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starmocha · 4 months ago

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sylus, zayne and caleb: who asks mc for nudes the most?

especially when she's away on training? or on a mission?

who's needier? (personal opinion is zayne would behave but then he'd break and i mean *break* and request the filthiest pics/videos. but then again caleb is a puppy. sylus has self control but as his heatwave secret time showed us, he can be very very veeeeery needy)

do you think they keep all the pics/vídeos or delete them with a heavy heart out of fear of their phones getting stolen and exposing mc to some lowlife unworthy of even mentioning her name?

what about pics/vídeos during sex? we already know sylus and mc are making their little vídeos, but I think sylus also has a polaroid collection of mc under him, on top, on all fours--he gets addicted to the way she looks while he's inside her

caleb would totally be into recording too

zayne's trickier, I think

mc would probably have to initiative the pic taking event lmao it'd have to be when things are innocent enough and she's saying she just wants some cute pics of him

she riles him up so much that he snaps a pic at the exact moment she's got his entire lenght in her mouth and is looking up at him and he says he wants some cute pics too

but I don't know, would love to hear your opinion if you're not to busy

sincerely,

an anon who's in the middle of a very stupid work conference and is very bored ☺️

😭 oh this was a good one to think about. …I don’t know why I wrote it like this, but let’s just roll with it lol

Personally, I don’t think any of them will ask directly for nudes. They’re all gentlemen. Of course, they wouldn’t be opposed if they’re offered some instead.

Video Call

Sylus is so tech-savvy, we’re not discussing that enough. He would for sure have a secret encrypted folder full of sexy photos and videos for his own personal viewing pleasure. His collection consists of all the ways he would take her and capturing her face at the exact moment she has an orgasm. After all, he doesn’t think it’s fair that only he sees it. He wants her to also see what she looks like as she comes around him. OK, my mind wandered a little too much this afternoon…this has nothing to do with what I had written above, but…squint and maybe it does…

Thinking of Sylus away on some hush-hush “business” trip. It’s been hard getting in contact with him. Perhaps there are no signals where he’s at.

The one evening she decides to break out her favorite “toy”, she gets a call from Crow Man himself, but it’s not just any call. He wants to video chat. Embarrassed, she quickly puts on a robe and tries to act normal as she answers his call.

He raises a brow, both confused and amused by what he is seeing. “Why is your face so red?”

She lies and says she had just finished doing some cardio exercises.

He calls her out on her bullshit. At that moment, they hear a faint buzzing noise in the background.

Shit. She forgot to turn the toy off before answering the call. With him watching knowingly, she has no choice but to confess.

“Really? A toy will get you off better than me?” He’s skeptical that she can be fully satisfied by a toy.

Indignant, she tells him that she already had two orgasms before he called.

Amused and intrigued, he challenges her to test it out in front of him. He would love to be proven wrong.

She’s caught off guard by his comment. Even more embarrassed, she asks meekly, “A-are you asking me to…in front of you?”

He nods and crosses his arms. “Unless you don’t think you can—”

“Fine!” She knows he is riling her up on purpose, but the mere idea of having him watch her is oddly arousing.

After finding a way to position the phone so he can see her perfectly, she disrobes and picks up the toy again. Sylus wouldn’t exactly say he is an expert on the different models of toys available, so he watches with intrigue as she positions the small toy, and the moment she feels it pulsing against her, she gasps, still sensitive from her previous climaxes.

Sylus draws in his own breath, silently cursing that he’s not in the same room with her right now. He watches in amazement as she shows off the different settings. Quick short bursts. Long, dragged out pulsing.

But her favorite? It’s the one that vibrates steadily and every few seconds, it sends a powerful pulse that has her arching, crying out. She maximizes the strength, and Sylus is getting hard at hearing how powerful the toy is, watching with darkened eyes as she loses herself, forgetting him and is entirely focused on chasing her next climax. With the way her clit is stimulated so heavenly, she isn’t even aware that Sylus had started his own fun, his hand wrapped around his large length as he strokes himself to the same pacing as her. It isn’t long before she comes again, the way she moans is enough to have Sylus spilling into his hand, panting along with her.

“Well,” he laughs, looking at the evidence in his hand, “You’ve certainly proven me wrong, sweetie.”

A few days later, she receives a mysterious package, giftwrapped in black. Upon opening it, she discovers several different new toys, a giant bottle of lube, and a bright red lacy teddy. There is a note: Play date this Friday?

Text Messages

Going feral at the idea of sweet, well-mannered Zayne being the filthiest. It’s always the innocent ones… Perhaps, she had a role in bringing out this side of him. After all, we know Zayne won’t do anything unless he has permission.

Zayne wouldn’t even think of initiating something like this.

But she would.

After hearing a co-worker share her experience with her boyfriend, she is now intrigued about trying something like this out with Zayne.

With him away on a business trip, she sends daily casual text messages to keep in touch.

Have you arrived safely yet?

What’s your hotel like?

Have you eaten yet?

I miss you.

Sleep early!

Are you tired? Don’t forget to rest!

It’s all so innocent and mundane, Zayne suspects nothing.

Then comes that message. It’s a video attachment. He clicks it and nearly drops his phone.

On the screen is his beautiful girlfriend, completely nude and her legs spread apart for the camera.

There’s a caption on the video:

Have a special treat waiting for you when you come home.

She squirts some cold whipped cream between her legs before dragging a dollop onto her finger and sucking it clean. She asks him sweetly, “Zaynie, you will help me finish this right?”

He can’t think straight, but he feels like he needs to catch the next flight back to Linkon now.

His phone starts pinging nonstop.

There are more risqué photos and videos. He’s losing his mind at seeing her posed in such provocative positions with so many different sexy expressions.

As he’s scrolling down this treasure trove of pictures and video clips, he gets another message:

I miss you, Zaynie. I can’t wait to have you inside me again. <3

*With me again. Darn that autocorrect ;)

Polaroids

Virgin Caleb is going to want to experiment with everything, including taking pictures and recording videos. I mean, he’d be cool with everything. It gets lonely in Skyhaven, so having some photos around the house would make coming home more…exciting. He would also keep that one special polaroid in his wallet.

Can’t stop thinking of Caleb and her finding an old polaroid camera and bringing it home one afternoon. They take some silly photos and experiment with it around her apartment. When they start play fighting, he accidentally pins her down, her shirt riding up to expose her chest and the camera snaps.

She’s not wearing a bra.

He’s straddling her.

The photo prints out.

As seconds tick by, the photo develops completely and it’s a perfect shot of her torso. Her shirt is pushed up, her beautiful breasts the main focus. Caleb swallows, his eyes darting from the polaroid to her pink nipples, knowing he should get off of her, but...he needs to get off now.

“Um…”

She teases him. “Are you hard already?”

He flusters and tries to glare at her, but it’s so hard to be mad when she looks so cute underneath him like that. Instead, he smirks and holds the camera up again.

“We’ve bought so many films,” he says mischievously, “we should put them to good use.”

She takes the first photo from him and presses her lips to it, her bright red lipstick staining the polaroid. He is even more turned on now. She waves it playfully at him, saying, “A gift for the colonel.”

Fuck.

They’re gonna have so much fun with the camera. He plans on taking enough to keep him entertained the next time he does patrol through the Deepspace Tunnel.

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miamooooo · 7 months ago

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sorta timid reader x sadistic josh who gets off on the thought of scaring you shitless. josh thinks you're adorable, but seeing you scared and vulnerable did something to him that he couldn't quite put into words. one day, he asked if you'd play into his little kink, and though you laughed nervously, unsure if he was being serious, josh had a way of making you want to say yes even if you didn't entirely know what you were getting yourself into. on your trip back to the blackwood mountain lodge before a party, he goes all out, savoring the chance to see you at your most vulnerable. you don't get why it excited him so much, but with josh, you'd quickly start to understand.

warnings: lowercase intended, the reader has female anatomy, nsfw, slightly naive reader, physical aggression, dubcon, fear play, manipulative josh, he's a bit creepy, power imbalance, psychological games, cunnilingus, hella clit stimulation, a bit disturbing, please don't read if any of this is triggering! (slightly proofread, so i'm apologizing in advance for any mistakes <3)

josh had asked you to arrive at the lodge before anyone else. you didn't think much of it at first; it wasn't unusual for him to want some one-on-one time before the party began. he loved having you to himself, away from the noise and drama of your friends. still, there was something about the way he'd asked — too eager, almost like he had something planned. but it was josh, after all, and he adored you! there was nothing to worry about.

the evening had settled in with a cold chill, the sky darkening as you made your way down the snow-covered path toward the huge lodge. as you got closer, you noticed that something was off. josh wasn't standing there, waiting to greet you like he usually did. it was weird. no lights flickered from the windows, no sound but the cold night wind and your shoes shuffling in the snow. you hesitated walking up the wooden stairs for a moment, unease settling in your chest, but you brushed it off — josh was probably just inside waiting for you.

the door was unlocked, which was odd. he had always locked it to keep strangers out, especially when the lodge was empty. as you pushed the door open, the silence of the mansion swallowed you whole, darkness enveloping you completely as you closed yourself in. something felt wrong. usually, there'd be a candle lit or a light left on for you. josh had always knew how much you hated the dark. your unease deepened, but it wasn't until you stepped further inside the quiet lodge, that a realization began to suddenly click for you.

josh was setting you up for something. the strange eagerness in his voice earlier, the silence, the way everything was just too perfectly unsettling — it was all intentional. your pulse quickened at the very predicament you found yourself in, anxiety sitting in the pit of your stomach. whatever he had planned, you were walking right into it.

you grabbed your phone in your jacket pocket, fingers slightly shaking as you sent josh a quick text.

you: "hey, where are you? everything okay..?"

the message sat there unanswered, the silence only fueling your anxiety. your heart raced, deciding to call him, but the phone only rang with no answer still.

you knew josh wanted you to play further into his game, not just stand there. with a shaky sigh, you slowly made your way through the living room, your footsteps creaking and echoing through the silent house. first you checked the dining room, and then the kitchen, before you made your way to the grand staircase that lead to the second floor.

"josh..?" you called out, your voice small and shaky as you take one step up the stairs, freezing completely in your tracks when you hear a faint creak come from somewhere above you.

you were so caught up in your own anxiety and spiraling thoughts that it took a moment for you to notice the figure standing motionless at the top of the stairs.

"josh..? is that you?" you question directly to the figure, hesitantly taking another step up the stairs.

the figure didn't say a word or move. instead they only tilted their head, the motion slow and deliberate as the moonlight reveals a scary and deranged looking mask on the perpetrator.

your stomach twisted, fear washing over your face as you stepped back down the stairs. there was a hint of reassurance from keeping you from bolting back out the door. you knew it was josh — of course it was josh — but there was something unsettlingly convincing about how he stood there, his breathing heavy and his stance deliberate. the reasonable part of your brain that knew it was a game tried to reassure you, but your instincts screamed otherwise.

the sound of his heavy boots slowly making their way down the wooden stairs echoed in your ears, each step worsening your terror despite your awareness. you turned, bolting straight toward the front door, your heart hammering in your chest.

behind you, the footsteps quickened, starting to match the same urgency as your own. you fumbled for the handle, your hands trembling as panic clouded your movements. just as your fingers brushed the cold metal handle, strong hands grabbed your arm, yanking you back and pushing you against the nearest wall, hard enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

"j-josh! ...stop it!" you cried out, but there was a crack in your voice that betrayed more than just fear. you hated the way your body responded to his closeness in this situation, the way he pinned you against the wall, his movements so calculated and firm that it sent a rush of heat to your face. you didn't want to feel this way, especially in a moment like this, but your actions spoke for themselves.

josh didn't release you right away, reluctantly loosening his grip on your arms. he suddenly let go, letting out an amused laugh. "gotcha," he drawled, his voice way too calm for the situation that happened.

"josh," you breathed, a hint of frustration and lingering fear still in your voice as you watched him pull the mask off. his smirking face made your stomach flip. that self-confident, knowing expression.... you absolutely hated it. but you hated how it made you feel even more.

though you were relieved to see josh's face, and not that stupid creepy mask, anger quickly followed, mixing with embarrassment. gritting your teeth, you shoved josh hard against his chest, your hands still trembling as adrenaline rushed through you.

"a warning would've been nice," you start to angrily scold him, your voice still shaky with residual fear that josh couldn't even take you serious. he thought you were adorable like this.

"oh, come on, babe!" he insisted with a laugh. "you should've seen the look on your face. it was priceless."

"yeah..! because you scared the shit out of me," you exasperated, shoving him in the chest again.

"wasn't that the point, sweetheart?"

you furrow your brows, watching the way josh smirks down at you, his confidence only fueling the questionable attraction you were feeling in such a fucked up situation — maybe it was something about the way he was looking at you, maybe it was the way he was carrying himself; like he just simply knew he had more power over you in that moment.

"you're such a jerk," you muttered, averting your gaze from his amused one.

"maybe," josh shrugs, tilting his head with that same charming smile on his face. "but i bet you liked it, didn't you?"

you glared up at him, showing your frustration even as your face burned in embarrassment. his confidence was infuriating to you, but the worst part was how right he actually was.

"admit it," he urged, leaning closer to you, running his thumb over your bottom lip. "a part of you enjoyed what just happened."

before you could protest, josh leaned in to press a sloppy kiss against your lips. he grabs your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head against the wall, wasting no time in sliding his tongue into your mouth. josh took note of the way you reciprocated the kiss, your tongue clashing against his own and he cant help the smile that spread on his face.

josh's lips moved against yours with confidence, and as the kiss deepened, his hips subtly rolled forward, pressing into yours, a low and satisfied groan rumbling in his throat. the hard bulge in his pants didn't go unnoticed by you — it was impossible to ignore. he wasn't just showing you how much he wanted you, he was savoring every second of it; purposely pressing his body against yours to show how much you were affecting him.

the kiss was everything all at once: messy, overwhelming — just entirely too much. you whimpered into his mouth, body arching into his as if begging for more. you hated how easily your body responded to him... but you wanted so much more.

he pulled back, just enough to let his lips softly brush against your lips. "see? told you a part of you liked it," he teased, his voice low.

"josh..." you breathed out his name in warning, chest heaving from the messy kiss you two previously shared. he ignored your breathy warning, his lips trailing down your jawline and neck, giving light and teasing kisses that made you bite your lip in anticipation.

"relax," he dismissively murmured at your tone of voice, his hands loosening their grip on your wrists, and sliding down to grab at your hips. "let me make it up to you... for scaring you so bad."

before you could say anything, josh got on his knees in front of you in one swift motion, his hands gliding from your hips down to grip your thighs as he looked up at you, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "just relax, and let me take care of you."

you weakly nodded at josh's words, your body pressing back against the wall for support as his fingers toyed with the button of your jeans.

josh wasted no time in getting started. his fingers eagerly unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down your legs enough to reveal your underwear before he's leaning forward, pressing his nose right against your clothed pussy and taking a deep, perverted sniff.

you gasped softly at the way his nose bumped against your clit, a soft whimper of his name escaping your lips that made him hum approvingly.

"you smell so good," he murmured, a comment that seemed to be more directed to himself. his hands moved to the waistband of your underwear, his fingers hooking into them, before he's peeling them down your legs as well... and to his surprise, your lips were already glistening enough for him to notice in the dim lodge. maybe you weren't being as honest as you let on... josh didn't comment, only hungrily licking his lips at the sight, the only thing on his mind was devouring you.

josh eagerly buried his face between your thighs, groaning as his hands spreads your legs a little wider apart to accommodate his shoulders. his tongue slid right between your puffy folds, instantly flicking the warm muscle against your throbbing clit so good that it had you immediately crying out his name.

"mmh, josh..!" you moaned out, your head falling back against the wall as you pulled on his fluffy hair. josh groaned in response, his eyes closing in satisfaction as he started to circle his tongue around the sensitive bud repeatedly, enjoying every gasp and moan that he elicited from you.

you couldn't help the way your hips instinctively started rutting against his face once he took your clit into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him impossibly closer between your thighs as he enthusiastically sucked on it. josh's hands reached around to grip at your ass, holding you in place as he devoured your pussy. the sounds of your desperate moans and the sloppy noises of his face fucking you filled the room.

you could feel your orgasm building, the pressure building tightly in your stomach as josh continued to suck and lick, relishing your taste as he felt you near your orgasm. "fuck, i.. i'm gonna cum.." you loudly choked out, nails digging into his scalp as a silent warning.

"yeah..?" josh replied knowingly, his voice muffled against your soaking cunt. he starts to double his efforts at your announcement, determined to make you come undone against his mouth. his tongue moved faster, harder, alternating between long, teasing licks and focused flicks over your sensitive nub.

the stimulation was too much for you, it felt so good that seconds later you were crying out, your orgasm hitting you hard as strained whimpers and moans fell from your lips.

your legs violently trembled as you came on josh's tongue, back arching off the wall, your mind clouded with pure bliss. josh moaned approvingly as you convulsed and grinded against his face, his tongue continuing to lap up your cum, but slower this time, dragging out your orgasm until you became overly sensitive.

even as you whined and shook, josh didn't stop, he continued to hold you firmly in place, hands gripping your ass more painfully now as he gently licked your pussy. "josh..!" you breathed, voice shaky, "i cant- too much..!"

finally, he relented, listening to your plea. he lifted his head slightly, his wet lips softly brushing against your inner thigh before he presses a firm kiss there. he studied your exhausted state for a moment, taking you in adoringly, a smile forming on his face as his fingers lazily caressed your skin.

"guess i'll have to scare you more often, if it'll always end like this." he teased, his voice low and playful.

"next time," you murmured, your voice breathless and tired, "tell me first."

josh lets out a soft chuckle, his touch feeling almost too tender for everything that had just happened. "well, where's the fun in that?" he replied, the glint in his eyes making it clear that he was already planning his next move. and for reasons you couldn't explain, you didn't feel like you'd mind at all.

#until dawn #until dawn remake #until dawn josh #josh washington #josh washington smut #until dawn smut #josh washington x reader #until dawn x reader #rami malek x reader #joshua washington #fear play

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sl4sh3rsub · 2 years ago

Text

rz michael myers hcs (nsfw: mdni)

rz michael myers x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a lot here. mikey has a monster cock, insecure + inexperienced michael, he doesn't talk but makes noise + mouths words + grunts syllables sometimes (selectively mute ig?), oral sex (both giving and receiving), excessive creampies, fingering (receiving), no lube we die like men his dick n spit does it for him, masturbation, rimming (both giving and receiving), knife kink, excessive mentions of precum + spit + cum, creative use of cum/arousal fluids in arts projects, musk kink, choking (receiving), mentions of sex toys, thigh humping, mention of canon SA and violence (nothing w/ or directly involving reader), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), cum eating, slight somnophilia, bruises and hickeys, cockwarming, slight worship (receiving), dry humping, handjobs, 2 mentions of him having a mini shrine to you, mentions of needle hrt in ftm + mtf bits (feel free to ignore), mentions of the institute/asylum

a/n: sorta edited. tried not to be too ooc, but it's more focused on a softer side of michael - personally i think his character is very different to og/peepaw myers! rz mikey is more based in instinct rather than previous experiences/societal expectations, so there's more general hcs than separate sections this time. NOTE: feel free to read any sections, tried my best to not use gendered terms in agab sections but lmk how i can improve :3

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

as michael is very inexperienced with kissing, he'll smash his lips against yours and become a huffing mess after he gets worked up from your breath mingling with his and your darkening gazes meeting

if you play with his hair and gaze into his eyes, he can't help it if he gets half-hard - his body will always needily react to your attention and affection

he's most at home in grey sweatpants - he's very used to wearing them while making his masks and associates them with comfort and the years of creatively honing his craft

so naturally, don't be surprised when his already impressive girth pulses and thickens at the sight of you bending over or reaching something off a high shelf

mikey will absolutely make you your own special mask!! although, the glue he uses for your personal paper mâché mix is a bit more,, personal. he'll also use your arousal to paint the inner layer of his favourite mask :( he simply needs to have some semblance of you with him at all times, especially whenever he's out on the town and away from your embrace

he's borderline hypersexual and gets half-hard and extremely sensitive without reason, however he doesn't always feel the need to act on his urges with you. expect him hiding his arousal during mundane activities, getting flushed and shy when he realises that you notice :<

if he's comfortable on the couch, he'll make himself at home with a horrendous manspread. naturally, this leads to him getting flustered whenever you kneel in between his legs with a mischievous glint in your eye. if you ask him sweetly, he'll be more than happy to sit you in between his strong thighs and let you hump into his hand while you both watch a movie

if he's not feeling like he wants to be inside you, he'll lie on his back with his knees up, pulling you to straddle his waist and lean back against his thighs. from this angle, he's able to watch you play with yourself and masturbate above him while feeling your weight grounding him, just out of reach but almost close enough to taste

he loves taking you from behind and kissing the base of your neck, your breathless giggles echoing in his ears as his long hair tickles your shoulders and back

michael loves having you cockwarm him while he makes his masks!! he adores it when you doze off with your cheek smushed into his shoulder during a late night arts-and-crafts session, the slow pulse of his heartbeat deep inside you

he's so, so incredibly thankful for you, that he's able to unleash his frustrations into you, whether it be about a ripped mask or just about pentup emotions. he's eternally thankful for your love and under the table support

you are mikey's angel, his true saving grace. after his long bout at the institute, he was fully convinced that being loved by anyone was impossible for him. your welcoming arms and gentle praise proved him wrong and completely changed his image of heaven - to michael, it's no longer a cloudy sky mentioned in those old books, it's your warm embrace and loving gaze. it just took him a little while to realise that he was in his own little paradise with you

he tries his hardest to treat you with absolute reverence and adoration T-T he's devoted to making you feel good with him, no matter what. usually, this means holding back from skullfucking you at a brutal pace whenever you give him head. your throat is just so tight around him :( it's got him steadying himself against a wall with his hand, shaking and sweating from holding back, with his gorgeous, garbled moans encouraging you to swallow the saltiness of his length

mikey's wandering hands always end up on your ass or tummy whenever you cuddle together, it's just comforting for him

he's one of the strongest, largest men to ever walk the earth, but the way he gently traces your facial features makes you forget that completely. michael handles you like you're made of porcelain, only using soft pressure unless you assure him he won't break you easily

he has a big, strong and beefy body. lord knows how he maintained it in the institute but with you, he's gonna try his damnedest to put all of his strength to good use - whether it be getting you off while fingering you, his toned forearms barely breaking a sweat or his tree trunk thighs tensing while you ride them

mikey is not trimmed or well-groomed downstairs, his pubes are a wild and unkempt cloud of blonde and light grey hair, so you know he's not caring about how you look at all. you're a fuckin deity in his eyes and he'll dispose of anyone who makes you feel anything other than heavenly

michael is uncut, big and thick, with a large vein running up the underside - so heavy and large that it can't even stand up against his belly, instead slightly bobbing with his pulse and hanging low. it's the type you see in lewd magazines, where it tilts down even when fully hard

when you're on your knees for him, expect his weepy cockhead to drip onto your face while you kiss and nip at his heavy, full balls

oh yeah, this man has the definition of breeder balls; hanging low, swollen and filled to the brim with his potent cum. he truly has so much to give, so you'd better be ready for multiple loads throughout the night

in contrast to michael's hard cock, his nipples are soft and incredibly sensitive. if he's trying to cum as fast as possible, he'll sneak a hand up his shirt and pinch at them relentlessly - make sure they're puffy and spit-glazed after you've been ontop, he goes absolutely feral would really appreciate it

mikey has massive hands too - his fingers are enough to fill you considerably, but he often resorts to stuffing your mouth with them or using his palm to muffle your noises if you're being vocal. he definitely doesn't want the cops called on you just because he's great at pleasuring you

his cock feels heavy inside you, almost like he's deep in your chest whenever he bottoms out. the weight is absolutely dizzying as it stretches you out each thrust and rubs all of the right places. he easily gets drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, leading to his head being tossed back with drool dribbling down his chin at the sensation

he has the biggest size kink possible but he really doesn't want to get carried away when exerting his strength and size on you - he doesn't want to get carried away or hurt you too badly :(

michael uses whatever knife he can get his hands on during foreplay to add a bit of risk and edge. cutting off your underwear and shirt, tracing down thighs and hips and gently nicking your skin every once in a while, but he quickly tosses it if you beg him to fuck you desperately enough - he doesn't wanna hurt you that bad, not before he's even gotten started

mikey is incredibly insecure about himself and his own worth as a person. he fears your love is only temporary and that you'll move on, leaving him behind as a memory or an adrenaline rush of foolish regret :( for that reason, he's terrified to go too hard or hurt you badly - he's convinced you'll be in pain and be fearful of him if he fucks up. be sure to reassure him when you're together after you have a rougher time and he's manhandling you more <3

initially when he learnt about dry humping, he was confused as to why he craved the friction so desperately but he's learnt to give in - michael will almost immediately cum in his pants if you quietly reassure him you'll clean up the mess you're both bound to leave on his clothes. half the fun (in his eyes, at least) is seeing you get flustered over the sheer amount of his load that's seeping into his boxers from just that little bit of friction

his favourite place to have you is on his lap - cockwarming, cuddling or napping, he does not care. he needs to have your face pressed into his neck with his larger frame providing you with warmth and stability

will rarely fist his cock but if you ever catch him, you might be able to make out his lips repeating the shape of your name over and over

for a long while at the start of your.. arrangement, he had no idea how to initiate sex. he'd just hover close to you, desperately hoping you'd notice the heat radiating from his massive, obvious bulge. would start to bite the inside of his cheek and guide your body towards him in a desperate hint if you didn't clock it immediately

he also did not know shit about the human anatomy, so he'll need you to guide him to where you want to be touched and with a bit of coaching, he'll learn the correct pressure and pace to get you off easily

if you tease him while he's in his overalls, the sight of his lower region slowly darkening with his endless pre and the sound of his haggard breathing devolving into animalistic grunts is nearly enough to make your knees give out

michael isn't a massive fan of fucking you on your bed, especially if your room is in a similar layout to his back at the institute. haunting memories brought on by the guards cast negative clouds across his mind and that is the last thing he wants with you. he'd much prefer to go at it against a wall, the couch or even the floor. most of the time, around his desk is where the action happens and your bed is solely reserved for sleep <3

he loves smearing his precum all over your face, loves letting his musk seep into your skin while your eyes glaze over with lust

he cups your chin, cheek and jaw whenever you have his full attention and his heart melts when you nuzzle into him - his thumb plays with your bottom lip and if you decide to suck on it to keep your mouth occupied, so expect to have mikey silently begging you to cockwarm him while his brain goes fuzzy

while you relax for the evening, watching a movie together, expect him to position you with your head on his thigh (your face way to close to his crotch ofc)

michael loves you sucking on his soft cock and warming him with your mouth, he adores the slow feeling of him growing hard as you moan and gag around his length

when you introduce him to the concept of the sixty-nine position, he absolutely short-circuits. what do you mean you can both suffocate in each other's musk while getting each other off?? what do you mean he can prop himself up above you so he can spend time teasing you while forcing you to choke on his length???

