#brighter than a shooting star
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starmagicked · 2 years ago
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god sent you from heaven.
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ameotome · 27 days ago
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LOCKING SATELLITE VECTOR ! 🛸🌌
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andromeda's moot-only request blog.
i trust my mooties to not be freaks so no actual white/blacklist except a reminder that i don't edit live action stuff sawrry!!
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misfitmasquerave · 2 months ago
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TAGS!
💀 a mazda bongo friendee // ooc. 🎭 welcome to the masquerade // p. 🎭 so this is the fabled tilted towers // crack. 🎭 i am a lost boy from neverland // steven. 🎭 i found something in the woods somewhere // dipper. 🎭 brighter than a shooting star // mabel. 🎭 i will not surrender; this life is mine // chilchuck. 🎭 you can't kill an idea. // marcille. 🎭 i'll be anything but ordinary // laios. 🎭 toss your oatmeal & eat something new // senshi. 🎭 fish in a birdcage // hunter. 🎭 life's alright in devil town // luz. 🎭 we'll make the world our playground // collector. 🎭 tunnel vision from the outsider's screen // gordon. 🎭 feelin' so matryoshka // benrey. 🎭 come hang; let's go out with a bang! // tommy. 🎭 in the clearing stands a boxer // coomer. 🎭 strike a match & burn it down // bubby. 🎭 i gotta ramble on // rambley.
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hayleysmuses · 3 months ago
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@decanard asked: "Come on. It'll be fun. Just like water surfing. But in the air." (Dewey @ Boyd)
Despite his concerns, Boyd couldn't help but laugh with delight at the other boy's urging. "Cloud kicking does sound fun," he agreed. "But I'm not so sure how safe it'd be to use my rockets as a speed boost. I don't want you to get hurt!"
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iznsfw · 10 months ago
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Reputation, Or Whatever That Is
IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 12 - Jang Wonyoung
IVE's Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader Smut
7,063 words
Categories | daddy kink, brat!Wonyoung, squirting, blowjob, please appreciate Wonyoung's power bottom capabilities
Sorry, Yena is coming out sometime but I wanted to finally write something timely. JANG WONYOUNG WHAT THE FUCKKKKK.
Please bear with the religious metaphors, I have Catholic guilt and Wonyoung reignites it. I'm not sorry for all the other fucked up shit here I'm just ooga boogaing because what the FUCK
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It’s a little brighter today than usual. The sun surely knows what's about to happen upon its rising. It has no plans of telling you beforehand, so you’re forced to find out yourself. 
You open Instagram, which is insane because you never bother to look at pictures—much less edited, filtered ones made for meaningless impressions. Your blissful ignorance of online concepts is what would make your fans hate you if they had space in their deluded hearts to. Or maybe that’s your age talking.
But today, clicking on that app is what you do, and that already should have been a sign that something’s not right. The usual run of your universe has gone off course. Who could have made that so?
Coffee. The black stillness that’s pure of sweetness and sugar. That’s supposed to keep everything normal. You sip on it as you scroll through clickbait, fan accounts, edits—
Then you wish you never took that hot gulp at all.
Wonyoung. 
It’s all because of her. 
She stands there from behind your screen, silky hair tangled in those lithe long fingers. She’s looking at the camera like she wants whoever took the time to click on her profile to come over and fuck her right now. Man or woman, poor or rich—it doesn’t matter. What ought to matter though is the fact that she doesn’t have someone’s hands slipped around her waist and pulling her close.
You shouldn’t even be thinking about it.
Usually, she’s dressed in knitted pink coats and miniskirts; looking fashionable but modest, modest but unplain. That’s what everyone loves about Jang Wonyoung: she’s prim, sweet, and the daughter of the nation. 
Now, she’s the ideal girl to take right home and have your wicked way with. Yes, you’d feel guilty since she’s so young, just the little age of nineteen. Still, that doesn’t mean you’d have any regrets. She’s the kind of girl you can’t get away from. You’ll always come back for more.
You’d hate to be so upfront, but there’s no other way to interpret it. 
There’s that fucking denim bra hugging her tiny chest, stitched up so high that her abs are on full display. That little pinch of a waist curves so perfectly right up to her wide hips that invite and invite and invite—
Remember to exhale.
So, yeah. That’s how Wonyoung ruined your day, and you barely had your morning coffee.
A text message from your boss appears. You nearly miss it because of how you’re staring all ogle-eyed at the tempting girl on your screen. Before you even click it, you already know what you ought to do. 
hey, it reads, you need to—
-
—go to Wonyoung, and for such a scandalous photo, she’s chosen a remote but classy hotel only the biggest stars know of to shoot it. 
There’s no going back when you drive like you’re running from the law when you’ll break one if you pull the wrong stunt with her. Your throat’s coiled with an unreleased breath that won’t go away unless you see her. It’s like traveling with the promise of meeting a goddess, and although you’re not religious anymore, you wear very, very close to rediscovering faith.
The hotel is grand—clear marble floors and shining chandeliers—and it’s no surprise. Wonyoung wouldn’t have things any other way. You know that when she’s come to your office to complain about her outfits and brands. 
You go up to the desk with prepared evidence for what you’re going to say. “I’m an associate of your client miss Jang Wonyoung,” you say to the lady tapping away behind her computer, “and I’ve come to visit her.”
Associate? It’s more like mentor. You’re a veteran idol whose efforts inspire the rookies, therefore getting you the responsibility of looking out for Wonyoung. So, father figure, maybe? You wince at that.
She makes a polite sad look, still not removing her eyes from the screen. “I’m sorry, miss Jang doesn’t have—”
Slide your ID card on the counter.
She glances at it, stiffens, then looks up at you. There’s only one of you in the entire South Korea, and although the 1x1 traces back to when you were a bit more youthful, it’s not hard to put two and two together. 
She apologizes quickly and offers you an elevator ride exclusive for VVIPs. Smile. It’s been a while since your last return to music, but everyone knows you here. Everyone knows your power.
Wonyoung’s place is the first room on the twelfth floor, a flinching irony.
Knock. You rap your knuckles three times for good luck and charm, because you’ll need it with her. Jang Wonyoung is everything save an easy girl. You remember the many times she refused to give up a debate on how she’s managed, how she’s styled, how she’s treated. She wants things to go her way only.
“Wonyoung,” you call out. Fidget with the handle of the door that refuses to budge. “It’s me.”
Knock a little more. There’s no eye behind the peekhole or a soft “come in.” You receive only the unlocking of the furnished knob and a welcome that makes you wish this could go the way your morals would want it to go.
The door opens you to a gorgeous suite that’s the supreme of all room tiers. This is the kind that only the richest of the rich are able to attain. Big as a house with a soft carpeted ground, there’s a queen-sized bed before a wide window of the city. Picture frames commissioned by the wealthy hang from the painted walls. All for the fucking aesthetic.
Even you, a star who paved the way for the Korean entertainment industry itself, aren’t used to this type of wealth. 
Find her sitting on the ledge of the window frame. Wonyoung has her hands resting on the sides of the window frame. She doesn’t try at least a stance at nonchalance—no admiring stare at the beautiful view, no worried gaze at her clean fingernails. Her interest is you standing before her like you’re afraid to touch her. She might be right, but it’s not like you’d ever have it in you to admit that.
Even you, a man lusted over by girls and women all over the world, aren’t used to this kind of woman—the kind that eats away at you.
“Wonyoung.” Inside, you feel like the weakest man in the world.
She has this smarmy, confident smile on her perfect lips that tells you that it’s no surprise that you’ve come all the way here for her. No surprise at all. She expected it. Anticipated it, if you will.
Don’t mistake the coquettish float of her lashes for theatrics. No, Jang Wonyoung’s just naturally someone you’d want to fuck, no matter the politics of it. “Yes?”
Her voice is also just that pretty. That’s a large part of why it’s so hard to act professional in front of her when she’s your mentee. Even more so by the fact you’re someone she’s looked up to for the majority of her trainee years, which is already something that would make people’s brows lift.
“Wonyoung.” You let your shoulders rest. “Why are you still dressed like that?”
You know all the dialogue that passes around the general public. Oh, Jang Wonyoung’s so gorgeous! Jang Wonyoung’s even more beautiful in real life! You hate to say you can’t disagree. She’s deadlier in person; her body’s there before the glass like she’s waiting for someone to give in to temptation. That coy simper can ruin careers. It can ruin yours. 
To think it all could be gone because of a nineteen-year-old celebrity with a tiny waist and legs you’d love to have around your head.
“Why are you still dressed like someone from the eighties?” Wonyoung taps her chin, then grins. She’s figured it all out. “Oh wait, you are.”
You’re not taking insults from someone who’s below you in experienced years and power. Unluckily, she’s not taking advice from someone above her or below her.
The step you take towards her, towards the little star seated comfortably waiting for you, feels like a sin. 
“You’re incredibly unprofessional for a girl who’s worked her way up here,” you note. Cross your arms and give her a reprimanding look. 
Wonyoung’s immune to nasty looks, too. She’s been doing this since she was a child. If someone gave her a glare that read all too well of a career assassination, she’d wink the bullet away sweetly. “Hm,” she says contemplatively, “I don’t think you get to say that, honestly.”
Your laugh is blunt and sarcastic. Unbelievable. Wonyoung’s the kindest girl according to the people who work for her, so why is she a rebel in your hands? It doesn’t make sense.
“Look here, we—”
You take three steps closer to her. You’ll keep your little rituals and superstitions to keep yourself grounded. Without them, you’d go insane. 
Then without her having to do anything, she comes nearer, like a doomsday foretold by a ticking clock. Who knows? That clock could be a bomb, and that bomb would set off if you dare to touch her with a trembling fingertip. You’d leave the scene injured. And eventually, you’d die the moment they try to help you, because the deed’s been done.
“Oh, I’m looking, alright,” she chirps. She’s doing what you’ve held yourself back from doing: letting her eyes wander. “And I really, really like what I see.”
You’re someone several awards her senior, and you’re still quite intimidated by her at this moment. She’s so sweet yet so honest—she won’t make up a lie to make you feel better and she won’t hide the truth to make you comfortable. Refuse the truth her eyes locked on your crotch tell. You won’t accept it. It’s not right.
“I’m serious.” Approaching her makes you want to go on your knees and beg the lord for a little saving. Do it anyway. No one will rescue you. That’s what the industry taught you. “You’ve made it all the way up here. All by yourself. There’s gotta be something. What are you throwing it all away for?”
She laughs. Funniest thing she’s ever heard. “I’m not. How am I throwing it all away?” 
“Those posts,” you hiss. Doesn’t she get it?
Before she could ask you what you’re talking about, you whip out your phone. Click on the app icon. It instantly shows you the opened tab containing Wonyoung’s recent Instagram posts. Look at her, wrapped in nothing, not even those curtains—giving the camera bedroom eyes when girls her age shouldn’t be shooting them at anyone or be aware of how to. 
It’s already massed a million likes in under an hour. But you know what people who turn on anyone easily will say, and what they say could blot Wonyoung’s bright future by a lot. A million people around the world have caught sight of the abs she’s worked hard for, her toned back, and just about everything. A loud minority with frisky influences can sabotage her whole reputation.
“These posts,” you continue, shoving the screen into the poor girl’s face, “can take away everything you’ve worked for. All that fame, all that money, you can’t brag about them after this.”
Wonyoung looks on innocently. She stares at the screen with uninterested eyes, then switches them back on you. She looks like such a good girl in that second, with her hands seated beside her and that face so full of sparkling perfection. 
Deception can’t lead you away. 
“So, what’s it gonna be, Wonyoung?” 
Long silence that builds up your frustration. Finally, she clicks her tongue. Gives you a shrug of her thin shoulders.
“You liked it.”
“What?”
She points to your phone. “You liked my post,” she repeats. “It says so right there.”
What the hell is she talking about?
You look at the device you’re brandishing. For a while, you can’t find out what she’s referring to. You can never take a liking to her posts, although if they switch on something you didn’t know you can feel. You’d die before—
The heart. 
Wait.
The heart button below her set of pictures is filled with red.
Your heart pumps faster, a button pushed and played.
Fuck.
You turn to her and open your mouth. No sensible words come out. You swear you didn’t tap twice on her update or take it to a private setting. How did it happen? Worse, even if you say that to her, she’d take it as a pathetic lie.
Wonyoung giggles. It’s a tinkly sound that’s adorable, but you’ve long realized that being cute is not all there is to her. She rises slowly, sets her palms over your blazer-clad arms, and gives you an empathetic face. It’s so condescending that you want to dissolve. 
“I know what men like you are all about,” she tells you. She speaks with a sultriness that makes you feel warm and has bumps appearing in masses across your skin.
She smiles. Her eyes disappear into crescent moons and the dimple appears on her cheek. You’re done for. 
“Come on,” Wonyoung continues, squeezing your forearms. “Here you are, a big old man known for being a good singer or whatever. You’re so popular that the first thing that pops up on Naver is your face. Everything goes right for you, doesn’t it?”
You have no idea where she’s going with this. You’re afraid to even ask. Your teeth grit as her massages grow stronger, harder. 
Something else is, too.
“Then, of course, you see me.” 
Her hand. It’s curling around your wrist and bringing your fingers right around that flawless waist. She closes them there tightly.
It’s so bad that it’s good. You want to keep touching her, maybe slip your gliding fingers down her jeans. Oh, you shouldn’t. You can’t.
“You see me, and you get all hot and bothered. And what’s so funny is I’m not even doing anything. I’m just being myself, you know. Being young and rich… a beautiful girl…” Wonyoung is unbuttoning your shirt and you don’t realize it. “You can’t understand how I’m allowed to be this hot when you can’t even fuck me with a normal conscience.”
It’s all so wrong. You want to shake her by the shoulders and tell her to shut up. But if Medusa has her eyes, Wonyoung has her lips to turn you to stone. They keep opening elegantly to speak the filthiest, most fucked up shit, and you can’t deny anything.
Her eyes are creased with knowing pride. Her youth doesn’t rescue her from being so messed in the head already. Those thoughts don’t go along with such a pretty face.
“That’s why you like to get rough with me. You tell me to watch how I speak, watch how I act. You tell me to stop talking to you like you’re no one. You tell me that I’m such a little brat. But you only do that so you can get to control me. That’s your most fucked up dream, right?”
Her mouth is the tiniest space away from your chin. 
You’re another word away from saving yourself a spot in damnation.
Her finger that scratches a flaw on your blazer beckons you to the fire. “You’re not breaking the law or anything,” says Wonyoung, “so why not break me instead, daddy?”
That’s a deal sealed with a rough kiss.
You grab her cruelly and cover her lips with yours. They’re more amazing than you imagined, soft and competent with how she pushes in deeper, depriving herself of the air she needs the most just to get what she needs just a bit more:
You. 
Your tongues collide and clash, striving to get the most taste. She pulls your blazer off (because fuck professionalism, right?) while she kisses you with a hunger that’s equally mental and physical. It’s not like she’d bruise up if you didn’t get your hands on her yet it’s close to that. 
