#lgbt reader

[romanarose]

Banner by @winniethewife

Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024

Hello friends!

Let's try this again and I'll try to be more clear to not invoke discourse. That being said, it is *my* event and if you'd like to run one a certain way, go nuts. However, this is how I'm doing it.

I had a lot of fun doing Dead Dove December and the Triple Frontier Anniversary Event so I decided I wanted to do an event for pride this year! I know it seems far away right now, especially given how many of us in north America are still cold af, but I wanna give everyone time!

Each week of pride will have a theme to write or draw for (you don't have to do all of them! Think of it like kinktober.) at the end, I will put out a masterlist (or multiple depending how many)so we can all share each other's work.

Why?

Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal are both allies to LGBT people, Pedro having played multiple queer rolls and having likened his sexuality to that of Prince Oberyn. Despite none of the characters being canon queer, Triple Frontier specifically lends itself to queer stories. Recently, theres been a rise in stories of Oscar characters in relationships or Pedro characters in relationships which I love.

What I'd really like to do is encourage people to think past x fem!reader or canon presentation of characters. I want to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual relationships, trans readers, trans interpretations of characters etc. More content guidelines will be in the what section.

Where?

Primarily tumblr.com, our very own shithole hellsight. However, especially given tumblr's censorship vs. twitter, I am encouraging posting on twitter or wherever you'd like. If you post something elsewhere, send me a link or send me a post you made about it on tumblr and I'll promote the link.

Additionally if you only write on ao3, I'd love for you to participate too! Once again, just send the link!

When?

in order to do the week by week themes and hold all of June, there will be 6 weeks from May 26th-July 6th

Each week will have themes. I won't be policing the weeks and these so if you do the 1st week on july 3rd, that's fine. The themes are keeping in mind both artists and writers. I only got one artist for DDD, a great piece and I've love to see more! Ideas are just for spit balling, do your own take!

May 26th-June 1st: Coming out. Ideas: Coming out to family, lover, friend. Finding gender affirming clothes/hair, first pride

June 2nd-8th: Transitioning Ideas: Surgary, surgery scars, starting T or E, binding (safely!!!)

June 9th-15th: Sex/kissing First time together, first time with certain biology or the same sex, sweet kisses, smut showing scars,

June 16th-22nd: Food, fashion, fun

All things queer culture and culture of different religions, racial or country backgrounds, queer fashion, gender affirming clothes, Keshet (קשת), listening to Lady Gaga or Bruce Springsteen, watching a queer movie

June 23rd-29th: Struggles Rejection, reconciling faith and identity, missing family that rejected one, comfort, candlelight vigil, day of remembrance.

June 30th- July 6th:Strength Asserting ones or a partner/friend/family's pronouns, standing up against hate, being loudly and proudly yourself, pride events

Who?

Writers and artists in any form are welcome. I also want to encourage working with each other, writers and artists together!

For characters: Any Oscar Isaac or Pedro Pascal character has to at least be in the relationship. Other characters in universes can be done, such as FishBen.

Reader can be anyone, just properly tag! If you want to come out to Marc Spector as bisexual, do it!!! If you want Joel to take care of you after top surgery, do it!

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE QUEER TO PARTICIPATE!

However! Please do your research if writing or drawing an identity not yours. There are trans, nonbinary, gay, lebian etc bloggers all over tumblr who write about their experience, please divert to first person testimonies rather than assumptions.

What?

A few rules

MUST contain more than male character x fem!reader. Male character x fem!reader x male character does not count unless the two male characters are romantically or sexually involved or one or the reader is trans. Any Q's, dm me!

This is not a dark event. I'm not going to be policing the content matter but I really want to primarily focus on the pride. However, as a bisexual, gender non-conforming person I know a lot of pain can still be involved. What we are not doing is suicide, death, self-harm, or non consensual activity. If you have questions or would like to make a case for something, just dm me!

This is not inherently NSFW, but there is absolutely NSFW allowed. Always tag everything properly.

The usual no's like bestiality, incest, underage nsfw etc

As far as minor characters, SFW MINOR CHARACTERS IS ALLOWED. You can write or draw lgbt themes because being LGBT is not inherently sexual. For example, teenage Santi coming out as trans to Frankie or your own version of Ellie and Joel's talk about Ellie and Dina kiss. That being said, I'd prefer to reserve this to teens. Again, any questions or ideas that don' quite fit into parameters, just ask!

As always, I am allowed to use my discretion. If I do not want to include something, I won't. However, I know that there are rifts in the fandom. I won't be excluding you out of personal bias. As long as I don't have you blocked and you haven't plagerized or done something really bad to people, you'll be included. I'm not letting petty beefs get in the way. Harmful actions will, however. I need to protect my peace and keep

NO REAL PERSON FANFICTION. Do not write about Oscar Isaac or Pedro pascal being gay or trans and do not make any assumptions about their sexuality or gender identity. Oscar is happily married to a woman and Pedro has expressed his sexuality is like that of Oberyn Martell but has not elaborated much further, nor should he have to. Just leave ‘em be. You can speculate elsewhere but that’s not what this event is for.

How?

Simply tag me, @romanarose and use the #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 please please please use BOTH so it's easier for me to find!!!

When the event is over, much like DDD I will compiled them into a masterlist and posted. This is a chance for every blog, big and small, to get a moment in the sun and to share each others works! Remember, reblogging, comments, and interacting is what makes this a community! I want to create an environment that is welcoming and we all help each other.

Please feel free to reach out to me for any questions or clarification!

However, if you go issues with me writing men kissing, chracters being trans, queer readers etc, I'm not really open to debate.

~A nonbinary bisexual <3

[inkpot909]

The Entire Group Having Feelings for the Reader Headcanons (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Fem!Reader; pronouns aren’t specified but is written as a girl. Reader is around Bruno and Abbacchio in age. Their sexuality is undefined, but is written as liking women. It’s made clear the Reader is not interested in anyone on the team/doesn’t reciprocate anyone’s feelings.

Summary: Having once been the newbie on Bucciarati’s team, a certain amount of unwanted attention was to be expected from your peers. However, the reactions to your inclusion on the team were more than you bargained for.

Warning(s): None.

The first one you’re going to catch harboring a little crush is most likely Narancia. Still young, he heard there would be a girl joining the group and his interest was immediately peaked. Weirdly enough, Bruno was quite keen on brushing past that fact.

One small comment from Giorno- feeling the need to point out how Narancia was considerably less friendly towards him his first week -and it was soon obvious to you what was going on here.

In all honestly, everyone knew right away and no one took it seriously. It was difficult for the others to not notice, considering Narancia would follow you everywhere and take every possible opportunity to include you in something.

The dismissiveness of his feelings also came from you yourself; to the point where it only ever crossed your mind if someone else made a jab at Narancia’s expense.

You did scold the others for making comments about it though, finding it insensitive. Sure, the age gap is a clear enough indication nothing will ever come of it, but you don’t go out of your way to be rude.

Only once did you have to not-so-subtly turn him down. He never really acted on it, but he did have the tendency to showing off for you whenever he could.

One particular occasion of him doing so, Fugo had made a snide remark at Narancia’s expense. “Oh, please, you’re only doing this because you like her. It’s embarrassing,” he told him outright.

Sensing a possible fight, you laughed it off and said affectionately, “Leave him alone! He’s just being sweet. Besides, nothing’s ever gonna happen. He’s like a brother to me.”

Could you have handled it better? Probably. Was that a blow to Narancia’s confidence? Definitely. Did it articulate your feelings in manner he could understand? Most certainly.

He’s a nice kid, you recall thinking on the matter, Someone’s gonna fall head over heels for him someday. Guys like him always find genuine love.

Little did you know at the time, there were other reasons as to why no one else took Narancia’s affections all too seriously.

The next one you noticed catching feelings was Mista. However, this time around the realization was abrupt and much more difficult for you to brush off.

Sitting next to him on Bucciarati’s couch, you’d been relaxing together one afternoon.

It was the first time you two ever had done so; much to your excitement. Your heart swelled with hope, internally eager to soon be considered a part of their little family.

Then he just had to try putting an arm around you.

Your attitude over responding to Mista’s advances is notable compared to the others, because he acts very specifically towards you. He openly and clearly flirts. And a forward approach warrants a forward rejection. It’s an attitude you remember Abbacchio positively commenting on.

You turned your head, hands motionless on your lap. Yet your eyes were fueled with firm resolve, a slight squint to them.

“No thank you,” is what you simply said, more than enough for him to remove his arm and even put a few more inches between the both of you.

That honesty is respected by him, though. It causes him to change his approach for a while. And at some point, he likely realized you’re not looking for anything like that from him.

Regardless, both him and Narancia still continue to follow you around like lost puppies. Clambering for your attention and approval.

The closeness at least formed a genuine friendship with the two, one that you truly hold dear. And if the lack of any confessions is any indication, they appreciate it as well.

And where those two go, Fugo is usually following close behind them with a sour look on his face.

You just had to laugh; the trio was certainly a force to be reckoned with. Narancia and Mista welcomed you with open arms, much to Fugo’s clear annoyance. He was put off by their quick acceptance of you, likely being one of the first to point out that it’s ‘because you’re a girl.’

What really seemed to set him off initially was that they started including you in the three’s tiny click within the group as a whole. Now it isn’t just the three of them anymore, there’s a forth person taking up space.

Wouldn’t suggest mentioning it to Mista or he may genuinely consider kicking Narancia to the curb.

Eager to please, as well as apologize for disrupting this friend group’s dynamic, you tried your hardest to see eye-to-eye with Fugo.

Fortunately, the only difficult part was finding things to talk about after some time passed and he begrudgingly accepted that you were there to stay. After that, it was a slow but natural progression.

Soon, he seemed to tolerate your presence much better. Then, he started instigating conversations with you instead of it strictly being the other way around. Once enough of a bond was established, you’d started getting the impression he would much rather spend time with you than the other two.

Like with Mista, the realization hit you while sitting right next to him. It was out of the blue, as Fugo hadn’t said a word to you that day. No, your mind was just wandering and happened to connect the dots.

Well, shit. You had laughed out loud, earning confused looks from the three around you.

You were honestly concerned; more so than with the others. You couldn’t brush it off as easily as you could with Narancia, as Fugo’s timidness on the matter could mean he’d just become upset. Couple that with his short temper, and you feared you could lose his friendship over it.

Your worries were proven to be unfounded, luckily. After some discussion with Narancia and Abbacchio, you learned Fugo doesn’t actually want anything from you.

You’re silently thankful, happy to coexist with him just as normal. He could have his little crush, and still hold onto a very real friendship. Quite mature of him, but never something you’d never compliment him on directly.

In fact, thinking of Fugo makes you reminiscent of Giorno’s admittedly weird style of approach.

By then you had said… what, maybe two or three sentences in total to the kid? But out of the blue, one morning, you passed him while leaving the house.

He stopped you in your tracks, holding out his hand in front of you and keeping you still. For a moment, he was silent. But before you could open your mouth and ask him “What’s wrong?” he beat you to the punch.

You… admittedly don’t remember exactly what he told you. Something poetic about your beauty… yeah. It was the type of sentiment that was thought out thoroughly beforehand.

Still, despite feeling guilty over not remembering, it’s easy to assume it doesn’t really matter. Considering he completely went radio silent on the subject afterwards.

Perhaps he just felt like he really needed to say something before moving on, you figured.

And honestly, credit where credit is due, both Giorno and Fugo kept their distance. Enough to express it was a simple crush and nothing more. You were glad you never had to vocally turn them down, because they already understood you weren’t the one for them.

You entertained the idea of them maybe bonding over it. Talking about girls while they braid each other’s hair, you giggled to yourself, amused by the thought.

Speaking of bonding, through almost it all, Abbacchio was your rock.

It was a rough start with him, no question. For the first couple of weeks he was very critical of your decisions on missions and outside of them rarely gave you even a passing glance.

But he gradually became your scapegoat when the others were tripping over themselves for your time. Even Bruno insisted on getting his far share of time with you.

You had came to Abbacchio first, confinding in him and taking his advice very seriously. That was something he appreciated. Abbacchio’s casual attitude was a breath of fresh air when you really needed it, and was surprisingly understanding of your viewpoint (The prospect of possibly upsetting Giorno’s got to factor into that, right?).

The two of you mostly spend time together one-on-one, whether in deep conversation or comfortable silence. The foundation of your friendship was born from complaining, but you found other subjects to focus on as well.

It was, with hindsight, the most shocking development yet. Out of everyone there, you weren’t expecting to become close to Abbacchio… ever, really.

The closer you got, the more you were able to appreciate his character. He’s got a surprisingly good sense of humor, and looks after everyone on the team more than he’s given credit for. Most of all, he’s a really good listener if you’re completely h-… Are you… are you kidding me? What is happening?

You actually doubted your guess this time around for a good while; it’s far too absurd! Abbacchio’s a reserved individual, so it wasn’t as noticeable after all.

But conversations with the others made it all too clear. They knew him better than you, and when it comes to Abbacchio, no one is going to lie about his feelings just for the sake of it.

Regardless, like Giorno and Fugo, he kept his lips sealed whenever you’re around.

You felt a good amount of guilt having vented to him in the past, but if he wasn’t saying anything, you weren’t going to either.

By the time you one day received word that Bucciarati wished to speak to you in private, you seriously contemplated ditching him entirely. However, you respected the man too much to do so.

It’s an ungodly hour, you point out helplessly to yourself. I have no idea what on earth he wants to talk to me about right now, and at this point I don’t even want to know.

Your mental ramblings pause in tandem with your feet, stopping firmly in front of your boss’s office door. You shiver, pulling your robe over your front to the point of overkill. Peaking between the bottom of the door and the floor below, you smile upon seeing light still illuminating from within.

Yes, it’s an ungodly time. But both Bucciarati and I work late at night often anyways, you reason. With that in mind, you knock gingerly.

You hear a gentle “Come in,” from within the room. Smiling, you already feel Bucciarati’s aura of comfort. Entering, you spot him hunched over behind his desk. A laptop sits open on its wooden surface, but his attention’s been turned away by now.

“Apologies for asking you to come here so late,” he chuckles, returning your pleasant expression.

“It’s not very professional of you, Capo,” you jest lightheartedly. Moving swiftly, you sit yourself down on a chair placed opposite to him.

“Fair enough,” he decides, crossing his legs. “How’s your day gone, tesoro?”

You hum, contemplating his question. It’s sweet; something he always asks whenever he can. Thinking of Abbacchio, then everyone else in turn, you barely give yourself another chance to breathe while you lay out all that you’ve experienced thus far.

You loved the team, but you’d be lying if you said everyone’s affection wasn’t getting to you a little. Most of all, you worried how their feelings could effect the team as a whole. And ever since discovering how Abbacchio feels, you haven’t had anyone to discuss it with anymore.

You weren’t sure if Bruno could really do anything about it. Hell, you didn’t know if you really wanted him to. Just to talk about it unfiltered was enough weight taken off your shoulders.

Minutes pass before your voice dies down, taking in short breathes. With wide eyes, you stare at Bucciarati expectantly. However, much to your discomfort, he remains silent. His head is tilted away from you and down at his desk, pupils remaining fixated in one position. It’s a clear sign he’s in deep thought, something you’re wary of disturbing.

A moment is too long for you to wait, quick to become self conscious over your word-vomit.

He clears his throat, catching your full attention once more. Adjusting the front of his collar, his eyes were glued to your own. During a mission it would be grounding, or maybe even a little intimidating. Any other time it would be comforting. Now, the nervous energy pouring from his person offers the exact opposite.

Quietly, he simply says, “…Maybe we should talk another time, then.”

At that point, you didn’t know why you were shocked. Leaving his office, there was no doubt.

Bruno was fair, not the type to ever play favorites with anyone on the team. But upon reflection, you realize he dotes on you in a special way.

Not only did he accept and voice your place on the team almost immediately, but he seemed to request your presence during peaceful moments just as much as anyone else in the group.

And by the time you new about everyone else, that should have been a dead giveaway.

Fights or arguments had over you is never something you’ve seen for yourself. According to Narancia and Abbacchio, they do happen. The how and why is kept so vague you almost believed they were just pulling your leg.

The last time it was talked about, there was no more room for doubts on whether or not they actually occurred.

Bruno happened to be present when Narancia was talking to you about it. He was quick to step in, downplaying whatever goes on during those arguments. After that, he silenced the discussion entirely.

You were a little disappointed the subject suddenly became taboo after that day, but was also quite grateful. It was clear he took your worries very seriously, considerate of your comfort with the rest of the team.

But time marches on, making the first year with Passione feel like a lifetime ago.

You long became a part of their found family, and the idea of the others crushing on you hardly ever floats around in your brain anymore.

