#she can be satisfied with just biting until you break skin. but if you can handle more...

[von-eldritch]

@hazbinhive said: ♡♡♡ blinks

Can't win her heart if she doesn't have one

//Surprise her! Hellsa is good at reading people, which makes a lot of the people she meets very predictable, and that bores her. If you manage to surprise her, even just once, it lets her know you have some depth that might be worth exploring.

Ask her to dance. Hellsa loves dancing in any and every context and can never get enough of it. Slow or fast, it is exceedingly rare that she would deny someone who asked to dance with her, even if she might otherwise hate them.

Be violent. This doesn't necessarily mean towards her, but it doesn't not mean towards her either. Hellsa's a monster, the lines between bloodlust and actual lust are a little blurred for her. If you can stomach carving into her (and having the same be done to you, she will lose interest otherwise), great. If you can't (and most can't), at least do it to other people.

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Five

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Four

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Warnings: Pregnancy, Yandere themes, Fem!Reader, made up lore, Guns (Rubber bullets), mentions of termination, Bruce being really delusional, Conner being a bit of a creep, 3.2k words oops

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You can feel your heart rate rising and the blood rushing to your head so fast that you nearly grow lightheaded once again.

Multiple things happen after Bruce says those words, but you don’t care. Too focused on not launching yourself out of Conner’s arms and tearing into Bruce with your teeth. An effort you know would be futile, but how goddamn satisfying would it feel for his skin to break under those blunt teeth of yours? Very.

“Excuse me?” The words leave your lips before anyone else can utter a word.

“Bruce.” You’d even beaten Superman with your rage, but you shot him a glare of your own. Making his pause his attempt at playing peacemaker in this situation.

“Stay out of this, Kent.” You'd almost be disturbed by how much you sounded like Damian when he was annoyed with his friend. But, Clark wasn't your friend in this situation and you were willing to find out if he had a spine of steel at that moment with all the spitefulness bubbling on your tongue.

It’s a struggle, but you shove out of Conner’s arms and start to storm near Bruce. Not too close. No, you won’t get close enough for him to hurt you ever again. “Listen here you bat-mad-motherfucker—“

“Language.” The man interrupts.

The man being being Bruce fucking Wayne.

Bruce would admit he was a stubborn, but most importantly he was a paranoid and terrified person deep down. Possibly a fool with how enraged you were looking at him. But, this wasn’t pride controlling his actions. This was fear.

Memories of the stress Lois was under while pregnant with Jon. How sick she had looked. How he had been more than willing to help Clark then, but how foolish he thought the man was for putting someone he apparently loved in such a high risk situation.

All the statistical data he had memorized over the years from just regular pregnancies and their risk. Of the horror stories of mothers dying in hospital beds. Even flashes of his own mother's face when he had asked once for a sibling as a child only to see he smile with devastation hidden behind the same eyes she shared with you about how he was enough.

Later he had found the records. Ectopic pregnancy. Hysterectomy. He was lucky he had her until that luck ran out in that alleyway. She never spoke of it either. She didn't even mention it to Alfred or anyone Which made him ache and fear more.

But, now the ghost of her was standing in front of him like he was the gunman that night and glaring him down with a furry that he sometimes saw only in his darkest moments in puddles left on the Gotham pavement after long nights.

“I’ll say it in French if I have too. There is no we in this situation. Just me and my child. You are not included in this. None of the family is included in this.” As you berate into him he finds himself holding on to his fear. Clinging to it the same way he clings to the notions that your his little girl and he needs to keep you safe from the world.

“What you're carrying is partially Kryptonian fetus from an—“

“I don’t fucking care if this child was part Xenomorph. You have no say. No, God damn, say.” There's an awkward laugh from someone at the thought, but whoever it came from bites their lips and chokes it down.

“It’s dangerous.” Bruce finds himself insisting. It’s not about controlling you. He swears it isn’t.

“They’re my baby.” But, you’re his baby.

“You’re being irrational.” The argument spirals.

“You’re being an asshole.” Immature, yet true. He never claimed he wasn’t. But, he’ll bend logical to his will to protect you.

“You need to think clearly. This could jeopardize your health, your life, your safety. That thing is dangerous.” Bruce takes a step in your direction, only to watch as you take a step back.

