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mooishbeam · 1 year

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『♡』 In the Ring

♡ featuring: boxer!wriothesley x manager!reader

♡ summary: its hard managing a boxer full time. maybe it's time you relieve that stress. wc: 6.8k+ (???>":>?)

♡ cw/tw: mentions of trauma, mentions of violence, rough sex, overstim, face-sitting, size kink, unintentional edging, hair pulling, mentions of choking, argument, confessed feelings, slow burn, kinda toxic?

notes: can u tell how down bad i am for wriothesley. also do yall like the smaller text cause I do. jing yuan fluff next :)) art by sxnalien on twitter! <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

For a second, the crowd stills. Bright intense lamps illuminate the sweltering squared circle, buoyant under the nimble movement of the boxers. They trade blows, bobbing and throwing each devastating hook with an even deadlier counter. No one took a hit for the past minutes, and the audience scoots to the edge of their seats at the sheer stamina of the two. Both dripping sweat, barely holding on between the merciless clock and their steadfast opponent. You can almost hear the breeze of swift jabs cutting wind against their jaws. The one with blue gloves can barely manage to guard himself, with a swollen face and wobbly legs, while the crimson gloves deal relentless punches. The crowd shouts. Unintelligible echoes, some that pray for the win, others grieving the money they’re about to lose. He’s caught on the ropes, and attempts a wild swing to save himself, to save his career. Red gloves weaves effortlessly and delivers a brutal crush to his bloodied nose and possibly busted mouthpiece. The crack is resounding, it makes the commentators cringe. His skull flies back, and he comes crashing down from his dizzying tower. The head-first fall vibrates beneath the feet of investors in proximity.

DING DING DING

Mass uproar ensues. They jump out of their seats, flailing their arms, joy and pain in equilibrium.

“And he is out! It’s all over!” the commentator yells. Confetti floats golden dust from the ceiling. The victor stalks the ropes before hopping on them, his gloves raised in the air. Glistening, high off elation, but somehow composed in his attitude, akin to a wolf.

“A savage knockout from the untouchable world champion, the king of the ring, Wriooothesley!”

“Wrio, Wrio, Wrio!” they chant. You’re standing near the ropes, already identifying which joints you’ll need to observe after his victory lap. It’s hectic, and you’re jotting down the state of his figure. Past experiences sew through each deep scar carving his rugged biceps and abs, the bruises display early signs of discoloration. He’s tall on the unseen throne, it feels like you’re there with him. A million eyes in that vast stadium, and yet, those midwinter eyes ebbed in silver only look at you.

Your beginnings as a manager were tumultuous. You could barely comprehend how out of your league you were working for a renowned agency fresh out of college. Though you found quick success in your ability to grab the attention of investors through public relations, you weren’t equipped just yet with the hindsight in preparing for scandals. The other athletes you worked with served no problem, and so you never had to worry about their appeal. Higher ups praised your extensive portfolio, and at such a young age, it was even more commendable. You earned it, fame and respect, interviews and gossip—a delicate dance. You were always busy, assisting your clients throughout the day and maintaining their presence while they slept. It was hard work, but you loved doing it.

That was until you worked with amateur boxer, Childe.

A snappy, overconfident lightweight fighter with no regard for anything or anyone. He had an unmistakable void in his eyes, but you fought for him ceaselessly, to prove that he wasn’t the cold person he portrayed himself as. You bore with his flirtatious compliments and innuendos, the need to focus him whenever you documented his afflictions, and he’d not-so-subtly flex his biceps. Childe was unnecessarily violent with underhanded tactics. The media knew this and did everything to amplify that bellicose story. You’d combat it, negate it, but he only fed the flames with threats of retaliation. Taking his phone wasn’t enough, and you couldn’t get through to him. It was only a matter of time before he went off the deep end.

The day you slept, you discovered a restlessness you’d endure indefinitely. The flickering glow of your device woke you at midnight as hundreds of notifications congested your screen. 128 missed calls from your agency, 50 from news sources, and none from Childe. When you processed the damage from his deplorable stunt, you nearly hurled your phone out the window. He posted revenge porn, and evidently turned off his phone. Surely, there’d be a way to fix this. The chances seemed to dissolve with each text turning green. You started pacing, battling with morality and loyalty and anger. What he did was disgusting, but it’s your job to save him, right? Is he worth saving? You spoke with 4 managers at once, switching through motives and bickering until morning. As you flipped through the television, another emotion struck you.

There he was, on a tasteless gossip channel. An interview you didn’t arrange, with a man you’ve never seen before. And he was...crying? The sob story emitting from his deceitful lips was almost impressive. Childe went on about how “demanding and horrible” you were backstage. The crocodile tears dried up through dodgy anecdotes, but it was enough to have people hooked. You were allegedly physically and emotionally abusive. He was too scared to speak up due to your position and he just couldn’t bear it any longer. Then he dropped the bomb; he blamed you for his post. You forced him to do it, jealous of his previous partners, emphasizing how enamored you were of him. The questionable tears began to fall again, but this time he covered his mouth, withholding the duping smile crawling on his face.

You were filled with blinding rage, unable to control the fury at which your remote connected with the screen. It was everywhere now, social media websites booming with live opinions. He had no reason to slander you, and you couldn’t pinpoint why he chose to hurt you like this. You cried for him, shared stories of childhood and family. The knife you used to protect him was firm in your back, twisting and digging with each disgusting message in your inbox. You had no game plan to conduct, and no tears left to cry.

Within a week, you finally understood how cruel this industry could be. Within a week, you were no longer on top. You lost clients fast. It spread like wildfire and not a single outlet spared an ear for your side. People you called friends, coworkers, hadn’t replied to your messages. When you got back to work, the rooms were silent as you passed. You could feel their judgement, whispers rattled with rumors and accusations. They waited for the tiniest slip-up and pounced like hyenas—you were eaten alive by their pitiful stares. You attempted to tell your truth multiple times throughout the week, but it was consistently rejected. The headlines were eye-catching:

“Manager From Hell: Childe Tells All!”

“He Cries: A Story of Love and Jealousy”

Your stomach churned to the magazines being shown. Despite the great amount of loss you suffered, you were thankful for the one person that believed you, your boss.

“Childe is a lying little snake. The media knows that, too.”

“Then why is this happening?”

“Money. That story is making bank right now. But I know for a fact you wouldn’t do this” he reassured.

“Thank you, sir. But...I lost everything; I just don’t know what to do.” The weariness was heavy in your voice.

“I have someone you can manage. It won’t be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” You were unsure of yourself now, and he continued.

“You’re one of my best. If you want to climb out of this, now’s your chance.” Yes, you were unsure, drowning in doubt. But if the only way to get above water was to keep swimming, you wouldn’t give up so easily.

Wriothesley wasn’t exactly known for his kindness. Crude, cocky, maybe even spoiled were descriptions that circulated in the tabloids. He had a knack for pissing reporters off by not answering questions or humming over their voice with a shit-eating grin on his face. Women loved him, however, throwing bras and phone numbers written on scrap as the condemned “bad boy” departed post-game. They screamed his name at once, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. He relished infamy—that way, it was much harder to pry into his private life.

It had to be a coincidence that it was someone you fangirled over. In college, your eyes were glued to the screen every Sunday, waiting for Wriothesely’s post-conference and behind the scenes interviews. He didn’t speak often, but just the sight of those inky strands streaked with ash made your heart flutter featherlight in your chest.

When you first approached him, he was just as arrogant as you’d expect.

“Good evening!” you beamed. You caught him outside the gym, and he still had his headphones in. Full volume and blankly staring as you went on about the opportunity, silent under the blaring music. He took one earbud out when you finished.

“Hm? Who’re you?”

You were slightly annoyed. “Let me reintroduce myself, I’m (Y/N). Your new manager.”

“No. Bye.” He began to walk past you without an ounce of care. You couldn’t lose it like this.

“Ah, wait!” He turned half-heartedly.

“Listen, I get it. You don’t want to be bossed around. But honestly, your reputation is shit. That can’t be good for business.” you persuaded. He towered over you, the figure of a Greek giant peeked through the compression top as he lazily watched you.

“So? Why do you care?” he remarked.

“I’ll help you. Sponsors, advertisements, whatever you want. You’re good, but you can be so much better. Let’s make money together.” You held your hand out, awaiting a handshake of approval. He merely glanced at your limp wrist.

“Help? You’re obviously not doing this for free.”

“Of course not. Give a little, take a little. I don’t do charity cases” you shrugged.

He groaned, raking his fingers through his thick mane. At the very least, he hadn’t walked away yet. “I'd prefer for my life to be private.”

“Then I’ll guarantee your privacy.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “What can you give me besides empty promises?”

“Anything you desire. Work with me, and I’ll make it happen.” That offer enticed him. No one had been this persistent with him yet, he scared off any manager that dared succor him. It was slightly entertaining, the way you burned ambition in your eyes, you were so easy to read. Most people wouldn’t look directly at him, and here you were, ready to follow him home if that’s what it took. He chuckled, and his massive hand reached for yours.

You shook hands, and your fates were sealed.

That was a year ago, and ever since then he’s been a thorn in your side. Nonstop drama and rectifying consumed your life. You didn’t think a man who spoke so little in public could talk so much around you. Whenever you argue—which is a frequent occurrence—his smirk grew wider at your frustration. You weren’t sure why you ever liked him in the first place. He only puts in effort when it comes to sparring, but you’re determined to ameliorate his standing, and in turn, yours.

The minute you open the doors to the hall, the sound of pummeled sandbags, clanking metal, and sneakers skidding across the floor roars in your ears. Some men are dialed in on abusing the inanimate objects, the rest tense through repetitions of dumbbell curls with a hiss. You're in quick strides, the phone arm's length away from you as the sponsor on the other end screams. Another petty drama surrounding Wriothesley grabs the attention of the internet. Luckily, you have thorough experience remedying this.

“What are you going to do? You’re fucking with my money!” you hear the faint voice. You bring the phone back to your ear.

“Don’t I always deal with it? He fights, I make up for the other half. Give me a few hours.”

“I’m not going to wa-” You hang up at the response.

You propel the double doors free into a large room with a boxing ring in the center. A group of trainers swarm the perimeter, you can barely see through.

“Don’t be scared!” one of them taunt towards the sparring partner, who has an unthinkable panic creeping in goosebumps dotting his skin. Each sloppy dodge tilts him more and more off balance against the strikes. Wriothesley has a powerful stature, with his back curving in a way that accentuates the rough muscle shaping his spine. You drone an annoyed sigh at the commotion and push yourself through them.

“Move it, move!” you yell, before jostling your way to the front of the ring.

“Wriothesley! Times up.” He turns his head to the side, unintentionally sparing his partner and glares at you.

“Two minutes.”

“No. Now.” you command. He looks up at nothing, as if considering his options if he cusses you out. Then he begrudgingly drops the gloves and pulls himself under the ropes. The group disperses from the lack of action and he’s mere inches from you now. Sometimes you forget how to breathe in his half-naked presence.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He mumbles while drying his head with a towel. His colossal forearms are raised over his head, highlighting the happy trail thick down his abdomen and tufts of hair on his armpits.

“You. How many times do I have to tell you not to train during recovery?” you seethe.

“Damn. Must’ve slipped my mind.” He doesn’t sound convincing in the slightest.

“Well then, I’ll be sure to remind you hourly.”

“Nah, I’m good. Hearing you once a day is enough.” He tosses the towel to you like his dutiful servant and grabs his water bottle. The liquid drips down his chin and on his shorts, hanging below his v-line.

Your eyebrow twitches from withheld vexation. “If you don’t want to hear me twice, I suggest you do what I tell you. We need to talk.” A heavy sigh leaves him as he stretches, and he passes you the water bottle. If you had the strength to collapse the bottle with one hand, you would. “Lead the way” he goads.

Wriothesley follows you through the backdoor of the gym to a secluded alleyway. When you get there, he immediately pulls out a cigarette you didn’t know he had. You were aware he smokes occasionally, but seeing it physically coaxed a strange worry in your gut. You twist your phone to him, to display evidence of him instigating an argument with Childe on social media. He reads in silence, briefly laughing at the recollection of his own comebacks, then lights the cigarette.

“What’s this? Didn’t I say keep a low profile?” you reprimand.

He drags in a deep breath of nicotine, and you eye the foul scent with distaste. He blows it above your unhappy face. “Calm down. Once a month thing. That fucker's testing me.”

“This can’t happen again, Wriothesley.” He ignores you to continue his mumbling. “I should break his neck like a twig. He’s lucky he didn’t say that shit to my face, fucking punk.” he grouses. You're struggling to gather your thoughts, the cigarette compacted between his thick fingers irritates you.

“We all appreciate your restraint, however-” you get closer, and yank the stick out his hand.

“No-!” Before he can finish, you promptly smudge it underneath your shoe. You aren’t sure how he’d react, but you didn’t expect him to sulk like a puppy.

“You aren’t doing this shit while I’m here.”

“Oh my god” he pouts, throwing his hands into his face and pulling them down.

“You’re lucky I don’t report it to the doctor. None of this, ever again.”

“Fuck, alright just...” he lets out a defeated sigh. “What do you want me to do about it? Apologize publicly?” You need him to do nothing; neither agency wants controversy, and it’d most likely be swept under the rug in just a couple days. You point his water bottle to him.

“Nope, I’ll handle it. Just sit there and be pretty.” you reassure. He leans down to your height with a sweet smile and even sweeter gaze.

“I do that well, don’t I?” he quips.

“You manage.” He latches onto the water bottle, and drinks from it in your hand while looking at you. A soft heat envelops you beyond words that never reach your lips.

“Listen to what I’m saying. Low. Profile.” Wriothesley comes up from thirst, dragging his tongue along the straw to the top, and licks his blushed lips. He delights in your flustered reaction.

“Low. Profile.” he repeats in a sarcastic drawl.

Later in the week, you receive a call in your office. It was fairly busy today, with coworkers constantly “checking in”, more so to see Wriothesley sitting across from you. He had no reason to be here, and you were surprised at his arrival. Be it boredom or a certain longing, a dull swell pulsed in his chest once he saw your overworked smile.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) of Boxe Association. May I know who I’m speaking with?” Wriothesley’s ears perk up at your sudden professionalism, and he mimics your cadence.

“Good afternoon, it’s Isadora.” Isadora was an event coordinator you previously worked with before your controversy. You understood that she stopped communicating to protect her business, but the pain lingered. You twirl the phone cord around your fingers, and meet eyes with Wriothesley, who’s laid back in the chair, his arms behind his head.

“Oh. Hey, it’s been a while.” you say. You turn your swivel chair away from him to continue the conversation. His eyebrow twitches slightly with an unconscious scowl, and he walks towards your chair.