And when it comes to the members you’re close to in age, all thoughts of “What if…” or “Just maybe…” eventually fizzle out from their minds as well.

How could they persist? Especially after one day, when you came home from a lunch out with an old friend of yours. Smiling wide and blushing from head to toe, you couldn’t help but cheerfully tell the group about the person you now happily call your girlfriend.

[r3dkn0ts]

I wanted to start something on my own ( the ask box is open pls send requests I am bored ) and got inspired reading some prompts, so here's the DBD Killers' reactions to getting horribly flirted with! Including some of my own pick-up lines because I'm bad at flirting

Badly Flirting with The DBD Killers: Part 1 Featuring Evan MacMillan, Philip Ojomo, and Max Thompson Jr.

Themes: GN!Reader being cringe, an attempt at comedy, slight fluff, and implied smut Warnings: Canon-typical violence

The Trapper / Evan MacMillan - You got cornered while injured with no other survivors nearby. Shit. Might as well give it a shot, right? - "Hey, are you a hundred dollar bill on the ground? Because I'd pick you up and spend every bit of you immediately." - Your voice was wavering as you said it, even though you tried to look as nonchalant as possible. - Evan's loud puffing behind his mask made the silence even more deafening. Was he gonna mori you now? Probably. - "Nice try", was the only thing he said in his rough accent before swiftly downing you and putting you on a sacrificial hook. - He definitely wasn't going to admit that your pick-up line made him chuckle a bit inside of his head, or that it made you look cute. - He couldn't stop thinking about that for a while.

The Wraith / Philip Ojomo - Trapped in a corner in the garage at Gas Heaven, your friend Ace had dared you to finally confront The Wraith about how you felt the next time you met him in a trial, even supplying you with a pick-up line. - You certainly weren't one to back down from a challenge! This was stupid. - "Are you a fine wine? Because I'd love to taste you." - Philip stared down at you blankly, darting his stark white eyes between the concrete floor and your face. - Had you actually flustered him? Body language was all you really had to go off of, and the fingers on his right hand were twitching. - Before you knew it, he rang his bell to cloak and darted out of the building, leaving you alone in the cold garage. - Did you offend him? What if he's already in a relationship? Ah fuck, you didn't think of that. - You didn't know it, but he watched you run out of the exit gate, cloaked. You didn't even see him for the rest of the trial. He was too embarrassed to face you any time soon. - Much to his surprise, that was the first time he had ever gotten physically aroused after being taken into the fog. He had business to take care of after you left.

The Hillbilly / Max Thompson Jr. - The three other survivors were sacrificed. You thought you were about to get chainsawed in half, but he stopped revving when you looked like you were about to say something to him. He was curious. - "Hey, if you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber!" - Your comment made him tilt his head to the side like a confused puppy and lower his chainsaw. Did you just compliment him? Why? - His second assumption was that someone had dared you to compliment him as a joke. He was always the butt of the joke, so why would anyone actually compliment him? He's hideous! - You noticed him getting caught up in his head, so you took a chance and gently placed a hand on the deformed flesh of his arm. He flinched a bit and looked back down at you. - "Are you okay? I really did mean that. I think you're cute." - Max simply stared at you in silence. He was really, really confused. Were you serious? You sounded serious. - He looked back down at the hand you still had on his arm. You went to take it back, scared he was angry, but he grabbed your wrist as you did and pulled your smaller hand into his. - For a moment, he just looked at your hand. Your skin felt so nice against his. He had never felt someone touch him unless it was meant to hurt him. He liked this new feeling. - For once, Max felt himself smiling. He knew he had to let you go, though. So he let you leave through the hatch after you promised him you'd visit him later.

[magnoliabutters]

• THE BANISHED ONES •

pairing: eddie munson x (he/him) reader

summary: nothing beats your first day at hawkins high. you meet your guide, munson, along the journey...

warnings: 18+ content & characters, minors dni, adult language; set in 1983-4, reader nicknamed "j," fluff comfort, fist fight, bullying, heavy petting, pb&j?, nasty food, make out sesh, peer pressure, novice reader, dungeons & dragons discussed (of course), eddie dom, slight mentions of violence and anxiety, almost caught, y/l/n: 1, eventual smut, references to previous parts, semi-public, detailed oral (reader & munson receiving), after care, internal dialogue, consent discussions, so far…

word count: ~14.5k so far...

reblogs for sweet baby eddie! 👹

note: why hello! i missed this story so i'm coming back to add more just in time for pride month! originally, my plan was to close it out on part three but i had way too much fun writing soooo sorry not sorry ♥️ i hope you enjoy this sweet, sexy story as much as i do! this story is also heavily based into the world and game of dnd!

• part one • the demon's stronghold •

• part two • business first •

• part three • i think we’re alone now •

• part four • munson’s guiding light •

• part five • coming soon •

comment and/or reblog if you'd like to join the taglist!

taglist: @wolfiescosplay, @eddiesprettygirl, @unholycheesesnack, @wrandomwritting, @amberolivia666, @migwayne, @lilpotatobean2, @seatnights, @moonofblindness, @hells-glory-hole (incredible name btw), @teaandpsychiatry, @siddunbi, @sad1st1c-wh0re, @sittinonvogues, @79chevyimpala, @priviatepost, & @cl0wnbehavior

• series • updates •

[ghoulishbuck]

What are somethings you wish more bookish people would do or talk about?

I’d love to see more people go secondhand book shopping, using a library including footage from inside the library, reading challenges, and trying books out of their comfort zone.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Babe Across The Bar [LGBT+ Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: Feminine LGBT+ reader who expresses romantic/sexual attraction for more than just men. HOMOPHOBES BEGONE! List is primarily TBB centric, with a few bonus Clones. Minor suggestive content/dialogue. Pining. Gay Panic™. Mentions of alcohol. Sprinkling of Mando'a. Minor language. There's one line that could be interpreted as the reader experiencing being outed against her will, but kept vague in Tech's section of these snapshot scenarios. Hardcase's section deals with homophobes. Doesn’t follow the typical headcanons put into bullet points format because I ended up being a little too inspired for these! Some of these also deviated from the original prompt, but I feel they still relate enough to warrant inclusion. 

Word-count: 4,694

Prompt: How would the boys (any boys, all the boys, whomever boys) react to their gal friend/crewmate and/or feminine S/O commenting on how stunning another girl is?

Hunter (Crewmate offering to be your wingman) 

His eyes often flit to the door whenever someone walks in out of habit in large part to his senses. Keeping an eye on his surroundings. Things he was trained to do. So he notices the attractive woman who's just strolled in through the front entrance of 79's. Her clothing, her hair, her nails are all beautiful and immaculate.

And he notices how your breath hitches in your throat when you see her. But it's not insecurity or jealousy that made you do that. He's caught on for a while now that you "swing more than one way" as it were. But you've never been explicit in your words, or given him the big speech, so he's kept his mouth shut. If a member of his crew has something to tell him, he wants to give them a chance.  You're no different.

But the comment under your breath is enough to finally ask. "Oh Maker, she's gotta be one of the angels from Iego…" You've just compared her to the Diathim of Millius Prime, practically swooning. 

He takes a sip of his drink, eyes trained on the bombshell beauty you seem to be pining for. "You wanna go talk to her?" 

You shake your head rapidly at him, trying not to choke on the drink in your hands with the fruit-flavored and colorful, jelly-like particulate. (It's new to the novelty drinks menu at 79's, so Hunter's not sure how it tastes, but you seem to like it.) "Oh stars no!" Did he misread the situation before him, were you looking at her with jealousy after all? 

You sigh, putting your head in your hands with a groan. "She's so out of my league… She's probably only here for the troopers, anyways." you add solemnly, finally slumping forward in your seat at the bar top. Hunter sets down his glass and plants a steady hand on your shoulder in a gesture of comfort. He's still getting to know you as a regular part of his squad, in all fairness, but he should have trusted his instinct. You did seem to have a thing for women. 

So maybe he could offer to help. 

"Well… if you've had enough liquid courage and want to try your luck, I'll be your wingman, cyar'ika." he says, giving you a friendly pat after slowly sitting up. You'll think about it, you murmur. 

You never end up making a move to so much as introduce yourself to her, much, much too nervous. At the end of the night, Hunter, who had tried to coax and encourage you several times throughout the night, just gives you another pat on the back. "Maybe next time, cyare. Don't feel too bad." As you walk back to the Marauder together, Hunter won't pressure you into it of course but he offers to help you practice for next time, if you think it'll cheer you up. As part of his squad, there'll always be the banter and the teasing of course, but Hunter will always offer to help.

Crosshair (Initially confused (+ insecure) partner)

Sight sharper than a knife, he was not quite afraid to check out the beautiful woman hanging off another Clone's elbow once upon a time. But now, with you, he keeps himself in check for the most part. You've briefly had that talk as a relatively new couple, that really it’s okay. It’s only natural to look. We’re all kriffing human, after all, aren’t we? The whole possessive ownership aspect is weird and icky to you, and you’re not gonna get yourself in a twist just because you catch him glancing at another woman. But he realizes there's probably something else you should have talked about together. 

You like women too, and you’re looking at them just as much. It's hard to miss by the fifth instance of a remark like "Oh, she's cute!" and subsequent gestures with your glass to indicate who you're looking at. He's trying so hard not to feel like you’re testing him. Like you’re playing some little game by calling his loyalty into question, just how “obedient” he’ll really be. "Oh, yeah?" There's a strange twist of discomfort in his guts that he can't figure out. Is he jealous? Is he upset? (Should he order something to eat from the overpriced appetizer menu?)

"Yeah, I mean, look at her," you invite him with a flashy smile, "she's cute!" 

He blinks at you with mild concern. He's heard alcohol brings out a different side in people, and he can't recall the full array of what you've had to drink. "Are you feeling alright?" He's unsure why he's so bothered. Is it because you're not paying attention to him? 

"Better than alright, Cross. What's wro-? Oh. Oh shit didn't I tell you?" you set down your drink with a soft laugh and an apology, face looking flushed in a way that has nothing to do with the red and purple club lights. "I, uh, I play for more than one team, romantically at least. I'm sorry if I never told you, Crosshair." 

He frowns for a split second, but he quickly answers that there's no need to apologize. He was a little confused at first sure (and perhaps slightly envious that you were commenting so openly on other people who weren't him), but he takes a look now at the woman you had indicated. She's not just cute, "Oh, the smoke show in the red dress?" 

"Yeah. That's the one." you nod approvingly, the movement slow and deliberate. "She's a stunner, ain't she?" Certainly is, he agrees. (One of his brothers sighs playfully and makes the remark that nights out to 79's, or any bar for that matter, will get a lot more interesting from now on.) 

The rest of the night carries on this way, you making the occasional glancing once-over of another trooper's arm-candy for the night, but most of your attention is given to Crosshair. You're with him for a reason. You know how to behave yourself, for kriff's sake. Any inkling of the horrible, hateful stereotypes of your orientation being true are so far from reality. You don't make passes at everyone you see. You keep your comments innocent and general if you decide to get a little gutsy and talk to one of them. 

The redhead's got curls to die for, what kind of product is she using?

That is such a cute dress (with pockets!) that you have to know where she got it, because you swear you've seen fashion like that on Naboo. 

Sorry if this is weird to ask but she's totally wearing a designer fragrance from one of the Core Worlds, right?  

By the end of the night, Crosshair is reassured that you're not playing any kind of game with him, and perhaps the two of you will be having another talk to smooth out any wrinkles he has in his understanding of your orientation; but you promise him over and over you're with him for a reason in case any of your comments tonight made him feel any doubt. Just because you swing more than one way does not mean you're going to leave in the event you feel a stronger preference for women for a while. You love him. 

And he wholly believes you. 

Wrecker (Your enthusiastic hype-man)

"Oh shit." You hunker down in the booth seat, wide-eyed and breathless.

Wrecker reflexively glances down at the casual fatigues he wore to 79's tonight instead of the dark red and gray armor he typically wears. "Wha'? Did I get dip on myself again?" He doesn't see anything, so he takes a look at you, and that's when he notices you practically halfway under the table. "Did you drop something? I can lift the table so it's easier to-!"

"No!" you blurt out, sitting up. "That won't be necessary! Don't lift the table!" 

You're starting to confuse him. "Then what's wrong?" 

"She's here." A slightly shaky finger is pointed across the Clone bar, where seated at the counter, is the woman who's only ever shown interest in the other girls often brought here, or the dancers. You've had a not-so-silent crush on her for ages but didn't want to go and try anything. Until last week when she turned down what must've been the hundredth trooper. "Sorry fellas, afraid I'm not interested. But you'd all definitely be my type if I was into men." Oh Maker you'd been a hopeless mess. 

The endless inner cycle of 'do I want to BE her, or do I want to be WITH her?' had finally sorted itself out in your head after that. 

Wrecker knew from the jump that your romantic and sexual interests did not begin and end with men when he caught you staring at the same woman as him in a dirty jumpsuit on the airfield. And then literally caught you when you tripped over Tech's box of tools in your distraction. Ever since, he's done his best to help you make a move over someone you were clearly feeling something for. 

"Go talk to her!" Wrecker encourages you, nudging your ribs with a careful elbow, "Say hi!" 

"Maker, I can't, she's so pretty a-and like-? Oh Wrecker I can't even explain it… It's like I look at her and I just-"

Wrecker chuckles softly, leveling you with a look that tells you he knows exactly what you mean. "Have trouble thinkin' straight because she's gonna be paying attention and you don't want to kark it up?" 

You bite your bottom lip so hard he's worried you'll make it bleed and get it all over your pretty little outfit. "Y-yes! I'm so nervous…" 

He tells you not to worry about it too much, you're overthinking it! "Introduce yourself, mesh'la. You'll kick yourself for days if you don't." Okay, okay, he's right. Here goes nothing, you say. You slip out of the booth seat and sidle up to the drinks counter under the notion of ordering another drink first, but your crush takes notice of you in her proximity, and all she manages is a pleasant hello before you're a grinning mess. Wow, you had it bad for her. You stammer through your introduction, and give her your name as you say it was nice to meet her, and sure, you'd love to chat while the drink slinger whips something up! 

In one of your many nervous glances around the club, he makes sure you get a clear view of his approving thumbs up. You're doing great! You end up talking to her for nearly forty-five minutes before she has to leave, she's got work in the morning, but she's scribbling something down on the bar top that Wrecker can't see. 

"Hey, look at you! You did it, kid!" Wrecker cheers as you walk back over to the booth in a daze, your eyes focused on the slip of flimsiplast in your hands. 

"Sh-she gave me her comm frequency… What does that mean?" 

Wrecker can only laugh. Oh man, guess even you will have your help-how-do-I-function-around-a-girl-I've-never-even-met-a-girl moments he's seen many Clones have. 

"I think that means she wants to keep talking to ya, ad'ika." 

"O-oh." Is all you simply say. "Holy kriff I did it. I talked to her." you add after a long, long pause as Wrecker adds the number into your contacts for you, just in case the flimsi gets wet and you end up losing the number before the night is over. 

"You sure did! I knew you could do it!" 

Tech (Not-so-surprised friend) 

To him, the fact that you have a romantic, perhaps even sexual interest in women is as obvious as the fact that the phenotypic eye color for (most) Clones is brown. 

That's simply just how it is, in his world. But he has extensively researched how significant a coming out is for people such as yourself who do not fall under a heteronormative scope. He does not ask. He does not hint to you that he knows. And if he has let it slip, he is careful to express that it is not a big deal. 

Not a big deal in the sense that he would end a friendship with you, or view you as if there was something "broken" and "defective" about you. That would be rather hypocritical of him after all. Well, sort of. He's more deviant than defective, because his genetic mutations do not hinder his ability to perform as a competent soldier of the GAR, and much like your inclinations, that is not something he has control over. He is simply a Clone from a "bad batch" much in the same way that you are a woman who fancies other women. 

If you were to even come out to him, he has already carefully considered what he would say to you. He values your friendship and your company. He would very much like to maintain this by saying the right thing. 

That he is glad that you trusted him enough to share such an important facet of yourself. That though, quite honestly, he has questions, he will save them for another time. That he understands you must be nervous, scared even, but he will never treat you any different than before you told him. And he most definitely will not tell you that he deduced this months ago. 

But blast him, when you sent him a message asking to meet up at 79's a little earlier before the typical meetup, he was so certain that this was the conversation. So he had been mentally coaching himself on what to say, but more importantly what not to say so much, that when you slipped into the booth and said "I wanna tell you something, Tech…" it slipped his mouth faster than a Mon Calamari in water. 

"That you like women?" 

Oh shit. Oh shitshitshit. That was the thing he was supposed to refrain from saying or asking! 