michael always cums a bit too quickly and a bit too much - the moment he enters you for the first time, he can't help but fill you up immediately (good thing he's blessed with inhuman stamina)

he's also the biggest fan of you offering to clean up the mess of his cum dripping down his shaft - if your ass is a bit tender and sore from his rough pace, he's more than happy to soften in your mouth while the two of you catch your breath and wind down

mikey isn't very confident with toys and would much rather pleasure you by himself, but he wouldn't mind learning slowly what you prefer over time

he's also not a fan of lube - it feels too cold on his skin and the slippery nature of it scares him a little, so the best way to get him all coated in pre (for your comfort ofc) is to rim him. his tip drools and spits out so much of his arousal whenever you fuck him with your tongue, rest assured it'll bubble down his shaft and drip onto your chest. the delicious flush of his neck and upper chest is a glorious sight to behold

he first feels the urge to make love to you slowly after he sees a steamy, romantic sex scene with a married couple on television - he wants to give you the warmth and care the actors portray on screen

when you first offered to give him head, he tentatively slapped his cock against your tongue to test waters and see if you liked the taste but ended up addicted to the feeling. he'll smack it against your lips and tongue every time you're on your knees for him

his heavy balls slapping against your chin while he floods your mouth with salty, thick warmth is one of his favourite sounds

he starts breathily whimpering in his gravelly voice whenever he fully bottoms out in your heat, one of the rare moments when he totally loses control over his lust for you

he grunts out the syllables of your name when he's about to cum, digging his fingers into your hips and nipping your neck, leaving deep marks on your skin

mikey gets the same rush whenever you both cum together as to when he stabs someone and kills them after a long game of cat and mouse - there's a reason why the french call it 'petit mortis', a little death

the first time the two of you had sex, it brought out such intense emotions from michael that he was left shaken, crying from confusion about the onslaught of feelings he just shared with you. he is originally torn between holding you close and never letting you go as well as instantly leaving and isolating himself in his own space - like he's used to. he needs time to fully mull over the situation and new sensations he experienced but he would really like to have you nearby incase he needs a hug :(

on a long day, after you've given him head, he'll softly catch his breath while watching you blissfully hum and rest your cheek against his thigh. he huffs a small chuckle as you press light kisses into his softening cock

myers really doesn't want to hurt your ass or bruise your upper thighs too much as he needs to have you perched on his lap whenever he can, but you can expect tender skin from his hips slapping into you as well as bruises from his grip on your waist and hips

if he was too rough with you the night before (maybe accidentally leaving bone-deep bruises or purple marks and scratches along your body), he'll disappear early next morning and return during breakfast with a fistful of fresh tulips as an apology, with their stems partially crushed. just be sure to rinse off the dirt still attached to the roots, it's the thought that counts :<

michael may be inexperienced and bashful but he'll try anything once if it gets you off and brings you pleasure

michael loves to place his hand around your throat, just as a reminder of his sheer strength and power over you. with the slightest amount of pressure, he could make your brain go dumb and your tongue loll out

he chokes you until your eyes become unfocused, your little gasps and whines becoming softer and softer. the proud glint in michael's eyes is deserved, as you fully trusted him with your life while you were in your most vulnerable position. he holds you close while you unsteadily catch your breath, mumbling about how good you are to him and stroking your hair all the while

if you're too shy to look up at him while he fucks you or gives you head, he'll tilt your chin up and groan when your cheeks flush at his blown out pupils

he's the type to not pull out after, needing to soften and catch his breath while still feeling connected, inadvertently overstimulating you without fail as his whole body is racked with aftershocks

if he's feeling mean, michael will make you hump his thigh while he palms at his dick during one of his arts and crafts sessions

he wipes the last dribbles of his cum on your inner thighs after he pulls out. he'll clean it either way - with a damp towel or his tongue, it's up to you <3

occasionally after a spree, he'll need to let his mind rest and will use you as his cute little fleshlight, burying himself deep inside you while guiding your hips along with his rhythm at a bruising pace. if you pay close attention, you'll see his lips forming silent prayers and whispers of apology whenever you yelp from the pace

his post-kill musk is potent enough to make your head spin. if you rest your cheek against his pectoral, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat start to slow against you :<

his guilty pleasure is pulling out while cumming thick spurts, slapping his tip across your skin while smearing his load all over you, be it your lips and cheeks or ass and thighs

michael doesn't want to disturb your sleep if he's needy, so he'll slip your hand in between his boxers and pajama pants to feel your smaller hand against his throbbing bulge. he's content to doze like that but expect to feel him humping into your fist while he sleeps. you may wake to the sound of sheets rustling as he licks up the mess he made, much too tired to change sheets but not wanting it to dry and soil your sheets

he insists on placing his hand firmly on the back of your neck whenever he takes you from behind - to stop you from fucking yourself back on his cock and squirming at his pace

after sex with mikey, it's a common occurrence for you both to be a panting mess on the floor when he's done, your throat sore from mindless babbling and loud moans - all complete with a wet, drool-covered spot on your shirt from his grunts through gritted, gnashed teeth. when he's floated back into the right headspace, he's absolutely mortified by his behaviour and is tentative to even glance at you in a less than innocent way for the next couple hours

if your soft body goes limp in his arms after a mind-blowing orgasm, he gets scared at first and stops his thrusts. he's worrying he hurt you but, once he realises you're alright, he'll support your head and neck and go completely feral, thrusting and grinding until he reaches his high as well

whenever you fall asleep ontop of him, he needs to have your face tucked into the crook of his neck - the scent of your hair and sex in the air lulls him to sleep quicker than any sedative could

he adores your attention while you both bask in your respective afterglows - your hands gently cradling his face while he tucks himself away is one of his favourite, most soothing actions of yours. he'll always rub circles into your skin in return

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

michael is inexperienced and completely driven by instinct when it comes to giving head - he wouldn't be deep-throating, instead focusing on your tip and licking along your veins. he's a master of giving handjobs, with the amount of spit he shamelessly coats you with (not to mention his rougher hands)

if he's particularly needy, he'll come up behind you and gently undo your belt while tracing his fingers over your zipper, nosing at your jaw and softly rutting into your ass while panting above you

the moment your fly is undone, his breathing gets ragged and drool nearly starts dripping down his chin

cages you against a bench or wall to rut against your ass and breathe in your scent after a long day at work

if you introduce him to rimming,, lord save your soul. his scruff rubs your ass raw with how often he goes to town on your tight, puckered hole. his favourite bit is pulling back and admiring how you glint in the light with his spit shining all over

of course, the extra spit only helps his efforts of bullying his throbbing cock into your poor hole

whenever michael is close to the edge while buried deep in you, he starts uncontrollably twitching and bumping your prostate, causing you to let out a pitchy whine at the unexpected feeling. every time without a doubt, his eyes roll back and growls into your ear at you clenching around him

he has a small photo shrine of your cocks together, a mess of cum and spit framed for his appreciation (he's a romantic)

his dirty fantasy is getting your attention while you're on the phone in bed by mouthing and groping at your cock, working you through the fabric of your pants

michael is obsessed with rutting his cock against yours, covering each other in your arousals, cum spurting up onto your chests as you nip and kiss at each other's chest and throat

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

mikey loses his mind a little each time you cream on his shaft, feeling your arousal dripping down to his balls and coating the insides of his thighs. just the thought of your slick coating him is enough to make his eyes roll back

he rips or cuts your underwear off you if he's too impatient to wait for you to fully undress

once michael is fully stuffed inside you, he gently traces where you meet, in awe of how he manages to fit in your heat

his large hands span over the bulge of his cock in your tummy, making you tear up at the pressure and drip onto the sheets

leans his head closer to your ear just to make sure you hear his groans and grunts while he destroys your pussy

his favourite sight is his pearly globs of cum oozing out of your puffy, soaked hole - made complete by the fucked out glaze in your eyes as you stare at the blurry spectre of a giant between your thighs

he tentatively gropes your thighs and enjoys warming his hands by sticking them up your shirt. if you both happen to make an appearance in public, expect him to crowd around you to try and shield you form from wandering eyes - he may be yours but you're also his, so no one has a right to touch or even look at your precious body (especially not your soft tits or ass, they're for him only)

teach him to tie his hair in a messy bun or acquire a hairband for him to keep his hair from getting sticky whenever he does down on you, slurping and worshipping your pussy like it's his god-given purpose on this earth

once he tries taking you in a mating press, he accidentally discovers heaven. he can fully dwarf you in his shadow and also cradle your pretty face while erratically thrusting and groaning in that raspy voice you love. if he fucks you dumb, he's more than happy to wipe away your tears

sometimes michael hesitates pushing into you for fear of it hurting too much, unintentionally resulting in him working you up by teasing your entrance with his thick cockhead then nudging your clit, fully soaking his length in your arousal

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael's sadistic side comes out when he spanks your cock until your sloppy boycunt is drooling onto the mattress. he makes sure to gently slip his finger in your hole every so often, his delight in your whines is very evident when you can feel him throbbing under you

his strong forearms easily hold down your hips to stop them from rutting into his mouth whenever he sucks you off, making you shiver with every thrust of his tongue. his dick is neglected while he goes to town, not that mikey minds at all. he knows he'll be able to go balls deep after you've cum at least once to loosen up for him

due to his strength, he'll keep you still even while you become overstimulated, the pleasure bordering on pain but he's too far gone to care - this man becomes so pussydrunk that he can barely process that he's stained all of the material in your immediate vicinity with your arousal; your pants, his shirt, the carpet and not to mention the couch or bedsheets from his erratic wiping of his fingers when they get too slippery

loves to have you bouncing on his cock - grabbing your hips until they're bruised to control the pace and depth, pushing you to take all of him inside

sometimes if you look extra delectable while attempting to reach something off of a high shelf, michael may not be able to control himself and his craving for your taste - he will bend you over with no hesitation and make out with your cunt, nose glistening in your folds as his chapped lips graze against your tdick and his chin dripping with your pre. his massive hands groping your ass as he spreads your legs for better access

the rhythmic clapping of his heavy balls slapping your sopping cock is forever engrained in his mind, sometimes resurfacing at the most inconvenient times - he will be forced to rush home in the middle of an attempted spree just to feel your body against his

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

michael chases the sensation of having you pressed up against him while you're wearing clothing he's gotten you

he loves you feeling pretty whenever you're on top, tucking your hair behind your ear and using his thumb to swipe his cum off your chin

he will make you do your makeup before you fuck, needing you to feel as beautiful as possible while he absolutely destroys your hole - lipgloss smeared, mascara running, hair mussed and bruises all over your hips. he views you as a goddess, so expect him to make you feel like one

when you guide him to take your balls in his mouth, he'll eagerly suckle on them then return to your tip for his reward, eager to lap up your arousal with obscene slurping noises and proud huffs of satisfaction

he has a small shrine of your panties he's borrowed, keeping the ones with the dainty floral details for 'creative inspiration'

mikey gently squeezes on the back of your neck when preparing to take you from behind - he cannot simply cum from you squirming in impatience and grinding into him, he's not even inside you yet (it would be a waste quite frankly)

as his stubble rubs you raw whenever he eats you out, prepare for the bubbling heat beneath your skin to return tenfold whenever he fucks your thighs like a madman

_ _ _ _ _

sorry if writing quality dropped, this took so long lmao. art the clown is next btw, look out for that.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

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callsign-relic · 5 months ago

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Borrowing from the Bar

Finally finished this commission for my dear friend @aston-one-77 , and just in time for their birthday :) I’m posting this after the fact, but it was a pleasure finally getting this done, and I’m happy they enjoyed it. I hope you will too :) enjoy!

Warnings: SFW, First Contact AU, GN!Human!Reader, fearplay

An alien exploration ship was no place for a human. Especially not the bar.

But you found you had little choice. You had only wanted to stowaway on the massive ship for as long as it took for them to arrive on a planet you could reasonably stop at. Rest, try to find a way back to your own planet. However, it looked like fate had other plans, and you could do little else but scramble across the steel floors and between the metallic walls as these gigantic aliens had plenty of adventures of their own. It was all you could do to hide, survive, and most importantly of all, try not to get caught.

You’ve had plenty of close encounters before. You’re pretty certain the big blue one is one caught glance away from being completely certain of your presence aboard the ship. But you were decently stealthy-- you’d never actually been caught yet-- and your stockpile of food was running lower than you would like. Whether you liked it or not, the bar was the best place to get a lot of food in such short notice.

And so, there you were. Creeping quietly through the insides of one of the walls, making your way down to ground level. Approaching a light near the floor-- a crack in one of the metal panels to the walls of the ship. Until eventually, you stood right at the opening.

Thunderous footsteps shake you even in just your place. These gigantic robots— towering countless feet above you— walking in and out of the bar, making their way to the bar counter or over to their booths. All talking amongst themselves in booming voices, in an alien language you still haven’t wrapped your head around yet.

You suddenly find yourself jumping back with a yelp as a massive metal foot lands itself before your crack in the wall with a rumbling thud, pulling you out of your train of thought, before slowly lifting and continuing out of view.

Right. You had to move eventually.

And slowly, you peeked your head out of the crack, turning it left and then right. The coast would never be completely clear, but you had a decent path over to the bar counter for now. All you had to do was get there, grab anything somewhat edible, and get back into the walls. Easy enough. With deep inhale, you charge forwards into the room.

You’re quick to realize that the bar is a lot bigger than it looks. That should have been a given, but based on the way your breath picks up and your heart starts pumping, you realize you’re running out of stamina faster than you’d like. Ducking and weaving between metal footfalls, making sudden detours into empty seating booths, just trying not to trip against the polished steel floors.

From where you stand, under the high table of an unoccupied booth, you gather you’re about halfway there. Your chest is pounding. You take in a few breaths— almost hyperventilating at first, but soon enough, your breath slows to a more reasonable pace. You could do this. You were going to be fine.

Your courage gathered, you dash forwards into the fray, the bar counter the only thing in sight—

Until you bump into something so hard everything goes black.

Light slowly filters in through your vision. At the same time, a searing pain blooms from your forehead, throbbing in stinging pulses. Your eyes strain to open under the harsh light of the bar…

Wait. The bar.

Then is finally when you shoot up in your seat, but you can’t help the yell that escapes past your lips as you’re met with a terrifying sight.

The heads of more bots than you could count were all surrounding you. Staring directly at you.

You watch some of their faces light up. Reacting to you finally waking up, no doubt. Many of them started speaking over each other all at once, their voices utterly booming at such a proximity— it was enough to make your teeth ache. But it was only after a while of staring at their awestruck faces that you noticed something was… off.

Their faces were almost… warped, at certain places. As if they were bent at certain angles. You’d caught glances of their faces before, none of them had ever looked like that before. So that could only mean—

A sharp clink tears through the air as one of the mechs’ hands suddenly slams down atop you— only to be stopped midair. Your suspicions were confirmed. You had been trapped in some gigantic, glass cube. And it was slowly being lifted from above you.

In a panic, you scramble back, attempting to cower against the far wall, but even that was being lifted from you. You had only wanted food, but

“Woah, don’t be so hasty, Swerve!”

A loud, boisterous voice breaks through the crowd, and yet the words still don’t go understood by you. Nonetheless, the crowd of bots in front of you all turn their helms behind themselves, and slowly part to make way for whomever was approaching.

You find yourself almost blinded by the sight.

A decently tall mech, even for their standards, shining in freshly polished, reddish-orange plating strides up to the bar counter— where you were being held. The red hand above you lifts, and your glass prison falls down around you once more. The taller mech crosses the distance from the entrance to the counter with sheer ease; what would take you hours to cross, he covered in mere seconds, all with the distant thud of his footsteps rumbling below you.

As he stops in front of the counter, you’re level with his hips. You have to reel your head much farther back than you’re comfortable with to meet his gaze. And once you do, he grins at you.

“Aw. Now aren’t you a cutie?” His voice is powerful, even at a distance and slightly muffled through the glass, but even you could tell when you were being cooed at. The mech’s gaze shifts from you, however, to the mech who was behind you, crossing his arms. “Where’d you say you found this thing, Swerve?”

You whip your head around to find a much smaller mech manning the bar. Short and stocky in his frame, coated in white and red paint— and despite his easygoing smile, you didn’t trust the fact that you couldn’t really read him. At least, not behind his opaque, vibrant blue visor.

The bartender shrugs, “Was walkin’ across the bar floor when the little guy ran into my pede. I scooped it up, wanted to make sure it was still functional, but you know how word spreads like an electrical fire ‘round these parts, ya’ know? Suddenly the bar was all up in arms, wantin’ to see, and I just left it here under an energon cube so people could see. It woke up, so I started liftin’ the glass so I could check on it. Then’s when ya’ stopped me. And now we’re talkin’.”

As the bartender spoke, the red mech listened to him with a certain attentiveness. One that almost commanded authority… oh, no. Please don’t say that this was their leader…

“Huh,” the apparent captain uncrosses his arms, squatting down to level himself with you. You flinch back, your space suddenly awash in the blue glow of his eyes, and your chest starts pounding once more. Despite it all, he gives you a reassuring smile (though whether or not it succeeds in reassuring you is doubtful at best), before he rises back to his full height. “Thanks for telling me, Swerve. I can take it from here.”

Your ears almost ache from the amount of objections that erupt in the bar.

“What, really? But I just found it, Rodimus,” Swerve half chuckles, taking a handful of what you assumed were dust coated snacks and plating them in the same type of cube you were being stored in. The occasional mech leans over the counter to grab one, leaving a few still scattered about the countertop. “Ya’ can’t blame me for bein’ just a little curious.”

“I know, I know,” Rodimus sighs, closing his eyes as he shakes his head solemnly. “But Magnus would kick me in the skid plates if I didn’t follow protocol. Sorry, but rules are the rules.”

Swerve’s smile falters, if only a little. “Heh, uh. Since when’d you start carin’ about the rules…?”

His mutterings must have gone unheard (or ignored) however, as Rodimus once again sighs. Extra loudly, this time. “Rules are the rules,” he insists, extending his servo out to the smaller bot.

Swerve hesitates, if only for a moment. Before his smile returns, and with a content little shrug, he hands the captain a cube, its dark contents shifting around from the movement. “Thanks, Swerve. I’ll take care of it from here.” Rodimus brings the cube near his chest, striding to the exit like a hunter taking home his big game. “Nothin’ to see here, people. Get back to your drinks. I’ve got this.”

The captain turns the corner, and the bar is silent. But a quiet murmur picks back up, and soon enough, chatter fills the air.

“It was so small.”

“Did you see the fabrics it was wearing? And the stringy stuff coming out of its helm? Organics are so weird!”

“No fair, I didn’t get a good look at it!”

Swerve nods along. A uniquely calm smile remains on his dermas as he grabs a rag in the inner bar counter and reaches for an empty glass--

“Oop. Sorry, lil’ guy, almost grabbed yours.”

Massive, thick red digits pull away from the glass walls that surround you, shifting ever so slightly to your left, instead wrapping around an empty glass and lifting it into the air with pure ease. The large mech looks out onto the bar, even as you shakily come to your feet. You dash to the far wall of your prison, slamming your fists against the glass, shouting for his attention, demanding he let you go--

He glances to you. You freeze. Another little smile creeps up his lips as he places down his polishing rag, and suddenly, a wide digit moves towards you. Even though you know you’re protected, you can’t help but stumble back as his digit approaches you, even going so far as to land on your rear as your arms raise upwards.

Swerve taps at the top of the cube. Once. Then twice. Three times. Each tap of his massive metal finger on the glass of the cube echoing through your prison in painfully sharp clinks. All while the bartender smiled at you, quietly mouthing words in his low voice that you couldn’t possibly hope to comprehend. Placing something in his mouth— what looked like a small cube of the glowing substance they all consumed, coated in a dust the same dark color as the bodysuit you wore— larger than your own body, yet pulled back into his maw, disappearing without a trace.

It looks as though you were going to stay at the bar for much longer than you had originally planned.

#relic answers #transformers #transformers x reader #Rodimus x reader #swerve x reader #transformers g/t #maccadam #maccadams #reader insert #x reader #relic writes #me actually posting a tf fic? in this economy?#next one won’t be for another year /j

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littlemissmiller · 1 year ago

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His Good Girl 🎀

Pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

Summary: you’re famous in the capitol, everyone wants you or to be you, but only coriolanus get to have you. the night you and him take your relationship public, his jealousy and possessive nature overcomes him. he decides to make it clear who you belong to.

Warning: 18+ smut, praise kink, dom!snow, sub!reader, fingering, p in v, oral (f receiving), cum play, hickeys, possessiveness, jealously, porn with a plot

Word count: 5.1k

A/N: hello again :D! wow back to back posts look at me go. so i was struggling to figure out what i was going write next and didn’t expect to post again so soon until like next week, but i stumbled across this in my notes app last night after i published my billy the kid fic and here we are. so enjoy! im not sure what to write about next still. may drop a pedro fic next who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ so anyways here is another dark!coryo for ya ❣︎

Artwork

୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧ ୨୧

Snow found you sitting by the window in his bedroom, gazing out upon the pedestrians as they walk by.

You hadn’t heard him come in and aren’t alerted to his presence until the door closes behind him. You startle and whip your head around. He stands still behind you, his head cocked to the side slightly as he examines you, with a devilish grin on his face. His eyes trail up and down your body. You weren’t expecting him to be home yet, so he had found you in your silk, pink robe embroidered with small white roses. You were clearly fresh out of the shower and about to change into something suitable for the evening and dinner later that night.

“You’re home!” You exclaim

“Is that ok?” Coriolanus asked knowing that the question was completely rhetorical. As if he could only come to his own home whenever you felt it was suitable.

“I just wasn’t expecting you home so early. At least not for two more hours. I was hoping to be all ready for you.” You explain

All ready for him. Coriolanus liked how submissive that sounded. He likes when you were obedient and perfect for him. Especially the last few months as you and him took your relationship further. By now, he has expected you to be at his apartment by the time Coriolanus had gotten home from the University. Given your schedule, he knew he wasn’t keeping you from anything or taking you away from anything either. So where else would you have to go except come to his apartment. And you did.

“I can see. What are you wearing tonight?” Coriolanus asks

Excitedly, you bounce up and rush over to the wardrobe where your dress is hanging up. In your hurry, your robe reveals a part of your bare thighs which Coriolanus takes note of and enjoys the subtle view of your body. You open one of the doors and reveal a pink dress hanging on the back of the door. It’s silk like your robe and Coriolanus already knows that the moment you have it on, he’ll want to tear it off you.

“It’s the one you said you liked the other day at the shop so I sent in an order and had it sent here today.”

Coriolanus thought to himself as he takes a few strides towards you. Good. You are sending things to his apartment. As it should be.

“Just as beautiful as the girl wearing it.” He smiles and walks over behind you.