“That thing is your fucking grandson.” Don’t say that. Don’t tell him what it is. It could hurt you, please don’t make him love it. Don’t make him remember that he didn’t get to hold you.

“I say no.”

“And I say you have no fucking say.”

“I am your father, you will-“ Wrong thing to say, because words start spilling from your mouth like a thousand little cuts. Biting insults and feelings that he suspected you had hidden, but didn’t expect you to hit him with like this.

“You’re just an asshole that fucked my mother. And, newsflash, you ain’t the only one that did that. Hell, I bet you weren’t even the best one at it. You’re just the only one that left something stuck inside her and nine months later I popped out for you to ignore.”

Each word of your anger feels justified in your mind . Nothing was off limits as the libel escaped your lips. Bubbling out of you chest was harsh words that you’d bottled up, but hormones fucked with your control and they slid off your tongue with ungodly ease as tears bubbled in your eyes.

"You chose Batman and Gotham over me.” You murmur. The sick realization you had that day he appeared into your life. He had known. Known about you existence. But, he left you. He had all the resources available to just... check on you. To let you know he at least somewhat cared. And, he didn’t.

“You think I didn't realize that when you showed up at Momma and Daddy's funeral to whisky me away to your haunted mansion? You could have come for me at any point in time. You can't say you didn't know I existed. You've just been really damn good at ignoring me."

Your own heart aching as you practically shout at him. Feeling like a little girl waiting for her dad to give her attention even though you’re not. Not anymore.

"But, I accepted that less than five months after moving into this empty house you keep on top of your real goddamn home." You remind yourself, you’re not a little girl. Even as you spin in that gave to show off what he had picked over you.

You already had a father. And, it wasn’t Bruce Wayne even if blood said otherwise.

"You didn't get to act like you have a say in my life now, if ever again. I'm grown. And, I will pick my son over you. Every. Single. Time. I want to be this child's mother more than I have ever wanted to be your daughter." The words true and concrete as you let your feeling pour out of you like a faucet. And, you look up, meeting the his gaze and you see…

He has that same stupid stoic expression.

And, that fills you with rage.

“You have a whole life ahead of you. Why are you risking it for a mis—“

“Don’t you dare fucking finish that sentence!” You snarl, moving to grab one of Jason’s guns from his thigh hostler in a surprising show of speed. Startling him and the rest of the family observing the absolute shit show going on in stunned silence.

There’s a few gasp and intakes of breath. But, everyone, including you, know it’s loaded with rubber bullets.

“If you dare call them that! Not unless you're willing to admit I was one too!” You hold it pointed at him. But, he doesn’t flinch. Doesn't even rise to your challenge.

Bruce, strangely, feels proud in this moment. Your conviction reminds him of his own. Reminds him of his mother. Reminds him of your mother. He knows he’s not going to change your mind. He knows he’s going to have to accept that.

But, he has to try one last time. You just don’t understand how dangerous this is.

“It’s too—“

You don’t let him finish, you lower the gun. Look him dead in the eyes and fire.

Normally, Bruce could handle a rubber bullet. He’s fought unpredictable criminals that play dirty all the time. He was prepared to expect anything from his children even.

He didn’t expect you to shoot him in the dick though.

“Oh, my god…”

“She shot the Batpole!”

“Jason, how strong are those bullet?!”

“She didn’t even aim!”

“Pregnant women are terrifying…”

Bruce can barely keep his composure as he feels his knees weaken. He may have been wearing his suit, armor and cup sewn in. But, that still hurt like a bitch.

But, it didn’t hurt as much as the way you looked at him before your next words made his world fall apart.

“I will be moving out soon.” You said, loudly. Announcing a fact, one that you refused to let anyone object too. The only sound after was Jason’s gun clattering to the floor as you carelessly let it drop from your hands and left. Without looking back.

Bruce swore, for all his screw ups, for all his miscalculations and fears that made him human, he’d get you back and keep you safe. And, if it meant you had your son in your arms, so be it. Besides, a baby might be good for the family.

Though as his eyes met Clark's he realized, this was going to be a new kind of battle all together.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You made it back to your room and collapsed in exhaustion as the intense emotions started to wear off and leave you feeling empty. Only for that to last for six minutes before Stephanie was in your room.

You hadn’t even heard her knock. But, you weren’t surprised.

