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mv1simp · 3 months ago

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for the bully!Max, Leclerc!Reader and chubby!reader simps in my requests…I heard you and I’m here to deliver 😼😼 enjoy!!

You Belong To Me ♥️

Bully!Max Verstappen x Chubby!Leclerc!Reader

say it louder, say it louder, who’s gonna love you like me (who’s gonna fuck you like me?)

Growing up as the youngest daughter in the Leclerc family, you’d had a childhood crush on your brother’s rival and friend, Max. But when you grew older he turned into your worst nightmare, always bullying you. You’ve been able to avoid him for the last 5 years - but now with your new engineer job on the paddock, you can’t hide from Max any longer…and can’t stop the feelings you still have for him.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub, dark! Max who bullies innocent virgin!reader, dub con, brainwashing, bimbofication, somno, yk all the good shit, WC 9k 😨

You shiver as you walk into your family’s childhood vacation home along the Cote de Azure, despite the summer heat. It’s been a long time since you’d visited this house. Even though your Mama and three older brothers came by often, looking for a weekend break from their busy lives or a romantic getaway with gorgeous girlfriends, you’d always turn down their offers to join once you were in college. They'd always be confused at your hesitance - but then again, they don't know just how many bittersweet memories this home holds for you. You’d grown up here in the summers, the youngest daughter of the famous Monegasque Leclerc family. Racing was in your bloodline, and your beloved Papa had instilled his passion into all of his children before he’d passed away.

Your older brothers, who were all handsome, tall and athletic, made natural drivers right from childhood and easily progressed through the karting competitions. Meanwhile, you were the youngest and the only daughter, and were raised in a far gentler manner as the apple of your family’s eye, their cute bunny as they’d nicknamed you, after your favourite childhood pet. In comparison to your brothers who ran around outdoors, you were more shy, preferring to be left with your books and colouring pencils in the safety of the patio.

Of course, with all your differences, there had been the healthy sibling rivalry of brothers vs sister growing up. They hated being forced to play house or pose for your scribbly drawings (not Arthur though - even at age 5 you were convinced he secretly loved when you made him join the Barbie tea party.) And in turn, you'd alway complain when you’d be dragged to cheer on Charles from the sidelines as he won his karting competitions. You would sulk, childishly annoyed at your parent’s attention shifting from you to their middle son’s rapidly growing racing career.

But it all changed when Charles raced against Max Verstappen for the first time at age 11. The blonde Dutchman aggravated your competitive older brother immediately with his aggressive driving tactics. You’d heard Cha, as you’d been calling him since you were little, furiously ranting about the illegal moves Max had been pulling and your 7 year old brain tuned it all out. But when you first saw the mysterious blonde in question, your heart fluttered with a feeling you’d never felt before and a bright blush overtook your chubby cheeks.

You immediately became infatuated with the older boy, who was far nicer to you than Charles had been back then. Your middle brother's idea of “sibling time” involving hiding beetles in your bed and laughing when you screamed. So it became a common sight to see you wandering after Max instead of being by your family’s side, tugging on his shirt sleeve and showing him the racecar drawings you’d made. Max always entertained you, ruffing your hair and smiling back toothily, telling you that you were a much better artist than his little sis Victoria.

You’d beam from the praise, only leaving Max’s side when his scary father Jos would approach and eye you with disdain. You scampered back to your family, to your older brothers who accused you of the worst crime imaginable to the loyal Leclerc blood - exchanging racing strategies with the enemy Dutch. Your mother had hit all three sons on the back of the head and told them they could learn a thing or two about treating Bunny with respect like that cute boy Max did.

As you grew older, your pigtails were replaced with cute pins and headbands in an effort to look pretty whenever Max would come around to your summer home. By now, his rivalry with Charles had turned into a reluctant "frenemies who also spent summers together to discuss racing". You'd get to be with Max all day, swimming in the turquoise ocean and eating sweet stroopwafel that he always brought. An in the evenings, the two car-obsessed 14 year olds would be arguing about overtaking strategies at your family’s dining table. You’d pout, childishly wanting attention at age 11, interrupting whatever stupid point you're sure Charles was making to bat your eyelashes at your guest. Holding up your now detailed drawings of a black kart, you asked Maxie - as you’d taken to calling him - if he liked your recreation of his.

He’d grinned at you, still boyishly handsome and in the lanky phase of growing up as he told you he loved it, should he sign his autograph on it? with that Dutch accent you adored. Charles watched your shenanigans with a roll of his eyes, snidely muttering (in French, thank god) that the annoying little bunny wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her crush on the enemy Dutch. You flushed, frantically checking to make sure Max hadn’t been able to understand, and had run off with a red face to tearfully rat him out to your Mama. Unlike Charles, she found your crush on Max rather cute, and always encouraged you to give your favourite ribbons and bows to Max for a good luck charm the way you did with your brothers pre-race (Traitor, teen Arthur and Charles mouthed at you).

She eyed you knowingly when you do your best to avoid blushing as you grew older still, this time seeing Max when you were 14 and him 17 with an impressive winning streak in the Junior Redbull team. He’d started to develop into his tall 6 foot frame now, towering over your tiny 5”2 frame like your brothers did. What, no drawing of a racecar for me to sign Bunny? he gently teased, leaning down so you could shyly kiss both of his cheeks - a Monegasque tradition Max had become accustomed to from your family. You stuttered out your no, of course not, you were too old for that now! making him laugh at how cute you looked before walking off. Arthur watches the exchange with a smirk, elbowing Cha when he emerges from the changing rooms. Your middle brother’s frenemy status with Max was more of a friendship these days, and his earlier accusations of you being a traitor had turned into something much more annoying. Max and Bunny, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G-

But by the time you turned 16, your Maxie changed from the sweet, laughing boy you’d always trusted into someone darker, someone who you felt scared of at times. You were at the age where you now wanted Max as your boyfriend, naively thinking that the 19 year old driver would return your affections when he’d attended your Sweet 16th. You’d spent hours getting ready, styling your long curly hair and wearing a cute dress all your friends had insisted you would be irresistible in (but had almost given your older brothers an aneurysm). It was tight and short, and although you'd always been a chubby kid, you feel a self conscious of the new plush curves around your hips and chest, in comparison to your older brothers who now looked very handsome and muscular.

You’d lit up when you saw Max across the fancy yacht club, flooded with all your schoolmates and family friends who’d come to celebrate the baby Leclerc’s birthday. He'd looked so handsome, his muscular frame now filled out and catching the eye of many girls. There was a devilishness in his smile that came with the confidence of being the youngest F1 driver in history. Lately, your innocent crush had started to drift towards naughtier, dirtier fantasies about what Max’s large hands and lips would feel like on you, if he snuck into your bedroom in the middle of the night and told you he loved you as you willingly gave him your first kiss.

But all your naive hopes come crashing down when you see a slim, sexy blonde approach Max where he’s talking to Charles intently, drinking a beer. His hand squeezes her ass in a familiar motion as she wraps her arms around him, leaning up to give him a kiss. You quickly turn around in the crowd before you can be seen, heartbroken, and drown yourself in blurred conversations and slices of birthday cake. Max doesn’t even come to wish you happy birthday like he normally did, always with a special gift in hand. At some point in the night you’re talking to Charles and try to subtly ask who that blonde girl with Max had been. Your older brother gives you an amused look, asking if you still had your silly little childhood crush on Max? You adamantly deny it, and he smirks and tells you that was Giana, Max’s girlfriend and an Italian model. You’re upset, of course, but thankfully he changes the topic to tell you how Max had recommended his old F2 seat go to Charles, wasn’t that amazing Bunny? You nod mutedly, having become used to Cha being less and less aware of anything that went on outside his racing career these days.

After a sneaky shot of tequila your friend gave you, you have the courage to go approach Max. His girlfriend is still at his side and raises an eyebrow, pointedly glancing down at your figure to make it clear what she thought of your curvier body. What shocks you, though, is seeing an annoyed look on Max’s face as well, as he demands to know why you’re interrupting, couldn’t you see he was busy? You’ve never heard him speak like that and are confused, asking him why he’s being so mean, did I do something wrong, Max-

He cuts you off, smirking as he asks why you weren’t calling him Maxie anymore. The girl laughs at that, saying no way, she’s such a kid, she calls you that? A few of your older schoolmates have wandered over, curious to see what was going on and you flush from the embarrassment of having Max treat you like this in front of your friends.

From then on, Max just became crueler and crueler to you. It’s like he enjoyed seeing how you'd react, your cute chubby cheeks darkening with embarrassment as you avoided his gaze. Once he'd officially moved to Monaco, you ran into him everywhere as him and Charles formed a close friendship and would often hang out. Max would always time his harsh remarks just when your brother wasn't in earshot. He'd mock you about everything, from your childish appearance, to your innocently conservative outfits, your nerdy perfect grades, your animated Italian gestures and accent which he'd always seemed to adore growing up. Your popularity in school plummeted as your friends watched the talented F1 driver roll his eyes and mutter how pathethic you were when he heard you were reading romantic novels on Friday night instead of partying, saying the only reason you had any friends was because of your talented brother’s fame. Your family had no idea what was going on - as Max’s bullying started the same time your Papa becomes unwell and landed in hospital. Your brothers thought the change in your sweet demeanour was because of your sadness for your father.

If only they knew the real culprit was right under their noses.

It seemed there was nothing teen Max enjoyed more than seeing your big brown doe eyes welling up with tears. He’d use everything you told him growing up against you, making gossip and rumours fly around your school constantly. Any guy who tried to talk to you was assumed to be doing it as a dare. The first few years of high school had been like hell - the only thing making it bearable being your perfect grades and promising future. Unlike your older brothers who were natural sportsmen, you were the opposite and excelled at academics, and you’d used it to get a full ride scholarship at a prestigious engineering course in the UK.

That’s what you reminded yourself to get you through a graduation party at the end of high school. You'd been reluctantly dragged by the small group of friends you’d thankfully kept despite all the bullying and rumours. In true Monaco trust fund kid fashion, the party was hosted on one of your schoolmates' yacht, with many juniors and older siblings tagging along as well. Towards the end of high school, Max’s bullying was less common as he became busier with his racing - something Charles had become fully invested in with his new F1 Alfa Romeo seat. And you’d grown up, too, maturing into your curves and pretty dark Italian features, catching the eye of a few boys in your year.

It seemed you’d been briefly relieved of your duties of being a social pariah when you're yanked into a circle of already wasted partygoers playing 7 minutes in heaven. But when your friend pulled out your name with a drunken flush, you could only widen your eyes in horror when the next name she announces was one you'd never expected - Max.

And then you see him, on the other side of the deck, leaning against the railing and ignoring the girls trying to speak to him as his ice blue eyes intently watch you. You squeaked out your protests, begging your friend to try again, but it's hopeless when the circle begins chanting your name and Max’s. Giving up, you turned around and ran through the crowd, trying to reach the ramp and get off the boat -

-when a large, warm hand wrapped around your waist and easily pulled you into a broad chest. Before you knew it, you're in a tiny, dark storage room, with Max Verstappen blocking the door and smirking down at you. Your naive heart still ached with conflicting feelings for Max, who was your childhood knight in shining armour, who always stood up for you when your older brothers ganged up on you, always knew how to make you laugh when you were crying from their teasing. But this was also the same Max who made your high school life hell, had teased you mercilessly behind your brother’s back, and used all the secrets you'd trusted him with against you. He'd make you look like a childish little girl in front of your effortlessly cool, rich peers. This reminder brought you back to your senses and you quietly but firmly ask him to let me out.

He hadn’t let you leave, of course, instead leaning down until he was whispering in your ear with his deep voice that still send shivers down your spine, mockingly asking if you’d had your first kiss yet or if you're still the same stuck up Leclerc who thinks she's too good to be fucked by anyone here?

Heart racing furiously from nervousness, you mumble out that you hadn’t had your first kiss, avoiding his ice cold eyes as he chuckled. You know his game well enough by now to understand he wouldn’t let you go until he gets his answer. You hated the boy you once hoped to give your first kiss to. He’d ruined your reputation beyond repair, had made it so no guy at school would touch you even if they found you pretty.

Well, apparently except for one boy.

Turns out Max himself had no issues laying his hands on you, hidden in the darkness of the storeroom. His hands had pushed you up against the wall, your face cutely scrunched up in confusion, and then your jaw almost dropped in shock when he pressed his lips to your ear. He huskily whispered how pretty you looked, how he’d hated the way boys had been checking you out all night. They didn’t know you’d already promised to marry Max when you were little, yeah Bunny?

And then he’d captured the surprised gasp you let out, shocked that he’d remembered your childhood wish to be his vrouw, his wife, when he leans down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss against your soft lips. When he pulled back, his face remaining close to yours, your brown doe eyes looked into his with whirling confusion and hurt - but also desire flickering in them. And then you’d both gotten lost in another kiss, then another, and then Max being Max had starting running his hands all over your body. Squeezing his hand into your juicy ass to make you shyly moan, and then greedily slipping his tongue inside.

That’s how everyone had found you when they yanked the door open, with Max having you moaning his name, one hand sliding up your skirt and the other running over your tits. The darkness in his gaze returns as he pulled back and left you leaning against the wall with wobbly legs. He laughed as he strode off the party, saying it’d been so easy to get you to beg for him like a little slut, who would’ve guessed with your innocent appearance?

You couldn’t wait to graduate high school and go to university after that. And it had been amazing, moving far away from Monte Carlo. No one knew who you were or how deep your history with world famous athletes like Charles or Max went. You reinvented yourself, becoming confident after months of therapy and your intelligence becoming something you were admired for instead of teased. You’d though that was the end of it, that you’d never have to be humiliated or have your heart broken by Max Verstappen again. Until 5 years later when you got a call from Lorenzo asking you to come home.

With the intimate engagement party of your oldest brother being held at your family’s scenic vacation home, you’d been unable to refuse. You knew Max was going to be there, but you’d taken a deep breath and reminded yourself that things were different now. You were 22, a qualified engineer and had used your own hard work to get a job within the Alpine garage - even using your mother’s maiden name as your last name because you wanted to prove it was because of your skill, not connections. Charles had been bewildered, begging you to please come work at Ferrari, bebe but you’d been adamant about needing to prove your own worth. You loved your family, and were so happy for Cha’s success as your relationship with your brothers blossomed into a close, loyal one as adults. It had always been your father’s dream to see him in the red suit. It was unbelievable to have millions of Tifosi literally worship your older brother - and their adoration extended to you, his sweet younger sister Bunny. You make rare appearances on the paddock but were hailed as a good luck charm when you did, Tifosi cheering when you affectionally kiss your brother on both cheeks and tie a hair ribbon to his suit. You always made sure to stay well away from the Redbull garage.