He grabs your shoulders and his lips give your neck a firm kiss, directly on your pulse. You take the dress from the inside of the door and reveal the mirror attached to the inside of the wardrobe. You hold it up to you, imagining what it will look like on you tonight. You catch Coriolanus’s gaze in the mirror. His blue eyes are piercing through your soul as usual, but there was now a cloud of lust swirling in them. His hands snake towards your waist. He slithers them under your robe and rests them just above your hips. You pretend to not care or notice his actions, but the growing heat in between your legs wants you to give in to him. You tame your labored breathing as you smooth the dress out in front of your body.

“And what will you be wearing, my love?” You ask

“I picked out an all black suit this week. I’ll make sure to adorn a white rose now that I’ve seen this.” He states taking a piece of the pink fabric in between his thumb and fore finger “and you’ll put one in your hair, just in case people forget who you belong to.”

“Well I was already planning on wearing the black diamond necklace you gave me. The one with your initials carved on the back.” You respond touching the center of your chest where the necklace would lay. “Or perhaps I should wear the black lace choker…the once with the gem?”

One of Coriolanus’s hands travels up to your neck. As beautiful as the choker was, the thought of you wearing the black necklace with his initials around your neck seems perfect for tonight. It would tell everyone at that dinner that you were undoubtedly his. Yes, it was perfect.

“The necklace will look nice on you tonight. Wear it.” He whispers in your ear, tugging at it slightly with his teeth. You gasp, finally breaking and giving in slightly. The hand, not wrapped around your throat, travels up and down your thigh.

“Whatever you want.” You whisper back trying to hold back a moan as Coriolanus places a light kiss to your jawline. His hand holds your face up to look at him as he does. It’s hypnotic to watch and he knows it.

“If you behave tonight, you’ll be sure to be rewarded.” He reminds you

You hang the dress back up and he spins you around. He dips in and gives you a proper kiss on the lips. He pulls back soon and mumbles against your lips

“Understand?”You nod your head. He tuts at you and squeezes your hips.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

The two of you finish getting ready. Coriolanus takes his own shower while you attend to your hair and makeup. Thankfully, being around Tigris meant she was always helping to style you. She had taught you what makeup and hairstyle looks best with certain outfits or styles of dress. So for tonight a soft, baby doll look. And your hair, Tigris decides to put half of it up, tying it in place, then setting it with a white rose, just as Coriolanus asked. You take a look at yourself in the mirror. You’re stunning. Sexy and yet elegant. Your makeup was perfect too. You had a faint tint of red blush on your cheeks and nose, your lips were glossy and plump like a ripe plum. You batted your eyes, now long and defined with mascara and smile at yourself.

When Coriolanus finally sees you as you exit his vanity closet, he’s stuck in place. Temptation washing over him. Tigris spun you around, showing you off to him. She left the room, leaving the two of you alone to finish getting ready. You attach your earrings and finally adorn the necklace. You put on a pair of strappy pink heels and find your purse.

“Ready?” You ask admiring how handsome Coriolanus looks in his suit.

Coriolanus steps towards you, closely examining you as he does. His mouth curves into a half grin. As if he is pleased by the sight in front of him. The dress hugs your body beautifully and the half slit up your thigh is tempting. He grips his hands around your waist.

“I am. You look incredible my dove.” He remarks placing a kiss on your forehead

“As do you. Almost perfect.”

“Almost?” he inquires

You nod your head and walk over to the side table next to his bed. Coriolanus takes note and how the dress falls on your hips and how they sway gracefully, yet subtly from side to side. You pick a rose from the vase on the table. You open the drawer and pull out a safety pin and walk back to him. You stand in front of him and look up at him as you pin the white rose to his lapel. You show off the back of your hair. He touched the rose in your hair and smiled. You turn back to him, wrap your arms around his neck, and whisper into his ear.

“Now you are ready.”

You and Coriolanus leave the house, enter the car, and give the driver the directions. Tonight was to be a “private dinner”, however it was truly anything but. The guest list was to be consisted mostly of Panem’s up and coming young politicians from the senior class at the University. Around thirty students, each permitted to bring a guest. It wasn’t anything too special, but rumors of Coriolanus Snow seeing someone had become rather out of hand. So what made tonight special for the pair of them was the public nature in which they were officially announcing their relationship.

Up until now you and him have tried to keep things a secret to avoid attention from the news, given you are a prominent member in The Capitol. Especially your family. Your father had helped create a new weapon manufacturing business after the war and had been regularly contracted by The Capitol to create weapons in the last few years. He had become good friends and business associates with Strabo Plinth. It gave your family status and you some newfound fame. In turn it would help give Coriolanus some as well. But Coriolanus had you in his life for much more than just that. Having you as his own. His girl. It felt thrilling.

Thrilling to know that only he got to have you. It was no secret that your looks were talked about often. Simply because you were so beautiful with a beloved last name. A name almost impossible to escape given your father’s philanthropy as well as service to The Capitol. So the fact that Snow got to have you. Out of all the other wealthy and famous girls, you were the most desirable. The most popular and loved.

Coriolanus rubs your semi-exposed thigh and watches you watch the city pass by.

“Are you nervous my dove?” he asks

You look over at him and smile. You shake your head.

“Not at all.”

Despite this being a private dinner, he was sure that, by the time they left, word of their romantic relationship would get out and the press will try and snap a picture of them. A type of attention Coriolanus hadn’t received in a while and wasn’t sure how he would react this time around. Your attitude towards this evening however, put him a little more at ease.

“Are you?” You follow up

“Slightly. Not ready for all the attention that we will probably get after tonight.”

You look at him sympathetically and squeeze the hand that is rubbing your thigh.

“It will be fine” You reassure him

He looks at you with a new found sense of confidence. He squeezes her thigh as she continues to grip his hand.

The driver arrives to the mansion where the dinner is held. The house of the Dean of Political Science. Coriolanus steps out, rushes to your side and opens the door. He extends his hand and you take it. Both your arrivals change the dynamic of the party. You move through the crowd towards a group of Coriolanus’s classmates. The polite nods, chatter, and occasional laughs turn into head turns, double takes and whispers as you walk past people. Coriolanus looks at you as you walk. You seem unbothered by the attention and loop your arm around his elbow. Once you make it to your table, his classmates greet him.

“Ah Coriolanus! Good to see you!” Festus Creed exclaims

“You as well Festus.”

“And might I say it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Festus follows up extending his hand to you. You take it and greet him.

“Nice to meet you”

Coriolanus officially introduces you and Festus to each other. You then turn to smile at a few of Coriolanus’s classmates hanging around, but they stay back as to not intrude on your boyfriend’s conversation. They whisper to one another. You couldn’t tell if they were talking about you though. What you couldn’t tell was if it was good or bad. Coriolanus knew however. The sneering looks and childish giggles of Livia Cardew and Clemensia Dovecote were looks that he was all too familiar with. Coriolanus looks at you. You seem to have slipped into a polite conversation with Festus, who by the sound of it seems to be a fan. You indulge his enthusiasm. Coriolanus nods at you and walks over to investigate the conversation between Clemensia and Livia’s conversation. As he approaches they seem too caught up to notice him.

“I mean the matching roses. So cheesy.” Clemensia snickers

“And the matching colors. Like give me a break.” Livia follows up

“Also what is that. A night gown? She looks like a whor-“ Clemensia starts

“Clemensia. Livia. How are you two this evening?” Coriolanus asks firmly, cutting her off

“Oh Coriolanus!” Clemenisa startles “Good to see you.” She says, suspicious of if he had overheard their conversation.

“Anything the matter?” He asks

“No. Why would something be wrong?” Livia asks

“I hope there wouldn’t be.” He states in a somewhat threatening manner

“So your date. What a surprise.” Clemensia sneers not at all intimidated by Coriolanus’s stern manner

Coriolanus starts to feel a strong wave of protection over you, with a slight tinge of possession. He looks at Clemensia with a threatening look masked in curiosity.

“How so? I thought there was rumors of us floating around am I wrong?” He asks

“There were, just interesting to see them be confirmed. Happy for you.” She smiles “Seems like you’re not the only one who is infatuated by her.” She snickers

Coriolanus whips his head around to see that a crowd has gathered around you. A few more of the male students in addition to Festus. They ogle you and subtly fight for your attention. Coriolanus finds himself slowly filling up with rage. He forces a smile to Livia and Clemensia, excuses himself, and walks over to you. You watch him as he walks over. He moves to stand behind you, placing both his hands on your shoulders. He dips down to kiss your cheek and you smile.

“Making friends” he jokes trying to hide his anger

“Apparently” you whisper back

As you and Festus continue the conversation and Coriolanus tries to contain himself. He rubs your shoulders. He’s fuming with anger at Clemensia and Livia. And at the other men trying to steal your attention. Part of that is his fault for walking away from you. Letting them have access to your attention. Still, how dare they. And how dare anybody try to insult you. He wouldn’t stand for it. The evening continues and Coriolanus keeps you close to him for the remainder of the dinner. He watches the people around you. The group of boys from before seem to keep their distance now that Coriolanus refuses to leave your side. He also keeps a close eye on Clemensia and Livia. He wants to teach them a lesson for their gossip and wants to gouge that group of boys eyes’ out.

He tries to temper his anger, but his paranoia seems to continually get the best of him. Maybe you’ll leave him for one of them. Get bored, think taking the relationship public like this is too much. Maybe you do think the matching roses are cheesy and think he’s silly for suggesting it. He glances around at the numerous eyes looking at you. He tries to convince himself that every man looking in your general direction isn’t looking at you but he can’t help but notice how their eyes seem to linger. They way they gawk at you disgusts him.

You and him leave, making sure not to linger after dinner is served. Coriolanus is anxious to leave, practically rushing you out of the mansion and into the car. There is an awkward silence on the way back to his apartment and you try to talk to him, but he just shakes his head and whispers firmly “I’ll explain when we get back.”

His mood seems to escalate as the car approaches the apartment. When it arrives he rushes out in a hurry and you thank the driver before trailing behind him.

“Coryo? What’s wrong.” You ask

“Just get inside” he huffs

You walk past him into his apartment and he follows you. He shuts the door and lets out deep breath in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” You ask again

“I can’t stand how people treat you?” He huffs

“What do you mean?”

“The way they talk, the way they look at you.” He explains. He walk over to a chair in the kitchen and flops himself down. His chest rises rapidly as he looks down at the floor. He tries to control his breathing, but the thought of how that group of boys looked at you, plays in his mind. And he can still hear the obnoxious giggles of Clemensia and Livia.

“And you think that I care? That’s how it always is for me.” You sigh with a laugh

Coriolanus still feels upset however and his body language doesn’t change. He’s still fuming.

“What about the attention from all the boys tonight. Do you care about them?” He perks up

“Is that what’s truly bothering you?” You ask stepping closer behind his chair.

“Partly.”

“And what else?” You ask standing behind, placing your hands on his shoulders.

“A few of my other classmates. I caught them gossiping about us.” He confesses

“Hmm. They are probably just jealous.”

He doesn’t respond as he tries to calm himself down.

“I just want to put them all in their place. Show them they shouldn’t mess with us.”

You start to massage his shoulders and he begins to lean back into the chair and relax. You move your hands up towards his neck and continue to massage him. “And tell me what would you do to them?” You ask.

“I want to sew those girls mouth shut. And tear those boys eyes out.”

“Mmm. Maybe you can find something special for them in Dr. Gaul’s lab” you whisper as you feel Coriolanus sink further into your touch. You run your hands up and down his chest. “Or turn them into avoxes. So they never speak again.”

“And those boys?” Coriolanus asks

“Well if you’re upset at them then you’ll have to put a price on everyone’s head who looks at me like that.”

“I just don’t want them getting ideas” he replies

You giggle and continue rubbing his chest.

“Well they’ll think what they want. Not much I can do there. But it doesn’t matter because they’ll never have me. It’s a game to them. And they’ll never win. They will always lose.” You pause to kiss his cheek “And Snow always lands on top right?” You whisper kissing his earlobe and the side of his jaw. He groans and leans his head back in response. You cup the side of his face and rub his cheek. He turns his head and kisses the inside of your palm.

“You’re the only one who gets to touch me. To have me. Only you. No one else gets that right except you.” You whisper

“Am I?” He asks

“Mhmm” you nod

“Show me”

Coriolanus grips your wrist. He pulls your hand off his face and tugs at it, signaling that he want you to come in front of him. You walk around and stand in front of him briefly. He looks at you lustfully and spreads his legs. You stand in between them and grin at him. He rubs your hand as you slide onto his lap. As you sit, you guide his hand to your thigh and under your dress, slowly guiding him.

“See. Only you.”

He inches up and down your thigh. His fingertips graze the inside, making the heat that has begun to bubble up in between your legs more apparent. You move your hips against his crotch and feel his semi-hard cock aching to be free from the confines of his pants. You lean in and kiss him. He kisses you back and snakes his hand further up your thigh. He brushes his fingertips across your core and feels how wet and hot you have become. He lets out a breathy moan, breaking the kiss.

“Is this only for me too?” He mutters. You nod your head and he snakes two fingers under your panties. He starts to lightly rub at your clit. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“So then I can’t be blamed for wondering eyes now can I?” You whisper back

“No, but they will pay. All of them.” He mouths at your jawline and down to your neck. You tilt your head back, giving him better access. He sinks into your neck, with the goal of marking you up. To show everyone that you belong to him. He sucks and bites on your skin, turing the flesh into fresh black and blue bruises. You whimper at the sensation as you melt into his chest.

“Coryo” you whisper

His free hand begins to grope your breasts over the dress and he moves his hand back down your thigh. He swings your legs over his lap and shifts on his seat. He picks you up unexpectedly and you gasp in surprise. You cling to him. He takes you to his bedroom and tosses you on the bed. You gather yourself and scoot back, as he strips himself of his sports coat. He unbuttons his shirt halfway down, then eagerly, he pulls at your ankles. You yelp and he slides you towards him. He smirks at the look of awe on your face. He could tell you were hungry for him. Not just that, but you seem mesmerized by him. Coriolanus couldn’t tell if it was because of the way your eyes were filled with need or that his clear possessiveness over you had you wondering about what was in store for you. He ran his hands up your thighs, pushing your dress up past your hips. He kneels down and his fingers trace the lining of your panties. You jerk your hips slightly and he takes the opportunity to slide them off your legs. You bite your lower lip in an attempt to hold back your moans, but they stifle out as little whimpers that go straight to Coriolanus’s cock.

“So needy for me.” He smirks

He kisses the inside of your thigh and grazes his teeth over the spot he kissed. He begins to leave the same marks he put on your neck. You can’t help but love how much he’s marking you. You know it’s only because he’s frustrated and wants everyone to know not to mess with you. You whine in frustration, needing Coriolanus to touch you.

“Please Coryo. I want you so bad”

He gives you a devilish grin and squeezes your thighs. “Mmm keep begging pretty girl.”

“I need you. Please just touch me.” You whine

He begins kissing your thigh again, all the way up until he reaches your core. You shutter at the feeling as his lips press against your clit. He moves you closer to him and you rest your legs on his shoulders. You reach for his blonde hair, running your fingers through it. He restrains his actions, only pressing light kisses on and around your clit.

“Coryo please…please.” You beg again

“Mmm that’s it.” He moans

He dives in His mouth fully devouring your pussy. He mouths at your clit and you instinctively squeeze your thighs around his face. He presses your legs apart and devours you even more. He sucks and nibbles at your sensitive bud, taking in the pleasure that is spread across your face. Coriolanus likes having this control over you. He likes hearing the small, soft whines that escape your lips and he loves how you beg for him. How you need him. It makes his ego swell in his chest. He knows you’re addicted to him. He knows that he makes you feel so good. He laps up your wetness and runs his tongue along your folds. It makes your hips buck, causing him to put a stern hand on your stomach.

“Take it baby girl. Try to stay still.” He murmurs against you

You nod your head as he gives kitten licks to your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Without warning, he removes his mouth and replaces the sensation with his fingers. He watches you carefully as your face contorts. He doesn’t hold back as he pumps his fingers into you. You look even more beautiful for him like this. Willing and submissive to his touch. You’re perfect, pretty face scrunched up in pleasure. He drinks you in as he runs his tongue up your thigh. You jerk your hips and he pushes your body back down on the bed. You’re throbbing at this point, so hypnotized under him. He crawls back up to you. His tongue licks a long stripe up your neck, just as he did to your thigh.

“So desperate. Are you gonna be good for me?”

You nod your head, which lands you a firm slap to the meat of your thigh.

“Speak up princess.” He warns

“Yes Coriolanus, I’ll be good for you.”

He strokes the side of your face, his knuckles brush up against your cheek. His hand moves to grip your chin and under your jaw. He forces you to look into his sinful gaze. He leans in and clashes his mouth with yours. He fights to dominate the kiss and you let him. He sits you up as you continue to kiss him. He unzips the back of your dress and it slides down your shoulders. In the same motion, Coriolanus unhooks your bra. He brushes your straps from your shoulders and pulls the rest of the dress from your body. You lay there, completely bare for him. You feel vulnerable, especially given his clothes are still on. You feel like his prey.

“So beautiful like this.” He states rubbing your thighs. He sits up on his knees, towering over you. He begins to explore your body with his hands. He moves them up to kneed and cup your breasts. His fingers gently massage your nipples as he pulls at them. You wince at his actions, squirming under his touch.

“Coryo please I need more…” you beg, your tone sounding desperate and whiny

He smirks. He leans down close to you and gives you a few chase kisses to your neck and up to your ear.

“I like how you sound when you beg. So pretty.”

He tugs at your earlobe with is teeth, causing you to shutter. The action of it going straight to your throbbing core. He rubs his fingers through your slit, humming to himself. He removes them, causing you to whine. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, revealing his perfectly toned chest. He then unzips his pants and steps out of them. At this point his cock is hard and ready under his briefs. He rubs himself through his underwear as he gazes down at you.

“Touch yourself.” He commands and you obey

Your fingers dragging through your folds slowly as you look back up at him, mouth agape.

“There you go. Good girl.”

“Coryo” you whisper. He smirks at you and pulls his briefs down and his cock springs forward. This isn’t your first time with Coriolanus. Still, every time you got nervous and he could tell. Your fingers slow down and you think about having to take him in you.

“What’s wrong my pet?”

“Just you’re so big Coryo.”

He gives you another smirk “Yeah, but you can take it right? You always take me so well.” He growls, slithering his hand around your neck.

He kisses you as he lines himself up with your entrance. He slides in slowly. At first it’s painful and he keeps his eyes focused on your face to get a read on how you feel. You temper your breathing and try to fixate on how handsome the face staring back at you is. He pushes into more until he reaches the hilt and his hips meet yours. You sigh in relief as the pain replaces with pleasure. You moan and he captures your lips. He dominates you. His lips move fast with yours. He’s clearly just as hungry for you as you are needy for him. His tongue swirls around with yours and he starts to move his hips. You moan again and he breaks the kiss. He looks down at the spot where you both connect and shutters. His gaze returns to yours.

“See. Look how well you take me. Just like you always do. So good for me.”

You nod your head in agreement and wince. He picks up his pace, thrusting deeper and deeper each time. His cock drags in and out of your pussy with ease now, the pain totally subsided. You nod in agreement, but that doesn’t satisfy Coriolanus. He needs to hear you say how much you like it. How much you crave this feeling he gives you. A feeling only he can give you.

“Talk to me. Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

“You feel so good.” You start hesitantly

“More.” He demands

“Mmhm Coryo you fill me up so well. Better than anyone else.” You moan

“The best you’ve ever had?”

“Mhmm.” You moan

In response he grabs your chin and forces you to look into his eyes.

“Use. Your. Words” he demands,, pumping into you harder with each word.

“Yes Coryo, you’re the best I ever had. And you’re the only one I want ooh…” you whine

“Good girl.” He grits through his teeth, giving you more of himself. He hit deeper and deeper, his lust fully overtaking him. He kisses you harshly, pinching and massaging your cheeks. “Only I get to have you like this. You understand?”

“Yes Coryo. I understand.” You mewl

He nods against your mouth. You feel your buildup coming, tense in your stomach, waiting to release. With a few final thrusts, you come around his cock. Your hips buck up, legs shaking, cunt throbbing as he fucks you through your euphoria. Soon enough he’s finishing inside you, stuffing warm ropes of white cum down your hole. You float down from the feeling that he gave you and temper your breathing. He pulls out, admiring as his cum drips out of you. He gets greedy, taking his index finger and pushing it back into you. You moan as he fingers you

“My sweet girl. I hope you know who is here for you. I’ll always watch over you. I’ll never let anyone disrespect you again.”

He pulls his hand away and traces his fingers over your neck, where he had previously sucked and marked you up. He smirked to himself. He puts his finger in your mouth. You suck yours and his collective cum off it and he coos at you.

“I get you all to myself. How fortunate for us both then hmm.

“Mhmm.” You nod, too fucked out to properly respond. As much as Coriolanus wanted you to speak, but he could see how spent you are. He kisses her cheek and settled into the bed next to her.

“Good girl.” He said letting his word be the last.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

Artwork

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #tbosas fanfiction #tom blyth #tom blyth fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #fan fiction #x reader #smut #smut fanfiction

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anisdolly · 1 year ago

Text

・。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: soft smut, subfem!reader x softdom!anakin, not proofread because im very lazy grrrr, breast worship (idk if its called like this i suck at explaining kinks !!!), body worship, p in v, little tease with his fingers heh.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

yeah, fucking rough is good, but can you imagine anakin taking you as if you are the rarest jewel in the galaxy?

he would start as usual, sitting by the edge of his bed with you astride on his lap, while his hands memorized every contour of your body. his eyes, just as eager, would take in each soft whimper from your parted lips and all the shudders that only he could provide. because to him, you’d be the only woman in the galaxy, and you’d be only his. so, how could he not worship you? your form, your personality, the way you dress in the morning while he stares from his usual side of the bed. everything about you would be just so perfect to him, it makes his stomach flutter.

and the moment you lower to hump yourself against his obvious erection, anakin would stop you mid-movement by grasping your hips—ever so gently, of course—and smile lovingly. “slow, my love. i want to make love to you tonight, alright?”

just as his words ended, his strong arms would shift your position and lay you down on the sheets comfortably, and he would take a few seconds to admire the beauty beneath him as he hovers above you.

with a few kisses, he would caress your neck, then the upper swell of your right breast. his lips would travel lower, too, just to savor the beat of your pulse under the sensitive skin, while one hand would find its way to unhook your bra with the ease of familiarity.

in this world, there was nothing anakin would love more than tits—except you, of course. oh, so soft and beautiful. especially if they are yours. the moment your bra slips away, he would admire them with dilated pupils that made the blue of his gorgeous eyes almost disappear. it takes him all his might not to ravage them, suck and bite his way from one to the other.

so instead, he’d simply lick his lips before locking his gaze with yours again.

after making sure you are ready enough by simply sliding index and middle upon the dampness of your underwear, with the rare gentleness that he deserves only for you, anakin would push them aside and move his hand to unbuckle his trousers. they are everything he is patient enough to strip away from—and not even entirely, as he just pushes them just past his hips along his underwear.

and once free, his touch would be reverent as he positions himself at your entrance, pausing, giving you a chance to feel every inch of him pressing forward, slowly encased by the velvety warmth of your body. it was no less intense than when he took you roughly, however—even in the softness of lovemaking.

“is this how you imagined it, hm?” he’d whisper as his forehead lands against yours and the slightest of smiles quirks the corners of his mouth. “me worshipping—mmhm…—every inch of you…” his moans lay directly onto your lips, while gentle fingers cradle both your thighs to keep them anchored on each of his hips.

his thrusts would be ever as gentle, making sure you could hum in delight and have every inch of your silk walls given attention. the attention they deserve. you always held him so tight, squeezing almost the soul out of him. so anakin would feel like he has to take them to heart. not that it is forced or unwanted, anyway.

the sounds coming out from his throat would be extremely different, too. whimpers, whines, “i love you”s thrown here and there between one thrust and the other.

and coming to kisses, anakin would kiss you a lot. probably, the moans that he swallowed would be more than the ones lost in the air. sweet, loving, not the usual ones where the main objective was to exchange spit (mh, but those are insanely good too).

his eyes, glazed with love, would be fixated upon the circular movements of his hips that just match yours, making sure your clit is being taken care of by his lower abdomen, before trailing upwards to admire your eyes roll to the sockets as you both come undone with soft yells. and just to add, your hands, that had been caressing and tugging his hair for the entire time with love and appreciation, helped him so damn much at reaching the edge.

oh, anakin fell more and more in love with you each time. well, after all, wasn’t that what lovemaking was for?

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin x you #star wars anakin #soft smut #fem reader #fem reader x anakin #softdom!anakin

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american-delirium · 28 days ago

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Can I request a fic with Tate being a dom? Honestly I can imagine both on him...