And, in your case, it’s not like you’re breaking any law. She’s nineteen, not anywhere under the limits you’d kill others and yourself for touching. Nonetheless, you’re much older—by age, she could be your daughter; by career, she’s your junior; by power, you’re much stronger. 
So, it’s still so wrong.
Can’t be when Wonyoung’s fist, firm around your cock, feels so right. 
Can’t be when she lands on the edge of the bed with her lips parted in delight as she watches your dick stiffen under her service. 
“There you go, daddy,” she coos, smirking. “Just get all hard for me, then you can stuff that big thing up in my pussy.”
Her thumb toys with your cockhead. You purse your lips to hold back a groan. Let go of it anyway when her smooth, closed palm rubs your sensitive flesh. She cups your balls lovingly before gliding her teasing fingertips under your length, right up to your tip. The girl knows how to do this; she’s good at more things other than MCing and performing.
Wonyoung hones this skill with firmer pumps, giving you the handjob of a lifetime. Her long fingers are just made to handle dick. Each stroke is perfection that holds and pulls and slides. You’re leaking so much already. 
So you turn into the driver of the hate train, the press that loves getting her bad angles and the articles that slash up her name:
Blame it all on her. 
Because you have here a girl, young and pretty and confident, so of course you have to scrape off your sins and nail them all on her, like a quivering hand to wood.
“You think you’re getting it that easily?” you say. Your moan is squeezed in your throat. “Baby, you’re not even close to it.”
Wonyoung smirks. It’s that self-assured, elegant smile that tells you that won’t work on her. She might be a rookie, but she knows how to play the game. 
She tightens her grip painfully. That’s what you get for trying to one her up. Do that to anyone, just not Jang Wonyoung. Your cry goes unheard as she yanks you rather than jerks you off. Spits on your head for good measure. Wonyoung’s eyes make a connection with your soul and says, Yep, that’s what I’d do if you weren’t my senior. In fact, I’d do it regardless. I’d choke and spit and leave you to die, because a pretty Samaritan is better than a good one.
“You’re really out of touch, daddy.” 
With Wonyoung slathering her drool all over you, you’re forced to teeter on the line between heaven and hell. It burns yet the offer of pleasure leaves you sated.
“You think I’m like the pretty girls out there? Other girls might have broken down and begged you to come back.” 
Your rod is subjected to a brief torrid kiss, then a smile as the wicked girl looks up at you.
She laughs, gives you this smile full of haught and womanly power. “Too bad I’m Jang Wonyoung,” she says, her last words before taking you in.
Yes, it’s too bad she’s Jang Wonyoung. It’s too bad she’s not the other girls who’d kneel for a burning touch of stars like you. She wouldn’t be holding control over you with the power of her lips if she had sanity in that pretty head.
Her plump tiers wrap around you and seize everything, encasing it in softness and wetness. Her tongue, the one she uses as a killer expression for her selfies and Instagram updates, kills you all the same with how it swirls around your skin and tastes you. Trying to pretend the girl wasn’t a pro at this like she is with everything else is useless. She’ll keep proving you wrong and overpowering you.
The whole of your shaft is sucked in, then, when her cute nose is pressed directly to your stomach, she lets out a hummed laugh. You shudder—as much as it makes you feel good, fear grips your muscles and makes them limp. She’s loving how wrong everything is, and you’re not sure if you like it.
Her jaw slacks, and then Wonyoung’s swallowing you like you’re water. Can’t be water when you’re this solid in her throat. You let out a shivering groan. You can picture the bulge in Wonyoung’s neck and it’s the last thing you’d count on turning you on, but they did tell you to expect the unexpected. 
Her saliva becomes excessive, resulting in some dribbles down her chin that help her work her mouth on you. Wonyoung’s drool sheens you entirely and she keeps adding more. On the occasion she pushes her face into your stomach, your cock gets wetter. She does, too. 
“Fuck.” Cussing won’t help deter the onslaught of pleasure. You’re unsalvageable. Say it anyway. You babble meaningless, slurred words and not one gets to Wonyoung. All she can hear is the sound of your quivering moans and her mouth taking you all in.
She becomes less of an idol, less of the elegant princess for the cameras, and instead a fleshlight. However, she reminds you that it isn’t that way with a fierce sneer that stays on at all times. She’s not your girl—she’s Jang Wonyoung, and you’re already incredibly lucky that she chose to go down on you.
All that beautiful hair isn’t of any purpose if you don’t get to touch it, to gather it in a ponytail, to pull on it. Your fingers creep into her brown locks not only to give it a little meaning but also for sanity. 
That isn’t a thing in Wonyoung’s world. She pulls your hand off and slaps it on your side. “No,” she says with a shake of her head. “Daddy can’t touch me, not when he’s pretending that he’s hot shit.”
Her nails bury themselves in your hips. Oh, the manicured talons of a gorgeous monster. Oh, the pain that runs through your sides. Should you run before she devours you? Too late for that.
“Wonyoung,” you breathe, and then ask, genuinely: “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She’s so proper and serene on her shows that not even her most desperate fan would think she’s a terror. They don’t know she’s a girl who likes older, weaker men who’d ruin her if she hasn’t the pretty face and attractively black heart to do them the favor instead. 
“What’s wrong with you?” 
You’d respond if you knew the answer.
Wonyoung rubs her thumb under your dick, sending little sparks aflying. “Why’d you kiss me earlier?” Her lipstick decorates it as a kinder girl would to your face. “Why didn’t you grab my hair and tell me to be a good girl? Why didn’t you leave? It’s not my fault you want to fuck me.”
All these words of destruction and your cock remains standing. It’s a staunch reminder to her that you can say whatever you want and the hard evidence remains. You want to fuck Wonyoung. You want to do it to a rookie who’d turn the story around on you if it ever came out. You want to fuck her so bad it’s borderline pitiable.
“I’m just giving you what you want, daddy.” Her fingers caress your sides. “Trust me, I could be a very good girl if I wanted to.”
You almost didn’t believe that until Wonyoung started to suck you off again. 
Her lips stroke you effortlessly as if this were her pastime. That’s your most accurate guess, because this seamless performance—the one of her mouth working on you with the impression that this whole thing is nothing to her—can’t be a natural gift. The combination of dripping saliva and her soft lips is lethal.
It’s unbelievable how she manages to find all your tender spots. She preys on them, licking and licking until you’re very sure you were going to blow all over her. But you can’t give her that satisfaction. 
You’re very close to doing so though. She’s perfectly sloppy and rough. You glare at her when she lightly teases her teeth on your girth. She winks at you in response. She leaves you breathless in so many ways. 
“Wonyoung, Wonyoung, god—” you whine. It’s so hard to adapt to the girl sitting there with that innocent face and wild mouth that doesn’t dare give up on you. 
Her expressions on camera are always poised. Off camera, there’s this one she flashes you as she shoves her face into your stomach that looks downright evil. Although she’s already fucking you with her throat, Wonyoung partners it with strong suction that’s sure to drain you. 
“Yes, daddy?” She doesn’t pant when she goes up for air, replacing her sucking with her long fingers. 
“I’m really close,” you admit. It’s obvious from your shaking legs. 
Sounds of returned wet suction start to increase. Criticism and compliments prod Wonyoung on. How else would she improve in her idol life? In blowing you? In devouring you?
You realize you’re fitting the cliché. There’s you, an idol whose name is uttered on the daily by both young and old fans, igniting a scandal in the making by fucking a girl beneath you in everything. There’s this expensive suite where stars go for a little precious privacy to do what they want. There’s the two of you doing exactly what you desire: fucking each other. There’s the classic maneater trope with how it’s more like Wonyoung fucking you—she fucks you with her face, fucks you in the head, fucks with your righteousness. Well, fuck.
Wonyoung drools so much that you’re invited to a sea the moment your head pushes past her tongue again. It’s slicker, sloppier, and so much sexier because she’s so completely devoted to your cock. Her hypnotizing eyes trap you and so does her body, tight and tiny—that tummy is flatter than a board and only thin panties hide what her long legs lead to from the bottom.
The only time she stops sucking you is when she darts her tongue side to side with an unhinged pace on your sensitive tip. “Good. Cum in my throat.”
“Shit, god, I can’t—”
Wonyoung attacks you again, and there, in her warm orifice, your plentiful orgasm spends itself. Her throat welcomes you tightly every time. Her hot restricted breaths fan your groin and evokes more semen that spills with no care. 
Your hands ball into fists. Although you’re hot and shaking, you can’t touch her. Why are you following her rules when it should be the other way around? It’s a reversal of roles, a Stockholm’s Syndrome of some sorts whose victim is your cock never wanting to leave from the predatory embrace of Wonyoung’s puckered kiss.
Of course, after she gathers all of your cum in the pool of her mouth, she swallows.
She really could be a good girl.
“Awh.” Wonyoung pouts mockingly. “Daddy, are you crying?”
Touch your face. To your horror, she’s right. The electricity and shock of her continuous blowjob results in a few tears on your cheeks. You haven’t done that in years. Wonyoung is the first one to make you cry like this.
You flush. What more to hide your weakness than anger? “Wonyoung,” you start, then you realize you don’t know what to say, “I—you—”
She smiles. You aren’t going anywhere.
She shoves you to the bed. You’ve reached rock bottom in spite of the softness of the quality pillows. You’ll scrape your way out if not for Wonyoung finishing the job by keeping you there assisted by her legs. They close around you with not even a courtesy false promise of an escape. No negotiation, no coaxes. 
Wonyoung is sitting on your crotch but not on your dick, which is a problem. Which is a solution. Her hands are pinned to your chest while you try not to meet her eyes. It’s a losing game when your runaway glances are met by her grinding hips, silky thighs, and the hard, flexing abs of a perfection of a midriff. 
Her fingers tug on the waistband of her panties before slowly slipping them off. Her pink pussy clear of blemish or hair comes in contact with your length. Up and down she goes, her dancing hips always seeking for more friction. You understand their need because you share the same—Wonyoung’s splayed lips on your member feel heavenly. It’s kind of disappointing that she might as well have climbed her way out of hell.
If she did, she’s the prettiest little devil you’ve ever seen.
“Ohhh, don’t you get it?” Wonyoung asks. She moves so smoothly, you nearly forget she’s humping you rather than dancing. Her soft moan brings you back. It’s the first time you’ve heard it, and you’re melting; it sounds so seductive and innocent in the same breath.
You know her. She knows you. So it’s clear: Jang Wonyoung can be anything—supermodel, actress, dancer—but she cannot ever be innocent. 
Her gorgeous voice is silky when it twists into moans and gasps. Looking down at your crotches meeting and swaying is a better show than end-of-the-year performances. The blowjob and commanding you around must have turned her on by a lot—her flesh is hot and wanton with juices as it slides up and down you.
“You’re not going anywhere, daddy!” Wonyoung giggles. She kisses your nose, then your chest until her lipstick marks you. You burn up with feverish lust after each peck. “Daddy is only Wonyoung’s. And I knew your perfect cock would be mine when I posted those pics. I know men like daddy would do anything for me.”
“Wonyoung.” Breathe again, because you’ll need to after this, so why not do it now? “Why are you doing this?”
You thought her flirtatiousness in your office was just her coyness coming out to play. She’d rest her chin on your desk, suck a red lollipop on some days, maybe run her fingertips over your knuckles. Day in and out, she plays the same game. You didn’t know it would reach this level.
“Because I want to mess you up, daddy,” Wonyoung says. Her tongue swipes at the cavern of your mouth right until she nibbles at your lower lip. Her lipstick peppers your face. “I want to fuck my daddy up so bad he’ll never go a day without thinking of me.”
Swallow. The friction of your sexes is driving you crazy and close to the edge. All the same, you don’t want to make a fool of yourself cumming early for Wonyoung. 
What happened to your dynamics? Your relationship? There wasn’t a romantic one, but it was always you holding the reins professionally and her just being an insistent passenger. Now she’s wrapping that rein around your neck and claiming you for her own. Looks like you have control everywhere excluding the bed.
“That’s it?” you ask. Shut your eyes—just seeing her grind on you with her utterly wet cunt can make you bust. “Your career doesn’t matter to you?”
“I could say the same thing to you.” Wonyoung lifts herself up and flashes that wicked smile again. “But I want to feel this in me before you wimp out.”
You and Wonyoung fall down a bottomless hole of consequence and wrongs but Wonyoung makes sure to bottom out the first time she sits on your dick. She engulfs you whole and traps you there with her soaked, grippy walls that slide all the way down. 
You’d say her pussy has a vise grip, holding onto you like all goes wrong if it didn’t, except you think it has the grip of a vice. Need for her juices that coat you replaces the need for alcohol. Even if you get out of this suite alive, (which is a low possibility), you can see yourself always coming back for more. You could be addicted to anything—smoking, eating, cheating—but it just so happened your vice is Wonyoung.
“Daddy!” she yelps, and from there you can’t count the times she slams her cute butt down your thighs. “Oh my god, daddy!”
Her dainty, cute yells make you throb inside her. Perhaps it’s the kittenish quality of it that turns you on so much. She sounds so appealing, so fucking ruinable that it’s surprising to see that she’s doing the ruining here. Her expression in bed is more animated than the ones she makes onstage—her nearly closed eyes look upwards while her mouth falls open. 
The squeeze of her tight, wet cunt renders your knees weak. It’s a good thing you’re lying down. Wonyoung makes sure you stay that way by penetrating herself with you over and over again. Her being barely a weight on you doesn’t stop you from lying there uselessly. You know better by now not to challenge her, not when each time you enter her vagina is better than the last. Her pussy is slippery and tight, proving to be the smallest and the best fit for your shaft simultaneously. Her hole is too tight and too good. 
“Is this all for me, daddy? Huh?” Wonyoung circles her hips, making you moan, then continues her up-and-down movements. “You’re so hard, you naughty daddy. I know you got a b-boner when you looked at my posts. Now I’m giving you another one.”
You always thought of Wonyoung as justifiably confident yet arrogant. She told you once at your desk that she doesn’t deserve a stylist who only has a four-star rating. She lamented about the lack of competence of her staff preparing her comeback stage. All those you turned down to give the topics of her complaints the benefit of the doubt, but you know she’s right. She doesn’t deserve less when she’s better than the best. She doesn’t deserve less when she knows her place: a royal throne. So you can’t deny that she’s too hot to handle, undiscriminating to you whose connections always have impossibly beautiful women somewhere in there.
She’s so hot that her small breasts bouncing from behind that denim bra and tube top looks appealing. She’s so hot that the heat between her legs grows wetter. She’s so hot that when her soft ass crashes down on you again, you don’t find it a repetitive bore. 
She’s so hot that you’d let the slim, tall girl use you until dusk turns to dawn, even if the curtains behind her are drawn apart and the secret cameras get to snap a photo.
“Shit, Wonyoung,” you say, your core squeezing. “You’re so fucking tight.”
“I bet you’ve thought about this, daddy. You thought that one night, I’ll be so bad that you could book us a whole hotel and fuck me in all the rooms, just like this one. I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Yes, fuck yes.”
“You wanted to open my legs and use my little pussy all day long, huh? Until I’m yours to throw around and do whatever?”