And you’d become radiant in your beauty, too, in pretty, flattering dresses and fitted miniskirts that showed off your soft stomach and thighs, your generous cleavage and juicy ass. Full, lush lips and long dark curls framed your sweetheart face and you’d been finally been able to put makeup on without fear of being mocked. A few guys had tried to ask you out in college, but you hadn’t been quite there yet in your confidence to say yes. Max had seemed to put you off all men, for now at least….and your protective Italian brothers seemed to make it their personal mission to protect your honour and integrity. Very dramatic, you’d said to them with a fond roll of your eyes, secretly enjoying how they cared for you despite their luxurious celebrity lifestyles. So you’d ended up still being a virgin at your college graduation, wanting to save it for the man you fell in love with.

You reminded yourself of all that you had to offer, of how you weren’t the same nerdy little girl who was going to be bullied, when you heard Max would be joining your family prior to the engagement party. The night before he was meant to arrive, you’d been overthinking and anxiously wringing your fingers so hard that your whole family had started demanding to know what was troubling you. After giving them some weak excuse about being worried about your new job, you'd gone to read one of your romance novels by the pool after dinner to destress. You had ended up falling asleep under the stars, your tired mind eager to rest.

You didn’t know the man you were desperately hoping to avoid had landed a night earlier with his private jet. When he’d greeted your middle brother late in the night, saying he would crash for now and greet everyone properly in the morning when they were awake, Charles had gone to bed and the last remaining light of the house switched off. Only the silver moonlight illuminated your pretty face and unsuspecting figure when Max Verstappen stepped outside his bedroom's French doors, hoping to cool off - but instead felt his blood pumping heatedly at the sight of you.

Honestly, he hadn't expected to see you for years as you'd understandably fled to the other side of the continent the second you had the change to escape. You’d turned from a nervous, cute schoolgirl into a gorgeous woman, and his intense gaze hungrily roams over your peaceful sleeping body. He was going to ruin you, he thinks wickedly, gently stroking your still chubby cheeks that subconsciously leaned into his touch.

He decided to give you one last night of quiet as he left you in deep sleep, walking back inside with dark desire brewing. The childish bully he’d been as an angry teen, desperate to prove himself, was gone. He was now a thrice proven world champion, a millionaire, a man who’d been with dozens of women but found only one he still wanted through it all. And it was none other than his racing rival's sweet younger sister, the one who'd stayed loyal to him since she was little. He was ready to make you his, whether you still wanted him or not.

When you finally saw him at breakfast the next morning you had been suspicious at his pleasant behaviour, greeting you like he would any family friend and asking how college had treated you. Your whole body had gone stiff, eyes distrustfully following his every move. You’d been forced to respond back politely as your family watched you, your mum still grinning as she rooted for her daughter to become romantically involved with her childhood crush. If only your family knew how much Max tormented you, they’d never let him get within 10km of you again. But to your surprise, Max kept up his kind manner even when your family would be out of the room, laughing and smiling easily at you and somehow bringing confusing butterflies back to swirl in your stomach. After the week he'd spent at your vacation home, you'd naively started to think maybe he had changed. Maybe the five years away had made him mature into the charming, funny driver you'd seen in numerous interviews and ads, being unable to avoid his far reaching fame.

But it turned out his respectful behaviour, all through the engagement celebrations and the after party, only served as a ploy to get you to foolishly lower your guard. Max had greedily collected up all the information he’d missed over the years, about what your likes and dislikes were now, about how you’d gotten a job with your own means at the F1 paddock. And then he casually informed you over dinner that he’d spoken to Horner who was coincidentally looking for a mechanical engineer - and had wanted to interview you after seeing your resume. Your family had been ecstatic at a job for you in a prestigious garage, despite their blood thirsty Ferrari loyalty. Even Cha had caught you after dinner, telling you that it was thoughtful of Max to look out for you, that as your big brother he’d feel so much better if you were working in a winning team’s garage and being protected by Max, instead of alone in a poorly performing team.

You were so confused, couldn’t understand why Max was trying to get involved - and you told him so that night, hushed angry whispers in the hallway after everyone had gone to bed. He’d smirked, leaning down to press you into the wall, saying Wasn’t it obvious Bunny? I want you.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you stammered out your confusions, asking him why he would say such a thing, only to feel his lips brushing your ear. His deep voice murmured his explanation of how his father didn't think Max had been focused enough when he was younger, had wanted him to throw all distractions to the side...including you. I'm a three time world champion now, Max said with a cocky grin. It doesn't matter what he says anymore, I do what I want.

Although his initial words about how the change in his behaviour being due to his controlling father sent a pang of empathy through you, you hadn't come this far to just give in. You pushed him off you with all your might, only being able to get a couple of inches as you glared and said you're delusional, Max, if you think I'd ever forgive you. Much less want you back after the hell you put me through. Storming off, you naively thought that was the end of it, that Max would back off once he saw you weren't the same lovesick girl he could toy with anymore. Not gonna call me Maxie anymore? he teases at your retreating back.

You should have known Max always got what he wanted, because he finds his way into your bedroom later that night. It was stupid to not lock your room because you think he wouldn't lay a hand on you when under the same roof as your brothers. Softly closing the door behind him, Max's dark gaze took in your curvy, sleeping figure in your childhood room. It was still decorated with your younger self's belongings as your Mama had always wanted you to feel welcome - but you had never come back after graduating. So you slept against a large plushie Bunny, cutely dressed in a pink matching shorts and camisole set. The twisted desire to corrupt the sleeping beauty in front of him rushes to Max's head - and his hardening cock- and he doesn't hesitate to slowly run his large palms over your body. He teasingly slides one hand up your sheer camisole to graze your large tits and the other down your shorts, to lightly toy with your pussy through cotton panties. The sweet dream you'd been having started to turn into a dirty one from the stimulation, and you instinctively grind back against the warm, hard body pressed into your back as you moan sleepily.Your dream is getting more and more heated as Max plays with your sensitive body, and only when you’re starting to drench your panties with slick do your eyes hazily blink open. Your adorably confused expression turns him on even more as he captures your gasp in his mouth, using his tongue to explore the inside of your mouth. Soon he has your panties pulled to one side and his thick finger sliding into your dripping folds. Your muffled protests have started slipping into confused moans, and he doesn't need to keep you silent any longer as start kissing him back when your body's frustrated needs take over your mind's denials. Max looks down on your face, memorising how pretty your wide brown eyes looked as you teared up, and he whispers filthy things in your ear to send you off the edge and spiralling into your first orgasm. You're so sensitive, bunny, you’re still a virgin aren’t you? Saved yourself just for me like a good girl, hmm?

You’d silently cried into your plush toy as you buried your flushed face into it, feeling lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you knew you shouldn't be feeling, that was wrong but felt so right. Drool stained your poor bunny plush as you bit down on it to muffle your scream of Maxie as waves of satisfaction rolled over you. You'd fallen back into a deep sleep after the overwhelming stimulation, distantly feeling Max's lips press a goodnight kiss to your tear stained cheeks. And when you awoke in the morning, you almost thought you'd imagined up the whole thing, a particularly naughty wet dream, but when you found that your panties were missing underneath your cute pajama shorts you knew there was only one person who would have taken them with him.

You didn’t even get a chance to confront him because you find out the very same day that Max had gotten his lawyer to cancel your Alpine contract and have Redbull send you a new one, complete with a generous signing bonus that anyone would be a fool to refuse. With your family watching you expectantly, you knew it would be too hard to explain your way out of this. So you reluctantly signed the 1 year contract, telling yourself it was only a temporary problem, that you would surely be hiding out the back of the garage and in the workshops, well away from your childhood bully.

That’s all Max needed to get you alone, to start his corruption of you, his favourite Leclerc sibling. Right from your first day, he’d welcomed you with a firm hug, his swollen biceps pressing you against his broad chest, squeezing your plump ass and making you squeal - but striding off before you could say anything. Or coming up behind you when you were bent over, tinkering on something, and making sure you could feel his impressive semi against your covered slit. You'd always desperately try to move away, anxious someone would see - but you stood no chance against the adult Max's strength when he tightened his grip around your thick hips and grinded himself on your jiggling ass.

He still teased you, sure, but now it came off as harmless flirting, steeped into your childhood friendship. And conflicting feelings swirled in your chest when you saw the lucky ribbon you’d gifting him as a kid somehow still tied to his seat, an ever present good luck charm. Everyone else would smile at you two encouragingly, saying you looked so sweet together, where you secretly a couple? No one seemed to share your nervousness around Redbull's champion driver, or pick up on the undertone of darkness in his intense gaze when he looked at you.

Soon he has you travelling exclusively with him, staying in all the same hotels, under the guise of being his personal mechanic for any last minute corrections. Charles loved it, saying this way Max could always keep a close eye on you when you were away from home. If only your overprotective brother knew he was sending his little sister right into the den of the lion. And the so called Dutch Lion was no longer holding himself back from taking your sweet innocence all for himself.

You'd always belonged to him, after all.

It first started when he’d gotten absolutely furious seeing you at a race afterparty in Miami, giggling cutely in a pretty minidress with an engineer you’d started to flirt with at work. Max had all but dragged you to his private booth, tossing you over his strong shoulder when you tried to stand your ground and stand firmly in your strappy high heels. He kicked all the models and B list celebrities trying to leech out of the dimly lit room, pushing your head down till you were staring up at him, your pretty face bathed in the red neon lights as you anxiously bite your glossed lip.

If you wanted to get fucked so bad, he growled deeply, unbuckling his belt and making your eyes go wide with fear as the biggest cock you’d ever seen emerges, you can just beg for it nicely like the good little slut you are, hmm? You’re sniffling, tears emerging in your wide doe eyes as you beg him please Maxie, please don't do this, I promise I’ll stop-

But he doesn’t listen to one pleading word, his twisted mind obsessed with one thing and one thing only - making the pure Leclerc sweetheart gag and choke on his mean cock. You knew better than to get in the way of what Max wanted, because he always ended up getting it. Instead you let your mind go blank, letting the guilty pleasure cloud your senses to ignore the reality of how mean Max was being, your pliant mouth dropping open as you let him ruin your throat. There isn’t a glimmer of his childhood sweetness in his dark, icy blue eyes as he memorizes the hypnotising sight of your chubby cheeks slurping at raging erection, the tears falling down your face at performing your first blowjob on your knees at a nightclub just making him impossibly harder. He groans as your sweet mouth slurps on his warm length, continuing to whisper his filthy promises to punish you and slipping into dutch as he climaxed. Fuck, fuck, erg lekker, so fucking good- He made sure your crying cheeks was pressed right into his tense abs when he finally emptied his load inside you, panting heavily from how good your heavenly tongue felt. He didn’t move until you followed his instructions and tried to swallow every drop. Your inexperienced mouth struggled, half of his sticky cum leaking out the corners of your mouth. He tutted mockingly, smearing his release all over your swollen lips with his thumb and saying he’d have to give your throat so much more training so it knew how to suck a cock, hmm?

Your cheeks burned with humiliation at failing to please him properly, even though he was practically forcing you to deepthroat him. The next day, when you woke up with no voice, you’d had to pretend you had a cold when seeing Cha for brunch the next morning.

And when he’d have a bad qualifying, he’d easily swipe his way into your hotel room two doors down from his. He often finds you in a cute silky babydoll, getting ready to sleep after a long day in the garage but making sure to dress prettily because you never know when Max is in a bad mood and wants to take it out on you. You had one more job to do, and that’s to make up for whatever mistake you must have made with the car and fucked up his hot lap, Max would argue. An angry Max always scared you so you would sweetly beg for his forgiveness, even for a mistake you would never have made on the car, letting him abuse your petite frame to vent his frustrations.

Tonight, he wanted to play with your breasts, sliding the silky straps off your nightie off your shoulders to hungrily eye your curves, tanned nipples quickly tightening from the chill. Can’t get enough of these pretty fucking tits, he said as he sloppily fucked them while you obediently kneeled in between his spread legs. You’re squeezing your plush chest together to cushion his raging erection, his angry red tip making you squeal when he growls and splatters cum all over your deliciously tanned skin. Knowing he’d get mad if you don’t let him mark his territory, you rub the sticky cream all over your hardened nipples and large breasts before you clean up his drooling cockhead with your mouth. He cooes his praises at you, telling you see, you’re perfect at this, maybe he’ll have you promoted from engineer to his personal cocksleeve to relieve his stress, hmm?

You feel so dirty at the wetness gushing between your legs at his filthy words, biting your lip at the thought of Max fucking you in his driver’s room while your brothers stood just a garage over in Ferrari. But despite his constant teasing, he knew to never cross the line fully and actually fuck you. That would scare you away, make you too anxious, and although he played rough and mean when he'd been younger, he now had the patience to wait and leave you wanting more, so that you'd be the one to come to him. So he edged you constantly, working you up only to pull away just as you almost climaxed, his name on your tongue like a prayer. Or pulling you into sleep against his bare muscled chest, so that you'd feel his morning wood against your soaked panties but be unable to do anything except dry hump him.

And his plan worked because after only a few months, your once pure and innocent mind has become utterly ruined for Max’s attention. The Dutch Lion has convinced you that you’re meant to be his plaything, and you can’t find it within you to try and deny him any longer. Would it truly be so wrong to give in to the naughty desires you’d been having about your childhood sweetheart, your school bully, your brother’s rival on track but friend that had been trusted to keep his little sister safe? When you’d grown too desperate to satisfy yourself by grinding on your pillow or your tiny fingers, you’d decided to entice Max even more in the hopes that he’d properly take your innocence.

You’d certainly caught the Dutchman’s eye, as well as many other hungry gazes, when you started arriving on the paddock in cute heels and floral minidresses. And of course, your generous cleavage was out on full display in sweetheart necklines, instead of conservatively hidden in an oversized Redbull shirt. You’d made sure to have your lanyard tucked right in between your bouncing tits too, the label of Max Verstappen’s Enineering Team dangling and drawing attention with each bounce of your tits when you walked. Because you knew your Maxie just as well as he knew you, after all - and he was a intensely competitive and jealous man. You hadn’t even had to wait till the debrief as he’d hightailed it right out of the meeting room, taking you to his motor home through a back passage.

You still play the clueless little virgin, adamant on trying to resist him even though you're secretly finding it just as dirty and hot as Max does when he shoves you against the door, locking it firmly. Fuck, your body drives me wild, it’s all your fault that I’m getting distracted like this. How can you be such a naive virgin but walk around with the body of a slut just begging to get fucked, huh?