˖ ֹ੭୧ tate langdon x fem reader ⊹ ࣪

of course you can my lovely, tate is the biggest switch to ever switch, i rest my case 😌

MDNI 18+

TATE LANGDON had been itching to touch you, he watched you obsessively, every moment you were at the house, his eyes were on you, especially when you were in the shower, or getting changed, and especially when you managed to get some alone time to yourself. he swore you were going to drive him insane, he was desperate to touch you, instead he confounded himself to the basement and ferociously stroked his dick until it hurt while moaning your name underneath his breath.

what tate didn't know was that you knew. you knew he watched you, you knew he touched you when you slept, you knew he got hard at the sigh of you and it was far too fun to stop teasing him, you moaned his name once, you felt the air get so hot with arousal you had to open a window to actually breathe. you knew he was there, you were just waiting for him to snap, and snap tate langdon did.

it was a hot day, far too hot, you had sped down to your bra and panties with a see-through beach cover-up, you could feel his gaze on you as you lounged on your bed, sipping occasionally from a sweating drink. you could sense roughly where he was, right at your baseboard, watching you like the sick pervert he was. you lifted your gaze and looked directly at him, locking your eyes onto his, you tilted your head and gently tickled your fingers down your chest. that was enough for him to snap, just like you wanted. he came into view, and crawled up your bed, he didn't say much, but you could hear his rough panting, your cover-up was quickly discarded by him and your lips were locked with his.

tate didn't bother with your bra, instead he went straight to your panties, the wet spot already growing. he slipped away from your lips and climbed downwards on the bed, pressing his nose against the fabric, inhaling your scent, he growled quietly and then your underwear was discarded alongside the cover-up. tate crawled back up, his left hand gathering both your wrists and pinning them to your pillowcase. the buttons on tate's jeans popped open, he shimmied them downwards to his mid-thigh, he didn't waste time with hie boxers, he simply reached in and grabbed his throbbing dick, he stroked it once, twice and shoved his pre-cum slicked fingers between your lips. you sucked at the automatically, the salty taste lingering in your mouth. his length entered you suddenly, causing you to arch and gasp softly. "fuck, knew you could take it" he hissed from above you, rocking his hips minutely.

tate's hands squeezed your wrists tighter as he bottomed out, his pelvis pressed against you, his skin flushing with a glow that made him seem almost alive again. you both stood still for a few moments, your breathing mixing into one another, and then he pulled out, all the way to the tip, you let out a long moan as tate groaned, the sounds mixing together within your little bubble, the sound seemingly soaking into the walls rather than echoing off of them. tate thrust back in harshly, causing a whimper mixed with a gasp to escape from your lips, your legs twitching as his blunt tip forced its way into you. tate took on a changing pace, three fast thrusts in and out, one drawn out as he paused for a few moment when just his tip remained inside of you, the pace made you go feral. moans and babbles erupted from your mouth before tate silenced them by smashing his mouth against yours, your teeth clashed awkwardly, you found yourself not caring when tate brought down his free hand to your clit, rubbing it in circles, your thighs spasmed as you let out moans and groans from the intense pleasure, eventually the pressure that had built since you first felt tate's eyes on you snapped. you came with a loud moan, your fluids gushing sound his cock, your walls pulsing around him wildly, milking him. tate lasted two more thrusts before he thrusted once more into you and spilled inside of you.

i'm so horrible at writing drawn out smut istg i can't do it 💔 ANYWHO i hope you like it! kisses

TAGS ㆍ @anxiousgrungynympho

#american horror story #ahs fandom #ahs murder house #evan peters #evan peters x reader #american horror murder house #tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #ahs tate

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goblinontour · 10 months ago

Text

It’s Always Hard In The Morning

a couple rounds of strip poker and truth or dare gone wrong…or right?

warnings: fetus!alex, smut, oral (m receiving), alcohol, vomit, he’s a bit awkward but not too much

word count: 6.2k

The music felt loud. Too loud, maybe. But in his head, it was even louder. A relentless pulse of beats and treble that thrummed through his veins. The reality was that the volume was pretty low, as you’d been asked to keep it down after some complaints, but the alcohol coursing through his system distorted everything. The vodka and cranberry juice mix had been his drink of choice for the night, and he’d downed enough of it to feel the numbness spreading from his lips to his fingertips. His stomach would probably make him pay for it tomorrow, but for now, that was a distant problem. Anyway, you’d all likely be in the same miserable boat when the sun came up, so he didn’t dwell on it.

What did bother him, though, was the fact that he was fully dressed. Not because he was too warm or anything, but because, to his surprise, he’d won all the rounds of poker you’d played. Strip poker, to be exact. Sure, there was a fleeting sense of pride in his victories. Who wouldn’t feel good about winning? But that pride was quickly eclipsed by the growing realisation that he might look like a fool for being the only one still clothed.

The other guys had stripped down to their boxers, lounging back on their elbows with the kind of casualness that made it seem like they were born to be in this state of undress. They were laughing, nudging each other, their confidence undiminished by the lack of clothing. If anything, the absence of layers seemed to free them up, make them more comfortable. More…cool.

And then there were the girls, with their bright eyes and flushed cheeks, sitting around the circle on the floor, glancing at each other, at the boys, and at him. He couldn’t ignore the fact that several pairs of breasts were staring back at him, covered only by bras that, judging by their colours and patterns, had been chosen with this exact scenario in mind. It wasn’t just a game. It was a chance. The kind of chance that you only got once, especially at this age when crushes were intense and opportunities to act on them were rare.

But despite the playful atmosphere, the giggles, and the alcohol-fueled courage hanging in the air, Alex couldn’t bring himself to look up. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on his hands, resting awkwardly in his lap. The cardigan he wore, at his nana’s insistence, the one with “A.T.” stitched in black thread over the baby blue fabric, right above his heart, suddenly felt like a suit of armour he didn’t know how to take off.

You were sitting directly across from him, your pink-ruffled bra on full display, your hopes of catching his eye slowly fading with every second his attention stayed glued to his own cuticles. You had chosen that bra deliberately, as had the other girls chosen theirs, expecting and maybe even hoping that this exact situation would arise. The thrill of potentially being noticed by the boy you’d spent countless hours daydreaming about had your heart racing. But it seemed like your chances with Alex were slim. His head was down, his focus entirely elsewhere, and those hands of his seemed more important than anything, or anyone else in the room.

As the silence stretched, broken only by the distant music and occasional drunken laughter, the reality began to set in. Alex Turner, the boy you’d been crushing on for who knows how long, was too wrapped up in his own world to notice yours. And for all the layers he still had on, he was somehow more exposed than anyone else in the room.

His fingers drummed lightly against his knee as he watched the others with a detached sense of amusement. The alcohol had dulled his usual quick wit and made everything feel a bit more surreal. The laughter echoed around him, louder than it should have been, blurring with the music and the hum of nerves running beneath the surface. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words felt heavy on his tongue. He tried to force them out, something about how they should call it a night or maybe switch to a different game, but his voice barely rose above a whisper.

No one heard him. No one except you.

“Truth or dare?!” you suddenly called out, cutting through the noise, catching everyone’s attention. Heads turned towards you, and just like that, the mood shifted. The playful tension returned, curiosity sparking in everyone’s eyes. The group was immediately in, eager for the next round, especially since the stakes had already risen with the poker game.

Alex felt his pulse quicken. Truth or dare was a different beast, and he knew it. It had a way of pulling out secrets and forcing people into situations that might seem harmless in the moment but could linger long after. When it came to him, it was no surprise that the first dare was straightforward: “Lose a piece of clothing, Alex.”

The room erupted into a mix of cheers and teasing groans. Alex felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over him, but there was no backing out now. With a resigned sigh, he stood up and slowly peeled off the cardigan, folding it neatly before tossing it aside. A part of him was relieved to be rid of it, as though shedding the extra layer might make him feel less out of place.

The game continued, each round peeling back another layer of vulnerability from everyone involved. By the time it was Alex’s turn again, he was down to his jeans, bare-chested and sockless. The skin on his chest prickled with the cool air, but the heat from the alcohol and the thrill of the game kept him from shivering. He knew he couldn’t, wouldn’t, take off his jeans, no matter how much he drank or how many dares were thrown his way. It was a line he wasn’t ready to cross, and he hoped the others would sense that.

Then, it was your turn again. You locked eyes with Dee, your best friend, who had a knowing smile playing on her lips. You knew what was coming before she even spoke, and despite the anticipation, your heart still skipped a beat.

“Dare.” you said confidently, knowing you could trust Dee to set the stage perfectly.

“Seven minutes in heaven with anyone you want- no, wait, with one of the boys.” she declared, her eyes twinkling with excitement. The room collectively inhaled, and you could feel the anticipation buzzing in the air.

You hesitated, but only for show. Inside, you were already picturing how this would go down. You’d been hoping for this moment since the school trip was announced, since you had handed over the money for it, and maybe even before that. You’d imagined a thousand different scenarios, but this one, the one that was actually happening, felt like the culmination of all your daydreams.

Trying to play it cool, you glanced around the circle, pretending to consider your options. Then you said it, almost too casually, “I choose Alex.”

A few giggles erupted from the group, and all eyes turned to him. Alex felt a surge of panic mixed with a strange thrill. He hadn’t expected this, though he wasn’t exactly surprised. Still, his mouth moved before his brain could catch up.

“We’re playing truth or dare, not seven minutes in heaven.” he blurted out, his voice sharper than intended. His stomach churned, not from the alcohol this time, but from the idea of being alone with you in such close quarters. He didn’t trust himself, didn’t trust the feelings bubbling up inside him, feelings he’d tried to push down all night. And yet, he wanted it. He wanted it more than anything.

“Oh, come on, Smarty.” you teased, using the nickname you’d given him months ago. The room erupted in encouragement, the others egging him on, caught up in the game’s momentum.

There was no way out, and a part of him didn’t want one. He let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and gave a small, reluctant nod.

The group whooped in approval, and before he knew it, he was being ushered towards the nearest private space they could find. But just as they reached the bathroom door, the sound of retching hit their ears. Someone was already inside, clearly not handling the night’s drinks too well. The excitement deflated slightly, as the group exchanged glances, a mix of disappointment and mild disgust settling over them.

“Guess the bathroom’s out of the question.” someone muttered, and there was a murmur of agreement as everyone took a step back, the mood wavering for a moment.

Alex glanced at you, catching your eye as the others started to lose interest and began discussing where the game should go next. With a quick breath, he leaned in close, his voice low enough that only you could hear, “You wanna go to my room then, or...?”

The suggestion hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken possibilities. You met his gaze and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

As you and Alex tried to slip away quietly out of the room, you couldn’t resist glancing back at Dee. She had been keeping an eye on you all night, and you knew she would be watching now, looking for some kind of signal. You caught her gaze from across the room, and without saying a word, you gave her a look. The look. The unmistakable “this is happening” look.

Her eyes lit up in response, her lips curling into a knowing grin. She gave a quick nod, her approval clear. She knew how much you’d wanted this, how long you’d been waiting for a moment like this with Alex. Her look said it all: “Go for it.”

This was really happening.

His room wasn’t far, just across the hall from where you’d all been playing the game. That was actually your room, the biggest one on this floor, and now you remembered you’d been assigned to it when you first arrived. It had taken you by surprise that you’d ended up in the room where all the action seemed to gather, but now it felt almost like fate.

The door creaked softly as Alex pushed it open, and the two of you stumbled slightly as you crossed the threshold, the lingering effects of the alcohol making everything feel just a bit off balance. Inside, the room was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a streetlamp filtering through the thin curtains. The bed, one double bed that Alex was supposed to share with another guy for the trip, sat in the middle of the room, looking oddly inviting despite the circumstances.

He moved first, sitting down on the edge, and you followed, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. The quiet of the room wrapped around you both, the sounds of the party right outside muffled now, leaving just the two of you in this small, private bubble. There was no need for words. The situation spoke for itself.

You turned towards him, catching his eye again, and the question that had been burning in the back of your mind was written all over your face: “Wanna make out?”

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, Alex licked his lips, a nervous, almost instinctual gesture, and leaned in closer. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he closed the gap between you, his lips brushing yours in a hesitant kiss.

It started slow, as if you were both testing the waters, figuring out the rhythm and flow. But then something clicked, and the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more real. Your hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Time seemed to blur as you lost yourselves in each other, the awkwardness of the situation fading away, replaced by the heady rush of being young and alive and caught up in the moment. The bed creaked beneath you as you shifted closer, the space between you disappearing until there was nothing left but the heat of his body against yours.

Nothing outside that room mattered anymore. Not the group of friends who had pushed you together, not the games or the dares or the consequences waiting for you tomorrow. All that mattered was here, now, the taste of his lips on yours and the way his hands felt as they pulled you closer, pulling you in a reality that, for just a little while, was only yours.

The kiss grew more intense, the initial hesitancy giving way to something almost desperate, something that had been building up in both of you for what felt like forever. You shifted on the bed, swinging your leg over to straddle him, your movements a little uncoordinated from the vodka still buzzing in your veins. Alex responded instinctively, his hands sliding down to grip your hips, holding you in place as you settled onto his lap.

He shuffled back on the bed, the springs creaking under the sudden shift, until his bare back hit the wall. The rough texture of the poorly painted surface scraped against his skin, but he hardly noticed, too lost in the heat of the moment, too focused on the way your body pressed against his, the closeness of it all.

You leaned in, deepening the kiss even further, almost as if you were trying to devour him, to make up for all the time you’d spent just imagining this. His lips were soft, and his breath came in shallow gasps between kisses, but there was an urgency in the way he moved against you, like he’d been waiting for this just as long as you had.

Alex was a good kisser. You’d suspected as much after staring at his lips for what felt like ages, wondering what it would be like to have them on yours. Now, reality was proving to be even better than fantasy. The taste of him, the way his lips moved in sync with yours, how he seemed to know just when to pull back and when to dive in again. It was everything you’d hoped for and more.

His nose bumped into yours as you both tried to find the right angle, and your teeth clashed together with a sharp, jarring click. It should’ve hurt, should’ve been awkward, but it wasn’t. It only made you both more eager, more desperate to keep going. Alex could’ve bitten your lip clean off, and you wouldn’t have cared. The alcohol would’ve dulled the sting. It made everything feel a little fuzzy around the edges, and besides, his tongue was already in your mouth, exploring, tasting, claiming.

Your hands were in his hair, tugging lightly, and he groaned softly in response, the sound vibrating through your body, igniting something deep inside you. The way he kissed you, firm, yet somehow gentle, like he was pouring all the things he couldn’t say into that one connection, made you want to melt right there in his arms.

The heat between you was almost overwhelming, the air in the room thick with the scent of sweat and cheap vodka, but neither of you cared. All that mattered was the feel of his body beneath yours, the way he seemed to fit against you perfectly, the way his hands roamed up your back, pulling you even closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

The past, the future, none of it mattered. All that existed was now, the taste of his lips on yours, the feel of his skin under your fingertips, and the way you both moved together, lost in the drunken haze of it.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you thought you heard the door creak open. It was a faint sound, barely registering over the rush of blood in your ears and the muffled beat of music still playing in the distance. You were too wrapped up in Alex, too absorbed in the way he made you feel, to care whether it was real or just your imagination.

But then, more sounds started filtering through. Voices. Excited, disbelieving, and unmistakably familiar. They broke into the bubble you’d created around yourselves.

“Oh my god!” one voice squealed, a mix of shock and glee, and then another, louder one: “Shut uppp! Is that Turner?” someone else hissed, their tone somewhere between amused and scandalised.

The realization hit you like a bucket of cold water, but before you could fully react, a louder, more authoritative voice cut through the growing chatter. “Seven minutes are up!”

Dee.

You recognized her voice instantly, but you still didn’t pull away. Neither did Alex. His hand, which had somehow found its way to your ass during the heat of the moment, stayed right where it was, gripping you. The interruption barely registered for either of you, the kiss still going strong despite the growing commotion at the door.

Annoyance flared up inside you. How could they ruin this moment? Without even breaking the kiss, you reached to your left, your fingers finding the edge of a pillow. You grabbed it and, without looking, hurled it in the direction of the door. You didn’t care if it hit someone or just flopped uselessly to the floor. You just wanted them to get the hint and leave.

The pillow made a soft thud, followed by a chorus of giggles and a few more muffled exclamations. The door creaked again, this time closing with a finality that made you believe they’d actually taken the hint. You could still hear the echo of Dee’s laughter, but it was fading now, becoming part of the background noise, just another element of the night that you could forget about.

As soon as you were alone again, the tension melted back into the room, the heat between you two reigniting. The interruption had done nothing to dampen whatever was simmering between you. If anything, it made you more determined to reclaim the moment.

Alex’s hand flexed on your ass, pulling you closer, reminding you that you were still here, still together, still in this. His lips moved against yours, softer now, but no less insistent, like he was savouring the taste of you. You responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair again, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth, sending a shiver down your spine.

You were still in control, still straddling him, but the way he kissed you back, hungry, desperate, like he couldn’t get enough, made you feel like you were the one who was losing ground, who was being swept away in the tide of emotions that you could barely understand, let alone control.

Alex’s lips finally broke away from yours, and he sucked in a ragged, desperate gasp. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath and steady himself, his mouth previously too preoccupied by yours to do its actual job and his nose so squished up against your face it was utterly useless. He blinked up at you, dazed, like he was still trying to process everything that had just happened. His lips were swollen and tinged pink from the intensity of the kiss, and for a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief.

“You’re pretty.” he managed to say, his voice barely more than a whisper, low and a little hoarse, but it was enough to make your heart skip a beat. The words tumbled out almost unthinkingly, but they were sincere. In the dim light, with your flushed cheeks and tousled hair, you looked impossibly beautiful to him. His eyes were wide, and if he’d been a cartoon character, there would’ve been hearts floating around his head right then.

You smiled, biting your lip as you leaned in closer. “Pretty enough to suck you off?” you asked, the words slipping out casually, almost like you were asking about the weather.

For a second, it was like someone had hit pause on the world. The haze of lust that had clouded his mind lifted just enough for him to register what you’d said, and he blinked at you in confusion, his brain scrambling to catch up.

“What?” he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

You didn’t hesitate, didn’t even flinch. “Your dick.” you repeated, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Can I suck it?”

His brain short-circuited for a moment. He was sure he must have misheard, that maybe the vodka was playing tricks on his ears. “What?” he asked again, dumbly.

“You’re hard.” you said, your tone matter-of-fact, like you were pointing out something as obvious as the sky being blue.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks. He hadn’t even noticed it himself, too lost in the heat of the moment to register the way his body had responded to you. But now that you’d pointed it out, it was impossible to ignore. He could feel it, the unmistakable pressure straining against his jeans, and more importantly, he knew that you could feel it too. Embarrassment flooded his system, a hot flush creeping up his neck as he realised that you were fully aware of the effect you had on him.

“Oh.” was all he could manage. His eyes flicked down, taking in the way you were straddling him, the way your bodies were pressed so close together that there was no way you hadn’t felt it.

Before he could even think of a response, your hands were already moving to his zipper, fingers working to undo his jeans. His mind was still reeling, trying to process what was happening, but his body reacted instinctively. He didn’t protest, didn’t try to stop you, because how could he? He’d have to be out of his mind to say no to this. The thought of saying no to this, to you, was so ridiculous it didn’t even cross his mind.

It wasn’t like it was his first time getting a blowjob or anything. That had happened a while ago, back when he was still tutoring Jenny. His mind flashed back to her now. Jay, as he used to call her, for reasons he couldn’t quite remember. She’d been his first, the first girl to ever put her mouth on him like this. It had happened during one of those tutoring sessions that were more about anything but tutoring. One thing had led to another, and suddenly their study sessions had turned into something very different. He’d help her with her homework, or just do it for her really, and in return, she’d go down on him. Homework, blowjob, simple as that. A straightforward, almost transactional, arrangement. It had made him feel a little like a slut at first, but he’d gotten over it eventually. They both got what they wanted, so what did it matter?

But this was different. This wasn’t a transactional thing, a quid-pro-quo. This was you, the girl he’d been sneaking glances at for ages, the one he’d been hoping would notice him in the same way he’d noticed you. And now here you were, your hands already sliding his zipper down, your fingers brushing against the growing bulge in his jeans. There was no homework, no transaction, just a burning need that neither of you could ignore.

As you tugged his zipper down, the sound was sharp in the quiet room, and Alex swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t believe this was happening, that you were the one doing this, and that he was about to let you. But your fingers brushed against him and any lingering doubts evaporated, replaced by a singular, overwhelming thought.

He’d be a fucking idiot to say no.

His heart pounded in his chest, so loud he was sure you could hear it, and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He couldn’t think of anything to say, anything that would make sense, so he just let himself fall back into the moment, his breath hitching as your hand found its way inside his jeans.

You were right. He was hard, painfully so now that you were touching him, and he didn’t know how much longer he could hold back the groan building in his throat. His head fell back against the wall, his hands fisting in the sheets as he gave in to the sensations washing over him, and all he could think was that he’d never been more grateful to be here, in this room, with you.

You slid off the bed, the mattress shifting as your weight left it, and knelt down on the floor in front of him. The carpet was rough against your knees, but you barely noticed, too focused on what was about to happen. Alex shifted to the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide and his jeans hanging open, pushed down just enough to free his erection. He leaned back on his arms, eyes locked on you, his mouth slightly open, still processing the reality of what you were about to do.

His mind was spinning, a chaotic mix of arousal and disbelief. It was like a fever dream, the kind that felt so real you almost didn’t want to wake up, and his body was caught up in the heat of it, his cock throbbing with need. He could feel it, how hard he was, how desperate, and the way you were looking at him only made it worse. Every nerve in his body was screaming for attention and you were the only one who could give it to him.

“Fuck.” he breathed out, the word slipping from his lips before he could even think. It was all he could say, all he could think. The anticipation was killing him, the seconds stretching out as your lips hovered just above his tip, your breath warm against him.

And then, finally, you kissed the tip of his cock, a soft, teasing brush of your lips that sent a jolt of pleasure through his entire body. His breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as the sensation washed over him. But it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. His body was screaming for more, and before he could stop himself, his hand was in your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he pushed you down.

If he had been sober, he might have hesitated, might have been more careful, more considerate. But the alcohol had stripped away his inhibitions, leaving nothing but raw need. You were offering yourself to him, and he couldn’t take any teasing, any slow build-up. He needed you. Needed your mouth, your touch, everything you were willing to give him. And he needed it now.

You didn’t resist, letting him guide you down, taking him deeper into your mouth. The feeling of your lips wrapped around him, your tongue flicking against the sensitive underside of his shaft, was almost too much to handle. A low groan escaped him, his head falling back as his hips jerked forward involuntarily, pushing himself further into your mouth.

“Fuck…” he breathed again, the word barely audible this time, more of a gasp than anything. His mind was reeling, lost in the sensation, in the way your mouth felt so fucking good around him. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. Feel the way you were sucking him, the way your tongue moved against him, the wet heat of your mouth driving him closer and closer.

His grip on your hair tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep you in place, to keep you exactly where he needed you. He knew he was being rough, knew that he was taking more than he was giving, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was too far gone, too wrapped up in the haze of lust and alcohol to care about anything other than the mind-blowing pleasure you were giving him.

Every time you took him deeper, he felt like he was going to lose it, like he was about to explode. His hips kept moving, his body acting on instinct, chasing the high, the release that was building up inside him with every passing second. It was overwhelming and he couldn’t get enough.

His breath was coming in ragged gasps now, his chest heaving as he fought to hold on, to make this moment last as long as possible. But it was a losing battle, and he knew it. The way you were sucking him, the way your mouth moved around him, it was too much, too perfect, and he was too close.

As if all the tension inside him snapped at once, Alex came hard into your mouth, without any warning. No groan of impending release, no frantic grip on your hair, not even a gasp. It was sudden, almost catching him by surprise as much as it did you. The warm, salty taste of his cum flooded your mouth, thick and overwhelming. For a brief moment, you savoured it, the taste of him mixed with the heat of the moment.

But then, as the reality of it set in, something shifted inside you. The warmth of his cum combined with its slimy texture suddenly made your stomach churn violently. The alcohol you’d been drinking all night, which had been simmering quietly in the background, now surged to the forefront, bringing with it a wave of nausea that you couldn’t ignore. Panic gripped you as the sick feeling intensified. The last thing you wanted was to vomit on him. Or anywhere near him for that matter.

Your body moved on instinct. You pulled away from him quickly, a soft gag escaping you as you scrambled to your feet. Without even thinking, you bolted for the bathroom attached to his room, the door banging open as you rushed inside. You barely made it to the toilet in time, spitting out his cum before your body betrayed you, the contents of your stomach following shortly after.

You could hear him in the distance, but his voice was faint, almost like it was coming from another room entirely. Alex was still too dazed, too caught up in the post-orgasmic haze to fully register what was happening.

He heard the sounds coming from the bathroom. Gagging, retching. But his brain was too foggy to process them properly. All he could do was lay there, his body too heavy, his limbs too leaden with exhaustion to move. The alcohol in his own system wasn’t helping either. Every time he thought about getting up, his stomach churned in warning, a reminder that if he got too close to you right now, he’d probably end up puking right alongside you.

So he stayed put, collapsing back onto the bed with a groan. Reality was starting to creep back in, bringing with it the uncomfortable awareness of his surroundings and the mess of the night.