"Hah… Was I really that obvious? Did I worry for nothing?" You ask with a sincere laugh. You're not offended, or angry, or anything in the slightest. In fact, you look relieved. "...Tech?"

"I'm so sorry." is all he can offer. Oh Maker, he's so incredibly sorry, he tells you. He's robbed you of the chance to have a very significant conversation about what many deem unnatural, but in fact it's not; just before you joined him in their usual booth at 79's he was reading an admittedly rather heartwarming article about same-sex couples occuring in the galactic animal kingdom before you arrived, actually! (Everything from the little nuna to the mighty and magnificent purrgil!) But he's suspected this for some time and didn't think it was his place to ask. He's sorry he's ruined this chance for y-

You interrupt him with a laugh as you take one of his hands and squeeze it reassuringly. You just laugh and laugh, a grin from ear to ear the whole time before you settle yourself. "Oh, Tech… It's okay! I don't care if it didn't end up being surprising to you. I'm just so glad you understood that you shouldn't say something just because it was obvious in this case. Thank you. You're a good friend. Not everyone has been." 

He's sorry to hear that, first and foremost. "But I am… glad that you trusted me enough to want to tell me." 

Echo (Friend who's known for ages)

Echo carefully tests whatever fun and colorful drink you ordered for yourself as you give his a try. The two of you have been friends for ages, since before the Citadel. So that means Echo's known nearly as long as you've been friends that you swing more than one way. In fact, it was surprisingly comforting to know that had not changed since ending up in a Techno Union chamber. 

"Hey, cyar'ika. Can I ask if you… Would it be weird to…" he sighed sharply and says he's just going to rip off the bacta patch and ask. "Do you still like women in addition to-?" 

"Don't worry. That hasn't changed while you were gone." you told him, wrapping him up in a careful hug on one of those first nights since he'd been freed and given time to rest. To fill himself in on what happened in the galaxy around him since being plugged into an algorithm. "Welcome back, Echo." 

He sets the drink down and shakes his head, and you give him back his beverage with a disgusted shudder. "Ugh. How can you stand that?" you both tease each other in tandem. 

"I don't understand your taste in beverages, but at least I understand your taste in women." Echo rags on you with a mischievous smile, indicating someone across the club who's been staring at the drinks menu for the last three minutes. "How about her? Clone News Network suggests she's a little shy, perhaps, but I've heard you have a similar hobby. That's something, hm?" 

You scoff, knowing well enough that the rumor mill requires taking things with a grain of salt. "Oh no, that's not enough to just-"

"She's also of 'multiple persuasions'." Echo assures you, quelling that particular anxiety. "Believe me, I asked around rather… extensively." he suggests. 

"Oh, did you now?" 

"Mhm." 

"Are you trying to set me up on a d-?"

Echo shakes his head. "Mm-mn. Only asked if any of the boys had gotten a vibe, or heard anything. She's pretty forthcoming about it, turns out, so it's not like this was something I found by invading her privacy or betraying trusts." He's a skilled tactician, he reminds you gently, and he understands that asking around takes delicacy and knowing that you can't just ask any ol' brother. 

He's nothing but mindful, as ever. "If you wanna do anything about it, that's up to you. You get more out of something when you want it, I wasn't going to set you up for something against your will."

You take a thoughtful swig of your beverage and set the glass down on the bar top once more. "If I did… would you help me plan on how to make a move? You know I'm a little hopeless with this stuff. Guys are one thing, but, I dunno, it's different when trying to flirt with another woman as a woman." you admit with a nervous laugh. 

Of course he would, Echo promises sweetly, kindly as ever. 

BONUS CLONES

Fives (Gives you advice)

Between reminding Hardcase not to go in rotary cannons blazing nearly every mission, and coming up with sufficient battle strategies as an Advanced Recon Commando, Fives is nearly convinced that he'll go gray by the time he's, what, technically fifteen? Nearly. 

So in a way, he loves when you send him a message asking for his input on low-stakes stuff. No one's in any danger, he's not worried about a brother's safety, and he still gets to show off how smart he is. 

>Oh Maker Fives help there's a total babe here tonight I think she's super cute but I don't know if it's safe to make a move or say anything what do I do

It's 21:00: are you at 79's?

> Yeah why

79's is a pretty accepting establishment, so see if anything she brought with her or is wearing has any kind of pin, or keychain or deliberate color scheme, Ka'ra. Take a deep breath. 

He chuckles as he watches the bubbles start and stop at the bottom of the messaging feature repeatedly. Poor you. Must be so nervous. So worked up on your own anxiety and panic that you might benefit from a second, teasing reminder. 

Ka'raaaa. Did you take a deep breath, silly? I don't care what the song says, love is not a battlefield, you don't need to panic. 

He thinks for a second and changes his mind. 

Actually no, scratch that. It is, but it isn't. You still need a strategy, but you need to have a level head first. 

> You're right, you're right. Taking a deep breath

Captain Rex seems to materialize behind him and over the shoulder like a hologram, peering down at the screen out of curiosity. "Those don't look like reports. One of our brothers having a little lady trouble at 79's again?" 

Fives laughs in good humor. "I'm not exactly sure why I got designated the 501st's biggest flirt, but I'll take it, Captain." He can get plenty nervous and unsure of what to say like anyone else, but Fives cares about his brothers; of course he's going to do his best to help them. "No, it's our favorite mechanic here on Coruscant." He trusts his Captain will exercise his discretion and make no mention of knowing the romantic and sexual persuasions of their friend if she hadn't made explicit mention to him. "I see. Well, wish her luck for me. I've got my own reports I've put off long enough."

"I'll have mine in by 21:30, Captain!" Fives promises, knowing he'll probably be helping some of the Shinies learn to fill them out properly once again. A little extra guidance and another source of advice goes a long way for many, brothers and friends alike. 

> Good call about looking for pins, Fives. I think I'm in the clear

He's not totally sure what that color scheme ties to when you describe the personal touch this "total babe across the bar" has added to her handbag looks like, but the simple fact that you're now fairly sure you're safe to flirt with her (if that's what you decide to do) brings you a lot of relief. 

Him too, honestly. 

You gonna go for it, mesh'la? The Captain and I wish ya luck if you do!

> I'd have to think of the right words first, but thanks Fives. You coming to 79's later tonight?

Have reports to finish up, so we'll see. 

> Your's or some of your brothers'? (Is it Hardcase's again?)

Very funny, Ka'ra. I just try to be helpful to whoever asks.

> I'm only teasing~ You're a very smart dependable brother, and friend, Fives. Next time you come to 79's if it's not tonight, I'll buy you a drink as a way of saying thank you.

Fives smiles. He'd like that, he responds. He wishes you luck once more, and says he should get a start on wrapping this particular report up since it contains information the Captain will need to report to General Skywalker with. 

Never told us there'd be this much damn paperwork to do as part of our training on Kamino if you're gonna be made an ARC trooper. 

> Good thing you're smart, Fives. I'm confident you'll figure out something wicked intelligent, like how to stop this war one day. 🩷

Captain Rex (Doing his best to learn and support you)

"Huh… gotta say, there's certainly a lot to try to understand; I might still have a few questions about it, but I'm not gonna pry into it if you don't feel like explaining it." The Captain admits, scratching the back of his neck with a soft chuckle. "I'm not quite up to speed on all this, but-" 

"Rex, it's okay." you assure him. "I know you're doing your best. I only told you a short while ago, remember? And hey," here you take his hand and give him a friendly squeeze, "it took me a while to realize this stuff about myself too. It's not always like the media where it just… "clicks", suddenly! It's almost like a building suspicion, or passing thoughts that you try to excuse at first, but then you realize that you're feeling these feelings and thinking these thoughts more and more. And that's when you tend to figure out "Oh, hey, that term I found on the Holonet describes me!" and it all makes sense. For the most part." 

"Oh?" Rex asks, intrigued. 

"Sometimes you find a label or orientation that fits you better than one you were first using." you explain, scribbling down a few labels off the top of your head onto a scrap of flimsi you had among your things as you met up with the Captain for a cup of caf on your day off, "Like say, you think this one best explains you," you circle an example, "so you use it for a while. But then later you hear about this-" you x-out the first label and circle a new one, "and you find it does a much better job of explaining how you feel. And there was nothing wrong with identifying with the first one for a while until you found what fit better and changed it, either." 

He nods thoughtfully, very clearly mulling this over. Then it hits him. "A little like, well, when a Clone finds their name?" 

"Yes!" you cheer, "Yes, kinda like when a Clone finds his name! Maybe he thought he wanted to be called Skip for a while, but he decided he felt more comfortable with naming himself Tripper after hearing someone else say it for the first time." 

He thinks he better understands this now when he thinks of it in this context, he explains with a smile that suggests a lot of relief. He's just so busy, but he wanted to understand what you meant after the last night out you had with the 501st and you were all sharing embarrassing stories. Rex wasn't a stranger to the fact that men could like men and women could like women, but some of these other labels were lost on him. 

"I've been around a while, but I have to admit I don't know what that means." he sheepishly replied when you explained what your orientation was as part of your embarrassing situation. But now that he knows, Rex wants you to know you'll always have his support.

Hardcase (Identifies as a Kriffing Problem if you don't respect his friends) 

It's good news for you, bad news for the nasties when they decide that they want to be antagonistic in a safe space. You wanted to check out a new, very accepting bar in the area, and had asked Hardcase to come along with you to help ease your nerves about it. 

His lively energy would do everyone some good, you figured. He was friendly and personable, so he'd get along with everyone. And you were right; Hardcase truly does get along with everyone from the snappily-dressed bartenders to the other allies who are there to support their friends in case there's trouble. 

Everyone except the bigots. He's always been all-smiles off the battlefield due to his energetic nature, and you've never seen him drop a smile so fast. When it's time to get serious, Hardcase gets serious. "What the kriff did you say?" He's not asking because he didn't hear what insults had been lobbied your way, he's giving the other guy a chance to back down and leave if he knows what's good for him. "I know you didn't just say that about my friend." 

The other guy repeats himself, louder this time. "I said anyone who identifies as a-"

"I'm about to identify as a kriffing problem if you don't shut the hell up." Hardcase warns him one last time, putting himself between you and the antagonizer who overheard you mentioning there were a lot of cute girls here tonight.. "Sorry that you feel so threatened by a woman finding someone other than you attractive, but that's a "you" problem that you should take somewhere else." He suggests they take a hike to 79's specifically. He conveniently "forgets" to mention that it's a Clone bar, and as the troublemakers leave, he tips off a few of his brothers about what's headed their way. 

"Don't worry about them. They'll find out how many of us identify as a kriffing problem before they think about trying this again anytime soon." Hardcase promises, his sweet and charming smile present like it never even left as he checks on you after the fact.

Tagging: @the-hexfiles

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[pickle-the-lad]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48282202/chapters/121766998

Okay, I have edited chapters 4 through 6 to remove the gala. It was clunking up my story and keeping me from doing things that are required to have for certain situations to come up. I hope y'all don't mind♡

I'm going to try to become three chapters ahead, and I might update bi-monthly when that happens.

[makingqueerhistory]

Read the rainbow!

[salem-witch-slut]

Prostitution (18+)

Sevika x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Of all the girls in the brothel, and she picked you.

WARNINGS: Brothel work (prostitute!reader), dom!Sevika, sub!reader, hair pulling, leather lingerie, grinding, fingering, strap-on use (r!receiving), Daddy Sevika, biting (briefly)

WORD COUNT: 2.1K

A/N: In honor of Arcane Season 2 coming out today, thought I would bring back one of my best kinktober prompts with everybody's favorite muscle mommy. Briefly considered making a part 2 for this but lemme know what you guys think?

dividers made by @cafekitsune

Why did you think this was a good idea?

Well, truth be told, you didn’t think this was a good idea… But it was the only idea you had left. Your family was dead, like everyone was in the Undercity. Your partner got herself killed from a shimmer overdose, and you were facing being homeless. Your entire world was turned upside down and it was all fucked to no end. But now you had to pick up the pieces.

You were hired at the brothel. What the actual fuck were you thinking? Well, you knew Babette, and she was willing to give you a chance. It was decent money, and you were given free food during every shift. How could you turn it down?

It was your first week and you have already been through hell. The women who came to the brothel tended to be high on shimmer and sloppy at best, but the men; they were aggressive, vicious, and you found yourself leaving with aches and pains every single night.

And yet, when you entered the room that you were assigned to today, you were surprised to say the least. The outfit on the bench was… strange. Normally, the clientele wanted something revealing, lace, and soft bright colors. No, you were given something black, made of leather, and matching black heels to complete the look.

“Don’t question it,” You told yourself. “Just put it on.”

You slowly stripped off all your clothes and pulled on the leather bustier and black lace panties. Your fingers twitched slightly as you strapped the heels to your feet and ran your fingers through your hair… Your lipstick was a deep maroon color, and you had dark, dramatic eyeliner. Seems like you thought it all out already?

Who was your client today? Why were you so nervous? What if it was a man that was three times your size? What if it was more than one man? What if you got hurt today?

“Did you hear about who she picked today?” A shiver raced down your spine as you approached the curtains in front of your door, biting down on your painted lip. Who were they talking about?

“Oh, I heard. Cute little new girl is about to get ruined today, huh?” You… they were talking about you! But who else? Who was she?

You’ll get your answer soon enough.

It felt like forever until you heard heavy footfalls in the hallways. Whispers carried in the corridors, along with the aggressive clicks of heels from your fellow ‘coworkers’ running away from whoever was making their presence known inside of the building. Your fingers trembled as you dared a peek out from behind your curtain.

Not even a second later, the curtain was being pulled back and in walked your client… Tall, muscular, handsome, and absolutely terrifying.

The brothel’s most regular visitor. Silco’s right hand… the person that everyone in the underground fears.

Sevika.

You nearly fell down the stairs, heels slipping on the concrete flooring as you tried to back away and give her the space she deserved. But it seemed she had other ideas.

Before your body could come in contact with the ground, the woman reached out and grabbed both of your hips with her hands. Her right hand was warm and calloused, a pulse beneath her flesh, but her left hand? Cold, sharp, and thrumming with the energy of her mechanical arm hidden beneath that cloak she always wears.

“Easy, doll,” Her voice is deep, husky almost as she steps forward and lowers you down to the stable surface behind you. Shivers raced down your back, and you couldn’t stop yourself from trembling in her grasp. For a moment, neither of you said anything. But then her eyes raked all over your body and she breathed, hard. “Damn, look at you… Pretty little thing all dressed up just for me?”

Were you supposed to speak? You have heard so many stories about Sevika… how aggressive and cruel she is out there on the streets, and how she kills without mercy or a care in the world. You were scared of her, to say the least… And Sevika could see it in your eyes. She knew what her reputation was and was more than happy to push the agenda.

“Scared of me?”

You inhaled sharply, your hands slowly sliding from your sides to hold onto her forearms. The whirring of the mechanics of her arm made your thighs tremble. “N-No, miss…”

“Funny,” Sevika reached down and gently ran her rough fingertips along the edge of your jaw before she slid her hand in your hair. “Only dumb girls feel no fear… Now, you aren’t dumb, are you sweet thing?”

 You breathed slowly for a second, fearing you said something wrong to her. She looked amused, but looks could be deceiving… The gap between her two front teeth was cute. You focused on the crease of her jawline, the scars on her face, and the way her brows were pulled down.

She was so fucking hot that you forgot why you were afraid… and then, she grabbed at your hair, making you yelp and submit. Your hands had slid far too high up, and she was punishing you… Fuck, she was punishing you! “Better watch it. I’m paying to touch you, not the other way around.”

“But—” You hiccupped, looking into her eyes for the briefest second. She waited for your words to continue. “S-sorry…”

“Oh, she has manners?” Sevika showed off the smile that made your stomach flutter for a brief moment and reached down with both hands, gripping your thighs and lifting you off the floor like you weighed almost nothing to her. Out of instinct, your hands reached up and grabbed onto her shoulders for stability. “We’re going to have fun.”

Before you could utter another sound, you felt something press against you… something solid, and stiff. Something that felt like it was alive, right against the wet spot on your panties. A low moan left your throat, and you just immediately knew what it was.

“Take it off, doll,” Sevika breathed against your neck. “You know you want to.”

Fingers trembled as you reached for the cloak on her shoulders and slowly pulled it over her head. The brown fabric dropped to the floor behind her, and you looked down, confirming your suspicion. Sevika was strapped under her pants… the bulge was now way more obvious without the cloak.

“Feel that?” Sevika pressed her flesh hand to your rear and stepped forward, spinning you around and sitting herself down on the couch behind you. The second you were in her lap, she was pushing you down onto her hips and grinding the bulge against your cunt like it was her damn birthright to do so.