You frantically shake your head, trying to plead your innocence but he doesn’t hear your words, instead grabbing a hold of your miniskirt and asking if you understood girls with thick asses like you shouldn’t be showing them off unless you wanted attention, yeah? You started crying easily, already finding your thoughts going fuzzy as you slipped into submission, craving the way he’d degrade you for his own pleasure.

He’d have to punish you for distracting him, he said, even though he’d won P1 it had been torture seeing your fat ass bending over when you dropped your phone in front of him. You were lucky no one else had seen your cotton panties or he’d have to fucking kill them.

His possessive words make you shiver, doe brown eyes staring up at him expectantly and waiting for his orders. He swears at your obedient expression and guides your hand to his sizeable bulge, making you squeal, hoping it sounds like fright and not eagerness. He rubs your tiny palm across his pants, demanding to know just how the hell he was meant to focus with a hard on the whole race?

When you can’t answer him properly he smirks and tells you that you’ll just have to take your punishment like a good girl, then. Within seconds he has you lying across his lap, your miniskirt up around your hips and white cotton panties pulled down to snugly trap your thick thighs together. And then he’s spanking you with his large hands, telling you to count and meanly restarting each time you lost track when he hits extra hard to watch your ass bounce. By the time he’s finally content your cheeks are red and burning, and you’ve left drool all over his sofa from your desperate efforts to muffle your wails.

You like that, don’t you bunny? He asks meanly. You start sniffling again at his mean words, cheeks burning with humiliation because it had felt soooo good but you felt so naughty for enjoying it. You'd die if he found out. So instead you tell him he was being so mean, Maxie, couldn’t he just be nice to you like when he’d been younger?

Your eyes widen as you blurt the words out instinctively, making Max’s expression grow stormy at your bratty reply. Ripping your panties off entirely, he stuffs them into his pocket and tells you to explain why you’re fucking dripping all over me then, hmm? - running his thick fingers along your dripping cunny and smirking at the long strands of sticky wetness that connect to his fingers when he pulls away. When you don’t respond, too embarrassed by how your body has given you away, he slides the fingers into your closed mouth despite your attempts to turn your head. He makes you lick him clean, tasting yourself on him, murmuring if you were a good slut and spread your legs for him he might consider eating you out.

The ache between your thighs is almost as painful as your tender ass now, and your virgin cunny tingles from the idea of Max kissing you down there. Even though he’s being so mean, you can’t help but sit down willingly against the sofa arm and slowly part your thick thighs, blushing all the while as he examines you intently. You whine when his hungry gaze continues to linger, but he doesn’t stop, even taking out his phone to snap photos of your pussy after holding your thighs open to stop you frantically closing them when you see what he’s doing. It’s so cute and wet he murmurs distractedly, looking entranced as he slowly sinks a single thick finger in and finds it completely sucked in by your tight, drooling pussy. Really, you’ve never let any boy except for me touch you here, not even with his fingers? At the shake of your head and shy murmur of no, just my own, I promise, Maxie he breaks into an evil, satisfied grin. So this little hole is really all mine to claim, huh?

It turns out going down on you was really more of a punishment than a pleasure because he makes you cum multiple times with his skilled tongue. You’re begging him to stop, feeling overstimulated and completely wrecked, mascara stained tears running over your chubby cheeks. When he finally eases his sadistic torture after teasing flicks of his broad tongue have you squirting a third time, you’re too fucked out to protest him separating your puffy cunny lips and spitting onto it, as if it belonged to him. Bunny, if your brothers knew the kind of things I was doing to their precious baby sister, Max says, chuckling darkly. They’d want to slam me straight into the nearest barricade and have my head on a spike.

But your brothers remain as oblivious to your corruption as ever, with an endless supply of work excuses easily being used by Max and now you, as you started to fully give in and enjoy the intense pleasure being his personal fucktoy brought you. He’d taken your sweet virginity on a hot night in Singapore after beating Charles to P1, telling you that the best reward wasn’t the trophy but knowing he got to cum raw inside your untouched cunny. After plying you with champagne at the yacht afterparty, he'd taken you back and fucked you on the French chaise, not even making it to the bed. He’d been gentle the first time, huskily whispering praises in your ears as you desperately tried to adjust to the size, his cock so much larger than his fingers. He licked away the tears at the corner of your eyes as you bite his shoulder, lost in the waves of pleasure as you ride out your orgasm.

When he finally carries you over to the bed, climbing over your satisfied figure, you’re fooled into thinking he’s going to cuddle you. He’s turning you onto your front and you’re expecting to feel him behind you, bringing you into him as his little spoon like he does ever night. But your sleepy eyes go wide open when your thick hips are suddenly pulled up into the air, and your flushed face pressed down firmly into the sheets. And then he huskily whispers it’s time to fuck you properly, be a good bunny for me and take it, okay?

You wailed into the cushions, your open mouth leaving drool all over the pillowcases, as his cock bullies your tight cunny over and over. He reaches around to toy with your sensitive clit, smirking when your crying turned into confused moans of pleasure as the pressure in your pussy starts to feel so good. Soon he’s slamming his hard length into your twitching figure, slapping your red plump ass repeatedly and telling you how funny it’d be if Charlie found out his rival had claimed your virginity, hmm? Should he tell him next time the Ferrari driver tried to one up him on the track? You sob, begging him not to tell your protective brother, shaking your ass onto him and telling him he could even cum inside if he wanted instead of telling your brother. Max groans at your gullibility. Silly girl, he croons as he bends down to whisper in your ear, his muscled abs pressing down on you. I was always going to do that anyways, hmm? This ass belongs to me.

And then he’s moaning into your drooling mouth as his hips still above yours, draining his heavy balls into your pussy that had already been stuffed full of his thick, creamy load from the first round. Rivulets of your mixed juices run down the inside of your thighs, overflowing from the sheer amount of cum he’s pumped you full of. You know better than to ask him to wear a condom, instead praying that it was the wrong time of the month to get knocked up. Especially when he doesn’t let you get up and try to pee it out, instead murmuring he’s just going to stuff a couple of fingers inside and make sure you don’t waste anymore, okay? You try to resist, crawling away and wanting to save your poor, overstimulated clit but once again Max easily holds you still. Hmm, guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson and use my cock to plug you up, he threatens meanly, making tears fall down your face again and his dick twitches with interest. Every man had his pleasures, and world champion Max Verstappen’s was to see the Leclerc baby sister crying and begging for him. Sick bastard, you think distantly through a pleasurable haze as he sinks back inside your gummy walls and makes you keep his cock warm.

Your secret affair with the Dutch Lion continues easily throughout the year. And at the end of your contract, at the yearly FIA prizegiving, you attend with Charles instead of with the Redbull team, dutifully doing your part as the Leclerc sister now that your term at a rival garage was done. At one point you get up from dinner, saying you had to find the bathroom, but end up gone for 20 minutes, missing Cha being awarded overtake of the year for when his Ferrari had divebombed the leading Redbull. Later, when everyone is mingling, Charles walks over to Max’s table, shaking his hand and taking a seat to reminisce about the season. They’d come so far together from their childhood karting days, wasn’t it heartwarming now that they stood together on the F1 stage?

The two men laugh, catching up on missed updates during the busy end of season. Soon they’re talking about their love lives, Max congratulating Cha on his relationship he’s recently made public. The Ferrari driver warmly returns the compliment, saying whoever the Redbull driver was seeing recently must be treating him well because he’s never seen Max so relaxed before. He’s seen the gossip magazines speculate who the silhouette of a mystery girl seen making out on Max’s lap in a paparrazi shot through his car window. Max slyly commented that it was good the camera hadn’t been able to go lower, because then they’d have seen that she’d actually been bouncing on my dick underneath her skirt. Charles laughs at Max’s deviousness, patting him on the back for being such a shameless fucker.

Charles had forgotten to go find the youngest Leclerc, which was just as well because he would never have been able to guess where you had been hiding. You’re diligently on your knees, drooling on Max’s cock underneath the tablecloth, safely tucked in close between his spread legs. Your brother is completely unaware that the girl he and Max are joking about is his innocent baby sister, who’s currently worshipping his rival’s thick length eagerly. Paying the price for her brother’s overtake on the track with her glossy pink lips, just as Max had ordered you too when he found out what award his rival was getting tonight.

As the night continues, all formality lost as the party goers make use of the open bar, it was all to easy for the blonde Dutchman to make you follow him to the private bathroom. It’s so degrading, so mean of Max to do this, to have you on the dirty bathroom floor with your pretty curls unpinned from the classy updo you’d spend ages styling. Your expensive red silk dress hangs off your hips and exposes your bare, bouncing tits to his hungry gaze. So slutty, no bra and all, hmm? You wanted me to fuck you tonight, didn’t you? Answer me! He slaps his hard length repeatedly against your chubby cheeks, spraying precum everywhere and making your perfect makeup run.

Soon mascara stained tears are dripping down your face as Max makes you finish sloppily sucking him off, his phone camera on you and recording every single filthy sound that fills the air. It’s obscene, the way his huge cock stretches your small plush lips open all the way and your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his tip grazes the back of your throat. Hmm, so eager to drink my cum, aren’t you? He coos, and you nod dazedly, your doe eyes glassy. Fuck, you’re such a good little slut, letting me do whatever I want you to your body. My own personal fucktoy. Bet you’d even let me piss down your throat if I wanted, huh?

You gag at this, trying to shake your head but finding it impossible with the strong grip he has on your hair. Max chuckles at your panicked expression, reassuring you not to worry, he wasn’t that mean. You don’t believe him, because later he bends you over the bathroom counter and makes you look in the mirror to see where his leaking cock repeatedly sinks in to the hilt, stretching your cunny out yet again, filling it with his thick seed. You text Cha some excuse about feeling unwell and leaving early as Max buckles you into his passenger seat, knowing there was no way you could explain your absolutely wrecked appearance to your brother afterwards.

You’ve realized that the legal end of your Redbull contract really had no say on anything. Because at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was what Max wanted - and he wanted you to stay by his side, forever. So you let him take your hand in his a few months later at Lorenzo’s wedding, revealing the secret relationship to your family. Your mother is overjoyed, telling you both that you always had her blessing, ever since you’d been kids. Your brothers take a lot more convincing, of course, as well as Max swearing privately to Cha that you certainly hadn’t been the girl from the paparazzi car incident, he’d never treat the Leclerc princess like that of course! He was a playboy before, sure, but for you he was willing to stop all that and commit.

Charles gives you two his begrudging yes, seeing how attentive Max was with you, always intently watching you whenever you entered the same room as him and always knowing where you were if you walked away. And the way you’d look up adoringly at the blonde, desire and love clear in your doe eyes. Soon you’ve accepted Max’s offer to move into his penthouse, unpacking all the lingerie and diamond necklace sets he’s been buying you for months. And when he comes home at the end of a tiring day, sighing and settling on the living room couch, you now know to anticipate Max’s needs before he has to tell you. You crawl over to him, wearing skimpy lingerie in his favourite colour, nuzzling your face into his clothed thigh and asking please Maxie, could you please suck him off, your mouth felt empty without him?

He places a loving kiss to your forehead and unbuckles his belt for you, cooing praises at what a good little pet you were being for him. This time, when he cums, you have no issue greedily swallowing every single drop of his hot, sticky cum, licking your well trained lips. So yummy, Maxie…Would you like my pussy or my ass next?

He smirks down at your slutty words, a dazed expression on your face, dumbly ready to please him however he liked, whenever he was in the mood, wherever he wants it. Nothing quite beats having his own personal toy, even if it’s taken some time to break you in. Doesn’t matter now, though, because it has been worth it. Because you’ll never leave his side again, completely devoted to him, the concept of being with any other man ruined for you.

Time for him to make good on his childhood promise, Max thinks. Make you his vrouw, his wife, once and for all.

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junabuggy · 7 months ago

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Ticci Toby headcanons⁉️

A/n: Back and writing for my childhood crush?? Yes, yes I am.

Warnings: None !!

──★ ˙ ̟ 𝘚𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨?

🪓☆ Bro LOVES animals and insects, especially the ones that most people dislike

🪓☆ Such as centipedes, millipedes, possums, raccoons, snakes, beetles (especially weevils omg) and spiders + many many more

🪓☆ MIDWESTERN EMO BOY!! Guys PLEASE just look at him it makes sense

🪓☆ He has a few freckles and moles :33

🪓☆ The type of person who’s kinda quiet until you get to know him, grows more comfortable with you over time :P

🪓☆ He can be kind of a sarcastic jerk sometimes though ngl 😭

🪓☆ NOT a morning person

🪓☆ Hypersexual

🪓☆ Plus due to his CIPA it’s one of the few things he actually can feel.

🪓☆ Likes to go on walks. And I’m talking HOURRR LONG ONES

🪓☆ Toby’s love language is for sure either quality time or physical touch 💯💯

🪓☆ Besties with Jeff and Jane and is like an annoying little brother to Masky

🪓☆ He’s pansexual !! If there’s a hole there’s a goal 🙏

🪓☆ Tried to pierce his ears by himself once… Yeaaahh they got infected the next day

🪓☆ Absolute LOSER but I love him dearly so it’s alright <3

🪓☆ Waffle jokes and whatever aside, he enjoys both waffles and pancakes equally, not really much of a preference there.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

#asks open #ticci toby headcanons #ticci toby #ticci toby fluff #creepypasta #pride month #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanon #x reader

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antsday · 5 months ago

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in the palm of your hand

[i was re-reading @habken's incredible scammers to lovers au and wrote this short fic. I really love their work and couldn't help myself lmaoo. anyways i hope you all enjoy!!!]

“Hi! Can I help you with- oh,” says the angel from the IT department, spinny chair swiveling to a stop. “It’s you again.”

The first week Katsuki had come in, Deku had been relatively understanding and chipper- bright and sunny and shit. More personal than the strained smile and forced cheer that most customer service workers spoke with- of course I’ll fix your laptop, no problem, just leave it to me.

Now, about three weeks later he looks at Katsuki like he’s just bitten into a lemon. As in, like Katsuki had come into the IT department, looked Deku in the eye, bit into a lemon, and then made a puckered up face and writhed in discomfort and then showed up with another lemon the next day, rinse and repeat for nearly a month. A complicated mix of intrigue and confusion and mild horror at this endless display of masochism.

Which is fair; there really is no other way to look at a top ten Pro Hero who repeatedly comes in to have his laptop fixed and won’t admit under penalty of death that it was because he clicked a pop-up in hopes of having a proper conversation with a dreamy IT guy. Not that Dreamy IT guy in question knows about all of that, but whatever. If Katsuki was in Deku’s position, he would also be worried about the fact that the safety and integrity of the public was left in the hands of guys who can’t stop getting scammed by obvious pop-up ads.