“It has. I’m calling because I have a proposition that might interest you. I believe a meet and greet would be appropriate for your client. A large chunk of his fanbase are young adult women, however, he’s also popular with children.” He spins the chair around with a firm hand and presses his cheek against the phone.

“That’s true.” You side eye him, and without skipping a beat, mush his nosey face away. His hot breath on your digits makes your skin tingle.

“Who is that” he mumbles. You'd never seen Wriothesley interact with children, and you have every reason to be hesitant.

“Hmm...any positive activity with children is good publicity. I’ll consider it. I’ll let you know by tonight.” The second you hang up, you release his face.

“Why are you being annoying-”

“Who were you talking to” he chides.

“Isadora. She’s an event coordinator.” His clenched jaw unwinds. “She wants to do a meet and greet with you and a few kids. If we go through with this, I’ll have a camera crew and some reporters there. It’ll be good for your image.”

“Okay.” he agrees. That was quick.

“...Are you sure? Kids are loud and obnoxious a lot of the time.”

“So? Fine by me. I can teach them how to fight.” Your skin crawls at the thought of Wriothesley launching a child through a wall. “That won’t be necessary.”

“It’ll be fun.” The more he assures you, the more uneasy you feel.

“Wriothesley, I’m serious. Don’t screw this up” you plead. He holds his pinky out. “I won't.” His loose interpretation of promises was dubious at best, but you had no other options, and this might be your only opening. You curl to his word.

After parleying the finer details, you broadcast a raffle for young fans to meet Wriothesley. The traffic to the website was overwhelming, and you quickly began sorting out tickets for the favored winners.

Fortunately, the next couple of weeks were par for the course.

It’s the night before the event, and you’re getting ready for bed. You sit at your desk in a big T-shirt and do your daily review of personal data. As you're scrolling through and identifying what needs improvement, you get a notification on your phone.

“Breaking News: Boxer Bar Fight!” Curious, you open the tab to a video. It makes your breath stall, sweating frantically. You can’t think clearly, and your shaky hands can barely increase the volume. Unidentifiable noises and wobbly camerawork made it impossible to catch anything besides those familiar inky black strands, throwing punches in a drunken stupor at a defenseless man. Your previous conundrum flashes through your memory in a horrific stop-motion; the duping smile on his face.

No. It’s happening all over again. Why is he at a bar? You messaged him before he went to bed. He never goes to bars. Why now, the night before the event? It’s late, he doesn’t go anywhere without telling you.

He promised.

None of it made sense as you threw on any sweatpants in your drawer and ran out the door. You can’t wait until morning. Disaster punctures and tears any rational decision you contemplate. Shouting silently within your mind, a crashing rage—or sadness—boils in your nervous stomach. You’re tunnel vision in a taxi on the way to his address.

When you get there, you bang on the door with a fury that vibrates throughout the archway. His home is extravagant, with two cars and an expansive driveway. You bang again.

“Wriothesley!” He finally opens the door. He’s still half asleep, pajama pants low on his waist, groggily leaning against the arch.

“(Y/N)? Uh, what’s up?” He slurs in a deep slumbering voice through heavy eyelids. You barge in without saying anything. “Make yourself at home, I guess.”

The interior is just as opulent as the exterior, it almost looks untouched. Every corner has a case or shelf stacked with ornate trophies and medals of excellence. It was the home of someone who achieved peak perfection and reveled in it. He follows you to his living room, bewildered at your furious expression. You play the video in front of him, and he watches with that same puzzled attitude that makes you angrier. You try taking deep breaths to compose yourself, but they halt shallowly.

“What the fuck is this?” you accuse.

“What? I don’t know.” “Like hell you don’t know, this shit is on every homepage. Are you serious?”

The cranky boxer pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. You show up at his house, and it’s to badger him about a rumor. Your temperament only heats the smoldering ember fueled by incessant claims. He covers his mouth, physically stopping the involuntary response.

“Okay” he says, and blurts a facetious chuckle. Your heart thumps in your chest and ears.

“Oh, It’s a fucking joke? I bust my ass to save your career and you’re laughing?” you snap, voice increasing in volume until it reaches a broken peak. He returns with the same energy.

“When did I ask you to fix anything? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t fucking need you-”

“You can barely control your smoking habits you pompous ass-”

“I would if you didn’t nag me all the time. Whining and complaining, it’s fucking annoying!” he yells. Neither of you meant the words spilling out the bubbling surface, but your tongues were solely seasoned with the next spiteful jab.

“Yes, whining! Because all you need to do is be on the straight and narrow, but you take nothing seriously, Wriothesley, and that’s exactly why-”

“Exactly why what? Why your career went to shit so you’re piggybacking off mine?”

Your battle stops. You can’t find the words to rebuttal. All the opinions of your colleagues, the media, Wriothesley, and yourself coagulate into a lump that fills the tightening throat. Pride comforts tears brimming your eyes.

He pauses, as though he came to reality. An apology attempts to form on his lips, but it never manifests. “(Y/N), I didn’t-”

“See you in the morning” you choked. You walk to the door, and he reaches out to the infinite space thick between you two.

You didn’t sleep the entire night. It’s morning, and you’re exhausted. You consistently replayed the quarrel in your head through the taxi ride home, and when you strived for rest, it plagued your mind. Your coffee is untouched during your morning routine, a movement comparable to zombies. You don’t bother to confirm if Wriothesely is at the building—either way you owe it to the event holders to be there.

You arrive just before the children file into the training room. Thankfully, Wriothesley is there in the center. Live cameras from reporters and parents border the walls; if something were to occur, it would be irreversible. Your head suddenly hurts.

Perhaps playing it up for his reputation, the smile stretched across his face is a sunny warmth you’ve never seen from him. He waves to them, and they erupt with screams. To your astonishment, he gets on his knees to be eye level with them. They all jump into his arms at once, and he topples over onto the mat.

And he’s laughing. This grumpy asshole fighter is laughing. A hearty, genuine laugh as he wraps his sturdy arms around all of them and picks them up at once. He whirls them around and they orchestrate high-pitched giggles. “Ready to have some fun?” he chortles. They say yes to varying degrees of excitement, and the meet and greet proceeds.

You can’t help but smile when he frolics with the kids. They chase him with boxing gloves, he pretends to fall dramatically. Dogpiling him, he lets out a shrill scream of defeat. He manages to work in proper defense techniques while they jump him like a test dummy. He tosses each kid in the air whenever they ask, and never tells them no. You receive another call from Isadora amid your admiration, and you step outside.

“Hey! Good news, these views are off the charts and the internet is really in his favor right now” she congratulates.

“That’s great...what about the video from last night? Did you see it?” you ask.

“Video...oh, that! Don’t worry, it’s confirmed fake.” What? Oh no. Immediate regret stirs in your blood, and you force the phone away to catch your breath. You feel utterly stupid.

“Hello?” You quickly bring the phone back to your ear. “Yea, sorry. I have to go; I’ll call you later.” you insist. You can’t facepalm any harder. You make your way back to the training room, where the kids decorate his gloves with iridescent stickers. Wriothesley occasionally looks at you, but you can’t bear to show your guilty face.

When the event is over, you both make sure to hug every child on the way out and thank the parent for coming. You’re sorting through mountains of requests people made to see Wriothesley again, and you mute your phone over the influx of emails. Peeking at the broadcast, under the footage in bold letters:

“(Y/N) Back from the Dead?”

It wasn’t the most flattering title, but it proved that public perception was salvageable. You emit a sigh of relief, for you and Wriothesley. As you’re packing your things to exit, he blocks the door with his body.

“Can we talk?” You were dreading this discussion, but agreed, nonetheless. The ride to his home is silent, you grapple with a proper apology.

You lean against the kitchen bar, while he’s laxing on the couch. Sleep deprivation torments you, causes you to wander as you fill in papers from sponsors. You can’t see the way Wriothesley steals glances at your slack figure curving to the marble. He eventually spoke.

“So, um.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. You did a good job today Wriothesley, you should be proud.” You flash a meek smile. He fumbles with his thumbs uncomfortably.

“I am. Aren’t I the best?” he boasts.

“You are” you say. The lack of sleep beckons you to a spur of honesty as you scribble. “You have stunning form, perfect accuracy, and immeasurable talent. Not just anyone can do that.” you return. He gazes at you, that dull swell pumping in his veins again. The cozy radiance of lights brightens your tired eyes.

“You’re a big fan, huh?” he chuckles.

“Of course, I used to watch you in college. I had a major crush on you” you snort. “Everything you are is amazing, but you know this. So cut it out.” He sits on the armrest, swallowing your confessions. The room is entirely too hot, he needs alleviation—he needs you.

“Sorry. For what I said.”

“Forget it. It's my fault, I was careless. I apologize.” you admit.

“You know I didn’t do it, right?”

“I know.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.” you reassure.

“What if some other bullshit controversy comes out. Then what?” You stop writing to give him your full attention.

“Then, I’ll trust you. We’ve gotten this far. Even if no one else does, even if for some reason I lose my job and I’m not your manager anymore, I’ll trust you, Wriothesley.” you reveal. He doesn’t move. Wriothesley knew he wasn’t deserving of trust, and he’d made a plethora of mistakes throughout your arrangement. You had every right to leave him long ago. Nobody gave him the time of day or cared for his wellbeing like you did, but he couldn’t reciprocate. Even so, here he kneels, at the feet of an angel that shows him undying mercy.

Wriothesley stalks at you, but you remain. He looms over you, pinning you to the counter with both arms, inches from your face. It isn’t a threatening force, but one that begs for confirmation. That slated storm searches for a specific craving, you feel his chest rising and falling laden with yours.

“You’re too close” you quiver. The bitter musk and vanilla enveloping your senses makes you foggy, it lingers through the whole house.

“Tell me to leave.” His mouth slants to you, and he waits expectingly. You ogle his features, the scratches of a warrior celebrated across his hardy torso. His hair brushes against your forehead, imperfect and uniquely beautiful. Why were you mad, again?

“Tell me to back off, (Y/N)” he pleads. The pads of your fingers lightly caress his ear, then his jaw.

“Please” he whispers. Your thumb grazes his bottom lip, and he succumbs to the urge.

You collide fervently, lips coated in definitive desire. Dancing with rough, bruising kisses that don’t make space for air. It smears on your face, dips down your neck and swiftly returns to your lonely mouth. The pressure of the counter bar burns across your lower back from his weight, but those mind-numbing kisses soften any injury. You bite his lip when he pulls away, and he groans. Suddenly, he lifts you effortlessly with his hands on your ass, and you clash teeth and tongue in a passionate challenge. He demands entry, and you moan into the wet mass intertwining through sloppy kisses. It explores your mouth, sending throbs to your nerves and subdues any control you have left. Your arms are wrapped around his neck, but you yearn for deeper contact. He licks up the organ, and spots moist, hungry kisses on your jaw. You both take a fleeting breath before converging again. You find passage in his hair and suck staining rose-colored marks on his neck while he carries you to the bedroom.

“You’ve been waiting for this, hm? Slutty groupie” Wriothesley moans. You drag kisses along the shell of his ear. He tosses you onto the fluffy bedding and haphazardly strips to his underwear. The wide mirror opposite his bed gives you a glimpse of his thighs and shapely bottom hugging the briefs. You’re supposed to be undressing, but that thronging bulge made for a titan makes you nervous for what’s to come. He palms the erection to soothe the ache and climbs over you. He’s somewhat gentle, careful with the bulk of his body as he cradles your face for more kisses. The way he looks at you, a covet softness or misted lust tantalizing the wetness pooling in your panties. He moves to your neck, French kissing down your throat and on your collarbone. You feel like a virgin again, heart racing from every graze of his fingers and lips. His calloused digits grope the plush fat of your thighs, and gradually reach the hem of your skirt. You snake your hands over his pecs and abs and read the muscles. Moaning into each other's mouths, indulging every part of your bodies as you’ve wanted to do for months. He pulls your skirt off and you hold your button-down over your exposed panties. Heat spreads in your body, and he amuses at your sudden bashfulness.

“Oh…you’re shy?” he teases, before popping the buttons off with a brutal rip. “Wrio!” you yelp. That’s the first time you called Wriothesley a nickname; he must’ve died and went to heaven. The lace gift wrapped around your breasts taunts him, and he buries his face immediately. He nips the sensitive skin and snaps the clasp off. “Cute. Need to feel you” he husks. He twirls the bud in his mouth, while manipulating the other between his girthy fingers. Alternating among loving hickies and harsh tugs of his teeth on your nipple. You whine, and his laugh tickles your raw skin. He flips over on his back and steadies you on top of him. Discards the rest of your top, and let’s out a shaky groan.

“You’ve never been this speechless” he says. You smile and kiss his puffy lips, your hands kneading his chest. “You’re so pretty” you coo. He huffs while rubbing circles on your waist, eyeing your inner thighs covered in juices.

“Then come fuck my pretty face.” He slips under the waistband and tweaks the fabric, but you grip his wrists. “Wait! Let me shower first- “

“You said you'd give me anything I desire, remember that? Keep your promise." He yanks the thin material down your legs in your weak clutches, trailing a string of drool that sticks to your labia. “C’mere” he grunts and lifts you towards his face. Your thighs are soft on either side of him, and you still in his grasp. He lolls his tongue out, but you’re reluctant to fully sit. “I’m heavy” you murmur.

“Shut up.” He embraces your body, and you have no choice but to settle in his warmth. He keeps you flush with his flat tongue, swiping up and down the squishy flesh molding to his mouth. You writhe in his grasp, but he continues to lap at your clit with a starving lust. Wriothesely soaks in your velvet skin and perfumed essence dribbling down his chin. He doesn’t come up for air, and your brain is mush over him, his lips slurping your quivering cunt. A buzzing intensity courses through your twitching stomach. You rut your hips against his mouth, and he maintains his position while you use him. You’re grinding on his tongue, absent-mindedly biting your lips and mewling endlessly as you bring yourself closer to climax. He hums while sucking the nub and the vibrations make you cry out.

“Wrio, ‘m coming” you whine. You hump his mouth until you come undone in a pulsating finish. His hands restrain you, greedily devouring the newly found honey as it pours out. You ride it through while he curls the tip of his tongue at your opening. Without warning, you feel the pink muscle push in your recovering vulva. “S-Shit, Wrio” you whimper, trembling on him as he drives inside. He seizes the back of your thighs and begins to bounce you up and down the mushy appendage slowly stretching you. The sensation is overwhelming, his nose skims your oversensitive clit each time you drop, and you sob. Wriothesley moves faster, your hands entangle in his hair. You babble please’s repeatedly, gazing sensually at each other as the coil winds in your gut. More, more. Then it snaps, an abrupt shock, clenching on his tongue as you cream. He raises your lower half; the wetness collecting in your convulsing heat makes his cock strain more than it already suffered.