“Y-yes.” Nod. Your face twists—she shouldn’t speak when she’s fucking you because all the filth she says makes you want to blow inside her already. It’s the kind of truth that arouses rather than hurts.
Wonyoung’s riding switches to a rapid intensity that makes you yell. She lets you in so deep to the point that her butt cheeks touch your heavy balls. She’ll drain them for sure; the pace she sets is terrifyingly quick. It seems that she becomes tighter after each bounce, and it’s not helping you hold out at all.
Watch the wildness in Wonyoung’s eyes become animalistic. It makes you all the more certain now of one solid fact: there is something seriously wrong with Jang Wonyoung.
She smirks. “Well, you got it wrong. I’m not all yours, daddy.” She leans down, resting her palms on your shoulders. “You are all mine.”
Her hands might as well be a chained collar waiting to close around your neck. Her devilish simper is supposed to scare you, not turn you on. Somehow, it does both. 
She flicks back her hair as she sits up again. Through it all, her riding doesn’t stop. “This cock?” she asks before slamming her pussy down it with a different kind of ferociousness. Cry out but she shuts you up with a furious kiss. “It’s gonna be my dirty secret. I’ll always go to daddy after my schedules so I can make him cum—over and over again.”
To think that a young girl like her has you at her beck and call is laughable, but there’s no laughing now. As you stare at Wonyoung’s fluid body and her hair bouncing beautifully, you realize she actually can have you for herself. It only took one Instagram post to lure you to her. She sees you’re falling deeper and deeper for her.
She didn’t exactly tell you how to escape.
“You gonna cum, daddy? Is my perfect pussy milking you?” 
You can do nothing except nod.
“Of course, I can feel you throbbing, i-it’s making me lose it,” gasps Wonyoung. Her whines are making you lose it yourself. “Let’s cum together, okay? You can only cum when you feel Wonyoung squirt all over your massive cock.”
She squeezes tighter on top of you when she reaches down to rub her clit. She’s in search of any kind of stimulation: the slap of her ass on your thighs, the upward shoves of your erection, the pulse of her clit. Her moans increase in their whiny girlishness. Their tender vulnerability makes you think she should be the one underneath your body though you’re aware that’s never going to happen. Wonyoung belongs on top, just the same with her name in first place in the list of brand reputation rankings, browser searches, followers.
Once upon a time, you took charge over her. You managed her lessons, her videos, her behind-the-scenes duties. Funny how it’s the opposite now, wherein she jounces on you freely with the domineering message of caution: don’t cum until she does.
And god, is she making that hard. Everything about her is so attractive, from the bounce of her hair to her midriff showing your entering cock to her pretty pink pussy clutching you. What gets you, however, is her face—everyone loves looking at that face. Today, you’re under an aphrodisiac for it: you’re in love with the roll of her eyes as she rides you, the pink on her cheeks, the part of her lips. 
“Fuck yes! Ugh, daddy, you feel so good inside me…” Wonyoung’s core clenches and slides your penis along its textured, sensitive walls. Her gasp is straight out of fantasies. “You’re balls deep, see? Look how your meat’s filling me. My pussy’s going to be so sore after this.” She chuckles. “Wait, who says we’re stopping?”
You shudder. You’re getting very close. Your earlier orgasm still has its effects on you. You’re afraid you’re going to do something you shouldn’t under her bedroom law. She’ll imprison you with her thighs and waterboard you with all the girl cum she promised until you confess that she’s the best fuck you ever had. 
“Daddy’s going to cum so hard he’s probably going to breed me. Then I’ll, oh, I’ll feel it inside my tummy and it’s going to be a scandal. Wouldn’t you like that? Getting to knock up Jang Wonyoung? I can hear you moaning. I think you really like that. I think that’s why you’re thrusting up in me. You want to be a real daddy and make your baby girl a mommy. That’s so fucked up, you know that, right? You shouldn’t be having sex with me, let alone breeding me. But you’re a fucking weak old man, so of course you like that.”
You’re burning up. They’re the signs of what’s to come. If her confident words inspire her young fans, her monologues of lust make you feel like you’re the worst person in the world. Of course, the boner is part of the effect. 
You groan. “Wonyoung, baby girl, please—”
“Oh god, daddy, I’m going to cum!” she squeals. Her emotions control her and tell her to go harder, bounce harder, squeeze harder. She’s pushing past her limits. “Agh, agh, you’re cumming, too, right? Cum for me. You’ll be—fuck, my daddy’s going to make me cum! I’m squirting all over his cock!”
She slams herself down roughly and repeatedly till your lower body’s flooded with her cum. You can’t take it anymore. It feels like dying because you swear you can see stars in the ceiling, stars of lust in her eyes. La petite mort. How poetic, since Wonyoung’s screaming still sounds as beautiful as her singing and speaking. 
Her shouts are close to breaking the windows’ glass. Anyone can figure out what’s happening without the destruction of the pane—the curtains are wide open, letting the world see the youngest icon of the new generation pumping herself onto her co-worker. 
You wonder if there’s actually poor watchers out there seeing you cream Wonyoung’s princess pussy, grab her ass to guide her, and kiss her when she leans down.
Wonyoung tastes the best when she’s squirting.
-
Consequences always catch up no matter what. You can hide under a cloak, in another country, underneath the earth in a secluded bunker and all that won’t help. You’ll be stuck dealing with the outcome, thorns from a rose you thought was too pretty to have some. 
That’s the first thing you remember when you wake up, wrapped in the bed sheets and by Wonyoung’s arms. Someone’s calling you. Bad news: it’s your boss—the ringtone itself sounds angry, too. 
“Hello?” you ask. You can’t help the grogginess of your morning voice, try as you may. If your boss didn’t know what happened, he can perfectly guess from the exhaustion riddling your greeting. 
“You dumb little shit.” You can feel the spittle of your boss’ insult from miles away, cities away, screens away. “You’re lucky I’m friends with the fucking CEO.”
“What happened?”
“Don’t give me that. Some janitor saw you from the wing. I needed to hear it from you: did you fuck Jang Wonyoung?”
Unexpectedly, a veiny hand you remember holding something else grabs your phone. Wonyoung leans against your shoulder wearing nothing as she holds the phone to her ear.
“Why?” she quips, loud and clear. “Wouldn’t you?”
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twizzie-lairs · 9 months ago
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My Darling, My Honey
Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 4)
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Quick Notes:
This is when both reader/you and Alastor are both alive. (... we'll probably end up in hell later on btw so stay tuned...)
Reader is an artist/painter.
Part 4:
From here on out, you saw Alastor almost every single night. You felt brighter and Alastor definitely felt a change in you too. He wouldn't pry, for as long as you were happy, he was happy too.
The nightly meetings occurred for a month or two before one night, you saw Alastor and Mimzy chat before he came over to see you. Mimzy had finally told him that the reason that you were at the bar every night was because you were staying with her for the time being until you could find a place to live.
Alastor couldn't deny his affection for you any longer after hearing about your situation. He knew what he had to do. He had to make you his.
With a confidence like no one has ever seen before, Alastor twirls you around to face him, away from the patron you were helping serve drinks to.
He pulls you close and whispers in your ear, "My dear (y/n), I must ask you to accompany me to my home tonight. There is something I must ask of you."
A rush of blush appears on your cheeks, a reaction that he often and easily elicits from you. You nod in confirmation, speechless, mind racing at what he could possibly want to ask you.
Sure enough, Mimzy witnesses this encounter and walks up to you two "Alrighty, alrighty, I think we've all seen enough! (Y/N), you're done for the night! Get out of here you two!"
Bewildered, you look at Alastor. He held his arm out to you to hold on to, "Shall we head home, my dear?" Without any hesitation, you link your arm through his as he escorts you through the dimly lit streets back to a small home on the outskirts of town. It was secluded, bordering a forest.
"We have arrived, welcome, to my humble abode dear (y/n)"
After a small tour of the house, the two of you sit down on the couch in his living room. You turn yourself towards him "Your home is so lovely, Alastor. But.. what did you want to ask me?"
A gentle smile and expression creeps up onto his face, "Ah yes, I was enjoying your company so much that I nearly forgot!"
He tilts his head slightly and leans in towards you as he asks, "(y/n), it would be my honor for you to call this your home as well."
Alastor stands up and paces around the living room while he talks, "When Mimzy informed me of your plight, I couldn't resist taking you home with me. For you see, I am quite fond of you my dear."
You shoot up from the couch and immediately hug Alastor, "Oh my stars, I would love nothing more than to live with you, Alastor! It is no secret I am very fond of you as well."
Taken aback by the sudden contact of the hug, it takes him a second to adjust before reciprocating the hug, "My dearest love, I will do everything to make you happy."
From this point forward, you spend many happy months together, painting many a painting out of love for him, helping assist his radio shows, and still occasionally heading into town to pay Mimzy a visit.
It was almost pure bliss. Until one fateful night many months later.
-> Part 5
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astralis-ortus · 6 months ago
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it feels impossible (it's not impossible)
✱ bestfriend!bc × gn!reader
— 'cause you are the one i was meant to find.
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w.count → 2k genre → romcom, fluff warnings → minor cussing (as per usual, heh), chan refered to as chris a.n → i'm usually not the type to write this long simply because i'm easily distracted and have the tendency to abandon projects, but hey! this one prevails :] hopefully next time i can write even longer fics<3 ⋆ see masterlist
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honestly, you thought you were going crazy when the same melody restarted on chris’ speaker for the nth time today. it’s not that the song is bad—you do actually love ‘rewrite the stars’. you’re a fan of the movie, much like chris is, but putting the song on loop? for hours a day? for weeks? your sense of fanship isn’t that strong, especially when the song’s been out in circulation for years now.
“you wanna hear a theory?”
your question easily turns chris’ focus away from the endless papers he had to grade by the end of the day and towards you, raising an eyebrow to the sudden break of silence. his eyes visibly twinkled, contemplating if he should entertain the idea of putting on his regular-26-year-old suit over the professional-high-school-teacher ones he’d been in for the past couple hours or so.
well, to be fair, chris hasn't even been focusing on the pages of essays he needed to check. not when his mind has been preoccupied with something—someone­—else.
“shoot,” he eventually replied with a lopsided smile etched on his lips—head cocked to the side when he finally decided to shut the screen of his decorated silver laptop, offering you his entire attention. “it better be funny or entertaining, considering i’m risking losing my hearing to my kids’ complaints for not returning their papers on time tomorrow.”
“oooh, pressure,” you mocked, a wide grin appearing on your face while you try to ignore the rush of tingles under your skin when you noticed the way chris referred to his students as ‘my kids’—something he’d always done and so do you, but somehow had a different effect on you as of recent. “believe me, it’s something fun,” you hummed with a shrug, mirroring chris as you set your laptop aside.
chris’ pair of charming dimples came into view upon your confident reply, fully immersed in the stage you’re setting up. fabric of his gray couch, one where you two had been slowly melting into for a few hours now, gently rustled when chris fixed his posture, less from lazing around and more into focusing on you and whatever nonsense he believed you were going to say. the glint in his eyes grew brighter by the second, both from anticipation and excitement.
“tell me.”
it felt like spring—when the flowers were in bloom, the breeze was blowing ever-so-gently against your warm cheeks, and the swarm of butterflies were surrounding you with its pairs of fluttering wings.
chris made you feel like spring.
“gee, tone down the excitement, mr. bahng,” you inadvertently shifted away, silently praying to whatever force ruling the universe that chris wasn’t aware of the way your heartbeat spiked to his playful grin. “don’t want to disappoint you there.”
”as if you could ever,” chris promptly refuted with a chuckle, chin resting on the palm of his hand. the way his playful gaze was directed right at you, framed by those loose curls of his, proved to cause your heart more problems than ease. “the ever-so-perfect you? a disappointment? really?”
”oh shut up,” you groaned, half wanting to wipe the cocky smirk off his face—or…?
”but then—if you say so, do tell me,” frown on your forehead instantly dissipates, replaced by a mirror of his lopsided grin when you figured you could turn the bullet right back at its owner,
“am i perfectly on point when i say you’re in love?”
despite the slight pang on your heart, you couldn’t help but giggle at the way his face fades into surprise, a shade of blush slowly creeping on the top of his cheekbones.
the topic of love was never really something you discussed with chris. sure, you two met each other in college where hormones were bursting through the roof, but neither you or chris was interested in dating anyone—you with your slowly budding crush on chris, and chris with… god-knows-what he’s interested in. you never pried, for the sake of not making things awkward. that's your norm, and how you’ve spent your last 7 years with chris.
you and chris remained friends, which at some point evolved into best friends (you now, by the hey-i’m-bored-at-2am-let’s-hang kind of standard), and somehow, you two happened to land a teaching job within the same district around the same time. chris went to teach a reputable high school in the area, while you pursue your dream of teaching kids. you hang out at each other’s place every other day, despite the time you spent together consists mostly of being nose-deep in your respective workload.
the topic of love still was something foreign—you wouldn’t deliberately bring it up other than around the occasions when wedding invites stopped by yours or chris’ doorstep.
maybe, it’s time to change that.
”…huh?”
chris is thoroughly perplexed.
”oh come on, don’t even try to lie,” with a smile decorated with victory, you finally teased the man across. “it’s all written on your face, you know,” you continued, fingers gesturing to your own, “but also, your choice of song. god, do you even listen to anything else when you're in love?”
“but i'm not!” he yelped, facepalming himself upon realizing the shift in his tone is a dead giveaway of his true voice. “god—no. i'm not,” he added meekly, shaking his head, “you know i love the song. that's all.”
”fair enough,” acknowledging his plea, you briefly nod, “but that doesn’t justify the way you’ve been keeping the song on repeat! and don’t you think i don’t remember the few other occurrences when you did the same, because i knew for a fact that something happened every time you became distant after going through this rewrite the stars cycle!”
if his face were flushed before, then you’d categorize this new shade apparent on the tip of his ear as a what-the-fuck-i’m-screwed kind of blush and frankly, seeing this new side of him kind of made you regret not bringing the topic up sooner.
”you remembered?” his voice sounded more of a squeak rather than a proper question, still hiding behind the safety of his palms. “no you don’t! that was ages ago!”
”so things did happen!” your grin turned into a laugh, drowning chris’ groan and series of disapproving no when he realized he just bit into your colorful, glimmering bait. “gosh—why didn’t you tell me you were dating someone? i was kinda hurt whenever that happened you know,” you purse your lips dramatically, “i lost a friend to talk to and never exactly know the reason why until today.”
“oh,” chris blinked, finally looking right at you with a puzzled gaze, “you… were? i mean—i’m sorry i hurt you. for the record, i wasn’t dating anyone. i just kinda assumed, you know, since you were dating someone else anyway i thought—“
”hold up—“ both statements rolling off of chris’ lips inadvertently made you hold up a hand, stopping the latter on his tracks. ”what?”
now both of you are puzzled.
you? dating someone?
”i just wanted to give you space,” chris reiterated, hand now awkwardly resting on his equally red nape, “figured you’d want that since me being around will likely bring trouble for you and the person you were dating.”
”but… i haven’t dated anyone since we became friends?”
you’re thoroughly confused.