“Your laptop’s broken again?” Deku says incredulously, as if reading Katsuki’s mind. His voice is really nice, even when he sounds confused as shit. Smooth and soft like- like a satin pillowcase. Or something. Whatever. It’s not like they pay him to be good with words.

Then again, it’s not like they pay him to (unsuccessfully) flirt with the guy he’s normally supposed to see once a month max, but here he was.

“Yeah,” says Katsuki, like he said two days ago, and then three days before that, and for the past month. It’s easier to say than I got a pop-up ad for a BL manga and I am ninety percent sure the twink on the cover was just a recolor of Sasuke Uchiha and I clicked it because I’m a fucking dumbass and I needed an excuse to keep coming in here and gazing into your dreamy-ass eyes. If you even care.

He’s surprised Deku’s even asking. He’s been consistently coming in here for exactly the same reason: his laptop ‘mysteriously’ got a virus and now he needs it fixed. He’ll be back to pick it up soon, no, he’s not getting a new laptop, no, he’s not sure what happened, no, he’s not going to install some fancy-ass ad-blocker because he doesn’t want to (and it would get rid of his excuse), and Deku’s never asked this but yes, he would love to go get dinner sometime, he’s free today and tomorrow and the day after that and the rest of his life, forever, actually-

“...Did you,” Deku begins, like he’s searching for the right words. “Uh. Do you have any idea what could have happened? Any idea at all?”

I gazed into the dead-eyed stare of poorly-recolored Sasuke’s green eyes and thought of you because your eyes are also green, and less unnerving to look at, and the more I thought about that the more my mouse moved away from the ‘x’ button and the next thing I know, I have a virus and my desire to carnally hold your hand has overpowered any other logical thought. That’s what happened.

“No,” Katsuki says belatedly. “Fuck. Look, can you fix it or not?”

“Of course,” says Deku. He’s still got that little furrow in his brow. Katsuki wants to bite at it like taffy- which, is a weird fucking thing to think, scratch that- “Just- give it over, and I’ll be sure to have it ready for you in a little while.”

“Cool.” He holds out his laptop. It’s reminiscent of when he was four and showing off the cool rhinoceros beetle he caught to his mom. He’s internally beaming with pride at his success so far, and Deku’s got that same baffled, borderline horrified expression that his mom did.

Although, that particular interaction ended with the thing flying out of his hands and into his mom’s cardigan and with him getting yelled at, so, maybe it’s not the ideal scenario to compare this to.

But this encounter will end differently. He’s got a grip on the rhinoceros beetle, now. He just has to play his cards right.

“So,” he says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his slacks so Deku won’t see how fucking sweaty they are. “You’ll have it ready by lunch tomorrow?”

Deku takes the laptop and tilts his head. “Uh. Yeah, I will. In fact, I can get it to you earlier than that-”

“I’ll be busy for the rest of the day,” Katsuki lies. All his incident reports are done, and he’s got the night shift on patrol tomorrow. “You’re done by 2 tomorrow, right?”

“...Yes?”

“Great. Look, I have to stop at that fucking- crepe place, down the street, right,” he says, praying to every God there is that he looks cool and casual and not like a ‘Deranged Goblin Man’, as the Hero Times described him a few months ago. “So. When you get off work you should meet me there. At the crepe place. Tomorrow. At two pm.”

He doesn’t know what’s worse- the fact that he’s really doing this, being reduced to the same sort of emotional sap he would have made fun of only five years ago; or the fact that Present Mic’s lessons on subtlety and hidden meanings in text were actually good for something.

Look at him, effortlessly weaving together words to create sentences with underlying motives. He’s like a modern-day Shakespeare. He’s golden. He’s killing it. Bakugou Katsuki, master of words. He’s on cloud-fucking-nine. He’s-

…aaaaand Deku isn’t responding.

Deku blinks. He opens his mouth. Closes it. He sets the laptop down, staring up at Katsuki intently, and Katsuki starts to sweat.

You are Bakugou Katsuki, he reminds himself. You might be down bad, but you’re not weak. It will not kill you if he rejects you. Well, it’ll kill you a little. But not that much.

“At the crepe pla- to give you the laptop, right?” says Deku slowly. His face is turning bright red. Katsuki goes a little weak in the knees.

“Sure, yeah,” Katsuki says half-heartedly. “Look, if you want, I could. I dunno. Fucking- buy you a crepe or something. As payment.”

He’s so smooth. Eat your fucking heart out, Dunce Face. ‘Zero game’, his ass.

“Sure,” Deku says, scratching the back of his neck, smile just a tad bit shy. His face is still mildly flushed. Katsuki swoons (and does his best to not let it show on his face). “I- uh. I’d like that. I guess.”

“Cool,” says Katsuki. “Cool. Great. Okay, bye. Be there or else. Bye. See you.”

He turns on his heel and power walks out of the room, not once looking back, even when Pigtails nearly crashes into him or when Deku makes a noise suspiciously like he’s slamming his head against the desk. He walks out of the room, into the hallway, back to his own office.

The door slams shut behind him. He takes a deep breath. Squeezes his eyes shut. A breathlessly excited grin forces his way onto his face, and he pumps his fists, victorious.

He's got a date.

part one/part two

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #dkbkdk #scammers to lovers #IT!deku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bkdk fic #ant writes

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morgana-ren · 1 year ago

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i love angst, and i love your writing, but please, PLEASE, i beg you, could you write some hope of tav ever returning now that the imbecile, has realised the error of his ways 🥺😭 (either way, thank you so much, for all your astarion writtings, it has made me feel things, the angst is real and my masochistic heart loves it🥲)

First part of the story HERE

Common complaint I got on that one! So I fixed it just for y'all. This ending is much less sad and much more sappy, so here is the comfort you need after all that angst!

"Darling, will you smile for me? Just once more. Please--"

He feels her cheeks in his palms, the soft skin against his battle-hardened callouses. Desperation cradles his unbeating heart, and for a moment, the emotion is far too much. A searing flame after centuries of frost. A bonfire in a blizzard. It hurts-- it burns--

"My love, I just need you to--"

"Anything my lord, anything at all for you. Simply command me and I will do anything you ask."

"No, I can't-- I-- I won't do it. I won't. I won't!"

"My lord?"

Her head cocks, turning slowly to look upon him, but her eyes-- they are empty; beetle-black and hollow. Her smile is uncanny as a painted doll, her movements disjointed and inhuman. Her teeth are stained crimson with blood, dripping, dripping, ever dripping down, never swallowed, only pooling.

She is light as a feather as she slips away from him, her skin marbling into a sickly gray before ash spreads across her body as a disease, smearing her form into nothingness. Only her face is left untouched, pretty as porcelain, unflinching and unfalling save a small crack that splinters down from her forehead down to her eyes, revealing inky black abyss beneath.

"My lord-- Oh, my tender, vicious lord. I can feel your anguish-- your hunger. Devour me to be whole once more--"

Her blood smells of rot and she--

She is too far gone to save. Too far gone to ever be saved.

"I won't!"

Whirlwind. Pain. Confusion and dread and seeping anguish. A maelstrom of rage and all-consuming despair swelling from within his soul—

—his soul?

The world around him falls away, a wicked tornado thrashing him about, his mind howling in the eternal winds--

And suddenly he is in a chair.

Not a throne. A chair— and a rather uncomfortable one at that.

"What in the hells—"

His vision spins, nausea curling his gut into a wicked tide of sickness barely restrained by his teeth. He tastes stale blood crawling up his throat, threatening to overturn onto the faded rug beneath him.

"Did you see what you wished for, little spawn?"

The voice takes him by surprise. It is not hers, but another, less familiar voice. The wailing animal in his head retreats to a dull roar as his memory creeps back. A brightly colored tent assaults his vision, piecemeal rugs and odd, foreign trinkets abound on makeshift shelves, and before him sits a strange old woman, hood pulled heavy over her straggling gray hair.

"I-- What was that?"

He sees her cracked, aging lips upturn, gnarled hands placed protectively over a strange orb on the table touching his knees. "I have shown you your future, vampling. Was it to your liking?" Panic rises within his stomach again, and though he does not breathe, he clutches his chest. The smell of incense clogs his nostrils and again, the wave of sick threatens to spill forth. Wretched taste of metallic, aged blood sits heavy on his tongue, all sensation too much-- all of it too much.

"No-- No, that cannot be it!"

"This is your path, Pale Elf. The road you walk. The power you seek is well within your grasp, but as I told you before, it will cost you everything."

He vehemently shakes his head, denying it. Denying it before her and all the Gods.

"You told me upon entry that no price was too great for your reward. Do you still agree with this sentiment?"

"No! Not-- not her. Not her. Not that! I couldn't--"

"You can and you shall, sure as the moon follows the sun. You will have everything you ever wanted, but cost of this ritual is plain before you. You cared not for the many souls left to your mercy that are crushed beneath your tyrannical fist in your ascension, but what of the sole one that resides in your heart?"

Her. The light of his life. The air he breathes. The sun on his frigid flesh, the warmth that melts his icy heart.

"No," He hisses, trying to stand, but ultimately unable to muster the strength. "I won't! There-- There must be another way. Show me!"

"There is no other way," She says, solemnly. "It is inevitable."

He swallows down the information like a boulder lodged in his gullet. Her words echo endlessly in his mind, bouncing off the walls and lodging shards of ice directly in his soul.

"What if I-- What if I don't ascend? Tell me, what if I don't?"

She smiles again, teeth flashing through her thin lips. "That is another path, little elf." "I need to know. I-- I need certainty. I won't do this to her, but I--" He pauses, grappling with everything in his mind, desperately flitting about to absorb it all. "If I am going to forgo this, I need to be certain. I need to know that I can protect her, that she will be safe--"

But the woman simply shakes her head.

"Everyone must choose. For some, the path is dark, but for you, you see more than most will ever have the comfort of knowing. I can offer you nothing more. Should you initiate the Rite, you know this will come to pass. I can tell you nothing more if you choose to not. The future is yet unwritten, and the quill resides in your hands." "Then why can I not have both!" He slams a fist on the table, clawing at the soft wood. For the first time in ages, tears prick at his pale lashes and frustration wells a knot in his throat. "Why--" "Because one path is wholly your own, while the other is a tangled web, such is the nature of deals with the Hells. You will get everything you ever wanted and lose everything that made it worth having."

His head slumps, defeated and miserable. Silvery tears slide down the curves of his cheeks, even as he attempts to bite them back. He thought he would find comfort in knowing the future, but all it has given him is utter horror.

"Despair not," She continues. "Yes, you will wither under the sun, an eternally cursed dweller of the night, but all is not lost, is it? The one you love, will she stray from your side?" "I wanted her to have better than that," He sniffles, needling his lip with a fang. "I cannot brave the sun, but her-- She deserves better than that-- better than me."

"And what of what she feels?"

His brows furrow, and he peers up at the woman from tear-beaded lashes.

"You are a night walker; it is in your nature to be selfish. But love is not selfish, little vampling. You must fight your nature, your inherent self-loathing, or your love will always find the fire. What of what she desires?"

"She loves me," He says with absolute certainty. "And I--" "Do you love her?"

"Yes," He hisses, almost insulted that she would ask. "More than anything. I'm here, aren't I?"

"Then the rest matters naught. If you love her, you will allow her the agency to choose-- something you deny her as an ascendent. You must grow past your own follies. To love is to be vulnerable, and you must allow both yourself and her this freedom."

They are hard words to swallow, and yet, he feels the truth resound in them. She would not leave his side, even as he tried to force her to understand. Even as an instrument of his manipulation and schemes came to light, she stood steadfast with him, hand entwined in his, ready to face the fire together.

"I-- I need to know she will be safe."

Again, the woman shakes her head. "You cannot. You must fight fate if you wish to overturn it. You face dire odds, though throwing the dice in your favor now will doom you later should this outcome be the confirmation of your fears."

He sighs, face crinkling as he sniffs once more, summoning the willpower to swallow down the agony of his choice. He finds the strength in his legs to push himself upward from the chair, weak and shaking as a newborn fawn as he does so. "I will do whatever I need to. Anything."

"Then you may yet see this through."

He can hear the fanfare of the circus outside, the bawdy bards strumming away on their lutes and banging on drums, the elated screams of the children and their parents. Facing the light now seems impossible, but he must find his way home to her-- he has to be with her now now now--

"The coin first, boy."

He snaps out of his delirium only long enough to fish his hands into one of his pockets, bringing out a coin. Aged and neglected, the sinister engraving of a skull peers up at him from his palm, ruby eyes gleaming in the light as he tosses it into the woman's knobbily-jointed hands.

"Best of luck to you, night-child," She tucks it away. "We may yet meet again." "No offense, but I hope not."

"Me too, Little Star."

He pays little mind to the bustling streets and bursting taverns of Baldur's Gate, his feet carrying him back to camp as swiftly as his body will allow. It takes him until sundown even as he damn near jobs, ripping through the tree line and into the ruins with the intensity of a man starved.

"Astarion!" Karlach greets him, trying to wave him over. "I've got a bet with Gale about--" "Where is she?" Astarion immediately cuts her off, looking around frantically.

"Who?" Karlach raises a brow.

"Who else?" Wyll crosses his arms, looking intrigued at Astarion's intensity.

"Oh! In her tent, I think. Why? Gotcha a special something' in town for her, eh?" Karlach tries to rib at him, but he pushes past her without a second glance.

"Bet it's a fancy new dress he needs to tear off of her immediately," Karlach rolls her eyes before returning to her business.

He bursts into her tent to find her hunched over a book, tongue poking from between her teeth, as she scans over the page. This only lasts a few seconds before he scrambles onto the bed, squeezing her as tightly as he can manage, burying his nose into her hair, tears brimming in his eyes once more.

"Woah, hey!" She laughs, carefully setting her book aside, trying to discern what in the hells he is mumbling endlessly into her neck.

Need you-- need you-- love you-- can't lose you-- don't ever--

She hushes him, realizing something has gone terribly, terribly wrong, kissing his head and tugging him close. "Hey, what's wrong?"

She tries to cup his cheeks and bring his face up but he adamantly refuses, hard-swallowing the urge to bawl into her shoulder with every ounce of willpower he has. All he can manage is to cling to her, half sobbing, visions of that terrible future swimming in his head. He cannot let it come to pass, he will not--

And she holds him, cradling him in her arms, hushing him gently. Her face creases with worry, running her hands through his silvery hair as he pulls him into her lap.

"Little Star, what's wrong? You seem so upset. What can I do to make you happy, my love?"

"Is it done?" Ulma leans down as she enters the tent, carefully dodging the intricate tassels of the blanket strewn over the entryway.

"It is," The strange old woman replies, still rubbing the coin with her worn thumb.

"And?"