“Such a cute slut” Wriothesley husks. Your numb legs can’t navigate on their own, so he places you on your stomach. “We’re not done.” He springs his throbbing length free. The veins are consistent, prominent up his shaft to the angry red crown—9 inches begging to be inside you. Fresh precome trickles down his tip and he sighs at the bloated pain in his hefty balls. You arch your back, presenting yourself to his awaiting size. When he doesn’t enter you turn to him impatiently and he smirks.

“Put it in” you whine. Wriothesley spreads your backside, and watches you clench around the ghost of him. He glazes himself with your slick, and moans from the feeling of your puffy lips cuddling his cock. “It’s not every day a fan gets to sleep with me. Be grateful.” he teases. He pumps through your squashed thighs, the head prodding your nub while he forces your chest flush with the bed. After he thoroughly coats himself, he nudges the bulbous tip to your entrance.

Wriothesley sinks into your sex. You’re gripping him like a vice despite the searing soreness of your body accommodating the scale. The fevered sleeve nearly makes him crash to the hilt, but he stutters gradually to relieve your discomfort. He hits the base and shudders. You feel unbelievably stuffed, as if it’s squirming in your cervix. Then he starts at a savage pace. He’s using you like a flesh-light, balls smacking your overwhelmed tender nub with a carnal impulse. His moans spill uncontrollably as he watches your rippling ass and viscous webs blend together, clinging to his cock and forming a cloudy froth at the base. Your knuckles turn white on the sheets; you can’t think or feel anything that isn’t him, core surging with intense want.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gonna snap my dick off. Ah- gonna make sure you can’t walk t-tomorrow. Then- hah- then you won’t be able to find anyone who fucks you like this, who makes you come like this.” He’s rambling and stuttering, completely incoherent the closer he gets. He glances at the mirror, then at you. You feel your hair jerked back by his massive hand, and lock eyes with Wriothesley in his drunken haze. “Stop, it’s embarrassing!” you slur. You’re both sheened with sweat, disheveled bodies satiating the hunger in any way you can.

“Shh, you hear that?” The squelching slam of passion echoes in the room, sopping down your leg through his pummeling thrusts. Your back bends unnaturally as though it were folded in half. “You’re so fucking hot, so needy for me.” His veins adorn your walls, you start to tear up from the mixture of pleasure and pain. He notices your tears and holds you up so that your back is flush with his chest.

“It hurts?” he questions, stalling his movement. You feel him twitch. “No, feels s’good Wrio. More” you mewl. He chuckles, and gently wraps his hand around your throat before pumping again.

“Too good? Am I the best you’ve ever had? Say it.” He moves faster, free hand rubbing your clit. Your knees buckle and eyes roll back to your skull, he takes in the scene of your convulsing figure in the mirror. “S’best I’ve ever had, please ‘m so close!” you rasp, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. He chases his high, panting animalistically in your ear.

“Shit- look how desperate you are. Want me to come inside? Y-yea, I bet you fucking do”

“‘M coming!” you babble.

“Good. Make a mess.” he commands. Fire trails up your limbs, and you tighten before falling apart. Fluttering around him, taking him deeper while you come on his sack. Wriothesley pursues his sputtering hips, spurting thick globs that paint you white. He whimpers as you milk his spasming length dry and presses tired kisses along your shoulder blade. When he comes down from his apex, he turns you over on your back. It’s hard for him to not be proud of your boneless existence sprawled on his bed. You’re both breathing hard in silence, and he leaves for a couple minutes. You’re stunned when he returns with a damp rag to clean you up, and some dark substance in a mug.

You find the strength to sit up while he wipes your lower areas. “Where are my clothes?”

“...For what?” he mumbles.

“To leave?” It seemed like common sense to you—boxers usually don’t go for long-term relationships, and so you assumed it to be a one-night stand. You dip over the edge of the bed and locate your skirt, but Wriothesely hops up and snatches it before you can. “I’ll put it in the wash. Relax.”

“I didn’t know you were so hospitable. Do you do this for every girl?” you tease. He gets visibly upset, and shoves the cup from the dresser in your hands. “Don’t piss me off. Now, drink. I’ll order food.”

Multicolored sunset flaking through the sheer curtains frames his stature while he’s on the phone. You sip the tea, it’s a vile grainy taste. For a moment you imagine what life could be like with him by your side—poor quality tea and an awful temper. In your pleasant aftermath, it doesn’t seem bad at all.

#genshin smut #genshin au #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley #fontaine #genshin x reader #genshin impact

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tonixe · 10 months

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ਏਓ `cute little housewife

``a/n: I'm back, and I have so many good ideas for Coriolanus it is so crazy, so be ready for that. And also if yall have any ideas DM them or request them <3.

warning: p in the v, unprotective, creampie, somnophillia, breeding kink. ** (not proofread)

pairing: Coriolanus x wife!reader

word counter: 1.1k

It's been too long since you have seen your husband, he was always busy in the capitol.

You knew his schedule by heart, knowing he was mostly busy throughout the day and night. You tried to wait on the parlor, laying down on a velvety couch and resting your head on the armrest. It was already 12 when you looked at Big Ben's clock staring at you. Opening the fridge and placing the food in, stretching your body back. Before walking to the bathroom, turning the knob and the hot water flooded out of the faucet to the tub. Putting your hand in the water, it was warm. It was already too late to wait for him any further, so you thought to get ready for bed.

Putting some bath bombs inside, hearing the sizzling of the bath bomb, with the colorful colors diffusing into the water making it look vibrant. Turning off the running water, strip off the clothing on your body. Stepping inside the tub, relaxing your shoulders, and laying your head back.

Parting your legs, allowing your muscles to relax. "Finally" You whispered, closing your eyes and easing your joints. The steam of the water fogged up the mirrors, You laid down in there for an hour, before stepping out and wrapping your wet body with a warm towel. Putting your feet on the fluffy carpet. You did your usual routine changing into a light nightgown that draped your body fully, it was fairly hot today. Getting into your luxurious shared king-sized bed. Closing your eyes, You slipped into the dream world.

Coriolanus stepped onto the porcelain flooring, as it was the large doors were closed by guards. Coriolanus felt pent up from work, walking down to your guy's shared bedrooms. Taking off his shoes and throwing his jacket somewhere else, loosened his tie as he walked to the bedroom. Immediately looking at your peaceful figure on the bed. He found it cute, walking to your side and looking at your calm sleeping face.

He felt ashamed feeling the need for you, your nightgown was skimpy and it was see-through. Exposing every curve of your body and your breasts. His hand touches your face gently. You did stir from that sudden movement. The sudden movement lifted the blanket from your body, making your body more visible to his eyes, making you stir a little bit. His eyes widen at the lack of panties you had, his hands flipping your nightgown over revealing your slit. The cold air makes you almost wake up before he traces your folds making you tense up, your legs locking in his hand. "Haah~" you moan through your lips at the feeling, Before he gently opens your legs, sliding one of his fingers into you, he hears quiet moans from your lips.

Making him more excited, thrusting a few more digits into you, more moans came out of your mouth, as he heard some groaning. Feeling your cunt getting wetter, he felt you tensing up against his finger before he withdrew. Your were deep asleep, rubbing your legs together. Looking at your figure, your body was hot and a blush covered your face, heavy breathing coming from you. "Please–" you murmured out.

He hovered himself above your sleeping form, being careful to not wake you up, playing with his belt slipping off his pants then his boxers. He line himself to your slit, and before thrusting into you, he groaned out in pleasure. He slid into you before his hips collided with yours, your moans becoming louder, "Fuck" he whispered.

Ripping off the top of the nightgown, rolling your nipples with his finger, feeling your nipples getting harder as you got tighter around him. Placing the palm of his hand on the bed, his hips smacking yours, his ball hitting your lower core. Your walls massaged his cock, as he groaned pushing his cock further into you. "Haah~" moans rolling off your tongue, "Corio~" You murmured.

He grabs your thighs and presses them down onto your chest, he gets on top of you, his chest pressing yours, as he thrusts into you, feeling you tighten around him, his ears hearing your heavy breathing.

You woke up almost as soon as he was getting to his climax, "Honey?" your tired eyes looked at him, rubbing your eyes. Your eyes felt heavy, as you moaned. "Fuck, I just really need you" he growled into your ear, moving out and in, before his lips touched yours, in a hot kiss. a string of saliva between both of your lips, looking down at your core, his cock slipping out of you and forceful going back in, making you jolt. "Corio—" you moaned.

His hips smacking onto yours, his hands putting your legs onto your chest, into a better mating press. He looked at your fucked out face, your body feeling ecstasy and pleasure. You felt his pace slowing down, feeling his climax coming in soon, your eyes looking at the messy scene in between your legs. "I'm going to give a little cute baby inside of you" He groaned into your ear, groping your tits.

Realizing your nightgown was gone, your body is unveiled to him. Feeling his hot load painting your gummy walls, he shoved himself into you, fucking the cum into your hole. Your hands gripping the sheets, as you cummed too, feeling a rush of hot liquid dripping out of you. Before he slips out of you, his soft cock is pulled out of you. You missed the warm length inside of you. The erotic scene of your naked exposed body and your pussy dripping from his cum, your dewy, sweaty body, and the ripped fabric around your body.

You were still tired, and weary. You tried to lean onto the headrest but failed, your back laying onto the soft mattress, Looking down at the mess between your legs. Rubbing your eyes, yawning. "Come" You motioned him towards you, patting the side of the bed, "Lay down"

The way you looked made him hard again, the lewd and vulgar scene of your body, white liquid dripping out of your pussy, your breast decorated with little hickies and bites. Bruises and marks on your waist and your hair were a mess. Sounds of panting echoed in the chamber of the room, he obeyed laying next to you still in the nude. He pushed your body close to you, rubbing your waist gently. Feeling him pressed onto your ass. Feeling him close to made you feel safe, his hand secure around you, you felt your eyes drooping down and falling asleep again, with his hands around you.

#coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x you #corio snow #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #president coriolanus snow #tbosas x reader #tbosas movie #tbosbas #tbosas #president snow x reader #snow x reader #snow x you

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lomlompurim · 9 months

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What if instead of waking up in the mushroom body, sqq woke up in a doll.

Something something while lbh was away in the abyss, sqq without noticing offended a misterious (demonic-succubi-esque???) cultivator with a weird thing for making dolls. She had dolls all over her secret workshop that she very kindly let him into when she heard about the famous Xiu Ya sword being in the city.

What she wanted of him? Who knows, sqq couldn't bring himself to care. She probably wanted his money or try to steal his hair, the hair of those dolls seemed very much like real hair, although he had to admit the level of details on these dolls were amazing.

(she wanted to trick him into buying one of her cursed dolls and steal his life energy little by little, but got wifebeamed by widow sqq during their conversation about how talented she was to be able to make so many dolls, and without really understanding he rejected her with little to no emotion on his face)

So she cursed him, and since sqq didn't feel anything bad at the moment he thought it just didn't work and left, not sparing the curse a single thought after their encounter.

The rest of the story goes as usual, excep that after he self detonates his soul doesn't go into the mushroom body, instead it got directly into the shape of a doll in the workshop of this woman.

His first thought is thinking someone snitched the mushroom body bc wtf wasn't he supposed to wake up under the dirt??? Why this place smells slightly familiar? Like paint and humidity and floral perfumes?? and why everything looks fucking giganourmus?!?! A teapot should NOT look that big from his position....Oh no, did the mushroom body turned out as small as a squirrel? WhAT is happening?!

And then he looks at his arms and legs, and he has joints. White paper skin with joints in his wrists, elbows, torso, waist, knees, feet. And he panics, a lot.

The woman who cursed him starts monologuing about how she trapped him now, and you are mine, I made this doll specially for you master shen, this is my revenge for your insolence to leave me yada yada- Sqq stoped listening a while ago.

Somehow he manages to escape from this woman and now he is roaming around as the size of some apples. Everything is huge. Everything is dangerous, even the grasshopers! And this body is fragile! He can't feel heat nor cold, neither hunger or other things, but he is useless with no spiritual veins inside, and if someone is not looking carefully, they might crush him. And the way back to cq is gonna be a hell of a trip! But he needs airplane to fix this. He can't stay as a doll forever! He needs a mushroom body and then fly into the sunset far from this mess! Adiós! Goodbye! So his new plan is to infiltrate into cang qiong, look for that rat and disappear. Sneaking into some disciple's pouch must be enough to break in.

Something something it only had passed a few months since lbh stole sqq's body and everything is still very fresh. CQ mountain is a hot mess. Sqh frankly needs to lay down and take a nap. Lqg keeps figthing with Lbh practially every day and coming back beaten bloody, he has his king pestering him and a lot of paperwork to do, Lbh is a pain in the ass, Yqy is really close to snap and start a war with HHP, and he knows nothing about his bro. So yeah. Such a great time to be alive.

The mushroom bodies should had been ready, right? He must be alright...Yeah. He has enough already to keep him busy. Cucumber bro is gonna come out and stumble across at any moment. No one would bat an eye if he takes a nap, right? He deserves it. He is overworked enough for another lifetime, his head hurts, his bones hurt everywhere, a short nap should be fine...

Until he feels something small tugging his robes and a cold tiny finger poking his eyelids. But he doesn't want to. He is very comfortable on the floor of his office. Whatever bird decided to pick a fight with his face can keep trying.

"AIRPLANE, WAKE UP, YOU HACK! I NEED YOU TO FIX THIS! WHY IS A WITCH WITH ANACHRONISTIC HAUNTED DOLLS IN THIS NOVEL? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

That voice. That fucking annoying voice was of just one person and one person only. He opened his eyes, looking for the source of the unmistakable voice of his No1 hater, but he came across with a pretty porcelain doll. With a very ugly sneer in it's face.

"W-Wha-?...Bro-?!"

"Fucking finally! Why are you sleeping on the floor in your ofice?! I was looking around your bedroom like an idiot! Do you know how close I was to falling from your window?!"