”wait, what?” chris shook his head in disbelief, “what do you mean you haven’t dated anyone? what about the notes? and the flowers? and the chocolates too! what do you—what do you mean?”
nevermind, now you’re thoroughly confused.
”the ones from back in college?” your memories were not exactly as clear as you expected it to be, but you do remember receiving those gifts a few times due to its absurdity. “that was all from the rich ass kid i tutored! the one who i told you kept teasing me about never receiving any valentine's day gift? that kid? they sent me those gifts as a prank!”
“…what?”
the amount of ‘what’ you two have said in the past few exchanges is ridiculous.
”god—you thought i’ve been dating and never told you?” you finally pieced the puzzle together, incredulous. “and that’s why you distanced yourself? dude, are you serious?”
”well i just assumed!” chris raised his hands in defense, equally as incredulous as you are, “to be fair, those are usually gifts you get for someone you like! how am i supposed to know it’s from the kid you tutored? you never tried to told me!”
”you could’ve asked?” you stated, as-a-matter-of-factly. sometimes, despite that brilliant brain of his, chris could be quite the foolish one between the two of you. “besides, i thought you knew! you literally read the cards!”
”wha—how do you expect me to digest any of that when i was under the assumption someone i like is dating someone else!”
silence befalls chris’ usually cozy living room, leaving the soft resounding melody that hadn’t stopped as the only sound filling up the space. you’re not even sure if your ears were actually catching the right words falling from his lips; it felt too much like a fever dream. judging from the way his eyes turned wide, however,
you might have heard him correctly.
”you… like me?”
you never imagined you’d piece those words together, much less directing them towards chris. hell, even by remaining as friends was enough for you—having him to yourself was not something you thought would ever happen in this lifetime. you’re happy as you were; you’re content with being friends.
chris, on the other hand, is still visibly trying to digest the events that just unfolded around him. from the misunderstanding to unintentionally confessing his feelings, this was not how he expected his Sunday evening to be. all he wanted to do was be near the one person he’d been secretly nurturing his feelings for, praying that maybe one day he’d finally muster up the courage before everything was too late—but this was not how he expected things to turn out.
”i’m sorry,” he finally croaked, breaking the suffocating silence whilst also being too embarrassed to even look you in the eye, “i know it’s weird—from the misunderstanding to, you know, what i said. i never intended for you to find out about it this way. i understand that you don’t feel the same way, it’s okay, you—“
”oh shut up,” you capped his ramblings short, catching chris off guard. it’s not often you cut him off when he speak, so when you do, he knew you meant it.
“just, what?” you sighed, fingers begin massaging the throb on your temple. it’s hard to decipher what you’re currently feeling as a whole, but one thing you know for sure— you’re especially bothered by his last statement.
“chris, how would you even know what i feel if you’ve never even asked me?”
you watched through his pair of curious eyes as thoughts ran inside his mind, slowly deciphering what you meant with the sudden calmness in your voice.
“uh,” finally managing the train of assumptions in his head, chris then looked at you—only now, with a glimmer of hope reflected in his eyes, “do you... like me? like, more than just friends?”
and to that, you finally nodded.
“yeah, you dumbass. for the longest time.”
watching the way chris’ smile bloom easily turned you into another smiling mess—not missing the giggles nor the flush on your cheeks and all. It feels dumb, realizing that you’ve been into each other for forever but never realizing it because of some stupid misunderstanding.
“and i like you too,” chris reiterated, his goofy smile erasing any trace of worry that was present on his face just a second ago. honest to god—you thought you were falling in love all over again for chris.
“in that case...” he shrugged before outstretching a hand, trying his best to play things cool despite the growing excitement in his eyes,
“will you officially be my partner in crime?”
sound of your laugh only fuels the warmth spreading within chris’ heart—and it felt like the way he spent all those countless nights, wishing that one day the stars would eventually align for him finally paid off as you held his hand in yours, smiling brighter than any stars ever discovered.
“gladly.”
©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡
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andersonfilms · 3 months ago
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i think some skin to skin with cowgirl abby could and would fix me :P
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❝ IM IN LOVE WITH YOU ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON!
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an. nonnie, thank you for the request. it's more angst than i planned so i hope that's okay! i also wanna credit the cuntress queen @astralnymphh for this concept. so, so good. y'all need to check it out asap.
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Since she could feel it, from very early on, she’s liked women and never enjoyed the company of men other than to have an occasional beer with. Most of the girls around her worried about settling down, finding a perfect man, one who is respectable, stable, loving. Pleasing the wishes of their parents who are ever so demanding with a downpour of insured judgements. 
It’s all left to be found here, the bellows from a man and a woman living unhappily together, telling others how to live their life. Yet, Abby from a young age yearns for someone else, the piece she believes is missin’. 
The sought after, happily ever after. 
Not a soul she had met for her bill so she keeps her head down. Late night escapades are tight lipped, hidden from spectator’s eyes, ones they would throw slurs her way without a second thought if they knew. Just like they had when she hadn’t kept it a secret.
 Sometimes, it burns. Other times when she was buried in between a woman’s thighs as they cried for mercy in her ear, it didn’t. 
Underneath the midnight sky, her fingertips dance on the white wood — the one she shouldn’t be stepping her boots back on. 
Despite how she tells herself, this will be the last time, it never really is. It’s a quiet night in the small town tucked away in a small town in South Texas, the stars shine bright in the countryside, moonlight shining brighter than it has all month long. 
Abby steps up to your front porch, the pearly white picket fence, the home your dad built with his two bare hands and a dream. When she’s met with your shining smile, the doubt is evident, barely visible but it’s there. 
Is this what you want? Or were you just too kind of a woman to say no? 
Nothing is said between the two of you as you pull her into your home, a senseless wonder swirls in your eyes, getting lost in impenetrable blues. Maybe, it’s what pulls you in and keeps you there like the failed dreams in a dying town. Perhaps it’s when you dream of the sound of her voice at night when she decides not to come, leaving you alone to think of not a single thing but her. 
Once the door closes, it’s just the two of you. Abby’s musk is overwhelming, she tends to be, but you seem to welcome it with open arms. There's a pot roast you made for her, devouring it silently at the round dining room table, her muscular thigh touching yours, reminding you of the feelings which never seem to wither. 
Her brown, weathered stetson hat sits on the empty chair, her fingertips picking at the frayed edge, the nagging thought in her brain shouts at her to say something, anything, but you beat her to it. 
“You don’t have to stay, Abby. You’ve got an early morning, so do I.” You pick up the emptied plates, washing them at the sink when you feel strong, protective, arms wrap around your waist, her chin resting against your shoulder. 
“Why are you putting words in my mouth, darling?” Pink lips decorate deliberate kisses along the side of your neck, “I’m right where I wanna be. M’here with you, not going anywhere.” 
With her pointer finger, she tilts your head to her, dominant lips catching hers, Abby’s hold keeping you in place as she reminds you of what it feels like to be held by the person you call home. The quivering feeling shoots a shiver up your spine, her hands don’t stop moving as they caress your body. 
“C’mon now, you need some sleep.” Her southern drawl is strong as ever as she leads you up the stairs into your bedroom. “S’late, can’t have you not gettin’ sleep because of little ‘ole me.” 
You know what she wants and you know you’ll do it too. 
Anything for her. Right? 
A freshly showered Abby emerges as naked as the day she was born. Porcelain skin tanned by the radiance of the sun from a hard day’s work, a constellation of freckles cover her body. There’s an abundance collecting at her shoulders, across her collarbones as they dust her strong nose and spread across perfectly sculpted cheeks. 
The time you have with each other is few and far in between, occupied by the responsibilities of managing a ranch with her father commands most of the hours of the day, keeping her effectively away from you.
Plus, the feeling swarming in her heart she refuses to see yet she’s here a few times a week, wanting this. If Abby wants more, she’s good at hiding it, but the thought alone is dangerous. You can allow yourself to want more, not when she gives you nothing in return. 
“Are you gonna come over here, gorgeous?” She slides in between your legs, some of her weight soothingly collapses onto you. “Patience darling, m’right here, not going anywhere.” 
With a sigh of content, she grabs you by the waist as she pulls you on top of her with ease. Abby’s golden waves kiss your face as she hides her face in the crook of her neck. Meticulously, the blunt of her fingertips draw patterns on your skin, playing with the hem on your lace undergarment, the only piece of clothing left in your body. 
“You will go somewhere. In the morning, you’ll leave without saying goodbye. Jus’ like you do after every night.” Abby tightens her hold, thinking if she keeps you close you won't slip through but truth be told? She’d be the first to drop you, even if it wasn't her intention. 
“Sorry, m’not strong like you.” 
“I think you’re a lot stronger than you think, y’know?” Her lips find yours as her skin smothers you in the body wash she keeps in the cabinet. Soft breasts melt against her own, calming her in a way Abby can’t quite comprehend. 
This was more than just sex. If that’s all this was, she would be the nearest bar picking up the closeted women who fawn over her before she even steps her foot in the front door. The most sought after woman in town, yet it’s her tongue in your mouth, claiming in a way words fail her. 
“Abby—” The moan vibrates through her, she falls into the sensation of your heavenly skin, smooth against her calloused hands. Every inch of your body feels golden to her. It’s what she craves, the intimacy without having to be, so good, a delicate sigh leaves her puffy lips. “I—” 
With a loving look in her wondrous pools of deep sea blues, with a hint of gray stowed away beneath the light, she inquires for you to continue as she looks up at you. 
Your hands gently touch her face, thumb lovingly soothing over the apples of her cheeks and the scar decorating one of them. There’s nothing she despises more than it, makes her look far too damaged, but you’ve always thought it makes her the person she is. 
Strong, loving, imperfectly perfect. 
The first time you did it, she flinched as she gripped your wrist, pulling your fingers away from marking. Now, she closes her eyes and lets you. 
“When can I tell you without you running? When are you gonna stay?” Abby wants to tell you, say it. I won’t leave. I’ll always be here, right with you, forever. 
She doesn’t. She can’t. 
The words die on her tongue, the three little ones she feels but can’t let through. The past hurts haunt her as it disgusts itself as a never ending hangover which she holds it against you. It’s not meant to be cruel, it certainly isn’t fair, but it’s all she can do until time heals the festering wound. 
“I don’t have an answer for you—” Her blue eyes open, her lips ghosting over your again. “But, this, you? It’s just you and me. No one else, darling.” 
For now, it’s enough, but Abby stresses over the day where you’ve had enough cursing at the wind and whatever god sits above. 
One day, somewhere in the near future, she won’t be.
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taglist: @plutolovesyou @brackishkittie @nybueckers @tlouloser
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lovetei · 1 year ago
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Hi i just read the current fic you wrote about the brothers seeing sheep mc turn into human in front of everyone and was wondering if i could request a fic/headcannon where sheep mc turn into human when they are alone with the brothers.
Thanks for reading 🥰🥰🥰
Eyy, I knew someone would request this sometime. So as the poll result, I'll make this request first. I actually do requests in a "first come, first serve" manner before but I guess I'll do what you guys want to see first :b
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Their reaction to Sheep!MC turning into their human form, naked, in front of them
Warnings: Suggestive, Vulgar words, might not reach your expectations, your gender is not specified, wrong use of tail, wrong use of desk, wrong use of car hood, wrong use of library, wrong spelling, wrong grammar
Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters
Links: Masterlist
Tags: @commets-space @ikevampharem
Parts: Their reaction to Sheep MC changing into their human form at the end of the exchange program
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LUCIFER
You were on your small form
Sitting on top of Lucifer's desk, discussing some things about school
"I'm sorry, Luci. Can you give me a break..? Somethings wrong with me-" Is what you said before your small hands touched your forehead.
He asked you what's wrong but you just remained silent
Then you started glowing
And there you are
Sitting on top of his desk, naked, with both of your legs on each of his sides
He looked at you in shock, his hands trembling, having a hard time trying to stop them from pulling you close to himself "Well, well, well..." He stood up from his seat and pinned you on his desk.
He climbed on top of you with his knees in between your legs "I guess I'll be opening my christmas gift earlier than everyone else." Is the last thing he said before the doors of his office remained locked for the rest of the night.
MAMMON
You're out with, in a cliff, looking at the stars late at night
Sitting on the hood of his car as you two looked up at the sky and point out the beautiful constellations visible
When suddenly a shooting star passed by
Mammon kept on giggling and told you to make a wish and so you did
"I wish I can have my real body back..." Is what you said.
And after mere seconds, you're glowing, brighter than the stars.
Mammon looked at you, shocked, not believing the view in front of him "MC..?" He asked and you looked at him flustered, knowing that you're fully exposed "Are you okay?!" He asked panicking.
You just assured him that you are but then he smirked "You are?" He asked his voice deeper than before as he got on top of you "Then... How about if I do this?~" He teased as his hand hiked up your inner thigh.
LEVIATHAN
You and Levi are in his room, exploring the new event that appeared in your favorite game.
Sitting on his lap, you started to feel something wrong, like your blood is rushing and you're starting to feel hot even if you're close to Leviathan.
"Levi... I don't feel good... Can you hand me that water?" You asked.
Before he can even think about doing so, you started glowing which caught him off guard.
Right after the light dimmed down, your naked figure that is slumped on his desk while sitting on his lap appeared right before him like some reward.
"I'm so sorry, Levi let me just..." You tried to get off his lap but he held you down, his nails digging on your waist.
You tried to look back at him but his tail appeared out of nowhere and kept your head in place, he then stood up "What are you doing..?" You asked. It's not weird that he stood up, I mean he could be uncomfortable.
But what's weird is that he brought your hips together, his grinding behind yours "H-How could I stop myself..?!" His voice is whiny, even sounds like he's the one getting bent over.
"How can I stop myself when y-you're already in the position..?" He asked as you felt his fingers slowly entering you earning a loud gasp "Urgh!-" You chocked as soon as you gasped as his tail forced it self down your throat "Be good please... Just be g-good..!" He begged.
SATAN
Studying inside the Library with Satan will always be one of the best times
But this session will sure be one of the most memorable
In one of the hidden corners of the library, Satan is teaching you about the books only HOL can have.
When suddenly, a light lit up, brightening the dark corner of the library
But that wasn't a light
It was just you
Satan panicked as he thought that maybe he accidentally activated a spell while reading the book titles but... It seems that he's panicking for nothing.
He asked you a few times if you were okay and when you reassured him that you were, he can't help but smile as he watch you jump up and down out of pure happiness, seeming unaware that you're naked in front of him.
Just when he thought everything is perfect, someone just has to barge in 'I'm not letting anyone else see them like this.' is what he thought before he pinned you on one of the shelves with one of his hands covering your mouth and the other one caging you.
You asked "T-This is a good news... Why are you s-shutting me up?" like his good little slut, not even talking about how your legs is starting to quiver after he put one his in between yours, grinding them against you just right.
"Hmm... Do you want them to see you like this?" He leaned in closer to your ear as he licked your neck. He kept his hand on your mouth as he humped you up and down his leg, muffling all the sounds you're making.
"Shh... Control yourself and don't make a mess. You don't want to mess up all these books just because you're being a slut now do you?" He teased before you heard him unbuckle his belt.