“You’re leaving?” Her shock over the matter was more astonishing to you. After all that, that was her concern?

"Honestly Steph, are you really that surprised I want to leave the manor?" You ask in disbelief as you slowly sit up on the mattress as look at her. Your hoodie has done well at covering your bump, but as you adjusted it was more noticeable. Though there was no point in hiding it now.

"Yes. Alright, maybe not. I just thought we were friends now." She tries to find the right way to describe the thoughts running through her mind. She doesn’t want to lose you. She just got you.

"We are. But, do we really have to be housemates for that?"

"No, but I'm just worried about you and the baby." It’s ease to come up with the explanation. Gotham is dangerous. Living alone would be dangerous. You need help. You need her.

"We'll be fine."

"But--"

"We will be fine." You interrupt, more firmly. Giving her a glare. The emotions from your confrontation with Bruce still apparent. Words still desperately wanting to be said.

"Look, I'm gonna be honest here. As a family, y'all are… unreliable. As Gotham vigilantes, y'all have actually done more for me." You try to reign in your temper. Stephanie really had become your friend and support in this place. But, it was too late for you to want to stay.

"Asking me to stay and raise my son in an empty house… That's too much. Plus you heard Bruce. He wants be to just get rid of my son. Like-- Like he doesn't matter. Like he's a thing. He's mine. My baby. I don't care what you say, but I can't forgive that."

"He didn't mean that you know." Even as Stephanie said the words, she could tell you have no faith in them.

"It doesn't mater that he didn't mean that. What matters is that he thought it so strongly that he still said it out loud. And, considering how few words the man has said to my in my entire life, I'm taking that to heart." Your words echo with finality, like that was the end of the argument.

For Stephanie though, it wasn’t. She knew that it wasn’t the end. She knew they’d pull you back. And, they would. It was inevitable. She knew Bruce wouldn’t let you go and that if you were this vulnerable everyone would do whatever it took to keep you safe.

After sending Stephanie away with the excuse you needed a nap, you were more than ready to fall into a fitful sleep and drool into your pillow without care when you got a knock at the door.

You gave it a sharp look. Considering how pissed you were at everything, you would’ve have torn anyone apart for disturbing you.

It just so happened that the person disturbing you was some one you physically could tear apart because they were part fucking Kryptonian and appearing in your door way with a stupid fucking apologetic smile.

“So… We should probably—“ Conner starts in that stupid voice of his. Everything about him stupid to you right now. His hair. His eyes. The way he’s bicep is flexing as he scratches the back of his head in a self-conscious manner. That doesn’t make your mouth water. Not at all. Pregnancy did that. You swear.

“What makes you think I have anything to say to you?” You quickly snap at him. Not wanting to hear his excuses.

Already he’s bringing out those stupid puppy eyes that make you want to bend over— no. Bad thought.

“I—“

“Wipe that damn pitiful expression off your face. You aren’t gonna give me some bullshit excuses about you being drunk—“ You know he couldn’t get drunk. And, if he somehow miraculously did, he’d do it with his team or with people he trusted. Not show up at some Gotham party. You didn’t need to be Batman’s spawn to deduce that.

“You’re right. You’re right…” Conner sighs, rubbing his hands over his face as he steps towards you trying to hide the way he shakes.

It’s so subtle that you miss it. But, he’s so fucking satisfied right now. So ecstatic about you carrying his baby. The fact that it’s a boy. The fact that you literally shot Batman for his son.

The way you look so good lying there in front of him with that sleepy pissed off expression makes him want to fall to his knees and kiss his way up from your legs to your lips. Let him feel how soft you’ve become. Let him feel what he did to you.

“I just… I was there. I heard you complaining and I thought I’d check on you. And, you— You are a very clingy drunk.” He does attempt to explain, honestly. But, he’s too enthralled right now.

“And, let me guess, you just couldn’t resist.”

“No. I couldn’t.” Conner wouldn’t lie to you. Not if he could help it. “Even if I had the willpower of a Green Lantern or the discipline of a damn monk, I couldn’t have.” He murmurs with rough honesty as he inches towards you.

“You have no idea how deeply you make me feel. I know it was wrong. I gave myself a million excuses. That you weren’t that drunk. That we’re good enough friends that we wouldn’t regret it. That you might— Feel the same about me…” God, the way your eyes widen and your breath hitches has him feeling lightheaded. Your heart speeds up and he can hear it.