Your pulse quickened with every passing second, and you dropped your face down against her chest, breathing in the scent of tobacco and her natural scent… Strong, earthy, like a roaring wood fire. You didn’t know what came over you, but before you could scold yourself for knowing better, your tongue came in contact with her bear neck and your lips trailed all over her exposed skin.

Sevika tensed up and her fingers went from holding your hips to sliding under the fabric of your panties, grabbing at your flesh and making you instinctively bite down on her shoulder. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but enough for her to feel it. Sevika looked like she was about to start climbing the walls as she felt your hips roll forward on top of her.

With a simple flick of her metallic fingers, the underwear given to you was ripped off your body and you barely had time to recover before Sevika was lifting you off her lap and reaching to pull the zipper of her pants down. A sigh left your throat, and you could only push your face into her neck; Sevika didn’t like that.

“Nuh-uh,” She grabbed your chin with her flesh hand, pulling you back to look down into her eyes. Her grey irises were staring directly passed your fears and into your soul. It was like she was lighting you on fire from the inside out. “You look at me. Prettiest fucking girl is going to look at me when I fuck her.”

Her words made you blush from the tips of your ears down to your neck and you almost forgot that this was your job… It was easy to think that Sevika had just picked you out of everyone in the underground to have a night with. Not… that she was paying for it.

“Don’t worry,” Sevika smirked, that crease in her brow becoming more prominent as you felt her hand leave your face and slide down between your legs. When you felt her calloused fingers against your soft wet folds, you forgot how to breathe. “Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

The sound you made was beyond pornographic. Two of her fingers slipped inside of your wetness without any kind of resistance. Your entire body went rigid, and your eyes fluttered for a brief second before you forced yourself to look at her. Sevika smirked and basked in your expressions, slowly pushing you up and down on her digits.

What did you even say? What were you supposed to do? Sevika isn’t like your other clients… She’s so intense, even when she’s barely touching you. It feels like you are drowning, even if it’s just her presence surrounding you. Your inner walls squeeze at her fingers as she curls them at just the right angle. Sevika smirked.

“Oh, you like that?” Sevika kept you steady on her lap with her metal hand while the other one worked in and out of your pussy. “So wet for me, already? Barely touched you, doll.”

“Fuuck...” You rolled your entire body forward, biting your lip and leaning down just enough to press soft kisses against her face. “P-Please—”

“Please, what?” Sevika said sternly. “Use your words, doll.”

“I… I n-need… ohfuck...”

“Come on,” She smirked, curling her fingers at just the right angle that you almost feel your legs give out. “Just say it—”

“Fuck me,” You whine, finally giving in. “Please, please, please… fuck me, daddy.”

There was a hunger in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It was like a switch had flipped inside of her because in mere seconds, you went from sitting on her lap to her pushing you down into the floor that was littered with pillows, blankets, anything you could desire to make this as comfortable as possible.

Sevika all but ripped her pants to try and free what had been teasing you initially. You only had a few seconds to really look at the strap around her hips before she was lining the tip of the bright purple silicone against your core.

“Pretty little thing,” Sevika growled, almost ferally as she slammed down overtop of you. Suddenly, the leather around your chest felt entirely too tight, like you couldn’t breathe. You began frantically reaching for the ties to undo the restraint on your chest, and Sevika noticed because you gasped at her ripping the ropes off the bustier and pushing the fabric apart to really look at you.

“Now, because you were a good girl…” Sevika gently prodded your opening, making you whimper and reach for her biceps. “You get a warning before you get fucked.”

“Daddy, please—”

That was her trigger. You could only grab at her muscles before she was plunging all of her strap inside of your cunt like it belonged to her. You tried to scream, but nothing came out other than a strangled squeak as your head went back on the pillows and tears filled your eyes.

You aren’t a stranger to being stretched out like this. It wasn’t like it was your first day at the brothel… but it was your first day with Sevika. She only gave you a few seconds to adjust to that cock before she was reaching down with her flesh fingers and gently rubbing at your clit.

Your soft squeaks faded into intense moans, much to the woman’s delight. She chuckled, watching you squirm and look at her like she was an alien of some sort.

“Not what you expected, doll?” Sevika teased, rolling her hips forward and making you moan like the whore you were. “Didn’t think I’d care about making you feel good?”

Very stupidly, you nodded.

“Let me fix that,” She leaned down, and you curled your fingers into the leather of her jacket before bracing yourself for the most intense workday of your entire fucking life.

“Be good for daddy and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll beg me not to leave.”

And that is exactly what Sevika did.

[midnight-lestrange]

"I wanna be dominated"

- Aubrey Plaza

[teliphone]

Tickles, Doesn't it?

Summary: You get partnered with Rio Vidal to work on the newest case. You can't understand her and it feels like she doesn't like you. In a short amount of time, you feel like you've impressed her and she finds you interesting to mess with.

Warning(s): Smut, Death (not you), Blood, Overstimulation, Fingering, Oral, Sub!FemReader

Word Count: 5.6k

-

Rio Vidal slowly walks over with one hand in her black pants. Her other hand holds onto the new case files. She stops in front of your desk and drops the heavy file before you. You flinch back a little before looking up. Her face is stern as she crosses her arms across her chest. This move causes her chest to peek out from her slightly unbuttoned white dress shirt. She raises her eyebrows. 

“These are the new documents on the case the chief assigned you. This will be the first time you’re partners with me. Don't screw things up for me, alright?” She warns. You bite your tongue from speaking back. You never understood why she has always been so cold to you. You were no longer a rookie in the department nor did you slack at your job. 

Your eyes lower from her face to the file. Your fingers touch the edges of the papers. Before you could flip the page, you see a shadow cast over the paper. You tilt your head up to see her body towering above you. Her hands firmly grab the edge of the desk. She leans her head down to stare deep into your eyes. You nervously gulp from the closeness. You can see her black bra peeking above her open shirt. 

“You’re not going to respond to me?” She asks slowly. Your breathing halts a little. You nervously glance around her face, taking this opportunity to take in her features. Her eyes are brown with a slight hint of dark eye circles underneath. Her eyeliner and mascara are on the darker side. Her lip color is red matte. She is irritatingly attractive. You didn’t know you could be attracted to an older woman til you set eyes on her. 

“About what?” You question. Her tongue sticks out against the inside skin of her mouth in frustration. She narrows her eyes at you one last time before pushing herself off the table. She tugs her black suit to straighten herself. 

“I’ll be in my office if you have any questions,” She moves on. She doesn’t wait for you to respond and starts walking away. You watch her slightly swing her hips with each step. You let out a soft groan once she’s out of view. You stare back down at the stacks of papers. It is going to take a while to catch up on this case. 

-

There is a meeting with some officers at the station. You were fortunate to be sitting alongside the other top detectives and chiefs… which includes Rio Vidal. You nervously bit your bottom lip as you stare at her. She sits across the table with an emotionless expression. She slumps back into the seat. Her fingertips playfully drum against the seat handle. Her eyes examine the area til she lands on you. You snap your head away and self cautiously straighten your back. You sneak a peek at her again to confirm she’s still staring at you. The corner of her lips curve into a smile and you feel your heart hammer against your chest. You could not understand what her facial expression meant. The meeting continues as usual, except for the fact you keep making eye contact with her. You force yourself to stop looking over and glued your attention to the chief. Rio Vidal notices your behavior change and brings the back of her hand to cover her lips. She sucks in a deep breath and gently releases. Once the meeting ends you quickly dart towards the door. You rush to your seat to avoid any conversations. You pick up a highlighter and start circling important details on your case paper. A shadow casts over the papers again and you grip the highlighter. 

“What do you want?” You sigh as you look up at the culprit. Rio Vidal smiles widely as she dares to lean closer to your face. Her scent becomes stronger. 

“Put on your jacket,” She orders. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“Wait why…” You drift off as she starts to walk away. You sigh in frustration but don’t waste time to follow orders. You toss the highlighter aimlessly on your desk and get up from your seat. You swing your trench coat on and stumble on your footing to catch up with her. She walks out of the police station and stares at the sunset. She can feel the cold wind creeping against her exposed skin. She hears your footsteps behind her and starts walking to her car. 

“Where are we going?” You call out. 

“Crime scene,” She blankly states. You widen your eyes in realization. This will be the first search with her. You open the passenger side and quietly sit. You watch her turn on the engine and shift the gear to reverse. Suddenly she places a hand behind the head of your seat and you stiffen. She turns her body to look behind her car as she reverses. You awkwardly stare at the window to limit yourself from gawking at her. She sneaks a glimpse at your figure and watches how your throat lumps with each shallow. She returns her hands to the stirring wheel. The whole car ride was silent. There was not much to talk about. Rio Vidal keeps to herself and you have a suspicion that she dislikes you. As you stare at the window you notice the sky getting dark. A few minutes later you see raindrops roll down on the window. You clench the jacket closer to your body. In your head, you thank her for telling you to wear a jacket. About twenty minutes later you see her pull up to a street. She gets out of the car without a word and you follow behind. 

The flashing lights of red and blue reflect off the wet cement walls beside you as you walk closer to the crime scene. You glance to your right and see other police officers blocking curious pedestrians from entering to take a peek. Returning your face to the front, you note how dark and cold the atmosphere is. You let out a small smile. 

“Of course… How classic it is for someone to kill someone in this type of weather,” You whisper to yourself. Rio Vidal quickly glances at you with an unreadable look before she walks away. You step under the crime scene tape while holding onto your long jacket. Once away from the larger public view, you can see the scene more clearly. You walk closer til in front of you lay a woman so perfectly in the middle. Almost as if someone placed her there to get attention. Her body is stiff and gray. Her clothes were dirty, but still fully on her. You lean down to stare at her face. Her black hair is neatly brushed and her bangs are tucked behind her ears. You stare at her face and notice a shade of red lipstick on her. Following her features up, you fix your eyes on the dried run-down mascara on her cheeks. With closer inspection, you could tell someone tried cleaning the mascara off. Her dull yet shocked eyes stare behind you. Suddenly a wave of chills runs down your body. You are used to looking at dead bodies due to the number of crime scenes you have investigated, but this one feels different… it’s almost as if someone prepared this like a presentation. You feel a pressure on your hip which causes you to jerk in fright. Rio Vidal has just returned from receiving information from other officers. She has a sick smile on her face, proud that she has successfully frightened you. She returns her slender fingers to her side. She tilts her head to glance at the dead body next to you. You hear her let out a soft hum. You bite your bottom lip, deep in thought. Something about how the dead body is laid out does not feel right. 

“What is it?” She asks. You jerk your face up to see her staring at you. You tilt your head to the side to look at the ground. You feel a gush of wind blow. 

“Doesn’t this case feel a little different to you?” You ask. She turns her body slightly so that her attention can be fully on you. She stares at you with an unexplainable look. You nervously rub your fingers. You have never told her this before, but you look up to her. You feel like you need to impress her. You hope this paranoid mind of yours doesn’t throw her off.

“How so?” She asks. You nick your nail against your skin. You suck in a deep breath. You can feel her waiting for you to explain yourself. You gather your thoughts to make sure you don’t sound too insane. 

“When I looked at the body I couldn’t help but notice that… someone presented her beautifully,” You nervously explain. You gulp at yourself for saying the word beautiful. Why did you credit the murder? You glance up to see her face is emotionless. She probably thinks you’re insane for saying that. 

“W-what I mean is that I noticed her hair was neatly brushed. She also had red lipstick on her. It wasn’t smeared or anything as if the murderer placed it on her after she died. They wanted her to look presentable and that is what I don’t understand,” You finish your thoughts. You blush in embarrassment. You didn’t mean to ramble. You hear her softly giggle and you snap your neck at her. Her brown eyes have a tint of glee. 

“I’m glad you noticed,” She whispers. You blink in confusion. 

“What?” You blurt. She leans back and lets out a throaty chuckle. 

“I noticed it too,” She explains. Your shoulders drop in a sigh. You think you have scored a point on her non-existent board. She gives you a gentle pat on the shoulders. The first time she has ever touched you. She keeps her hand lingering on your shoulder for a little bit before sliding her hand away. 

“Good job analyzing. Keep taking notes. I’ll discuss a few more questions with the police and we’ll discuss them later,” She explains before walking off. You let out a shaky breath. Joy boosts in your veins from receiving a compliment from her. Not wanting to waste more time, you pull out your small notepad and start jotting down notes as ordered. 

-

“Where do you live? We can discuss it there,” Rio Vidal suggests as she starts the engine. She takes out her phone and presses onto the GPS app. You silently type in your address without questioning. She smiles in satisfaction and shifts the gear to drive. You play with your fingers to entertain yourself in the silence. The car ride to your house was faster than you expected. She shuts the engine off and waits for you to make the first move. You unbuckle your seat belt and open the car door to get out. She copies and stares at your house for a moment. Her head tilts a little as she analyzes each detail. You find her staring at your window a little longer. 

“Nice place,” She compliments as she walks towards you. You take out your keys to unlock the front door. You can feel her presence close behind you and you feel goosebumps suddenly rise on your arms. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You lift your arm to your eyes to examine the hairs sticking up. 

“...Are we just going to stand out here?” She speaks up with a dry chuckle. You jerk your arm down with an embarrassing blush appearing on your cheeks. You push the front door open and flick on the light switch. You place your jacket on the coat racket and hurry to clean the living room area. You weren’t expecting guests. She silently watches you gather all the paperwork from multiple cases into a neat pile. You grab the empty water bottles lying around to toss them in the trash. You have been working hard and overtime which results in a lack of self-care. You brush your hair away from your forehead and let out a deep breath. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company,” You shyly apologize. She smiles and slowly nods her head to express that she doesn’t mind. Her curious eyes glance around your house as if she is mentally taking note of everything. She walks over to your single-person couch and plops herself on it. She lets out a throaty sigh and relaxes her body. 

“Want a drink?” You offer. She peers at you beneath her long lashes. She ponders a little, narrowing her eyes in thought. She tilts her head slightly with a small smile. 

“You have beer?” She asks. You walk over to your fridge and pull out two bottles of beer. You hand her one which she happily accepted. You take a seat on your other couch, opposite side of her. Her eyes never leave you as she takes a big swing of the liquid. Her jaw clenches as she shallows. She leans back onto the seat and crosses her legs. You take a small sip and gently place it back onto the table. You pull the notebook out from your pocket. You flip through the pages til you find the most recent one. 

“I found a few more interesting things on the victims' skin-”

“I didn’t come here just to talk about the case,” She cuts you off. Your tongue stops moving as if she had cut it off. You tilt your head in confusion. You want to ask her what else is she here for, but no words come out. She notices your inner struggle and waves the beer bottle. She feels slightly bad.

“But yes, what were you saying?” She averts the topic back on track. She takes another gulp of the beer. You watch a single drop slip from her lips and roll down her throat. You silently dry shallow. She takes the back of her hand to wipe it. She continues to listen to your new findings without disrupting you. You mention how you notice a slight green color around the victim's wrist. By the time you were done speaking, she had finished half the bottle. You place the notebook down and wait for her to speak. She leans forward and rests her elbows on her knee. Her face is stern with deeper meaning. 

“Can I ask you something?” She challenges. 

“Yeah,” You answer almost like a whisper. 

“Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?” She tests. You immediately feel a chill run down your spine. You blink nervously, darting your eyes to the window. Why is she asking this? It makes you scared without reason. 

“What do you mean,” You hesitate. She brings the back of her hand to cover her smile. She lets out a chuckle. She focuses on your eyes and notices a hint of fear. She fake coughs as she brushes her pants. She gets up from the couch and turns to head to the door. You quickly get up to follow her, anxiously looking over your shoulder. She catches you in the act and couldn’t help but laugh again. She brings her fingers to touch the tips of your hair. She twirls the strand between the thumb and pointer finger. 

“You’ll begin understanding what the victims truly feel,” She explains. She lets go of your hair and opens the door herself. She doesn’t turn to face you as she waves goodbye. 

“Lock your doors,” She chirps. You watch her spin her keychains around her finger. She enters her car and you watch til she is down the street. You slam the door shut and immediately lock the door. You place your palm against the door and take a deep breath. Now that she is gone, your house is more eerie and quiet. You shake the chills from your body and turn around. You pick up the glass bottles and notice her red lipstick mark on the rim. You lift the rim closer to your eyes to examine it. Matte red. You let out a small smile as you thought about how well the color matched her. Your smile starts to drop when you remember what she said. ‘Do you ever feel like you’re being watched?’ her voice replayed in your mind. You try to understand the deeper meaning. You assume that she was talking about tactics. You’ve heard multiple times that a good detective understands the mindset of the murderer or victim. 

-

It’s the next day and you walk into the kitchen to grab a water bottle. As you tilt your head back to drink, you feel a dark presence behind you. It feels like it’s breathing down your neck. You jerk your head behind only to see nothing. You place the bottle down and move your hand to your forehead. 

