissing her softly while his hands explored the soft wool of her thigh high stockings.

He teased the hem at the top, dipping his cool fingers underneath just to draw patterns on her soft sensitive thighs that spread for him like butter.

Her breath hitched as his lips left hers dipped down so they met the column of her throat, hot breath cascading over the sensitive skin there.

He delicately rolled her stockings down, finally pulling her legs up to tug them off one at a time. His attention turned to the thick linen of her skirt next, sliding it down her long legs.

Her skirt met its fate on the floor with her stockings while his fingers teased the silk between her legs. He pressed two fingers over the damp spot, comparing the dry silk to the soiled bit where it had been dampened by her mess.

He tsked her, sliding off her underwear. “What a waste of perfectly good silk panties. You’ve gone and made a mess of them with your weeping little pussy, my love.”

She groaned softly, his teeth scraping against the column of her neck before repositioning himself between her legs. His tongue slid through her folds, causing her head to tip back against his pillow, the feel of him was overwhelming.

His hands carefully crept up under her shirt to the lace bralette she wore. He groaned, licking at her pussy again while he let his fingers trace over the intricacies of the lace pattern.

His fingers were distracting to say the least, she knew he was just letting himself get worked up over the texture but his fingers deftly swept over her nipples and if she didn’t know better she’d think he was purposely driving her crazy with those long alabaster fingers.

She arched up, pussy chasing his fluttering tongue and begging for more stimulation to her nipples. Her arching caused him to groan above her. She could only imagine how hard he was. She knew he loved it when she wore special things just for him to touch and caress while he pleased her.

Finally deciding she’d had enough he stopped, hands still on her body as he lapped up her mess and sat up. He used his hands on her body to help flip her over and get her on her hands and knees.

Once he had her positioned, he pulled himself from his trousers, lining up with her soaking entrance before plunging into her willing sex. She gasped at the feeling, stretching around him expertly.

He groaned, leaning over her to reach up and cup her breasts under her shirt once again. “These fucking tits feel perfect like this, I love what you’ve worn for me tonight.”

She shivered in pleasure as his hips thrust into her, his fingers teasing her nipples through the fabric, driving her absolutely mad. She arched into his touch as he drove into her body, fucking herself back into his thrusts till she felt him deeper inside. “Oh! Ominis…”

He pinched her nipples, bucking into her exactly where it would make her see stars. “That’s right baby. I know. Cum for me, needy little thing. You feel so good in my hands and on my cock.”

Lights exploded in her vision as she came, starbursts danced across her eyelids while she tightened almost impossibly around his twitching member.

He toppled over his own edge directly after, pumping her so full of thick ropes of cum he knew it would be leaking out of her well after she left his bed. “Mm fuck. Now this will surely ruin your silk panties when it drips out of you.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis gaunt smut #requests

130 notes · View notes

slashers-and-rats · 1 year ago

Text

pretty boy.

vincent sinclair x fem!reader | nsfw |sub!vincent, lingerie, lots of praise!!

rat chat: vincent deserves to feel pretty and be railed. that’s this.

wherever your fingertips dragged along vincent’s skin, a blazing trail followed close behind. it didn’t burn or sting; it felt as though you were tracing lines of hot wax across his flesh. he felt, in some ways, like your canvas. the way you drew invisible patterns on him, and created faint etchings with your nails along his most sensitive spots, made him gasp and push further into your touch.

vincent felt pretty.

he felt a bit like a doll, all dressed up and laid out for display. you had picked out his outfit yourself. at first, he had been so nervous, and the only thing saving him from complete embarrassment was the fact his mask hid the red on his face. but, you spoke so sweetly, and praised him for his beauty, and your words turned his organs into ooze, and-

there was no point in thinking about it now. he had gotten himself into this predicament, and the further you worshipped his body, the less he believed this was a mistake. it wasn’t. you had reassured him of that the second the straps slipped over his shoulders.

“you look so pretty in your lingerie,” you purred from above him. the words wrapped around his throat, and squeezed out a soft sigh. he could feel your eyes roaming over him, taking in the sight. he donned a nice set, with a lacy bralette and matching panties. it was snug on his body, tight to the point his nipples raised bumps in the fabric barely covering his chest. his cock, tucked as far down into the panties as possible, still had it’s head poking out the waistband. it leaked drops onto his hip and back down his v-line, and twitched every time you grazed your fingers down his stomach. garters we’re attached, with bows adorning the middle of the strap that connected to the thigh-highs. they felt silky and soft, and hid the bit of hair that grew on his legs. he felt smooth, pure and shiny. for once he was dainty, like a flower.

your eyes trailed back up, gazing lovingly into his. he could feel his heart pounding hard in his chest, threatening to rip out and ruin the nice fabric. he had to remember to breathe.

“who’s my pretty boy?” you settled in between his legs. he felt his chest heating up, and turned away from you. your hands curled around the flesh of his thighs, and pulled them over your own legs, so he was partially in your lap. his crotch pressed into the plush of your stomach as you leaned forward, moving his face so he was looking up at you again. “hey, no running. answer me. who’s my pretty boy?”

a wave ran through vicent’s body, the blood now rushing from his head down to his cock. he could feel it twitch once again, rubbing lightly into his waist and smearing precum along his skin. he opened his mouth, trying to speak, but choked on his own words. he wasn’t good at talking, especially when in situations like this. you just watched as he squirmed under your amused eye, trying his hardest to say what he wanted.

if this was easier for him, he’d be chanting ‘me, me, I’m your pretty boy, i am’. it felt right. he, for once, was the muse. he was the model, and the art, and the statue posed elegantly in the museum. he was an exhibit, a display- but only for you. this was a private show. he wanted you to know that he knew his place.

he sputtered, gasping lightly when you pinched his chin between your pointer and thumb. you lifted it up, revealing his throat to you, and leaning in to press your mouth against the taut skin there. “c’mon, vincent, be my good little pet. speak.”

it felt as though someone had pressed down on his lungs, because a trembling whimper wheezed out. he swallowed thickly, finally managing to gather enough wit to say, “i-I’m… y-yours. I’m y-yours.” it was near silent, his voice hoarse from lack of use. but it was the best he could bring himself to do.

he could feel your lips curl into a satisfied smile. your hand went down his cheek and came to rest on his chest. his heart beat thumped heavy against your palm. your other hand, still clutching his thigh, dragged up his body to the bulge in his underwear.

“such a good boy, my good boy,” you praised, rubbing your thumb up the line of his shaft. he keened, back arching so he could press his torso further into your touch. he could feel the texture of the lace rubbing against his nipples, the growing sensitivity plaguing his body making him shudder at every small sensation. you responded by pinching the bud through his bralette, making him buck his hips.

“you’re so excitable today. is this too much for you?” you pulled away from your place in his neck. you examined his face. he was so happy his mask continued to protect him, because underneath his mouth was permanently open, hot breaths hitting the inside of the wax as his face shone with arousal. he knew his eyes didn’t hide how needy he was, but if there was any doubt, he shook his head to signal he was not, in fact, too overwhelmed.

he was at just the right amount, actually. his body was melting down into the bed, and his veins were filled with warm honey. he was in heaven. he wanted you to continue, to give him anything more.

like you were reading his mind, you tugged his panties down under his balls, and allowed his dick to flop up against his happy trail. the sudden freedom made him gasp in surprise. you positioned yourself so that you had full view and reach over him. one hand held his hip in place, while the other grasped at his cock, and began stroking.

vincent felt electricity surge up his body, and it showed as he suddenly thrust hard into your fist. he clutched at the blankets around him, finding little purchase, and instead just writhing against the bed. you were going too slow, but squeezing so tight around his shaft. you ran all the way down until your pinkie could dip and brush his balls, and then you’d move up to choke underneath his head, and swipe the precum off of his tip.

he moaned, coarse and rough, unpracticed. his head twisted to rest a cheek against the bed, eyes squeezing shut and mouth hanging open to allow freedom for his noises. they spilled out messy against the mattress. whimpers and whines, barely audible pleas that didn’t make sense; it all leaked out between panting breaths.

“you’re such a beauty, vinny. you’re so cute, moaning like that. you must feel real good, huh?” he nodded immediately at the question, adding a hard thrust up into your hand for emphasis. you giggled, the sound like acupuncture needles pinching into his nerves. it relaxed him, turned him to mush. “I’m glad. you deserve it. you deserve to feel good, and feel appreciated, and feel worshipped. all that nice stuff.”

you ceased your stroking. it was sudden enough that vincent choked out a loud whine, sitting up on his elbows. you tutted him, pushing him back down against the bed. “calm down,” you cooed, maneuvering yourself so that you sat over his legs. “i just wanna give you more. you want that, don’t you? you want more?” vincent nodded enthusiastically, his hands moving to hold your hips now. he squeezed, feeling your flesh move out between his fingers, and fill his palms. he wanted to smother himself in you.

while he was focused on finding a good handle on you, you raised your hips up above his own. your hand barely touched his cock as you guided his tip to your hole. it was when you slipped the head inside you, letting it barely pass by your lips, that vincent was once again ripped down to earth. without much thought, he pushed his hips all the way up into you, sheathing himself quick within your walls. it made you whimper in surprise, and he soaked up the sound, letting out his own moan of pleasure in response.

“you’ve been so good, vinny. fuck me. take what you want.” you leaned forward on your arms, stabilizing yourself before beginning to grind your hips back on the man below you. vincent’s own grip tightened on you, before he began to thrust up into your warmth.

he felt like a slut, but a pretty one for sure. the lace of his panties left imprints in the backs of your thighs, and as he fucked up into you, his garters jingled lightly against his legs. he couldn’t stop his hips from rutting into you, almost primal in the way he buried himself into you over and over.

you looked like a dream to him, taking him so well. you looked down at him with such adoration, it was like a heat lamp was focused on his face. he could feel the sweat beginning to stick to the surface of his skin, and the room filled with the sweet aroma of sex. he breathed it all in deep, memorizing his surroundings to use when he was alone and missing your embrace. he burned you into his vision, and every wet slap of his cock into your hole was committed to memory.

you let the weight of your body fall to one arm, bouncing back on his dick as your free hand found the middle string of his bra. you pulled it, tugging him up and to your chest. he quickly wrapped his arms around you, holding you close and pushing you back so you sat completely in his lap. for a moment, the thrusting stopped. you just sat, panting gently as he held your body close, the set of undergarments stamping intricate patterns into you both. you pressed your lips hard against his throat, opening them only to begin sucking and biting along the space there. he let his head fall back, beginning to whimper when your hips began to grind down into his cock.

he felt helpless. pleasure pulsed through every inch of his being, and the weight of you on top of him felt divine. it reassured him he was there, in the moment, and it wasn’t all some wet dream. your hands ran over his shoulders and tangled in his hair, and you pulled him flush against your body. where you began and he ended was a mystery. it felt right.

he leaned closer into you, guiding you down until you were laying against your back. he pushed your legs wide open, moving so that he could be as deep inside of you as possible. it was your turn to breathe a moan, eyes fluttering shut.

he watched you, mapping out every small detail of your body; every valley and hill, every bump and mark. he leaned over you, letting his hair fall around his neck and become curtains around his face. in this light, he looked like an angel, adorned in fine silks and innocent white fabric. but the sheen of sweat, and the red peeking down from his face spoke of only sin.

vincent braced himself, before beginning to fuck down into you. it was a quicker pace than previous, his patience running thin. he didn’t want to just tease himself anymore, he needed to be selfish. he wanted to be. he wanted to drown in your aura, to cover himself in you and everything you could give him.

your fingers looped into the garters, pulling his hips down into you with each thrust. even as he was towered over you, you found a way to hold him by the reigns. he felt so controlled. he was nothing but a doll, a silly little puppet to be played with and used. it was his rightful place.

he pumped into you, being guided by you even in this moment. he grunted with every thrust, his pace becoming sloppy and uneven as a knot tightened in his stomach. out of instinct, a hand flew down to your clit, and he began rubbing it with determination. you always came first, you were in charge, he was here to please you. oh, how he had changed- once so frightening, now nothing but a play thing.

you moaned, and the sound didn’t help his battle to hold back his orgasm. it filled his head with fog, and he let out desperate whimpers as he held himself back.