“You’re talking like you’re in love with me.” Your tone is spiteful, even though the emotions in your chest are mixed.

“Yeah, I am. And?” Fuck, this is not how he ever wanted to confess. But, it’s not like he can contain it much longer. Not when he’s so close to having everything he wanted right in his grasp.

“I’m not scared of saying it. I’m scared of scaring you. Of being kept away from you. Of not being about to hear your heartbeat every day, letting me know you’re alive. That you’re somewhere in this word giving me a reason to exist.” He pleads, he grovels. He knows it was wrong.

He didn’t mean to take advantage of you. He’d thought you’d remember. Remember how he made love to you. How he had spent that entire night leaving gentle bites across your skin and holding you so close he nearly bruised your skin.

You can feel your eye’s prickling with tears again. Seeing his stupid face. Hearing his stupid voice.

“Just— Just get out!” You snap, unable to handle the mixture of feelings. The way your heart is aching, breaking, and repairing itself.

“Out! Out!” You yell, throwing one of your pillows at him.

“Okay. Okay. We’ll talk later. Just rest, please. You need it. For you and our baby, sweetheart.” He murmurs, clutching the pillow in his hand as he steps back and lets you have your space.

You grumble and glare as he leaves. Wondering if you offended him by wanting to be alone as you angrily curl in your bed.

You don’t see him standing outside your door. Shoving his face into the pillow you’d thrown at him and inhaling your scent. Noting the subtle ways it’s changed in his absence and how he can’t wait to bury his nose in the crook of your neck again.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You had woken from your nap, feeling the frustrating urge to pee. A common feeling you were growing uncomfortably familiar with as you moved further along in your pregnancy. You gently rubbed your bump as you grumbled to the bathroom. Quickly finishing so you could go back to bed. Only, you heard another knock on the door.

Instantly your ire is spiked as you march towards it expecting to tear into Bruce or Conner, only to be taken aback when you see Dick. Standing there with a soft look. Not unlike Conner’s stupid look earlier.

"Hey…"

"What do you want, Dick?" You’re half tempted to shut the door in his face.

"Easy now." Now you’re seventy-five percent tempted to shut the door in his face.

"I really don't want a big brother lecture from you or anyone right now. So disappear or whatever. You just as bad as—"

"I'm not here to lecture you." He quickly interrupts, knowing that your next words would hurt. Which, he'd let you hurt him. Not because you were special or anything. He's let anyone in this family hurt him to make themselves feel better. But, you had never tried and he could tell you were aching. Making it a little easier for him to want to take every bit of damage from you.

"Well, that's nice." Was you dry response before you looked back at him with suspicion. "Did Bruce send you?"

"No." He answered, technically honest. Dick may have suggested the idea to Bruce on the premise that you needed a space to cool off before you did end up in some shady apartment on the other side of Gotham. And, Bruce may have approved of his plan. But, he was already going to go through with it regardless.

"I'm here to make you an offer."

"And, what sort of thing could you offer me? You don't exactly have a lot of experience with this sorta thing last I checked." Comes your sharp retort, expecting some fake concern or him trying to play peacemaker.

But, when you hear his actually offer, you’re stunned.

"Come stay at my apartment in Bludhaven."

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Taglist:

@bunbunboysworld @ellaprime7 @bad4amficideas @victoria1676 @nebulousmoon3990 @n-lol @ellelabelle @vanessa-boo @twinklingbeautifulstars @wisefuncherryblossom @mybones537 @pato-spoiler-27 @darktrashpoetry @kitkatkitmeow @eyeless-kun @love-zami @cloudserenity @roseapov @nommingonfood @minkyungseokie @nervousalpacalady @allycat4458 @shadowytravelerlover @faimmm @otterluver05 @ousama-tobio @gabbiegabbie24 @timotheechalametswifeys @princessninii @sweetsugerskull @exactlynumberonekryptonite @sillysealsies @caged-birdies-blog @sirenetheblogger @wpdarlingpan @h0neysiba @jjsmeowthie @00hellohello00 @agsggebhzgehkfisnx @agsggebhzgehkfisnx @misokins @chenlelover @twismare @ssak-i @tacodeemon @momentomoribitch @redkarmakai @couldeatthatgirlforlunch @heyitsaloy @grossstinkygoblin @sg-obsessedfreak @anakilusmos @alittletiredcry @stargirl404 @bath1lda @kittzu @numbu5 @stickyricewithmangosauce @nessielovesfood @atanukileaf @sukaretto-n @nommingonfood @bunniotomia @jensenacklestoothpick @jellystar-star @calicocat-ina-tuxedo @yl90 @angelbelles @jayjayjayson @quotesandanime @sleepyghoster @sheep-from-rad @obsessedwithromance @ferchu0406 @insomniaallnight @simpingfor-wakasa @radiantdanvers @yuyuzi-ling @lunayaps @fantasyhopperhea @fae26 @butterflycardigann @bycstop @ddeliajo @justanerd1 @haniyaasads @bellethesleepypotato @izarosf1833 @izarosf1833 @alwaysholymilkshake @iamapotatoe @cxcilla @revelintales @nuttyrebelflower @sra7riddle-malfoy @obsessedwithfanfiction @pearlyribbons @creat0r-cat @nickey-diano @craulo13 @moonstonedust24 @anamiranda7383 @fto6 @burningkittenprince @senhoritaapple @plus-ultra-girl @oliviaewl @dragons-h0ard @1abi @lonely-star2044 @smiller975 @feedthefandoms995 @wpdarlingpan @type-ink @91-kya @lovebug-apple @cqerrz @zomqiez @hearts4mica @godoreo22 @wonderlace19 @bi-forest-fire @rainschnael @hopingtoclearmedschool @lover-girl009 @doggyteam2028 @shinning-stars @vrsin @k-sv @unearthlykara @biscuitsx @sleepy-sapphic-hooman @needstotouch-grass @ashxmulti

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A/N: I think the taglist is getting kinda long, I don't know if I should close it.

A/N: So, yeah. I've been letting this marinate for a while because I felt like words weren't enough to make Bruce pay. We needed action consistent with Reader's character. (I laughed for two days after the idea of shooting Bruce in the dick struck me.) Also, we really getting into the creepy bits now. Been mentally playing with my spidersona and the Batfam while trying to my energy levels back up post treatment. Plus, May is just a really busy month for me.

Ko-fI Link

[yasministration]

Occupied dorm - Remus lupin

summary: potter!reader x remus secret relationship au! When Lily gets sick of the commotion in the common room, she is locked out of her dorm because you are occupying it. wc: 1k+

James tucked a strand of Lily’s hair behind her ear, a look of adoration on his face despite the annoyed glare she adorned. The common room had become too loud, and contrary to popular belief, Lily despised the library. “Great Hall?” James suggested, smiling softly at her. Lily shook her head. “There’s that annoying group of ravenclaw girls who spend all day giggling.” James laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender when Lily’s glare was suddenly aimed at him. “Well what about your dorm?” Lily huffed, shaking her head again. She really should have said no when you asked if you could occupy it for the next couple of hours. “Your sister’s in there.” 

“So?”

“We can’t.”

“Oh. Is she with who I think she’s with?” 

Yes.

You loudly moaned into the pillow in front of you, Remus grinding into your hips from the back, his hands guiding you back onto his cock. Your hips were propped up using a pillow, and Remus groaned into the air, throwing his head back as he shut his eyes tightly. “Fuck, that’s nice.” You whined at Remus’s words, hugging the pillow you dug your head into it.

Remus winced at the ache in his bones, readjusting himself so he lay nearly flat on top of you, only holding himself up by his forearms, on either side of your head. His pace was slow, pushing into you until his balls connected with your ass, where he’d pause for a short break before dragging out again. The full moon had only passed two days ago and Remus hadn’t fully recovered, but you’d barely walked out of the hospital wing before Remus was tugging you up to your dorm, his head in the crook of your neck pressing hungry kisses against your skin as he begged you to let him fuck you. Obviously, you were more than happy to fulfil his wishes. 

Remus moved some hair away from your face, and he whispered in your ear "Let me see you, sweetheart." You whined at his words, arching your back with a gasp as his cock brushed against your cervix. "Please." He begged, his voice hitching. You dug your face out of the pillow, laying your head on the side so Remus could finally see your face. He moaned softly, pressing his lips to your cheek multiple times as he continued rocking his hips back and forth. "Lips" You pleaded, puckering your lips for Remus to finally kiss. When your lips connected, you sighed in pleasure, one hand coming up to cup your boyfriend’s cheek. Remus broke the kiss only to peck your lips again, a satisfied noise escaping his lips.