ASMODEUS
Being a sheep sure is hard...
You can't wear anything else other than the clothes Asmo makes you.
And by most of the time the only thing you need to wear is some white collar with a tie to look presentable.
And so that's what you had Asmo make you for your formal presentation next week.
"Wow, Darling. Your skin is really... Glowing..?"
You looked at him shock, not knowing what to do after you saw yourself naked with only the white shirt collar and the black tie "Asmo-" "Stand up." He ordered.
He look stressed... His hand is covering his eyes as he he slowly turned around while you stand up. He then stand behind you, looking at your body through your reflection.
"I can't look at you face to face dear..." He explained as he plays with your hair from behind, and that's when you noticed how the pink of his eyes glow brighter than ever.
"But I can't let you go too..." He whined as his hands dropped to your waist "So what should we do..?" He asked as he went down to suck on your neck.
"Ah... And I'm not asking you to go out or anything..." He added "I just want to know what position you want to start to with~"
BEELZEBUB
You're on top of the kitchen counter as Beel eat the dessert you created
He's clearly enjoying it too, smiling so bright as he eats
"Beel can you check if I turn off the oven..?" You ordered as you started to feel hot
Beel looked at you in shock as you started to glow thinking you got caught in fire.
You looked at him in shock as you remained still "MC?" He called out and you just nervously said yes.
He remained silent as he looked at up and down "Is there something wrong..?" You asked while smiling nervously and he shook his head.
"No, I just... Got hungry." He commented making you confused, earlier he told you that your dessert made him feel full for once and now he's hungry again?
"Yes, yes... I feel full after eating those desserts but I'm hungry..." He repeated "For the one that cooked them." He added which caught you off guard.
BELPHEGOR
It was late at night and you're cuddling with Belphie
It's usually cold during night time in the Devildom but you're feeling unusually hot for some reason
You looked to your side and saw that Belphie is not even sweating
The room suddenly brightened so you thought that someone opened the room and turned on the lights
But Belphie is here and Beel is out for night work out
Oh... It's coming from you...
You looked around and realized that Belphegor is still asleep, you also realized that you're naked, completely, and so you tried to get off the bed to at least put some clothes on and get back to cuddling him.
Wanting to surprise him as soon as he wakes up, the thought makes you giggle constantly but when you're about to get off the bed someone grabbed your wrist.
"Fuck..." He groaned out, his head thrown back and his eyes glowing purple "I want to elt you do what you want and wait until the morning so that your little surprise plan will work but..." He explained.
"But you just have to make me so damn hard." He teased, even chuckling a little before he picked you up and put you on top of him, slightly grinding you against the obvious tent in his pants.
"Move." He ordered "And maybe if you satisfied me enough I'll let you get off this bed and pretend that I don't know about your plan the next morning." He mocked.
"That is if you can still walk after this." He grinned.
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userlando · 1 year ago
Text
sweetener — oscar piastri
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oscar piastri x fem!reader [4.2k] summary: you'd shown him a picture of a couple on a date, painting. it was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that oscar had apparently stored away in his mind. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, cunnilingus. a/n: hellooo my loves, this was completely inspired by the mclaren painting video and I just couldn't resist writing it. it was time that oscar made his debut on my blog so hope you enjoy this. as always, don't be a ghost reader bc i'd love to hear your thoughts!! happy reading xx
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Your boyfriend was a closeted romantic but not many people believed it. He was sarcastic, funny and way more intelligent than people gave him credit for and your friends had warned you of lovebombing when you first started dating.
They couldn’t believe that a man his age could be so sweet, doting on you from the start and planning your dates whereas, in the past, you’d handle everything, secretly wishing that the men on Tinder could - for once - plan nice dates that didn’t involve a couch, a movie and minimal dry conversation that lead nowhere.
It was on your fourth date, when Oscar had taken you for a fun night of mini golf that you realised that you’d quite literally struck gold. And when he’d wrapped his arms around you to help you put and kissed your cheek, you knew you were screwed.
Summer break had just begun but you were still swamped with work, sitting in online meetings until your back turned sore and Oscar kept his distance out of respect for exactly two days before he grew bored and restless. He had your full attention during nights, where you’d go for late night drives to get your usual soggy fries and milkshakes, but he saw how you were growing more and more agitated from work and he couldn’t have that.
It was a bit tricky to set up a picnic basket, packing everything up neatly for a drive out to a meadow he’d come across a few months ago. It was something he’d randomly planned - and scrolled through Pinterest for, and the look on your face was worth all the trouble and then some.
You’d cupped his face in your hands and pressed smacking kisses to his face in thanks, squealing in barely contained excitement as you skipped into your room to change out of your sweats. And when you’d emerged… Oscar had half a mind to throw the plans to the wind, restraining his urge to grab you by the hips and guide you back into the bedroom.
He couldn’t stop staring as you walked in front of him, watching the way your legs moved as you took large and calculated steps over the tall grass. You were surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, but his eyes were focused on you and the flowy dress you wore. The hem of it was kissing the tops of your thighs, beautiful and flattering on you but then again, everything you wore was. It must’ve been new, because Oscar would have definitely remembered a dress like that.
You turned your head to shoot him a smile over your shoulder that was brighter than the sun above and Oscar stumbled a little, causing you to giggle as you stuck your hand back for him to grab. The warmth of your palm made him squeeze it in his grasp, taking a few big strides to fall into step with you.
“This is beautiful.” You mused, voice laced with wonder and he was nodding, even though his eyes were trained on you.
“Yeah.” He murmured, sounding faraway and you shot him an amused glance that Oscar absolutely loved.
The furrowed brows and teasing tilt of his lips would be the death of him. He glanced up, scanning his eyes for a good place to spread out the blanket and he made a pleased sound in his throat when he spotted a hidden spot beneath a gigantic tree. It had plenty of shade and he thanked his lucky stars because he’d forgotten sunscreen and the sun was brutal today. He’d hate to see you get sunburnt. Although he never did mind rubbing you down with aloe.
Oscar cleared his throat when his mind started wandering, ridding himself of his thoughts as he steered the both of you to the spot under the tree. You followed him, humming a song quietly and he couldn’t help but smile at the serenity of it all.
You took a few moments to spread out the blanket, toeing off your shoes and settling down with a sigh. Oscar popped open the lid of the basket and reached inside for the bottle of Orangina and champagne.
“Ah, fuck.” He swore as he peered down into the basket, making you frown in concern.
“What?” You scooted closer, craning your neck to see what he was looking at.
“I forgot the glasses.” He looked up at you, giving you an apologetic smile that you were quick to wave off. “Sorry, love.”
“That’s fine.” You made grabby hands at the bottle, watching him pass it over with a laugh. “We’ll just have to share.”
You unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the cold juice while Oscar started unpacking the vast array of food. He’d really gone all out, picking out your favourite pastries and fruits and something about that made you very emotional. Oscar glanced up at you, stopping his movements when he noticed the shine in your eyes and your wobbly lip.
“Baby.” His voice made you look up, and he laughed when you smiled tearfully at him, like you were trying to reassure him that your tears were out of joy rather than sadness. Oscar cupped your cheek and pulled you forward for a kiss. “Why have you gone all teary on me?”
You gave a heavy sigh that made Oscar’s heart clench painfully in adoration. “It’s just… You’re so sweet to me. I love this. I love you.”
Oscar watched you scoot closer, pressing his face into your hair when you cuddled into his side. You smelled like flowers and he couldn’t resist burying his nose in your hair because that scent was absolutely intoxicating. It was everywhere at home. On the pillows, towels and blankets and it always pulled the same reaction from him.
Sometimes you’d pack his suitcases for him, not because he asked or demanded you, but because your heart was just that kind and you’d spritz your perfume on his clothes because you knew that he secretly loved that. And he did. Nothing made him feel more homesick and loved than when he flipped the lid of his suitcase open and was hit with your scent.
“I guess you’re gonna love me even more.” He said and that prompted you to look up, pulling away from his embrace slightly. The curious tilt of your eyebrows made him smile. “Here.”
He handed you the small container of washed and fresh strawberries before turning to his bag to rifle through it. You gave a laugh of surprise when you realised what he was pulling out, eyeing the paintbrushes and tubes of colours.
You couldn’t believe that he remembered. The one time you’d tilted your phone towards him when you were sat on the sofa, showing him a picture of a random couple painting during a date. It was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that Oscar had apparently stored away in his mind.
“I suck at painting.” He said and it made you laugh. “But I thought this could be fun.”
“Oscar!” You didn’t even know what to say, staring wide eyed and speechless at the things sitting between you before moving your eyes up to him.
His cheeks went pink, bashful smile stretching his lips and you got up on your knees to smack a kiss to his mouth that he laughed into.
“We’re going to outshine Monet.” You said determinedly, sitting back down and grabbing your canvas.
The evening went on as the both of you painted, not very well but it was fun and prompted several fits of laughter from the both of you as you took occasional peeks at your paintings.
One too many gulps of fizzy champagne later and sandwiches eaten, the both of you found yourselves almost done with your pieces. You were sitting cross legged, face pinched in concentration and Oscar couldn’t help but sneak a picture on his phone; finding the sight of you all too endearing. You had a little paint on your cheek that you weren’t aware of, lips slightly pursed and Oscar couldn’t for the life of him stop staring at your exposed thighs. Your dress had ridden up, giving him an amazing view of your legs and he had to physically flex his fingers to keep from grabbing at them.
He cleared his throat and looked away, glancing up at the sky squinting. The sun had found its way behind some very dark clouds and he silently cursed the weather app for giving him false information because it looked like it was definitely going to rain.
“I think it’s gonna rain.” He said, absentmindedly voicing his thoughts out loud and you looked at him before glancing up at the sky.
You scrunched your nose before your face transformed into a smile that made your boyfriend’s heart skip. He squirmed.
“That’s okay.” You said slowly and put down your brush. “Because I... Am done.”
“Let’s see it then.” He grinned at the way you grabbed both sides of your canvas, revealing the other side slowly.
The splash of colour was pretty and it wasn’t hard to make out what it was supposed to be. A beach with a colourful sky consisting of pink, orange and even subtle red. Oscar nodded his head, visibly impressed and you smiled.
“That’s gorgeous, I don’t even wanna show mine now.” He said and you frowned.
“But I wanna see it.” You said, pushing yourself up a little to strain your neck.
But Oscar was quick to hide his canvas close to his chest which made you pout.
“No, it’s hideous.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.
“Oscar!” You whined and it almost made him cave.
You realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to concede, so you put your canvas down and crawled on all fours over to his side of the blanket. He leaned back, smiling at your giggles until you were on top of him; The awkward angle sending you both into a fit of laughter.
“Is that a duck?” Your voice went high with laughter and Oscar sucked his cheeks into his mouth when you grabbed his canvas and took a look at it. “It’s so cute!”
“It’s —“
“It even has lashes!” You squinted your eyes at it and Oscar frowned.
“That’s eyebrows.” He said and you looked up at him, an apologetic smile playing on your lips.
“Oh.” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your laughter, but Oscar raised his eyebrows in mock insult and it made it harder. “Sorry.”
He wanted to open his mouth and feign insult, but the way you were chewing on your lip made it very hard to concentrate and he found himself getting distracted easier than he’d like to admit. The shine your saliva left had him craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, revelling in your surprised moan that you breathed into his mouth.
You tasted of fizzy champagne and sweet fruits, Oscar licking into your mouth and it made you squirm in his lap. He kissed you until you were out of breath, grabbing your sides and rolling the both of you around until he was straddling you. The squeal that left your lips made you both laugh and it didn’t stop when he struggled to get his canvas out from between your chests to throw it to the side. You blinked up at him slowly, and it was like he was stuck in a trance.
The first drop on your forehead was almost comical, and you thought that maybe he’d accidentally drooled on you for a second. But Oscar glanced up with a frown, just in time for the skies to open up and begin drizzling. Luckily, you found yourselves under the tree and that’s what made it so easy to dismiss the rain, grabbing the collar of Oscar’s shirt to redirect his gaze back to you.
“We’re gonna get si—“ He was interrupted by your lips, a small mmpfh being punched out of his chest and you were quick to swallow the noise, kissing him until the pink in his cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and his lips were kissed raw.
You loved the way he looked after a make out, with the dark eyes and the smatter of colour on his cheeks. It drove you further to mess his hair up and have him grinding down into you.
He wasn’t doing it yet, hips carefully held above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight but you wanted it. Craved it, even.
The rush of water coming down from the sky turned the air damp, clamming your already heated skin up and making it sticky. You let your thighs fall open in an obvious invitation, one that Oscar was too happy to accept when he slotted his hips against yours; Successfully pressing your crotches together. The weight of him was delicious, sparking something hot in your body that had you wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. You felt your foot knock something over, but you were too preoccupied with the way his lips were wandering to actually care.
He kissed wetly down your jaw, sucking insistently on your sensitive skin under your earlobe. You keened, hips jumping up into his in an attempt to grind your centre against him and Oscar quickly met you halfway, the hard bulge of him setting fireworks off in your chest.
“Oscar, please.” You gasped when he bit your throat. He hummed in acknowledgement, low and breathless. “Need more.”
He detached his lips from your neck, glancing around as if he was keeping an eye out for someone and you took that moment to take in his face. The pout of his lips and the width of his neck that you were dying to mark up with your mouth. The sight of it always did things to you, so much so that there had been several occasions where you went a little overboard and sent him on his way to the paddock with a bruised up neck and a blush dancing on his cheeks. He never really protested though, so you didn’t stop.
“Out here?” He asked, looking down at you and you nodded shyly. “Really?”
You turned your head to stare off into the distance, thinking that there was no way anyone was frolicking anywhere near you in this weather. And if there were people around, it was almost impassible to spot the two of you with the way the rain was coming down incredibly heavy. It was hard to see past a few metres and the grass was high enough to hide you both from any prying eyes.
In the meantime your thoughts had calculated the very low risk of being caught, Oscar had begun his ascent up your thighs with his hands, pulling the hem of your dress up in the process. His eyes were fastened on you, wanting to catch every micro expression on your face the higher he went up.
Your mouth opened in a quiet exhale when his hands touched your clothed pussy, thighs trembling when his finger ran over the nub of your clit. Oscar’s heart was beating fast, emotion and adoration gripping his heart in a vice when you looked up at him through your lashes.
You hadn’t dated for that long, but he’d memorised every single expression on your face, along with their meaning. He prided himself in how well he could read you, and he felt just a little smug whenever you brought it up. There was always a bit of wonder in your eyes and surprise in your voice when he said something that you didn’t expect him to remember. Like you never had anyone in your life to pay close attention to you, or even care to and it made him sad because how could they not?
You had somehow managed to become his entire world in the span of a few months and he intended to keep you happier than the average person.
That’s why he didn’t wait to pull your panties to the side when you whispered a small plea, sounding a lot like please, fully zoned in on making you feel as good as possible.
“Oh, shit.” You swore and Oscar hid a smile by hanging his head to stare between your legs instead.
You never swore in daily conversation, but boy, did you turn into a sailor when he was between your thighs.