-TBC-

#svsss #shen qingqiu #人渣反派自救系统 #I don't have a lot about this au bc I just imagined it today #shen yuan in a doll body au #I still need to reach lbh #oh boy that is a can of worms idk if im prepared to open #so any idea of how to progress the story is welcome #since he would be still in his strongest shock and denial #what if sqh has to bring sqq along w him to hhp bc he has there all his plans and secret stuff idk #or to use any hhp treasure or smt #too many posibilites and imma sleep #wip #shang qinghua #I got this idea while watching Barbie

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jamespotterismydaddy · 11 months

Text

Traded Posession

Dark!jacaerys x reader

A/N: I definitely did not do this request justice but I also feel like this would have to be a series if I did and I probs should finish a series before I start a new one😭

Pt 2 here

TW: DUBCON, smut, semi public sex, degration, talks of death, size kink

word count: 1,656 words

They call you a witch, all of them. How else would an unremarkable peasant girl get the attention of Aemond Targaryen? You spend your days at his side, bathed in blood as you lick his dagger clean. You’re his perfect accomplice. You like to think that he cares for you, loves you even but in this moment, you realize just how wrong you are.

The Kinslayer has fled King’s Landing and Prince Jacaerys has claimed it. He leaves you behind like a toy that he has tired of.

The next few days are a blur. Cregan Stark’s

men are the ones to find you after your

failed attempts to escape the city. In hindsight, it was silly to think you’d make it to Harrenhall anyhow, make it to your lover. After you are arrested, they promptly throw you into the dungeon, the dungeon where you have been left to rot for the past few days.

This is when you truly realize that he’s not coming for you. He’s. Not. Saving. You. And you were an idiot to think otherwise.

You’re getting close to having been left alone too long with your thoughts when the door to your cell clangs open. Two guards walk in and lift you under each arm, to your feet.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You ask, happy to be taken out of the dungeon but unsure if it’s out of the frying pan and into the fire.

“His Grace has summoned your presence.” The guard on the left says as they drag you to the throne room.

When you arrive, the doors are thrown open and you stumble in, the guards’ pace much quicker than your own. You come to a halt and someone says, “You stand in the presence of the Dragon Prince, Jacaerys, Heir to the Iron Throne and future Protector of the Realm.”

Jacaerys Velaryon stares down at you from the Iron Throne, a cold gaze in his eyes. “Kneel.” He commands and when you don’t immediately obey, your legs are kicked out at the joint and you fall to your knees. He just looks at you for a moment. “You’re much plainer than I had suspected.” He comments offhandedly.

“Sorry to disappoint.” You say with a grimace.

A hand strikes you across the face. “You will use the proper honourifics when you address the prince, whore.” The guard on the right spits out at you.

“There’s no need for that at the moment, Ser.” Jacaerys says and then smirks. “Actually, i’ll have the room cleared.

“Your Grace.” The guards bow and then exit the room dutifully.

“I was truly pleased when we captured you, girl. I had this whole plan to trade you to my traitor of an uncle just to make him watch as I burned you alive instead…” He trails off. It’s almost like he’s telling you a story rather than describing your fate. “It was all going to be proper vengeance for my brother. Though, you’re not nearly as innocent as he was, are you?” The way he speaks is so casual that it could almost unnerve you, if it wasn’t for your experience with one bloodthirsty Targaryen already. “Imagine my surprise when I send a messenger to him and the boy returns, cockless, with a note that says I can keep you.”

You try not to let the hurt show on your face. After all you’ve done for him, Aemond couldn’t give a shit whether you live or die.

“Ahh disappointed, are you? So am I.” He says simply. “I was actually so terribly disappointed that I found that sweet little village you’re from and burnt it down instead.”

The blood drains from your face. “W-What?”

“You were not useful to me so I burnt your fucking village to the ground.”

You don’t feel like the powerful woman you were at Aemond’s side at this point. You don’t even know how you feel. Your silence reflects your shock.

“Is that all you can show your future king, a blank stare? The more I look at you, the more I can’t believe how the cyclops was so beguiled. You’re nothing.” He says with a cruel disappointment.

You stare him down, angrily now and you spit on the ground in front of you.

“Are you trying to prove something to me, wench? All I can see is that you are perhaps a bit more reckless than an average peasant. Do you care for your life at all?” He asks, like he thinks you’re stupid.

“Yes, your Grace.” You say, thinking it would be unwise to lie. Spitting at his feet was unwise as well but perhaps pride is your fatal flaw… perhaps.

“Come here.” He says, beckoning you with his fingers. You follow his command, stopping at his feet. He points down. “Kneel.” You feel inclined to disobey, Aemond liked that defiance but this man is harder to read, frightening in a different way.

“I plead your mercy, my prince.” Grovelling usually is the safest bet.

“You really cannot decide how to act, can you? I intend to find your purpose.” He grabs you by the chin and tilts your head up. “Let’s start with the most logical.” He unbuckles his belt and you know exactly what he desires.

The prince is well endowed, you know it before he releases himself, but you could not have expected him to be this sizable. He laughs at your reaction. “Judging by the look on your face, Aemond’s cock is small.”

Not small. You think to yourself. But compared to this…

“I don’t doubt that you know what to do. I trust you won’t try anything stupid” He says seriously.

Stupid like biting his cock off.

He’s right though, you do know what to do, taking him in your mouth as much as you can and beginning to suck, you quickly realize Jacaerys is bored. You speed up your movements, just the way Aemond used to like it. The quick pace usually is pleasing to most men… you thought, but the way the prince slumps back in his throne says otherwise. He examines one of the swords next to him in a distant sort of interest and after a few moments, he grips your hair and pulls you off.

“I see now why he didn’t come back for you. You’re like a broken toy.”

You just gaze up at him from under your lashes. “It’s how he liked it.”

Jace scoffs. “What a surprise. You have no technique. I suppose you can learn. I expected you’d be a fully trained pet but oh well.” He brings your head close again. “Go slower this time.” He tells you and you do, taking the head into your mouth and beginning to suckle like a little lamb. “Better.”

You lick up his shaft and then try to take him fully into your mouth again. He never completely fits but you bring your hand up to aide yourself. He guides your movements, pulling on your hair back and forth. You gag almost every time but it would be pretty much impossible not to with how big he is. Though he seems to get off on both, it’s more the motions than your suffering that brings him pleasure.

“Good. Now get up.” He says as he pulls you off again. He stands as well and though he’s not as tall as aemond, he’s still taller than you. “Bend over.”

“Over what, your Grace?”

He sighs and rolls his eyes, like you’re more of a nuisance than anything. He then swiftly grabs you by the waist and manhandles you so you’re bent over the iron throne. Though, you make yourself pliable for him.

“You would think that as a prince, I wouldn’t have to do all this work.” He rucks up your skirts and tugs down your smallclothes. He sees your folds glistening with wetness. “Oh gods, you like all this? What a pretty little cunt you have.” He says as he rubs his hand through it. “Let’s see if it’s enough to truly make a man cunt-struck.” He then slips himself inside of you, so slowly that you think that it makes it hurt more rather than less.

“Ah-ah…” you whimper out once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

“I almost didn’t think I’d get it all the way in.” He laughs a little before beginning to thrust lazily. “Maybe this was the only reason he kept you around. It wasn’t enough though, was it? He still abandoned his little whore.” He chuckles and begins to thrust a little harder now. “Nothing to say? You were so confident at the cyclops’s side you seemed to have lots to say then.”

“My prince…” you moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you, his thick cock filling you up deliciously.

“Say my name when I fuck you.”

“Mmm, Jacaerys.” You whine out as his hands come to your hips, his thrusts making you unsteady.

“Perhaps I’ll keep you around. Make you my little fuck toy.” His thrusts get quite rough now. He’s angry and taking it out on you. And you could swear that his thrusts are so deep that his cock is in your tummy. You feel his fingertips on your pearl.

“Please, Jacaerys.” You beg him for release.

“Begging now? Gods maybe my stupid fucking uncle just enjoyed how pathetic you are, but you don’t care about him now, do you? You’re my whore now.” His hips keep slamming against yours and his words make you hit your peak, the possession of them enticing you. The way you constrict around him has the young prince hitting his peak as well. He spills his seed deep inside you and then immediately pulls out.

“I’m going to my chambers. I’ll have you bathed and delivered there in an hour.” He says before descending the steps and leaving you there, slumped over the iron throne.

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

#hotd #hotd smut #jacaerys velaryon smut #jacaerys #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys targaryen #aemond targaryen #aemond

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filled-with-fat · 1 month

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My best friend made me fat and I didn’t even realise

I’ve known Jared since 4th grade, when he joined my elementary school in Houston. Initially, we weren’t really that close, but our parents worked together, and so gradually both our families become inseparable friends.

Aged 10, I was incredibly skinny, I didn’t eat a lot, some of the teachers at school even thought I had an eating disorder. Whereas, Jared on the other hand was a fairly chubby kid.

We would spend every summer together on a joint family trip, sometimes we would go to Disneyland, other times we would go to Mexico. Being with Jared and his family was always a fun time, and some of my best memories from being a teenager were when we were together.

When me and Jared graduated high school, we both went to the same college, and by chance got allocated the same dorm. My lifelong best friend, who I had spent nearly every second of my teenage years with, was now sharing the EXACT SAME dorm as me at college. Honestly we couldn’t believe the coincidence, but nevertheless we were both really thankful we didn’t have to share a room with a total stranger!

Aged 18, Jared was definitely on the larger side, just as he had always been, and I was still the skinny twink that could fit a size 0. But that all changed after sharing a room with Jared for a year … now that I was away from home, I had to start preparing meals for myself, and both me and Jared were not very accustomed to cooking … Jared would order takeout almost every night, and I was too lazy to make something healthy, so we would sit on his bed, watching our favourite Netflix series, eating pizza after pizza after pizza. It become our daily routine. Some nights we would venture to the on-campus Mcdonalds with some of our friends, or buy pre-prepared meals to heat in the microwave, but that was the closest we got to cooking our own food. Jared had some disgusting eating habits too, I suppose all guys of his size would, he would wake up at 3am, and stuff down a full bag of chips. I’m embarrassed to admit I started doing the same when I began to get hungry in the night 😅

Slowly but surely, me and Jared started packing on the pounds. All the effects of our unhealthy eating habits took a toll on our bodies. Jared got bigger, a lot bigger. My once chubby friend was now a 400lbs sophomore. And I had grown a protruding gut that spilled over my fat pad and thighs. We were both alarmingly fat, but I didn’t notice, honestly, and neither did Jared. Eating together had become our new obsession, it was our thing. During the day on campus Jared would go out of his way to come find me, insisting that we had to eat together. He said he only felt comfortable eating around me, that only I shared his love for food. I started seeing a side to my best friend that I had never seen before.

As the end of year approached, and we got allocated different rooms for the next semester, me and Jared found out that we would no longer be sharing a dorm. Jared became hysterical. I returned to our dorm to find him eating the chocolate-frosted cake I had stored in our freezer. He looked at me, almost embarrassed by his appearance. A 20 year old man, 400lbs fat, lying on his bed scoffing his face with cake, his mouth, cheeks and hands covered in chocolate. Jared told me how he had loved sharing a dorm with me, and that he didn’t want to come back to college unless we would continue to be in the same dorm. He said he loved our late night snacking, and how some nights we would fall asleep together after binge eating Burger King. Jared said he loved me. My childhood best friend, whom I had spent all of my best teenage years with, now confessed he had feelings for me. At that point, I leant in to pick up a piece of cake, and held it in front of his chocolate-covered mouth, he began to smile as I fed it to him.

#fat #fat as fuck #fat piggy #fat moobs #fat arms #gay fatty #fatboy #immobile feedee #fatty #big fatty #male gaining #make me huge #make me bigger #too fat #fat fiction

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cannibaled · 6 months

Text

my bf felix catton headcanons

semi-nsfw ☆

boob + ass man —

it's just true. not even in a relatively sexual sense always, either. he likes lying on your breasts when you cuddle or even your ass if you're laying on your stomach and reading or something. also playfully smacks it, though.

cigarette sharing —

he also likes holding out his cigarette so you can take a hit. like farleigh, he shotguns, and he'll also light your cigarette or joint for you!

pda —

he's big on handholding, and keeping an arm around you. let's be real. he's possessive, and this is a silent way of telling other people to fuck off.

music —

rock music all the way. when you're studying or he's driving you guys somewhere, it's always on blast — his playlist consists of the killers, kings of leon, the strokes, and muse. there's probably some classic rock in there, too. i'm sure he likes parking somewhere at times to kiss to it.

size difference —

referring back to him being a breast man, this is where this especially comes into play. his hands are HUGE. and no matter what size you are, he likes showing that through gripping your breasts. your waist, breast, hips, face... he fucking loves it.

sex life —

he's all about foreplay, but while he likes giving you head, he prefers using his fingers. that way he can hover over you and kiss you, and talk you through your orgasm while also being able to feel it. he's freaky.

pet names —

'love', 'darling', 'baby, 'babe'... there's a variety of pet names he uses for you tbh

i love yous —

i can see him actually being sort of nervous and shy to say i love you. he's had relationships, but none serious. you're different, and he's scared. probably stutters when saying it, and gets the biggest puppy-dog smile when you repeat it.

arguments —

he's popular. he's popular and getting used to actual commitment. so, there may be things he says or does that he doesn't register as wrong because of that. old habits that he has to kill. i also see him being a natural flirt, so that's probably a big argument kicker. almost all your arguments end with him storming away, or grabbing your face and kissing you feverishly.

hopeless —

a big image and post sender. also, voice notes! he likes sending you posts and songs that remind him of you. also, he feels voice notes are more sentimental than regular texts.

party life —

he's the life of the party, but that doesn't mean he can't still be a good boyfriend. ALWAYS dances with you, if not his friends and keeps you in his line of sight. gets drinks for you, and bringing you along for smoke breaks.

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix x reader #oliver quick #saltburn #farleigh #farleigh start #jacob elordi #barry keoghan #archie madekwe

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myspacebrat · 10 months

Text

𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝…

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

★ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you leave your best friend and Hawkins behind your junior year to move to the city of angels with your parents, what your best friend Eddie never expected was to see you on the cover of the newest playboy issue five years later, and holy shit was he anything but disappointed.

★ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, no mentions of race, hair color/texture, or body size, readers nickname is angel, smoking weed, female nudity, male masturbation, angst, mentions of divorce, lots of fluff, 69, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie.

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: as always thank you to my baby loves @xxhellfirebunnyxx and @take-everything-you-can for reading and hyping me up with this fic, love you babes dearly. Also, thank you @bettyfrommars for unintentionally giving me the name and nickname for this <333

★ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4k

It was a chilly autumn day in Hawkins, Indiana and all Eddie wanted was a carton of cigarettes and a bag of pretzels before making his way to the last place a twenty year old like him should be– high school.

“Welcome-... oh.” The older man behind the counter stopped himself from his usual cheerful greeting before groaning as he eyed the metalhead down.