“I must be paranoid,” You sigh to yourself. As you lift the bottle to your lips again you hear a slight creek. You pause and the creek happens again. It sounds like a footstep. Fear and anxiety buzz in your mind. Your blood begins to pump too loud. You quietly reach over to grab a knife. You grip the handle. With alert eyes and adrenaline, you take a step towards the sound. You inspect the area but find nothing suspicious. You lower the knife. You tilt your head in confusion. You could’ve sworn you heard someone or something here. You turn your body and collide into something. The impact caused the knife to slip from your hands and clatter onto the ground. You let out a scream and nearly fall. Rio Vidal smiles brightly from seeing your reaction. Her hair is fully down and longer than you expected. She wears a normal black sweater. You hold yourself onto the wall and place a hand on your heart. 

“Rio!? What- how did you get in here?!” You gasp, heart still pounding. She jerks her head towards the door and shrugs. 

“Doors unlock,” She casually states. You turn your head to the lock to confirm it was unlocked. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. You remembered you locked the doors last night… how did it…

“I just wanted to come by and say hi. I missed you,” She teases. There was no hint of truth in her statement. You gently laugh in disbelief. She takes out a note from her pocket and hands it over to you. 

“I did some digging last night. This autopsy case number from a few months ago is similar to the body yesterday. Look into it,” She explains. You examine the neatly written number on the note. 

“…Okay thank you,” You respond. She smiles and nods her head. She doesn’t waste another second. 

“I’ll see you soon,” She turns her body and waves her hands without looking back again. She stops at the door and a smirk appears on her lips. 

“Next time you should actually use the knife,” She chuckles. You hear the door close beside you. You stare at the knife lying on the ground. You feel embarrassed at how helpless you quickly became. If it were someone else you would’ve been done for. 

-

It’s later in the night and the moon shines brightly in the sky. You sit on the couch with the laptop on the coffee table. You type the case number onto the database and watch the screen load up the autopsy. You let out a small gasp. The pictures of the body closely resembled the one yesterday. Freshly red lipstick and combed hair. Your eyes notice something around the victim's wrist. You zoom the picture closer. The wrist has a slight green mark. 

You hear the floors creak again, but this time it’s above you. Your eyes dart from the screen into the dark space. The creaking continues in small time measures. You lower the laptop screen when you realize someone is upstairs. You quickly get up and rush into the kitchen to grab a knife. You grip the handle more firmly, not letting it drop this time. You quietly reach the staircase. With each step, your heart thumps louder. You finally make it closer to the sound. The soft shuffle sounds are coming from your room. Your hand reaches the handle, but you pause. You take a deep breath and silently pray. 

You shove the doors open and the figure inside your room freezes in shock. Your eyes widen at the body. You can tell it’s a woman, judging by the curves exposed by the tight black shirt and pants. Her hair is dark and long. You could not tell who it was because she had a mask that only exposed her eyes. The woman lunges towards you. You try swinging your knife, but she grabs your wrist and pins you against the hallway wall. She tilts her head to examine you. Her dark cold eyes piercing yours. You struggled against her, trying to push against her strength, but it was no use. You jerk your head forward to head bump her. She grunts in pain and lets go of your wrist to hold her forehead. You give her stomach a strong kick. She lets out a sharp yelp and falls. You rush to escape, but she clings onto your ankle making you trip and fall. The knife falls out of your grip and clatters onto the ground. You try crawling your way to the knife, but the woman has already run to grab it. You lay helplessly, staring up at her. She walks over til she is above you. She kneels her thighs around your stomach.  She lets out a teasing laugh before she tries jabbing the knife into your neck. You quickly grab onto the sharp blade and wince in pain. Your blood starts pooling at the tip of the knife. It drips onto your face. 

“Have you ever felt this pain?” She purrs. You grunt as she presses the edge deeper. She leans in to observe you. She watches how your jaws clench tightly. A few whimpers would escape your mouth. Your eyes begin to form tears. 

“It kinda tickles doesn’t it?” She giggles. You feel your stomach turn at her taunts. You let go of the knife and clench your hands around her throat. She lets out an airy gasp. She wraps her fingers around your wrist and stares into your eyes. Her eyes seem to sparkle with delight. Strangely, she isn’t trying to pull your hands away. She hums and buckles her hips slightly against you. With a quick move, you pull the mask down to reveal the woman’s face. Your eyes widen and you feel your blood run cold. 

Rio Vidal. 

She smiles brightly with her teeth showing. You couldn’t believe it was her. Your grip around her neck loosens. She swiftly takes your wrist in one hand and pins it above your head. She places the tip of the knife against the skin of your collar. 

“Why are you doing this?” You gasp. She shakes her head revealing she won’t tell. The tip of the knife digs deeper into your skin. You feel a heavy drip of blood run down your chest. She lets out a low chuckle. She leans her head towards you and you shut your eyes in fear. Suddenly you feel a warm wet muscle touch your skin. She drags her tongue from the top of your chest to the cut. Your blood is evident on her tongue. She softly moans and you feel your stomach flutter. She feels your body struggle beneath her. She gently takes your cut palm to her lips. You try jerking your hands away, but she tightens the grip. 

“Stop squirming. Let me heal you,” She whispers. Something in her tone is lance with concern. You listen to her and halt your movement. She sticks out her tongue and slowly tails her warm tip along the deep cut. Your face scrunches in pain and your thighs clench in arousal. Her gaze never leaves your eyes. Your cheeks turn red as you watch her. She let go of your hands and you immediately went to look at it. The cut was healed. You could only see the mix of your blood and her saliva glistening against your skin. You’re in disbelief.

“H-How?” You breathe out. She licks her lips slowly as if she didn’t want to waste a single drop. Her fingernails find themselves scratching your jaw slightly. 

“Are you going to run?” She asks. You immediately shake your head no, but in your head, you plan to use this as an escape. She gently taps your cheeks and smiles. 

“Good,” She purrs. She gets up from your stomach and checks her body for bruises. She lifts her shirt to inspect her stomach. You had kicked her hard earlier. While she is distracted, you quickly run into your room. You rush to your nightstand and open the drawer that has your officer pistol. Your heart sinks. It’s not there. 

“Looking for this?” She chirps as she playfully shakes the pistol in the air. Her other hand rubs her stomach to ease the bruising pain. You put your shaking hands up as surrender. You thought she was going to shoot you, but she ended up sliding the gun down the long hallway. She has a different idea. You try to dart past her, but she grabs your waist and shoves you onto the bed. You cry out in frustration and try clawing at her back. She pins you down but you keep thrashing your body. Your thighs grind against her and she bites her lip. 

“You lied,” She hisses. She grabs your face harshly, no longer gentle. She forces you to keep still. Your tears roll down your cheeks. She uses her thumb to rub it. 

“Let me go,” You beg. 

“Not when you look this good,” She smirks. She pauses to stare at your pitiful crying face. She seems to be in awe. She finds herself leaning down to kiss your wet cheeks. Slowly, she kisses her way to your lips. Her lips are soft and needy. Your heart hammers loudly against your chest. You want to push her away, but her lips cloud your mind. She pulls away to test you. To see if you would shove her away. Her heart skips a beat when she finds you submissively lying still. Your eyes glare back at her, but she knows better. She returns her lips to yours and moves it slowly. You hear her let out a low moan. Her tongue rubs against your lower lip and you clench your thighs. You refuse to kiss her back.

“I know you want to,” She whispers in between kisses. Her thumb continues to gently rub your cheeks. She lets out another soft hum. You open your mouth to speak and she quickly slips her tongue in. 

“I- I hate you,” You grunt. Your toes curl each time her tongue brushes in. She ignores you and continues kissing. You shut your eyes tightly. Her slow harsh moving lips turns you on more than you expected. 

“Kiss me,” She begs. The pleading sound coming from her switches something in your head. You kiss her back. Your wet lips slide easily against hers. She lets out a dirty chuckle. 

“Mm there you go,” She breathes. She slides her hands down your shirt til she reaches the edge. Her fingers sneak up to grope your chest. She grips harshly like a touch-starve woman. You let out a small grunt and arch your body against her. She pinches your nub hard. You accidentally bite onto her lips in reaction. She moans and buckles her core against you. She pulls away from the kiss and rubs your swollen lips with her fingers. 

“Let me eat you,” She expresses. You blush and turn your head to the side to avoid her stare. Her other hand finds the loop of your pants. She gives it a small tug as she leans her mouth to your ears. She breathes and licks the shell of your ears. You twitch under her touch. 

“I want to taste you,” She sighs. She moves your head to face her. She sticks out her long tongue and flicks up. 

“You’re so perverted,” You blush. She chuckles and attempts to tug your pants down. From the position you lay, it makes it hard for her to pull it. Your hands reach down to unbutton and zip down. Her hungry eyes watch your fingers move fast. You lift yourself slightly to pull your pants along with your panties down. It drops at the edge of your bed. She runs her nails along your lower stomach with a cocky smile. You feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. She begins lowering herself between your legs. She spreads your thighs apart and lets out a dirty gasp. She glances up at you between her lashes. She drags her finger along your slit and you jerk your legs together when she gets close to the clit. She clicks her tongue in disapproval and forces your legs apart which causes you to grunt. Without warning she drags her tongue along your dripping cunt. She closes her eyes to process how you taste. She lets out a hum of approval. She continues to give you short and small licks. She would sometimes lick your clit, but not enough to satisfy you. You push your head against the pillow, feeling impatient. You bring one hand down to touch the top of her messy dark head. Your fingers grip onto her hair and you shamelessly shove her deeper into your cunt. She grinds her fingers into your thighs. 

“Fucken hurry,” You cuss out. She smiles happily at your aggressiveness. You chase your core against her tongue to please yourself. She allows you to take control, even if your grip on her hair starts to hurt. 

“Feels good doesn't it?” She smirks. You bite your lips and nod your head. Your shirt starts to feel stuffy because of how hot you’re becoming. She pushes her hand against your thighs to spread yourself wider. She starts to lick harshly and sucks your clit. You suck in a sharp moan. Your wetness mixes in with her saliva. Her strong tongue doesn't stop flicking against your clit. You gasp and roll your eyes in pleasure. You feel your lower stomach beginning to build up for an orgasm. Your leg twitches each time she decides to suck. 

“You’re so good,” You praise. She smiles and runs her tongue against your slit again. Your hands gripping her head start to loosen. She glances up to see you enjoying yourself. Your other hand is busy groping your chest. She gives your clit a strong suck. This causes you to let out a loud moan and grip her head harder. She repeats the act and watches how your body arches up. Your other hand reaches down to join the other. You roll your cunt against her mouth while clenching both hands on her head. More cusses and moans spill from your lips. She can tell you are nearly close to reaching your high. Your body begins to shake so much that she has to push your thighs down. 

“I’m close,” You gasps. She closes her eyes to focus on licking and sucking your clit. With a few more movements from her tongue, you reach your orgasm with an embarrassingly loud cry. Your body twitches and you gasp for air. You pat her head to signal her to stop, but she ignores it and continues sucking. 

“W-wait!” You moan, feeling overstimulated. You let go of her hair to clench onto the bedsheets. She brings her fingers to your core and plunges in her middle finger. The finger easily slides in and out with your silky juice. You let out a whine. She lifts her mouth from your core. You see her lips glistening. 

“Give me another one,” She demands. You shake your sweaty head, chest moving up and down. You can feel tears building up and she smiles. Just what she wanted. She adds another finger into your core. You tilt your head back against the pillow to cry out. The stretch of her fingers feels so good. 

“I want to see you cry,” She darkly chuckles. She feels your warm hole welcome her fingers in so well. She decides to curl her fingers to press into your gummy walls. You moan loudly and feel tears running down your cheeks. She returns her tongue to your clit and sucks. As her fingers continue to abuse your walls, her mouth sucks. You are panting and moaning. You don’t even understand what is coming out of your mouth. Your orgasm is coming faster than the previous one. Your body jerks feverishly. Your hair sticks against your sweaty forehead and neck. Her long fingers increase in speed. She doesn’t care how hard she is going in you. You feel yourself let out a loud squeal as you reach another high. She feels wetness run down her knuckles and she finally slows down her fingers and tongue. She slips her fingers out and watches you catch your breath. She wipes her wet mouth with the back of her hands. She leans foreward to kiss you a kiss on the cheek. 

“My heart beats for you,” She whispers at your state of vulnerability. You gaze at her with tired eyes. She watches you with curiosity as you take her wet fingers to your mouth. You lick along her palm to her long fingers that were in you. Her mouth slightly opens as she gasps. Her eyes darken in pleasure and she simply smiles. Your eyes notice an unusual green color on your wrist.

[melodygatesauthor]

I'm so excited for this! Really hoping I find the time to participate!!

Yayy!!!

Banner by @winniethewife

Oscar Issac/Pedro Pascal Fan Art and Fiction Pride Event 2024

Hello friends!

Let's try this again and I'll try to be more clear to not invoke discourse. That being said, it is *my* event and if you'd like to run one a certain way, go nuts. However, this is how I'm doing it.

I had a lot of fun doing Dead Dove December and the Triple Frontier Anniversary Event so I decided I wanted to do an event for pride this year! I know it seems far away right now, especially given how many of us in north America are still cold af, but I wanna give everyone time!

Each week of pride will have a theme to write or draw for (you don't have to do all of them! Think of it like kinktober.) at the end, I will put out a masterlist (or multiple depending how many)so we can all share each other's work.

Why?

Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal are both allies to LGBT people, Pedro having played multiple queer rolls and having likened his sexuality to that of Prince Oberyn. Despite none of the characters being canon queer, Triple Frontier specifically lends itself to queer stories. Recently, theres been a rise in stories of Oscar characters in relationships or Pedro characters in relationships which I love.

What I'd really like to do is encourage people to think past x fem!reader or canon presentation of characters. I want to encourage gay, lesbian, bisexual relationships, trans readers, trans interpretations of characters etc. More content guidelines will be in the what section.

Where?

Primarily tumblr.com, our very own shithole hellsight. However, especially given tumblr's censorship vs. twitter, I am encouraging posting on twitter or wherever you'd like. If you post something elsewhere, send me a link or send me a post you made about it on tumblr and I'll promote the link.

Additionally if you only write on ao3, I'd love for you to participate too! Once again, just send the link!

When?

in order to do the week by week themes and hold all of June, there will be 6 weeks from May 26th-July 6th

Each week will have themes. I won't be policing the weeks and these so if you do the 1st week on july 3rd, that's fine. The themes are keeping in mind both artists and writers. I only got one artist for DDD, a great piece and I've love to see more! Ideas are just for spit balling, do your own take!

May 26th-June 1st: Coming out. Ideas: Coming out to family, lover, friend. Finding gender affirming clothes/hair, first pride

June 2nd-8th: Transitioning Ideas: Surgary, surgery scars, starting T or E, binding (safely!!!)

June 9th-15th: Sex/kissing First time together, first time with certain biology or the same sex, sweet kisses, smut showing scars,

June 16th-22nd: Food, fashion, fun

All things queer culture and culture of different religions, racial or country backgrounds, queer fashion, gender affirming clothes, Keshet (קשת), listening to Lady Gaga or Bruce Springsteen, watching a queer movie

June 23rd-29th: Struggles Rejection, reconciling faith and identity, missing family that rejected one, comfort, candlelight vigil, day of remembrance.

June 30th- July 6th:Strength Asserting ones or a partner/friend/family's pronouns, standing up against hate, being loudly and proudly yourself, pride events

Who?

Writers and artists in any form are welcome. I also want to encourage working with each other, writers and artists together!

For characters: Any Oscar Isaac or Pedro Pascal character has to at least be in the relationship. Other characters in universes can be done, such as FishBen.

Reader can be anyone, just properly tag! If you want to come out to Marc Spector as bisexual, do it!!! If you want Joel to take care of you after top surgery, do it!

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE QUEER TO PARTICIPATE!

However! Please do your research if writing or drawing an identity not yours. There are trans, nonbinary, gay, lebian etc bloggers all over tumblr who write about their experience, please divert to first person testimonies rather than assumptions.

What?

A few rules

MUST contain more than male character x fem!reader. Male character x fem!reader x male character does not count unless the two male characters are romantically or sexually involved or one or the reader is trans. Any Q's, dm me!

This is not a dark event. I'm not going to be policing the content matter but I really want to primarily focus on the pride. However, as a bisexual, gender non-conforming person I know a lot of pain can still be involved. What we are not doing is suicide, death, self-harm, or non consensual activity. If you have questions or would like to make a case for something, just dm me!

This is not inherently NSFW, but there is absolutely NSFW allowed. Always tag everything properly.