“you can cum, vinny, it’s okay. cum if you need to, okay?” your words, while reassuring, fell on deaf ears. he was focused, nothing would stray him from his goal. he readjusted himself, now angling perfectly so that he met your g-spot with every rut. he drank in the sounds you let out in response.

vincent continued his work, circling your clit with his thumb while bumping his head into that good spot inside you. the look in his eyes was feral, but filled with purpose.

he could barely breathe when you came on him. it happened so suddenly, with no warning to be had. you orgasmed, and your walls tightened and squeezed around his cock. he tried to keep his eyes open, tried to watch the beauty that was your climax, but he couldn’t. he came in an instant, doubling over your body and collapsing down into your chest. spurt after spurt of hot cum spilled into your cunt, filling it until semen spilled out around vincent’s cock. he shuddered, hiding his face in your collarbone, while his moans spilled shakily out of his mouth.

you stroked his hair, catching your own breath while he rode out his orgasm. it had been a wave for you both; starting high, crashing hard into him, and then pulling back out to the distance. he laid in the low tide, relaxing in the warmth.

“you did so well. you’re such good boy, and so cute too, even when you’re coming. who’s my pretty boy?” you hummed, patting his back gently. he breathed deep against your chest, laying fully against you now, letting his cock slip lazily from your hole. he wasn’t in a rush to clean up. he needed a moment to breathe anyways.

“i’m y-your pretty boy…”

#slasher x reader #slashers #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair

284 notes · View notes

tbgblr2 · 2 years ago

Text

Jane's Birth

Just a heads up - this one is a transcript of quite a detailed roleplay I had with someone - I've converted it from 2 people first person to 1 person first person (if you can figure what I mean) so if you spot any unexpected times when the references to people in the story are wrong, give me a shout, I've proof read this a few times and I'm sure some might still slip through... all being said... enjoy!

---

I walk in the door after a day at work and I hear a shout at me to come into the kitchen. I duck my head around the door and I’m startled to see Jane, my wife leaning against the kitchen counter, head down and pressed into her hands. Her hips are swaying. I recognise the tell-tale signs of contractions coming in thick and fast. “How long have you been like that… and more importantly, why didn’t you ring me?” I ask, dropping what I’m carrying onto the floor to hold her from behind, my hands wrapped around the lower half of her belly.

My wife, Jane, relaxes as she feels my hands on her bare belly, her leggings pulled down below the low orb. Her swollen tits are hanging down, her tank top barely covering them. She exhales a big breath out as the contraction begins to subside.

“About 15 minutes ago I felt a huge pain in my lower belly,” she says, picking her head up and turning toward me. “It didn’t feel like a contraction and then when it came again 8 minutes later and wrapped around my back I changed my mind. I knew you were almost home - I didn’t want to worry you”

Her swollen belly hangs low between us and the half shirt is wet where her nipples began leaking. I look over her - her long dark hair is in a messy ponytail. I’ll have to admit, the messy labour look is turning me on. My hips rub against her ass, resulting in my cock is straining to get out, but suddenly another contraction begins.

My hands rub around the distance of her belly as she begins to groan as the contraction picks up. I feel the orb between my hands tighten as the contraction builds. My warm hands roaming around in circles has her appreciating them being there. Her ass pushes back into my hips as she works through the pain feeling the hardness in my pants. She’s suddenly grinning knowing what that means. Lifting herself up off the bench with her hands she presses back into me as she announces that nipple stimulation can help speed up labour. I soon catch on and rub my hands up from the orb at her midsection to push my hands under her tank top and grasp her breasts, which were heavily inflated due to the pregnancy. As my hands roam and pinch the hard nipples simultaneously she reacts with something between a groan and a sigh.

Immediately her senses are overloaded: the pain of the contraction, the pressure in her pelvis from the baby, the tingling sensation all over from my gentle yet firm twisting and pinching of her nipples. She mentions that her clit started to feel tingly and twitchy as a direct result of my expert nipple play.

She’s now groaning through the rest of the intense contraction, letting out a big sigh when it’s over. Her hands move to her hips and peel off her leggings and lace panties. Her shirt came off next. Looking around at me whilst lifting off her top, she spots some wetness on my pants from precum and smiles wickedly.

“You wanna fuck me? Help finish the job?” she says, rubbing her belly and lifting it from underneath.

My grin is mischievous as my finger traces a pattern up and down her belly causing her to flinch and shudder. “They say semen is good to soften things up… let’s test a theory”. I tug down my jeans, kicking them to the side, my top gets pulled off soon after leaving me naked, my cock standing to attention. I spin her around so she faces me, as I pull in close so her belly presses into me. After a deep passionate kiss I lean her back, so her elbows rest on the table as her legs widen leaving her opening inviting for me. I move towards her, my cock twitching as it’s target is near. My hands grasp both cheeks of her ass and I plunge into her waiting pussy, a soft whimpering of her voice announcing me entering as I press further and further in.

Her nipples harden as she watches my thick, hard cock slide into her swollen pussy as best as she can around her large filled belly. “The same hard cock that got me pregnant is going to help me birth your baby” is suddenly whispered almost sensually from her.

As my cock pushes further into her, she takes deep breaths as the pressure in her pussy is amplified by the pressure in her ass and hips from this baby coming down, pressing against her cervix.

My wife grabs my shoulders as I thrust, one hand reaching out to pull her long dark hair, the other grabbing her ass.

After a few minutes of intense fucking she announces that she feels a contraction coming on. Her hands go immediately to her hardening belly, breathing and moaning as it begins to build and intensify. “Fuuuuck” she moans elongating the sound “I’m having a contraction!”

My hands chase hers to grab her belly as I feel the contraction tighten. As she moans and groans as the pain picks up, I increase my thrusting, with our hands all focused on her belly it results in her breasts bouncing up and down with each thrust. My lips head to her neck, light presses with my lips grazing over her skin. She’s a complete mix of emotions, caught between the intensity of a contraction at one end of the scale and the thrusting shoves as I press into her and glancing pecks of my lips at the opposite end of the spectrum. It’s enticing and overpowering all at the same time. One of my hands sneaks down from holding her belly and reaches between her legs, 2 fingers tracing down the underside of her belly to the gorgeous ‘v’ shape as her pelvis reaches her pussy, sculpted hair being tousled by my fingers before those same fingers split, rub over her lips and come together into her slit, finally touching her clit. She moans out completely unable to deal with the sensations. She has zero time to sort out the sensations running through her body. As hard as she tries, she couldn’t get in the mindset to orgasm. The contraction pain and the pressure in her pussy combined were so intense. She loved it. She shook out her head, her long, dark hair fell behind her shoulders, tickling her back and making her shudder.

As soon as I feel the contraction has subsided I lean back, enjoying the sight of her breasts resting on top of her fully developed bump. I grin as I kneel down, her view of me obstructed by her belly as my tongue starts to explore the area between her legs where my fingers were teasing only a few moments earlier. The second my lips and tongue touch her clit, she cries out in intense pleasure. Her hands move down to my head, pulling me you closer to her clit.

“Fuuuck babe,” She groans.

“Everything ok?” I ask with slight concern.

“You’re gonna make me cum,” she moan loudly.

I chuckle with a menacing tone and begin sucking, flicking and nibbling her clit, tasting her juices and feeling her shudders. After a couple of minutes, her breathing gets faster and she grabs my head, pressing her swollen pregnant pussy into my face.

“I’m gonna cum” she cries out once again. Her breathing turns into a quick pant, and with her orgasm imminent, I slide 2 fingers into her dripping pussy. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” she screams. Her panting intensifies and I feel the squeeze of her pussy as she’s overcome with an intense orgasm.

Her pussy is dripping all over her legs and it soaks my face. When I take my lips off and slowly get up, I leave a trail of wet kisses on her hips, her belly, and as I get to her tits she begins to feel another contraction.

“Ohhhhhh ugh,” she groans. She grabs my forearms as the contraction overtakes her belly and squeezes hard.

“Breathe baby breathe,” I say resting my forehead against hers.

She tries to slow her breathing down and relax as the contraction peaks, but never releases my arms.

As her grip tightens on my forearms my hands move to her hips, swaying her gently side to side. Her head is down, eyes closed, focusing on the course of the contraction. My body presses against hers, her belly pressed tight against mine to the point where I feel the wriggling of our baby through her tightened muscles, her constricting womb giving it some displeasure as it’s home is closing in on it. As the contraction starts to ease she opens her eyes and looks up, a smile forming on her face as she looks up to stare into my eyes.

“One hell of a grip you have there” I grin back at her as she releases her hold on my arms. “I think it would be better down there” I advise as I guide one of her hands down past her belly to my cock which has remained hard and slick with pre cum as she focused on the contraction.

“That contraction was intense,” she says smiling at me. “Not only are you an incredible lover but you are an amazing partner who is always there to care for me.” As I slide her hand down she smirks knowing what is in store.

“You want my tight grip there, eh?” As she rubs the head of my slick cock with her thumb, knowing how sensitive it becomes if left unattended. As her hand slides up and down with a firm but pleasurable grip, she take a pause to massage my balls and slide a finger just behind them and press into my perineum because she knows how much it drives me wild.

“My hand or my mouth?” She asks.

“Both. Either… just do it” I reply.

We swap positions, I lean back against the kitchen counter so she can comfortably kneel down and reach my cock with her mouth.

She begins with her hand. Slow long strokes with just enough firm grip to make me remember what it’s like to fuck her tight pussy.

Her other hand rubs her belly in an effort to soothe the pain or the child inside. “How does this feel baby?”

“Mmmrrhmmmm” I groan loudly, eyes closed and huge smile on my face.

“Open your eyes.” she commands “I wanna show you something.”

I oblige, and see her hand moving up her belly onto her tits. She massages one for me, eliciting more groaning.

She takes her left tit in her hand and massages downward to stimulate her milk. She feels her nipples tingling, the left one getting rock hard and long, and squeezes it. Little drops of milk fall onto her belly, and I go wild again.

I fight against her to squat down to and take her tit in my mouth. But she presses me back. With her other hand still grasping my cock, she releases her hold on me and then rubs my balls whilst she strokes. I tense up with the familiar feeling of knowing I’m about to cum.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” she purrs, but feels her belly begin to harden as a contraction is coming on.

“Yea I’m gonna cum babe. I’m gonna cum.” I answer breathlessly.

“Cum on my belly. Please cum on my belly,” she says in almost whiny voice, trying to stay composed to enjoy my cum and get through this contraction.

I let out a loud grunt and pant heavily “I’m gonna coat your belly,” I say grabbing my cock out of her hand.

Her now free hand immediately goes to hold underneath her massive contracting belly. She’s now moaning louder and louder as the contraction is so intense. She announces that she can feel her cervix opening.

“FUCK” I bellow, grunting and panting as I paint her belly with my thick ropes of cum.

As I finish getting every last drop of cum on her belly, She begins to massage and rub her belly, my cum getting all over.

As I stand there, breathing deep to recover, she grabs onto me and lifts herself up. She paces around a little to get moving more. “The contraction isn’t easing up… I need to move”

She moves through the kitchen and into the bedroom, pausing half way through to grasp onto the sofa and dig her fingers in, panting breathlessly.

I watch as she finishes her journey to the bedroom and then into our large en-suite bathroom, where she leans over the sink and moan louder than I’ve ever heard.

I walk toward her, watching as her belly tenses up once more, then there’s a splash. Her water breaks with a gasp from her and tons of water splashing on the floor.

“My water broke! My water broke!” She says frantically.

I laugh and come to put my hands on her shoulders “I know, I saw baby.”

She turns to face me and I notice her belly is noticeably lower than it was before.

“I feel so much pressure in my pussy and in my ass,” she groans out.

“Oh boy…” I say. I know exactly what this means…

I get in close to her, my arms wrapped around her belly. “Pretty soon that tight little pussy is going to spread out like a flower and you’re going to be pushing the hardest you’ve ever been.” I feel her shiver in response, almost an orgasmic reaction. My hand leaves her belly and moves between her legs from behind, 2 fingers entering her, curled up and wiggling in a ‘come hither’ movement. She almost threatens to collapse at my touch.