"I showed him nothing but truth," She says quietly. "I did not manipulate his vision. Only channeled it."

"That tells me nothing. I need to know if our children are safe."

"I cannot tell you this, Ulma. You know of the ways of our tribe; our relationship with these magics." Ulma's lips purse, her exasperation evident in her humorless expression. "I need to know--"

"His reaction was genuine. That was not my doing. He knows the price of power. I cannot tell you if he will pay it regardless," The old woman's head lifts, a slight mischievous smile playing on her lips. "But I can tell you what I think."

"And what do you think?"

"I have seen his soul-- the heart of it. I believe you will see our children yet. He will spare our heart to spare his own in kind. It beats in that woman," Her eyes twinkle in the low candlelight, a genuine smile widening across her cheeks. "I believe he can find redemption yet."

#morgana and friends #astarion #astarion spoilers #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #heh that last one messed yall up huh #heres a fix for it #SUPER sappy FYI #SO ENJOY!#I don't usually write sap (or angst) so I am bad at this #sorry its bad fellas #I GENUINELY could not think of a way for him to fix him becoming her cazador so uh #have a retconn #call this a fast fixer upper lmao

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months ago

Text

House Mitchell takes on Halloween

Ewan Mitchell x wife!reader

a/n: amidst all the wild booping, @peachysunrize fed me this idea that's sweeter than all the Halloween candy out there. Enjoy, you spooks!

main masterlist

Your family gets ready to go trick or treating.

“Darling! Come and look at our little Aemond!”

Ewan smooths the wig over little Aemond's head, its yellowish hue giving off Lannister more than Targaryen, much to little Aemond's chagrin.

“Daddy, make sure it won't fall... off!” Little Aemond pats his head in frustration, fighting the invisible spiders he's convinced will pull the wig down.

“Pinky promise it won't fall off, little duck.” Ewan laughs, his eyes glinting with that particular warmth he saves for his family. He lovingly fusses over his son—his little duck, his precious ducky, as the folks say out in Derby.

“But... it will!” Little Aemond whines, adorably pressing down on his skull, because that will make all the difference. The magic coming off his hand is stronger than any superglue.

“Wait, wait, put your hand down, duck. We have to put on your eyepatch, remember?” Ewan says, met with Little Aemond's frantic nodding. He has to look exactly like daddy tonight. Wig, eyepatch, tunic and all.

He even begged for his mum to draw on a scar over his eye with her ‘lip crayon’.

“Daddy had a line on his face!” he whined.

“He’s right, my darling,” Ewan cooed, his lean arms encasing you from behind. “Daddy did have a line on his face, under his eyepatch.”

Your face heated up at your husband purposely dropping his voice down an octave, the word daddy a seductive rumble against your ear.

You smacked his arm playfully, squirming. Not here.

“Daddy's tickling mummy's ear!” Little Aemond giggled obliviously.

It doesn't take long before Ewan is crouching in front of the mini version of himself. Well, of Aemond. His only son standing proudly in full costume, never mind that the wig they managed to get for him leans more toward golden blonde than silver.

Just yesterday, they decided that they would no longer answer to their own names, and only to Aemond and Helaena. Leave it to the children of an actor to be so fiercely dedicated to their characters. And so your son and daughter, ages 6 and 4, have completely stepped into the shoes of the beloved Targtower siblings.

You descend the stairs slowly, holding your daughter's hand. Little Helaena, dressed in Hightower green with her silver hair (her wig ended up being far better than her brother's) and a little clear briefcase filled with rubber creepy crawlies. Friends, she calls them.

“Darling, I’m coming down with our little dreamer!” you call out to your husband.

Little Hel bounds for her daddy, skipping the last few steps, holding out her bag proudly. “Look, Daddy! My friends are coming with me!”

Ewan holds his arms out for his daughter, taking her in with an unmistakable look of adoration. “Wow, look at you, my love! Did you bring every single friend? That’s quite the group you have there, my little dreamer.”

Little Helaena giggles in delight, her cheeks pink as she leans snugly against her daddy. She clutches her bag tighter as she lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They wanted to come. But they’re very brave, daddy. They won’t get scared tonight.”

Ewan nods with complete seriousness, looking over each “friend” in her bag as though he’s in awe. He then pinches her cheek gently. “That’s because you, my love, are the bravest girl of all to be watching over them.”

“Queen!”

“Right, my bad, ducky,” he says, feigning seriousness. “The bravest Queen.”

“Mum!” little Aemond whines, pulling at his own wig with an indignant tug. “Why does Helaena’s hair look better than mine?”

“My hair’s better cause I have magic friends,” she sings, wiggling her bag of rubber spiders and beetles for emphasis.

“Not fair!” Little Aemond groans, scrunching his face even more. “I don’t get magic friends… just this itchy wig!”

Ewan grins. “Well, good thing you’re the great Aemond Targaryen, fiercest warrior in the Seven Kingdoms!

Little Aemond’s pout fades, his face shifting into something almost noble as he glances at his sister, then back at his daddy. He squares his shoulders, sighing dramatically as if resigning himself to his princely duty. “Fine… But,” he mutters, peeking at Helaena’s wig again, “maybe next Halloween I get the better hair.”

You laugh, nodding. “It’s a deal, duck. But if you ask mummy? You look absolutely perfect.”

When Ewan gets to his feet, his gaze lands on you, and his breath catches. You’re dressed as a witch, with a long black dress that clings in all the right places, smoky eyes, a dark red lip, and the staple pointy hat. Simple, and probably the most generic Halloween costume—as all of yours and your husband’s efforts had been reserved for your kids’ getups—but judging by the way his eyes greedily trail over you, it might as well contain real sorcery.

“My darling, aren’t you the most spellbinding witch I’ve ever seen,” Ewan smoothly intones, stepping in closer, his hand curling around your waist as he pulls you in. He leans close, his lips brushing against your cheek. “How am I supposed to keep my focus with you looking like this, hmm?”

You raise an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. He’s dressed as a classic vampire tonight—a dark cape flowing over his broad shoulders, a subtle shadow around his eyes, hair gelled to perfection, and that glint of on-brand Ewan-cheekiness in his gaze that makes him look almost too ravishing for family Halloween night.

“Seems only fair, doesn’t it?” you murmur, lips quirking in a smile. “I’ve got a hot vampire for a husband so… now we’re even.”

His grin is slow, revealing his sharp vampire fangs, and he is about to swoop in for a kiss until Little Aemond’s voice cuts in.

“Are we going yet?” he grumbles, adjusting his eyepatch as he stands in his full costume, as if he’s been ready for hours. “Helaena and I have to get all the candy!”

Ewan chuckles, raising a brow as he glances down at the two eager little faces staring back up at him, their excitement barely contained. He places a hand over his heart in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, Your Highnesses, we’re heading out!”

But just before opening the door, he turns to you, leaning in close enough that only you can hear. “My darling,” he murmurs, looking at you with an intensity that gets your heart racing, “just remember… all those lovely spells you’re casting in that witch’s outfit tonight? I’ll need you to show me every one of them once these two are asleep.”

A slow, sultry smile spreads across your face as you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. “Oh, baby, I have some very special incantations in mind that you might find quite… exhilarating.”

“I might be a vampire… but I’ll have my wand at the ready, if you know what I mean.”

“Ewan!” you laugh freely, the image he conjured up bringing a rush of warmth to your cheeks. After years of marriage, your husband still has such an effect on you. And it will doubtlessly endure, til’ death do you part, and even beyond.

“Come on, Mummy… Daddy!” Little Helaena groans, pulling at your dress.

The night is alive with the laughter of children and the glow of jack-o'-lanterns flickering on porches, casting playful shadows against the cool autumn air as your family walks outside.

Little Aemond and Helaena happily race ahead, their costumes swirling around them, embodying the very spirit of Halloween.

You look over at Ewan, who stands beside you, his expression a mix of pride and amusement as he watches their antics. There’s a softness in his gaze, an undeniable warmth that makes your heart swell. He’s not just the dashing vampire tonight; he’s a devoted father, completely enthralled by the joy radiating from his children.

“Ready for an adventure?” you ask, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Always,” he replies softly. “I love you, my darling.”

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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eraenaa · 7 months ago

Text

Tea Party (Modern AU)

Aemond Targaryen x Stark Reader Tag List

Synopsis: Aemond convinces you to let Helaena join your group’s exclusive tea party, using any means necessary just for you to agree.

Warnings: ¿Super Soft Aemond?, Mature, 18+, Stimulation, Aftercare, P in V Sex, {Using Sex as a Weapon}, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2,349

A/N: Based on a request by @slytherincursebreaker

“I have to go,” You sighed and pecked Aemond’s lips as you two were walking along the courtyard of your university. Aemond quietly groaned in protest, “Do you really have to? Just skip it this week,” He said, not letting go of your hand, instead pulling you closer to him, making you laugh. “I’ve already skipped last week’s session, per your request— the girls will have my head if I miss today as well,” You sighed and rested your palm on his chest as he rolled his eye and shook his head. “It’s just an hour… or two,” You added and went to the tip of your toes to peck his lips again, but Aemond took hold of your cheek to deepen your kiss.

When you parted, you breathed out a laugh, “Now I really have to go,” you sighed and turned away to hastily walk to the hall before your dearest partner could drag you to your shared flat, “Hi, Helaena!” You greeted her as you passed his sister, waving your hand and giving her a wide smile. “Where is she going?” Helaena quietly asked her brother, who sighed and shook his head, “Tea party,” He answered, and Helaena nodded, “That reminds me, we found another for you to add to your collection,” Aemond said as he walked with his sister, reaching in the pocket of his leather jacket and acquire a small, clear box that housed a beetle his sister was overly fond of collecting.

Aemond gazed at his sister, slightly frowning as she appeared unimpressed by the small gift you and he had acquired for her. Normally, a smile would adorn her lips, and her eyes would twinkle in mirth; now, however, her expression was threading to melancholy. “Are you well? Do you not like it? Or perhaps you already have this variant?” Aemond asked in concern, halting his steps. Helaena shook her head and plastered a small smile, but her brother saw right through her act. “Tell me,” Aemond insisted, and Helaena sighed, her gaze plastered to the ground.

“I… I want to join their tea party,” She said quietly, but that did not aid Aemond’s confusion about her sullen state. “It’s just… it looks like quite fun. The treats they serve always look so delicious, and I would always see them laughing in the hall,” She explained further. Aemond licked his lips and hummed, nodding in understanding. “Do you truly wish to join?” Aemond asked, and Helaena cast her gaze upward in hope and fervently nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,”

“No,” You responded to Aemond’s query; the both of you were having dinner when he asked you if you could let Heleana join your group’s tea party. “Why not?” Aemond asked. “Aemond, I love Helaena… I do, but she cannot join,” You say, and Aemond’s furrowed brows only severed. “Why not? You’re not giving me a reason. My sister truly wants to join— she noted how fun you and your group have, and she wishes to be part of it.” You sighed and shook your head, taking a sip of wine before speaking.

“Aemond, they’re not having fun— they’re making fun at other people’s expense!” You explained and stood, moving to clear the plates, but Aemond hindered you and took the empty dishes himself as he followed you to the kitchens. “What?” He asked as he placed the dishes in the sink. “Those girls are vicious. They look sweet, they truly do, but they’ll eat her alive,” You explained, but still, Aemond was just wholly confused. “Aemond, you and I know of your sister’s little quirks… and I love them; I find them endearing, but to others… they won’t be so… welcoming to it,” you said delicately.

“Helaena is a Targaryen. She belongs in that group with you and the other daughters of the great families.” Aemond insisted, and you drank the finality of your wine. “Yes, I am aware of your family’s standing— your family’s power is not the problem here. It is that Helaena is too… soft to be a part of that group,” Aemond scoffed, “You are part of the group,” He stated, and you shook your head, stepping closer to him. “I have been desensitized by those girls; our familiarity since childhood had prepared me for their harshness,” You said, “You should have been there today; they did a full half-hour making fun of Jacaerys’ posture alone!” You added, and Aemond snickered. You gazed at his reaction, noting that he would do well in that group along with the ladies who had no problem in drawing criticism at the expense of others. “I just don’t think she’ll be comfortable there,” You said quietly. Aemond sighed, not conceding until he had accomplished getting Helaena into your overly exclusive group.

“Are you not their leader? Can you not just order them to play nice?” Your lips agape at Aemond’s question. “There’s no leader here,” You denied, but Aemond raised his brow, a smirk slipping his lips as he knew fully well that you were practically queen in the eyes of those girls. You breathed out a laugh at the stare Aemond gave you. “Aemond,” You sighed as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Please, for me,” he said, and your heart grew soft at the pleading in his eye. “Aemond,” You sighed once more and tried to walk away, but he urged you to stay rooted on your spot, burying his face in your neck and placing small kisses upon it, trying to sway your mind.

“She… she would not like it,” You stuttered, mind distracted and your body filling with the familiar need that only he could conjure and sedate. Aemond hummed as he sucked on a delicate spot that made your knees weak and your whole being wanton. “How are you so certain?” Aemond hummed as his hands squeezed the flesh of your behind, smirking against your skin as he felt the buds of your breast peak and strain through the thin sheet of your dress. Aemond returned his lips to yours, kissing you in the way that he knew would leave you dazed, the two of you stumbling toward the bedroom of your flat, him gently laying on the bed as his hands wandered through your body, leaving fire in the wake of his cold touch.

You called for his name as his lips traveled from the apex of your neck to your bosom. His hands hiking up the fabric of your dress higher and higher. “Reconsider, my darling?” Aemond hummed as he sucked on your skin, leaving his little marks. Your breathing labored as he bundled the skirt of your dress to your waist. You mindlessly shook your head as he pulled down the bodice of your dress and took the bud of your breast into his mouth, his tongue circling and his teeth lightly biting it.

When Aemond heard no reply, he knew he should double his efforts. His hands slithered upwards, resting on each of your thighs. He tailed his kisses further south and planted them on the insides of your thighs. “Aemond, please,” You called, and you felt him smirk against your skin. “Reconsider first,” he said, and you groaned. His stubbornness and insistence placed a buffer on your wants. Aemond sighed as he felt you push him away, trying to stir away from his hold, but his arms hooked around your thighs prevented you from doing so.

“I’m not in the mood anymore,” You sighed and tried to release yourself from his hold, and Aemond started to regret pushing you further. Aemond sighed as he watched you hop out of bed, and he groaned as he was filled with need for you, but he had overplayed his hand. “Darling,” he called as he followed you to the washroom, trying to wash your face with cold water to lessen the flush on your cheeks. Aemond walked behind you and rested his forehead on your shoulder, a grieved sigh escaping his lips, and you felt his need pressed against your backside.