The usual no's like bestiality, incest, underage nsfw etc

As far as minor characters, SFW MINOR CHARACTERS IS ALLOWED. You can write or draw lgbt themes because being LGBT is not inherently sexual. For example, teenage Santi coming out as trans to Frankie or your own version of Ellie and Joel's talk about Ellie and Dina kiss. That being said, I'd prefer to reserve this to teens. Again, any questions or ideas that don' quite fit into parameters, just ask!

As always, I am allowed to use my discretion. If I do not want to include something, I won't. However, I know that there are rifts in the fandom. I won't be excluding you out of personal bias. As long as I don't have you blocked and you haven't plagerized or done something really bad to people, you'll be included. I'm not letting petty beefs get in the way. Harmful actions will, however. I need to protect my peace and keep

NO REAL PERSON FANFICTION. Do not write about Oscar Isaac or Pedro pascal being gay or trans and do not make any assumptions about their sexuality or gender identity. Oscar is happily married to a woman and Pedro has expressed his sexuality is like that of Oberyn Martell but has not elaborated much further, nor should he have to. Just leave ‘em be. You can speculate elsewhere but that’s not what this event is for.

How?

Simply tag me, @romanarose and use the #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024 please please please use BOTH so it's easier for me to find!!!

When the event is over, much like DDD I will compiled them into a masterlist and posted. This is a chance for every blog, big and small, to get a moment in the sun and to share each others works! Remember, reblogging, comments, and interacting is what makes this a community! I want to create an environment that is welcoming and we all help each other.

Please feel free to reach out to me for any questions or clarification!

However, if you go issues with me writing men kissing, chracters being trans, queer readers etc, I'm not really open to debate.

~A nonbinary bisexual <3

[themidnightcrimson]

nosferatu ࿏ wm

summary: in which you are much too trusting of a creature who wants more than a dance with you.

words: 6.0k

warnings: blood, supernatural, horror, gore, dubcon/noncon, top!wanda, fem!reader, biting, oral, breastplay, bondage, victorian era

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

Your corset was so tight around your waist that you could not breathe. It was a sickening shade of pink that was supposed to portray girlish innocence about you. It was made specifically to match the color that imbues your cheeks, though now it was more of a sharp crimson red.

“I cannot believe your impudence,” your mother breathily spoke in a vexed air as she stiffly ripped the white gloves from her hands. “Your audacity.”

Rolling your eyes, you threw your head back against the wall of the compartment, feeling the familiar but nauseating shake of the carriage, the click-clack of the horse’s hooves going as fast as your heartbeat. Biting your lip to ward off any retaliating remarks towards your mother, you reached behind your waist and fiddled for the bow of your corset, snapping the ribbon undone and inhaling the first large breath of fresh air since the night began.

“At this rate, you’ll never be wed,” your mother continued to grumble as she neatly folded her gloves in her lap and looked out the window of the compartment door, the tree-lined field flickering past her eyes as the carriage moved on down the sandy country road. “I wouldn’t know what gentleman in all of England would wed such a usurping, galling, exasperating little—”

“Please, Mother, I haven’t had my vocabulary lesson yet this week,” you sarcastically battled as you ripped the matching pink ribbon out of your hair, letting your long waves flow down your shoulders. Your mother especially hated when you wore your hair freely down like that, citing that it reminded her of the harlots of Dorset Street.

You had to admit that your behavior was not the most ladylike this evening, but that was your entire mission. Your mother had been trying to marry you off to every man that comes across your path since you were of age. What she didn’t know (or rather was entirely aware of but simply unable to comprehend or acknowledge it under both societal implications and her own personal dogmas) was that you actually preferred the company of women.

It was just another fancy political ball she’d dragged you to. As always, she put you in clothes you didn’t want to wear, made you speak to people you didn’t want to speak to, and expected you to take it all with sugar and a big smile.

“Is this how you behave at those other parties you attend? Those invalids might be able to handle your inexcusable behavior, but I certainly won’t.”

It wasn’t that you didn’t like parties at all. You actually very much enjoyed going to the parties you liked to go to with people you actually liked to be around. Could these parties become a little unsavory if warranted? Yes, they could. But you yourself never participated in those things. You just thought the people there were nicer and didn’t have giant sticks shoved up their bums. Plus, the food was always better.

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, young lady, but there will be no more attending these parties of yours.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed, looking at her with eyes of disbelief. “I am a grown woman. I will go wherever I please!”

“Not with what’s been happening,” she argued, glancing at the folded newspaper sitting on the cushion beside her that she had picked up on the way to the ball. The Old Post. The front of it read Vampyres in the Village.

“You can’t be serious,” you grumbled, turning away from her with a pout. “You really believe in that stuff?”

“It’s devil-work, dear,” she said in a quieter, more serious tone. She stared at you for a moment from across the compartment before slowly leaning forward. “I’m not saying this to try and… control you. I’m saying this to you because… because you are my daughter, and I want to keep you safe.”

You could tell she was biting back vomit at saying kind words to you. “And things have been… happening in the city. Horrible things. And it seems to be happening only to people like you. Pretty, single, young girls. But most importantly, naïve girls.”

You rolled your eyes and turned further away from her. “You say my head is full of air, but I’m not the one who believes in fairytales here.”

“Miss Margaret’s daughter is still missing.”

Miss Margaret was a close friend of your mother’s, which you found surprising because Miss Margaret was one of the kindest women you’d ever met. Her daughter was your age, maybe a year or two older. She hadn’t been seen for two months now since she attended one of the parties you liked to go to in the city.

“She probably ran off with a boy,” you argued even though you knew that was not her daughter’s character.

Your mother didn’t even bother to argue that because you already knew. She only shook her head and turned back to the window, taking a deep sigh. “I’m only trying to keep you safe. It’s one thing to have an unwed daughter, but it’s entirely another thing to have one that’s dead.”

“I’m sure that’s what you’d prefer.”

You shouldn’t have said that, and you didn’t even need to look in your mother’s general direction to feel the look of shocked hurt on her face.

Maybe if your mother hadn’t fought tooth and nail to keep a noose around your neck your whole life, you might have listened. You might have heeded her advice.

Things might not have ended up the way they did.

If only.

࿏

You knew exactly how to scale your own house by now. Granted, you had to be barefoot while you did it.

Clutching your shoes in one hand, you teetered on the edge of the windowsill of your room, carefully stepping down on the ledge of the roof. From there, you could set your foot on the top sill of another window, and then catch the vine-wrapped lattice going up the side of your parent’s estate, and it was a breeze from there on. You always enjoyed this feeling. The chilly autumn night air breezing between your legs as you wore a more casual dress that did not require a skeleton of its own. The wind fluttering through your loose locks of hair. The light of the full moon above you guiding your way down. Feeling agile and smart, free and unfiltered. Sometimes, your favorite part of these nights was just the sneaking out.

You always enjoyed the feeling of the dewy grass on the bottom of your feet when you finally hopped down to the ground. You’d jog like this, barefoot and wild like some kind of heathen, all the way down your country driveway to the main road where your friends had a carriage waiting for you.

When you said these parties could be a little unsavory, you meant it. While you mostly stuck with your friends and did not participate in these acts, all around you people were doing all kinds of unknown drugs, being lude with each other, engaging in certain dares or pranks. Sometimes there was a theme to all this, and tonight happened to be a masquerade, except instead of socialites and rich people, it was the ones of society who yearned a more stained quality of life.

This party was especially sex-driven, you realized with an air of shock as you walked in behind your group of friends. They were handing out masks at the front, and beyond that, you could see people basically eating each other at every sitting area in the large auditorium. Someone was throwing this at a large estate where everything around you seemed to be made of gold.

See, there were a select few rich people that participated in and most importantly, funded and housed these parties. There was a group of people, higher on the social ladder, who liked to throw these unsavory parties sometimes in their own homes. You could tell that this party was definitely one of them. They always seemed to get much more extreme when one of these people hosted it in their own home. The odd thing about it was that no one really knew who they were other than that they were seemingly nocturnal and rather pale, possibly as a consequence. Nightcrawlers, they sometimes called them. They always infested the local bars in the later hours of the evenings.

“My Lord,” your friend whispered under her breath as she eyed the couples (sometimes multiple couples all in one cluster) all around. “I think I’ve seen three bare buttocks already.”

Uneasiness settled into your stomach. While you normally enjoyed these parties, you usually tried to stay away from the ones that appeared to have a more carnal purpose, mostly because you did not want to have to fight off random men under the impression that you wanted to be a part of it. To your surprise, though, you actually saw a few women together, and a few men together also.

A mask was flung in your direction, and you took it. It was black and gold with a sharp nose, covering the top half of your face and leaving your mouth exposed. Trying to clear your vision as you stared out of the eye holes, you followed your group of friends into the party. It became denser the further they led you into it, and soon you could feel bodies touching yours.

“Wait!” you called when your mask slipped and covered your eyes, blinding you in the thickly packed room. You stumbled over someone’s foot as you tried to adjust your mask, and by the time you finally corrected it over your eyes, you could not locate your friends. Starting to panic as you were packed in a sea of people, feeling eyes behind odd foreign masks staring you down, you looked around for your friends, frantically calling their names.

You were turning in circles, growing dizzier and fainter by the second. This was a horrible idea. You should have listened to your instinct and turned around as soon as you walked in and saw what was going on at the party. Even now, in the crowd of people dancing to the oddly calm music that did not match the strong energy of the dancers, you could hear faint moans and the vague smell of sex drifting in the air.

You were about to melt to the floor and curl yourself into a sobbing ball when suddenly you felt a purposeful hand press into the small of your back. Gasping, you turned sharply, ready to slap the man who dared think he had a right to touch you, when you were faced with something unexpected.

The only thing you saw that was expected was pants—a men’s dark red velvet suit, decorated with lacy white wristcuffs and a rather poofy white chestpiece beautifully ruffled. But instead of seeing broad shoulders, you saw softer ones, and a curve at the chest and hips. This person wasn’t as tall as you expected, though they were several inches taller than you. Instead of a cropped cut, or perhaps a shaggier cut with handsome curls around the ears, this person had long, silky, wavy red hair that went down to their chest, flowing like a beautiful lake of deep rust.

A pitch-black mask covered the top half of their face, but instead of whiskers, or a beard, there was smooth, pale skin and delicately soft pink lips. The jaw there was strong, but there was a feminine curve to it.

A woman. This was a woman who was now curling your hand around the small of your waist, somehow enveloping it completely around you, pulling you against her and taking your hand in her other hand.

Gasping, you stumbled as she strongly started pulling you into a gentle dance through the crowd that seemed to make way for her.

You struggled to see her face, as the mask covered the top half. Those deep pink lips curled into a cupid’s smirk that brought some sort of chill up your spine. Even in this crowded room, with all the unpleasant noises and smells, your entire focus was on this woman pulling you to her breast and holding you with an iron strength that shocked you.

Though her mask, like the others, had carved holes for eyes, the lighting cast a shadow over the material that kept her eyes from view, and it was rather dim in the room anyway.

You opened your mouth to speak but failed to find words as the redheaded woman in a man’s suit spun you in a circle, and as she did, the source of light from a chandelier above finally glared through the holes of the mask, and you jolted in shock when you saw a flash of red eyes behind the mask.

Instinctively, you tried to pull away, but her arm would not budge. Had you ever known a man to be this strong, let alone a woman?

“Who are you?” you asked, but it came out in a tiny, hoarse whisper that surely only you could hear. Somehow, she heard it.

“Your dream woman,” she smoothly husked with an impish smirk, and you saw another flicker of red in the eyes of the mask as she spun you again before it went dark again.

Sewing your eyebrows together, you stumbled to keep up as she spun you. “Why won’t you let me go?”

“Because it’s so much more fun when I don’t,” she said with a small chuckle. You noticed that her hand holding yours was ice cold. “Besides, you looked a little lost back there.”

“I was perfectly fine,” you argued, finding it incredibly rude that this woman would not let you go, though being so close to her was making your spine tingle with something that bordered attraction and the urge to run for your life.

“You were far from fine, though you sure look fine,” she said, and you noticed how nice her voice was, such a pleasant cadence, like honey to your ears. Suddenly her arm around your waist disappeared, and she was spinning you around. Losing your balance, you let out a gasp, feeling yourself about to fall until she spun you back into her, wrapping her arms around you and leaning you backwards in her strong hold.

She grinned down at you, and you almost didn’t notice.

“What—” you said, startled. Her teeth, ivory white, were sharp. Like, as sharp as your father’s hunting knives. Glistening even in the dim light. Some unsatisfactory stain of red between them that made your stomach uneasy. It was strange, to see such a pleasant pair of lips stretched around teeth that looked so deadly.

“You’re beautiful,” the woman whispered, her eyes lowering down your neck and to your chest left exposed by your dress. You’d picked this dress because your mother hated how particularly revealing it was.

You saw the flash of scarlet irises again through her mask. They seemed to glow as she drank you in with her eyes.

“You can’t even see my face,” you whispered with a tone of playfulness at the fact that the woman was obviously staring at your chest with a look of hunger that you could see even through her mask.

Glancing back up to your face, she smiled handsomely and reached towards your face. Your instinct was to push her hand away, berate her for daring to take off your mask without asking, but for some reason your body did not budge. You involuntarily let her remove your mask, her eyes drinking you in.

“I didn’t have to take it off to know that you are the most beautiful woman in the room,” she flirted shamelessly, her hand on your back gripping you. She was still holding you in a leaning position.

Deciding to have fun with this odd woman, you smirked and said, “Your turn. Remove yours so that I may see who is holding me so.”

The woman hesitated but smiled again, reaching up and slowly removing her mask.

She was beautiful—like the kind of beautiful you had never seen before. An alien, strange beautiful that did not feel real. Something churned in your gut, some kind of knowing, a fear, but it was muffled. Her red eyes, her sharp smile, it was suffocating down the instinct in you that was telling you to get away from her as fast as possible.

She cocked her head, her eyes never leaving yours. “Come with me,” she spoke, and it sounded like many voices at once. Her grip on you was hard now, and if she hadn’t been compelling you with her magic, you would have seen the bloodlusting look on her face.

You didn’t remember leaving the party. You also suddenly couldn’t even remember arriving at the party. All you knew was that suddenly you could hear the click-clack of hooves against cobblestone and the cold night air blowing through your hair, and something else in your hair, too.

You sharply turned your head to see the same redheaded woman walking next to you, her hand in your hair, stroking it softly, playing with the strands between her long-nailed fingers.

“Where are we?” you questioned, slowing your walk and looking all around you. You did not recognize this street at all.

“We’re on a walk, my love,” the woman cooed, cradling her arm around you and pulling you into her. “You were becoming faint at the party.”

Your head felt fuzzy. Muddled. Like you needed to remember something that you just couldn’t remember, but you knew you desperately needed to.

“I’m… I’m confused…” you cried, clutching your hands to your face. You wanted to ask her where she was taking you, what she was going to do to you, why her teeth were so sharp and her eyes so red, but something was stopping the words from coming out of your mouth and even stopping these anxious feelings from being realized by you. There was a false blanket of calmness over you that was not coming from within you. It was suffocating you.

“Do calm down, beautiful girl,” she said in a velvet tone in your ear, suddenly very close to you. The moonlight rained down over you as she pressed her lips to your ear in a soft kiss. Something hard grazed the skin there, but it wasn’t enough for you to really notice.

The street was nearly empty. There were a few shops that were all closed down at this time of night. As you passed one that had a string of garlic hanging down over the door, which a lot of shops had now with all the rumors flying around, you felt the redhead stiffen beside you. When you were far enough away, she let out a breath as if she had been holding it.

Stupified, you hadn’t noticed this.

You also didn’t notice the way she walked faster, goading you forward with a hand at your back, as you passed by a church with a large cross on its steeple. The church also had garlic over the door, and had even built a fence of sharp whittled stakes all around the front. This city was so paranoid.

“Where are we going?” you question, noticing finally that the more garlic-protected doors you passed, the more the false sense of security lifted from you. Unbeknownst to you, the protections were interfering with the woman’s magic on you. “Where are you taking me?!”

“Be quiet!” she hissed at you suddenly, her red eyes fiery in the dark night. She looked monstrous now, albeit beautiful, and you finally realized the fear inside you.

“Get away!” you yelled, slapping her hand away from your waist and stepping away from her. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you!” You glanced around to see if anyone was around, but there was no one.

“Don’t yell!” the woman said louder this time, and her teeth started to look even sharper than before.

Finally, with all the garlic and crosses and stakes preventing her from being able to stop you from thinking your own thoughts, you could hear the instinct, loud and clear within you, telling you to run from this woman, this witch, this monster, this…

Vampire.