With a sigh, Alex reached down to shove his softening cock back into his jeans. His movements were sluggish, his fingers fumbling with the denim as he tried to pull his jeans back up over his hips. The waistband caught awkwardly, resisting his half-hearted attempts to zip them up. After a moment of struggling, he gave up, leaving the zipper undone.

What was the point, anyway? It didn’t seem worth the effort to fix it. You’d already seen everything there was to see. The thought made his cheeks flush slightly, but it was hard to care too much. The embarrassment that might have flooded him in a sober moment was dulled.

He let his jeans rest loosely around his hips, the zipper gaping open but ignored. Instead, he let himself fall back against the bed, too drained to do much else. He could feel everything sloshing around inside him, the alcohol threatening to come back up if he wasn’t careful. He focused on breathing, slow and steady, willing himself to keep everything down, to avoid joining you in the bathroom for what would be an absolutely humiliating scenario for the both of you.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep. The line between being awake and unconscious blurred until it didn’t matter anymore, the exhaustion pulling him under without a fight. But somewhere in the middle of the night, he stirred, half-aware of the sound of the bathroom door creaking open and the soft shuffling of feet on the carpet.

You returned to bed, your movements careful and hesitant as you slipped back under the covers beside him. You said something, soft, slurred words that he couldn’t quite catch, but that didn’t seem to matter. He heard enough to know you were there, that you hadn’t left. He remembered muttering something back to you, vague words of reassurance or maybe an apology, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he could feel the comforting warmth of your body as you curled up next to him.

In the half-light of the room, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. You fit perfectly against him, your head nestled against his chest. He let out a slow breath, his body relaxing into yours as sleep pulled him under again.

The next morning, Alex woke up with a groan, his body stiff and aching in ways that only a night of drinking could cause. His bare back was yet again pressed uncomfortably against the cold, scratchy wall, and he shifted slightly, trying to ease the discomfort. He felt oddly cramped, pinned in place, but he couldn’t immediately figure out why.

He blinked his eyes open, wincing at the dull light filtering through the curtains. His head throbbed, a steady, painful reminder of the vodka that had fueled the night before. As he tried to move, he realised with a start that there was something, or rather, someone, pressed up against him. His heart skipped a beat as his mind scrambled to piece together the events of the previous night.

Slowly, the fog in his brain began to clear. He looked down and saw you curled up against his chest, your body warm and soft against him. The sight of you there triggered a rush of memories: the games, the kiss, the bathroom, and finally, you coming back to bed and settling in next to him. That much made sense. And it made him smile to himself.

But as his senses sharpened, he realised that there was another body on the other side of you.

Confused, he craned his neck to see over you, and that’s when he spotted his roommate, cramped in the small space beside you, sound asleep. Alex stared at the guy for a long moment, trying to piece together how the hell he’d ended up there. His brain was still too muddled to remember his assigned roommate’s name right now, though he vaguely recalled some conversation about sharing the bed. But that seemed like a lifetime ago.

“What the fuck?” he muttered under his breath, trying to make sense of the situation.

He shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable, but all it did was make the situation even more awkward. His roommate didn’t stir, completely passed out, oblivious to the uncomfortable tension that was making Alex’s skin crawl.

He stared at him, a mix of irritation and disbelief washing over him. Couldn’t he take the hint? He finally had a girl in his bed, for once, and this guy was just sprawled out there, completely oblivious. “Ugh.” he groaned, the frustration slipping out in a low, exasperated sound.

He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the lingering fog in his head. If he wasn’t so hungover, he might’ve had the presence of mind to consider that Oliver, yeah, that was his name, he remembered now, was probably just as plastered as he was, if not more. In that state, it wasn’t like he would’ve noticed or cared about anything happening on the bed.

Still, it didn’t make the situation any less annoying.

Alex shifted again, trying to make more room for himself and you, but the cramped space only amplified the awkwardness. He bit back another groan, forcing himself to stay calm even as his mind raced with frustration. All he wanted was a moment alone with you, a chance to figure out what the hell this night meant, but instead, he was stuck with a third wheel passed out beside him.

Great, he thought, his annoyance bubbling up again. This was definitely not how he pictured the morning after.

But then you stirred beside him, your hand brushing against his chest as you snuggled closer, and his annoyance faded just a bit.

a/n: last thing i have in my drafts that i like 😓 based on these requests x & x

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

#fetus alex turner #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #goblinontour

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wolveria · 2 months ago

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What We Did on Felucia - Ch 12

Pairing: The Bad Batch x f!Reader

Story Tags: Smut, dubcon, slow burn, sex pollen, eventual polybatch

Chapter Summary:

“With you rigging the game? We’d be down to our skin while you’re still fully clothed.” “Would that be so unpleasant?”

AO3

(Chapter art by @binkyisonline)

You considered visiting the refresher again to clean up, but something you sensed nearby changed your mind: Hunter’s embarrassment and growing panic. But for some odd reason, his brothers weren’t reacting the same way, especially Wrecker. From him, you sensed amusement followed by laughter.

As soon as you entered the private room, you saw why; two women stood near the table, one brunette human and one lavender Twi’lek, both trying to get Hunter’s attention where he sat on the edge of the half-circle bench.

The human put a hand on the cushion above his head and leaned toward him.

“Come on, buy us a drink. None of your friends seem interested, and you’ve been quiet.”

The lavender Twi’lek giggled and said, “I think he’s shy,” and took a lock of his hair, twisting it in her fingers.

“I-I’m fine, really,” Hunter stammered, but the two crowded closer. The others continued to watch, all except Crosshair, who was absent. Wrecker grinned wide, but Echo actually looked like he might intervene, and Tech’s curious gaze had settled into a frown at seeing their leader frozen and speechless.

You adjusted the scarf further over your head and put on an unstable gait as you squeezed between the two women, a hazy smile on your face at their offended frowns.

“Oh, excuse me, that’s my seat.”

And you plopped yourself directly into Hunter’s lap.

The expressions on their faces would have been quite funny if you weren’t also worried about drawing undue attention, so when they continued to scowl, you slung an arm around Hunter’s neck and asked sweetly, “Who are your new friends?”

As soon as you sat in his lap, Hunter relaxed under you, one arm going around to support your back.

“They’re, uh… they’re…”

Clearly, he hadn’t paid attention to their names.

The brunette huffed.

“Magdaline and Tarafin. And we were just leaving.”

You stuck out your bottom lip in a pout and asked, “You don’t want to stay and drink with us?”

The lavender Twi’lek, who you guessed was Tarafin, considered the question, appraising you in an appreciative way, but her human companion sneered.

“No, thanks. The options here are… limited.” She looked over the rest of the Batch in what was clearly supposed to be a dismissive gesture.

She turned to leave, and Echo crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“Good luck out there. You’re gonna need it.”

The human gave him a scathing look, but the Twi’lek sent a silent look of apology before her friend dragged her out through the bead curtains.

“That was unfortunate,” Tech said as soon as they were gone.

“No kidding,” added Echo.

Wrecker said, “I thought it was funny!”

“It was not,” Tech answered.

You ignored them and turned to Hunter where you continued to sit sideways in his lap, not seeing any reason to move.

“Are you all right?”

He’d been embarrassed and awkward on the surface, but you’d felt the growing panic underneath, and that was very unlike him. But he looked like himself now, or a very relaxed version of himself, and he closed his eyes when you caressed your fingers through the ends of his hair.

“I am now.”

The longer you stroked his hair, the more you sensed his arousal, and like a chain reaction it sparked off your own, and you drew back your hand. But he kept one arm around your back, and with the other he softly rubbed his thumb across your pulse point.

“Who did this to you?”

By the teasing lilt of his voice, he knew exactly who it was, the culprit’s smell all over you.

“Crosshair. Though he left me… unfinished.”

Hunter chuckled low at that.

“Not very nice of him.”

“As if you’re any better.”

He smiled wide enough to show teeth, and oh, that was a dangerous look. He leaned in further, nudging his nose against the curve of your jaw.

“I’ll make it up to you, unless… you would prefer someone else.”

You shook your head, wanting more than anything for Hunter to finish what was building in your abdomen, and you whispered, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s not just the alcohol. I need… I have to be touched. And it’s becoming more difficult to ignore.”

Hunter groaned.

“You can’t just say things like that.”

Again, you sensed the struggle of him trying to restrain his own desire, and it made you wonder. From what the others had told you and what you’d just seen, Hunter was avoidant with people who showed interest in him. Had he always been like that? If he’d never had that kind of physical intimacy before, had Felucia been his only experience?

Were you his first?

The very thought of it buckled some of your restraint, and you ducked your head down and pressed your mouth to his neck right where the body suit ended. Hunter breathed out your name in a low, unsteady warning, and you sensed the sudden attention of the others but found you didn’t mind.

You alternated between licking and sucking his skin, remembering how it felt when Tech and Crosshair had done it to you. His taste on your tongue a heady mixture, you pressed as close as you could, shifting on his lap. Hunter moaned a quiet, “Fuck,” and you might have felt a flush of pride at getting his control to slip if your own wasn’t also on a cliff edge.

“So, we gonna play a hand, or what?” Echo didn’t sound particularly interested in card games, and a silky voice answered him.

“I’m quite enjoying the view.”

You peeked out to find Crosshair watching with a smirk and a lack of shame. He was also holding two large pints in his hands, the top half of them a silver liquid while the lower half was a strange, crimson slush.

“Is that our drink?!” Wrecker boomed, and at your questioning look, he added, “It’s the Bad Batch, named after us! No one else seems to order it though.”

Echo made a face.

“That’s because it’s practically rocket fuel and syrup.”

“It’s… an acquired taste,” Hunter said.

“Yeah, like us! Did you bring me one?”

Crosshair rolled his eyes, but there was a small smirk on his lips.

“It seems I did.” He passed Wrecker one of the pints, who made a happy noise at the arrival of the drink, and then Crosshair gave Hunter a look that said he was already annoyed. “Are you going to move?”

“No.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and stepped onto the table, easily done with his long legs and height, drawing dirty looks from Tech and Echo as he walked across the surface and set himself on Hunter’s other side.

“Looks like we’re sharing this one,” Crosshair mused, passing the pint to you, and you gave its constant bubbles and thick consistency a dubious look.

“I really shouldn’t.”

“Just a taste.”

It truly was unfair how he could drop his voice like that and make everything sound like a damn invitation to bed.

“Come on, it’s tradition!” Wrecker took a deep swig of his drink, and then held out the remaining half to Echo. The silver and red parts of the drink somehow kept from mixing, and Echo gave it a sniff that was just as suspicious as you felt. It must have been his first time drinking this monstrosity too.

Echo sighed and looked at you, his expression one of defeat.

“Together?”

You took the glass in front of you and raised it in a mock toast.

“To your health.”

Echo grinned and said, “For the next couple of seconds, anyway.”

You took the first gulp and fought not to cough it back up. A mixture of sweet syrup and alcoholic fuel slammed into your sinuses. You got exactly two mouthfuls swallowed before you put the glass down, your face pinched as tears filled your vision.

Echo was no better, grabbing the nearest glass of water as the heat hit his tongue. You understood why a second later, your entire mouth on fire, and you grabbed a handful of nearby crackers and shoved them into your mouth.

Wrecker guffawed so hard there were tears in his eyes, and Hunter chuckled while Crosshair grinned. Even Tech’s subtle smirk made an appearance.

“This is a prank, right?” you said, wiping your mouth dry after you gulped down an entire glass of water. It was, quite possibly, the foulest thing you’d ever put in your mouth.

“Afraid not.” Tech took the glass from Echo next and swallowed down a mouthful, his eyes watering behind his goggles.

“That’s the most atrocious thing I’ve ever tasted,” Echo said, appropriately echoing your sentiments. “And I’ve swallowed pure bacta.”

Crosshair took your glass, drank several swallows, and didn’t even have the decency to make a face as he wiped his lips.

“Lightweights.”

To your surprise, he handed the glass to Hunter next, and you watched as he chugged the remainder of the drink.

“Pure bacta is nothing compared to some of Tech’s cooking,” he said once he had finished, and like Crosshair, Hunter didn’t seem bothered by the toxic drink. You were more than a little concerned what they used to eat before you joined.

Tech glared at him.

“My cooking is sufficient.”

“Your cooking is a crime against the Galactic Republic,” Crosshair drawled.

“Surely, you’re exaggerating,” you said, unable to believe Tech was actually bad at anything.

“They are. Wrecker eats all of my concoctions.”

Wrecker rubbed the back of his head.

“I mean, I did have to hold my nose, but…”

Crosshair snickered, and Echo turned to Tech, his frown also disbelieving.

“I’ve seen you reassemble a hyperdrive from scratch. How could you possibly screw up a recipe that badly?”

“Because he doesn’t follow the recipe,” Hunter explained. “He improvises.”

Tech held up a finger.

“Improve. I improve the recipe.”

“He was banned from culinary duty a long time ago,” Crosshair said as he pushed a toothpick between his lips.

“Well, the next time you get the chance to make something, I’ll eat it.”

Tech’s eyes sparkled.

“That is quite the motivation, darling.”

You wondered exactly what you’d gotten yourself into.

Echo finally got them to start a game of sabacc, which you were convinced to join. After three winning hands in a row, they argued over how you were “rigging” the game, so you offered to stop playing and instead predict the winner before each game. You were right every time.

At some point, you’d been moved from Hunter’s lap to Crosshair’s, though your legs were still stretched across Hunter. He’d pulled off your boots and was currently massaging your legs over your body glove. Your head rested on Crosshair’s shoulder, and you spent your eyes more closed than open as you played his hand for him.

Crosshair watched your cards with curious scrutiny, one hand resting on top of your thigh, fingertips lightly tracing patterns while the other lay curled around your hip. You could fall asleep like this, and you were still winning hands.

“Well,” Crosshair said, “you’re not counting cards.”

“No.”

“Then how are you able to win every hand or predict the winner each game?” You could sense Tech’s irritation that he hadn’t been able to figure it out yet, and you smiled a little.

“As the Force wills it.”

They all made various groans and faces, except for Hunter who smiled, and Crosshair just rolled his eyes.

“So that’s why none of our brothers will play against their generals more than once,” Echo mused. You nodded, though the room spinning made you regret doing so.

“It’s not wise to bet against a Jedi.”

“But it’s a good way to earn credits!” Wrecker pointed out with a grin. “Next time we go to Nar Shaddaa, we’re gonna take you to the casinos.”

Next time?!

“And then the Hutts would put bounties on us all,” Tech said, and Wrecker waved him off.

“Those space slugs don’t scare me!”

“You’ve never met a Hutt,” Echo said, making a face.

“The Hutts should worry more about Wrecker. Slather them in butter sauce and sprinkle them with garnish…” Crosshair glanced sideways at Tech, a little smirk forming on his lips. “Well, Wrecker has eaten uglier things—”

“No, no,” Tech interrupted. “No more slights against my cooking.”

Now along with the spinning room thanks to the buzz of alcohol in your veins, you now had another image in your head, and you groaned and laughed as you rubbed your forehead.

“Please, I don’t want to imagine Wrecker trying to eat a Hutt.”

Hunter squeezed your leg in commiseration, but Crosshair purred, “We could give you better things to imagine. How about… strip sabacc?”

“Hell yeah!”

Wrecker was fully on board, but you frowned at the idea.

“I thought the point was to hide my identity. How does removing my clothing help with that?”

Crosshair raised his brows in feigned shock.

“Are you saying the regs would recognize you naked?” He leaned close so only you could hear him say, “Those fur patterns are striking. Like someone painted their fingers all over your body.”

You closed your eyes and drew in a breath, and Hunter cleared his throat. Oh, right, he could hear too.

“I’m not saying no,” you said, louder so the rest of the squad could listen. “Just… not here. Perhaps… your barracks?”

You sensed interest from the others, but Crosshair narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“With you rigging the game? We’d be down to our skin while you’re still fully clothed.”

“Would that be so unpleasant?”

You moved your hand to the back of his neck, fingers running through his short hair, and his eyelids fluttered in response. He snatched your hand and pulled it forward, but he didn’t let it go, instead tracing your fingers with his longer ones.

“Not if we still got to have fun with you.”

You attempted to think of a retort, but your mind was fuzzy and your body pleasantly warm, and Crosshair playing with your hand made both of those things worse. The others were watching the two of you, game forgotten, and even Hunter had stopped massaging your legs. You swallowed.

“If that sounds appealing to the rest of you, I would… like that.”

“Group strip sabacc?! Man, I wish we were on Kamino right now.”

“Are you feeling well?” Tech reached a hand toward Wrecker’s forehead, where it was smacked away before it could make contact.

Echo ignored them and said, “Sounds great, if the rest of you would actually help me clean up the place. I’m not getting nude around all those sharp, rusty engine parts.”

“You’ve been naked in our barracks plenty of times!”

Echo gave Wrecker a sour look.

“Yeah, and it’s a health hazard every time.”

Hunter sighed.

“Echo’s right. No strip sabacc until we get the room up to code.”

Wrecker groaned in defeat, and Tech said, “With all the wires I’ve commandeered from behind the wall panels, that will not be possible, but we can make it sanitary enough for sexual activity. Probably.”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Crosshair drawled.

You simply watched them from where you rested your head against Crosshair’s shoulder, smiling softly at their comradery. You were glad Felucia hadn’t created any awkward distance between them, and it was difficult to remember a time when you’d been willing to walk away from this. Away from them. More hands of sabacc were played while you chose to watch, and more glasses of Bad Batch were passed around. The more you drank, the more accustomed you grew, and you even found yourself craving more. The namesake was quite appropriate, indeed.

Next Chapter

#what we did on felucia #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch fanfiction #wolveria writes #clone bang 2024

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lilacxquartz · 6 months ago

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— ALL EYES ON YOU —

prison realm (cursed spirit form) x gn!reader

plot: tasked with retrieving the prison realm nothing could have prepared you for what it truly was — themes: body horror, psychological horror, yandere, dark, gender neutral insert, morally grey reader — masterlist • ao3 • part 1 of 3 • part 2 >

a/n: short little series for an imagine, had this idea going for a while. it’s very niche, but essentially the prison realm is personified and is eerily attached to the reader. heavy on canon divergence. we work for the brain in this one, so platonic interactions only.

Chapter 1. Retrieval

The dull hum of the fluorescent lamp hanging just above was harsh and relentless, fully preventing you from zoning out of your boss’s monotonous drawl. Their study was sterile, basking you both in a pale clinical blue glow as they sat right across you with their nose buried in a book, barely taking the time to address you directly. You were too used to it by now though, finding their quirks to be almost expected of someone who had lived through a hundred lifetimes.

Their voice, ever silken and perhaps a touch venomous, continued to just barely regard you, “I’ll trust that you’ll find it then, won’t you?”

Your assignment was to locate the prison realm and then to bring it back; a simple retrieval mission on paper, but you knew it was far from easy.

You held your tongue between your teeth, biting back the sass you wanted to let slip. This mission wasn’t a request—it wasn’t something that you could just decline, otherwise they wouldn’t invite you into their personal study—this was a task. A command. Your will was incidental to the outcome no matter any protests you may have had.

Releasing a measured breath, you let a smile loose. “Of course.”

Kenjaku’s gaze then drifted from the pages and up to you, their eyes lingering for just long enough to make you feel slightly uncomfortable, smiling for a brief moment before then closing the book. “I’m glad,” they praised, genuinely thankful for a competent assistant in this era. Such things varied by the decades, after all. They then turned away, dismissing you with the flick of their hand, their attention snatched away by whatever thought crept into their focus, brushing you away all the same with the same indifference they applied for everything else.

You were just the cog in their machine, so as long as you worked, that’s all it was.

It wasn’t something you particularly minded though, finding their arrogance easy to deal with, at least most of the time. You didn’t have the luxury of complaining all too much, especially given your misaligned path in jujutsu society.