“My pretty girl.” He complimented you, voice quiet but loud enough to overpower the sound of the downpour.
You smiled shakily, lip wobbling in pure pleasure when he swiped his fingers between your slick folds to wet them. Oscar circled your clit a few times, pulling some moans from your lips and he kept his eyes on your shiny bottom lip as he located your hole and pushed a finger inside.
He groaned around an exhale at the tightness of you, your warmth enveloping his fingers beautifully as he tested the waters. He must’ve deemed you ready for a second digit, sliding it inside alongside the first and watching you squirm atop the blanket.
“God, your fingers.” You bit your lip when his thumb joined in, rubbing your clit just the way he knew you liked it. “Like magic.”
It took everything in your boyfriend not to smile proudly and puff his chest out. It always made him preen when you complimented him while you were lost in the moment, and he knew that a big part of him needed and wanted your validation.
Oscar listened to your whines and moans, bending his head down to press small and fleeting kisses to your clammy skin. Your chest was heaving as he kissed you between your breasts, feeling his own breathing go heavy when you arched your back and stuck your chest out. Like you wanted him to touch you there. And really, who was he to say no when you begged so prettily?
The neckline of your dress was thankfully very stretchy, allowing your boyfriend to pull the material down enough to expose your chest to his eyes. You weren't wearing a bra, something he’d noticed on the car ride over here when the AC had been blasting cold air and tightened your nipples. He hadn’t said anything then but his cock had stirred in interest at the sight.
He moaned almost depravingly when he got his mouth around your nipple, licking and sucking on it until your walls were clenching around his moving fingers. He gave the other the same treatment before deciding that he’d waited enough, moving down your body while his other unoccupied hand bunched up the fabric of your dress over your stomach.
You were dripping wet, slick sliding down his hands and presumably messing up the blanket underneath you and Oscar had to bring a hand down to squeeze around his cock. The sight of you under him with your legs bent and wide open was something he’d take a mental photo of, storing it away in his mind for his loneliest nights.
“Fuck,” he swore, shuffling further down so he was face to face with where you needed him the most. He gave you a sucking kiss on the inside of your thigh and you whined. “You smell so good, baby.”
That had you squirming self-consciously, bringing your hands up to hide your face. Your mouth opened against the palm of your hand when you felt his tongue swipe between his fingers messily, like he was tasting you and you bit down on your hand to stop the inevitable moan from tumbling out.
“Oscar.” You pleaded with him and the next swipe came almost immediately, like he didn’t want to keep you waiting.
Oscar was as talented as they came, when it came to his hands and how to use them. The way the both of you had learned each other’s bodies was admirable, and Oscar had really learnt it well. He knew what made you tick, what made you throw your head back and scream out blasphemous words that had him smirking.
It wasn’t a surprise, really, when he took you to newer highs in record speed. With the aid of his fingers and mouth, he managed to pull out your first orgasm that sent your head spinning right into the gutter. Your thighs closed around his head, turning your head to the sky as you cried out your climax.
Oscar withdrew his fingers from the tight grip of your pussy, but he didn’t stop licking gently as you slowly came down from your high. He kept his eyes on you, enjoying the tremble in your legs around him and the occasional hitch in your breath.
He couldn’t see your face, it being turned to the sky still, but he watched your throat bob before finally looking down at him with a dazed look on your face. Your body jerked when he tongued across your clit, hand shooting down to his hair to grip it loosely.
“That was…” You trailed off, still out of breath and tongue thick in your mouth but Oscar grinned like you’d handed him the stars and moon.
“Another one?” He asked, almost hopefully and you gave him a look of slight disbelief.
You laughed with a nod, trying not to flush warmth when he tilted his head back to wipe at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so casual, but the sight of it made your entire being turn fire hot. Even more so when he pressed a few absentminded kisses to your thighs before going right back in, working you with his tongue until the initial sensitivity faded off to the background and brought forth a second wave of pleasure.
Oscar’s jaw was starting to ache, but you were grasping at his hair and scratching his scalp so pleasantly that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He needed you to come again, needed to taste more of you because he couldn’t have enough. So, he upped the ante and focused on your clit, laving his tongue over it and pursing his lips to suck it into his mouth.
He was almost disappointed when your moans started turning high pitched, thighs clenching tightly around his head because he wanted it to go on for longer. But he couldn’t be too sad about it when you sounded the way you did, so breathless and lost to the world.
There was no doubt that anyone could’ve heard you if it weren’t for the rain, the way you were moaning and cursing. It made Oscar smug, but also so fucking hard that he had to reach his hand down to fish himself out of his pants, almost moaning into your pussy when his hand closed around his length.
It really wouldn’t take long for him to come, already feeling sensitive to his touch as he jacked himself off.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cussed suddenly in one drawn out breath, hips arching up into his mouth as you groaned out your second orgasm.
The hitches in your breaths as the orgasm rolled through you made Oscar squeeze himself and it was when you pushed his head off of you with your hand that he hurriedly sat up, getting so dizzy from the sudden movement that he almost went teetering to the side. You hadn’t realised that he was taking care of himself until you caught sight of his hand, peering at him through hooded eyelids as he groaned low in his throat and aimed between your legs, coming with a jump of his hips.
It made you clench around nothing. The sight of him throwing his head back, hair damp and floppy as he sucked air into his lungs. He gave off a full body shiver, sitting back on his heels with a deep sigh.
“That was new.” You said around a smile, making him look down at you. His cheeks went pink, smile a little shy and you grabbed his arm to pull him down so you could kiss his smiling mouth.
“I hope that was okay.” He whispered against your lips and you gave him a slow nod.
“More than okay.” You glanced down between you two, pulling a slight grimace at your soiled underwear. “Need to get those off though.”
Oscar laughed and sat up, reaching for tissues while you did your best to pull your panties down your legs. You let them drop to the side, cheeks warm at the sight of both your spend on the wet material.
“Do you reckon it’s better to wait the rain out?” Oscar asked casually as he pried your legs apart, gently cleaning you up.
You glanced around, noting that while it was still raining, it seemed to let up quite a bit and you figured that it wouldn’t take long before it ceased completely. It was a trek back to the car and you honestly didn’t think that your legs could work for the next half hour anyway.
Oscar threw away the soiled tissues and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him until you got the memo and moved to snuggle up into his side. He pulled you in, burying his face in your hair with a sated sigh.
“Probably best to wait it out.” You replied belatedly. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.”
Oscar hid a smile in your hair.
“Me neither.” He murmured against your temple.
He’d sit around here forever if it meant spending time with you.
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tetheredfeathers · 9 months ago
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Beach scene.
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"I do," I say. "I need you." He looks upset, takes a deep breath as if to begin a long argument, and that's no good, no good at all, because he'll start going on about Prim and my mother and everything and I'll just get confused. So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss.
I feel that thing again. The thing I only felt once before. In the cave last year, when I was trying to get Haymitch to send us food. I kissed Peeta about a thousand times during those Games and after. But there was only one kiss that made me feel something stir deep inside. Only one that made me want more. But my head wound started bleeding and he made me lie down. This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us.
My hands cup either side of his face, his stubble feels rough against my smooth hands. My cold lips envelop his impossibly warm ones, my hands make their way around the nape of his neck, and a sudden desire to pull on his golden curls overtakes me. A certain urgency invades my senses. I lose comprehension of reality and the gravity of the situation we are in.
His hands come around my shoulders to caress me, I think, until he pushes me away. My face surges with embarrassment. In what world would Peeta refuse my kisses? Is he out of his mind?
"Katn-iss, lo-ve, listen," he attempts to speak as I slither my hands down his waist, lifting the hem of his undershirt. "Yo-u're the one w-ho should—"
My heart races as his swollen lips form the word "love." Is he saying this for the audience, or does he really want to call me love? I am his love, aren't I? I think of a world where Peeta would come home from work every day and say, "Love, I'm home." Oh, how I would long for him all day, both our faces lighting up brighter than every star collected as we make our way to each other.
"Don't 'love' me," I spit, fuming at his selflessness. How dare he try to sacrifice himself for me? How dare he think I could survive one day on this earth without him? How dare he not realize how much I need him? My body heaves with anger and passion, lighting an ethereal flame as I engulf his lips once again. I lose all restraint, one hand aggressively tugging at his blonde locks and the other swiftly removing his shirt. I absorb his words with my mouth, sliding my tongue across his upper lip. A breathy sigh escapes from his mouth, sending shooting stars into my head. He finally gives in and unlatches his lips, allowing my tongue to enter. His tongue is no competition for mine; I push him over and explore his mouth with unearthly desire.
In the caressing silence that follows, I find myself on top of him, straddling his lap. I grind my hips against him, breathing out his name as I feel his arousal against my core. His burning chest heaves harder against me as he peppers my neck with kisses, working his way to my ear. Overwhelmed with desire to become one with him, every inch of my body buzzes with electricity. A peculiar place in my body pulsates with energy, only slightly relieved when my hips grind against him. I want every inch of his body enveloping mine, covering me and holding me ever so tightly.
The rough pads of his fingers brush ever so slightly against my breasts, making me arch my back against him. He smirks mischievously against my collarbone, proud of the reaction he is able to elicit just through a slight brush. Oh two can plan the game, Mellark. Just you wait.
I glide my nails over his back, finally resting my hands on his hips, pulling him ardently against that spot that's begging for relief. His hips buck aginst mine as my mouth lays wet, open mouthed kisses all over his golden neck; Our moans chorus through the dead of the night as the breeze envelops our tangled silhouettes.
His stocky build flushes against my soft curves, reminding me of all those nights on the train. Why hadn't I tried this sooner? Why hadn't I realized that he is the only boy I really need? Why hadn't I understood that I physically cannot survive without him?
What if this could be it? What if one day I could take Peeta to the meadow behind my old house with miniature versions of ourselves? A small girl with black hair, blue eyes, and a little boy with blonde hair, grey eyes. Somehow under the hot, pink sky and the gritty sand digging underneath our feet, I imagine a world where my beautiful my boy with the bread could be a father.
The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
It's the first crack of the lightning storm - the bolt hitting the tree at midnight - that brings us to our senses. It rouses Finnick as well. He sits up with a sharp cry. I see his fingers digging into the sand as he reassures himself that whatever nightmare he inhabited wasn't real.
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dokries · 6 months ago
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your hoshi fic was the cutest fluffiest thing I’ve read in ages. It was so cute keep up the great work, and if your requests r open, could you write something fluffy for jeonghan too maybe? Loving your writing so far ⸜(*ˊᵕˋ*)⸝ ♡
midnight popsicles
pairing: yoon jeonghan x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff, established relationship
word count: 553
warnings: mentions of food, jeonghan being a prick (in love, that is), a forehead kiss, reader is mentioned to be wearing sweatpants if that’s important
author note: HIII thank you so much anon <33 i really appreciate the support, and i’m so glad you like my hoshi fic! i hope you like this one as well ♡
masterlist
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“hurry, the ice cream’s gonna melt by the time we get home!” you yell back at your boyfriend, waiting impatiently for jeonghan to catch up with you. though you loved him and his tendency to…do things slowly, to put it nicely, the ice cream stashed in the convenience store bags in his hands was going to melt soon, even if it was midnight.
he huffs as he gets closer, putting his head on your shoulder from behind you. “i’m literally a step behind you.”
you mock his tone before giggling when he nuzzles his face in your neck. he moves to walk beside you instead, and barely manages to pull out two plastic covered popsicles from the bag in his left hand and shoots you a mischievous look. “i’m sure the guys won’t notice if we steal a couple of them, right?”
you laugh before taking both of the sweet treats in your hands and opening them, stuffing the wrappers in your sweatpant pocket. you put one in jeonghan’s mouth, which is already open–you hear a garbled thank you from him, his mouth full–and then put the other in your own mouth, savouring the taste.
you stretch your arms out as you walk, looking up at the dark sky. thanks to the light pollution, you can’t see too many stars, so it was a good thing the full moon drew your attention instead. maybe it’s because you’re with jeonghan but you swear it seems much brighter than it ever has before.
amazed, you murmur to your boyfriend beside you. “the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”
he snorts, causing you to look over in time to see a smirk cross his face as he lazily takes a bite out of the almost finished popsicle. “i know. you tell me everyday to the point where i should set a limit for each day.”
you stop and pick at the tuft of hair escaping his loose ponytail, forcing it back to fit in with the rest of his hair before looking up at him “what?” you say, confused.
oh. he must’ve thought you meant the romantic phrase.
blinking too quickly, you stumble on your words, the popsicle in your hands almost slipping out. “i meant it literally! n-not like i don’t love you–you know i do, hannie–but i didn’t–” you get cut off by jeonghan placing his hand on the top of your head and giggling, both bags of ice cream now safely in his other hand.
“i know what you meant, i’m just teasing you!” he says with the insufferable smile he has when he pulls pranks on seungkwan, earning him an eye roll.
“i love you hannie,” you say with a smile, the forgotten popsicle in your hands dripping onto the pavement…and your pant leg.
he grins before looking at your legs in alarm, noticing the mess being created in front of him. “HEY YOUR POPSICLE–” he yells, making you look down and yelp, shoving what’s left of the popsicle in your mouth.
he can’t help but chuckle when you shoot him a thumbs up, your mouth full of the brightly coloured ice. he moves in with a cheeky smile, kissing the spot in the middle of your forehead.
“i think the moon is beautiful too when i’m with you,” jeonghan says softly.
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adverbally · 2 months ago
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Let the Stars Fall
Written for the @steddiemicrofic September prompt “Shower” | wc: 399 | rated: G | cw: none | tags: early established relationship, post-S4, Orionid meteor shower, stargazing, pure cosmic fluff | title from “Meteor Shower” by Cavetown
———
The “shower” in “meteor shower” is a little exaggerated, Steve thinks. It’s more of a sprinkle, a streak of light shooting across the sky every couple minutes, but it’s breathtaking regardless.
Hawkins doesn’t have much light pollution, so he and Eddie drive into the hills and camp out for a good view. The late October night is cool but they’re warm in their cocoon, having zipped their separate sleeping bags into one quilted pocket where they can curl up together against the chill.
When their eyes adjust and the Milky Way coalesces into view, Steve gasps. He’s never been one for stargazing or astrology or whatever Robin called it, but he has to admit that the night sky is a gorgeous sight, sparkling and swirling above them. It’s colorful, too, not black and white like he tends to imagine but deep blue and purple fading into orange near the horizon, freckled with red and yellow and green stars. There’s a beauty to it, big and small, dark and bright at the same time, that Steve can barely wrap his mind around.
More importantly, there’s a beauty to Eddie excitedly pointing out constellations, explaining the mythological stories behind them, talking through the most notable stars and planets for this time of year. It’s a lot to keep track of, but Steve tries to commit as much as he can to memory: Orion’s belt, the bright stars that compose his left shoulder and right foot, the Winter Triangle, the nebula that Eddie assures him is right there, where his sword would hang.
Once they glimpse the first meteor, they fall silent, eagerly awaiting the next one’s appearance. Some of them paint a radiant trail that lingers, while others blink in and out of sight so quickly that Steve wonders if he imagined them. When two appear in quick succession, Steve thinks about Eddie’s hand in his, the way they can’t seem to get close enough, the way they gravitate toward each other in an orbit neither of them wants to break.