One time…Eddie stole a box of condoms, one time two years ago and Stu the manager of the stop and go is hellbent on never letting him forget it.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the bald headed, beer bellied man as he makes his way down one of the small aisles, grabbing his usual bag of Rold Gold pretzels. His eyes scan the shelf for anything else he might feel like snacking on come lunchtime, before a loud horn echoes from outside making him whip his head around, brown waves falling down his back from where it was laid over his shoulders. He witnessed the tail end of a car who must've cut off another in the intersection, before his eyes dropped to something else. The words playboy catches in his line of sight, making him turn around fully, two heavy black boots carrying him over to the magazine rack that sits just underneath the big store window.

Two very familiar eyes stare back at him, causing him to harshly swallow, his heart beat kicks up in nervous excitement, holy shit!

It’s you.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

5 years ago

“Eds, can you please quit hoggin’ the joint?” You whine from your upside down position on his bed, head hanging over the side as he’s sprawled out on the floor, flipping through a magazine while taking quick puffs of said spliff. “It’s called puff puff pass, you greedy boy.” You pout, not realizing the affect such words would have on your best friend.

“Uh, yeah shit sorry.” He stammers as his eyes find yours, shaky ringed fingers raising up towards you as the zigzag rolled joint slightly quivers in his grasp. Greedy boy will stay on a loop in his mind later on tonight when he’s alone.

Eddie wouldn’t argue with anyone who said he was fucking dumb, because the dumbest thing he could ever do is fall for his best friend. That’s like the number one rule in a friendship and he just had to go and fuck it up, like he does everything else. But you’re you. How can he not fall for those innocent doe eyes? That beautiful smile that could light up even his darkest days– and that giggle, that giggle that sets his insides on fire, makes him wanna trip over nothing just to hear it, makes him wanna memorize even the corniest jokes just to go back and tell you later, while his chest is puffed out and proud he’d been able to make you cover your mouth with your pretty hand while a girly giggle bursts from between your lips. Yeah he’d done that.

But you’re you, the girl everyone wants. The girl he’s incessantly hounded about whenever he does a deal with one of those meathead Jocks.

“So… is Angel ya know, seeing anyone?” Steve Harrington aka king Steve asks as he passes a crisp twenty dollar bill over to Eddie before smoothing out his letterman jacket. Of course, it never fails.

“Uh, n-no I don’t think so.” Eddie says, shoulders deflating as he throws the bill into his black lunch tin.

“Good, good. You think you can put in a good word for me?” The honey eyed boy asks as he flashes Eddie a charming smile, the smile that made all the girls swoon over his very existence.

Well yeah Eddie could admit he was cute or whatever, I mean he has eyes. But he loves you and there’s just no way he’d ever “put in a good word” for anyone that wasn't himself.

“I don’t think you need my help getting into anyone's pants, king Steve.” Eddie bites, before kicking his legs over the rickety bench and trudging his way out of the woods, to the school's parking lot. He quickly notices you hunched over, leaning up against his rust bucket of a van, arms crossed as your head studies your dainty feet in your pristine white keds.

“What's goin’ on sweetheart?” Eddie prods as he now stands toe to toe with you, the stark contrast of his dirty Reeboks against your clean and proper shoes, causes a sad giggle to erupt from your chest. You slowly pick your head up and Eddie noticeably winces when he realizes your eyes are full of unshed tears that are so close to boiling over, ready to drip down your lash line and onto your perfect cheeks. “Hey, what's wrong princess?” The metalhead asks before bringing his thumb up to wipe the tears that have finally bubbled over.

“I’m moving… tomorrow.” The tears are now boundless, no end in sight as they fall freely.

Eddie feels light headed at your words, moving? Moving where?! He says as much in a strained but somber timber.

“California, can you believe that?” You scoff, moving to California in your Junior year of high school no less, sounds like an utter nightmare.

“California!?” Eddie all but shouts, “what the fuck? Why so far away?” He’s trying his best to keep it all together, he wants to grab you and kiss your pouty lips, tell you everythings gonna be okay and no one can take you away from him, but he doesn't, he tries to stay neutral and positive for you.

“Well hey, we can still keep in touch, right?” He chuckles, but the smile is nowhere near to reaching his eyes, it holds nothing but sadness and unspoken truths.

“Oh, Eddie.” You wistfully whisper before throwing yourself into your best friends embrace, two leather clad arms wrap around your body as he rubs little circles into the skin above your elbow, his head buried into the top of your hair– he takes in your scent as his last ditch effort to be this close to you, until it's eventually ripped from him. You smell like strawberries and cream and he’ll never be able to smell it again and not think of you, it'll be ingrained in his subconscious forever… filed away in that part of his brain that holds a box of the many things he loves about you.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Eddie couldn't believe his eyes as they scan the inside of the issue, you sprawled out in next to nothing on a questionable looking mattress as you spread your legs for the camera, fucking the reader with those doe eyes that had him lost for you, years ago. Of course he had to buy it, even as Stu rang him up with a knowing smirk on his face, that smug bastard.

So here he sits in that same van you were leant up against just five years prior, where you broke some of the worst news he’d ever gotten, thumbing through all the pages your beautiful body graced. God, you were even better than the you he conjured up in his imagination.

He couldn't help it when his cock began to stir against the rough fabric of his jeans, apart of him felt guilty but he knew he had to find some kind of release before he stepped foot into hawkins high. He refused to be the guy who popped a boner in class, he was already a freak he didn't need perverted creep added to that title– so before thinking too much about it, he made his way to the back of his van, plopping down on the small mattress that was placed back there for action that didn't involve just him and his hand.

He began unbuttoning his jeans, it was laundry day so he had no other obstacle to remove– his cock instantly bobbing out in front of him, hard and already leaking at the tip. He quickly turned to the page of you sprawled out on a similar looking mattress to the one he was seated on, before spitting into the palm of his hand and bringing it down to his throbbing sex. The glide was easy with the amount of saliva he’d used, building a rhythm as his eyes wandered over your beautiful curves. He couldn't help but to think about what you’d been up to these last few years, who you are now, if you still think about him at all… yeah fucking right.

God, he would have treated you so good if he had the chance, fucked that pretty little pussy until you were screaming for him to not stop, keep going, right there.

With his unused hand he brought the bottom hem of his shirt up and under his chin so he wouldn't make a mess on the only clean shirt he had in a three mile radius, but also so he could get a better visual, now picturing your mouth around his cock instead of his heavily ringed hand. The way your pretty plump lips would wrap around him, taking him all the way back into your throat as spit falls from the sides, your eyes watering as they look up at him. What did him in was the memory of that last moment he had with you when his nose was buried in your hair, strawberries and cream had his toes curling in his boots as his creamy cum dripped over his knuckles and down his silver rings, some even splashing onto his happy trail as low moans of your name left his lips.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

One week later

The last place you ever thought you’d find yourself, was back in Hawkins. But your aunt called your mother in a panic, she was going through a messy divorce and she needed to make this thanksgiving special for your two younger cousins who were more than likely going to feel the brunt of the new change.

So of course, you and your mom packed up and flew to Hawkins to spend thanksgiving in the little town you’ve tried so hard to leave behind.

Two days here and you already remember why you missed it so much, although you love the big city and all it has to offer you’re really just a small town girl at heart, always have been.

“Hey, there you are sweetie. Can you do me the biggest favor and run to Melvald’s? Your aunt is about to have a nervous breakdown over her cherry pie, it’s just not baking right…do you think you can grab a few?” Your mom asks as she leans against the doorway of the guest bedroom you’re staying in.

“Yeah sure, but it’s the day before thanksgiving, you think they’ll still have some?” You ask as you stand up from your lying position on the bed.

“Well it wouldn’t hurt to check?”

“Of course not.” You agree with a peppy smile as you assess yourself over in the mirror attached to the big dresser.

“Do you want to take her car?” She asks with a grateful smile.

“No, I could use the walk.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

You stroll down the bakery at melvalds, placing three pies in your little hand held grocery basket; cherry, pumpkin and pecan before turning around and making your way down a random aisle, but what you see or rather who made you stop quick in your tracks.

Eddie.

You haven’t seen him in five years and it shows, his hair is longer, shoulders broader but still wrapped up in leather. You stand there unable to move, unable to take your eyes off of your old best friend, the guy you had it bad for since sixth grade.

His head snaps towards you at the sudden realization he’s being watched, you see the futures on his face go from utterly confused to shocked in a matter of seconds. Brown eyes widening into large pools of chocolate.

“A-Angel?”

Angel, you hadn’t heard that nickname since your junior year. It was something you were predominantly called in Hawkins and were grateful it didn’t follow you out to California. But standing here now, listening to it fall from his perfect lips, you realize just how much you’ve missed hearing it.

“Eddie.” You clutch at the small basket in your hand, as you shoot him a bashful smile. You didn’t know what to say. “Hey, how ya been? Sorry I never returned your phone call and totally let our friendship disintegrate into thin air.” It’s not that you didn’t want to talk to him, but the pain you had gone through leaving him behind was too much to bear and in your young mind you thought it would be easier to quit him cold turkey, so to speak. Was it a shitty, selfish plan? Absolutely. But you knew the inevitable would happen and he’d get a girlfriend he was over the moon for and would brag to you about how much he knows ‘she’s the one’ and you just couldn’t take that blow to your heart. So you never called back. Put all your time and energy into school and new friends, dating here and there but never being able to fall for anyone the way you did for him.

“H-how have you been?” Eddie stumbles, trying to break the awkward tension. He can’t seem to look you in your eyes and you can’t help but to mistake his nervousness for anger, you wouldn’t hold it against him if he held some sort of resentment for you and your fleeting friendship.

“I’ve been okay, back in town for a couple weeks so that’s nice…” you try your best not to grimace at your words, this whole interaction feels so…different. You hate how you had once been able to talk to him about anything, to now have no clue how to speak to him.

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

“Yeah, um you look great by the way.” His eyes finally meet yours again, they hold contact for at least a few seconds before they shift down to your exposed midriff and the tops of your thighs that peek out from beneath your brown plaid mini skirt.

“Hey, I’m um well me and Wayne are having a pre thanksgiving dinner tonight, since he’s working a double tomorrow for ya know the holiday pay. Anyway, do you wanna maybe come by? He always asks about you.” His cheeks turn rosy from his rambling and the unnecessary information he’s now kicking himself for adding in there.

“Oh, um yeah. Yeah I’d love to!” The smile you beam up at him could bring him to his knees in an instant. The smile he beams down at you has your heart fluttering anew.

“Do you mind taking me to my Aunt Cindy’s to drop these pies off, and then we can head back to your place?” The basket sways in your hands as you hold it up in question.

“Yeah, she still lives in Loch Nora, right? 1310?” His remembrance of little details from years ago goes straight to your heart and maybe a tad between your legs.

You swiftly nod your head as Eddie puts the remaining ingredients for what looks to be Wayne’s famous Mac and cheese into the buggy, before you both walk side by side to the register.

The checkout process is silent as the cashier rings you both up separately, aside from the happy greetings and small talk from the nice lady, but you don’t miss the little glances Eddie shoots at you from the corner of his eyes, as if the next time he looks you’ll be gone. You can’t help but to think maybe he’s not so mad at you after all, I mean he wouldn’t invite you back to his place if he was, right?

The car ride to your Aunts house was filled with more silence mixed with the metal music Eddie had playing in the background while his fingers drummed incessantly on the steering wheel. It seemed to be more out of nervousness, as the side glances continued and if you weren’t mistaken you’d say he was looking at your thighs rather hungrily. You could feel that pull in your lower belly, that fire you used to get while hanging out with him as if you had to squeeze your legs together to get any sort of relief. Fuck, why are you torturing yourself like this?

After dropping the pies off and your mom quickly catching up with Eddie, you hop back into his van and head to forest hills.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“Well look who it is. How are ya kid? Haven’t seen you in…what’s it been? Four or five years now?” The older man asks before bringing you in for a hug. Wayne was like the father you never had when you lived in Hawkins, as your actual father was always at work or bringing his work home with him. You couldn't help it when your eyes welled with tears at all of the memories you had in this trailer and with these two men who still seem to mean the world to you.

Dinner went smoother than you could’ve expected, the food was good and the conversation was even better. You all seemed to fall back into your usual banter, especially you and Eddie, it was almost as if no time had passed, like you never even left.

Finally after all the food and beer had been eaten and sipped, Wayne gets up from the table before slipping on his work boots that sit by the front door.

“Well, I gotta head out. You kids be good ya hear? It was nice seeing you sweetheart.” Wayne says before wrapping you up in another bear hug, and then he was off leaving you and Eddie back in that awkward silence, but not for long—

“D-do you still smoke?” Eddie asks as he nervously plays with his hair, wrapping it around his ringed finger then letting it fall back into place.

“Duh, you think just cause I moved to L.A. I stopped smoking? They’re even worse out there.” You say as you nervously shift on your feet.

“Well I just thought since you no longer had the best dealer in town, you’d quit or something.” Eddie instantly regrets his words and his weird attempt at flirting, but when you giggle and playfully roll your eyes at him that feeling dissipates from his mind completely.

“Lead the way, handsome.” You purr, causing Eddie’s breath to hitch. You had never called him cute or handsome before and now he thinks if he plays his cards right he may actually have a chance with you, whatever you were willing to give him he’d take with a smile on his face.

You follow closely behind him before he opens his door for you, standing with his back up against it motioning for you to go first, still the perfect gentleman.

The only light in the room was coming from the kitchen and the soft moonlight peeking in through his makeshift curtains, so you saunter over to his night stand and turn on his lamp, the yellow light causes you to squint your eyes as they adjust to the brightness. You begin taking in any new details not noticing much, before your eyes fall to his bed.

You and Eddie both stop in your tracks and now he’s the one who wants the ground to swallow him whole. How could he forget that there? How could he be so stupid? He wouldn’t blame you if you cursed him out, called him a freak and a creep and left. But when his hazy eyes find yours, he can see a smile forming on your lips but he can’t tell if it’s from flattery or if you're going to laugh and tease him.

“I um, I meant to put that up.” He admits as his face grows beet red, he rubs at the back of his neck as he tries to gauge any kind of reaction from you.

“Did you like it?” If Eddie hadn’t been watching your every move he might’ve missed the soft whisper of your voice. That question however caught him completely off guard, he could feel his cock begin to stir as you walked over to him, now almost chest to chest.

“Uh, what?” He urged as he shook his head from side to side, brown waves swaying back and forth with every move as if he hadn't heard you right.

“I said… did you like what you saw?” Your eyes are big and innocent, a pout forms on your lips as your hand reaches up to touch his chest. Eddie feels like he can’t breath, you're touching him and he can’t fucking breath because he’s thought of this moment for years, and its happening.