For the most part, your boss was transparent—it would all be for a reason, and truth be told, you were just as curious about the merger as they were.

~~~

Their instructions on how to retrieve such an object had landed you deep into Tengen’s territory. Getting to such a place was surely an experience though; the long and winding labyrinth to such a place already slightly exhausting you. No matter, you would slip in and out—nobody would even notice that you were ever there—nor that something vital was ever gone. Not right away, at least.

The barrier around the vicinity pulsed with the thrumming aura of something real—perhaps even living. The sensation left you feeling on edge as a result, finding that the air felt thicker here—almost tight and oppressive—vibrating with an energy that churned against the laws of reality.

Although, it didn’t matter in the end.

Such obstacles were just that—obstacles—you have dealt with worse before.

Taking a deep breath, you reached forward, extending your pointed fingers as though an invisible web orchestrated by your very own hands; lacing the digits through the tension that hung heavy in the air.

This was what you were good for.

Your cursed technique was a subtle, almost insidious little thing that could be seldom detected. Perhaps your only weakness—like for many—would be the six eyes user, but he wasn’t here, and by some luck, would be soon sealed come October. The world otherwise for now sat dormant right at your touch like an empty canvas, even if partially filled out, bare and begging for the finer details to be painted in. You merely adjusted the application of the strokes, altering your intentions with those around you—pushing past their wariness, their skepticism, their guarded judgment—you overwrote it all, demanding your rightful place.

I belong here, you thought, repeating it in your mind again and again like a swirling mantra. Tengen was tricky to deal with, especially now, years after their failed assimilation of the star plasma vessel which made them even more paranoid, but again, this all didn’t matter. You belonged here whether they accounted for it or not.

Just as was predicted, the barrier eventually gave way and without resistance, too. Tengen wasn’t even aware, so you technically weren’t even an intruder; you weren’t even significant enough to be sensed. For better or for worse, you weren’t even worth noticing.

Just as it should be, though. That was your plan from the very start.

The corridors you were then let into were just as winding and frustrating to navigate, but you pressed on all the same. The interior shifted as you moved through the passageways as if the area was alive—like you were just blood coursing through its veins—traveling through a host like an undetected parasite.

Finding the prison realm wasn’t too difficult of a task, at least. Not when you were so easily let in—like you belonged—like this was all predetermined from the moment you set foot here. Pushing forward, you continued to follow along the faint pull of cursed energy that called out to you like a siren in the deep waters, although, just as you walked, something started to feel off.

It was subtle at first. A faint pressure that squeezed around your skull like blanketing static; hushed whispers that spat warnings into your ears in a language that you didn’t understand. You told yourself at first that this was fine—that it must have been the residue aura of the barrier you had set up before—but no, this wasn’t you, nor was this Tengen. This was the consequence of something deeper. Kenjaku informed you what the prison realm was beforehand, so you were already aware that some unease might have been felt when you got closer to it, but this was different. It was something else.

The walls around you seemed to breathe as you descended deeper, the surfaces rippling through, inhaling—exhaling, pulling the air clean from your lungs. The shadows that clung around the jagged edges of pointed corners and objects alike started to melt away, pooling to mask something otherwise hidden in plain sight—but what?

You tried to convince yourself that this was a countermeasure, that something was messing with you, that this was all in your head. Tengen must have been craftier than you had thought, this must have been a backup they were actively instilling, but even then…

Something settled.

You gulped as your eyes landed on it.

The cube was found at last.

It was just as Kenjaku had described it, too.

It sat on top of a polished altar of obsidian, the sleek finish of the stone reflecting the light in a warm sheen. The hum of the cursed energy thrummed just like before, with all hints of something alive within this labyrinth seeming to isolate into this very room. The vibrations increased and then, almost as if in warning, the pressure in your ears began to hurt, the ache burrowing deep into your bones.

You expected this, though.

Their words prepared you.

(And yet, something felt wrong.)

You pushed back your unease, approaching the cube with a hesitant hand. The breathing increased, shifting from a mere hum to an almost wet, guttural purr. It was an organic sound that churned around in your stomach. Something else changed again. The sound of something stretching—contorting even—like tearing fabric. The smell, too, hit almost raw and bleeding—the unpleasant aroma of rancid butchered meat filling your nostrils.

The air around continued to feel metallic and coppery, yet somehow almost sicky sweet. Where on earth had that wretched fossil sent you off to this time? You paused in your monologuing scolding, becoming irrational with the deep sense of dread that flooded your mind. Fear wasn’t something you were too familiar with given your skillset because you were usually calm no matter the outcome, and yet, you felt like a stranger within the presence of something unfamiliar here.

As if for once, you didn’t belong.

You still took a step closer, though.

Your technique flickered from the very second you did as if waning from the proximity. Kenjaku did reveal to you that this particular cursed object was capable of draining cursed energy, but only for those trapped within it, so the situation you found yourself in, had left you feeling otherwise hesitant. You tried to brute force your technique a second time, trying to override the unsettling sensation of feeling out of place, and for a split second, the perception shifted again, but you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

The hostility faded, but something else remained.

Regardless, you pressed on and snatched the cube, barely stumbling out of the base, clutching the object and keeping it pressed up against your heart. The humming persisted as if following you out of the area, like a gnawing ache.

You hated this thing, keen to blame it for you feeling this way. It was as if you left behind a reflection of yourself in this dreadful place, leaving the chamber feeling emptier than before. Whatever this was, or whatever had happened within the confines of that room, threatened the sanctity of your peace of mind, throwing you off just far enough that you left feeling more doubtful than before.

You felt watched as you carried this thing.

You felt unwelcome again.

And then finally, something within the cube shifted again, trembling with such force that you were forced to drop it from your hands. It jittered around the ground with spasming movements as the walls of the vicinity jerked around into organic spikes with an almost magnetic repulse—eerily organic—like piercing ink. You watched on, unsure of what you were witnessing, as impossible limbs started to snake out of the writhing mass, fleshing out to resemble something more human but also, not quite.

A cursed spirit, perhaps? But wait. That shouldn’t even be possible to begin with. Not with something that started as a cursed object.

The once clean sharp edges of the cube had at last dissolved and a body formed. You backed away on instinct, watching as it unfurled into life, slowly standing up to reveal its gaunt, skeletal form. Muscle slowly filled it out, bleeding into its frame while skin gradually enveloped it, ashen and grey. With a start, dozens of eyes blinked open around its body, all pointing at you. Your heart drummed in your chest all the while as you lost your breath, genuine, real fear gripping you as you watched the once static object morph into something impossible.

As it breathed, the whispering static from before filled your hearing again. A moment of realisation clicked for you at that. Perhaps Tengen was never trying to meddle at all, maybe it was this… thing… jamming the signal all along.

You paused as you looked back at it, not quite liking how it seemed to be watching you.

As if studying you.

In an attempt to distance yourself once more, the prison realm tilted its head curiously, the slow and crooked movements unsettling you even further, especially as its joints creaked when it tried to move.

“Uh,” you barely managed to croak out before continuing, hoping that it would understand you, feeling a bit ridiculous as you spoke, “I—someone has a job for you, I mean no harm—”

It didn’t seem to respond, but as you backed away, it followed you.

Its eyes shifted around, some blinking, some weeping, but ultimately all focusing right on you.

If it was following you without protest though, then you supposed that you could potentially just lead back this thing towards the base of operations, since there was not a single chance in hell that you were going to make contact with this thing again. Especially not after that feeling you experienced from being just a little too close to it. God, you hated this whole thing. You were afraid. You were so fucking afraid, but that arrogant fossil’s voice played in the back of your mind, reminding you that this was a job that you had to complete, otherwise, your return wouldn’t be taken too kindly.

“You’ll bring it, won’t you?”

Letting out a shaky breath, you cursed at them mentally. The world around you felt smaller now as you slowly returned to your senses, thinking that perhaps it was doing something weird to your mind, or maybe not—no matter either way—you needed to focus.

Slowly, you coaxed it out, seeming unnerved by its distant focus, not quite liking how it continued to stare at you. The way that it followed you seemed so genuine too, as if interested in you, but in a way that felt completely wrong. Your cursed energy faltered whenever it got too close though, so you kept having to maintain a good distance away from it, not wanting to find out what would happen should you let down your guard completely.

Once again, you forced your technique to come out, begging for it to see you as someone neutral, and hopefully unimposing enough that it no longer saw you as a threat, pressing it out again and again, in radiating waves of sheer will, until finally, something shifted again.

The atmosphere changed and it seemed to still its approach, suddenly no longer trying to close the gap with you completely, seeming instead almost content to retain a good distance away. For a brief moment from that point on, you found relief, but then as if on queue, something changed yet again.

The hum of its cursed energy intensified with a start, the oppressive aura around it seeming almost inviting—alluring even—its towering form shrugging into something casual instead and far less intimidating. The eyes that surrounded it all blinked shut, save for the two on its face, smoothing its appearance to look more human.

“You’re friendly, right?” you asked it, nervously laughing to comfort yourself.

It didn’t speak, though. Of course it didn’t.

The weight of its newfound focus left something else in its wake though, something that you didn’t want to even begin to understand.

You would get this thing back to Kenjaku as soon as you could, that much was your number one priority right now. That and getting away from it as soon as you could.

Before it got too close to you.

Before it did potentially what it was designed to do.

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zenfulslumber · 10 months ago

Text

Ripple Effect

─── Woosan ───

「Wordcount: 5,922」 ─ 「NSFW - MDNI」

「San had been excited to try the milk bath photography session Wooyoung told him about. He never minded being Wooyoung’s test model. Until Wooyoung showed up in a skirt.」

「Content:」

─ Top San, bottom Wooyoung

─ Sudden erection, handjobs, anal sex, mild pet names, riding.

— Masterlist | Tip Jar | Commission Me —

San inhaled deeply as he sat in the shallow pool, the warm water lapping at his chest. The surface was cloudy, opaque with the white mixture they’d used to create the "milk bath" effect. His soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to his skin, heavy with water, but it was Wooyoung’s presence that weighed on him more than anything. The rhythmic click of the camera had been his only companion for the past few minutes, but the room was thick with an unspoken tension.

The concept was simple enough — a creative, sensual photoshoot with the aesthetic so many seemed to like these days, Wooyoung especially. And who was he to say no to his darling Wooyoung when he asked if San would help him experiment with his photography? It was a harmless concept after all, or so San had thought. Until Wooyoung showed up in that outfit.

The moment Wooyoung entered the studio, San’s focus had started to drift. Wooyoung wore a long, flowing skirt, its fabric loose and airy, brushing just above his knees as he moved gracefully around the edge of the pool. He also had his long, dark hair down, framing his beautiful face in soft waves, accenting his sharp jawline in a way that made San’s breath catch every time he glanced over. It was just so... effortless, and yet it did things to San’s insides that were anything but simple.

"Turn your head a little," Wooyoung instructed from behind the lens, his voice soft, barely carrying over the gentle rippling of the water. San obeyed automatically as he always did with Wooyoung, his neck stiff as he tried to avoid meeting Wooyoung’s eyes directly. He could feel those dark, gorgeous eyes on him, studying him — no, admiring him.

Every shutter click sent a jolt through him, making his skin prickle. It should have felt normal. After all, they’d done photoshoots together with San being his test model countless times. But this... this felt different. The way Wooyoung lingered behind the camera, his gaze too intense, too focused on every detail of San’s body, made him hyper-aware of how vulnerable he felt.

His heart beat faster. His muscles tensed as he shifted slightly in the water, trying to keep his composure. Yet every time his eyes flickered up to Wooyoung, he caught himself staring — staring at the way that skirt brushed against his thighs when he moved, at the way his lips curved in concentration, at the slight smirk Wooyoung wore as if he knew exactly what San was thinking.

"Perfect, San," Wooyoung praised, looking through the camera as he snapped another picture. "You’re looking great."

San swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten. He knew he was supposed to feel flattered, but every word out of Wooyoung’s mouth sounded... suggestive. His mind was playing tricks on him, surely. They were friends, best friends. There had always been flirtations, harmless teasing between them. But lately, it had started to feel like something else — something deep down San knew he always wanted.

The water swirled as San shifted again, uncomfortable in more ways than one. The wet fabric of his pants clung to his thighs, and the growing tightness below his waist wasn’t lost on him. He cursed inwardly, his pulse quickening as the pressure built. The warmth and colour of the water only made things worse, amplifying sensations he’d been desperately trying to suppress.

Wooyoung lowered the camera, tilting his head slightly as he observed San, his gaze sweeping over him in a way that felt far more intimate than professional. "You okay?" Wooyoung asked, voice low and teasing.

This fucker knows. He always knows.

San’s cheeks flushed at the question. There was no way Wooyoung didn’t notice. How could he not ? San had never been good at hiding his emotions — let alone something as blatantly obvious as this. Wooyoung of all people knew when he was lying about being fine anyway.

He shifted uncomfortably again, the water barely covering the evidence of his arousal. He bit down on his lower lip, trying to think of an excuse. Anything that would deflect from what was happening.

"Y-Yeah, just... the water," San mumbled, his voice betraying him as it cracked slightly.

Wooyoung’s eyes flickered with amusement, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Just the water, huh?"

Bastard. San cursed under his breath, feeling heat rise from his neck to his ears. There was no hiding it. Wooyoung’s gaze had already wandered down, his smirk deepening as he looked back up at San, eyes full of something that made San’s stomach twist into knots. The way Wooyoung was looking at him — it wasn’t just teasing. There was something deeper, something hungrier.

In his delusional state, San could only hope this wasn’t a cruel joke by Wooyoung.

San swallowed again, his throat dry despite the humidity in the room. He could feel the water shifting around him, the warm liquid lapping against his skin as if mocking his predicament. It wasn’t just the water, and they both knew it.

Without a word, Wooyoung set the camera aside on a nearby stool, his movements slow and deliberate. San watched him, wide-eyed, as he stepped closer to the edge of the pool, the soft fabric of his skirt brushing against his legs as he moved. Every step seemed calculated, purposeful, and San’s heart pounded in his chest, knowing that whatever was about to happen, there was no stopping it.

Wooyoung crouched at the pool's edge, his long hair falling over his eyes as he leaned in closer to San, their faces now only inches apart. San’s breath hitched again, his hands clenched into fists beneath the water, trying to keep control. He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, each beat echoing the tension between them.

"Sannie," Wooyoung purred softly, sending a shiver down San’s spine. "You don’t have to be embarrassed."

San’s eyes flickered up to meet Wooyoung’s, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. The look Wooyoung was giving him wasn’t one of mockery or teasing. It was far too dangerous to be a joke anymore — and it made San’s entire body tense with anticipation.

Before San could even think of a response, Wooyoung slid effortlessly into the pool, the water splashing lightly as his skirt fanned out around him. The warm liquid rippled around them, and San felt his entire body freeze as Wooyoung’s weight settled on his lap.

San’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse thundering as Wooyoung lowered himself right onto San’s painfully apparent erection. The water sloshed softly around them, the warmth only intensifying the sensation of Wooyoung’s weight pressed against him. For a long, agonising second, neither of them moved. San didn’t dare breathe, his mind reeling with the shock of what was happening. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here, but now, with Wooyoung in his lap, the boundary between them had been crossed and there was no going back.

The wet fabric of Wooyoung’s skirt floated lightly on the water’s surface, but where their bodies met, it clung tightly, plastered to his skin. San could feel every shift, every subtle movement of Wooyoung’s hips as he adjusted his position. The pressure in San’s pants grew unbearable, and he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, but the heat in his core had already taken over.

Wooyoung’s hands slid up San’s chest slowly, his fingers tracing the damp fabric of his shirt, and San sucked in a sharp breath. He couldn’t stop himself from staring at Wooyoung’s face — the way his lips curled ever so slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes that told San this had been intentional all along.

“Wooyoung,” San whispered, his voice hoarse, his hands hovering in the water, unsure of where to place them. He could barely form a coherent thought, his mind buzzing with a mixture of panic and desire. “What are you...”

Wooyoung leaned in closer, cutting off his words. “What am I doing?” he repeated, his lips ghosting over the shell of San’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Isn’t it obvious?” There was a dangerous edge to his voice, low and sultry, and it made San’s entire body tense.

“But your skirt-” San halfheartedly protested, quickly hushed by the other.

“It’s just water, it’ll dry.”

San swallowed hard, his hands finally landing on Wooyoung’s hips, fingers digging into the wet fabric of his skirt. He could feel the softness of Wooyoung’s skin beneath the thin layer of cloth, the warmth radiating between them. His mind screamed at him to stop, to regain control of the situation before it spiralled any further out of his hands, but his body had already made the decision for him.

Wooyoung’s hands moved higher, sliding up to San’s shoulders before tangling in the wet strands of his hair. San’s breath stuttered as Wooyoung’s hips shifted again, just enough to send a jolt of pleasure shooting through him. He couldn’t help the low groan that escaped his lips, his grip on Wooyoung tightening.

“God, San, relax,” Wooyoung whispered, trying to keep his giggles at bay. “You’re so tense.”

San let out a shaky laugh, his fingers tightening against Wooyoung’s hips. “It’s not that easy,” he muttered, his voice thick with the effort of keeping himself together. His eyes darted to Wooyoung’s lips, hovering just inches away, teasingly close. The tension between them was unbearable, a live wire waiting to snap.

He must be dreaming.

Wooyoung’s lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned in even closer, his breath hot against San’s cheek, then his ear. “Why not?” he murmured. “We’ve both been waiting for this, haven’t we?”

San’s heart skipped a beat. He wanted to deny it, to laugh it off as some kind of misunderstanding, but Wooyoung yet again did what only Woooyung could do — read his deepest thoughts as if he was an open book. We’ve both been waiting for this. The truth of it settled deep in his chest, and for the first time, San let himself process. Wooyoung wanted it too. It should’ve been obvious; the lingering glances, the playful banter, the way Wooyoung always seemed to get so close, to test the limits of their friendship — it had all been leading to this. San just hadn’t realised it was mutual.

Wooyoung shifted again, his hips rolling slowly against San’s, and his breath hitched as a wave of heat washed over him. He couldn’t stop the way his body responded, couldn’t stop the way his fingers tightened on Wooyoung’s waist, pulling him closer. Needing more.

“Wooyoung,” San whispered again, his voice trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was a plea or a warning, but it didn’t matter. Wooyoung’s lips brushed against his jaw, a featherlight touch that sent another shiver down his spine.

“I want you, San.” Wooyoung whispered, his voice soft but firm, his hands sliding down to rest on San’s chest again. “You don’t have to hold back.”

That was all San needed. In one fluid motion, he closed the distance between them, capturing Wooyoung’s lips in a kiss that was messy, desperate, and full of everything they’d been holding back. The taste of Wooyoung’s lips was intoxicating, soft and slightly sweet, and San groaned into the kiss, his hands pulling Wooyoung impossibly closer as if this would be the last chance they had for this.

Wooyoung responded immediately, his lips parting, letting San deepen the kiss. Their breaths shared the air, hot and heavy, and the water around them splashed lightly as their movements became more frantic, more impatient. San’s heart pounded in his chest, drowning out everything else as the only feeling left was of Wooyoung’s body pressed against his, the warmth of his skin, the softness of his lips.

Wooyoung’s hands slid down to San’s waist, fingers gripping tightly as he rocked his hips forward again, sending another jolt of pleasure through San’s body. San gasped into the kiss, his grip tightening on Wooyoung’s hips, holding him in place as their bodies moved together in perfect sync. It was overwhelming — the heat, the pressure, the intensity of it all — and San’s mind went blank as he gave in completely, letting his body take over.

Their kisses grew more frantic, more desperate, as if they were trying to make up for all the time they’d wasted dancing around each other. San’s hands roamed over Wooyoung’s body, fingers tracing the shape of his ass through the wet fabric, and Wooyoung let out a low, breathless moan that sent a surge of heat straight to San’s core.

“God, Wooyoung,” San breathed against his lips, his voice filled with the overwhelming desire. He wasn’t sure if he was begging for more or trying to catch his breath, but Wooyoung’s lips curved into a smile against his mouth, and San knew he’d won.

“You like this, don’t you?” Wooyoung whispered, his voice teasing as his hands slid down to San’s thighs, gripping them tightly as he rocked forward again. “You like me like this, in a pretty skirt. Just for you.”

San could only respond with a deep, “yes. Fuck, yes I do, Young-ah.” He couldn’t form any other coherent thoughts as his body shuddered beneath Wooyoung’s touch. He was too far gone, lost in the heat of the moment, in the feel of Wooyoung’s body pressed against his, in the electric connection between them. It wasn’t enough, though.

Wooyoung’s lips trailed down San’s neck, leaving a burning trail in their wake, and San tilted his head back, giving him more access. His mind was a haze, his body on fire as Wooyoung’s teeth grazed his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Wooyoung,” San groaned again, his hands tangling in Wooyoung’s hair as he pulled him closer, needing more, needing everything.

His pulse raced, each beat pounding in his ears as Wooyoung’s mouth moved down his neck, teasing, taunting with featherlight kisses and the occasional nip of teeth. The heat between them was unbearable now, burning through San’s self-control like paper to a flame. His hands threaded through Wooyoung’s wet hair, tugging gently, desperate to bring his lips back where he needed them most — closer.

“ San ,” Wooyoung breathed against his skin, lips grazing the curve of his throat before trailing lower. The sensation was maddening. Each brush of his lips left San trembling, gasping softly at the way Wooyoung’s breath felt against his already over-sensitive skin.

The water rippled as Wooyoung shifted in his lap, adjusting his position, his skirt spreading out like a cloud on the milky surface. The fabric clung to them both, making the sensation of every movement amplified. San was hyper-aware of the way Wooyoung’s thighs were pressing against his own, of the way his hips moved just enough to keep the tension between them on the edge of breaking.

“Do you want me to stop?” Wooyoung whispered, lips hovering just above San’s collarbone.

San swallowed hard, barely able to focus through the haze clouding his mind.”No,” he shook his head, his hands tightening in Wooyoung’s hair. “Just let me taste you again,” he pulled him closer, dragging his lips back up to meet his own.

The kiss was fierce, full of raw need that neither of them could contain any longer. San’s lips moved hungrily against Wooyoung’s, tasting the faint sweetness of his lip balm mixed with the intoxicating heat of his mouth. His hands slid down Wooyoung’s back once more, tracing the wet fabric clinging to his skin, feeling the heat of his body through the thin material.

Wooyoung moaned softly into the kiss, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through San’s entire body. His hips bucked involuntarily beneath Wooyoung, a desperate need for more sparking in his veins, and Wooyoung responded in kind, rolling his hips forward again, creating the perfect friction that left San gasping.

“God,” San groaned, his voice low and strained as he broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Wooyoung’s. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, his entire body on fire with a need that burned through his very marrow. “This... this is insane. You’re insane.”

Wooyoung laughed softly, his breath warm against San’s lips. “Maybe,” he said, his voice teasing, playful as ever. But there was something darker beneath it now, something that matched the intensity between them. “But you’re not stopping me.”

San couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him, even though he was too far gone to think clearly. He wasn’t stopping Wooyoung — and he didn’t want to. He wanted more. He wanted everything. Needed it.

“I’m not,” San admitted breathlessly, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands returned to rest on Wooyoung’s waist, fingers gripping the wet fabric of his skirt as he held him in place. He couldn’t hide the need in his voice, couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t exactly what he wanted. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Wooyoung’s eyes darkened, his lips curving into a slow, knowing smile. “Good,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time softer, but no less intense. “Because I wasn’t planning on stopping.”

The kiss deepened again, slower this time, more deliberate, but just as consuming. San lost himself in the feel of Wooyoung’s lips, in the way they moved together, their bodies fitting perfectly as if they were meant to be this close, this intimate.

He was always meant to be mine.

The world around them dissolved into nothing but heat and touch and the sound of their breaths mingling in the humid air. Wooyoung’s hands slid down San’s chest, fingers tracing the soaked fabric of his shirt before tugging at it, slowly peeling it away from his skin. San shuddered as the cool air hit his bare chest, but the warmth of Wooyoung’s hands followed immediately, pressing against his skin, grounding him in the moment.

“San,” Wooyoung whispered against his lips, his hands roaming freely now, exploring the expanse of San’s torso. “You’re so tense. Let go.”

San’s breath hitched, his grip tightening on Wooyoung’s waist as his body responded to every touch, every word. He wanted to let go, but the intensity of it all was overwhelming. His mind spun, unable to catch up with the raw desire coursing through him.

Wooyoung’s fingers danced down his chest, skimming over his stomach before dipping lower, and San’s entire body jerked in response, a sharp gasp tearing from his throat. The sensation was electric, setting his nerves on fire, and his hips lifted instinctively, pressing into Wooyoung’s touch.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on San. “There we go,” he murmured, his lips brushing against San’s ear, sending another shiver down his spine. “Just like that.”

San’s mind went blank, all rational thought was thrown out the window as Wooyoung’s touch consumed him, as their bodies moved together, the water splashing lightly around them, forgotten. The tension between them had broken, but what replaced it was something even more powerful — an overwhelming need that neither of them could ever satiate again.

San’s breath came in ragged gasps, taking his turn to press his lips to Wooyoung’s neck, pulling him closer as their hips ground together, creating a delicious friction that made his entire body tremble. He could hear Wooyoung’s breath hitching, the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips sending San spiralling further into the haze of want that consumed him.

“Wooyoung,” San groaned, his voice strained, his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s hips. His lips, his hands, his body — everything about him was driving San to the edge.

Please,” Wooyoung begged in a whisper, a little pout forming on his lips. San was doomed, he could never say no to pouty Wooyoung. “I need you.”

And with that, San finally gave in, letting the last of his restraint crumble as he pulled Wooyoung closer, their bodies moving together in a slow, heated rhythm that left them both breathless, gasping for more.

Wooyoung’s hands roamed freely over his body, fingertips grazing his skin, sending waves of electricity through San’s veins. His lips hovered just inches away from San’s, teasing, never quite letting their mouths meet fully again, and it drove San wild with need.

San’s grip tightened on Wooyoung’s waist as his head fell back. The heat coursing through his veins, the pressure low in his belly — it was too much, and yet, he couldn’t get enough.

Wooyoung’s kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, as if he was savouring every second, and San felt himself sinking further into the haze of desire, his body responding to Wooyoung’s every move.