“I’m sorry,” you hear him murmur and place a kiss on your shoulder. “It is just… I do not want Helaena missing out,” Aemond sighed and brushed away a lock of your silky hair. “I do not want for her to miss out as well— and she won’t! She won’t miss out by not attending this tea party; she’d be saved from their ill topics.” You said and turned around; Aemond flushed against your frame, and you situated between him and the marble sink. You watched as Aemond licked his lips, eye darting around the room.

“Then let her decide. Let her try it first; if she does not like it, she does not have to return now, does she? Let her see for herself,” Aemond suggested, his hands cupping your cheeks. You sighed and relented, nodding your head as his fingers caressed your cheeks. “Fine,” You sighed and Aemond placed a kiss on the side of your lips. “Swear,” He said, knowing you could never go back on your word. You groaned at his tactic, “I swear to you,” You said quietly, and you felt a smile on his lips as he kissed yours.

You moaned quietly as Aemond perched you upon the cool marble of the counter, his fingers caressing your back and slyly undid the zipper of your dress, the sleeves of it coming loose on your shoulder. You moaned against his mouth as his hand yanked downward the bodice of your dress, and his hand toyed with you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, your need for Aemond severe. You hear a quiet sound emit from his throat as you ground your hips against his, your hands flying to the waistband of his trousers to remove it. Aemond parted your lips as he felt you cup his length, your soft hand lightly moving against the pulsating and stiff bulge.

“You’re teasing me, my darling.” He warned, his lilac eye turning deep amethyst with want. With your other hand, you reached to remove his eyepatch to see the whole of him, your thumb tracing his scar, and you breathed heavily as he leaned further into your touch. “You were teasing me first,” came your reply and Aemond smirked before capturing your lips again, him being the one to fully remove his trousers. “Fuck, I missed you,” You hear him breathe out as he sheathed himself inside you. Wetness had greatly gathered and offered no resistance to assist Aemond’s well-endowed length. “You just had me this morning,” You say breathlessly, slightly amused by his statement.

“That was not enough,” He hissed as he felt the tip of his cock press against the spongey spot in your cunt; his hand rested upon your waist as he tilted your head back and rested upon the mirror of the sink. “Aemond… oh god, don’t stop— just like that,” You moaned as his thrusts were relentless, presenting you with pleasure that consumed you whole. You feel his thumb pressed flatly upon your nubbin, drawing circles upon it, and he hissed as you clenched tightly around his length; you were quick to come undone. You moved and placed your hold on the nape of Aemond’s neck, locking your lips as the altered position had proved to lead his thrusts deeper. Aemond groaned as you bit his lip through your kiss, pulling you close and willing you to do it once more.

“Aemond… Aemond,” You cried as you felt the familiar knot in your core tightening once more, your orgasms always quick to follow one another. “Will you come again so quickly, my darling?” Aemond hummed as you guided his hand to your tit once more, him smirking as your eyes rolled back and his hands palmed your breast. “Only I can make you feel as this… only I can have you like this,” Aemond gritted in pleasure. You nodded your head, a moan escaping your lips as you agreed. “Swear it. Swear that you are only mine.” Aemond’s thrust began to falter, his own release coming quickly. “I am only yours; I swear.” You moaned and peeled your eyes open to watch his pleasure-etched face as he spilled himself deep inside your cunt.

You breathed heavily and simply observed as Aemond opened the faucet of the sink and took a towel to run through the water. You bit your lip as slipped out of you, watching as he smirked as he saw your cunt drip of your essences. Your hazy eyes observed as he sank to his knees and cleaned the consequences of your coupling, placing a kiss on the inside of your thighs before hoisting you up and carrying you to your bed so the two of you may rest. He tucked you in his arms and ran his hand through your hair, lulling you to sleep.

The following week, Aemond observed from a distance as you introduced Helaena to your group, who held their weekly tea party. He watched as a smile was on yours and his sister’s face and you guided Helaena to seat next to yours. He observed for a moment as the girl was rendered silent, and you tried to return them to their conversation to reassure them that the outsider they deemed his sister to be would not be a hindrance to their topics.

Aemond glanced to his side and saw his brother appear, his brow in a furrow as he observed the scene. “How… what is Helaena doing there?” He asked in disbelief. Aemond smirked, recalling how he had convinced you. “I have my ways,” he said lowly and watched you take a cup to your lips, the conversation of your group continuing once more. “Will she even fit in there? Does their group not just gossip and criticize other people?” Aegon asked. Aemond watched as his sister’s lips began to move, sharing an anecdote with your group, and he noted how the group’s full attention was on hers. “She’ll do just fine.”

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kaeyas-beloved · 2 years ago

Text

It’s The Way He… || #2

Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno, Dainsleif, Heizou, Itto, Kaveh, Xiao, Wanderer

Summary: Just cute/heartwarming/breath-taking things he does <3

Genre: Fluff + Snippets

CWs: gn!reader (you/your), injuries (Cyno), petnames (my love; Kaveh),

a/n: did a pt. 2 because the last one got lots of love and I though they were really cute so I wanted to do some others <3

|| Pt. 1 ||

Alhaitham

It’s the way Alhaitham props his chin on you - your head, shoulder, just whatever is easiest at that moment - as you read. His eyes, a beautiful mix of green and orange, will skim the page you're on. It's no quantum physics or retelling of historic events, but if you like it then he'll give it a chance. Just, don't be too upset when he asks you to read faster, he wants to know what happens next is all.

"Are you almost done? I've finished the page. What? What's that look for?"

Cyno

It’s the way Cyno is so serious as he dresses your wounds, a stark contrast to the genlteness of his touch. It doesn’t matter if it’s a paper cut, a rash, burn or a gash from battle, it’ll receive the same level of attention and care from the general. If he had it his way he’d get Tighnari to fix you right up, because at least Cyno knows you’re in good hands, but that can’t always happen, so he’s your next best. In a way that’s alright, at least this way he can personally see to it that you’re looked after.

“This will sting a little, sorry, but it has to be cleaned. I’ll try to lessen the pain as much as I can and finish quickly. If you’d like, I can tell you some jokes to take your mind off of it?”

Dainsleif

It’s the way Dainsleif never forgets the little details about yourself. You could mention it once and he’s already committed it to memory, he's committed you to his memory. For 500 years he's walked alone, maybe not always physically, but it still felt like there hasn't been anyone with him. You are the first connection he's had in so long, and even if he's doomed to live long past you, the image of everything that creates you, he’ll will himself to remember for as long as he can, because just the thought of you makes him feel like he's alive once more.

“You told me once that the stars brought you peace. I thought it’d be nice to look out at them tonight, for they too do the same for me. However, if I was to be truthful, you, without a shadow of a doubt, bring me the most peace.”

Heizou

It’s the way Heizou leaves a riddle on the kitchen counter for you every so often before he leaves for work or errands. There’ll be clues scattered around the house for you to find as well, each one becoming more cryptic than the last. Of course, he knows you well enough to not make them so tough you can’t figure it out. He wants you to receive your prize after all~

“Did you figure out today’s riddle?” … “Heh, that’s correct, I knew you’d get it! Now, come and claim your reward. I think you’ll really enjoy it this time~”

Itto

It’s the way Itto runs up to you the instant he sees you in the streets of Inazuma, arms ready to grab hold and lift you as high as he can or as high as you allow. He'll even do a little spin with you he's that happy to see you. It doesn't matter if you’re alone or with someone, he is a loud and proud oni who shows off the person that owns his heart!!

"There you are my partner-in-crime, my beetle battle buddy, my number one! Say, if you're not busy how about you tag along with me? I just found this awesome raman place that's pretty cool if I do say so myself. How about we check it out?"

Kaveh

It’s the way Kaveh readily helps you with your outfit and any bells and whistles that go with it. As a renowned architect there are times where he’s invited to formal events, and you are his first go to for a plus one. And where there’s formal events there’s formal attire, and the hassle of making sure everything is perfect. Be it a tie or some piece of jewelry, Kaveh and his keen eye for detail are there to help attain that perfection.

“Ah, here, let me help. Sometimes, it takes another pair of eyes to catch if something’s off. Of course, you look stunning regardless my love. There, shall we head off?”

Wanderer

It’s the way Wanderer stumbles to match your pace. For as long as he's lived he's moved at his own pace, never once slowing or playing catch-up for others. For you though, he'll stop to admire the things he's overlooked due to his immortality, he'll race to make sure you don't run too far from him that he can't raech you. No longer does he run away from those he loves, now he runs alongside them.

"What? You stopped for a flower? It's pretty? Please, I can think of many more things that are prettier than some flower, but I suppose we have some time. Who am I to stop you from doing what your little heart desires."

Xiao

It’s the way Xiao carries with him the little gifts you give. May it be a flower, a picture, a letter or another object of some kind, the yaksha will have it tucked into the safest pocket he has. To you it may have just been something you picked up or made while thinking of him, but for Xiao, it’s his good fortune charm. Something that has a tangible weight to it, his constant reminder that someone is waiting for him back home. However, he can never bring himself to tell you this, covering up the why he brings it everywhere with some barely strung together excuses or redirections.

“Of course I’d take it with me, why would I not? Huh? You think I’d have no real use for it? Tsk, you still don’t know the ways of the adepti, do you?”

Tag list: @spoopy-fish-writes // @that-enby-alien // @xenuuu // @mariposa666haruka // @quackquackmfs // @kaerui-kaisen // @ajaxstar // @genshin-impact-writings // @stage-lucida // @ventisweetheart // @lordbugs // @leena-shi // @lemontum // @akiria12167 // @ari-the-wr1ter // @dontmindmebeing // @xiaos-wife // @irethepotato

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rafeysbambii · 1 month ago

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hypnosis : s2!rafe has to handle some guys that were talking down on his bambi.

warnings : lots of cursing, rafe beats a group of guys up, a little nsfw at the end (not a lot but soon!)

story type : fic / drabble !

a/n : i’ve reached 280 followers! this is so mind blowing to me, thank you all so much for all of the support! i’m so glad you guys are enjoying these! i love you all so very much! and also, bambi calling rafe ‘my hunter’ is canon and i won’t be told otherwise.🤍

(you get it cause she’s the deer and he’s the hunter.. yeah.)

rafe loved bambi, but of course he wouldn’t admit it (even though it’s painfully obvious) out loud to anyone besides her. and that ladies and gentlemen is the reason why he spoils to the fuck out of her, new shoes, new clothes, trips to the zoo to see her weird looking animals, and even getting her little beetle car wrapped in a pretty light brown per her mention.

and he’d be damned if anyone were to disrespect him or his girl.

well today was like any other friday for the almost couple, bambi has driven to the country club to meet rafe so she could watch him play some rounds of golf - or mostly for the free drinks and watching his muscles flex with each swing.. but who’s business other than hers is that?

and also like usual, rafe had some work to do and ordered bambi to meet him at the country club, get a little flute of champagne to keep herself occupied, and just kick back and wait for him to arrive.

and she would’ve done just that…

if she didn’t hear a group of guys laughing obnoxiously at her and rafe’s table. but here’s the kick, she heard rafe’s name flow so effortlessly out of their mouths. “ — right, man i’m telling you, she’s hot as fuck, rafe is a lucky man but shit is she making him soft.. i mean i asked him if he could grab me some stardust, and you know what he told me?”

“he told me ‘i don’t do that shit anymore, don’t want my bambi getting involved with that.’ he’s pussy whipped!” she had heard about ‘stardust’, but of course rafe had told her ‘not to worry her pretty little head about it’, “man that pussy must be magical, cause you can’t catch me quitin that shit for a quiet bitch. he needs to go back to fuckin’ the girls with the big tits and never gave a fuck!”

that’s what really set bambi off, what made the tears flow from her big bug eyes, what made her run out of the country club and into her small car, and before she can even start it up, she’s violently sobbing into her hands to the lowered sound of ‘Picture you’ by Chappell Roan (queen mama.)

yet even with her favorite music artist playing in the back, she can’t help but tune it out on her drive all the way back to her home in tanneyhill, just a few blocks down from rafes house where he’s probably still finishing up his work, but she can’t help but not pay attention to it - or the fact that he’ll probably blow up her phone within seconds of arriving at the country club.

and her prediction was right, once she’s already rushed into her house, took off her cute checkered dress, white sweater and uggs that rafe had bought her, her phone was blowing up with messages from rafe, but she knew his friends were right, she’s soft… she’s holding rafe back, and now she knows.

from ; my hunter🤍

i’m here baby.

i ordered you that red drink with the cherry and red shit.

don’t remember what it’s called lmfao.

where are you?

???

hello?

bambi?

where are you bambi?

seen just now

she watches with ease as the texts bombard her phone, yet she clicks the electronic closed, leaving rafe worried that something had happened to her on the drive to the country club. but she doesn’t really care, she wants to be left in her solitude with her tears.

bambi is sleeping peacefully when shes suddenly awoken by a warm pair of hands rubbing at her back, but she doesn’t move an inch - who the hell is inside of her house? “bambi? there you are kid,” oh, she recognizes the voice — it’s her favorite if she’s gonna be honest, rafe.

“hm..” she hums softly, “where the hell have you been bambi? was waitin’ for you.” he slides into the bed, even after she shrugs her shoulders “what’s goin’ on with you bambi?” - she doesn’t have an answer for him, which makes her feel sick to her stomach — she wants to tell him, she really does, but she just can’t find the words.

“i’m not good enough for you… i-im…” that sentence alone makes rafes heart quiver, “what the — the hell are you talkin’ about bambi? why the fuck are you sayin’ that shit?” he grabs her chin, forcing her eyes on his blues - and he feels absolutely defeated when he sees the red, puffy doe eyes that add to her features.

“i heard some boys at the country club talking… t-the guys you play golf with that one night…” rafe already knew where this was going, and he wasn’t happy about it.

at all.

“and they said that i made you soft… and that my pussy must be magical and that’s the only reason you’re with me…” his heart shatters into a zillion little pieces when the words leave her words, how could anyone ever say that about her? someone so sweet, and caring? “that’s… that’s not true baby, you know that.”

“i don’t rafe… they’re right — im not like the girls you’ve had before, they’re more..confident, a-and pretty. i’m just… me.” rafe is holding every physical bone in his body not to storm over to the country club and beat them all to a pulp. “listen to me bambi.” he takes her face in his hands, his signet ring cold against her skin - but she doesn’t seem to care when he’s looking at her like she’s the only girl in his eyes (she is.)

“you’re everything i want honey, i never would’ve talked to you if i didn’t think you were interesting, i love you, you. not any of the other girls before you. you’re perfect bambi, and i won’t let anyone tell you otherwise. and yeah, they’re right — that pussy is magical.”