“Soon I’m going to be able to plunge these 2 fingers in deep and feel your cervix dilate, feeling the head of our child… and soon it’s going to be born through the same hole it was conceived in… and if I have my way… your face, breasts, belly… they’ll all be glistening in my cum”

Another contraction comes fast and hard. She begs me to check her cervix as she feels immense pressure. “Babe the pressure is so intense, I have to push,” she pleads.

“Not yet, baby not yet.” I say, suspecting that things still have a long way to go.

I lead her back to the bedroom and gently lay her on our bed. When the contraction ends I bring her legs up, knees bent and out to the side allowing me to slide the same two fingers into her wet, swollen pussy. She groans loudly as I reach up far to get to her cervix. She tells me it hurts. I feel around and check but as suspected, she’s not fully dilated yet.

“About 7cm baby. Head is really low but you can’t push yet.” I advise her. She lets out a whimper as I remove my fingers.

“I need to move around,” She announces. I help her get up and waddle out of our bedroom to the long corridor leading to the other bedrooms and bathrooms in our home. I watch her round ass sway as she walks. Her hands rest on the top of her belly as she stops and sways a little.

Another contraction begins and she moans. Her body takes over and tells her to squat through the contraction. She grabs the railing and lowers herself into a squat and starts to breathe and pant her way through the contraction.

I follow after her, squatting down behind her and running my hands up and down her back, the warmth helping her relax. “That’s it, breathe through it. You’re doing really well my love. Each pain helps bring you closer and closer to meeting the baby.”

Her focus jumps to admiration, giving me an “aww” noise at the comforting words. It doesn’t last long though as once more she’s gripping hard on the rail and making noises somewhere between a growl and a groan as her midsection hardens once more. My hands twist her head to the side and my lips meet hers, we kiss passionately for a few moments until she pulls off to wince again. “You’re doing great” I offer with a smile.

“Lean against me” I say, almost a command. I sit down on the carpeted floor as she falls backwards into my arms, we’re entwined together as the next contraction builds. She subconsciously spreads her legs and reaches down to grab my thighs, her vice-like grip once again clamped on my muscles, much to my amusement. My lips explore the side of her neck as she nuzzles her head into my chest. Finally my hands reach up to her breasts and I take my own time to play with her nipples, spraying her milk out in front of us. The nipple stimulation causes another contraction to rip through her though and she’s soon wailing.

Her nipples continue leaking milk even after I’ve released them from my intense pinching and tugging. My hands have move to her tight belly, as I feel this powerful contraction squeezing her massive belly. As she moans and starts to yell her way through this contraction she feels my cock twitching against her back getting hard. Finally, as the contraction subsides she turns around with a sly smile and asks “is my primal screaming and groaning turning you on?”

I confess whilst nodding “uh huh. It’s really hot,” nuzzling her neck and rubbing her belly.

“Well my water broke so we can’t fuck,” she said… I could almost feel a sense of dejectedness at that statement.

“Oh that’s ok. Get upon your hands and knees,” I tell her. She manages to lift herself up a little, then rolls over and gets on all fours.

“Good girl,” I say “I need to cover you in my cum.” I kneel behind her with one hand stroking my cock and the other gently stretching her pussy.

“I’m having a contraction,” she screams out.

“Breathe deep baby. You got this. Nice deep breaths,” I coach her whilst jerking off.

“It hurts so bad,” she moans out.

“I know baby, just keep breathing,” I said as my fingers stretch her pussy. I know it won’t be long before she’s pushing…

I’m positioned slightly to her back left quarter as she bobs back and forth on her hands and knees, rocking away the pain of the contraction. My left hand jerks back and forth, feeling a little strange as my preference is to use my right hand. My right hand however is rubbing her back and occasionally reaching down between her legs.

She asks to be checked time and time again, somewhat delirious with the pain, and each time I comply with plunging two fingers deep into her and poking around. “Still not there yet, just keep on riding those contractions” I tell her, sounds of pity in my voice, and frustration in her at each answer.

Finally at her wits end she whines “my knees hurt, help me up” so I get up and move around in front of her to help lift her up. As I do so, my engorged cock is front and centre in her view as she rolls over onto her ass to get a lift up. She leans forward and kisses the end “at least someone is having fun” she chides.

“Right now I’m wanting to make sure you’re settled, or else I’d have cum minutes ago” I admit - again, her hormone soaked brain responded with an “aww” sound, soon replaced by an “ooh” sound as the next contraction picked up.

“Let’s get you on your feet, use gravity to help” I suggested as she nodded, reaching down to help her up again. She only managed to take 2 steps before she sunk back into my arms.

“Squat” she grunted, as I lowered her down. Her hands snaked under her belly to press into her pussy “head… it moved… it’s there… need… to… PUSH”

I’m behind her holding her weight right now and can’t check her over myself “just go with it if it feels right, don’t push if you don’t feel any movement… go on girl, let’s see our baby”

She gives a tepid push to see how it felt. She knew if it was painful she wasn’t dilated enough. It hurt. Our midwife said that little grunty pushes right at the end of transition would help relieve that pressure and coax her cervix open the whole way. She drew in another breath and did some small pushes.

“Unnnngh. Unnnngh. Unnnngh.”

“That’s it. Use that contraction.” I say.

She gasps after trying “nothing, no movement… mustn’t be ready”

She begins panting as the contraction subsided. “Help me stand babe” she asks. I heave her and her massive pregnant belly up. My cock is still throbbing.

“Can we fill the tub? I need some relief.” I give her a long kiss and go into our room then off to the en-suite to fill the jacuzzi tub with warm water, grabbing my phone on the way.

As the tub was filling, I tap a message to our midwife, unsure if Jane had let her know that things were happening. I get a reply almost immediately – seems she hadn’t been informed, but she assured me she was on her way.

Jane presses her hands her my lower back and slowly waddles back to the bedroom.

“Go sit down honey” I call out as she lowers herself onto the foot of the bed. She sits down and puts her hands on her belly, legs spread and tilted forward to let the belly hang.

After a while, I walk over slowly stroking my aching cock.

“Jane, open your mouth,” I murmur. She looks up at me and willingly obliges, as I thrust my cock into her wanting mouth.

She was not quite ready for the girth and length of my cock to be plunged in so forcefully, resulting in her gagging and choking, so I withdraw to the point where only my cock head is within her mouth, her lips suctioning on it like some sort of lollipop.

“That’s it baby, do what you do so well… take your mind off the pain and focus on the pleasure” I say as her head starts bobbing back and forth. Another contraction builds and she starts to pant still with my cock in her mouth the breathy puffs surprisingly erotic blowing air past my sensitive tip causing it to twitch.

“Spit it out if it gets too much” I say “don’t want you biting down and causing an injury” - I’m only a little concerned I know she has her wits about her enough to know that. Her head bobbing up and down with her nodding in response sends shockwaves as her lips slide over the bulbous area of my glans.

I’d essentially been edging myself for around half an hour at this point and I could feel things tighten up ready to explode.

She must have sensed the same thing, the twitching of my cock, the change in my breathing or whatever but she suddenly doubled up her efforts. I grab her hair and move her head with my thrusts, her saliva mixing with my own juices to leave my cock slick moving back and forth. Just as I feel myself approaching the point of no return she forcefully jerks her head back, spitting out my cock as she scrunches up her face and grits her teeth, the contraction getting too much.

I couldn’t help the next moment though as my cock streamed out another load of white cream, direct into her scrunched up face, an unfortunate coincidence which broke her concentration on focusing inward during the contraction leaving her gasping with pain.

“Shit, shit, shit…” I apologise as I jump by her side to hold onto her. Her hands grip mine and squeezed as hard as she could, holding her breath.

A few moments later the contraction passed its peak and she finally breathes again, releasing my hand.

“Sorry…” she says meekly “all came as a bit of a shock there… didn’t know what to do”

“It’s all good baby” I offer “you’re doing the work here, I’m just along for the ride”

She smiles and wipes her face as one of the drops of cum slips off her face and onto her breast.

“Does that count as belly, face and breasts” she manages to giggle.

“Hell no… give me time and I can get another load going” I grin in response “those magnificent boobs deserve their own tribute”

She cuddles into me as another contraction builds.

“Come on, on your feet quickly, the bath will be filled, let’s get you cleaned up and submerged… see if the water helps”

“Quickly??” she answers sarcastically, “I’m the size of a 747 and you’re saying quickly?” I help her to her feet in an awkward way – she’s trying to find her centre of gravity with a huge belly in front of her.

We take a few steps and she has to stop. She leans into me, panting. I move my left hand down from her arm and onto her hard belly, beginning to lightly massage in a downward motion as if to help get things moving or help her focus where to push. She tells me It feels so good. In between pants she manages to get out “Lower. My clit. My clit.”

I smile wickedly as my hand cups her swollen pussy and two fingers rub her clit hard. “Are you gonna cum for me?” I ask.

She nods her head whilst still laser focused on her breathing. As the intensity of my fingers increase so does her contraction. She vocalises loudly, almost bordering on screaming, she tells me she feels an intense orgasm build up. “Cum now,” I command as I press my fingers into her pussy.

She relaxes her muscles and lets go. Her orgasm is so intense she cannot deal with all of the sensations so just begins screaming and grunting. As the orgasm consumes her, she holds her belly from underneath and just keeps grunting. My cock is rock hard again at the performance. She flops against my body gasping as she comes down from the combined orgasm and contraction, finally allowing me to lead her to the bathroom.

I push the door open with my leg as we stumble along into the bathroom as I guide her to sit on the side of the bathtub for a second whilst we both compose ourselves. Knowing we only have likely a few moments before the next contraction I support her as she swings her leg over the side of the tub and dip it into the water. Holding her tightly I support her as she proceeds to swing her other leg in and finally I help lower her down into the water.

“That’s… that’s almost as orgasmic as what you did to me before” she smiles, rubbing her belly and sloshing the water around almost playfully. “There’s a contraction building but it’s about what… a quarter as painful… damn I should have done this earlier”

I’m smiling back as I enquire “So… water birth” with a grin.

“If it helps this much I might well do it”

I put on a pouty face “but if you do this under water, I can’t really see this little slit” (as I reach a hand between her legs and slide a finger up and down between her lips) “part open nice and wide” (as I open two fingers to part her lips) “and get you to push out our baby to my waiting hands”

She’s practically panting at both the touch and my words, the tension in her midsection reaching its peak. Her hands are rubbing furiously. She leans her head back and lets out another low groan, the pain reaching its peak and exceeding even what the relaxing sensations of the water can mask.

I take a washcloth and soak it in the tub, the warm water-soaked fabric wiping her face removing the remnants of the recent ejaculation from it. “Get in here and check me” she gasps “I think you might have moved things on after your recent success at getting me to cum”

I step over the bath and climb in, squatting down between her legs. I push one back and offer it to her hand, she grasps hold, keeping her opening exposed for me. My fingers reach in and I nod. “Yep… you might well be there… can’t feel much of the cervix… oh fuck… this is it… I think we’re ready to push!”

She’s still holding her leg bent as she takes in a deep breath and bears down.

“Push babe that’s it.” I say, still massaging her pussy to make sure she’s stretched.

She pushes down, envisioning our baby coming down into her birth canal. She says that she feels the baby is low but not low enough that I’ll be done after just a few pushes. She then takes a deep breath and pushes again.

“Good girl, push,” I say. She winces as she begins to feel the sensation of stretching and grabs my hand moving it to her clit.

“Oooooohhhhhh” she moans, breathily.

“Do you still have the contraction?” I ask. She nods quickly and I rub my thumb round and round on her puffy clit.

“Uuuuugggggnnnn,” she groan as she pushes. She’s hoping that the orgasms and contractions help her push this baby out.

“That’s my girl puuuuush.” The contraction ends and her brain focuses on her clit and the slowly building orgasm.

“I need to cum,” she whines. She’s sitting legs crossed with her belly hanging low blocking my view of my hand playing between her legs. “I need to cummm. I need to cummm.” she hum-moans over and over, almost a mantra to herself.