“I did, I r-really did.” He confirms as he licks his plump pink lips, before giving you a nervous smile as if he still couldn't believe this was happening.

“Did you touch yourself to my pictures Eddie?” You whisper as your hand moves lower down his abdomen, making your way to the top of his jeans.

“Mhm, yeah I did.” He admits, causing you to send him a salacious smile, fingers beginning to fidget with his handcuff buckle.

“Well I’ve touched myself thinking about you plenty of times, so I guess it’s only fair.” You shrug, slipping your digits under his shirt and rubbing them through the tuft of hair that sits just above denim.

“You-you have?” Okay, you have to be fucking with him now, there’s no way you have played with yourself thinking about him.

“I have for a very long time.” You admit, vague but the look on your face tells him you’re serious. You have thought about him like that and his dick couldn’t stiffen any harder in his jeans, if it tried.

“Fuck princess, so have I…want you so bad.” His hands move to your hips, first a gentle graze before his grip tightens possessively.

“Then take me, Eddie.” You whisper into the plump skin of his pink lips before they’re on you, soft and pliant. It starts off sweet and full of love before it becomes hot and needy, tongues interlocking with passion as you take in the taste of cigarettes and the sweetness of the marshmallows and brown sugar from the candied yams Eddie had shoveled into his mouth earlier, not typically your favorite but on Eddie it was.

You break the kiss causing him to whimper before quickly discarding your brown knit sweater over your head, throwing it onto some unknown surface in his messy bedroom. His eyes widen as he takes in your bare breasts as if he hadn’t been jerking off to pictures of them all week, but seeing them up close and in person was a different experience entirely.

You bring your lips back to his, heavy breathes and moans fall between your mouths as Eddie turns your body slightly, knees buckling on the edge of his bed before you both fall back onto his lumpy mattress. A sharp gasp and that giggle falls from your lips and Eddie can’t help but to take in every crease and dimple on your face, smiling down at you as if he lived and breathed to make you smile, as if seeing you happy in turn made him happier. You know now, there is no denying that this love that is surging between your bodies has been there all along, you were both just too stubborn and self deprecating to see it.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Eddie whispers into your cheek before his lips begin a trail down your jaw line and onto your neck, soft kisses that make you squirm and shift as if he’s teasing you, aching to see you break, to hear you beg him for more, more, more.

But what flies out of your mouth instead, has him detaching from your skin to look back into your eyes and then down at your lips, as if he needs to see how you look as you mouth those words to him. “I love you, Eddie.”

It drips from your tongue so earnest and sincere that it has him breaking all resolve, he swallows harshly, your eyes fall to where his Adam’s apple bobs causing your stomach to sink. You make a move to push him off and sit up before stuttering over your words, trying to assert some kind of damage control to save yourself from humiliation but Eddie doesn’t budge, you dare look back into his eyes scared to see what you’d find but when you do, you see nothing but pure adoration and love, it causes you to furrow your brows in confusion as you and Eddie stare into eachothers eyes, souls bare and ready for what follows.

“I love you angel, I always have.” Falls so sweetly from his lips and you can’t help but to hold onto every single word tightly as if they’d float away from your mindseye, forever.

It's what you’d always wanted to hear, he loves you, he’s always loved you.

You don’t put much more thought into it before you’re yanking off his mercyful fate band shirt, throwing it off to land in the sea of clothes that would eventually become his floor.

You eye his tattoos, new and old before slowly tracing them with your index finger. Eddie watches you with a deep set smile, the one that perfectly displays his dimples. He slightly jerks when you move on from the demon on his left pec and down to his nipple, lightly circling it, before bringing the pad of your digit to the silver barbell nestled there, ever so gently swirling as you pull a whimper from his lips.

“Is it sensitive?” You ask with the ghost of a smirk on your face, already knowing the answer.

“Mhm, very. Feels really good.” He chokes out between huffs.

“Can I lick it?” The look on your face is pure desperation, how could he deny you something you're clearly begging for with your eyes.

“You want to?” His face is full of surprise as if it’s the first time anyone has ever paid any attention to his nipples and you just can’t help but to think what a shame that is.

“Wanna do everything with you.” You whisper before bringing your face closer to his chest, eyes on his as your dark lashes flutter up at him, lips pressed together before you give his nipple a quick blow of cool air, his eyes shut as he hums in delight.

“Need an answer before I put my tongue on you, pretty boy.” Words dripping with mock confidence as your insides flutter with nerves.

“Yes baby, you can lick me wherever you want.” He rushes out, so needy for whatever you’re willing to give him.

Without another thought you flick your tongue across the pink bud and silver jewelry before wrapping your lips around it, giving one good suck before you move on to his other nipple, both decorated and equally making you drip between your thighs.

“Oh fuck, that feels…so good.” Eddie hums as his eyes shut tight, enjoying the sensation you’re bringing him, he jerks his hips in anticipation and the rough denim catches on your clit, a moan bubbles up and out of your throat as he continues his movements, his hungry eyes moving down towards where your lower half meets his, your white cotton panties on full display for him as they perfectly outline your lower lips, wet patch glistening in the low light of his room. He half expected you to wear some little lace number but something about the white cotton brings him back to the nights he’d stay over at your house when your parents were out of town. He’d catch a glimpse of them in your hamper and it took every ounce of him not to look, not to touch, not to smell but goddamn did he want to.

“Already so wet for me.” The words sink into your skin as he places kisses around your neck, desperately trying to stave off marking you as his, at least not until you’re asking, begging.

“Just need you inside me Ed’s.” You whine as you now begin to rock your hips into his, bodies moving and rutting into each other in tandem as moans fill the stale air of his bedroom.

“No baby, not yet…no need to rush, we have all night.” His voice is deep and husky as he throws you a wink before swiftly peeling your panties down your lower body, leaving them to dangle off of your right foot as if he was just too desperate to fully remove them, you clench around nothing at the thought and Eddie doesn’t miss it as he looks down onto your pussy with complete wonder in his eyes.

“She’s so fucking pretty.” He whispers, making your face heat up from the praise of your sex, you wanted to squirm and snap your legs shut at the attention. Sure, you’ve done these types of poses for pictures as photographers, lighting directors and wardrobe designers looked on. But, something about being underneath Eddie and him looking at you, like really looking at you, made you feel so unbelievably vulnerable, like his opinion is the only one in the world that matters to you.

“Want you to sit on my face baby,” his voice is needy, practically begging with his puppy dog eyes “want this pretty pussy to suffocate me.” He grits, the way he almost growls his request has a shiver running down your spine. You nod rapidly, allowing him to lay down before you’re swinging your leg over his head to nestle yourself right over his awaiting mouth. The first lick through your folds has you whimpering, hands falling to his chest just to have something to hold onto. The feeling of his warm, soft lips on your pussy is addicting but his tongue that dips out to flick over your clit and into your fluttering hole is down right diabolical, you can’t help but to move your hips side to side, giving him just what he wants as you bury his face deeper into your cunt.

He’s enjoying every minute of it with the groans and expletives that muffle from his mouth, as well as the front row seat you have to the tent in his black denim jeans.

Your curiosity was getting the better of you as you continued to eye his bulge; you needed to see him, taste him, touch him, so you lay flat against the metalheads chest, bringing your hands up to tussle with the handcuff buckle Eddie was still sporting all these years later.

He gasps from underneath you, his hands moving from your hips down to the globes of your ass, taking handfuls as you unbutton and unzip his jeans— you hear a faint “oh fuck” when you begin pulling both denim and plaid polyester down to gather at his knees. His cock springs up, hitting his stomach in an almost comical way that makes you wanna giggle, his tip is cherry red, blue veins run along the sides and clear beads of precum bubble out of the slit. He’s big and pretty, so pretty.

You take him into your hand, touching it as if it were some kind of delicacy, you want to memorize every vain, every ridge and dip as your hands enclose around it. You squeeze around the base creating more beads making the others drip over and down the mushroom tip.

You can’t take it anymore as your mouth waters with hunger, you take him between your lips licking and sucking at the flushed skin before moving further down and burying him deep in your throat.

“Mmff.” The vibrations from his groans make you shudder as you continue to bob your head, creating a steady pace as you cup his balls and use your unoccupied hand to twist on his shaft.

Eddie gives a quick slap to your ass cheek before he’s tapping your leg which you take as your signal to get off, and you do.

“Fuck angel, I need you to stop before I come down your throat.” He says as if it’s a bad idea, like you wouldn’t love to swallow every drop he gives you.

He can tell by the look in your eyes that that’s exactly what you want, but he only has one place for his come in mind—

“I need to fuck you full baby, I’ll let you swallow another time.” He says in absolute glee as if he's silently preparing to give you what you want in the hopefully near future.

Eddie quickly grabs the backs of your thighs, catching you off guard and making you yelp as you fall onto your back on the mattress, but once you’re laid flat he doesn’t let go, pulling you down so that your butt is almost hanging off the edge. His eyes are blown wide with lust as he grabs his cock and gives it a couple strokes before tapping the head on your clit, he throws you a devilish smirk when you moan from the action.

“You ready princess?” The flushed look on your face and lustful gaze would’ve been enough of an answer, but Eddie had to wait for any kind of verbal confirmation before proceeding, “mhm, very.” You finally speak up, voice demure but the look in your eyes still shined with glazed over desire.

“Hold onto me baby, want you close.” Eddie whispered as his tip began to sheathe itself inside of your drenched hole.

Your hands instantly went to the nape of Eddie’s neck, before you began dragging them down, placing gentle caresses down his back. The soft touches and feeling of your tightness wrapped around his cock had his eyes rolling back and mouth agape in pleasure.

He felt like a virgin with you, nervous like he was going to blow his load entirely too fast but also scared to make one wrong move, he didn’t want to fuck anything up. He never had to worry about this kind of stuff; as far as Eddie was concerned, chicks came and went and he never had to make any kind of impressions to make them stay, you were different and that fucking terrified him.

But once you rub your nose on his like a cute little kitten and bat your lashes up at him as if to tell him he could push in further, all those debilitating thoughts leave his mind, giving over to you; your scent that fucking strawberries and cream, your taste of slight cigarettes that he knew was from him; that thought drove him wild, and the sight of your beautiful lips open in a perfect “o” from the overt satisfaction he was bringing you.

One last thrust had his cock completely buried inside your walls, wet and already gripping him like a vice, he wasn't going to last long with all the sensations you were bringing him. It had his head spinning, making him so fucking dizzy with lust.

In his determination to get you as close as he was, he stopped his small thrusts to spit a glob of saliva onto your clit before roughly thrusting in and rubbing his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves, simultaneously.

“Oh my god!” you shouted with a feminine squeak, making Eddie smirk cockily all while thrusting faster while his thumb continued to form tight circles.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He growls as his brown doe eyes bore into yours, watching as you lose yourself to that overwhelming arousal that was burning in your lower half. Eddie swiftly lifted your legs bringing them to your chest, the new angle had him hitting that little pleasure button hidden deep inside of you, head on. Whimpers and pleads fell from your mouth as your legs began to shake so intensely, you thought they'd lock up for good.

Your cunt was pulsating so fiercely around Eddie that he had to remind himself to breathe, everything felt too good and he could tell he wouldn't be able to hold out any longer, no matter what he willed his mind to distract him with.

“Im so fucking close baby, come here.” He groans, bringing his arms underneath your body and gripping you in a tight hug before yanking you up so you were practically seated on his lap, all while he was still nestled deep inside of you; then began bouncing you on his cock as if you weighed nothing. You were babbling nonsense at this point, so close to what you could tell would be the most intense orgasm you have ever had.

“Fuck yes, yes, please.” you moaned before Eddie captured your lips in a deep tongue filled kiss, heavy pants and mewls being passed back and forth into eachothers mouths making the whole scene so much more ardent and passionate.

“Oh! I'm gonna come eddie!” So close to that precipice you could practically taste it, you bounced harder on the metalhead's cock making him throw his head back while whimpers were suspended into the muggy air above.

“Good girl, that's a good girl. Gonna come so hard for me aren't you?” He had babbled those words with so much desperation that it made you hit your high instantly, with a gush of warm liquid falling over Eddie's hairy thighs and seeping deep into his mattress. A new stain added, that would commemorate this beautiful moment between two once love sick teens turned two head over heels, adults who were ready to give all they had to each other, a second chance to do what they should have a long time ago.

“Uh, gonna fill you up baby.” Eddie's grip tightened around you as heavy grunts were spewed from his pink swollen and slick lips.

The come down was filled with cuddles and kisses, as Eddie pulled you closer into his chest holding you against him as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever had in his grasp.

“You should be my date for Thanksgiving dinner.” You murmured as you burrowed deeper into Eddie's shirtless pecs.

“Mm, I should?” He responded with a playful lilt, as if he wasn't praying you'd ask him. You gave him a little nod as you bit at your lip, a hopeful gaze in your eyes.

“And then after maybe we can talk about me moving back to Hawkins.”

T A G L I S T

@ahoyyharrington @hellfirenacht @joannamuns9n @uwantagoodbhloe 🖤

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie

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submissivefeminist · 2 years

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this weekend’s been rough, man. I’m sitting in the apartment with 6 professional dehumidifiers hoping the sopping wet ceiling doesn’t turn into mold and researching any other possible living options for the spring.

distracting asks are appreciated

#it's a damn mess #I have really bad anxiety so I was a mess yesterday #it took two king size joints to calm me down this morning #so I'm high but I'm functional

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smoke-proper · 11 months

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Unrolling Excellence: Finding the Best King Size Joint Papers

When it comes to enjoying your favorite herbs, the choice of rolling papers can make a world of difference. For those who prefer king-sized joints, the quest for the best king size joint papers is an ongoing pursuit. In this article, we'll explore what makes a great king size joint paper and introduce you to a top choice for your rolling pleasure.

The Art of Rolling with King Size Joint Papers

Rolling your own joints has long been a preferred method for many cannabis enthusiasts. It offers the flexibility to craft your ideal smoke, control the amount of herb used, and enjoy a personalized experience. When it comes to king size joints, the choice of rolling paper becomes critical. But what sets the best king size joint papers apart from the rest?

Size Matters: King size joint papers are larger than standard-sized papers, allowing for more generous rolls and larger smoking experiences. The dimensions are typically around 110mm in length, providing plenty of space for your herbs.

Quality Paper: The best king size joint papers are made from high-quality materials that burn evenly and leave minimal ash. This ensures that the flavor of your herbs remains pure and untainted.

Even Burn: A good king size rolling paper should deliver an even burn, so your joint doesn't canoe or burn unevenly. This quality is essential for a consistent smoking experience.