When Steve flicks his gaze over to Eddie, he’s gazing right back, looking more awed by Steve than by the meteor shower. Eddie’s eyes twinkle, shining brighter than Betelgeuse and Rigel, and his lips are cold when Steve kisses him, and this thing between them is still new but it feels as infinite as the universe stretched out above them.
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chaoticbardlady99 · 10 months ago
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I Wondered if I Could Come Home? (Astarion x Pregnant F! Reader) MDNI 18+ Part 2
CW: Smut, insecurities, pregnancy sex, PIV
Tag-list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @starstruck-mj-writings @divineknightmare
Part 1 is on my Masterlist :)
This is unedited because I’m tired 😂💜
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Photo belongs to @cheekylittlepupp on Tumblr
“These are all truly terrible options, Darling,” Astarion whispers into your ear, “I feel like putting anyone in this should be considered abuse.”
You try and fail to suppress the laughter- covering your mouth with your hand when another woman shoots you a glare. You should regret dragging Astarion in here, but you don’t. He’s right- this place has absolutely nothing adorable and you hate shopping here. You are very happy he shares the same sentiment.
This was an unplanned stop in the grand scheme of the evening. Astarion had insisted on taking you on a date the moment you woke up this morning. When you went to protest and say, “I look like a beached whale, no”- you were thoroughly kicked by Eowyn.
You picked the name Eowyn together a little over a month after Astarion first arrived. It’s almost month 7 now and although Astarion missed out for a few months- your daughter and him are already peas in a pod.
You disagree with Astarion? Kick. If you pick a book that doesn’t interest him? Kick. You get hormonal, angry, and Astarion sounds even slightly sad? You bet you are gonna be running to the bathroom to throw up. She’s a spiteful fucking kid and you cannot catch a break. You are the one carrying her and yet!
You suppose you can’t blame her though. You don’t want to give him any reason to leave anymore than she does. You know Astarion won’t leave again, but that worry is also silently there.
“Darling,” Astarion whispers, “come look at this atrocity.”
Astarion scrunches up his nose and picks up one of the other baby outfits. He looks at you with a “really?” and shows you a piece of fabric fashioned into a onesie with “Selune Loves Me”. You don’t even bother to suppress your snort of laughter.
“I have a horrible feeling that Shadowheart will be buying that for Eowyn,” you sigh.
“Oh no- not if I can help it!” Astarion puts the onesie back (he even folds it), “our kid is going to be a raging atheist and I will have it no other way!”
“And if she decides to be a cleric or a paladin?”
Astarion grumbles a “well that’s different” under his breath. He opens the door for you and bows dramatically as you walk through it. Astarion’s smile is brighter than the sun when you giggle.
“I’m glad you are willing to support all possible life paths, Star,” you tease.
“I will eventually convince her to change her mind,” he muses, “we’ll begin putting swords and instruments in front of her and hope she turns out better than Volo.”
You huff at him and roll your eyes. He intertwined his fingers with yours and you continued the rest of your date.
***************************
You are laying in your bed- remaining absolutely still. Astarion seems like he is still sleeping?
Whatever sick fuck keeps adding spice into your life, has gifted you an incredibley real sex dream with Astarion. Again.
You told yourself you were going to behave- certainly not because you want to. It’s out of respect for Astarion and his boundaries. You don’t know what he’s been up to or if he would even want to while you look like this.
Oh wonderful- tears.
The hardest part of this whole pregnancy nonsense is that you don’t feel good about yourself or how you look. You didn’t necessarily have the best self esteem to start with, but your body changing in front of you almost every day wasn’t helping. You know your hips have gotten slightly wider and your breasts have gotten bigger. You try to be active as much as possible so you feel some control and you eat as healthy as you possibly can without lacking nutrients, but none of it felt like enough. You feel disgusting.
Your silent tears fall down your cheeks as you suppress your pitiful sniffling. If you close your eyes, you’ll eventually fall asleep. That’s what you usually do and that’s what you did when Astarion was gone. Sleep heals everything.
Maybe your body has finally had enough of pushing all of the discomfort back. All those feelings of being unwanted, unloved, and not like yourself are ripping you apart at the seams as they rush to your eyes.
You begin to move away from Astarion- deciding it would be better for you to sit in your little rocking chair and read for a bit. There is no reason to make yourself upset over something you can’t change. Your pregnancy will be over soon enough anyhow.
“Darling?”
Astarion’s voice pierces the silence and his fingers are clinging to your shirt as if to keep you there.
You clear your throat, “yes my Star?”
“Where are you going?”
Astarion sounds incredibly worried. It’s been hard for him to see you when you are sick or when you are obviously picking yourself apart in the mirror. Astarion is constantly worrying about your vertigo and you walking around without him or Shadowheart to catch you.
You told him that his worry isn’t necessary and that you would let him know if you were feeling dizzy or like you were going to pass out. You don’t want to bring harm to yourself or your child.
“I know you know your body, Darling,” Astarion says with his shoulders slumped and a slight frown on his lips, “I have no right to tell you what you can or cannot do, but please, my Love. I just found you again. I can’t even fathom the idea of-“
Astarion had broken down sobbing, then you began to cry, and then Eowyn was kicking so you caved and promised to let him know if you were leaving the room.
You roll over to look at him and his eyebrows raise in alarm. You hastily run the tears away and smile.
“I was just going to sit on the rocking chair.”
Astarion just squints at you and you avoid his gaze- looking up out the window.
“The moon is very pret-“
“Tav, why were you crying?”
Dammit. It’s the “I’m serious” Astarion voice.
“Oh uh,” you chuckle awkwardly, “I just had an interesting dream and it led to interesting thoughts- then TADA pregnancy hormones.”
Astarion flashes you a teasing smile before ghosting his lips over yours.
“Oh I am very aware of these ‘interesting’ dreams of yours, Darling. I’ve been waiting for you to finally ask me to re-enact a few.”
Your heart stops momentarily and you blink a couple times. There is no way you heard that correctly. You begin to tear up and Astarion’s brows furrow in concern.
“You don’t want that,” you say in a low voice, a stray tear rolls down your cheek, “I look disgusting.”
His lips are on yours in an instance- a whimper leaves your lips as you feel a warm stirring between your legs. It’s almost embarrassing how desperately your body wants him- craves him. Being kissed like this by him again is a blessing.
“I wish you would stop trying to guess what I want when it comes to you,” he sighs against your lips, “and I wish you could see how beautiful you are- all the time.”
“My body has just changed so much- to me anyway,” you whisper, “I worry that I’m not attractive to you anymore.”
Astarion grabs your hand with his and guides you down to the front of his underwear- opening your hand so that you palm against his erection. You blush furiously when he forces your eyes to meet his with his other hand. His pupils are blown wide with lust.
“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you anymore?”
“No,” you whisper shyly.
“I want you desperately,” he places a chaste kiss on your lips, “As I always have.”
You feel embarrassed by the sigh of relief that leaves your mouth upon his confession. You want to be with him this way so badly it hurts. You hesitantly wrap your leg around his hip and you pull him in for a kiss.
Astarion’s lips are soft against yours. You keep a slow pace- unsure of how far he would be willing to go.
You find out pretty quickly when you feel his hands find your underwear- tearing away the fabric completely. You pout against his lips playfully.
“I liked those.”
“I’ll buy you a thousand more pairs, my Love.”
“But-“
The breath leaves your body when you feel his fingers begin to play with your clit. Astarion roughly presses the pads of his fingers against your clit- the additional friction making you keen in pleasure.
Astarion starts to pull away and your hands find purchase in his hair- pulling him back to you. Your desperation spurs him on and your lips are crashing against each other at a fast pace.
You feel him pull you back by your hair, making you look at him- you open your mouth to protest, but then you feel one of his fingers slide into you. Astarion pushes himself all the way into you with his finger until his palm is teasing your already sensitive clit. He must realize how ready you are for him because he enters a second finger and then a third shortly after.
The feeling of his fingers inside of you are intoxicating and the way he is looking at you is even more so. Your moans are on display for him to see- Astarion’s hand in your hair has yet to loosen as he finger fucks you relentlessly.
“So good, so perfect,” he says, “and I’m the only one who will ever have the pleasure of breeding you.”
Astarion’s words rip something inside of you open- you begin to clench around his fingers hard as your climax sinks into your body. His name falls from your lips like a prayer.
It probably is- if you are being entirely honest to yourself. Astarion looks ethereal under the moonlight that floods the room. His curls are mussed up a bit from sleep, his lips turned upward and slightly parted as he watched you be overtaken with pleasure.
Astarion leaves a chaste kiss on your lips and moves your hair out of your face. He sits up and pulls you onto his lap and traces the veins in your neck down to your collarbones. His hands meet in the middle to unlace your shirt all while making eye contact the entire time.
“Gods,” Astarion whispers as he kisses down your chest, “you are exquisite, my Love.”
You must have forgotten what it was like to be under Astarion’s lustful hands and loving gaze. Your dreams were nowhere like this.
You whine at the skin contact and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The feeling of his cold fingers running along your skin- how they tease and pinch your sensitive nipples. Astarion’s word of praise alone are enough to get you off.
“So needy.”
Astarion takes one of your sensitive nubs into his mouth- sucking and grazing it with his fangs. His other hand begins to trail downward as grinds his erection up into your unclothed, soaking folds.
“Have you missed me, Darling?” Astarion coos, “has no one else been able to make you feel this way since I’ve been gone?”
You know exactly what he is asking.
“Yes,” you say breathlessly, “because my hands are nowhere as skilled as yours.”
Astarion’s laughter fills the air and your body with joy. His hand moves to release his erection from his underwear. You gasp at the sight and your hand immediately goes downwards- you feel him growl against your breast when you swipe your finger through some of his precum.
You look down and his eyes are on yours as you put your finger between your lips, licking it clean.
Astarion moves his attention from your breasts- pulling you by your hair down to his mouth so he can taste himself on you. The other hand lines him up with your entrance before pulling you down by your hips at the same time he thrusts upward.
You see stars as Astarion grazes that perfect spot inside of you. His hands had untangled from your hair a while ago, both of his hands guiding your hips down so that you continue to take his full length.
“Astar- I’m going to- fuck,” you cry out as his fingers find your clit again.
“You are going to what, my Dear? I’m afraid I didn’t catch that,” he says teasingly, his thrusts getting sloppier as you clench harder and harder.
“I- I,” your eyes roll in the back of your head as you pitch forward, putting your face in the crook of his neck. Your moans reverberate through the room- your voice is almost guttural from the intense amount of pleasure you are experiencing.
Astarion’s orgasm followed yours quickly- his moans coming out ragged and incoherent as he fills you to the brim with his seed.
You kiss his cheek, along his cheek bone, and then back until you are in the crook of his neck again.
“You are the most incredible woman I have ever had the privilege to lay eyes on,” Astarion says fondly, “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Star,” your blissfully fucked body relaxes against his.
You don’t remember when you began to fall asleep or when Astarion repositioned you so that you were spooning. The only thing you can recall is Astarion kissing your shoulder, neck, and behind your ear while whispering his gratitude and love for you into your skin.
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shadowdaddies · 10 months ago
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I have another request! Your writing is just amazing.
Would love an Az x reader where she knows they are mates but doesn’t tell him because she can’t have kids and she thinks he will reject it if he finds out. So she starts pulling away or gets upset or something and then the bond snaps for him and he is confused as to why she doesn’t want it.
She finally tells him and thinks he will reject her because of it but it goes from angst to fluff and he’s all cute and says she is all he wants and he doesn’t care. Happy ending
thank you so much lovely! I love your requests, I think they're perfect for Az
All I've Ever Needed
Azriel x Reader
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Leaned over the balcony, you swirled the champagne in your glass as the stars began to shoot across the sky, bathing Velaris in ethereal light. The quiet scuff of boots sounded next to you, a smile gracing your lips as you thought about the only person who would wear boots to Starfall.
Glancing up, you were met with hazel eyes, golden in this light as they focused on you. “You’re missing the show,” you nodded to the skyline in front of you.
“Am I?” Azriel murmured, so quiet you hardly heard him. Still, his gaze turned towards the sky, a comfortable silence wrapping around the pair of you like a warm blanket on this cold early Spring evening.
Azriel turned back towards you, inhaling deeply as he opened his mouth to speak when a rogue spirit soared towards him, glowing pale green light splattering throughout his onyx hair. Your laugh echoed loudly through the open night air, bringing a rare, broad smile to Azriel’s lips. His face lit up brighter than the stars that glowed like a halo around him, and the snap in your chest as the universe pulled you towards him was undeniable.
Breathless, you clutched your chest as emotions swirled within you. Mate, my mate, your heart chanted, as Azriel’s hand began to reach for yours. A high-pitched giggle sounded from below, interrupting the moment as little Nyx ran towards you.
“Uncle Azzy!” the toddler squealed in delight, laughter ringing through the air as Azriel lifted his nephew into his broad arms. “You have stars in your hair,” the small boy noted, chubby fingers reaching to tug on Azriel’s wavy tresses. 
Azriel shook his head, Nyx laughing as stardust sprinkled all around the both of them. “There, now you have stars too,” Az murmured, setting Nyx back down for the child to run into Feyre’s arms. 
“Happy Starfall,” she greeted you with a kiss to your cheek before turning to Azriel, a soft laugh leaving the High Lady as Nyx eagerly reached back for Azriel once more. “You are so good with him,” Feyre noted to Az, grinning at the shadowsinger’s blush from her compliment. “I can’t wait to see you with children of your own one day.”
The perfect bubble of this evening burst. Heart dropping, the skies of Velaris now a shattered snow globe as you registered Feyre’s words. Neither she or Azriel knew what you’d learned long ago from Madja, that you would never be able to bear children. 
And now, as you watched Azriel’s blush deepen, your mate smiling while he played with his nephew, you realized how cruel the Cauldron must be for your mate to be someone you could never satisfy. Setting down your flute of champagne, you excused yourself as you abandoned not only the party, but any chance you’d hoped for with Azriel.
Months passed as you ignored the shadowsinger, ignored the way your heart called to him, how much you missed his kindness and friendship. Being the understanding person that he was, Azriel didn’t push you, didn’t try to force you when he noticed you distancing yourself. It somehow hurt more, knowing that the person who understood you most was still there, giving you the space you needed despite how much you wanted to run into his arms. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, tell him how much you loved him, trap him by telling that you were his mate when you could never give him the children he evidently wanted.
Walking down the streets of the Rainbow, Mor pressured you about Azriel’s birthday. “I know you two aren’t as close, and I won’t push about it, but you are going to his birthday tonight aren’t you?” 
You sighed, running a hand over your face as you deliberated the question you’d been asking yourself for the past several weeks. “Of course I’ll go, Mor. We are still friends,” you promised, knowing that as much as you might dread this evening, missing Azriel’s birthday would cause too many issues among your family.