“That’s my girl. Cum for me. Cum for me.” I say in her ear. She looks up to realize my other hand is jerking my cock to finish off the promised trifecta.

I press my thumb against her clit hard and feel her swollen pussy lips contract with her intense orgasm.

“Cum for me,” I growl in her ear. She relaxes her shoulders and clutches her belly as she screams “FUCK ME. I’m cumming. I’m cumming!”

She’s panting hard with her orgasm, and leans back to get an eyeful of my cock, aiming it at her chest.

“I’m gonna cover you with my cum,” I gasp.

“Cum on me baby,” she manages, breathlessly.

“Yea babe, yea I’m cumming I’m CUMMING” I shout as my balls begin to pulse and once again my cock is shooting out thick ropes of cum all over her tits and dribbling down her belly.

She screams almost simultaneously with my cumming, hands scrabbling around her crotch as she feels the skin begin to part and stretch as she involuntarily pushes. She’s at the point where there is no holding back and her body is forcing this on her.

“Push my legs back… open me up” she manages to weakly grunt out. I jump to action and grab her feet, pushing her legs back at wide angles allowing me to stare at her crotch starting to show the tell-tale bulging that’s associated with the head being held just behind her lips.

“It’s big… massage me” she gasps. My hands grab for some oils which I rub into her skin feeling the hardness of the baby lodged between her legs. My fingers are working the skin, up and down the folds, teasing the lips aside and of course, spending a little longer than is necessary around her clit. The next push has the first sign of your lips opening all on their own, but of course as she lets off the push, gasping for breath it slips back in as if nothing had happened.

“Get my vibe” she gasps as the next contraction picks up and she starts to push. I jump out of the bath, placing her legs safely to either side and she hears my wet feet slap away on the bathroom Lino as I head back to the bedroom.

I return a few minutes later from the bedroom with a small purple bullet vibe in my hands. “Ahh… the little purple pal” she grins weekly, taking a moment of rest between pushes. I scramble back into the bath and press it into her clit, turning it on.

The ripples within the water as the vibe does its thing seem to amplify the sound even though it’s underwater at this point, but it has the desired effect with her… she’s scrambling backwards in the bath trying to get some sort of purchase as she’s assaulted both inside and out, impossible to do anything but scream as she starts another push

Gasping between contractions, she says she’s feeling like she can’t get on top of the contractions to manage them and just screaming and pushing because the pressure is just too much. She says she simply can’t not push. The orgasms are helpful to redirect the pain however - the sensations in her clit feel amazing. After the next contraction ends she gets up on her knees.

“Babe I need to get out. I can’t manage these contractions in the water,” she manages, hunched over clutching her belly.

I help her out, wrapping her in a cozy robe. Her long dark hair gets tied up into a messy bun, with little curly wet tendrils hanging down. I pull her in for a hug and kiss her forehead. Using the robe to get her dry I then towel myself down and get into a pair of clean shorts.

She sheds the robe and begins walking around our bedroom, both hands at the small of her back forcing her belly to stick out further. I watch as her huge tits sway she walks, her hard nipples aching for relief. Suddenly she pulls up from her pacing “Oh my god babe did you call the midwife?!?!?” she exclaimed.

“Of course I did. It will still be a while until she’s here - you are ok. Baby is ok. Let’s just keep laboring this baby down,” I say, aiming to reassure her.

She nods and continues to support her back, resuming pacing. A few minutes have gone by and she is still waiting for a contraction. She’s irritable and nervous and just wants to feel like she’s had some progress. I can read it on her face.

“Come here darling,” I summon her over to where I’m sitting on one of the chairs in our bedroom. I have dragged over a birth stool our midwife left here on her last visit. “Sit, face me,” you command.

She awkwardly manages to sit on this low stool, her belly hanging down. My hands move from her shoulder down to her tits. I pull her close to me and kiss & bite each of her nipples before taking her breasts in my hands and without being too aggressive, massage and twist her nipples, eliciting a groan of contentment from my wife. My dick instantly gets hard. “This should bring on a contraction,” I murmur to her.

Her hands hold her belly as a contraction begins to slowly build. I hear her breathing speed up. “I’m gonna keep playing with these delicious nipples. Jane, let’s get some nice big pushes going, ok?”

She nods as the contraction builds. She’s sitting in a nice wide and low stance in the chair leaning slightly forward, legs spread. As I’m squeezing and massaging her breasts she scrunches up her face and starts to bear down, with hands under her belly she’s trying to pull it up from the underside as if to make the passage more direct. She grunts and groans as the contraction peaks, my massage of her breasts resulting in milk dripping all over my hands and onto her belly.

The head does what it did last time, bulge out, I manage a slight peak of it between her lips and it slinks back in again once the pressure stops. “Good girl, go again” I say. She starts once more, soundlessly this time as she holds her breath.

“Don’t do that… breathe through it, you know you need to keep plenty of oxygen flow” I scold her. She gasps as she realises what she was doing and takes in a big gulp of air. “That’s better, keep on doing that and we’ll see our baby in no time”

“Tell me how long I should push for” she blurts out as the next contraction starts to peak and I help you along by counting from 1 to 10 slowly.

“Good girl get as many of these 10 second pushes in as you can in each contraction.”

As the next contraction builds, I grab one of her hands from under her belly, my own hands leaving off her breasts for a while as I place the hand I grabbed between her legs. Pointing 2 of her fingers as she pushes, I lead her to stroke the tiny bit of emerging head as she’s pushing, the shock of it breaks her concentration and she’s left howling though the remainder of the contraction not able to get back unto composure to push, but it has the desired effect “I could feel him” she gasps with a big grin on her face.

“Yup… our nice BIG boy” I reply, with emphasis on the size of the baby she’s carrying.

My phone beeps as we’d missed it ringing on silent. I listen to the voicemail as she’s panting away the effects of the last contraction.

“Shit, midwife’s stuck in traffic says she will be at least another 30 minutes if google traffic is accurate” I exclaim, concern evident in my voice.

“Fuck… no time for that, grab my hand, another one’s coming” she replies, too focused on the current situation to even consider any other external factors.

She braces herself for another intense contraction, squaring her hips on the birthing stool, tilting her belly forward and starts to breathe deep.

“Ok push babe,” I say as I’m answered by a moan and grunt. “That’s it good job! Keep going.”

She takes in another breath and moans with her next push. She can feel the baby’s head again at her pussy lips but after the contraction is over it slips back in.

“Come on Jane PUSH!” I shout as she pushes with all of her strength.

Nothing.

She holds her belly and tears well at her eyes as she begins to cry. “I just need to deliver this baby,”

“Shhhh. Shhh. Baby come here,” I say, kneeling down in front of her and pulling her into my embrace. I feel the sweat-soaked dampness of her skin, and the stickiness of her milk having dripped all over her tits and belly.

“You are doing an amazing job labouring this baby down. I know you’re frustrated and I want to meet him too. But we can’t go too fast; I don’t want that pretty pussy to get hurt.” As I say that, I lube up my hand with my precum and slowly massage her pussy lips.

She smile weakly at me. “That feels good,” she manages.

“What, this?” I ask, rubbing firmly and circling her clit with my thumb. She bites her lower lip and nods.

“Let me help you,” she says, grabbing my rock hard cock and giving it some long strokes. I can’t help but let out a deep moan. “I love your moans,” She whispers to me, even though she’s deep in the throes of her labour, she can’t help but play with me – perhaps it was taking her mind off things.

“Your birth sounds are making me horny as fuck. Those primal grunts and groans…” I say trailing off.

“I love when you tell me to push. Reminds me of when we play and you put things inside of me you want me to birth.”

“Jane I’m gonna cum,” I growl.

“Uh huh. I want you to cum on my tits and belly and then rub it into my pussy.”

That last sentence made me explode. I grabbed my dick and sprayed the cum on the bulging belly and tits in front of me. She begins to rub her nipples using my cum as lube. “I’m gonna play with my nipples to get another contraction going while you rub my pussy.” My cock is still rock hard watching her rubbing her hard nipples with a cum covered belly hanging low.

She breathes deeper as a contraction begins to build, and I go from rubbing her pussy to inserting 2 fingers. She begins moaning and grunting. “Push babe. Push my fingers out. Goooood job. That’s it.” She takes a quick break and goes back into it. She grunts sending all of her energy downwards into her belly and pussy. “Push again babe. Push.”

My fingers are still pressed into her pussy with my thumb twirling circles on her clit as she continues to pinch her own nipples, swaying back and forth as her contraction builds. Another strong push follows with my fingers forced out of her pussy. It’s leaking birth fluids which make my fingers sticky as I insert them once again feeling the hardness of the head right on the precipice. Once more another push, shoving my fingers out and another glimpse of the head - then she’s panting once again, the head retreating in. She growls in frustration and goes back at it again, her stamina clearly starting to waive. “I need to be wider” she pants “let me get on the bed in front of you and you need to pull my legs back nice and wide”

We scramble back onto the bed between contractions where she settles into my lap as I lean against the headboard. With her in front of me pulling her lips apart, I grab her legs and pull them back forcefully just in time for the next contraction. Suddenly there’s a knock at the door and we hear the front door opening “midwife” shouts a voice from the main entrance.

“Hi Jo… we’re in the bedroom, come on in… Jane’s having a tough time of it” I yell in response to the voice that entered the house. I heard movement in the front room and then suddenly the bedroom is bustling with activity.

First to enter is our midwife, Joanne, in her 50’s she had become an independent registered midwife about 10 years back after a lot of experience in a hospital environment. Following closely behind was her eldest daughter, Claire, who worked with her mother as another registered midwife, of course the most notable point of Claire as she entered the room was the prominent bump she carried, being around 8 months pregnant herself.

The couple surveyed the room “What do we have here… all looks good, just looks like you could use a little help getting this little one out” Jo said sympathetically - Jane had enough wits about her to nod in between contractions.

Jo sat down on the edge of the bed and positioned herself to get a good view between Jane’s legs as she witnessed the head start to bulge out, her lips spreading as they had done many times so far.

Jo’s hands reached in between Jane’s legs, her fingers surprisingly chilled from just coming indoors, causing Jane to flinch. She massaged Jane’s lips as she pushed, her growling voice raising to a yell as she put more and more effort into the contraction. Claire stood at the foot of the bed staring intently, her large belly making her lean forward as she rested her weight on her spread out arms. She gave some verbal encouragement from where she was standing “Come on Jane you’re doing great, we can all see the head you’re almost there”

Jo swung an arm back in Claire’s direction and as if on cue, Claire picked up a squirt bottle with a yellow liquid inside and handed it off to her mother. Jo squirted the oil between Jane’s legs and continued her massage, slipping the slick liquid between her lips, trying to remove as much as the skin to skin friction between the baby’s head and Jane’s lips. She muttered to herself almost under her breath “that’s it, keep it up, wonderful push” as Jane worked hard.

The results were positive. This time the contraction had some visible head left after it ended. Jane is left panting with her exertions but the general feel of the room has her buoyant. Unfortunately she doesn’t have much time to rest, she’s soon back at it. “Pull her legs back Andy, give her some room” commanded Jo, which I hook my hands under Jane’s knees and pull back. Jane’s hands have once again went back to her nipples as she squeezes and grinds them between her fingers, more milk freely flowing.

Jo presses Jane’s lips back against the head to assist as Jane howls out “It burns, it burns, stop it, stop it, fuck fuck! Ow! Ow! Ow!” but Jo continues against her protests,

“It’s good that it’s burning, it means you’re stretching well, just focus on pushing into it and you’ll soon see the end of it.” As the contraction ends Jane lets out a huge sigh. Baby’s head slides back and I notice Jane obviously losing her composure.

“This baby isn’t coming Jo,” she manages to say as she struggles through.

“Jane sweetheart it is coming I promise,” Jo says, inserting her finger inside of Jane once more, pointing out that they can’t get it too far.

Jane slows her breathing trying not to panic and grounds herself back to reality. From behind her, I lean in to kiss the side of her head and slowly move to her cheeks, neck…. All of it. Jane turns her head to me and we’re kissing full-on. Deeply. Passionately. I let go of her knees and rest one hand on top of one of the knees and the other hand moves to the belly where I begin to rub it.