You ran as fast as you could on the uneven cobblestone. You were a very agile girl, thanks to so many times sneaking out of the window and running away. You always impressed people with how fast you could run, and you knew you could definitely outrun a woman in a stiff suit.

Until she appeared right in front of you with lightning speed. You didn’t even have time to be shocked. Her hand passed over your eyes, and you were asleep, falling limply into her arms like dead prey.

The last thing you thought of was if your mother had noticed you were gone yet or not.

࿏

You could tell it was dark before you even opened your eyes. When you did manage to finally flutter your eyes open, the first thing you saw was candlelight. A dark room with red carpet and black walls. Candles, everywhere. Some semblance of a bed that you lay on, naked. Something wooden in front of the bed on the floor which you realize to your sleepy horror is a coffin. And worst of all, to your upmost terror, standing to the side of the bed you lay on staring at you with a vile look of hunger, the redheaded woman.

She was holding a glass in her hand that held what appeared to be red wine, but it was way too dark. As the last memories flood back into your mind as she takes a slow, sickly sip, you realize that it is not wine in her glass.

“I know you’ll be much sweeter than this,” she thickly says after swallowing, lowering the glass and grinning at you with reddened teeth. “I could smell your blood as soon as you walked in.”

You attempt to sit up but there was an invisible force keeping you pressed flat on the bed. “Please let me go,” you whisper, your eyes welling with tears. You can’t exactly feel the fear inside you, not with whatever magic this vampire was putting inside you, but your body felt it and informed you of it in the form of hot tears rolling down your cheeks in an emotionless cry.

She laughed and started towards the bed, the movement causing you to jump. She set the glass down on the table beside the bed, eyes flickering at you as she slowly leaned over you, the weight of her hand on your pillow tipping your head closer to her. She was so close now. Deep scarlet eyes, pointed teeth, locks of her rust hair grazing your bare chest and tickling your nipples which you realized now were erected. Her breath smelled of iron, of old iron that had been sitting out in the rain. It smelled of flesh and of blood casting over your face for how close she was to you.

“Don’t be so frightened,” the vampire cooed, reaching her hand under you. You gasped at her cool touch, her oddly delicate and soft hand which glided across your back which arched for its way, coming to the other side of your waist and holding it gently so that her arm was completely curled under you. She had you trapped now, hovering over you, holding you. There was a crazed look in her eye now as her skin touched yours, as she smelled your scent and felt your warm flesh in her hand and listened to your heart beating so fervently, so frightened.

“You will enjoy this, love,” she continued, her nails digging slightly into your side as she lowered herself down further on the bed. She parted your legs with her knee, and it made you gasp in shock as she slid her other knee between them also, forcing your legs to spread. You felt the cool air of exposure in your middle, feeling now the strings of wet between your folds. She could smell it, you knew, by the way her nostrils flared and her beautiful lips twisted into a knowing smirk. This woman was an animal, a beast with senses that far outpowered yours. She could smell and hear and feel and see everything, down to the hairs on your arms that stood on their ends.

Were you enjoying it already? Why was your skin basically vibrating as she laid herself over you? Why were you slick as if you were with a lover? Why was your back and hips arching towards her hungrily as if you were the one thirsting for her and not the other way around?

Was she persuading you? You had heard of these vampyres being skilled in the art of witchery, particularly in the use of persuasion. It was heard of vampyres luring their victims to them willingly, as if the humans were offering themselves to them. Was that how she got you outside of the party in the first place?

You could feel the radiation of her powers vibrating through you, her red eyes seeming to glow in the dark room. “Oh, darling,” she whispered, bringing her hand up to your face and caressing your cheek. Your cheek was burning hot against her cold hand, which only invigorated her more.

“Your body is so warm against mine…” she murmured, her eyes trailing down your body to your bare chest. Lowering herself, she moved her head towards your neck area.

“No!” you instantly screamed, jerking your body against her as her face disappeared below your face. She dug her nails hard into your side, causing you to squeak, and then her mouth was on your neck. “Please! Stop! Don’t!”

You writhed and shrieked until you realized that you felt no intrusion of teeth into your veins but rather just a forceful yet gentle kiss of heavenly lips on your neck. The vampire’s breathing was heavy and thick, blowing hard against your skin as her entire body went rigid over yours like a predator. Her hips were the only thing that trembled, pressing hard between your legs.

“Fuck,” you heard the vampire curse into your neck as she pressed more kisses, letting her body push harder into yours. She was salivating, leaving your neck slick as she pressed more and more flurrying kisses against your soft skin. “So soft and warm,” she murmured, rubbing her entire face into the expanse of your neck, digging the bridge of her nose into your collarbone.

You were shocked when a gentle moan left your lips. She was kissing and rubbing her face all over your clavicles and chest, rolling her hips into you with a steady rhythm. You were starting to feel dizzy with warmth and lust that throbbed sinfully through you as this monster had her way with you.

She lowered further and finally was met with the pillowy hills of your breasts. She nuzzled herself right into them, leaving open-mouthed kisses on your flesh there that was so tender it gave way to the slightest of her touch. It felt like she was vibrating against you now, breathy and rigid and drunk. Her tongue slipped out of her mouth and lapped over the peak of your nipple, earning a loud gasp from you. Her eyes flickered open, alert at the sound, and looked deviously at you as she started to lap at your tit, the points of her fangs sticking through her lip like a kitten.

Sewing your eyebrows together, you squirmed under her, unsure of what, if anything, was going through your head. There were your thoughts, and the thoughts she wanted you to think, and thoughts your body was sending up your spine to your brain, mostly sinful and desirous.

Chuckling throatily against your nipple, the vampire grinned, which caused her fangs to scrape your skin.

“Ow!” you exclaimed at the tiny but strong sting you felt. It only felt like a papercut until the woman’s pupils went large, and she sunk her fangs into the soft flesh of your tit. You gasped in shock at first, watching the readhead’s long fangs sink into your breast, blood immediately streaming out of where she bit.

The scream that left your mouth was loud and burned your throat. The vampire grunted and groaned as she tasted your blood, her hips fully grinding into you now, her body melting on top of yours as she moaned huskily into your wound that she drank from.

You were at a loss for words as you thrashed against her strength and clawed at the pillows and blankets around you. The worst part was that, as much as it hurt and as much as you feared for your life, your middle was throbbing and more slick than ever as she ground herself into you, turned on from the mere taste of your blood.

Finally, the woman retracted, gasping open-mouthed, her lips and mouth smeared with the bright red of your blood. Her pupils were blown, red barely visible, your blood dripping from her fangs. She breathed heavily against you as your blood streamed down your breast, trailing to your stomach.

“The sweetest I’ve ever tasted,” she breathed almost inaudibly. She looked completely different now, like drinking from you had changed her features in some fundamental way that you couldn’t describe. She looked more beautiful than ever, and whether it was her persuasion or the sinner that had been hiding somewhere deep inside you, it made you even more slick to see this woman so beside herself, hovering over you, her mouth and chin covered and dripping with your blood, declaring you to be the best.

Seeming to still be gasping for breath, the vampire lowered herself more down the bed until her shoulders were what kept your legs spread open.

“My heavens,” she breathed as she inhaled the scent of your arousal, her eyes focused between your legs. “You sick little thing.”

Shame blushed across your face, but it was replaced with the blush of pleasure when the woman put her mouth over your clit. Her hands curled around your hips, holding them with iron strength as she devoured you. Your cum mixed with your own blood over the vampire’s mouth as she lapped at your soaked folds, somehow masterfully avoiding nicking you with the blades in her mouth. Her tongue plunged inside you, supernaturally long as it curled to reach your pleasure spot deep inside.

You were the one absolutely beside yourself now, grabbing at the sheets, at her soft red hair, arching your back off the bed and pushing your hips into her face. Any thoughts of life or death, the risk of it, being a prey trapped with its predator, your blood leaving your system through the deep bite on your breast, were all gone. All you knew now was this beautiful woman’s tongue deep inside you and the bridge of her nose digging against your clit.

A burst of pleasure exploded inside you, and you found yourself screaming out, blinded, only urged on with a more vigorous effort from the vampire’s tongue. Her nails had dug so hard into your hips that there were ten bleeding marks in the shape of fingernails on your skin, unbeknownst to the vampire who was joyously overwhelmed with the taste and smell of your blood and juices in her mouth.

Finally, when you had relaxed, she pulled away, looking up at you from between your legs. The blood on her face was still there but had been wiped away in most spots, turned pink by the mixing of your wetness which glistened over the bridge of her nose and down her chin. Her long tongue came out from her mouth to lick at her lips, her throat clenching as she swallowed.

You had never felt such physical bliss in your life. Your entire body throbbed and ached wonderfully, churned with the duality of it being so sexy and so morbid at the same time.

In fact, you’d nearly completely forgotten about the morbidity of it all until the vampire, eyes crazed even more, gazed down at your fleshy thighs. Her lips twitched in a smirk before she dove down and bit right into the inside of your thigh.

Reacting with a shriek and kicking your legs, you could feel her bite this time was much more painful and aggressive. She was not just biting you, she was sucking your blood.

“Stop!” you exclaimed, trying to kick at the vampire that seemed to be made of steel. “Stop! Stop! Stop!”

She did stop. She pulled away sharply, face bloodier than ever, and lunged upwards. In a flash faster than you could realize, she grabbed your jaw and snapped your head to the side, digging her face down into the crook of your neck and sinking her teeth into your throat. The weight and strength of her body naturally held you down against the bed as she devoured you now in a more real way. You could feel your blood draining from your veins, leaving them cold. You could feel your head get lighter and lighter, your arms and legs feeling more and more numb until finally you went limp in her arms like a lamb. Vision blurring, you were moments away from death when finally the monster pulled herself away from you with a heavy sigh.

The redheaded woman had to stand up out of the bed to restrain herself. Your blood streaked darkly down her chin, staining the white lace of her chestpiece which she clawed at to give her throat room to breathe. You were a pathetic thing now, covered in your own blood at your breast and thighs, laying limply on the bed, eyes rolling as you tried to jolt yourself awake.

“My dear, I believe I’ve found heaven in you,” she whispered, recovering herself as she approached you again. You were half-conscious as she easily picked you up in her arms, holding you bridal style. Your head and arm hung down limply, the both of you blood-streaked and throbbing with different sorts of feelings that were somehow mutual. She carried you to the end of the bed where, at the floor, was the wooden coffin with the lid open. Gently, she laid you down into the soft red velvet of the wooden coffin.

She was about to stand up before you weakly grabbed at her collar. She paused, something glistening in her eyes as she stared down at you with a sewed brow.

“I don’t want to die,” you coarsely whispered. Most people wouldn’t have been able to hear you but, either because of the kind of monster she was or because your blood was running through her body, she understood exactly what you said.

“Don’t worry, my lamb,” she said with a crimson grin. “I wouldn’t let a treat like you go to waste. I’m going to keep you, pet. You’ll sustain me for as long as your body can take it. For now, you must sleep and rest, for my satisfaction is brief, and my thirst comes in quite short intervals.” She paused and stood up, letting your hand fall away from her collar. “Sleep well, little lamb.”

She closed the lid on your bleeding body, leaving you locked in the dark coffin.

[r3dkn0ts]

omg hi bestie 🫶 could i maybe get some wesker x ftm trans reader (he/him pronouns + idc what u use to refer to his genitalia) !! sfw n nsfw are both okey, surprise me ^__^

i know what you are 🫵

SFW + NSFW RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS FOR ALBERT WESKER W/ A TRANS MALE PARTNER

Themes: Wesker-level fluff and sexy smutty stuff Warnings: Canon-typical violence, slight possessiveness, and he's kind of an asshole, but I think you already knew that

SFW Relationship Headcanons - Wesker is a tsundere. There, I said it. - He started a romantic relationship with you, which means that he saw something special in you. He won't tell you what it is. - Before the relationship was established, he'd try and act like he had no interest in you. Negative interest, to be specific. Wouldn't even look you in the eye. Nobody was any the wiser. - He was trying to convince himself that he'd never feel romantic feelings towards someone so much lesser than him. It probably also has to do with his repressed bisexuality. - He'd never admit that, though. He has common sense, even if he is a total maniac. - When or if you tell him you're transgender, he won't think much of it. - He's a scientist and knows how biology works, so he won't ask the questions someone with less knowledge or from a time before modern medicine would. - If you're shorter than him, he'll tease you about it relentlessly. He'll put things on high shelves where you can't reach just so you have to ask him for help. - He's kind of protective of you. He won't say it out loud, but if another killer hurts you more than what The Entity demands, he'll take things into his own hands. - Wesker loves putting his arm around your waist or shoulders when you're around others just to display that you're his. - He may not say it out loud a lot, but he does love you. Just in his own way.

V CLICK READ MORE FOR NSFW HEADCANONS V

NSFW Relationship Headcanons - Wesker isn't a particularly horny person, but if you brush up against him just right or make a move, he'll get a boner pretty quickly. - As you'd expect, Wesker loves to be serviced, but he doesn't mind taking care of your needs once you're all squirmy and desperate. - If you want him, you have to beg. Convince him that you need him inside you or his tongue on you. - It inflates his ego and turns him on all the more. - He loves using Uroboros to his advantage in the bedroom. He'll hold you against walls or pin your wrists down with his tentacles, or maybe even use them more proactively. - Even if there's no bedroom nearby, he'll just fuck you wherever he sees fit. He doesn't care if anybody catches you two. It just adds to the thrill. - He tries not to be a very vocal guy during sex, but if your tongue hits the right spot or you tell him how good he feels inside you, he might accidentally slip out a moan or groan. - He loves cumming inside and watching his seed spill out, but he loves even more to finish in your mouth or on your face. - He'll try and help you clean up afterwards if you two make a mess. He doesn't want you to think he just uses you for sex.

[magnoliabutters]

• MUNSON’S GUIDING LIGHT •

pairing: eddie munson x (he/him) reader

summary: a night of endless opportunities that mustn’t be wasted

warnings: 18+, mdni, adult language; novice reader, references to previous parts, detailed oral (m receiving), teacher/student dynamics, male on male smut, discussion of consent, internal dialogue, reader referred to as “j,” etc.

word count: ~4.2k

• the banished ones • part four •

reblogs always for the sweet lgbt+ munson

note: welcome back <3 guess what? pride never ends.

Munson makes his way up the creaking steps. You quicken your walk to follow closely behind. He opens the door and gestures for your entry. Not a care left standing. “You don’t lock your house?” you ask, baffled. He laughs as he closes the door behind you. “The only person who tried to rob from me was Lonny Branson, who lives up front. I made sure to handle that,” he says proudly. You walk through the doorway with a giddy smile.

“Handle it?” you ask with a scoff. “Yeah, he stole from me and I stole that TV from him,” Munson says with chuckle, pointing towards the TV pressed up against the living room wall. “He doesn’t try anything anymore.” You nod, finding his way of handling things intriguing. You’re positive that this way is definitely more effective than your own. He is fearless. You very much enjoy that about him.

He walks to the kitchen, diving into the fridge as you stare into the black screen of the TV. “Did you want one?” he says, calling your attention. He shakes a bottle in his hand as he awaits your answer. “Yes, please,” you say almost instantaneously. The thought of having a little liquid courage would be undeniably helpful.

Munson smirks as he returns from the kitchen with two cold bottles locked in his fingers. He hands you one, then twists off the top of his and takes a swig. His eyes still on you as you start to twist off yours. Embarrassingly, you have trouble with it. The ripples of the metal rip in to your palm. A wince falls from your lips. You’re used to bottle openers.

He bursts into stifled laughter, almost spitting out his sip. “What?” you say with a whine. “You’re just cute,” he says after recovering from his fit. He grabs the bottle from your hand, twists off the cap, and hands it back to you. “Thank you,” you say genuinely. You lift the bottle to your lips as he watches you with encouragement.

You raise your brows, nodding your head - unsure of what to do at that point. “Mm’good,” you mutter as you pull the bottle away. He laughs again, “You’re a freak. Common.” He gently reaches for your wrist with a smile as he guides you to his couch. You follow him happily, landing on the cushion beside him. He digs the heels of his big boots against the coffee table.

Awkwardly, you sit beside him. Your attention peering through your peripherals every so often. Unclear of what to do next. What is expected? The silence filling the air is something that bothers you. You have to fill it, and yet you’re holding yourself back from doing so. Munson takes another swig before resting his head back against the top of the couch. You wish you could relax, just be beside him and maybe even try to find comfort within the silence. But your anxiety would never let that happen.