When Wooyoung shifted in his lap, pressing down just enough to send another wave of pleasure through San’s body, San let out a low, shaky groan. The friction between them was unbearable, their clothes soaked and sticking to their skin, amplifying the sensation of every movement.

He could barely think anymore. San groaned, his hands tightening on Wooyoung’s waist as he pulled him further down, their bodies crashing together once again. All he wanted was Wooyoung — more of him, closer, deeper.

Wooyoung’s hands moved lower, fingers trailing over San’s torso, leaving a burning trail in their wake. San’s breath hitched as Wooyoung’s hands finally dipped below the water, tracing the waistband of his soaked pants, teasingly slow.

San’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a ragged breath, his mind spinning with the sensation. “Fuck... please,” he gasped, his voice hoarse, barely able to form the words.

Wooyoung’s lips curved into a beautifully mischievous grin, his hands stilling just at the edge of where San needed him most. “Please what?” he feigned innocence, his voice full of teasing amusement. He leaned in closer, lips brushing against San’s ear, sending a fresh wave of shivers down his spine.

San groaned, his hands sliding down to grip Wooyoung’s thighs, his body trembling with anticipation. “Stop teasing,” he growled, his voice low and strained. There was no bite to it, they both knew San would take whatever teasing Wooyoung wanted to provide. He’d still pout about it, though.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, his breath warm against San’s neck as he pressed a soft kiss just below his ear. “I love hearing you beg,” he whispered, his lips barely brushing San’s skin. “But since you asked so nicely...”

Before San could respond, Wooyoung’s hand dipped lower, and the sudden rush of sensation that followed as Wooyoung finally wrapped his hand around San’s cock made his entire body jerk in response. A low, broken moan escaped his lips as his head fell back, his mind blanking out completely. Every touch, every movement sent shockwaves through him, pushing him further and further past the point of no return.

Wooyoung’s breath was hot against his neck, his lips grazing San’s skin with each ragged breath, and the feel of Wooyoung’s body against his was overwhelming, too much and not enough all at once. San’s hand slipped beneath the skirt and roamed over Wooyoung’s thighs, desperate for more, pulling him closer as their bodies moved together in a slow, torturous rhythm that left San trembling.

“God, Wooyoung,” San gasped, his voice rough and breathless. All he could think about was the way Wooyoung’s body felt against his, the way his touch sent sparks of pleasure through his entire being. And how good he’d feel.

Wooyoung’s lips trailed down San’s neck, kissing a path to his collarbone, and San’s breath stuttered, his body arching into Wooyoung’s touch as another wave of pleasure rolled through him.

Each stroke caused a pulse of static to fill San’s brain. He’d spent so many nights thinking about this moment, imagining his own hand as Wooyoung’s and yet it could never compare to how it felt now.

“I’ve got you,” Wooyoung murmured, his voice soft but full of intent, his hands moving with a deliberate slowness that drove San to the brink. “Just let go.”

And San did.

The world blurred around him, nothing but heat and sensation and the feel of Wooyoung’s body against his. He couldn’t hold back any longer, the tension in his body snapping as a rush of pleasure flooded through him, leaving him breathless, trembling, and completely undone. Yet not quite satisfied.

San gasped for air, his fingers digging into Wooyoung’s skin as the aftershocks of the moment rippled through him. Wooyoung’s body was still pressed tightly against his, his breath warm against San’s neck, and for a long moment, neither of them moved, lost in the aftermath of what had just happened.

Slowly, the world came back into focus, the sound of the water gently lapping around them, the warmth of Wooyoung’s breath still fanning across San’s skin. San’s heart pounded in his chest, the weight of what had just happened settling in, but all he could feel was the warmth of Wooyoung’s body, the lingering touch of his lips.

“Are you okay?” Wooyoung whispered softly, his voice now gentle, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments before.

San let out a breathless laugh, his body still buzzing with the aftermath. “Yeah,” he whispered, his voice shaky, but there was a softness to it now. “Yeah, I’m more than okay.”

Wooyoung smiled against his skin, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the corner of San’s mouth. “Good,” he whispered, his hands still resting on San’s chest, as if he didn’t want to let go just yet. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

San laughed, shaking his head. “Yeah? What else have you got?” Despite his uneven breaths he still found it in himself to return the teasing. Even having just come down he could feel the rush of blood in his core again.

Fuck.

Wooyoung barely let him catch his breath before he reached for San’s hand this time, guiding it back up his skirt. “You didn’t find the surprise yet,” he whined with a pout. The surprise?

Excited by whatever the supposed surprise was, San momentarily pushed the thoughts of how painfully hard he still was to let his hands roam beneath Wooyoung’s soaked skirt again. This time, he ventured further — finding the surprise. Wooyoung had gone commando.

San laughed in surprise, a soft groan rising in his throat as he finally felt just how hard the other was too.

Wooyoung grabbed his wrist to stop him momentarily. “No more foreplay, I’ll lose my mind if you don’t fuck me within the next thirty seconds.”

San’s eyes widened a little but he wasn’t about to argue with his precious Wooyoung — Wooyoung on his lap in a skirt asking to ride him, no less. Not a chance.

He couldn’t comply faster, holding himself steady as Wooyoung reached behind himself. A part of him wondered if maybe he should’ve been more insistent on prepping Wooyoung properly but he was in no state to try and be rational. And his thoughts were immediately halted when the other removed his hand again to reveal a cute little plug he’d apparently been hiding away.

San’s breath caught in his throat again, unable to believe he could’ve gone the entire day without knowing about this. “You are insane, Jung Wooyoung.”

That earned him the cutest giggle that sent another flutter into his core. “I know,” Wooyoung wrapped his arm around the back of San’s neck for balance as he positioned himself. “I blame you.”

“Me?” San whined in another pathetic protest of confusion but there was no time to get into a petty argument. Not when he could feel himself slipping into Wooyoung as if he was made for him.

Despite the heat, Wooyoung took his time. San kept his grip on the other’s waist firm to help him, fighting every urge to buck his hips up with all of his might. He was sure he’d drowned in the opaque white water and had gone to heaven because this couldn’t be real.

He was fucking Wooyoung.

“Ah~ San,” Wooyoung whined as he finally dropped all of his weight to rest on San’s lap again. San could barely process his thoughts but instinctively he placed a hand on Wooyoung’s thigh and another on his back — it was his turn to take a little control.

“Wooyoung, you feel so good,” he groaned and began peppering soft kisses to the pretty boy’s jawline. He’d do his best not to mess up his makeup but he’d made no promises. “That’s it, baby. Take it easy, hm?”

Wooyoung only responded with soft whines and breathy giggles with each movement he tried to make. He gave an experimental roll of his hips to which both of them collapsed into each other further.

“You ready?” San nipped at the soft skin of Wooyoung’s ear before dropping his voice. “Gonna fuck you just like you wanted, just like you’ve been waiting for.”

Wooyoung nodded in desperation, rocking his hips as if to hurry San up. “Mhm,” he moaned — gripping onto the fabric of San’s shirt.

San was not convinced he’d last very long at all considering he’d already cum once, but that wasn’t going to stop him coaxing it out of Wooyoung also. He set a slow pace to begin with, using Wooyoung’s hips as leverage to help move him. The whines and whimpers that began spilling out from the other were deliciously intoxicating — it almost saddened him to muffle them with his own lips but they couldn’t risk being too loud.

The water sloshed and rippled around them with every impact of their skin, Wooyoung’s skirt sticking to his thighs. As much as San adored the pretty piece, it was in the way and this position wasn’t working. He shoved the front up towards Wooyoung’s stomach, bunching it a little awkwardly.

Displeased, he took one of Wooyoung’s hands and placed it over his stomach to hold the skirt in place, growling a small “hold” command before he adjusted his position to continue. San pulled back just enough to watch the way the strands of hair fell over Wooyoung’s beautiful face as pleasure overtook his expression.

The sight of Wooyoung’s own cock now bouncing between his own stomach and San’s sent San into a near feral mindset. If he had a spare hand he might’ve considered jerking him in return — but getting his sweet Wooyoung to cum untouched would be so much better.

Leaning back on his hand San fucked up into Wooyoung with a heat he never thought a human being could experience. It was worse than a fever, more intense than an adrenaline rush and crackled throughout him like a freshly lit fire — a desire.

Wooyoung’s sweet sounds grew faster, climbing in pitch which San took to mean he was growing closer and closer to his release. As if he had any control at this point, the sounds alone pushed him further into his insanity that was the pleasure of Wooyoung. Everything about him — lips, hair, hands, cock, it all sent San spinning into a spiral that screamed only one thing. More.

The burn in his thighs didn’t deter San from continuing his pace. Wooyoung was barely able to keep himself upright judging by the way his body swayed and his hand searched for somewhere to steady himself.

“Sannie~” Wooyoung purred, gasping softly as he tried his best to rock his own hips. He’d had the upper hand to begin with but now he was nothing but a whining mess on top of San. And San hadn’t felt a triumph like this in a long time.

He couldn’t hide his smirk even through his own groans and grunts. “That’s it, baby, such a good boy for me. You feel so good… gonna make me cum again.”

Wooyoung let out a gasp in response, falling closer to San like his life depended on taking in the very air San breathed.

San responded immediately — trusting in Wooyoung’s balance to keep himself up — and grabbed a handful of Wooyoung’s long hair at the back of his head to pull him into a sloppy kiss. He didn’t care that their teeth crashed together or that they missed their targets for a good few seconds, he was too close to his euphoria to care.

The only thing he could tell himself was he didn’t want to finish first — it was Wooyoung’s turn. He wanted to see his pretty boy cum, it’s the least he deserved for all the teasing he’d been through.

The way Wooyoung tightened around him gave him the signal to perfect the angle and focus on just the right place to feel the other melt on top of him. There was a long string of precum dripping from Wooyoung’s tip down onto San’s abs and San couldn’t hide the pleased purr in his throat at the sight. God, how much better it was in person than in his dreams.

“That’s it, pretty boy, you cum for me. Cum on my cock, please. ” Reminded of Wooyoung’s earlier words about his begging, San knew he’d hit the right spot with both his body and his words when Wooyoung let out the most beautiful sound San was sure he’d ever had the pleasure of hearing.

Wooyoung’s hand flew to his own cock to help himself through his climax, no longer caring about making a mess of San’s shirt — San didn’t care either, messy clothes were the least of his worries right now.

“Oh- oh my god, San ,” Wooyoung’s head flew back to expose his perfect neck and San took the opportunity to strike.

He bit down as his own climax washed over him — not enough to leave any long term marks, thankfully. The feeling of Wooyoung’s gasp and moans beneath his teeth were enough to pull another guttural groan from San.

Holy fuck.

He’d just had sex with Wooyoung.

As the movements ceased and the waters calmed, the only sounds throughout the room were the exasperated breaths and soft moans from the still sensitive bodies. They hadn’t looked at each other yet, San didn’t know if he could face the consequences of what this meant — now that the haze of lust had worn off.

Would they regret this?

San pushed the thoughts away, running a hand gently through Wooyoung’s hair as they sat for another few moments. It wasn’t an awkward silence, it was comfortable — the same as it always was for them when they were together.

Finally, San dared to pull back to meet Wooyoung’s gaze. The shared smiles came immediately as both fell into laughter, disbelief at what they’d both just done.

“Did we really just…?” San shook his head, still laughing.

Wooyoung brushed his fingertips along San’s neck once more, biting his lip through his grin. “We did. I can’t believe it took you so long!”

“Wh- took me so long?!” San’s face fell in shock and Wooyoung’s laughter kicked off another round of giggles before the two decided they should probably clean up.

The studio was quiet, everyone else had gone home by now. San waved his keys as they packed up and changed out of their wet clothes. “You hungry? Let’s go eat.”

“Couldn’t have asked me that before you decided to fuck me?” Wooyoung retorted, giggling again as San shushed him — as if anyone would hear them.

“Alright then, next time I’ll take you out to eat before I fuck you. How does that sound?”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Next time?”

San stepped closer, a possessive smile on his face as he cupped the other’s chin with his hand, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“You’re mine now, Jung Wooyoung. You know what you’ve done.”

#ateez #ateez smut #choi san #jung wooyoung #woosan #ateez fanfic #woosan smut #smut #atz #zenfulslumber

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grace5425 · 2 months ago

Text

tethered to a story we must tell

The celebration in the Gryffindor common room had long run over. It was nearly 3 a.m., yet the music still pulsed through the walls, and someone had conjured more bottles when the drinks should’ve run dry hours ago.

Not that you minded. You loved a good party—especially one meant to celebrate you. Gryffindor’s victory over Ravenclaw that afternoon had been hard-won, and you’d played no small part in securing it. The crowd had chanted your name. You’d been hoisted on shoulders, doused in butterbeer, and kissed on the cheek more times than you could count.

But eventually, the sugar rush of victory wore off. The music got too loud. The drinks lost their thrill. And your stomach had started to growl. Which led you here—arms full of stolen snacks from the kitchens, navigating the dim corridors back toward Gryffindor Tower.

So far, things had gone smoothly. Until you rounded a corner and slammed directly into a solid, warm body.

“Merlin,” a low voice muttered above you.

You blinked, hair in your face, and scowled as you brushed it away.

Of course. Theodore Nott.

He stood there, tall and unimpressed, the same permanent scowl carved into his face. His blue eyes flicked over you, sharp and unreadable. A slightly oversized sweater hung from his frame like he couldn’t be bothered to care how he looked.

“Oh, buzz off, Nott,” you huffed, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered food.

You waited for the trademark snarky comeback, the usual bite in his voice, but the hallway stayed oddly silent.

You glanced up, expecting irritation or smugness—but what you saw instead made you pause. His expression wasn’t angry. It was stunned. Pale. Like he’d seen a ghost.

“What?” you snapped, frowning at the way he just kept staring. “Cat got your tongue?”

Still, no answer.

Then—he stepped forward.

You tried to step back, but his hand shot out, catching the side of your neck with a gentleness that shocked you more than the touch itself.

“What the hell, Nott?” you snapped, swatting at his arm. “Get off—”

He didn’t let go. Instead, he let out a low, disbelieving laugh. It wasn’t mocking. It sounded like someone who’d just had the wind knocked out of them. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “Sorry, doll. Looks like you’re mine.”

You froze. “What are you talking about?”

“Your soulmate mark,” he said, thumb brushing the skin just under your ear. “It matches mine.”

You swallowed hard. “No way. No way, Nott.”

But your voice lacked conviction.

You’d known about your mark your whole life—five faint beauty marks beneath your ear, shaped like a crooked ‘W’ or a star formation, depending on the angle. Your mother had told you it was Cassiopeia, the constellation of love and vanity. A mark that promised someone would see you—even when you didn’t see yourself. You had spent years imagining who it would be. Dreaming of someone kind, maybe charming, someone who made you laugh and held your hand.

Not… Theodore Nott.

Wordless, Theo pulled off his sweater in one smooth motion and turned slightly. There, etched on the back of his shoulder, were the same five marks. Same placement. Same constellation. Cassiopeia.

You stared. The food in your arms had long since been forgotten. The world felt too still.

Since you were little, you’d imagined this moment would feel like magic. Instead, it felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you.

“See?” Theo said quietly, as if he wasn’t sure you’d believe it even with proof. “Told you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

And for once, neither did he.

You tore your gaze away from the marks on his shoulder like they’d burned you.

“No,” you said, the word sharp and immediate. “No. This—this is wrong. This has to be wrong.”

Theodore blinked at you, his expression unreadable, but you didn’t wait for a response.

“You must’ve messed with it,” you accused, taking a step back. “There are spells for that kind of thing, right? Glamours or illusions. Or maybe it’s just a coincidence. A trick of shape—those marks don’t mean anything.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You really think I’d go through all that trouble to fake a soulmate mark just to screw with you?”

You hated how calm he sounded. How steady he looked, while your heart pounded so hard you could feel it in your fingertips.

“It’s you,” he said, and he didn’t sound smug or mocking—just certain. Quietly, devastatingly certain. “You don’t have to like it, but you can’t deny it.”

“Yes I can,” you snapped. “And I am.”

You took another step back. Then another. The snacks you’d dropped were scattered at your feet, but you didn’t reach for them. You couldn’t.

“You’re not my soulmate, Nott,” you said, voice cracking slightly. “You’re just some arrogant, miserable Slytherin who hates everything that breathes, and I—I don’t want this.”

His jaw tensed. Just slightly.

You turned on your heel.

“Wait—”

“No,” you said over your shoulder, already storming down the corridor. “Don’t follow me.”

And he didn’t.

𓍯𓂃

The corridor felt colder when she left.

Theo stood there for a long moment, sweater in hand, her voice still echoing in the space between the stone walls and the hollow of his chest.

“You’re not my soulmate, Nott.”

He let out a slow breath and looked down at his mark again—the same five points of ink-dark skin that had sat there since he was born. Cassiopeia. His mother had traced it once, years ago, when he was a boy. She’d told him it meant something important, something destined. He remembered her voice then—softer than it ever was after his father started twisting their home into something colder.

He pulled his sweater back on.

Of course it would be Her.

It had always been her. He just hadn’t wanted to believe it until tonight. She was fire where he was frost, loud when he stayed quiet, all flashing eyes and reckless courage. She infuriated him on the pitch. Irritated him in class. Lit up rooms he only ever wanted to sneak out of.

And now?

Now the universe had gone and tied them together with stars.

He leaned against the wall, tipping his head back until it thudded lightly against the stone.

He didn’t blame her for the way she looked at him. Not really. He was used to being misunderstood—hell, he preferred it that way most of the time. Better to keep people at arm’s length than give them the chance to leave on their own.

But this?

This wasn’t something he could just brush off like a passing insult or a scuffle in the corridor. This wasn’t just banter or some stupid rivalry.

This was real.

He wasn’t sure what scared him more—how much he hated seeing the horror in her eyes… or how much he suddenly needed her to look at him differently.

To see him the way he secretly, quietly, always saw her.

Theo ran a hand through his hair and sighed.

He wouldn’t chase her. Not tonight. She’d hate him more for that. She needed space.

But he knew one thing.

She could deny it all she wanted. Call it a curse, a mistake, a cruel joke from the stars.

But that mark on her neck didn’t lie.

And neither did his.

part two

#slytherin boys #hp fanfic #lorenzo zurzolo #theo nott x reader #theonott #hogwarts #theonott x you #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x reader #theodorenott #soulmates #soulmarks

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sageisdark · 9 months ago

Text

sweet dreams (pt. 1)

↳ when he finally gets his hands on you.... (18+)

pairing: Gus Fring x reader

wordcount: 500+

warnings: reader has a vagina; hints of drugging, intox, somno, bondage, blindfold, dubcon, nipple play, teasing, reader has a bush & a big clit, petnames "darling" and "sweetheart" used, Gus refers to himself as "Papa"

“Shhh darling, I’ve got you now…"

Whispers echoed above you, the darkness covering your eyes may have clouded your sight but you could still feel. Your nude body was exposed to the cold air, goosebumps traveling across every inch of your skin. Your nipples were painfully erect, sensitive and throbbing for more sensation. You were spread apart, with your limbs tied to each of the corners of the bed. Deft fingers crawled over you, exploring, wandering, while he murmured sweet praises under his breath. The voice was unfamiliar, but he moved around your body as if he’d been here before, touching you in spots that only you knew of, causing you to wriggle and squirm underneath his grasp.

You were still half-asleep, a heavy drowsiness seeping into your bones. Everything was fuzzy. Memory didn’t serve you here, it didn’t allow you to recall the time, the day, the last thing you did, who this was touching you….

“What is…?” Your question became lost in a gasp, your back immediately arching off the bed as you felt a wet, warm mouth latch onto your breast. A tongue skillfully swirled around your nipple before exploring the patterns written into your areolas. You cried out at the feeling, flashes of lightning striking inside from your nipple straight down to your cunt.

It was as though he wanted you to beg, to plead for more. He didn’t dare to move to your other nipple, no matter how hard you writhed in his hold, eager to use your own fingers to pinch and pull at the tender nub. The stirring deep within your belly grew increasingly intense as time passed, your toes curled and bottom lip sore from biting it so hard.

The mouth on your nipple loudly released itself, leaving your tit wet and marked with gooseflesh. Suddenly, you felt a gust of cold air directly hitting your breast, the wetness making the fire burn so much hotter in you. Your cunt throbbed in your panties, already so wet that you could feel the lace sticking to your swollen lips. Desperate hips jerked up, blindly searching for the source of relief above you, your clit poking a slight tent as it grew.

A kiss on your clothed cunt had you nearly losing your mind, especially when he paused, taking a few moments to deeply take in your scent. A warm, musky smell emanated from your pussy and it seemed to be his favorite thing. With each inhale taken, you could feel the heat of his exhales against you, further warming and loosening you up. Fingers pulled your panties down your body, taking them off to reveal your bushy cunt, the thick, curly brown hair grown out as if you were one of those 70s dirty magazine vixens. Your big clit pulsed in the air, now unknowingly being ogled by the man kneeling in between your legs. Hands landed on your waist, rubbing gentle circles with his thumbs.

“Relax, sweetheart…Papa’s got you, I’ve got you.”

i do not give permission for anyone to copy, translate, or repost any of my works. 18+ ONLY -- i am not responsible for the content you consume.

#sageispunk #sageisdark #gus fring #gustavo fring #breaking bad #gus fring x reader #gus fring x black!reader #gustavo fring x reader #breaking bad fanfic #gus fring fanfic #dark fantasy #my writing

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gowerhardcastle · 2 months ago

Note

i’ve noticed similes are kind of at the heart of both Wodehouse’s stuff and yours. they’re always so colorful and unexpected. How do you come up with them? Any tips or tricks? I really struggle with making similes funny or just fresh, especially since English isn’t my first language. Would love to hear your thoughts!

I thought and thought about how I wanted to answer this, and I was about to answer, "well, I just do it."

But that seemed unsatisfying.

So I did a search in one chapter of Tea and Scones and picked out a random assortment of similes to see if I could identify how I write them.

Here is what I learned about my method of writing similes.

All emotions are over-the-top, felt at the highest possible pitch:

Uncle Preston Plops' words are quite literally boring, as in "boring like a drill or auger," directly into into the sulci of your brain and squirming around in there as if to devour it.

You focus your efforts, trying to bring to bear every last bit of social grace and training, but no, no, it is like a piece of tissue paper trying to hold back a raging river.

"I have seen his spirit, and it is beautiful. Like a strong but tender oak sapling, pushing up its tendrils from the earth to bid good morning to the day."

You let it fall to the ground, your pulse pounding in your temples like an angry judge calling for order.

Animals are funny:

Rory jumps into the driver's seat, and you jump on top of her, thrashing like a fish flopping around on land.

In this position, with neck lifted high, she looks like a horse who is also an empress, cold and commanding, preparing to prove her worth on the field of battle or the racetrack.

She hisses at you like a territorial goose who has just staked out a claim on an entire pond.

Her lips meet yours, her mouth seeking yours like a fox seeking berries and small rodents. You shake your head and try to focus.

Food is funny:

You try to force thoughts through your fevered brain. It feels like attempting to push a cup of very hot tea through a heaping bowl of mashed potatoes.

She holds her teeth against your arm tightly, as if to let you know that she could take a generous bite of you like a celery stalk stuffed with crumbled gorgonzola cheese and sliced green olives.

I like similes that tell a little story, a story that extends the simile just a little too long and gives a little too much detail:

Then he makes a sound like a laugh, but one without any humor at all in it. A gloating, wheezing whisper of a laugh, dry like a desiccated arm bone lying out in an uncared-for churchyard.

You feel something like a skydiver who has jumped from a plane, and then, and only then, begins to feel around in his pockets to see if he has remembered to pack his parachute.

You can tell that he is a bit uneasy about your words, like a person who has been handed a cup of coffee that they have been assured is decaffeinated by a distracted coffee-maker.

Above all else, I'm a student of Homer's when it comes to epic simile, and of Wodehouse's when it comes to bonkers comparisons. I find the well-wielded simile hilarious and evocative, and I reach for them very frequently as a way of adding extra jokes, and extra-lavish description into a situation.

Thank goodness, I don't have to know how to employ them in non-comic genres.

Why do I write at such length about simile and other fascinating elements of writing and interactive game design? It is solely to lure you to the Noble Gases Club, your sole destination for well-written prose, an unaccountably lengthy demo of Jolly Good: Tea and Scones, and a freely available discussion of pre-physical intimacy.

#jolly good tea and scones #booknerdlife #pg wodehouse #authors of tumblr #writing advice #interactive game #writerscommunity #similes

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yassbishimvintage · 6 months ago

Text

Poke it Out (Studio 4)

MDNI!

Warnings: You know the drill. Fluff, smut.

A/N: This is a little all over the place. But I hope you enjoy.

A few days later after they are Instagram official, she’s helping him get ready for a performance. They are backstage and he has his in ears in. He kisses her forehead as his DJ calls for him. She is smiling from ear to ear. The crowd erupts into cheers as Brendan's voice rings through the speakers. Amari stands off to the side of the stage, her heart racing, watching him perform with an effortless confidence. She feels a surge of pride and excitement as he calls out to her, his hand extended toward her with a grin that makes her pulse quicken.

She steps forward, her eyes meeting his as she walks toward him. The music swells, the slower tempo of the song allowing the moment to feel more intimate, more personal. The spotlight shifts slightly, casting a glow around her as she reaches Brendan, and the crowd’s energy intensifies, the cheers now a soft hum beneath the music.

She places her hand in his, and he pulls her gently onto the stage, his grip strong and sure. His smile deepens as she stands beside him, their connection palpable to everyone in the arena.

“Y’all know her,” he says, his voice smooth and full of warmth as he addresses the crowd. “This is my girl, Amari. She’s been here with me through everything.” The crowd roars, and Amari feels a mix of emotions—excitement, nervousness, but above all, happiness. She’s never been more sure of her place in his life.

He pulls her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, and they move together to the rhythm of the song. His voice fills the air, soft and melodic, as he sings to her, and she can’t help but smile, her heart swelling with affection.

The way he looks at her makes everything else fade into the background. She’s not just a fan or another face in the crowd tonight—she’s his, and this moment is theirs.

As the song continues, she leans in, her lips brushing against his ear. “You always know how to make me feel special,” she whispers, and he smiles, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Only for you, baby,” he replies softly, pulling her closer until they’re swaying together in perfect harmony with the music.

For that brief, perfect moment, it’s just the two of them on stage—nothing else matters but the love they share, the connection that’s undeniable and strong, even in front of thousands of people. The song finishes, but the memory of this moment lingers, a beautiful reminder of their journey together.

The crowd goes silent for a moment as Brendan’s voice echoes in the arena, but this time, it’s different. The last bar of his song hangs in the air, and then he shifts the lyrics, his gaze softening as he looks directly at Amari.

"I love you, girl," he says, his words a raw declaration, vulnerable and genuine. The intensity of the moment fills the space between them, and Amari’s breath catches in her throat. She’s never heard him say those words before, and hearing them come from him, especially in front of all these people, makes her heart race.

The crowd doesn’t know how to react at first, but soon, there’s an eruption of applause and cheers. They’ve witnessed something real, something more than just the performance, and the energy in the room shifts.

Amari, completely taken aback, feels tears welling up in her eyes. This is the moment she’s been waiting for, but she didn’t expect it to come with such a beautiful vulnerability. She’s speechless for a moment, overwhelmed by the depth of his words and the sincerity in his voice.

With a shaky but confident breath, she smiles at him, her heart full. "I love you too, B," she says, her voice steady, though the emotion laces every syllable.