“That’s the way…” Jo says to us smiling. “What gets baby in gets baby out.”

“Oh we know. We had a lot of sex earlier,” Jane said, showing a bit of a smirk.

A strange lull occurs, and a full 7 minutes goes by and Jane doesn’t have any pushing contractions. “Claire can you rub Jane’s nipples? We need a big strong contraction.” Jo says.

Claire scuttles around to find a way in, and does as she is asked, completely nonplussed at the intimate contact. She rubs a little more and I suddenly feel Jane’s belly begin to harden. “Come oonnnnnnn baby!” Jane screams out loudly.

“Ok big pushes,” Jo says massaging Jane’s lips again. She draws in a breath, our eyes lock and she’s pushing. Groaning and grunting she pushes away Claire’s hands and begins playing with her own nipples to get this contraction longer and stronger.

“Good pushing” encourages Jo “keep up the nipple stimulation if it’s helping too” she adds with a wink.

As she pushes through another contraction Jo gets Claire to sit at the side of the bed facing Jane and offers Claire’s and her own shoulders as makeshift stirrups for Jane to press her feet against. Jane gladly accepts wanting the better leverage and giving her something to push back into. The baby’s head is moving more and more out but it’s definitely slow going. As the contraction comes to an end Jo helps lower Jane’s legs back down and has Claire take over guiding Jane’s pushing for the next one as she gets up and goes to the bathroom running a hot tap to make a compress to rest on Jane’s skin. Jane is barely perceiving the movement in the room as the next contraction builds and she suddenly hears Claire’s voice speaking, “That’s it Jane! Nice and strong. Show me how I need to do it soon, you’re inspiring!”

Claire is genuinely upbeat and her positive attitude is keeping Jane motivated. She looks once more at me with a tiredness obvious in her eyes “can’t wait for this to be over though” she gasps. Jo returns a few minutes (and a few pushes) later with a washcloth that had been ran under the hot water, I could almost see the steam rising from it. She gently placed it on Jane’s perineum as she flinched back at the unexpected warmth and as Jo held it in place she instructed Jane back to putting her legs on her’s and Claire’s shoulders.

Jane’s suddenly pushing again, muttering about the burning sensation as her skin is stretched to its maximum limits. “Don’t let me rip, don’t let me rip… please… help me…” she’s mumbling to the room in general, slightly delirious at this point.

“Don’t worry no big baby has gotten the better of me before and you’re not going to be the one that breaks my perfect record” chided Jo. “Now stop your worrying and do what I say… push into it woman!” Jane holds her breath and pushes her head down to her chest, going full force for the rest of the contraction.

As Jane pushes the head to its widest point she has managed yet, she gasps and stops pushing when the contraction ends. Right now burning sensation is not stopping, the head is now at the point where it isn’t slipping back. She yells out “No contraction, but it burns, it burns”

Jo nods “you’re nearly there, almost crowned… keep your focus and pant through the pain… next contraction I want to see you give it everything you’ve got to get the head crowned then you can get a few moments to rest.”

Jane nods, panting like a dog in a summer heatwave trying to focus on the words when the next contractions starts to ramp up. “Jane, easy push. You’re almost full crown, so very easy,” Jo instructs. Jo applies counter pressure Jane breathes out a low moan and a steady, controlled push. “Excellent job Janey! Little more, little more.”

Jane gasps in another breath and as the baby’s head passes a crown, she screams and pushes, finally getting the baby’s head out in one rapid shot. I swear I heard her skin twang back like an over-tight bow string as the head came out.

Jane is delirious - “I can’t. I can’t I need a break,” she says gripping her belly and panting. “Honey I can’t do anymore. I’m so tired.”

“Don’t worry babe you’ve done everything you need to for now” I reply, grinning from ear to ear as I saw the effects of head pop out over the swell of her belly. The pressure behind it forced a splash of amniotic fluid almost the full length of the bed.

Jo checks around the head for the cord and presses her finger in between Jane’s lips and the baby’s neck, teasing the cord away from anywhere it could get snagged. “Good job mummy” yells out Claire, her hands cupped around her own belly “Not long to go now and you can hug your baby”

Jo directs Jane’s hand down between her legs where you feel the shape there, her fingers finding a thick mop of hair which she teases a finger through, smiling widely as she pant to get her breath back. “Rest now, have a moment, baby’s not going anywhere quick” says Jo as she observes.

I lean forward and whisper in Jane’s ear “That stretching was so sexy, you were soooo wide. Sorry… you might have a sticky patch on your back” trying my hardest to keep the discussion between us, but Claire’s face flushing red and her eyes opening wide in shock suggest I may not have been successful.

Jane manages a weak smile upon hearing my confession. “It’s ok babe,” she says quietly.

Jane spends a moment marvelling in the feel of baby’s hair. She mentions that the feeling of having this baby both out and inside of her is wild. She moves her hands up and rubs her baby belly for what might be the last time in this pregnancy.

“I’m gonna miss the belly,” She whispers to me. My own hands come around and rub the belly from her tits down to her hips.

“Don’t worry I’ll give you another one,” I replied.

“You better,” she chuckled. I laugh and plant a kiss on her neck.

“This is so uncomfortable,” Jane suddenly announces, saying her pussy is stretched so wide, and the baby, still half inside of her is kicking.

“Do you have a contraction yet?” Jo asked. Jane shakes her head to signal no.

I go back to the tried and tested method of nipple stimulation - I move my hands from the top of Jane’s belly onto her tits. I massage them to encourage some contractions, my fingers eventually move to my nipples.

“Let’s get this orgasmic birth, ok? Will you orgasm for me?” I ask.

Jane nods, eyes still closed. “Keep working my tits,” she says.

Jane moves her hands down to her inner thighs, mentioning that sensations are beginning to build for my next pushing contraction.

I play with Jane’s nipples between my thumb and forefinger, the attention making them rock solid and engorged. Whilst Jo is fully focused between Jane’s legs to make sure that everything is progressing as it should, Claire’s eyes are left to drift towards my hands moving back and forth. I absentmindedly wonder if she will take any of this on board when she comes to give birth, and a second thought of wondering how often she has seen things like this in the intimate environments of homebirth.

Jo has supported the baby’s head since it was born and she’s still down there using gentle touch as the head rotates as it should to help make the shoulders pass easier. Jane gets the urge to push and her now well-practiced actions over the past few hours spring back into work. Thankfully the sensations are nowhere near as forced as they were before - not as much stretching and burning, but the shoulders don’t just shoot out as we had seen several times on the demonstration videos we had seen during childbirth classes.

She breathes and starts again, Jo pressing down on the baby gently to help release one of the shoulders and once again, nothing much happens. Jane is trying to focus on the nipple stimulation and the butterfly kisses I’m applying to the back of her neck to the point where it’s starting to feel good, not fully grasping that she should have a baby against her chest by now. Another push and Jo sees the problem - a nuchal hand - a small wriggling fist came poking out from between Jane’s legs.

Jo looked up and fully focused on being professional she simply announced “looks like we have a bit more pushing to go than we first expected”

“Is everything ok?” Jane asks in a panicked state, completely snapped out of her arousal.

“Yea, someone just wants to wave hello on their way into the world.” Jo said “Janey flip onto your hands and knees so we can open your pelvis some more. Andy?”

Between myself and Jo, we help Jane awkwardly roll over on our bed. The sight is something to behold - massive belly, baby halfway out, mother exhausted. “You’re ok baby you’re ok. Just focus,” I tell her. Jane is finally flipped over and she’s literally in my face nose to nose on her hands and knees waiting for a contraction.

“Baby I want….” she trails off… “I want to have my orgasmic birth.”

“Shhh, Shhh, Shhh. I know baby I know. Just relax and focus.” I say brushing Jane’s hair out of her face.

My hands go to her engorged tits which are now hanging down low, her belly behind them, and whilst the vision in front of me was this sweaty tired woman labouring hard to give birth, she looked beautiful.

She surrenders to my touch and the sensations in her pussy and belly and just closed her eyes to focus on that. My forehead rested against her as my fingers rolled and rolled over her nipples.

“Come on contractions,” She moan. After another minute she tells me she feels one coming on.

“Ok Jane let’s do some biiiig pushes,” Jo said.

“Ok,” Jane manages, quivering. “I’m feeling so many different things I’m on autopilot.”

“You got this,” I say kissing her forehead.

Jane takes in a ragged deep breath and blows it out. The contraction builds and she draws in another.

“Push Jane,” Jo commanded. She shuffles her knees are apart and angled to open her hips, and instinctually she leans back a little as if she wanted to squat.

“UGHHHHHHHH,” She grunt loudly as she pushes.

“That’s it. Push.” I offer.

She draws in another breath and bears down. This time her voice goes deeper - a growl almost.

“Good girl, push Jane,” the midwife calls. Jane announces that she feels the baby moving.

“Big push baby. Big pushes.” I say.

Between the sensations and the primal nature Jane is birthing, she bears down one more time and feels an almost electric current running through her clit.

The baby is slowly coming out more, and between the nipple stimulation and her hearing me tell her to push, she simply lets go and lets her body do what is natural.

The most intense orgasm rips through her body, she’s unable to hold back.

She lets out a breathy moan and eventually it turns into her moaning “come,” and that’s when I realise that she is orgasming.

“That’s it baby let it go” I encourage her, I feel her hands shaking as the orgasm surges through her. Her moans turn to whimpers as she feels every fraction of inch of the baby move through her pussy into Jo’s waiting hands.

Finally after hours of effort Jane gives a final grunt as our baby’s chest, hips, legs and finally feet are pulled out of her.

Claire clapped almost ecstatically “Whoa mamma you did well, that’s one big baby”

Jane rolls back over to be handed our baby to her chest. “You’ve had a long day as well as me” Jane coos at our son, the post orgasm high keeping her elated. Jo grabbed some towels and rubbed the baby down resulting in a mewling cry. The baby was measured to be almost 10 pounds, and thankfully Jo remained her perfect ‘no tear’ record.

A short while later, as Jo was writing up her notes Jane reclines, nursing the baby.

“Thanks” I say to Jo and Claire. Jane pipes up “Same time next year?” - she is still sitting there with a beaming smile on her face.

Jane lays back in euphoric exhaustion as our son nurses half asleep on her chest. Jane says contractions are still rolling in, but Jo and Claire advise that’s probably just the uterus getting ready for the placenta to detatch.

After 15 minutes when the cord stops pulsing I clamp and cut the cord and our son is handed off to Jo for some more exams. I stand in awe of our new child, watching Jo do her checks while Claire helps Jane get tidied up.

“Still contracting?” She asks as she rubs Jane’s belly hard.

“Yea, but they’re not as painful,” she replies. As she massages Jane’s belly, waiting for the placenta to detach, Jane says she feel like Claire is constantly touching something heavy.

“Ouch. Claire, I feel something giving me pressure,” She says rubbing her belly around the area of her cervix.

“It’s your placenta dear,” she says “let’s see if we can get you some harder contractions, play with your nipples”.

Jane doesn’t need to be asked twice of course and reaches up to rub and pull at her aching nipples. I feel a contraction build after about 30 seconds, “OK give a push” asks Claire.

Jane draws in a breath and give a small push. Claire feels around Jane’s belly and looks concerned.

“What is it?” Jane exclaims, somewhat worried. This caught my attention, so I come back over.

“I’m going to go in and check your cervix, OK?” Claire advises, sliding her fingers inside.

Jane winces as it is incredibly uncomfortable. Claire’s feeling around Jane’s cervix and grabs her stethoscope.

“Jane, it’s twins. That’s a head,” she exclaims.

Jane’s jaw drops at Claire’s revelation. Jo looks up from writing her notes and looking over the baby with a similar expression.

“Can’t be” Jane gasps… “we had a scan… several… only seen one baby there.” She winces and grabs her belly as a contraction builds. Jo stops what she is doing and heads back over.

“Sneaky little things are babies… all it takes is one hiding behind another and you miss it… focus on one during an ultrasound and you might not realise there’s two there… isn’t an exact science”.