“rafey! don’t say it like that!” she slaps his chest as they both laugh together - peace, they’re at peace. “wait…” she pauses, looking up at rafe once he pulls her into his lap, “you… you love me?” rafe simply looks up at her, leaning forward to kiss at her neck softly, “yeah bambi, i love you.”

“so does that mean… i’m your girlfriend?” rafe is confused for a minute, “i thought we were already dating bambi.”

a beat of silence rains over the two.

“you never asked me rafey! how was i supposed to know!” her well manicured nails, courtesy of rafe - scratching at the back of his head, she loves rafe, a lot.. and up until this moment, she was completely under the impression that they weren’t in a relationship..

although they do, do a lot of couple things… like rafe decorating the passenger seat of his truck to bambi’s liking, or — or whenever she’s cramping, he brings her a strawberry milkshake from the shady diner in the cut that he absolutely hates going to, but for his bambi - he’ll walk to hell and back if she asked.

so… maybe she did kinda know.. but that’s not the point!

“fine then bambi, will you make me the happiest and luckiest man alive and be my girl?” for a moment, there’s a beat of silence between the two, before bambi is suddenly crying. “shit baby - didn’t mean to make ya cry angel face.” of course, he’s quick to wipe the tears and catch her lips in his, loving the feeling of her trying to catch up with him.

“yes rafey! yes i’ll be your girlfriend!” she exclaims in between wet kisses, the lock to their newfound relationship —. “good cause i wasn’t takin no for an answer.” he’s quick to lean forward, kissing her plump pink lips with an exaggerated smack “now i can kiss you as boyfriend and girlfriend, no more friendly kisses.” the both smile like innocent children as bambi curls into his side, exhausted with the days she had (she woke up, got her nails done, and then went home and took a nap before going to the country club.)

“go to sleep my bambi, i’ll be right next to you in the morning honey.” he doesn’t even realize she’s already asleep until her nose is gently twitching cutely, a small habit he picked up on over the few months - he absolutely adores it, and he adores her, and now..

it’s time to find the dicks who made his girl cry.

the country club is getting emptier and emptier by the minute as the women getting tipsy with their girlfriends, and the men chugging down beers while golfing exit to return back to their homes in tanneyhill. but rafe, is just getting started.

hes immediately identifying the group of guys who made his bambi cry - some tall, bulky and not hot guys. psshh, this would be easy for him. “sup man.” he says as he approaches the group, placing a hand on one of their shoulders in a super non threatening way. “what’s up rafe! yo pogue, get my friend a drink!” rafe stops the guy; by the name of Jordan before he can call the pogue waitress over.

“nah nah, i’m not here to drink fucker.” rafe licks over his lips, his blood practically bubbling over through his seething anger. “i’m gonna tell you this once and you’re gonna fuckin listen yeah?” rafe says, grabbing jordan by the collar and lifting him right off of his chair. “you ever fuckin talk about my bambi like that again and i’ll sew your mouth shut. she may not be crazy but i am.”

rafe drops the shaking guy right into the glossy tile grounds of the country club, flicking the rest off as he turns away — making sure to whisper a snarky remark under his breath.

and the entire ride back to bambi’s, he can’t help but grin wildly because he knows bambi doesn’t know how truly crazy he is — and how willing he is to kill anyone who crosses her without her even knowing it.

a / n : hello there! i’m sorry for taking such a long leave, i’ve been going through some stuff but this is my apology! i hope you enjoyed this, and ill be getting into more writing!

#bambi!reader #bambi🦌🫶🏻#rafeysbambii #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x oc

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asonofpeter · 1 year ago

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Normal

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: After the events of everything, you and Jaime can finally be alone...

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), fingering, oral fem receiving, penetrative sex, Blue Beetle spoilers?

Word Count: 1.5K

A/N: Final part! Took me a while but I did it! Short and sweet. This shit got me horny af so it's pretty good hehe. Enjoy!

My work shall also not be translanted, copied or reposted!

“This thing is itchy,” Jaime sighed as he shifted in his seat. “Fuck, can’t reach it,” he dropped his arm.

“I got you,” you reassured, arm reaching around his back as you lightly grazed his skin, trying to navigate where he was itchy based on his features.

“No, no, a little to the right,” he winced before he relaxed. “Right there,” he closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you, mi amor,” he squeezed your hand.

You smiled and for the next few minutes, you thought he was good until he started again.

“Jesus,” he stood up, walked to his room and he threw his shirt over his head.

“Still?”

“It’s worse,” he huffed out. “It’s everywhere now,” he glanced in the mirror.

“Just tell me where,” you walked up beside him.

“Along the edges, where it meets,” he said and you complied.

“Thank you,” he exhaled, turning around to kiss your temple.

Your breath hitched when you opened your eyes to be faced with your shirtless boyfriend.

“Hmm,” you made a noise, reaching your hand up to brush his skin. “Been a while since I’ve seen you like this,” you said.

“Oh, yeah,” he smiled, glancing at where you were touching him.

“We’re home alone,” you added.

With Rocio and Nana shopping at the mall, Millie at work, and Rudy getting some parts for his new truck, you and Jaime were finally alone.

“I bought condoms the other day,” he said and you looked up at him.

“Shut the door,” was all you said.

Jaime nodded and he ran toward it before you both ran to each other, your hands quickly finding their way to his hair and his to your waist.

You were obsessed with how he felt.

“I missed you,” Jaime sighed, forehead pressed against yours.

“Me too,” you exhaled, pressing your lips against his.

Everything grew heated, the intense longing you felt for one another finally pouring over as you both undressed each other.

You sucked in a breath when his hand pinched your nipple, his other hand squeezing your ass, kneading the soft flesh. You pressed your body against him and he let go of you, hands touching your hips as he guided you on his bed.

“You are so gorgeous,” he shook his head in disbelief, gaze raking over your body as you rested on your elbows, lip pulling between your teeth, your face heating up under his stare. “I love you so much,” he leaned down and kissed you, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh.

“Jaime,” you called his name softly, resting your head against the pillow, spreading your legs, and welcoming his hand between them. “I love you,” you said before your breath hitched, his fingers gliding along your folds.

You felt your back arch as he circled his thumb around your clit, your lips becoming wetter, and soon you felt his middle finger go inside you.

He moaned at the feeling and you could only picture how good it would feel when he was finally inside you.

“Oh my god, Jaime,” you sighed, hips beginning to move against his palm before he placed another finger inside you, your back arching in the process.

You felt that pressure build and you knew you were close. Embarrisanly way too soon for what it normally took, but hey, it had been too damn long.

“C’mon, mi amor, you got it,” he encouraged, your nails raking down his arm as you gripped onto his wrist. Your hips ground against his fingers, your body withering beneath him as the pleasure became overbearing.

“Jaime,” you moaned, thighs tightening around his hand when his finger stroked over that rough spot as you finally reached your orgasm. “Oh, fuck,” you cried, voice breathless.

You slowly opened your eyes to gaze at him before you glanced down, your hands still wrapped around his wrist. You relaxed, hands drawing up his arm and over his chest. You maneuvered yourself so he settled between your legs.

“So good, baby,” he kissed your cheek before he placed one on your lips.

“Mhmm, Jaime,” you breathed, your touch dragging out over his shoulders and down his back.

He smiled above you, his head dipping down as he pressed his lips along your jaw, trailing down your neck, your collarbone, your chest. He hummed, wrapping his lips around your sensitive peaks, your back arching as he kneaded your flesh. He took his time in exploring your body, savoring each area of skin, each sound escaping your beautiful lips, and each and every feel of you.

“You are so beautiful,” he kissed down your stomach, hands tracing every curve of your body, squeezing his favorite parts right as he arrived at where you wanted him the most. “So delicate,” he shook his head as he situated himself between your thighs, his strong hands pulling them apart further. “All mine,” he breathed before he licked a long stripe along your pussy, your back curving at his touch.

You gasped, hands reaching out to clutch the sheets, your thighs instinctively squeezing around his head and he welcomed in by moving your legs over his shoulders. You let out a trail of moans, your fingers finding their way to his soft brown curls, pushing him further against your core.

His tongue traced a small pattern on your clit, his lips wrapped plumply around the bud as he sucked. He knew you were sensitive, his eyes opening to catch your uncontrolled body as you struggled to feel the pleasure you were longing for. He placed his hands on your hips, holding you down as he continued.

You began to move your hips, but his grip stopped you and you whined at the lack of control. You heard him chuckle against you and that only served as another gasp of pleasure leaving you. You missed having him between your legs and seeing him as he ate you out. Sometimes it felt like he loved it more than you.

“I’m gonna-,” you lifted your head, lightening the pressure on his head as you felt your second orgasm approach. “Fuck, Jaime,” you moaned, falling back on the bed as you came undone.

You caught your breath, eyes dazed as you stared at the ceiling. You felt smooches on your body, moving up before your boyfriend came into view.

“I really missed that,” you said, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“It’s been too long,” he cupped your face, reaching down to kiss you.

You thought about it, aware that it’s been more than a few months. Probably the day he left for his final year at Gotham University.

“It has,” you agreed, getting up and moving him onto his back before you straddled him. His underwear is the only thing blocking you. You shifted, grinding slightly on him and you grinned when you felt him beneath you. “I definitely missed this,” you smirked, dipping your hand in his underwear and wrapping your hand around his length.

“Mi amor,” he closed his eyes and you licked your lips deviously.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you inside me again,” you reached over to his nightstand where you knew the condoms were, and pulled one out, not ripping your attention away from him as you lazily pumped him. “All those lonely nights I wished you were fucking me, whispering my name in my ear,” you glanced down at your work, his precum dripping down your hand.

You stared back at Jaime, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to keep focus, beads of sweat forming on his skin and you wondered how his senses had changed ever since Khadji-Da was introduced.

“You say the right things,” he sat up, grabbing your head and pressing his lips against yours, moving you to your back in the process. “Always so perfect for me,” he said against your lips, his hips lining up with yours and soon he sank into you, your walls wrapping around him.

“Oh,” you both sucked in a breath when he stilled inside you.

“Please,” you furrowed your brows. “Can we savor this?” you asked, reaching up to press your forehead against his.

“Mhmm,” he nodded, gulping.

You wrapped your legs around him, hands coming up to touch his biceps and you moved to hide your face in his neck, inhaling his wonderful scent.

After a beat, he began to rock his hips, your tightness sucking him back in with each thrust. You dragged your nails down his muscles, everything sensitive and you felt the way your walls craved the feel of his cock, the sensation traveling all the way back to your bud, causing your eyes to roll in the back of your head.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” you moaned, clutching onto him.

“Neither am I,” he groaned, lips pressing against your ear.

“Fuck,” you came first with him following right after.

He rolled off you, disposing of the condom before he welcomed you to cuddle against him.

“I think it’s time we start thinking of getting our own apartment,” you said after a beat of silence.

“I agree,” he brushed your arm with his hand, rolling to his side to see your face.

You smiled, puckering your lips and he grinned as he reached down to kiss you. Things were normal again but you both knew one thing, no matter what you’d be where the other goes…

Reblogs are the best!

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes #jaime reyes imagine #jaime reyes smut #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes fanfiction #jaime reyes x y/n #xolo maridueña #blue beetle

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vrystalius · 4 months ago

Note

How would Giyu and Sanemi react if they were in love with the same girl?

❕Giyu and Sanemi falling in love with the same girl

Note: Thank you for requesting <3 Although I do really enjoy writing for Sanemi, writing for different characters is refreshing! Anyways, enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this.

Pairing: Giyu x hashira!fem!reader x Sanemi

💙 Giyu Tomioka 💙

Giyu would be admiring you quietly from afar, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s completely fallen for you. He’ll resort to just hold conversations here and there, and then overthink every little thing you said and how your facial expressions changed ever so lightly.

Although, he will become incredibly nervous whenever you’re near him. On the outside, Giyu seems nonchalant and maybe even slightly annoyed about you sitting close to him during the meetings, but on the inside, Giyu’s heart is racing and his head will be spinning, his thoughts going one thousand miles per hour. His hand will be gripping his thighs or forearms tightly in an attempt to calm himself.

Sometimes, Giyu will try to hang out with you, asking if he could eat together with you or train alongside you. He will be quiet for the whole duration of the hang-out and will only answer your questions as short as possible. You two will be having a lot of dry conversations at first.

Giyu also thinks that he is not even worth to be loved by you. You’re such an incredibly strong hashira and appreciated by so many people, surely you have already someone else in mind you’d like to date. Anyone but him.

He soon realises that Sanemi has been paying more attention to you lately. He asked to train with you more often and then inviting you to grab something to eat afterwards. Giyu saw how Sanemi’s eyes would soften up ever so slightly and how his pupils dilated. He looked more content around you, wich is rare for the wind hashira.

Giyu felt a wave of sadness wash over him. Sanemi would probably have more of a chance with you than him. He’s stronger, more handsome, and probably be a better lover overall. Giyu tries to tell himself that it’s over and that he has no chance and should move on, but for some reason he wants to keep going. Giyu wants you and he’ll try his best to win you over. Even if he has to compete with Sanemi.

“Do you want to go eat Salmon Daikon with me? It’s okay if you’re already busy, I’ll go on my own if you are.”

💚 Sanemi Shinazugawa 💚

Sanemi, after realising that he fell for you, would be very angry at himself for letting his emotions go loose like this. He hated himself for it and got extremely rude to you whenever you tried striking up a conversation with him. He was trying to push you away from himself in order to shield himself from potential heartbreak and to protect you from himself. Sanemi knows he’s not a good person and he does not deserve you. He’ll be a bad influence for you anyway.

But after a while, Sanemi began to accept his feelings and calm himself. He apologised to you for being unreasonably rude and started giving you small gifts as some sort of apology. Instead of presenting them to you, Sanemi shoved the small gift box into your hands and would leave as quickly as he came.

Slowly but surely, Sanemi began to hang out with you more. He’d invite you to spar with him and afterwards maybe go out for a bite. But he’s only asking because you’re such a strong hashira and he’d like to train with you! No other reason.

Sanemi is trying to become a better man for you. He’s becoming kinder and more talkative, trying to open up more and more. He even showed you the rhino beetles he’s raising. Sanemi never showed or mentioned them at all. It was kind of cute how childishly excited he got when showing them off.

Sanemi only realised that Giyu is interested in you as well after one time where you rejected to hang out with Sanemi, explaining that you already had plans with Giyu. He grumbled and stomped off, fuming in anger. You wanted to hang out with that prick? Giyu thinks he’s better than everyone, why do you talk to that weirdo?

Sanemi gets very jealous of Giyu very quickly, giving him nasty side-eyes from across the training grounds whenever he sees you eating lunch with him or just simply talking to him. Oh how he just wants to beat this guy up.