The crowd continues to cheer, but in that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of them on that stage. Everything else fades into the background as they share this intimate, powerful moment of connection. The love they’ve built, the trust they’ve nurtured, all comes together in those three simple words.

And as the applause continues, Brendan pulls her in close, kissing her forehead softly, his hand resting on her back as if holding her there, grounded in their shared love.

For a brief moment, it’s just them.

As they step off the stage, the energy in the air is palpable, the crowd’s excitement still buzzing. Cameras flash all around them, but Brendan stays focused on Amari, his hand firmly wrapped around hers, guiding her through the sea of people.

She feels the heat of the flashes on her skin, but it’s Brendan’s touch that grounds her, the way his fingers curl around hers reassuringly, as if nothing else in the world matters right now but the two of them.

The buzz of the crowd fades into the background, and Amari can’t help but smile, her heart still racing from the declaration he made on stage.

“You alright?” he asks softly, his voice only for her, as they navigate through the backstage area. His thumb gently rubs the back of her hand, a quiet gesture of care and affection.

“Yeah,” she replies, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I’m good. Just... overwhelmed.”

Brendan squeezes her hand, his grin never wavering. "Good overwhelmed or bad?"

"Good," she says, looking up at him. Her eyes sparkle with admiration and love, emotions swirling inside her. "You really put it all out there tonight, B."

His gaze softens, and he pulls her closer as they pass by another group of people, but it's clear to anyone watching that they’re in their own little world. He leans in slightly, his lips brushing her ear. "I meant every word," he says quietly, his tone sincere.

Amari stops for a second, her heart swelling. She turns to face him, standing there in the middle of all the noise and flashing lights, feeling more connected to him than ever before. "I know you did," she replies, her voice full of warmth.

He brushes a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender as he looks down at her. "Let’s get out of here, yeah? Just you and me," he suggests, his thumb tracing circles on her hand.

She nods, her smile never fading. "Yeah, let’s go."

The afterparty is buzzing with energy, filled with the who’s who of the music industry. People mill about in designer outfits, drinks in hand, while the sound of hip hop and R&B pulses through the air. Brendan and Amari walk in together, his hand still holding hers tightly, but now it’s more of a silent assurance. They are both in their element, but also distinctly united in this whirlwind of flashing lights and swirling conversations.

Amari can feel the eyes on them as they enter, a few whispers spreading through the crowd. People are noticing them—especially now, after the performance and his public declaration of love. But even in the midst of the attention, it feels different. They aren’t acting like a couple under a spotlight. No, this is the most real part of their relationship: the quiet moments where only they understand the full depth of what’s between them.

Brendan leans closer to her as they make their way through the crowd, his voice low in her ear. "I’m just here for you tonight. No distractions, no one else."

She smiles up at him, feeling a warmth spread across her chest. "I like that," she says, squeezing his hand. "Just us."

They find a secluded spot near the back of the venue, away from the throngs of people mingling, their bodies instinctively moving together. Brendan orders them both drinks, and Amari watches him, her gaze softening. There's something about seeing him in this environment, so comfortable in his own skin, and she feels proud to be by his side.

A few minutes later, his friend, the host of the party, comes over to say hello, and Brendan introduces Amari to more of his industry peers. She’s polite, engaging in the conversations, but there’s a part of her that can’t help but notice the way people look at them. There’s curiosity, admiration, and maybe a hint of jealousy—but none of that matters to her. Not here, not tonight.

Amari’s focus is entirely on Brendan, and when they finally find themselves alone on a quieter balcony overlooking the city, she breathes a sigh of relief.

"I didn’t think we’d make it this far without a conversation," she teases, leaning against the railing.

Brendan chuckles, his hands in his pockets, eyes glancing over the cityscape before meeting hers. "We don’t have to talk about anything. Not unless you want to."

She turns her body towards him, tilting her head with a playful smile. "You’re just being a charmer now."

"Maybe," he says with a grin, taking a step closer to her. His voice lowers again, intimate, private. "But I meant it earlier. About us being in this together. No matter what."

Amari’s heart skips a beat as she meets his gaze. "I know you did," she says softly. "And I’m here for it, B. All of it."

They stand there for a moment, just enjoying the shared silence, the city lights sparkling below them. It’s one of those rare moments where everything feels perfectly aligned, where no words are necessary to convey how they truly feel about each other.

Brendan turns his head, a smirk forming on his lips as he recognizes the voice of his friend. The man walks up to them, his eyes bouncing between Brendan and Amari.

"Look at the rapper named after a vehicle," he says, teasing. "And the pretty lady." His tone is playful, though there's a genuine compliment in there.

Amari chuckles, shaking her head lightly. "Well, I’m flattered." She offers a warm smile as she glances at Brendan, amused by the nickname.

Brendan laughs, throwing an arm around her shoulders, the casual gesture exuding comfort and confidence. "You know how it is, man. Always gotta keep people guessing. Amari, this is Greg. Greg, this is the woman who’s been keeping me grounded."

Greg raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin on his face. "So, this is the girl who's got the rapper wrapped around her finger, huh?" He winks at Amari, his playful tone masking the respect behind his words.

Amari shrugs, her smile never faltering. "Not wrapped around. Just here for the ride."

Greg laughs, clearly enjoying the banter. "I like her already. You got a good one, bro," he says to Brendan, slapping him on the back. "But hey, don’t let her go too far. You know how these industry girls are."

Brendan's expression hardens for just a second, the edge of protectiveness flaring up before he smiles again. "She’s nothing like them," he says firmly, his hand tightening just slightly around Amari’s shoulder.

Amari, sensing the shift, looks up at him, her smile softening. "I’m not going anywhere."

Greg notices the change in tone and raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to stir the pot. But seriously, you two look good together." He nods approvingly before clapping Brendan on the shoulder again. "I’ll leave you guys to it. Just don’t get too cozy out here; it’s cold as hell."

As Greg walks away, Brendan turns to Amari, his hand brushing against hers in a subtle but intimate touch. "Sorry about that," he says, his voice low. "He’s got a big mouth, but he means well."

Amari smiles, understanding. "It’s fine, B. I like him. And honestly, it’s kinda cute to hear him say that."

Brendan laughs softly, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of her hand. "Yeah, I guess it is. But no matter what anyone says, you’re the one I’m here with."

Amari meets his gaze, feeling the depth of his words settle in her chest. "I’m here with you too."

The rest of the night carries on, but those words linger in the air between them, unspoken promises, a bond that continues to grow stronger.

Amari glances over to her side, a bit distracted by the familiar energy in the room. Standing next to her is a guy she recognizes but doesn’t know too well—someone who’s been eyeing her for the evening. He leans in slightly, offering her a confident smile.

"You're looking stunning tonight," he says, his tone smooth but with an undertone that suggests he's trying to get her attention.

Amari raises an eyebrow, not exactly impressed but aware of the attention. She glances back to Brendan, who's engaged in conversation with someone, and then looks at the guy beside her. She doesn’t feel threatened, but there’s a flicker of possessiveness in her chest.

"Thanks," she replies, keeping her tone neutral but polite, hoping he gets the hint.

The guy, however, doesn’t seem to take the cue, his smile only widening as he steps a little closer. "I’m sure you’re used to getting that kind of attention, though." He adds, his eyes scanning her before locking back on hers.

“I’m Ash. A producer. Your Mid Size’s girl.” He says.

Amari's posture shifts slightly, the mention of Brendan's nickname adding a layer of protection around her. She crosses her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly as she keeps her gaze on Ash.

"That's right," she says coolly, a slight edge to her voice. She’s not here for unnecessary flirtation or anyone trying to test boundaries. "And just so we’re clear, I’m not interested in anything you’re selling."

Ash chuckles, unfazed by her response. "I get it," he says, leaning back slightly, trying to keep the mood light. "Just making conversation. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable."

She tilts her head, her expression staying guarded but calm. "Well, you're doing a great job of it," she replies, her voice calm but firm.

She glances over at Brendan, who’s still surrounded by others, then back at Ash. "If you’ll excuse me," she says, her tone leaving little room for argument. "I’m going to go check on my man."

She walks away with confidence, feeling the eyes of the room shift as she moves. When she reaches Brendan, she places a hand gently on his arm, leaning in close enough that only he can hear her.

"Some guy tried to hit on me," she murmurs, keeping her tone light, but there's a flicker of annoyance beneath it.

Brendan looks down at her with a mix of concern and possessiveness in his eyes. "Who?" he asks, his gaze scanning the crowd.

She shakes her head, dismissing it with a half-smile. "Doesn’t matter. I just wanted to make sure you know I’m not going anywhere."

Brendan smiles softly, pulling her closer to his side. "I like hearing that."

Ash walks over with a casual stride, a confident grin on his face, though it's clear he's aware of the tension that has built between him and Amari. He stops just a little too close, his gaze flicking between the two of them.

"Hey, Mid Sized," Ash says, giving Brendan a nod, before his attention turns back to Amari. "I was just telling your girl here how much of a power couple you two are."

Amari's lips press together in a thin line, her gaze steady and unimpressed as she steps closer to Brendan, subtly placing her hand on his arm. She could feel the heat from Brendan's body next to hers, and the small gesture was enough to remind her of their bond.

"I’m sure you were," she replies, her voice smooth but firm. "But I don’t need you to talk about us. We’re good."

Ash raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting such a direct response. He lets out a small laugh, his tone more playful now. "All right, all right. Just making sure everything’s good. I like to see people stick together." He shifts his gaze between them again, this time with a more lingering look that makes Amari stiffen. "Guess I’ll let you two be."

Before he can say anything more, Amari steps in, her expression unamused. "Yeah, you should. I’m here for one reason, and that’s my man."

Brendan’s arm drapes around her waist protectively as he meets Ash's eyes, a flicker of warning in his own. "Appreciate the talk, but Amari and I are fine, man."

Ash shrugs, his grin fading slightly. "No problem, man. Just wanted to make sure we're all cool." He takes a step back, offering one last look at the pair before he melts back into the crowd.

Amari exhales softly, her body relaxing as soon as Ash is out of sight. She turns her attention fully to Brendan, her gaze softening. "You okay?" she asks, voice low.

Brendan smiles down at her, his eyes warm and protective. "Always when I'm with you."

"Good," she says, before leaning in to kiss him again, her hand resting on his chest. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

A photographer comes and snaps their picture. The flash of the camera catches both Amari and Brendan by surprise. They quickly pull apart, but not before the photographer captures the intimate moment. The photographer steps back, grinning.

"Sorry about that, didn't mean to interrupt," the photographer says, his tone light but knowing. "You two make a great shot."

Amari smiles, though it’s a little tight, not used to having their moments captured in public like this. She turns to Brendan, her brow furrowed slightly. "I swear, these cameras are always lurking."

Brendan laughs softly, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear. "It comes with the territory, babe. We’re both in the spotlight now."

He steps closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. "But don’t worry," he says, his voice reassuring, "I’ve got you. No one gets between us."

The photographer, sensing their need for space, gives them a nod before walking away, but not without snapping a few more candid shots as he does. Amari looks up at Brendan, meeting his eyes, her expression softening.

"I guess this is just part of it, huh?" she says, with a resigned smile.

Brendan grins. "Yep. But as long as you’re with me, it’s all good."

"Let’s go before they start asking too many questions," Amari says, tugging at his hand, ready to escape the prying eyes for a moment of peace.

Brendan nods and follows her, the two of them weaving through the crowd, leaving the flashes and noise behind for a while.

When they get home he’s sitting between her legs happy. “I need to wash your hair for a retwist.” She says as she runs her hand through his hair.

Brendan looks up at her with a playful grin, leaning back slightly as he runs a hand through his hair. "You want to wash my hair, huh?" he teases, his voice light but with a hint of warmth. "Guess I can't say no to you when you're looking like that."

Amari chuckles softly, her fingers already gathering the products she needs for his retwist. "Come by the shop in the morning. I got you.” she says as she kisses him.

Amari is standing behind the counter, sorting through her supplies when she hears the familiar sound of the doorbell ringing. She looks up, a smile forming instantly when she sees Brendan walk in, dressed casually but with that signature confidence he carries.

“Look who finally made time for his girlfriend.” she says jokingly. "You know I couldn’t stay away. I need you to fix me up again," he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

Amari laughs softly, shaking her head. "Of course you did. You never leave it alone, do you?" She sets down what she’s doing and steps closer, her gaze lingering on him with a hint of affection.

Brendan leans in, lowering his voice just a little. "I like it when you take care of me, you know?"

She meets his gaze, the warmth in her eyes undeniable. "I know you do," she replies, the words coming out softer than she intended. There’s an easy comfort between them now, the sort that only grows stronger the more time they spend together.

“I don’t have long,” he says, glancing at the clock. “I’ve got a studio session, but I wanted to see you before I head out. And get this hair of mine looking right."

Amari nods, leading him to one of the chairs in the back where she usually does her retwists. "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you look fresh. You’re going to be on fire when you step into that session."

He sits down and relaxes, making himself comfortable. "I’m counting on you, Mari."

As she starts to work through his hair, the quiet between them feels like another form of closeness, their easy silence telling a story of its own. She moves with practiced hands, her fingers gently working through his hair while he leans back, trusting her completely.

"You’re looking good these days," she says, breaking the silence. "Tour’s been treating you well."

Brendan smirks, eyes closing as he enjoys the sensation of her hands. "It has, but I think I’m looking better now," he teases, giving her a side glance.

She shakes her head but can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips. "You’re impossible."

"You love it," he says confidently, reaching over and brushing his hand against hers in a subtle yet affectionate gesture.

Amari looks up at him, the connection between them palpable, as she finishes off the retwist, adding the final touches. “Done. Now you’re ready to make some more magic happen."

Brendan stands, his eyes softening as he looks at her. “You know you make everything better, right?”

Amari smiles, feeling a warmth spread in her chest. “Just doing my job,” she replies, though she can feel that little flutter every time he speaks to her like that.

He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "I'll see you later, baby. Don't miss me too much while I'm gone."

She laughs lightly, watching him head toward the door. "I’ll try," she says, her voice just loud enough for him to hear.

As he walks out, she feels a lingering sense of contentment, knowing that despite the busy schedule and the distance that comes with his career, moments like this—simple, real moments—are what she cherishes the most.

“And baby, I expect the best after studio sex when you come home tonight.” she says with a smile.

Brendan turns back around at the door, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Oh, trust me, Mari. You're gonna get more than that," he says, his voice low and teasing.

Amari leans against the counter, giving him a playful look. "I’m holding you to that, B. Don't forget your promise."

He chuckles, walking back toward her, his eyes filled with confidence. "You know I never forget a promise," he says, then presses a soft kiss to her lips. "But, just to make it interesting, I'll make sure it’s a welcome home you won't forget either."

Her heart races a little at his words, the energy between them electric. "I’ll be counting down the days," she replies, her smile matching his playful tone.

As he finally walks out the door, Amari can't help but feel a rush of excitement for when he returns, knowing the tension between them is only building. The anticipation feels almost as good as the actual moments they'll share when he’s back.

As he leaves her friend Jasmine comes in. Jasmine walks in with a bright smile, her energy filling the room as she spots Amari behind the counter. "Hey, girl!" she greets, walking over with a playful bounce in her step.

Amari looks up and grins. "Hey, Jas! You good?" she asks, setting down the clipboard she was holding.

"Yeah, just got done with a shoot, but I had to swing by. I haven't seen you in a minute!" Jasmine says, sliding into one of the chairs in the shop.

Amari chuckles. "I know, right? Life's been busy. You know, B's been out of town and I'm just keeping things rolling here."

Jasmine raises an eyebrow. "B, huh? You two are really something, huh?" she teases, leaning forward as if waiting for some juicy details.

Amari laughs, her eyes twinkling. "Something like that. He's back home right now, but we've been making it work." She hesitates for a moment before continuing. "Things are… good between us."

Jasmine gives her a knowing look. "I can tell. You’ve been glowing lately, girl. So, what’s the next step? You two have the ‘talk’ yet? You know, the ‘are we exclusive’ talk?"

“And we been had the exclusive talk. You seen his Instagram.” Amari says.

Jasmine’s eyes widen, a playful smirk forming on her lips. “Wait, what? Y’all already had the talk and you’re still over here acting like you’re unsure? Girl, you’re practically his girlfriend in the eyes of the whole world,” she teases.

Amari chuckles, shaking her head. “I mean, yeah. I saw the Instagram post and everything, but it just feels like it’s moving so fast, you know?” She leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I love the attention, but it also kind of freaks me out. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Jasmine leans in, her tone softening. “I get it. It’s a lot to adjust to, especially with someone in the public eye. But, girl, if he’s posting about you like that, that’s his way of saying he’s serious. You don’t let someone in like that unless you’re all in, too.”

Amari sighs, looking at her phone. “I know… and it feels good, you know? Having him be so open about it. But what if it’s just the ‘tour’ life talking? What if when he’s back home, things change?”

Jasmine places a reassuring hand on Amari’s. “You’re overthinking it. He’s been consistent, right? He’s made his intentions clear. And when he’s back, you’ll have your moment to really sit down and talk things through. But trust what’s happening now. If you wait around for the ‘what ifs,’ you might miss out on something amazing.”

Amari smiles, feeling the weight lift off her shoulders just a little bit. “You’re right. I just need to take it day by day and let it happen naturally. I can’t predict the future.”

Jasmine nods, a grin spreading across her face. “Exactly! And, girl, you’ve got this. You’re killing it in every aspect of your life, so don’t let some nervous jitters stop you from enjoying what you have with him. He’s a good one.”

Amari smiles. “That’s my man. My man, my man, my man!.” she squeals. In that moment Jasmine shows her a picture that Brendan just uploaded.

Amari stares at the post Jasmine shows her, her heart skipping a beat. “My peace. My girl. Hashtag Amari and B.” The words hit her like a wave, and a rush of warmth spreads through her chest. The post was more than just a declaration; it felt like an embrace, as if he was claiming her in a way that felt both public and intimate at the same time.

Jasmine looks at her, a knowing smile on her face. “See? That right there is real. You can’t fake that energy. He’s all in, girl.”

Amari feels her pulse quicken, her mind racing as she processes the depth of what he said. She knew they had something special, but seeing him put it out there so boldly, so openly, made it all feel so much more real.

“I—wow, Jasmine. I didn’t think he’d actually put it like that. I mean, I saw the pictures, but this… this feels different.”

Jasmine chuckles, nudging her playfully. “It is different. He’s not playing around. And he wants everyone to know it. You’re his peace. His girl. Don’t second-guess it.”

Amari smiles, a small laugh escaping her lips. “I guess I really need to stop overthinking things.”

Jasmine gives her a playful look. “Exactly. Enjoy it. He’s putting it out there for you, and I’m sure he’s hoping you’re doing the same. This is your moment, too.”

Amari nods, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. She feels reassured, but a part of her still can’t shake the feeling that this was all happening faster than she’d expected. But she couldn’t deny the way his words made her heart flutter, the way he made her feel like she was the only one in his world.

She pulls her phone out, her fingers hovering over the screen, before she taps out a response to the post: “My peace. My B. #AmariAndB.”

After hitting send, she looks up at Jasmine, a wide smile breaking across her face. “Alright. No more overthinking. It’s time to enjoy this.”

“And half the pictures he posts of you are you straddling him in some way. Y’all are together.” Jasmine says.

Amari chuckles, her cheeks flushing slightly as she thinks about the pictures Jasmine is referring to. "Yeah, I noticed that," she says, shaking her head with a smile. "Guess he really likes me on top, huh?"

Jasmine laughs. "I mean, it's clear as day. He's all about you, Amari. He's posting pictures like that for a reason. You two have something real, and he's proud of it."

Amari looks down at her phone again, the words of Jasmine's encouragement sinking in. Her mind flashes back to the moments in those pictures—straddling Brendan, laughing, kissing, feeling at home in his arms. The connection between them felt undeniable. It wasn’t just physical attraction; it was something deeper, something that had been building for a while now.

She sighs, a content smile forming on her lips. "I know, I just get in my head sometimes. But I think I’m starting to realize that I don’t need to overthink it. He’s making it clear how he feels."

Jasmine nods, giving her a knowing look. "Exactly. And if he's tagging you in all those pictures, letting the world see how much he cares, it’s his way of saying you don’t have to worry about anything. You’re his."

Amari sits back in her chair, taking a deep breath. "You’re right. I’ve just got to let go of the doubts and enjoy what we have. He’s making it easy to do that, honestly."

Jasmine grins. "Exactly. You two are it, Amari. Don’t let anything or anyone make you think otherwise."

Amari laughs softly. "Yeah, I’m starting to believe that."

“And that TDE charity concert where he said he loved you. Why the doubt.” She says.

Amari’s heart skips a beat as Jasmine reminds her of the charity concert. The memory of Brendan saying “I love you” in front of everyone still lingers with her. She takes a moment, her eyes glazing over as she reflects on that moment.

“Honestly, I was overwhelmed. It’s just... he said it so casually, like it was nothing. But for me, those words are huge. I wanted to be sure, you know? Not just rushing into something because it felt good in the moment. It’s a big step. And I think I’ve been holding back a little because of it.”

Jasmine nods knowingly. “I get it. But girl, when someone says they love you like that, and especially in front of a crowd like that, there’s no backing out. That’s not just a fling. He’s all in.”

Amari exhales, her shoulders dropping as she lets out a long breath. "I know. And when I think about it, it wasn’t just the words, it was how he looked at me when he said it. Like he meant it with everything. I’ve never felt more seen than I did in that moment."

Jasmine raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Then what are you waiting for? That man is ready to claim you in front of the world. You just need to accept it, babe."

Amari smirks, feeling her chest warm at the thought of what Jasmine said. “I think I’ve been waiting for me to stop overthinking and just accept it. Because I know he’s not playing with me.”

Jasmine leans forward, her eyes locking with Amari’s. “Exactly. He’s not playing. And you’re not playing either. You deserve this. Don’t let your mind mess with something so good.”

Amari grins, feeling the weight of her doubts start to lift. "You're right. I’m done second-guessing it. I’m going to let myself be with him, let myself enjoy this, and stop holding back.”

Jasmine chuckles. "That’s what I like to hear, girl."

When he arrives home she could feel his presence.

As the door clicked open, Amari felt a sense of warmth and familiarity flood the room. It wasn’t just the sound of his footsteps that made her smile, but the way his energy filled the space. She was sitting on the couch, but as soon as she heard him, she stood up, eagerly awaiting his entrance. When he stepped in, there was that undeniable feeling of home in his presence. His eyes met hers, and the connection between them was instant. No words were needed; everything was said with a glance.

She hugs him. “I was thinking.” He says as she sits down on his bed.

She pulls him down beside her, her head resting against his shoulder as she waits for him to continue. He takes a deep breath, clearly thinking carefully about what he’s about to say.

“I was thinking,” he begins again, his voice soft but steady, “about how everything’s been moving so fast, and how much I appreciate you being patient with me. I know I haven’t always been the best at expressing myself, but I want you to know, Amari, that I’m really serious about us.”

Amari looks up at him, her heart skipping a beat. She smiles, her hand reaching for his. “I know, B. I feel the same way.”

He smiles back, squeezing her hand gently. "Good. Because I want to make sure we're both on the same page."

In the next breath he says, ““Move in with me.”

Amari’s breath catches in her throat, surprised by his sudden request. She looks into his eyes, searching for any sign of uncertainty, but all she finds is sincerity. Her mind races as she processes the words.

“B... are you sure?” she asks, her voice soft yet filled with emotion. She’s always loved the idea of them being together, but this felt like a big step, even for them. “I mean, we’re already in this relationship. It’s just... a lot.”

Brendan leans forward, his forehead pressing against hers as he speaks softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want you with me, every day, in every way. I know it’s a big step, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I want us to build something together, and that starts with you and me, in the same place.”

Amari pauses for a moment, taking in his words. She can feel his sincerity, and something in her heart stirs. She smiles, a small laugh escaping her lips. “I guess I’ll have to cancel my plans then.”

Brendan grins, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “We can figure out the details later. For now, just know I’m not going anywhere without you.”

She leans in to kiss him, her heart finally at ease. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“But I need space for my hair stuff. And everything else.” She says.

Brendan chuckles softly, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Of course. I know how much your hair stuff means to you,” he says, teasing but also completely understanding. “We’ll make room. Hell, we’ll get you your own little studio if that’s what you need. I’m all for it.”

Amari laughs, shaking her head, but she’s touched by how serious he is about accommodating her. “A studio? I don’t need that much space, but I do like the sound of having a designated area for my things. Maybe a big vanity or something.”

Brendan nods, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll make it work. I’ll have a place for all your stuff, and we’ll build something that fits us both. I’m not trying to rush you or put pressure on you. But I want us to feel like home together.”

Amari looks at him, a mix of excitement and comfort settling in her chest. "I guess I’ve been thinking about this too much. You're right. We can make it work."

Brendan pulls her closer, his arms wrapped around her as they settle together, both content in the moment, knowing that this next step would be the beginning of something special. "We’ll make this place ours. No matter how much space you need for your stuff."

“Now. As I promised. That welcome home sex that was promised.” He says with a smile.

Amari grins, her eyes sparkling with a mix of anticipation and affection. "You sure know how to make an entrance," she teases, leaning in to kiss him gently, her hands already roaming over his chest as the tension between them builds.

Brendan's grin widens, his hands pulling her closer. "You have no idea," he murmurs against her lips. "Let’s make this memorable."

As they continue to kiss, the world outside fades away, and it's just the two of them, lost in the moment, enjoying their connection as they finally fulfill the promise of the night.

A few months down the road

One morning, she woke up to a notification on Instagram from being tagged in B’s video. It’s them in their shared bathroom. Her doing her makeup and him just smiling and recording her.

Amari smiles as she watches the video play. In the clip, she’s focused on her makeup, carefully applying eyeliner, while Brendan is in the background, grinning and filming her. His voice can be heard lightly in the background, playfully teasing her about how serious she looks as she concentrates. The video captures the little, tender moments they share in their everyday lives.

She quickly taps to read the caption. "My favorite person, even when she's in 'serious mode'. #AmariAndB #MyPeace"

The comments immediately flood in, full of praise for how natural and adorable the two of them look together. Amari can’t help but feel a warmth spread through her chest at seeing how much love and support they’re receiving.

She notices a comment from one of his fans: "I love how you guys are so real together. No pretense, just vibes."

Amari feels a rush of happiness, realizing just how genuine their relationship is, despite the cameras, the fans, and everything that comes with his fame. She’s just happy to be herself with him. She smiles, tapping a heart under the comment before setting her phone down to finish getting ready.

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