Jane groans “no shit Sherlock” as she starts to push once again, her head moving back to her chest.

The commotion in the room isn’t lost on the baby who is now crying in the corner of the room where Jo had been fussing over him. I grabbed him and held him close to my chest, rocking and shushing him. “Looks like you have a little sibling coming” I say quietly. Jane glances up from her pushes with wide, pleading eyes.

“We…we don’t have stuff for a second baby…” Jane blurts out but is soon pushing again unable to stop, her bodies need going above all else right now.

I’m smiling myself trying to keep her calm “we can worry about that later… right now, you need to focus on our new little bundle of joy.” I move in close so I’m almost touching Jane’s ear so only she can hear then whisper “and I get to see you stretch all over again, its like I’m going to have two Christmases this year.” With a shudder, I can see Jane appreciated the thought.

419 notes · View notes

missacidburn928 · 9 months ago

Text

Stories and Chapters I've posted over the last month. Plus a sneaky peek of my favorite part to write 😉

18+ Only MDNI Naughtiness abound here.

Madness in a smile. Won't you stay a while? (Why Did Love Put A Gun In My Hand Ch 3) [ ao3 tumblr ]

Avengers x POC!Reader "Jinx"

This part is specifically Thor x POC!Reader "Jinx"

...

From then on it was as if you were lost in the clouds of a thunderstorm. Your body being slammed over and over against the door as your pussy took a delicious beating. The bass of his groans and growls resonating through your bones like thunder.

You feel the stirrings of your orgasm on the edge of your consciousness. The room beginning to turn to a hazy dreamlike state before you eyes. As Thor’s thumb circles you engorged pearl with a practiced skill; that need to explode continues to build.

With a well placed attack to that sweet spongy spot inside you and a pinch to your clit; you’re a goner. Your orgasm rips through you like lighting striking through the sky. Scattering you into a million pieces before your gathered back together. Still swallowed in the midst of the storm.

You squeeze tightly to Thor’s giant like frame as you ride the storm together. You could swear you saw his eyes change color. As quickly as that thought occurs it is interrupted by the grip of his hands on your hips. With a thunderous roar, that no doubt was heard throughout the entire wing, he buries himself as deep as your bodies will allow. Pressing his forehead against yours as he fills you up. Your tight walls feeling every twitch as you milk him dry.

You've had plenty experiences after you healed and got away from Lucien. All to drown out the trauma and try and replace it with the pleasure you deserve. In all those times and all those experiences no one has every made you feel so treasured and present in your body as Thor has.

You look up at him with awe and a softness in your eyes rarely shown nowadays. “I see why women throw themselves at you. For such a brute you’re as sweet as a cinnamon roll inside. And clearly have a deep love and respect for women.”

“Women are truly the strong ones. They should be treasured whenever possible. Especially you little fox. I could happily become addicted to you. Whenever you need to ride the storm. To feel just how precious you are. Come find me.”

“You’re most certainly too sweet for me.”

“Nonsense.” He kisses your forehead and allow yourself to sink into his warmth. Like the sun after the most devasting of rains.

“Now let me show you all the perks your shower has to offer.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be tricky. My legs feel like Jello still.”

“I never said I was putting you down.”

...

You Were Finished Drabble II [ ao3 tumblr ]

Indie Rocker!Eddie Munson x POC!Indie Rocker!Reader “Sug” x Former Fuckboy!Steve Harrington

...

Under the covers, Eddie’s fingers have slowly been drawing patterns up your legs for the last 20 minutes. Each time he gets closer and closer to the hem of the well-worn Metallica shirt you changed into. If he keeps that up, pretty soon he’s going to find out that his shirt is ALL you have on and just what his lazy touches have been doing to you.

It seems that that time is now as he dips beneath your shirt and is met with wetness on your thighs. You squeeze his hand between them involuntarily. In that instant, there is nothing Eddie wants more than to end his day on the highest of notes. With you coming on his tongue.

He lifts his head and pulls you closer. He then spreads your thighs so that he may lay on his stomach between them. Making sure to rest his head back on your stomach. With a yawn, he slinks further down into the covers.

It’s not long before you feel the slide of this talented tongue against your clit. You’re trying not to make a sound but the way he’s gently circling your bundle of nerves has your resolve weakening. You let out a quiet whimper. Alerting Steve that something is going on.

Immediately his eyes travel down to where Eddie’s head is clearly under the covers. He can’t help but watch as with each shift and movement your body responds. He gives his own hard dick a squeeze as you give up holding it in and tilt your head back with a moan.

Pushing the covers off the bed he fully exposes just how greedy Eddie is being with his tongue. His hands are locked on to your hips, keeping you pinned to the bed as he takes his fill. Clearly attempting to erase the bad day he had at work.

He can’t blame him. There is something downright magical about your pussy. A cure all to whatever ails you and addictive to boot.

All Eddie is focused on is your pleasure. He doesn’t even notice that his hips have taken on a mind of their own as he grinds himself into the bed. He doubles down his efforts, tongue working overtime and is rewarded with a rush of your slick as you come undone.

This sets him off. With a groan he comes in his pants. Grinding his hips harder into the mattress as he continues his assault on your clit. Not stopping until you come on his tongue once more. Uncaring of the mess he’s made of his sweats and the sheets below him.

Steve, who has been watching from the sidelines as he strokes his thick cock, scoots closer to you and Eddie. He leans over to give you a sensual kiss while he continues to jerk himself.

“Gah, you two are just so fucking hot sometimes. I wanted to join but I was enjoying the show too much. Like my own personal live porn starring my favorite people.”

Eddie’s head is now resting on your thigh. A dopey content smile on his damp face. Lost to the haze of pleasing his girl so well. Bad day blissfully forgotten.

“Feeling good Eds? You should. Just look at how blissed out you made our girl. She’s practically a puddle.”

His smile widens at the praise.

“Such a good boy. I think you've earned yourself a reward. What do you think baby girl? Does our good boy deserve a reward?”

“Mmhmm.” You bob your head. “He most certainly does.”

“That’s settled then. Open up that sassy mouth pretty boy so I can paint it white.”

...

Strings Attached [ ao3 tumblr ]

Mechanic!Biker!Sy x POC!Reader

...

He slaps my ass, making me cry out, before clamping my mouth shut once more. “If your pussy keeps squeezing me like that Peach, this is going to be over sooner than I would like.”

So of course I purposely do exactly that. I clamp my walls around this girth and circle my hips as best I can in my current position. Rubbing my clit along the leather seat. I can feel a tingle begin to move up from my toes into my core. I’m right on the precipice of ecstasy and I want to take Sy along with me.

“So close.” I whisper out.

“I know, baby. I know.” He groans. “Be a good girl and come for me so I can fill you up. Wanna watch my cum drip out of you onto my seat.”

He picks up the pace and suddenly I feel like I’m flying. Goosebumps erupt along my skin, and I forget all about staying quiet as I come around his cock.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck you feel so good when you come on my dick baby.”

I lay there, riding the waves of pleasure as Sy fucks me through my orgasm. Just as the last pulses ring through my body, he thrusts in as deep as he can go. With his tip notched at my cervix, he growls and groans as he unloads inside of me. Hips twitching until the last drop is spent.

He slowly pulls out of me. Reaching forward, he spreads my cheeks. Admiring his seed leaking from my abused hole. “One of these days I’m going to have to film this. My mind never does it justice. And you really need to see just how damn sexy you look all swollen and dripping of me.”

“Why not just do it now? I won’t be moving without help thanks to that orgasm. Enjoy the fruits of your labor Beasty.”

I observe him reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. Taking his sweet time, he snaps pictures and even takes video from practically every angle.

Next thing I know his screen is before me with a video playing. My pussy, front and center, spasms. An aftershock most likely, and a fresh trickle of cream trails down my lips. I’m a mess, but I have to admit, he’s right. I do look sexy with his claim painted on me.

“Fucking perfection.” He whispers in my ear. “Now let’s get you inside and cleaned up, baby. I’m going to push my cum back where it belongs and pull your pants back up. Then I’m carrying you to bed.”

“Such a chivalrous beast.” I giggle.

“Only for you, Peach. What can I say. I’m attached. Strings and all.”

...

How Do You Love Me? (Bittersweet Part II) [ ao3 tumblr ]

POC!Reader “Lux” x Walter Marshall

...

The world around us has faded away. All five of my senses are locked in on the ways Walter is making my body sing.

I’ve lost the concept of time as he pulls orgasm after orgasm from me. Making me maintain eye contact as he takes me apart on his thick fingers and wide tongue. Praising me with each crescendo. “Such a good girl. Letting me love on you like you deserve.”

When I try and wrap my hand around his rock hard and angry cock, he slaps it away. “No love. I haven’t earned the right to be pleasured by you yet.”

I am denied twice more before he finally fits himself between my thighs.

He notches his precome soaked tip at my entrance. Grabbing my hands he raises them above my head. Intertwining our fingers as he leans forward.

Were face to face, mouths centimeters apart, the air in our lungs synching as we breathe together.

As I find myself getting lost in the blue depths of his eyes, he pivots his hips forward. Sinking inside of me and splitting me open on his generous girth. He captures my moan as it leaves my mouth with a kiss that steals the remaining air from my lungs.

“I love you more than my words can ever express. So I’m going to continue to let my body do the talking.”

He releases my left hand as he leans back and sets a pace that has stars glittering in my peripherals.

Walter has never been one to be very vocal during sex. Nothing more than your standard grunts, growls and groans. So I am taken by surprise when a whine escapes his throat. His eyes are squeezed tight as if the way my silken walls grip him is too much to handle.

I eat up every second of this gruff, rough around the edges man, surrendering to the pleasure of being inside the woman he loves. Practically begging to lose himself deep inside me.

“Come for me love.” He groans. “I need you to come on my cock. Need you to come so I can fill you up. Give you all I have left to give.”

He sounds so whiney and pathetic. A feral desperation to be consumed by me. It’s enough to tip me over the edge into a glorious free fall.

My pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice, as I bite his shoulder. Laying a claim of my own.

...

Eff Being Friends [ ao3 tumblr ]

Steve Rogers x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader “Ci”

? x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader “Ci”

Ex!Thor x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader "Ci”

Ex!Loki x POC!Goddess!Avenger!Reader "Ci”

...

Sam, having confessed who he thinks has the best ass, turns to you. “Truth or Dare Ci?”

“Dare of course. Why change it up now.”

“I dare you to get Loki to genuinely smile.”

You look at him quizzically. “You think you’re so smart. Prepare to be knocked down a peg or three bird boy.”

Standing you walk over to Loki, who has been leaning against the wall, observing all night. With a cheeky smile you wave your fingers and cloak yourselves in darkness that's not only soundproof, but is also time spelled as well.

You lower to your knees and snap Loki’s pants out of existence. The visual of you before him is enough to turn his cock hard as steel in front of your very eyes. You waste no time attaching your lips to the foreskin covered tip. Teasing the sensitive flesh with your tongue before sinking down to the hilt. You pull out all the stops. Sucking his cock until he comes down your throat with a roar. Savoring every drop as he fills your belly.

Removing the spell, it seems to the room as if only 1 minute has passed. It does not go unnoticed that Loki is relaxed while he continues to lean against the wall. Grinning like a loon.

This is when Steve notices your slightly swollen lips and quiet panting. Having been on the receiving end of that look many a time, he seethes. Cracking the glass of whiskey in his hand.

You give your turn to Loki so that you may catch your breath. It’s no surprise to anyone that he chooses Steve. “Truth or Dare Captain?”

“Truth. I have nothing to hide.” He challenges the God of Mischief.

“Alright.” He glances at you quickly. Catching you subtly lick your lips, most likely still tasting of him, grinning to yourself. “When was the last time you got your cock properly serviced and with who?”

Everyone assumes the answer will be you when you were still together a couple weeks ago.

With a cocky grin and sip of his drink he answers as he stares you down. “Yesterday after training with Sharon. She caught me on my way to change in my room and said I looked tense and needed a release. I took her up on her offer. Plus she gives decent head.”