Mor left you alone, headed to meet Feyre at the art studio. You walked down the street, looking in the windows of art galleries and clothiers when something pulled you towards a small jewelry shop. You heart fluttered in your chest when you noticed the silver ring in the window, a small cobalt blue gem in the center. 
You opened the door without thinking, your feet guiding you to where the jewelry sat in its display. The shopkeeper approached you, her kind green eyes twinkling as she looked between you and the ring.
“That is a beautiful piece. I’ve seen several males pass by admiring it. And we can do same-day engraving,” she spoke, her velvet voice thinly veiling her eagerness to make the sale. 
As the idea came to you, you flashed her a smile. “I’ll take it.”
Hands shaking with nerves, you shyly maneuvered through the doorway to the River House, gift in hand as you made your way to the living room where your family was gathered. Mor approached you first, blonde hair flying as she ran towards you to wrap you in a hug. Handing you a drink, she looped her arm in yours, guiding you to the center of the room where you set the gift on the table.
Hazel eyes bored into you, Azriel staring unabashedly as he approached. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered, a lump in his throat as he looked over the gauzy lavender dress you donned. “You look beautiful.”
Blushing under his attention, you willed your heart to stop pounding against your chest as you spoke. “Of course. Happy birthday, Azriel,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning to greet the others.
Near the end of the evening, everyone was enjoying the beautiful cake Elain had prepared when Mor giddily clapped her hands. “Presents, now!” she demanded, shoving her own gift into Azriel’s hands. Azriel unwrapped the present, pink paper torn apart to reveal a pair of green, fuzzy earmuffs. “They’re to match the scarf I got you last Solstice!” Mor exclaimed, clearly proud of herself for such a thoughtful gift.
Azriel gave her a polite smile and a thank you, moving to unwrap the next gifts. From Cassian and Nesta, a new pair of boots, since apparently once of the Valkyries had thrown up on his other pair during training last week. From Feyre and Rhys, he was given a painting - a memory of the annual snowball fight from the last year, with Nyx included. 
“Who is this from?” Azriel asked, holding up the small box with blue paper and black ribbon. You shyly raised your hand, a nervous smile on your face as Azriel’s eyes softened. “Thank you,” he said, never breaking eye contact. 
“You haven’t even opened it yet,” you retorted with a giggle. Azriel’s eyes sparkled at your laughter, his hands deftly untying the ribbon as he carefully opened the box. He simply stared at it for a moment, silver lining his eyes as he held the box in his hands.
“I know you like to wear rings, and if you look at the side, I had it engraved for you,” you explained. Azriel carefully took the ring from the box, turning it over to see the outline of Ramiel, with Carynth shining above, and Azriel, Rhysand’s, and Cassian’s initials below.
Sliding the ring on his finger, Azriel looked to you, a look of shock crossing his features as he stumbled back, knocking his chair backwards in the process. You forgot to breathe for a moment, the only thought your brain able to process that Azriel now knew that you were mates. Standing up quickly, you uttered a goodbye as you ran out the front door in escape.
You made it halfway across the lawn when shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel towering over you as he appeared, anger swirling in his eyes. “You knew.” 
You didn’t say anything, just held your chin high as you willed the tears not to fall. Azriel didn’t let up though, taking another step towards you. “How long have you known that we are mates?”
Eyes shuttering, you took a deep breath. “Since Starfall,” you eked out in a broken whisper. 
Azriel’s face contorted in hurt and anger, his own voice shaky as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me? All of this time avoiding me, why wouldn’t you tell me that you didn’t want me?”
Something between a shocked laugh and a choking sound forced its way from your throat as you gaped at him. “Don’t want you? Azriel, all I want is you! It’s been agony trying to stay away, to keep the bond from snapping and trapping you with me. You deserve better, Az. You deserve more than I can give to you.”
Trying to step around him to walk away, Azriel swiftly slid into your path, the ring on his finger cool against your cheek as he guided your gaze to his. “How could you ever think that you wouldn’t deserve me? If anything, I don’t deserve you. You are kind, beautiful, thoughtful... You’re more than I could have dreamed of.”
You allowed yourself to lean into his touch for only a moment before you softly pulled his hand away from your face. You drew his hand up, clutching it in your own, savoring the warmth of his touch. “Azriel, I can’t have children. Madja told me years ago, it’s just not possible for me. And seeing you on Starfall with Nyx, you were so happy. And I cannot give you that. I cannot give you everything you want, can’t give you a family.”
Azriel’s hand wrapped around yours, pulling you into him, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Holding your chin between his fingers, he tilted your gaze to him. “You are my family. You are everything I could ever want, and more.” His lips brushed yours, the feeling of his smile against your own sending a burst of joy through you as you leaned up to kiss your mate.
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aresthelostboy · 1 year ago
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Yautja X Male!Scientist!Reader
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[I’m using Wolf as the Yautja and this doesn’t follow the story in any way. If any facts are wrong, ignore it because I last watched the predator films at least three years ago. Can be read as GN!Reader.]
Summary: When the group of Yautja boarded your crews ship amongst the many stars of Galactica Primara, it was intended as a visit of a coming assistance. Gathered in the mess hall, partially converted for your human captain to present to the Yautja, he speaks of testing new subjects. They’re interested, so you get a visit, though you aren’t too worried. That is, until you realise just how attracted to one in particular you are…
You sigh, eyes closing for a moment as bitter disappointment sighs on you. The movements on the slide to the microscopes had slowly stopped and you find yourself reaching for the tape recorder once more. The rubber gloves squeaking against its plastic, you speak close to the microphone, an edge to your voice that follows a wasted sample.
“Test subject B57: Failed. Presumable death over the temperature and humidity. Resuming tests at 0800 hours on Friday 13, April, 2029. This is (y/n) signing out.”
You place the recorder down and, grabbing each edge of the gloves, you strip them from your skin and place them in the nearly overflowing bin beside you. Taking a few minutes to discard of the sample and disinfect everything, you look at your work station, slightly less annoyed now that it’s clean and tidy.
A loud beep sounds out, making you jump for a moment before you realise that it’s your personal communication cell that’s alerting you to an incoming message. Soon enough, the face of your second in command appears, as stern as ever. A grin tugs at your face, always tempted to rile up the easily angered man. It’s just too funny. Yet, today, he seems in brighter spirits so you wait to hear what he has to tell you.
“Ah Dr. (L/n)… finally. The message to the Yautja tribe was successful and their ship is inbound, ETA 3 minutes.”
You can’t help the genuine smile that pulls at your lips, knowing that it was a long-awaited meeting that had every higher up in floods of excitement.
“Congrats. If you need anything, you know I’ll be here. I’d rather stay out of the way and let you all deal with this,”
You gesture vaguely.
“and I’ll start a few other tests. B57 was a failure so I’ll be moving to C14 and going back to B tomorrow.”
All he does is nod before someone seems to shout him, his head snapping in the other direction before giving you a quick nod. Before you know it, the comms have been severed and you are left alone once more. Shrugging, it’s soon realised that the alien tribe must have arrived and you understand that they’re much more important than a time-wasting conversation.
Removing another pair of gloves from the packet, you put them on and ready up a new sample of an unknown organism, readying your scalpels and tweezers in order to soon pick apart the cell matter and individually study it. Placing the microphone of your recorder up to your mouth, you press at the button on the side. “Subject C14 test begins. Friday 12, April 2029. Time is currently 5:46pm.”
You don’t know how long has passed, only that the number of unseen messages from your commander on your comms has grown over the time. Only once the new source of matter has failed, as you had expected, you find yourself looking through the ignored remarks.
‘They want to look through your lab, is that alright?’ 5:59pm
‘Hello?’ 6:12pm
‘Y/n, they’re curious about the tests you do. Please?’ 6:17pm
Wincing while you read them, you deftly remove your gloves and shoot a response back hoping that, over the course of 39 minutes, you hadn’t majorly screwed up.
‘Should’ve called, was busy with tests. You can come by now if you’d like?’
Deciding to wait for the response, you don’t receive one, even after you’ve seen that he had read it. Once this is noticed, your heart rate increases, realising that speaking to your superior in such a way may not be the smartest idea. That is, until, there’s a knock at your door.
(A steel door that was only provided after you threw a fit about having dangerous subjects in an easily contaminated space. The crew didn’t care about the tests or the safety, they just wanted you to leave them alone so you finally got what you wanted.)
After checking yourself over, smoothing down your lab coat and making sure your hair wasn’t askew, your hand finds the automated doorway and it opens.
For all of your mind, the wish that you could’ve hid your reaction is high. Seeing a Yautja in a dark grey mask shouldn’t affect you in such a way, and you definitely shouldn’t be thinking what you are… The way your eyes widen slightly, not from fear but from curiosity and the way your breath catches in your throat, something they could definitely hear… it makes you flush slightly. Taking a breath, you look at your commander, nodding slightly before turning to the Yautja. Dark grey mask watches you with a tilted head and once it notices your gaze on it, his head snaps to look in the other direction.
Never had you believed an alien race to show such a predominantly human trait as embarrassment. It’s almost�� cute? Shaking your head, you rid yourself of the thoughts and focus on the three in front of you.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I assume you have translators?”
The largest one nods, it’s mask a light, titanium coloured grey and you smile slightly, hovering in the doorway. There’s one beside him, looking away and down, his posture slanted as if not wanting to be notice, this one’s mask is a darker grey. The others mask is black. These men… these creatures, surely they know basic rules of a lab. You sigh, shaking your head and addressing each one in turn.
“Please, don’t touch anything. And if your curious, ask. I’m Y/n, by the way.”
Flashing a smile at the unknown aliens seems out of place but you do so anyway, stepping back and allowing them into your space. One of them stops at the doorway, a darker grey mask on, watching you with great interest. A few clicks and trills catch your attention but, as the others don’t react, you don’t either. You watch back, curious as to who will break the eye contact first. He - would it be right to call it a he? - tilts his head slightly before stepping into the lab, following the others. It takes you a moment to notice your commander left but, oddly enough, you felt safe with the Yautja group. A few sharp clicks grab your attention and you turn to the light grey masked one, wondering about it’s attention grabbing sounds.
“This?”
A raspy and distorted voice comes from the mask, the creature pointing at one of your experiments. You can’t help the appreciation that paints your face as you step over, closer than most humans would feel comfortable, and begin explaining the intricacies. Throughout your speech, you feel eyes on you and, as you are seeing two of them looking at your experiments, there’s only one left to be doing so. Without breaking sentence, you turn to look at him and grin as you see him whip his head away in a tense, feigned interest in a sheet of paper… a blank sheet of paper. A slight laugh escapes you, only for him to look back, shoulders visibly dropping into relaxation. A quick smile is flashed his way and, believing you could trust the Yautja, you turn your back to continue your explanation.
You’d barely finished explaining what each component did, the two Yautja painfully invested in your words, when a quiet screech echoes through the metal room. The three of you turn to the last of their group, a hand in front of their greyed mask and a light green blood like substance sliding from their finger. Your frown, walking over quickly and finding he had touched one of the alien blades you had been studying earlier. “Are you alright?”
You can’t disguise the concern in your voice as you walk over, hesitating to touch him. Though, when he doesn’t pull away, you gently take his hand and inspect the wound. Hearing a few clicks and trills no longer bothers you, understanding it’s the same as humans humming or making basic noise. You look up at him, noticing that he hadn’t followed your one rule and has touched something. Shaking your head, the Yautja stills, watching you with interest.
“Silly Yautja.”
Though the words are said with amusement, there’s an underlying tone of worry and care. It makes the yautjas stare and stand as if petrified by Medusa herself. You continue to mutter to yourself, finding a bandage and wrapping up the bleeding cut. He tilts his head as you do so and when your ministration have been completed, he flexes his hand, only to look at you with a deep interest.
“Wolf.”
The deep growl comes from the one in front of you and you can easily tell what he had said. Though in the context it confused you.
“Sorry?”
It gestures to itself, repeating the word. After a moment you nod, smiling softly.
“Wolf? That’s your name?”
He nods, hesitating for a mere moment before tapping his bandage then on your chest, where your heart should be. It was easy enough to guess what he had meant, knowing that the courtesy of thanks had been passed throughout the galaxy. Smiling at him, you nod, tapping your own chest then his in turn. This seems to make him rumble quietly, an appreciative sound that vibrates through your bones as you touch his skin gently.
A quiet hum comes from behind and you jump, realising that you had enacted such an intimate (to their species, at least) moment in front of his clan mates. A light flush takes over your face as you pull away but Wolf lightly places his hands over yours, keeping you skin to skin with him. You bow your head slightly, aware that in may alien species, it was a sign of respect. It seems to be accurate as he gives another quiet rumble.
You find yourself wanting to hear that more and you stop yourself in your tracks. How could you fall for an alien race? It just wasn’t normal and shouldn’t happen… but he is cute. And you just know that behind the mask, he’ll still be better than the humans on this ship.
“Y/n.”
At the direct address, your head snaps up and you pull away from Wolf, much to the Yautjas displeasure. Your captain stands in the doorway, a slightly confused expression present yet he seems to shrug it off quickly.
“Whatever. The others say it’s time to leave and they are gathering in the common. So say goodbye to your… acquaintances.”
He watches you for a moment more and walks off, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. Turning away, you look back to the three Yautja and smile.
“I’ll walk you back?”
All eyes are on Wolf as he nods and clicks quietly, head tilted. The other two lead ahead and you walk with him, watching as he barely makes a sound, the hunter genes shining through. It interests you and, as your gaze becomes more focused, his body becomes more tense.
“You’re beautiful.”
You speak as if reading off facts from a list, stating it in such an obvious way that his mind stutterers for a second, causing his head to snap to your gaze in such a way that you don’t need to see him to wonder what he’s thinking.
“I mean, I love your mask and I can’t help but wonder what’s behind it. I bet you look cool. And your skin is gorgeous, like a snake, not to mention these claws!”
Your hand is in his, bringing them both up so you can trace a gentle finger across each of his sharp talons. He doesn’t pull away, relishing in the contact of such soft, warm skin and in such an innocently romantic way. Your eyes meet the ones of his mask and they shine, a bright smile filling your face.
“I hope we can communicate soon. Perhaps you all wish to come back and look around some more?”
The two of you are stood in the lobby, the other Yautja waiting by the ships entrance for him with a few warning growls and clicks following. Wolf nods, tapping his heart with his free hand and then tapping over yours. Though you don’t speak in such a language, you understand the meaning well enough, given the context. As you,let go of him, a sad smile paints your face.
“I hope you all return safely. We will welcome you back soon. Goodbye.”
The doors shut and you hold onto the fact he looked at you till the very last moment, you hold it with all your heart.
When you get back to your lab, you begin to tidy away the papers and left over rubbish that you had forgotten to put away only for something to catch your eye. Something that hadn’t been there before. Something as a… gift?
A pristine, off-white skull of a seemingly alien creature had been positioned carefully on the side of your desk and you find yourself smiling as you realise that was where Wolf had been stood. Though you had never been in contact with the race before, the message of such a gift was clear enough and you find yourself awaiting the next visit.
As for the skull, you place it on your emptied ledge over your desk. After all, there had to be plenty of space for the rest of the courting gifts, right?
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