Low Impact on Flavor: The paper should have a neutral flavor or enhance the taste of your herbs, rather than adding undesirable notes.

Easy to Roll: The best king size joint papers are easy to roll, making the process of crafting your joint enjoyable and stress-free.

Introducing the RAW King Size Classic Rolls

One of the top choices for those seeking the best king size joint papers is the RAW King Size Classic Rolls. RAW is a well-respected name in the rolling paper industry, known for its commitment to quality and sustainability. Here's why the RAW King Size Classic Rolls stand out:

Generous Length: With a whopping 3 meters (or approximately 9.8 feet) of rolling paper per roll, RAW King Size Classic Rolls offer plenty of room for creativity. You can customize the length of your king size joints to suit your preferences.

RAW Quality: RAW rolling papers are crafted from unbleached, natural fibers. They are free from added dyes, chalk, and other chemicals, providing a clean and pure smoking experience.

Consistent Burn: RAW's proprietary CrissCross watermark pattern ensures an even burn, preventing runs and promoting a smooth and steady smoking session.

Enhanced Flavor: RAW papers are known for their ability to enhance the flavor of your herbs, allowing you to savor the full spectrum of terpenes and cannabinoids.

Sustainably Sourced: RAW is committed to sustainability, using wind power, recycled materials, and eco-friendly packaging for its products.

Crafting Your Ideal Smoke

When it comes to enjoying your favorite herbs, the choice of rolling papers can significantly impact your overall experience. The best king size joint papers, like the RAW King Size Classic Rolls, offer the ideal canvas for crafting your perfect smoke. With their generous size, quality materials, and commitment to sustainability, they are a top choice for discerning enthusiasts. So, whether you're rolling up a king size joint for a solo session or sharing with friends, these papers can elevate your smoking experience to a new level of enjoyment.

#best king size joint papers

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 4 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 16

Cold Compress | Loki x Reader

After fleeing the court of The Golden Palace, Loki follows and reveals a secret of his own in an effort to console you. But his new form is more than just comforting...

Warning: 18+. sexual content and language. I mean it. Jotun Lokiincluding - size difference, oral sex (m & f receiving) frottage, fingering/large insertion. Hyperspermia. Capital S for SMUT

A/N: I used What If...Loki and thought about an average size woman to compare. This really is just self-indulgent smut so can be read standalone if you're not following the series.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

The wrath that had sent your fire reeling banked at the cool touch of Loki’s hands around your waist. In one moment you were a raging inferno, destroying every artefact, every decoration and drape in your path, sending other gods fleeing back into side rooms and up onto the balconies. The next you were cradled so softly in his arms, his touch pushing back your anger like a cool breeze on a summer day.

The burnt cinders of the corridor were gone and you found yourself alone in a similarly vast marble throne room, sealed from floor to ceiling in onyx black marble, seams of gold tracing through the wide blocks into an endless ceiling, twinkling with candlelight.

Loki held you to his chest, petting the back of your head and down your arms, quenching the fire under his touch and, when you finally looked at him, he still held that pale blue hue that had appeared when he created a sedir shield against your explosive anger.

“Asynja,” Loki breathed your name like a prayer, cupping your cheek and drawing you closer.

“Loki,” you sobbed, collapsing back into his chest and allowing your tears to fall freely, “I don’t want to join any of their families.” You finally let the tears flow, now that your anger was subsiding, and your fear rose swiftly to the surface.

“No one can make you go with them, my darling,” Loki soothed, but you still hiccuped around another sob. “I promise, as long as I am beside you, my darling Asynja, no one shall take you from me. Do you understand?” He pulled back to look down at you, his eyes brimming with a potent mixture of anger and possessiveness.

“I understand,” you took a deep breath, but the flames that had surrounded you continued to dance around your feet and temples. “It’s just - it’s an awful lot to deal with so suddenly.”

“I know, I too have experienced a revelation about my parentage, and the powers that come with it.” He kept his eyes steady with yours but you could tell from the twitch in his jaw that he was holding his emotions back.

Confused you allowed your gaze to rove over him for the first time, he didn’t appear to be hurt by the flames but he still looked different somehow.

“You’re blue.”

“Yes,” Loki laughed a little, “I am blue. I thought it might help you to see that you are not alone in discovering new things about yourself and that you are also not alone in being frightened. Although this is only part of my other body.” He admitted.

You took Loki’s hand, colder than usual, and led him into the centre of the ballroom before tugging him to sit on the floor beside you. “What are you frightened of?” Your dress pooled around you, shimmering slightly, and Loki carefully arranged your skirts so that he could press as close to you as possible.

“I imagine the same as you, what I will become, should I let the truth of my nature show.”

“And what is your true nature?” You took his hand and traced the darker blue lines that had appeared along the back, dipping between his fingers.

“Odin was not my father, my father was Laufey, of Jotenheim, King of the Frost Giants. That is why I am Loki Laufeyson. Father, Odin, used to say that both Thor and I were born to sit upon the throne. It was only recently I learnt that he meant separate thrones and not a joint ruling of the kingdom as I’d believed. I had imaged that we would share responsibilities, divided by our personal skills in both warring and intrigue. But father had other plans. My brother, of Asgard, would rule over the people that we love, the home that I knew. Yet I, the son stolen from his homeland, was destined for a throne in a room I did not remember, a people I did not know, a land I have visited but once.” He choked on his words, fighting the emotion he’d tamped down for so long.

“Oh, Loki, I’m so sorry. He should never have kept that from you, or teased you and Thor like that.” You squeezed his hands tighter and Loki turned to give you a sad smile.

“Fear not, darling, I do not wish for a throne, it is no great disappointment to me that it belongs to another.”

“What are you afraid of then?”

“My form, this is a body, a form, that I was given as a child by my mother. Frost Giants are unlike Asgardians, I fear that my Jotun form would be a terrifying prospect for all around me, there is precious little regard for me as it is, I should hate to ruin my reputation further.” Loki smiled again, patting your hand. “We should leave, we can return to Tonsberg as planned, we’ll be safe there and we can put this whole sorry mess to rest. We have no need to fear prophecies, we can write our own futures.” Loki seemed so sure, confident that he could walk away from this threat as he had so many others that you almost believed him.

Perhaps you could, but you would have no secrets between you if you did.

You allowed him to rise, but tugged him back when he offered you his hand, “show me.”

“Excuse me?”

“Show me, let it go, be a Jotun, show me.” You repeated, raising your eyebrows and watching him expectantly. “I already saw your skin go sort of blue, what else happens?”

Loki looked almost bashful, “really, darling, I have no concept of what might happen. Frost Giants can be ten feet tall, I would not wish to risk any harm coming to you.”

“Loki, please, look at the size of this room,” you both looked up at the ceiling, though it was so high you could barely see it, shrouded as it was in the darkness of the marble.

“If you insist,” he conceded, “but only for you, my darling.”

Loki stepped further from you, and as he did he began to change subtly. When Loki used his sedir the change could be tracked by the journey of the magic over his body, but this was different. He grew taller and as you watched you missed his hair lengthening, growing down his back. His skin, an icey blue, was marked with more and more intricate designs and his eyes became red. His growth slowed and you stared up at him. Naked and in his full glory for the first time.

Loki must have been at least ten feet tall, if not more, though the ballroom ceiling was still far away he could reach up and touch the cascading chandeliers, he was certainly towering over you, sprawled as you were on the floor, attempting to take in his full height.

“Wow.” You continued to stare, your hand reaching out for him.

“Is wow a positive expression?” Loki asked, his voice still the same, though louder now. The sound vibrated through you and you clenched your legs together.

“Uh - definitely a good thing.” Loki was always beautiful, but this form, so tall and broad, muscular and strong, so purely alien. He was truly a god and you felt small before him. “I bet you could pick me up with one hand.” You said, touching his calf absently.

Loki laughed in response and you felt hot, you hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it had taken you by surprise how attractive you found this form.

“Probably,” he quirked an eyebrow. “Shall we find out what else we could do?”

Loki bent down on her haunches and extended a hand towards you. His hands were still decorated with whirls of darker blue, and you traced them with your own fingers. With a grin he scooped you up, knocking you backwards so that you landed in his open palms.

Shocked, you gazed up at him open mouthed and his smile didn’t fade, instead it morphed into the teasing grin that knew you were in for both pleasure and mischief.

In this form you looked different too, although Loki was always taller he had certainly never viewed you like this. So small and vulnerable in his hand. He clenched his fingers gently, folding his thumb over your waist and circling your back with his fingers. You curled your arms around his thumb, hanging on tightly.

When he stood you shook, each of your movements amplified in his palm, as if he was back catching creatures in the forests of his youth, a nymph of his own to play with. He clenched his jaw against the thought - a plaything. His own goddess to play with.

“You look so - delicate.” He cooed, keeping his voice lower now you were closer to him.

“You look enormous.” You choked out, heat spreading over your chest and neck despite the chill of his touch. “Please, Loki, distract me from all this?” You asked, he had been right, this was exactly what you needed to feel less alone, less strange in this alien world. But now you needed more of him, you’d never get enough of anything that Loki could offer you, you’d take every facet of him, every version.

“What do you require of me, my tiny darling.” Loki lifted you higher, holding you to his cheek, your legs dangled in the air but your arms reached forward, touching his cold skin.

You leant towards him, pressing your lips against the expanse of smooth skin that covered his still sharp cheekbones, and pressed tickling kisses there, “make me forget, Loki. Please?”

“How could I deny such a polite request.” He cupped his other hand around you and, in a warm shimmer of magic, you felt your clothes vanish from your body. Still surrounded by his fingers your skin tingled, erupting in goosebumps at the press of his cold palm.

Loki lifted you back towards his face and pursed his lips, blowing warm air into his cupped hands and you giggled. You’d been expecting him to launch into some debauched idea of his, knowing that at least ten crackled around his thoughts at all times, but his playfulness caught you off guard as it always did.

“Loki!” You squirmed in his grasp and he held you all the tighter for it, bringing you back to his lips. This time he opened his hands and held you still, his second thumb covering your arms over your head so you couldn’t move, and then kissed the soft swell of your stomach. His lips were as cold as the rest of him, but as gentle as ever.

You giggled again, heat skittering over your skin and then shooting between your legs. His thumb swiped over your body and he kissed you again and again, turning you this way and that to find a spot on your side, on your hip, that he hadn’t yet worshipped.

“My darling,” he sighed, tipping his hand back so that you fell into his palm again, sprawled before him, “what a delicious little morsel you are.” His smile was vulpine and the only warning you got before he licked you, his tongue dipping between your spread legs and swiping up towards your breasts. You squealed in surprise, trying to close your legs but his fingers tangled over them, holding you open and he licked and licked, pausing only to blow gusts of cold air over the heat of your flesh.

“I could eat you forever and never be satiated.” Loki fit his tongue between your legs, teasing the tip against your entrance until you felt him stretch you gently. He angled his tongue upwards, humming softly and you swore you saw all the stars exploding as the vibrations thrummed through your bones. Loki continued, tilting his face forwards so that he nose pressed on your lower stomach, his tongue still angling upwards and your body sang for him, taut and ready.

“You’re devine,” he cooed, the rush of his words like a breeze, cooling your slick as it ran down your sticky thighs.

“Please, Loki, I can’t - I need - I want to cum - I’m going to - agh!”

Like a sacrificial offering he kept you pinned open until you were begging, pleading for more, the ever tightening coil of your arousal turned and turned in your stomach until you could take no more, gushing onto his tongue with a scream of pained pleasure. The sensations were overwhelming, heat and cold and pressure and pleasure and ecstasy all rolled into one.

Loki gave you a few seconds to recover before he lay you onto the table, sprawled before him.

“You are truly a feast, Asynja. Look at you, covered in us both and still smiling.” He kissed your cheek the best he could, swiping his thumb over your belly and thighs, rubbing in his kisses.

Your chest heaved, sweat cooling between your breasts and you longed for his touch again, even if it was icy, anything but this loneliness now that he had put you down.

“Loki -” you gasped, reaching for him and finding one of his large hands, your hand barely fit around his finger but his touch was soothing and pleasant on your heated skin.

He brushed his thumb over your breasts, around your nipples, down, down until he could lift your leg and cup you again, his thumb covering your folds and applying pressure to your aching clit. Your body no longer belonged to you, given over to the pleasure that touch created, your hips lifted, rolling into the pad of his thumb and he let you, a satisfied smile on his face as your pace increased, riding his hand. With an obscene moan you arched from the table and into his awaiting touch.

“You’re not satisfied, darling?” He smirked as you looked at him with heavily lidded eyes, “I promise I’m going nowhere until you are completely sated,” he bent over the table, looming over you and filling your senses, “we shall only leave when you are panting, crying for me to stop.” Loki kissed the side of your face, close enough that you could twine your hands in his hair in an effort to keep him there, so close you thought you could breathe him in. Despite all of the changes to his body, his hair felt the same, soft and silky and smelt like the expensive shampoo he insisted on using. It blended with his usual deep amber scent and something else, perhaps something Jotun, that reminded you of snowy days and icey nights.

“God - Loki - I - fuck me, please.”

You both looked down at the sizable erection tenting his magically enlarged trousers, his words rumbled through you, his lips still at your cheek, “I do not wish to break you, my Asynja, perhaps something else may sate your lusts.” His cock bobbed under his trousers, twitching in time with his words, and you knew without looking in his eyes that he was using every ounce of his self control not to at least try and push himself deep inside of you.

Suddenly his thumb was gone and you gave a low whine at the loss, dropping a hand between your legs to try and continue the glorious cresting of your impending orgasm, but Loki moved your hand away.

“Patience, darling,” he chided, still cupping the backs of your legs, tugging you to the edge of the long table. Instead of his thumb he stroked his pinky finger down your stomach, one hand keeping you still, the other drawing teasing circles over your belly button, lower and lower with each circle.

Even his smallest finger felt enormous, Loki in his usual size was enough of a stretch and heat flooded through you at the thought of trying to take even his finger.

“Lo’,” you were incoherent now, thrashing on the table with every movement, but he pressed on, the pad of his finger at your entrance, spreading your arousal over your clit and pushing slowly, intently, until you felt yourself stretch around him.

“Norns, Asynja, you are the most delicious woman in the nine kingdoms, in every realm, every universe, every time,” he cooed, pressing further until you keened, your hands rushing back between your legs as if to both stop and continue the onslaught of pleasure.

You had never been so full in your life, so full and so loved, held as you were between Loki’s gigantic hands, his lips kissing away the sweat on your brow, sparkling like diamonds in the low light.

“Loki, I - I -” your fingers struggled to find purchase in his hair - on his hands, slipping over his arousal soaked skin and you were dimly aware that that was the feel of you, hot and slick between you, dripping onto the table, before your orgasm hit you at full force, just from the stretch alone.