He must have thought that you were going to be upset that he let poor lovesick Sharon suck his dick instead of getting the best head of his life from you. You couldn’t care less actually.

Not when you were getting dicked down in your own post training bath with Thor. It really is a great way to help stretch out and relax your muscles.

“Good for you Steven. You always are so tense after a rough training session. I know I was. Thor helped sort me out though.” You sweetly state.

“Are you serious right now? You two were practically on the verge of killing each other in the training room.”

“Great foreplay. Don’t tell me you never partook in post battle coitus with her. She is ravenous after any kind of rough play.” Thor, the sweet himbo that he is, adds in.

“Fuck this. I’m going to bed.”

“Should I call Sharon to come lick your wounds?”

“Fuck you Ci”

“Sorry not tonight, Cap.”

...

Follow my library page @missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway or ao3 for more goodies and to stay up to date with all the words I string together from the sandbox in my head 😈

#poc reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain syverson x reader #thor x reader #thor smut #steddie #steddie x reader #steddie smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #avengers x reader #avengers smut #walter marshall x reader #walter marshall smut

43 notes · View notes

senseandaccountability · 4 months ago

Note

Poetry prompts beloved!

“Each with his own weapons”

Perhaps something with Bull?

(Apparently protective Bull and Anne Trevelyan growing middle-aged together was my jam today, sorry/not sorry. Maybe minor Veilguard spoilers for the careful.) poetry prompts here Threadbare “You do know I can do this myself?” Bull looks up at her from where he sits on their bed, her prosthetic arm in his lap, as he meticulously unfolds the intricate fastenings. It’s a craft made from both magical research and dwarven engineering, a gift from Dagna several years ago now and one that has made Anne’s life easier.

“I know,” he says. “But I like doing it for you.” “I know.” She softens, leans into his care the way she has ever since Skyhold, their familiar pattern the only constant in a world where nothing can be counted on, not even the skies. Skyhold. Tarasyl'an Te'las; she has learned its original name by now, has learned everything she could get her hands on, and so far beyond this as well. It seems no longer than a heartbeat ago that they were in Orlais, yet here they are now, older and fatter and grayer. Threadbare.

But Bull’s unbroken, as though time and its accompanying softness has only hardened his natural resolve. “You haven’t been in battle for years, kadan-”

“Not exactly going to the battlefield, Bull, I’m going to see Solas, if I can. Varric says-”

Bull makes a sound, low in his throat as he gently lets her crafted arm slip into its slot. “Varric has the judgement of a fucking nug sometimes.” The unexpected insult makes Anne smile. “He has, yes.” She still dreams about red lyrium some nights, running from the monstrosities in the Fade. “But I’m not doing it for Varric, I’m doing it for Solas.” There’s an insult there, too, about poor judgment but it remains unspoken. “I’m coming with you,” Bull says instead. “To the Fade?” Her arm twitches softly under his touch as he adjusts the last bindings and accidentally pinches her. When he notices, he lets the pad of his thumb soothe the spot and Anne swallows. “No.” Some days Anne still feels the magic from the anchor in her bones, other days she hears the beat from it at the back of her mind, a soft, sad song of loss and regret. Whatever else it did to the Veil and the world, Fen’Harel’s magic has also shifted something in her and she can’t tell Bull about it, can’t let him worry more about her place in this upcoming war than he already does. They’re marching into it, each with his own weapon and she plays her cards close to her chest, pressing them to it with trembling fingers. “Damn it.” He straightens up, inches closer; when he places his large hands on her thighs and squeezes, she feels nothing but their connection, drowning out everything else. “Don’t trust Solas’s Fade crap any more than I trust Varric for battle strategy.” “Don’t worry,” she says, echoing her younger self in Haven all those years ago. “Whatever happens I’ll protect you.” “Not. Funny.” Bull’s voice is low and hoarse. Their kiss, when it comes, is harsh and a little desperate; it’s the first in a string of kisses, in her body adjusting on top of him as intuitively as breathing, in his arms around her, her hair tangled up in his horns. Afterwards she rests her head on his chest, the graying red strands enveloping it almost completely and Bull plays with them, wraps them around his wrist. “Come back to me,” he says, mouth pressed against her scalp. Anne lifts her head, looks at him, sees the warrior he still is; sees, too, that there are new scars on his chin, lines around his eyes and a gentler curve to his mouth than there used to be. “Always, Bull."

#iron bull x inquisitor #the iron bull #anne trevelyan #prompt fic

19 notes · View notes

vulpisnocturna · 1 year ago

Note

But also Madara for prompt 3 cause of course

You guys loved this one with Madara, so I went feral with it 💀

Link to NSFW prompt list

3) While laying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Character turns to reader after a while, and asks, You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?

NSFW - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: light exhibitionism, degradation kink, fingering, vaginal sex, the usual Uchiha creampie

It was already one in the morning, and you and Madara were lying face up on the bed, both of you scowling as moans and grunts resounded through the thin walls of the inn you were staying in. Your charming room neighbours had been going at it for at least an hour, and showed no signs of slowing down or stopping. You huffed, covering your ears with the pillow, but it was to no avail.

‘I hope it’s the best sex of their life’ you groaned. Madara let out a low scoff.

After a few minutes, though, you felt him snake a hand around your waist and pull you in, stroking patterns on your skin under the thin shirt you were wearing.

‘Want to fuck louder than them to establish dominance?’ he asked against your neck, and you turned around, lifting an eyebrow at him.

‘Are you really making this a competition?’ you asked, restraining a giggle. Madara gave you a lazy smirk like a cat caught in the middle of mischief.

‘I can fuck you better than they’re fucking each other. I can make you scream louder. Show them how it’s done’ he drawled, brushing your lip with the pad of his thumb.

Your breath hitched, and you tried to play it off with a laugh, turning around.

‘I’m not a damn exhibitionist’ you said. After a few seconds of silence, you rolled your ass against him, and you heard him shift slightly.

‘Mhm. Are you quite sure you’re not interested, my dear?’ he mused, a hand palming your ass. You feigned ignorance.

‘Just getting comfortable’ you said, eliciting a chuckle from him.

After half a minute, you did it again, lingering when you felt a bulge against your ass. Madara groaned, pulling you in when you tried to scoot away and groping your tits without any shame as he manhandled you to nestle his cock between your legs and rub it against your clothed cunt.

‘Minx’ he said, amused, latching on your throat to lick you and suck a lovebite. You rutted against him, humping him, shaky breaths tearing out of you as he played with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers and pinching them. You moaned, getting wetter and wetter as his cock pressed against your clit.

‘I should start by making you moan a little louder’ he murmured, his hand sliding under your panties, a pleased hum escaping him as he felt how wet you were.

You squirmed as he started toying with your clit, flicking it, stroking circles and little figure eights around it, rubbing it gently until you whined shamelessly.

‘That’s it- good girl. Let them hear how much you like my fingers between your legs’ he said, making your clit throb and you stomach drop at the idea of someone hearing you moan so filthily for him.

‘Oh? You like that? I thought you were no exhibitionist’ he chuckled, ‘dirty girl’

His fingers found their way inside you, and he curled them, pressing and rubbing against the spot that made you moan with no restraint.

‘Madara- ‘m close’ you moaned, little gasps and whimpers echoing in the room as he got faster, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit.

‘Make sure to moan my name as you cum, dirty girl. I want them to know who’s making you scream’ he said in your ear, nipping at your lobe. You clamped around his fingers, a loud whine pouring out of your lips as you keened his name like a broken prayer.

‘Messy little whore’ he crooned, yanking your panties down and turning you with your back against the bed. He pulled your shirt off and took off his clothes, kissing you roughly, one hand kneading your ass as he slipped inside you with ease, his thick cock stretching you out, making you moan loudly with the hypersensitivity of your post-orgasm.

‘Fuck- so tight and wet for me. You take my cock so well, my dear’ he pushed the fingers that had been inside you in your mouth, ordering you to open your eyes. You could only manage a half-lidded, dazed stare, and although his fingers muffled your moans as he started slapping into you, you were no quieter than before as you clutched his shoulder blades for dear life.

‘You look so fucked out, little one. What a sight you are. Bet all the guests here are thinking of you right now, cock-drunk and shameless as I make you mine. Bet they wish they could fill your tight cunt with their cum, but it’s my cum you beg for’ he said, his neck flushed in the moonlight as he gripped your ass tightly, smacking it and making you keen as he removed his fingers from your mouth and tightened them around your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your back arching as Madara’s cock kissed your cervix with every thrust, leaving you almost sobbing his name and digging your nails in his back. He groaned, biting down on your lip, soothing it with his tongue, making out with you just as you came again on his cock.

‘I want to see you ride me. Want to see all of you’ he said, slipping out of you and pulling you on top of him, impaling you on his cock again. You moaned, biting your lip and putting your hands on his chest, grinding on him as his hands forcefully lifted you and his hips slammed into you.

‘Too much! Madara… please…’ you whined, the squelching sounds drowned by your loud moans as your clit rubbed against his pelvis every time it came in contact with it. His hands cupped your breasts and toyed with your nipples, pinching them and making your head hang back towards the ceiling.

‘You can take it. Wouldn’t want to give the patrons a half-baked show, would you, little one? Let them hear you beg’ he grunted, smacking your ass again, the slap resounding along with your whimper.

You were close to cumming again, and Madara knew it, because his fingers deftly touched your clit, making you scream out as you squeezed him, your cunt pulsing around his cock with your orgasm. He cursed, gripping you and keeping you still as his hips stuttered and he came with a low moan.

You collapsed on him, and he soothed your back, stroking your hair gently, kissing the side of your head.

‘They’re quiet now. That’ll show them’ he said, voice pleased and smug.

#madara x reader #madara smut #madara x you #madara x y/n #madara imagines #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #madara fanfiction

342 notes · View notes

cowboydisaster · 2 years ago

Text

Sleepless Nights

repost, originally posted on 13 march 2023

pairing: Dutch van der Linde x fem!reader (+jealous arthur? check notes)

word count: 3k

summary: Dutch helps to keep you toasty on a freezing Colter night. This was written to an anon request "I can think of a few ways to keep warm"

a/n: idk how but this turned into a dutch smut + a snippet of jealous Arthur at the end? Not sure, but I like the finished product!

warning: nsfw, 18+, minors dni

taglist: @margofiore@mrsarthurmorgan7@woman-with-no-name@luvliewriting@tillith@pine4pple-b0i@photo1030@dudsparrow (sorry for tagging you twice, I'm done, I promise lol.)

Your teeth chatter and click together in the overwhelmingly cold cabin. You hate Colter, you hate this storm and you hate the Pinkertons. The only thing keeping you sane right now is Dutch at your back. It’s dark in your section of the little cabin, and it's freezing cold. Dutch lines your back on the small bed, spooning you as close as he can possibly get without crushing you. His warmth doesn’t help much in the storm, but it's better than nothing. Arthur and Hosea are in the other rooms in the little cabin, and by the sounds of their snores through the thin wall, they’re not suffering nearly as much as you are.

“My dear, this is killing me. What can I do?” Dutch says, beside himself from the way you’re shaking down to your bones. Your skin is like ice, and even as he rubs up and down your arms, you don't warm up.

“Nothing, it's okay but I-Im, god, I'm so c-cold.” Is the only reply you can muster. Dutch pulls your back closer to his chest, thinking.

You coil around yourself, smiling as Dutch begins to pepper open mouthed kisses along your neck and jaw. He nips the skin of your pulsepoint, gently toying it with his teeth before running his tongue over the red spot.

“You know…” Dutch begins, and the hand that was snaked around your waist moves downward to reach up the bottom of your chemise. You shudder, but not from the cold, as Dutch’s featherlight touch trails up your thigh, past your abdomen and to your breasts.

“I can think of a few ways to keep warm…” Dutch whispers, breath hot against your neck. He kisses the underside of your jaw, running his thumb overtop your hardened nipple before circling it a few times.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and the little gasp that leaves your lips causes Dutch’s jeans to grow tighter around his groin. His thumb flicks over your nipple a few times, and his lips kiss and suck at your ear lobe.