So, Sanemi tries to be faster than him. He’ll ask you out days in advance if you want to train with him and went even as far as sending Kagaya a letter, asking to be send on missions alongside you more often, arguing that your and his breathing technique are compatible and you two work so well together.

He was attempting to badmouth Giyu in order to have more of a chance with you, but quickly realised that just made you upset with him, so he’ll try to restrain himself.

“Hey, wanna go grab some snacks tomorrow? I’m craving udon for some reason.”

“Why do you keep asking her to hang out, huh? You wanna hog all her free time?!”

“You have been asking her to her to join you for almost every day now. I would like to hang out with her some time.”

“Bullshit. You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, dipshit.”

“Giyu? Sanemi? What are you two arguing about?”

“Nothin’.”

“….”

💠

This was so fun! Thanks for reading! My requests are open for both the hashira and the demons, so don’t be shy to request something <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

Here’s my masterlist for the hashira

Here’s my masterlist for the demons

#💠 house of vry 💠#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny x reader #demon slayer hashira #fluff #sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x y/n #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x reader #kny giyuu #giyuu tomioka #demon slayer giyuu #kimetsu giyuu

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melissa-titanium · 2 months ago

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my concept for the main espers' projection forms cause i personally do not care for the idea that they all look like shige's... i think they'd vary in size, opacity, and brightness depending on the potency of their abilities & how they awakened. sho's has no notes because i dont know if im gonna keep his

shige's is completely malleable, but the brightest out of all of them. completely opaque, you'd think he's a solid object until you try to touch him. he looks a little ragged/worse for wear, with wide, perpetually petrified eyes -- my personal interpretation of what its like to have all of that power pushed down for so long... it cant stay down forever. every single 100% meltdown resulted in those frayed edges/tendrils and the odd wrinkled texture his lines have. also he's not exclusively Critterified, unlike ltierally every other esper he can actively morph into looking like a human of some sort (bipedal, longer arms, like he does in the manga) sniles

terus is kind of self explanatory. a note i didn't add -- he changes his visual texture like a chameleon, kind of blending into his surroundings. if he's hovering above water, he's goopy. if he's inside a cloud, hes poofy. if he's . idk. on a log or some shit he'll get all grainy. hes also SUPER bright but like, very obviously see-through. he only has one beady little eye because. haha. nel's teru rose tinted lenses metaphor. He Cannort see shit. his textures ALSO change based on emotions

ritsu is a small funny little thing. a lot of his design is based off of a prey animal of some kind. its meant to be a metaphor for how he percieves himself next to shige but im too tired to properly dissect it honestly. since "spoon bending" is such an important aspect of his powers and one of the biggest representations of his inferiority complex... he has a little spoon tail! i also believe the projections form themselves based off of the earliest days of awakening, and since there was that whole sequence of ritsu throwing the spoon & getting upset at ekubo and bending a shit ton of spoons. boom. shabam. spoon shit. theres more but iiiiiiiiiiiiiii. Forgot

and sho. i dont have notes for him. i honestly just thought a little flying bug would be cool because i kind of took the absolute basic aspects of how i percieve his character ("with great power comes great responsibility" "gentle" "afraid of those he loves" "ride or die kinda guy") plus his powers (invisibility, energy storage, the implementation of his wrestling skill into his attacks) and thought. bug. specifically some kind of ant because of the shot of him watching a bunch of ants scuttle around in the one flashback with his mama. the more i think about it i think some kinda beetle would be more fitting for him? but i think ant is funnier. ill def work more on it later.

#mel scribblies #anelysis #mp100

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goodlucktai · 4 months ago

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What if I said 10 & 20 as portal duo thanks so much

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

+ 20. “Get away! You’re hurting them!”

for my beloved meeks

They weren’t supposed to be here. It’s stupid, but it’s the first thing that springs to Mikey’s mind.

Leo had only recently graduated with honors from those initial grueling physical therapy sessions that usually ended in tears (not always Leo’s) to daily exercises that got easier and easier until he was breezing through them the way he used to breeze through everything.

If he went farther than two steps away from his arm crutches Donnie appeared out of thin air looking ready to breathe fire at him, and Raph was in the habit now of holding Leo out at arm’s length immediately after every hug in the manner of scruffing an unruly kitten to double-check he was wearing his leg brace and compression sleeve, and Mikey had learned the hard way what everyone meant when they said medics make the absolute worst patients.

But for the most part Leo was doing really good! He was hitting all his marks and only driving everyone a tiny bit insane—well within the allotted Leo amount!

So when he had smiled that crooked, conspiring smile at Mikey the minute the coast was clear and said, “There’s no better strengthening exercise then sneaking out with my favorite little brother for a past-due victory smoothie,” what was Mikey supposed to tell him? No??

It did occur to him, a tiny little guilty whisper. Leo was healing. He’d been so badly hurt. Even Splinter, who spoiled Leonardo rotten, hadn’t given into the slider’s constant pleas to rush the recovery process along. They were going by the book. Literally, since Donatello had stepped up as team medic in the interim. Don and Raph and April and even Casey were all very good at not bending an inch no matter how many tragic looks got sent their way. Mikey wasn’t very good at that at all.

And anyway, joy had drowned out that whisper with a shout. He lit up with it, that newly-discovered supernova inside him curling up like a happy cat in a patch of sunshine. There’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how old he gets, or how powerful his mystic arts become—he’ll always be Michelangelo, and Michelangelo will follow Leonardo absolutely anywhere.

So he said, “I’ll get my hoodie!” and darted out the door with zero ninja stealth, clipping his shoulder on the frame and almost crashing into the table in the hall. Leo laughed behind him, and the unrestrained sound made Mikey feel like he could float. Maybe he actually did for a second or two.

He’ll never forget those horrible minutes after the portal closed, after Leo’s comms went dead, when he had wondered if he would ever hear his brother’s voice again. When he wondered what, exactly, his last words to Leo had been—they almost certainly weren’t I love you or please don’t leave so they didn’t count.

To make up for it, he wanted to tell Leo everything every chance he got. He wanted to make him laugh all the time. He wanted to crowd into the little twin-size infirmary bed to watch movies or do art projects that got glitter everywhere. He wanted to sneak out for smoothies even though it would get them in big trouble, because that was literally why he helped save the world in the first place.

And now he’s standing in a dim sidestreet, an orange streetlight buzzing dully above him, two smoothies melting in his hands. It’s their usual shortcut home, through a bunch of foreclosed apartment buildings and a dead end road. Leonardo is in front of him, shoulders stiff, ninpo humming weakly beneath his skin like a tired little beetle that shouldn’t be up from hibernation just yet.

Across the road are half a dozen humans in what looks like riot gear labeled TCRI and a man in a black suit. The man somehow looks more dangerous than the people in police armor.

“Leo,” Mikey says in a small voice. His brother doesn’t answer, but he does shift his weight to put Mikey more firmly behind him, which is answer enough.

And Mikey thinks, We weren’t supposed to be here. No one knows where we are.

The man in the suit starts talking into the bulky earpiece he’s wearing, but Mikey can’t make out what he’s saying over the buzzing of the streetlamp and the pounding of his own heart in his ears. All he hears is Leonardo murmur, “Mikey, go.”

“No,” Mikey’s mouth says automatically. It doesn’t even need any input from his brain to say it. Because no.

“Mike,” Leo says, in his best leader voice. But his tone is urgent in a way that borders on being scared so closely it must mean he’s actually terrified, or he would never have let Mikey hear even a hint of it. “I’d go with you if I could. I’m sorry I can’t.”

His hands tighten on his crutches. He can’t run. He’s still healing. He should be at home, doing his exercises with those little pink dumbbells in the warmth and safety of the lair, complaining the whole time in between tossing out ideas for dinner.

Mikey should have said no to sneaking out the way Donnie and Raphie would have instantly said no. He should be better at taking care of Leo the way he needs to be taken care of, the way everyone else does so easily.

The armored people start to shift to the side, moving around Mikey and Leo in a wide formation, hands on the guns holstered at their waists. Containing them. The man in the suit is still talking, face inscrutable behind the tinted glasses he’s wearing, but his face hasn’t twitched away from their direction even once.

“Hey,” Leo says, bringing Mikey’s attention back. “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

He’s smiling over his shoulder like it’s any other back-alley brawl with the mutant of the week or a handful of those Foot soldiers who never know when to quit, and not a horrible high-stakes situation in which Mikey stands to lose one of the most important things in the entire world if he makes the wrong move.

“Just get home and get the guys, okay? Then come right back for me. You can outrun these goons without breaking a sweat. You can do anything.”

Mikey drops the smoothies and the cold wet soaks through one of his sneakers instantly but he needs his hands free so he can clutch the back of Leo’s stupid hoodie. He needs to hold on tight and make sure whoever tries to take his brother away knows exactly what kind of knock-down drag-out fight they’re in for.

“I don’t care,” Mikey says, too loud in the stillness. “I’m not leaving you.”

He wishes he were a snapper like Raphie. If he was big and strong and had a shell that was as good as bulletproof armor, he’d scoop Leonardo up and shield him from the guns and run them both away.

If he was a genius like Donnie, he’d have one or a dozen gadgets on his person that would have saved them.

But he’s just Mikey, who isn’t big and strong, who isn’t a genius, who isn’t one of the people Leonardo is willing to step down and be weak in front of and depend on. Just Mikey, who Leo saved all his best jokes for during painful rehab, like it mattered to him that Mikey didn’t see him struggle. Just Mikey, who Leo always lifts both arms for the second he sees him coming and squishes into the world’s best hug, even if he’s pissed off at everybody else. Just Mikey, who Leo wants to get better for, be the best for, be one of the constant things on this planet Mikey never needs to doubt, like gravity and sunrise and overpriced street food.

Because there’s a very big part of him that will always be what it’s always been, no matter how mature he gets, or how accomplished a ninja master he becomes—he’ll always be Leonardo, and Leonardo would do anything to make sure Michelangelo keeps smiling.

Leo is also very stupid, because he doesn’t seem to understand that Mikey will never smile again if his big brother goes away.

When the TCRI agents explode forward at some signal Mikey missed, and grab the brothers and drag them apart, Leo stumbles and falls when his crutches are wrenched away. He’d probably be making a smart-ass comment if his jaw wasn’t clenched, the sudden fall probably radiating pain all the way up his spine, distress making his gold eyes burn neon yellow.

Like a flip was switched, all the panic inside of Mikey evaporates into a red-tinged mist.

The supernova inside him sleeps most of the time, because he’s not big enough to contain its multitudes yet, and it doesn’t want to cause pain. It only wants to shine light in dark places, it only wants to help. But it wakes up with a fury and fills every inch of him to the brim and the overflow spills right out of him, lifts him right off the ground, makes his voice a resounding thunderclap when he yells, “GET AWAY! You’re hurting him!”

Staggering back and shouting in alarm, the agents begin firing, because humans in a panic are trigger-happy creatures, even well-trained ones like these guys must be. Every round fired disintegrates the second it meets the glow pouring out of Mikey, disappearing before it can do harm.

“Holy shit,” Leo says, eyes wide. It’s the way Mikey imagines he probably looked at Leo, when everyone else feared Raphael was a lost cause but Leo put his hand on Mikey’s shoulder and told him, I’m not giving up on him. I’m not leaving him behind. A sailor lost in a storm and their first glimpse of the lighthouse in the dark, close enough to save them.

“Hold your fire!” the man in the black suit barks suddenly, his voice viciously angry. “I did not clear any of you to fire!”

Mikey doesn’t care who the scary Men In Black guy is, or what reason he has for tracking Mikey and his brother down, or why he’s calling the dogs off now. He cares about helping Leo get back on his feet, scooping the crutches up off the ground and getting Leo’s arms in them, and staring right into Agent Sunglasses’s stupid face while the supernova burns and burns and burns inside him.

Try it, he doesn’t say. Just try it. If the Krang couldn’t take my brother from me, what hope do you think you have?

He feels Leo’s arm slip around his, locking them together at the elbow. Leo’s ninpo, a soft breeze instead of the playful gale it’s supposed to be, weaves through Mikey’s own to lead it.

‘Like this,’ the wind tells the sunburst, guiding it through the process it wants it to take the same way bigger hands used to guide a smaller Mikey through katas, readjusting his arms and poking him playfully on the beak when he scrunched it in frustration. The golden portal that opens beneath their feet costs him nothing, appearing as effortlessly as Leo’s spinning blue ones always do.

The agent’s face goes slack with shock the second before the turtles disappear.

They land on the sofa with enough force that it almost collapses, and Leo makes a pained noise, hands pressed to his plastron like he’s trying to contain a full-body ache with sheer willpower. Mikey scrambles off of him and falls off the sofa for his trouble. His clothes are prickly, like he’s covered in static electricity. A magazine left on the coffee table begins to move, pages flipping as if in a breeze. One of the beanbag chairs lifts up slightly, like gravity has gotten lighter in that specific spot.

He feels too big for himself. There are multitudes inside him, a million different things that are all true at the same time. He’s still so angry, and he’s still so afraid, and he’s still just Mikey, who couldn’t be what Leo needed him to be until the last possible second.

Just Mikey, who Leo saves his best smile for. Just Mikey, who Leo hugs like it’s the easiest thing in the world to bring another person that close and trust them right next to his heart.

“You’re the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen,” Leo says, like it’s another truth Mikey can keep for as long as he wants. Forever, even.

There will be hell to pay when their brothers get home. There’s a brand-new danger their family needs to be made aware of. Leo tried to leave him behind again and it reopened a wound that was still raw and healing.

But for now that wild star in his heart doesn’t need to burn so bright. It can put all the furniture that began to float back down and go back to sleep. And Mikey can press his face into the cracked print of Leo’s favorite Chappell Roan hoodie and say, “Hope you enjoyed your last taste of freedom for the next hundred years.”

Leo laughs, but doesn’t let go of Mikey right away. He clings extra hard for an extra long minute.

He would have left, Mikey realizes, but he didn’t want to go. When he was alone on the Technodrome, staring down a monster and a portal and the truth of how to save everyone, he didn’t want to go. If there was any other choice, he would have taken it. He would have come home.

Mikey isn’t Leo, who will do what he has to do no matter what it costs himself. Mikey isn't Raph or Donnie. Mikey is and always has been the spoiled baby of the family, who will do exactly what he wants to do and damn the consequences. He’ll tear a thousand holes open in the universe if that’s what it takes to keep his family together, and if the Hamato ancestors don’t like it then they can come and take their ninpo back.

They can try, anyway.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #portal duo #hamato michelangelo #hamato leonardo #my writing #tmnt fic #prompt #mykimouser #this kind of jumps all over the place but im accepting it for what it is

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