Almost as though his telepathy appeared again, Munson speaks. “So where did you get the name ‘J?’” he asks, turning towards you. He hooks his knee onto the cushion. His arm sprawled against the couch’s outline. You let out a breath of relief, incredibly thankful for his lead. “I was named after my grandfather, and his nickname used to be ‘J’ so it just kinda stuck,” you answer as you press your shoulder against the cushion so you were fully looking at him and all his glory.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” you start. “Do you like Munson or should I be calling you ‘Eddie?’” Munson smiles, biting his lip. “Only Todd calls me Munson for the most part,” he shares. “He’s got a whole thing with calling people by their last names.” You watch as his eyes light up before you. He must really look up to the President of Hellfire. “But, I like when you call me Munson,” he mutters as he curls in to himself. He hides behind his bottle. “It feels like a special thing between us,” he mumbles in a whisper.

Your chest feels warm at the thought of Munson wanting and expressing something special between you two. You catch yourself recognizing just how lucky you are to have found him. To have him walk down that hall and cross paths with you and that asshole. That he decided to help you without even knowing you, or knowing what was to come.

“Sounds good, Munson,” you say with a smirk. His smile beams as he leans his head against your shoulder. Your heart races anytime his skin touches yours. Your hand slowly floats to his cheek, lightly holding him against you - hoping he’ll never leave. His arm slowly crawls over your stomach and onto your chest as he digs into the embrace.

Slowly, you turn your chins towards your shoulder. You lay a kiss against his temple. He raises his sleepy head to give you a peck. God, every time your lips touch, your mind explodes. Why would you ever want to leave? With confidence, you slide your tongue in his mouth. He meets you halfway before your lips crash around each other.

Munson hums as your movements fly in tandem. His hand now traveling down to your pant leg. Your chin bobs against him as his tongue slides gracefully into your mouth. Soft gasps escape you as you sink back into the couch. The base of his palm lands against your hardening cock.

Before you knew it, your hand travels to his waist. Nails digging into the soft skin found beneath his shirt. Fingers crawl over to his own pants as you hum against him. The vibrations tickling his nose and he digs deeper into your kiss. His lips taste like jelly, sweet sweet marmalade. He licks them in a way that makes your skin reverberate. You wish you could lick his plump lips, always. It should be you, it should be your tongue.

One more kiss and Munson raises his bottle between you. He takes a swig while keeping his eyes on you. “God, you’re gorgeous,” you whisper in genuine awe. A disconnect between the mind and your brain. “I don’t believe in God,” he murmurs. He leans closer and closer to you with that taunting smile of his. “But thank you.”

He leans back onto the cushion, giggling, as he takes another sip of his beer. “Movie?” he asks, tipping his bottle towards the VHS underneath his TV. Your eyes widen, excited by his collection. “Woah,” you utter as you lean down from the couch. You crawl towards the wooden cabinet. The fluffed carpet seething between your fingers. “Fast times, Raiders of the Lost Ark, Friday the 13th, The-The Shining,” you turn to him with amazement. “I had to sneak out and go to an entirely different city to watch these!”

Munson scoffs, “Why?” A bit of his lip lifting as his perfect teeth shine back at you. You turn back to him in confusion within the folds of amazement. “My mom would kill me if she knew I watched these movies,” you mutter as you look over more of his collection. You follow your index finger as it rides over the curves of the VHS cases. “You really haven’t done much, have yah?” he asks. His elbows now resting on his knees as he leans towards you.

“Why do you say that?” you ask with vulnerability. You bite the inside of your cheek. The slight pain and gummy sensation pull from those anxious feelings you’ve come to know. “I-I just want to know if there’s any bad,” he says softly. He lands onto his knees, crawling towards you. His hair almost at the length of his elbows. His devilish smirk as the words fall from his mouth. “Have you been a bad boy?”

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. Your eyes now highly aware of how his canine digs into his deep rose lips. How his eyes glisten in this lighting. How each of his curls some how perfectly matches the other so naturally. And even though your gut is screaming at you to say it - you can’t force yourself to lie to Munson. “No,” you whisper. Your eyes dropping to your hands as they rest on your lap.

You lost it. You ruined everything. All you had to do was lie. Now he probably thinks you’re an innocent virgin who hasn’t done shit. Which is not at all true. You did smoke pot, that-that one time. A finger at your chin rips you from your thoughts. “My sweet boy,” he coos. His lips just inches from yours. You can feel his soft breath against your cheek. “I’ll be enough of a bad boy for the both of us.”

Eyes raise with hope before you crash your lips against his. You see stars, sparkles, rainbows. You hear and feel everything. Electricity runs through you both as you lean further into the kiss. Your eyes closed tight as your fingers hold at his cheek. His hand made its way to your waist, slowly crawling to your lower back.

Each breath away from him was a breath you would regret. You bite into his kiss. Passion overfilling you. A drive so powerful you refuse to deny it. Tongues and mouths devour each other as you begin to lean atop of him. With soft hands, Munson guides you towards the couch. His back pressed against it, as you are a puddle between his thighs. Your chest was thick against his, and you can feel every breath. Now grateful for breath.

“Mmm,” you let out as his hands begin to explore your body. His soft, yet rough, beautiful hands that would make you feel safe and warm for all eternity. You never want him to stop. As his tongue pressed against yours, you feel a sensation of emptiness in the back of your throat. Your teeth crash against his bottom lip, sucking and holding him hostage until another peck is thrown upon you. The metal taste embraces the tip of your tongue as he laughs against you.

“Fuck,” Munson whispers as he reaches for your pants. His fingers hastily unbuckling your belt while you lean all your body against his chest and chin. Your back straightens so he has no problem taking off your pants. With a touch so gentle, yet rough, he holds the outline of your cock within his palm. You let out a loud moan into his mouth at the sensation. You feel your tip pulsating as it craves him. Your hips grind against the shagged carpet as you dig deeper into the kiss.

His touch becomes tighter as his dick firms beneath you. It’s girth thick as it presses against your bare thigh. God, you can’t stop thinking about it. You would be lying if you said the thought of it wasn’t playing on repeat in the back of your mind since the fight. How big was it? How girthy? How thick? Was he cut? Is he groomed? Or is he a wild man? Your mind can’t stop, thinking through every possibility - drooling as you do.

Finally, you dig your own fingers within his black ripped jeans. His palming hand now reaches for you cheeks as his tongue continues to play with yours. You grab hold of his huge buckle, pulling the belt quick and rough from around his waist. His fingernails dig into your skin as you unzip his pants. He lets out a big sigh as his bulging cock throbs just beneath the thin layer of his boxers.

His dark blue briefs perfectly outlining it for your precious eyes. You pull away to gawk at his physique. At the beauty of his pale skin against the black ink. How the freckles gather at the very end of his sternum. How his waist comes to a perfect V. How his happy trail consists of light brown hair leading beneath his waistband. He is everything.

Your eyes raise to his as you begin to tug at his boxers. He answers with a smiling bite to your lower lip. You pull the cloth down, looking at your handy work, and you swear your heart stops beating. Your hands freeze. Munson is all man. A burly dark brown bush that you prayed for since you were 14. He is the ‘70’s rockstar of your dreams, and fuck, did he wear that bush well.

“Only if you want to, sweet boy,” Munson whispers against your lips. His gaze barely flicking up at you. Those warm, chocolate eyes. You take a few breaths to gather courage. You want to see it so badly but you don’t know even the slightest thing about what to do beyond that! What if what he did for you wouldn’t work for him? What if you can’t get him off? What if you leave him and yourself with a pair of complicated blue balls?

Your breathing quickens just before your fingers could pull any further. Munson watches you, noting how your chest rises and falls. His fingers wrap around your forearm. His eyes seek your own. He slows his own breath as he places a palm to your chest. “Only if you want to, J,” he murmurs. You stay, staring into his eyes, as though you doubted his sincerity.

You break the gaze, peering down at his lower stomach. “I-I just don’t know how,” you whisper. Your eyes begin to well, but you look into the mustard fuzzy carpet to pull from your emotions. The embarrassment still seeping from within. “Baby,” he whispers. “You don’t have to-” You take a heavy sigh, landing into a kneel between his legs. “I want to!” you say with exasperation. A deep breath falling from your lips. “I just don’t know how,” you repeat slowly.

His finger rests beneath your chin, guiding your gaze back towards him. “I can help,” Munson suggests. “I can walk you through it, if-if you want.” Your ears feel hot. Cheeks reddening with each touch. “It wouldn’t ruin it for you?” you ask under your breath. A scoff pulls your eyes on him. A raising brow as you worriedly watch his expression.

“No,” Munson coughs. A beautiful and comforting smile forming across his face. “No, I-I would very much like that.” Your brows raise and a gulp falls from your throat. You can feel his gaze upon you, watching any move your face makes. Determining whether or not you want to do this, whether or not you are truly ready.

But you know. You don’t need his soothing. His coddling. You wanted him. You’ve wanted him since you first laid your eyes on him.

With confidence, you lift the boxers over his tip. You pull it’s waistline down, down to his knees. The band tightening around his outer thighs. Your palm squeezing atop his ivory skin. “Handsome,” he mutters as he peers at you. His fingers brushing through the lazy strands of your hair until his palm cups your cheek. A smile perks at that side before you turn in to kiss his softness as you lock eyes.

After a good minute of comfortable silence, your gaze falls from Munson’s. On to his nose. To his strong chin. To the quiver of his adam’s apple. To the gentle curled locks that rest against his collar bone. To his chest, his pecks. To the happy trail you have come to adore. To his rocker’s bush. To the girthy cock that raises from it.

You instinctually wrap your fingers around his base. A surprising gasp falls from his lips, drawing your attention, but his smile quickly comforts you. “You can squeeze,” he whispers with nods of encouragement. “But not too hard. It’s no different than when you’re touching yourself.” You tighten your grip but ensure that its a balanced squeeze.

His chin raises, straightening his neck, as he lets out a shaky breath. The sight and sound draw all your blood to your lower extremities. As you continue your pulsating squeezes, your focus is placed upon the strong vein beneath his cock. Your thumb rubs against that firm spot. Slow circles and some tracing of his vein between squeezes.

Sharp breaths fall from his lips. His brows now furrow. His tongue licking his bottom lip before crashing a sharp tooth against it. “You can - you can go up and down,” he whispers. While massaging underneath, your squeezing fingers begin to trace up and down his shaft. You stop just under his head. Your thumb flirts with the idea of that hardened, warm spot. His breath quickens. His nails digging into the roots of your hair.

You continue to follow your instincts, using his moaning breaths as your guide. Your thumb brushes against his tip. A few rounds of massage and you coerce a bead of precum from his slit. You can feel yourself hardening beneath your boxers. God was he fucking hot.

Using his own lube, you quicken your movements. Munson adjusts beneath you. His back straightening as his groin grows closer and closer to you. Your other hand rests gently at his under carriage. A thumb maneuvering between his balls. “Oh fuck,” he whines. The crown of his head digs into the couch’s cushion.

Your hand quickens. The sounds of your slapping skins pressing against each other. Your mouth begins to water as you hang before his pink cock. Eyes closing, you quicken your ribs and squeezes. His muscles tighten beneath you. “Ooooooh,” he moans. You remain focused on his body, on turning his body into a puddle. “Yeah, you like that?” The worlds fall from your lips, completely disconnected from your mind.

“Oh god, I love that,” Munson murmurs. His hand retreating from your hair and is now pressed against his forehead. With each whimper that stills the air, your mouth lowers onto his tip. You are salivating, almost as though you were about to eat a sour candy. You want it. You’ve been wanting it. Him.

Lowering your mouth, you curl your lips around his head. Your eyes close as your hands sustain their movements. The tip of your tongue draws firm circles around this slit, and then his head. “Oh shit,” he cries. A tighter grip against the roots of your hair. You loved it. A harsh exhale falls upon his delicate skin as the pain lingers on your scalp.

You take more of him in, desperate for more and more. More of him. More of his moans. More of his touch. You peer up to catch his fluttering eyelashes. Your tongue lathers his staff, further lubricating his skin. “Faster, f-faster,” he murmurs. You do your best to oblige him. Holding your breath with each dip of your head.

Without touching yourself, you have an abundance of pleasure within your actions. You never thought taking delicate care of another, in making them happy, that you, in return, would be dying in your own pants. You love making him squirm. You love making him feel damn good.

Before, your thumb gently massaged at his sack. Now, his balls rest within your mouth. A delicate suck as your fingers rub his shaft thoroughly. “Ooo,” Munson hisses. “Not too hard.” He tries to inch away from you, breathy chuckling as he does. “I’m sorry,” you mumble as you raise your eyes towards him. You swipe the back of your hand to the side of your mouth.

“No, no, no,” he whispers. “Don’t apologize for this. This is - everything you’re doing is - is amazing.” A hitch of your smile and you lick your lips. You return your lips to his pretty little cock. “Oh shit, oh shit,” he whimpers with brows pushed together. You can feel his larger muscles tightening beneath you. “Faster, just-” he mumbles on. “Just a little…”

Following his guidance, you quicken your movements. Your tongue wrapping hastily at his head. Fingers wrapped around his staff, rough and tight. “Just like that,” Munson whimpers. “P-please. God, don’t stop.” His hips begin to rut, soft at first but they grow in force with each of your strokes.

The strength of his waist fills you with dreams, endless possibilities. Fuck, you wish you could feel it behind you. This strength is the sensation you’ve been wanting since you knew the truth about yourself. The heart that races in your chest digs his cock deeper within your throat. You breathe softly from your nostrils as you can feel his soft curls at the tip of your nose.

“J, J,” Munson mumbles as his breathing begins to fluster. “Fuck, pull back, pull back.” He lightly pushes at your shoulders. “I’m gonna cum,” he warns. Both your hands grip on his outer thigh, taking all of him in. At that exact moment, you taste salt on your tongue, you hear his moans grumble within his chest. His body shaking and pulsating beneath you.

Sudden and tight jolts rut from his hips once again before his body gradually becomes limp. You pull back, swallowing the salted gift you’ve received. A smile broadens across your face as you peer back at him. The sweat pools into drops heavy against his forehead. You can see where his curls have glued to his skin.

With a deep exhale, Munson whispers, “Fuck, baby.” Despite his weakness, he reached for your cheek again. You help his touch by leaning forward for him. “That was so not your first time,” he mutters with a exhausted chuckle. “No, I just had a great teacher,” you whisper. Your lips pecking against his palm.

He rests harshly against the border of the couch. His hand raises slightly and gestures for you to come closer. You happily follow his instruction, especially when both hands collapse at your cheeks and pull you into an incredible kiss. A kiss like no other. A kiss that screams love and care, not a simple “thanks for sucking me off.”

It’s becoming increasingly clear who Munson is to you. What he has become. Who you wish he would be. The floating butterflies in your stomach. The fluttering bubbles in your chest. The way you can physically feel your breath stall any time you lay your eyes upon him. The way you can physically feel the sparkles in your eyes. Love?

Love.

“Common,” Munson says as he struggles to raise from his sit. He reaches for his bottle, still resting upon the side table, and takes a quick sip. He lets out a refreshing sigh as his arm extends for you. A smile glowing behind his brunette locks. You grin as you reach for his hand and are pulled from the floor. He plants another kiss against your lips, wrapping his other arm around your waist.

As he pulls away, his eyes still rest upon you. They communicate undeniable words, confirming your own feelings. Two of his fingers are interlocked with yours as he guides you further into his home. He walks backwards, stalking as he does. His eyes rake over your body. He busily looks over your features, attempting to find any indication of doubt or worry. You have none and you see that in his eyes as well.

“Sweet boy,” Munson whispers as he steps past his bedroom’s doorway. You answer the challenge, dying for more of his touch. His arms wrap around your neck as he pulls you in closer. You lean down with a smirk before crashing your lips upon his. He kicks the door closed with those big boots, as you guide him to his mattress. You both crash against each other with the bounce of his bed.

“J,” he murmurs as he pushes a piece of hair from your face. He always has to ask. Has to verbally ask. You appreciate it. It further solidified your knowledge of how strong and good of a man he is, despite his many references of being a “bad guy.” You press your lips against his cheek, an act of adoration and admiration. “I want this, Munson,” you whisper. “I want you. Always.”

note: oh goodness, i cannot wait to get to our finale ♥️

comment or reblog to join the taglist!

taglist: @wolfiescosplay, @eddiesprettygirl, @unholycheesesnack, @wrandomwritting, @amberolivia666, @migwayne, @lilpotatobean2, @seatnights, @moonofblindness , @hells-glory-hole (incredible name btw), @teaandpsychiatry, & @siddunbi

• series • updates •

[ghoulishbuck]

If you read one book or a hundred in a year you are valid. Everyone takes in things differently and finds certain things more enjoyable then others.

If you want to own bookish things or not you are valid.

If you own a few books or a bunch you are valid.

If you listen to audiobooks you are valid.

If you don’t want to read popular books or certain genres you are valid.

I could go on and on. Don’t let someone force you into believing these things aren’t.