“Good girl, Asynja,” Loki growled, moving only slightly as your walls clenched around him, he could feel very flutter and movement on his sensitive fingertips and then you gushed, squirting over his finger and soaking the his chin where he perched between your legs.

Loki’s red eyes went darker, a blood red full of his widened pupil and drinking in every inch of your sweating, heaving body, your velvet skirts pushed up around your waist and bare legs shining with your arousal.

“Fuck, Loki - that was -” you dropped your head back onto the table with a thunk, staring glassy eyed at the lights twinkling above.

“It’s my pleasure, my darling.” He drawled, grin feral, tongue poking out between blue teeth. The first lap was soothing on your heated skin, sending goosebumps up and down your legs.

You peered up, tucking your head into your chest to view the god between your legs, still worshipping you, still thinking only of you. It was overwhelming, his devotion, and you wanted - needed, to make him feel the same.

Carefully you eased yourself to the edge of the table, level with his smiling face, and then you let your feet drop to the floor, a hand on his bare chest, pushing him backwards until he lay on the marble floor. Loki was the only other colour in the room, a bright star in the darkness. The bulge of his trousers was pressing against the zipper and you carefully settled on his hip, pushing your hands against the fabric.

It was Loki’s turn to groan now, the sound a deep rumble that travelled down his body and back between your legs. A fresh wave of arousal made itself known, but you tamped down your feelings. It was Loki’s turn now.

He helped you to tug the zipper down, freeing his impossibly large cock from its prison.

“Fuck.” The word was out before you could stop it and you left your mouth hanging open while you took in his full glory. In his Asgardian form Loki was already generously endowed. But as Jotun - you placed your hand against the firm length and marvelled at how delicate his skin still felt, albeit colder than normal. His cock twitched beneath your palm and a large bead of precum slithered from the tip, tracing the contours of a thick vein that ran up the bottom.

“Please -” Loki whimpered, his hands twitching. One came to wrap around your waist, gently holding you, the other he clenched in the fabric of his trousers.

“Can I taste?”

“Yes - of course, please, Asynja, do not torment me, can you not feel how I ache for you. How my body needs you?”

He squeezed his eyes closed, the sound of fabric ripping slowly accompanying the tightening of his first.

“I’d hate to leave you aching, my Prince.” You teased, leaning forwards and wrapping your hands around as much of his girth as you could. Tugging yourself closer to him you let your tongue dancing over his throbbing vein, arching higher towards the flare around the head. Marvelling at the beautiful shades his Jotun form afford him, you missed a second roll of precum escaping down the side and soaking your arm.

“Norns -” Loki clenched his jaw, “I must apologise for -”

“Please, don’t.” You knelt up and licked him again, eagerly tasting as much of him as you could. “You taste a little different, it’s fascinating.”

“Asynja,” he warned.

“Well -” you licked, “you do.”

Reaching the sensitive head you dipped your face towards his slit, pressing your nose into the soft flesh and pushing your tongue down, swirling it and pulsing as he did to you. You were rewarded with more and more of his cum, weeping past your pressing fingers.

“Asynja, I cannot hold back any longer - my darling -”

His cock pulsed, you could feel it against your body were you had pressed yourself against the entire length of him and it felt devine. Your body responded, clit aching for the feel of it.

“Do that again,” you begged, rubbing yourself against him, pushing on his length until you were lying on his stomach, wrapped around him, legs thrown over his base, toes curling.

The hand at your waist squeezed too and you felt the sensation of him moving you gently, the drag and pull of skin on skin, your pussy wet and wanting against his cock.

“You feel so fucking good, my darling, I can’t help it, your little body is perfection, made for me, made for my cock.”

You mewled, licking and sucking at his rigid length, thrusting your hips into him in seach of your own pleasure.

“I’m going to cum, Asynja and you haven’t even tried to move away.” He growled, his voice wavering as he neared his release.

“Don’t want to, Lo, I want your cum, want you to drench me in it, want you to use me and rub me on your beautiful cock, please - please!” Your sobs of pleasure joined his own, a deep knot tightening in the pit of your stomach.

“My goddess, my princess, my darling I will give you every drop you wish for.” He promised, fingers so tight you knew you’d have an array of bruises to enjoy tomorrow, but now, plunged into the most exquisite pleasure you’d ever felt, you latched onto the spot below his glands and sucked and sucked and -

Loki came with a shout, chasing your own release with each pulse of his cock, and spurted down your arms and hands, your back and legs. He painted his own chest in ropes and ropes of cum until he sighed, releasing your body and sagging into the floor.

Slowly he shrank until you were lying chest to chest on the cold floor and laughing.

“Loki, please tell me we can do that again.” You mumbled into his chest, lazily kissing his now, slightly warmer, skin.

“I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” He agreed, “although I think we may traumatise my poor brother should he stumble upon us. Perhaps it’s time we find him and return to Tonsberg?”

“Can’t we stay here and have a nap?” You closed your eyes defiantly, hoping he’d give in despite how uncomfortable you both were.

“Sadly, I can not allow a Goddess, such as yourself, to take her rest on a such an appalling hard surface. Only the finest pillows and sheets will do for you.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “luckily, I know just such a place.”

<< Chapter 15

Chapter 17 >>

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faebaex · 1 year

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Tangled in Wonderland - Leonotis Leonurus

author note: second poll's winner! also a plant pun for the title, just because (￣▽￣) i feel like Jade would be proud. speaking of, he has a teeny tiny cameo in this fic, simply bc he just fit the situation so well. so far, its been a housewarden clean sweep on the polls, with Azul winning the Octavinelle poll! new poll is up right now, a bonus one this time! who will be the comeback king? go vote if you haven't already! enjoy~

characters: Leona Kingscholar x GN!Reader

The library was your turf.

By this point, you were on a first name basis with all of the library ghosts, and you had a fairly good working knowledge of every section of the library, with Ace and Deuce often seeking you out at your usual table to ask you if you had any idea where a certain book would be. Of course, more often than not that meant that they would then sit at your table and you wouldn’t really get any meaningful research done, not with all their squabbling and general freshman catastrophic energy. When Grim tagged along, it was even worse, but at least you could keep an eye on him and make sure he was actually doing the assignments he was supposed to.

Despite all the time you had been spending at the library, you were still no closer to figuring out how to get home. Crowley was nowhere to be found, taking avoiding you to an entirely new level. The books and reading list that Riddle had provided you, however, had been very insightful. His recommendations were much easier to read than the previous tomes you had been torturing yourself with, and you were starting to see connections between theories, it becoming easier for you to source further reading without having to consult Riddle first. So yes, the library was your turf.

The botanical garden, however, was not. And you were well aware of who it belonged to.

Leona Kingscholar was one of the students at the top of your list to avoid. And considering his personality, the feeling was likely mutual. So you made a conscious effort to avoid places where you could run into him, not wanting to tempt the already volatile nature of fate to thrust you into his trajectory. You were even doing well avoiding conflict with the Savanaclaw students, especially considering they were always looking for a fight and the school’s only magicless student was definitely high on their lists to torment. But unfortunately for you, you couldn’t always avoid some of Leona’s favourite haunts, because what Crewel wants, Crewel gets.

You grumbled to yourself as you picked through the botanical gardens, a basket on one arm and a list in the other. Crewel had kindly brought it to your attention with a lash of his pointer that good ol’ Grim had been using ingredients from the potionology inventory for his lab work and assignments instead of collecting his own before class, as student handbook guidelines demand. With Grim nowhere to be seen and you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Crewel had handed you an extensive list of every ingredient that Grim had used since the two of you became a joint student, and ordered you to the botanical garden to retrieve every single one of them, or face the consequences. And with Crewel swinging that pointer around, you didn’t wait around to find out what those consequences would be.

Being so unfamiliar with the botanical gardens made this job harder, and the sheer size of the list had you running around in circles, picking one ingredient only to realise that you needed something similar that was back the way you had just came. It was incredibly frustrating, and you found yourself huffing under your breath as you traipsed around the botanical garden. To make matters worse, you had to keep yourself alert, lest there be a certain lion’s tail draped carelessly on the pavestone.

You were well aware that in the game, the poor main character had accidentally stepped on a certain stroppy lion’s tail, and he had retaliated by threatening to knock their teeth out. You’d rather not find yourself in the same situation. You’d briefly considered moving his tail out of the way with a stick or something, but decided that Leona was hardly worth the effort and would likely get offended at you poking at him either way, so instead you had to dutifully watch your feet as you continued on with your laborious task.

You had been hunting for ingredients for about an hour and a half by now, and clubs were starting to wrap up their activities and head back to their dorms. You, however, still had half of your list to go, so there was no such reprieve waiting for you. You wondered if you would be able to drop the basket back to the potionology lab with your half-completed list and promise Crewel that you’d finish the job tomorrow. Surely he wasn’t willing to wait around for you to find all these ingredients? If there was any professor at Night Raven College who you expected to have evening plans, it would be Crewel.

As you pondered your next course of action, you caught a flash of teal out of the corner of your eye. Walking towards you down the pathway was Jade Leech, and you fought the urge to do something stupid like show weakness by tensing or throwing yourself into the bushes. With his usual contrived smile affixed to his face, Jade eyed you in a way that really did make you feel like a shrimp, suddenly giving you a whole new understanding as to why his twin had dubbed the main character with such a pet name. Him being here was an oversight on your part, clearly you had thought that Leona was the botanical garden’s biggest threat, not even factoring in that Jade would use this place to fawn over his mushrooms. Thankfully he didn’t stop, passing you with an elegant stride that you could only appreciate, considering he had only been on legs for two years.

“Good day, prefect. Lovely weather we are having.” Jade greeted as he passed you, with you only responding with a small, tight-lipped smile back. No sooner had his footsteps faded away did the heavens decide to open up, a surprised cry erupting from your lips as you quickly found yourself becoming drenched, the sprinklers dousing the entire area and you in water. That could not have been a coincidence.

The sprinklers stopped as quickly as they had started, but by that point the damage had already been done, your clothes and hair dripping. The list in your hand was sodden, the ink running and quickly making the contents illegible. You growled in frustration, throwing the soggy list to the floor with a wet thump as you tried to squeeze out your clothes in vain. You were so busy trying to sort yourself out, to scrap back any shred of dignity you could that you almost missed the rustling of bushes next to you. Even if you had, there was no way you’d miss the soaking wet beastman emerging from the foliage, ears flat to his head and tail whipping behind him aggressively.

And he was glaring straight at you. Great.

“You got some nerve, herbivore. You got a death wish?” Leona snarled at you and you found yourself prickling up. “This wasn’t me!” You argued, gesturing to your own dripping form before glaring right back at him, “I might be magicless, but that doesn’t make me stupid! If I was going to set the sprinklers off, I’d make sure I wouldn’t get caught in it.” You huffed, once again trying to squeeze the excess water out of your clothes. Your words seemed to pique some interest in Leona, as he was suddenly all up in your space and sniffing you.

“Hm, you’re right. No magic at all, just wet herbivore.” Leona remarked, scrunching his nose up as he stepped back, as if the smell offended him. “Do you mind? You smell like wet cat.” You said flatly with an unimpressed expression, throwing your basket back over your arm with perhaps a little more force than necessary. You swear you could see an amused glint in Leona’s eye as he stooped down, picking up the soggy list that you’d thrown to the ground just moments earlier. “What’s this?” He enquired, holding the list away from him between his thumb and forefinger as if it was toxic, yet still holding it out of your reach when you tried to swipe it back.

“That is mine.” You said with exasperation, your dignity already running down the drain without Leona making you jump to get your list back, “whatever, its ruined anyway. Have it.” You huffed, resigned to having to go back to Crewel with your metaphorical tail between your legs and plead for a new list. Leona eyed you up for a moment before he stepped towards you again, tugging at the basket on your arm to get a look at the contents before dumping the ruined list into the basket.

“C’mon, prefect,” Leona droned over his shoulder as he started walking up the pathway, “I’ll get you some ingredients. First year ingredients are simple.” He scoffed as he navigated the garden like a seasoned pro, his gait lazy and leaving you no choice but to trail after him with a suspicious expression on your face.

“You’re… Helping me?” You questioned, the corner of your lips downturning warily. The Leona you knew was never helpful, only interested if he had something to gain, usually foisting off any inconveniences to Ruggie. “What’s in it for you?” You asked carefully, watching as he picked some stems from a bush and lob them into your basket, making you sigh as you attempted to tidy up his shoddy packing. Leona’s smile was all fangs as he caught your eyes before continuing along the path, “I’m always in need of another gopher. Having you owe me could come in handy, Ruggie has been nagging me lately and you could be just what I need... Plus, the quicker you’re out of the botanical garden, the more peaceful sleep I’d get without having to listen to your huffing and puffing.”

Ah.

Well, you suppose the original main character was truly onto something when they’d stayed up all night screaming outside Leona’s room in chapter three.

Leona had made short work of finding ingredients, and soon your basket was filled to the brim. “Those are all the common ingredients in first year potions. Any missing ingredients are on you.” Leona drawled as you both walked together towards the exit of the botanical garden, his hands behind his head as he yawned leisurely, “you owe me, prefect.”

“How do you even know what ingredients to look for?” You asked, your curiosity getting the best of you as you both left the garden, about to split off on your own paths as you planned to deliver the basket of ingredients to Crewel, whilst you assumed Leona would head back to his dorm. Leona simply kept walking, and you assumed he’d grown tired of you. But then he paused, looking over his shoulder at you with a smirk that you’d dare to describe as cheeky.

“Because I had to search out ingredients for Crewel in my first year, too.”

Huh. Perhaps Leona wasn’t that bad after all, you thought to yourself as you watched Leona’s retreating back, before setting off yourself to hand the ingredients in to Crewel, praying for fate to grant you some mercy for a change.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar x y/n

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willowser · 1 year

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you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

#anon dear friend i am so happy you have enjoyed it !!! and that it has comforted you in some way !!#i am wrapping you up in a big hug and so is our bratty lil dragon🥹#this message was just so cute and i wanted to write more for you !!!#this is all for you my peach my plum 😌 thank you for being here and reading my silly things !! giving me a reason to share them !!!#how fuuuuunnnn i am enjoying him way too much LOL #he's a brat !! a biter !!! he does what he wants !!!#god this is going to become a thing on here isn't it LOL might as well start a tag because i have much more to say !!#the lil world-building i have done for this in my mind...you have no i dea LOL #thank you again dearest !!#he he he he said THIS IS MINE 😊#and by this he means YOU 👀#๑ remember me love: bakugou ๑ #✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou

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