“Dutch, wait- Hosea and Arthur are sleeping and the walls are thin-” You protest lightly, not wanting to get caught in the act. But the warmth that starts to cover your body from Dutch’s touch and the wetness that begins to pool between your thighs begs him to continue.

“Guess we’ll have to be quiet then, hmm?” Dutch pinches your nipple lightly, trying to restrain from grinding his hips against your ass as he whispers against your ear, “Can you do that for me, princess?”

You whimper, pushing yourself back against Dutch. It elicits a deep groan from the man, and you can feel the outline of his hard cock against your lower back.

“Mhm.” You nod, needing Dutch to keep touching you.

He obliges of course, squeezing your breast and groaning before sliding his hand down towards your lower stomach. Once he reaches your thighs, he urges them apart.

“Can you spread these pretty thighs for me? Hmm, my dear?” Dutch asks, and his voice alone does you in. You lift your leg up a bit, still in a spooning position to grant his hands access. He brings his hand in between your thighs from the back, and runs his fingers over your slick folds.

“You’re so… God- You’re so wet for me.” Dutch whispers, and his cock is pressing so hard against the inside of his jeans that it hurts. But he’ll take care of you first, he always does.

His fingers trace a familiar pattern over your clit, the same one that you use to get yourself off. He knows you like the back of his hand, knows everything you want, everything you need. Being with Dutch is as easy as breathing, and you need him like the oxygen that flows to and from your lungs. His large hands ground you, touching you in a manner that doesn’t allow the chill of the room to grasp onto you. Your body burns with his touch, racing ever faster towards a cliff's edge.

It doesn't take long. His voice combined with the way he’s touching you are the perfect concoction that has you whimpering and gasping. You turn your head into the pillow, and every exhale hits you with a wave of building pleasure. It's the kind of orgasm that peaks slowly, his fingers know exactly what you need, responding to your moans to bring you to a toe curling, whimpering mess. Even with your face lodged into the pillow, your gasping breaths and moans can be heard, albeit muffled. You rock against Dutch’s fingers, elongating your orgasm while clamping your thighs down over his arm and hand.

“Yeah, just like that… let me work you through it, easy.” Dutch coos, rubbing against your clit until it's too much and you have to pull away from oversensitivity.

“Fuck, Dutch–” You whimper, and the sweat on your forehead speaks for your better temperature.

He presses a kiss to the back of your head, shushing you and reminding you that Hosea and Arthur are just on the other side of the wall. Really you don’t care, you can’t even form a coherent thought as you push your ass against Dutch's groin, grinding against his unfreed cock until he groans. He pulls his zipper down far too slow for what you need.

“Please, Dutch, I need-” You whine, cunt throbbing with need.

“Just a second, my dear. Patience.” Dutch chuckles, finally releasing his thick shaft from the confines of his jeans. He lifts your thigh up again, running the rosy head of his cock along your entrance to use your slick.

“You ready, my love?” Dutch whispers, kissing your shoulder, his facial hair causing goosebumps to shiver down your body. You nod, begging him to just take you already.

As soon as he has your consent, he slides in, pushing into you slowly. Your walls are tight around him, even with all the slick and the foreplay. You moan, tossing your head back against Dutch’s chest as he slowly fucks you from behind, still spooning. The position gives him a perfect angle to bump right into your G-spot, and you’re moaning and whimpering after only a few moments of his slow thrusts. His hand steadies himself on your hip, and you reach to your side to grasp onto it, nails digging into his hand.

“God- you’re so tight.” Dutch groans as he thrusts into you. The head of his cock bumps right into that sweet spot, and you feel the first tingling of an approaching orgasm, even without the external stimulation.

"Oh Dutch faster please-" You moan, needing to feel more of him, quicker and harder.

"As you wish, my love." Dutch groans before picking up his pace and ramming into you so hard that the bed rocks side to side with his rhythm. The creaking bed is loud, but not nearly as loud or vulgar as his hips slapping against your ass, or the moans that fall from your lips as you pinch your nipple.

"Fuck! Oh- Dutch I'm so close!" You practically scream, gripping onto the side of the bed that rocks like a ship mid-storm. You can feel every ridge, every vein and every twitch of Dutch inside you as he mercilessly takes you.

"Cum for me, my dear, let me feel it-" Dutch groans in your ear, holding himself back until you've been properly satisfied. It's difficult, considering those pretty noises you're making, and the way his name falls so effortlessly from your lips.

As soon as he says the words, you allow yourself release. Your walls clamp down around Dutch as you rock back against him, waves of tight, hot pleasure falling over you. Dutch tries to continue his pace to ensure your maximum pleasure, but you're squeezing him so tightly, and god- the sounds you make. You moan, crying out and gasping for air as "Oh!" and "Dutch!" are repeated over and over.

You can feel him begin to twitch, he groans louder, fucks you erratically. You've said the words before you've even considered them, before you've even thought of the consequences.

"No, dont pull out please- I wanna feel you, I wanna take it!" You yell out, surely you've woken up Arthur and Hosea by now. Surely they can hear everything happening through the thin walls, but you don't care, not right now anyway.

As soon as he has permission, he thrusts into you one last, slow and hard time, filling you up completely. He sputters and groans as he does.

"So good for me- so good." Dutch mumbles, an aborted thrust of his hips paints your walls with the last bit of his spend.

You bring your thigh back down, wincing from overstimulation. Dutch doesn't pull out of you, still in to the hilt as he wraps his arms around you again. You're breathing heavily, recuperating from the best orgasm you've ever had in your life.

"Thank you…" You whisper, craning your head to catch his lips in a kiss. It starts out slow, your lips meet his own in a small, sweet show of love. But as it grows longer, and his pecks become little bites to your bottom lip, you feel heat pooling in your belly again.

"You know, I have to be up early Mr. van der Linde." You chastise, looking into his eyes before trailing back down to his lips.

"Hmmm, I do. But there's less productive, albeit more interesting ways we could spend our time rather than sleeping… I do have an obligation to keep you warm. Isn't that right miss?" He whispers, trailing kisses from the underside of your jawline down to your neck, and licking a trail up to your earlobe before nipping it with his teeth.

"We really shouldn't, Dutch. We have to rob the train tomorrow." You counter, but the way you giggle, and your breath picking up tells Dutch that you don't want him to stop.

"I have an idea." Dutch says, kissing your temple before pulling out of you, slowly.

"Y'know, I have a special talent.." Dutch jokes, sitting up in the bed beside you and urging you to lay on your back.

"Oh, you do?" You play, knowing exactly where this is going and loving every second of it.

You spread your legs for Dutch, pulling your chemise up enough to expose yourself to him.

"Oh, I do. And luckily for you, it is a talent that you're quite familiar with." Dutch jokes before ducking under the blankets. You laugh out loud, because he is ridiculous.

He settles himself in between your legs, under the blankets before you feel his mustache against your inner thighs, bucking your hips to chase after the feeling of his mouth on your most sensitive bits.

—

Arthur wakes up in a cold sweat from a dream. A dream about you. It's a dream that plagues him on lonely nights. One of your body under his own, slotting together with him. One where you call out his name, gripping onto him like he's everything while he touches every inch of your body, memorizing you.

He wakes up, and sees the tent that has formed under the blanket from his dirty mind.

"Goddamnit-" Arthur sighs, angry with himself for being such a creep. Because he will never have you. You are with Dutch- you don't want him. And as he lies awake thinking about you, or sleeps and dreams of you at night, he is only a fleeting thought in your mind. When he sees you in camp, smiling bright with flowers in your hair, your clothes wrapped tightly around your body it drives him mad. He could show you what love can be, he could love you better than Dutch. But he will never have that chance.

So he does what he does everytime you linger on his mind for too long…

Arthur reaches down, under the blankets to free his erect cock from his long johns. As soon as his hard shaft springs free from the material, his eyes slip closed, and he recalls his dream.

You're underneath his body, gasping for breath and moaning as he thrusts into you hard and slow. He starts to stroke himself lightly, toying with himself. He thinks of you in his tent, stepping out of your clothes, of you sitting in his lap, taking what you need and rocking yourself against him. With every stroke of his hand on his cock, he imagines that it's you. He pumps himself into his closed fist, running his thumb over his head just wishing that it was your mouth, your lips on him, your tight walls, taking him like his girl. He whispers your name under his breath, bucking his hips up into his hand.

… And then he hears it. A whimper, coming from the otherside of the wall directly to his left. The wall that separates his room from yours and Dutch's.

Arthur's hand stops abruptly when he hears it. His eyes shoot open, and he glances to the wall, separating you from him by just a few feet.

"Fuck, Dutch-" You moan, gasping and whimpering from the other side of the wall. At first, it takes the breath away from Arthur. That bastard is touching you right here, for everyone to hear. Like he's showing you off, letting Arthur know what he will never have. Arthur wants to quit, wants to shove his hard length back into his pants and be swallowed up by the floor.

But then your moans continue, and as Arthur's eyes slip closed again, you whimper, and his cock twitches with need. Arthur sighs, feeling like a total pervert as he starts to slowly pump his fist up and down his shaft again. Arthur pretends that it's him making you moan like that. It's him on top of you, fucking into that sweet little cunt and kissing those perfect rosy lips. He imagines his lips, kissing and licking at those perfect breasts, taking you and giving you everything you need.

"Please Dutch, I need-" You whine, begging

Dutch to fuck you, and Arthur decides in this moment that he hates Dutch. Arthur hates that Dutch is having you like this, while he pathetically fucks his fist. Because Arthur loves you. He loves you, and you're with Dutch.

Then Arthur hears the unmistakable sounds of sex. He hears Dutch thrusting into you, the slap of you taking him to the hilt, and how you moan with every goddamn rock. Arthur bucks his hips up, fucking his hand hard and fast, wishing it were you. He times his hand with your moans, just wishing that it were him making you moan like that.

"God, you're so tight…" Dutch growls, and Arthur wants nothing more than to go in there and kill the sonofabitch. It should be him in there, not Dutch.

Arthur tightens his fist around his shaft, only being able to imagine how it must feel to have you around him.

The younger outlaw holds his groans in, not wanting to be caught. You on the other hand are crying out, whimpering and moaning Dutch's name. Arthur hates it, and green envy colors him with want. It only makes his movements harder, faster.

"Fuck! Oh- Dutch I'm so close!" You yell through the slightly muffled wall.

Arthur has always wondered what you sound like, how you moan when you cum. And tonight is no different. He is waiting for your release, begging you in his mind to just fucking cum already so that he can put this goddamn fantasy that's never going to happen to rest and get some sleep.

After a few moments he hears the release. Your breaths get heavy, loud and quick. They turn to gasps, that turn to moans until the whole cabin reverberates with your sweet, beautiful cries of pleasure. You're calling out Dutch's name, but Arthur ignores it. He pumps his fist in time with your moans, climaxing with you. With a low, quiet groan, Arthur cums, sending warm strings of his spend up over his own stomach. For a moment, Arthur just lays there, listening to your whimpers continue. Your orgasm is drawn out, as you moan and gasp for a while until they quiet down.

He feels enraged as you beg Dutch to finish inside you. Of course you do. Arthur hates Dutch and he hates whatever cruel higher power is forcing him to endure this purgatory. He hears your whimpers and moans, knowing that it's something he will never elicit from you. Dutch groans, and Arthur is actually relieved, knowing it's finally fucking over.

Arthur wipes himself off, feeling like an asshole. His heart shatters when he hears the little kisses that you two share, the aftercare that Arthur wants nothing more than to give you. After a few moments of quiet, and some giggles, it starts all over again. You start to moan, start to whimper and groan.

"Christ alive…" Arthur whispers, shoving a pillow over his ear. He does actually want to get some sleep, and he feels like a complete perv, listening in like that.

Much to Arthur's growing insanity, you don't stop. No, not for the rest of the night. The two of you go at it like rabbits, and Dutch brings you over the edge again and again, until Arthur stomps out of the cabin and spends the rest of the night in the barn.

No one gets much sleep.

#dutch x reader #dutch van der linde #dutch van der linde x reader #dutch van der linde x y/n #dutch van der linde x female reader

282 notes · View notes