You pushed your hips back to connect with Remus’s pelvis and he gasped loudly, still oversensitive after the full moon. "Fuck, I’m close." Remus grunted, letting his head drop onto the mattress. "Can I get on top?" You panted, patting Remus on the arm. Remus wordlessly straightened up to pull out with a loud moan, flopping on his back tiredly as he panted. You instantly climbed on top of him, watching as his eyes took your whole body in. Hands were instantly cupping your tits, squeezing softly as you guided his cock to your entrance, slowly sinking down on him. Remus threw his head back, biting at his bottom lip to keep his moans in. You brought a hand up to Remus’s face, caressing his cheek softly. He turned his head to the side to press a kiss to the palm of your hand, looking up at you through heavy lidded eyes. 

You began moving on Remus’s cock, carefully watching his facial expressions. His face was scrunched up in pleasure, eyes tightly shut. You felt bad that he had to go through the pain of every full moon, but seeing him in this position, so needy for your touch just did something for you. You gasped, jumping up at the electric feeling that shot through you. Looking down, you spotted Remus’s fingers between your folds, feeling them rub slowly at your clit. Keening, you sped up your pace, and Remus immediately cursed, his free hand moving to grip your hip. You leaned forward, hungrily pressing your lips to his and Remus immediately parted his lips, making way for your tongue to slither in your mouth.

Remus sped the pace of his fingers, swallowing up your moan, feeling your legs begin to shake. Remus bucked his hips into yours, and you were immediately unravelling on top of him, dropping your weight back down on his cock. Remus’s hips stuttered, and he pulled you down flush against his hips as he released his load into you. You broke the kiss, instead digging your head into the crook of Remus’ neck, biting softly on his skin there. "Shit!" Remus’s hips thrust up into you again, making you cry out as you came down from your orgasmic high, tightly hugging Remus against you. 

Both of you just sat there for a moment, breathing heavily as you caught your breath. You put your hands on Remus’s shoulders, pushing yourself up, and you winced, moving your hips as you pulled yourself off Remus’s dick, landing next to him on the bed. Remus wrapped him arms around you, tugging you into his chest. "That was…" You started, staring off into the dorm. Remus hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "I’m gonna shower and take a nap. Join me?" Remus asked, getting up slowly and putting his clothes back on.

"Why not here?" You questioned, mimicking his movements nonetheless and snaking your hand into his. "Because I’ll be knocked out until the morning." You hummed in acknowledgement, nodding as he lead you out of your dorm. Trudging down the stairs to the common room, you didn’t catch the frown James threw you and Remus, slouching down on the floor and crossing his arms over his chest. Instead, you just continued up to Remus’s dorm, cuddling against him with Sirius’s snores lulling you both to sleep.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes

[wordsmeetwbb]

Messy

Word count: 2.3k

Content: smut, fluff

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: March Paige has inspired me to write! I know all you freaks want more smut so here's something to tide you over until I have time to get something longer out. Unfortunately it's midterm season for me so it might be a minute, but enjoy this in the meantime! Send in the reactions as always!

________

Azzi is fast asleep on Paige’s chest. Her face is relaxed, features soft and peaceful as deep breaths whistle in and out through her lips. Paige is entranced. Her eyes trace Azzi’s jawline, the outline of her lips, the curve of her nose, the gentle arch of her brows, her lashes resting on her cheeks. Paige can’t help herself. She reaches out with the arm that isn’t trapped under Azzi’s body and brushes a brunette curl off Azzi’s forehead. Azzi snuggles closer into Paige’s body.

Then Azzi is shifting again, her eyelids fluttering as she rises to the surface of consciousness. Paige brings one hand up to cup Azzi’s jaw, thumb brushing gently over the soft skin of her cheek. Azzi smiles, eyes still closed. Paige quickly kisses her lips, and the brunette hums in contentment.

“Did you have a good nap, baby?” Paige whispers. Azzi nods and puckers her lips, silently begging for another kiss. And, well, Paige hasn’t been able to say no to Azzi since they met at 15. She’s not going to start now.

Paige kisses Azzi again, more solidly this time but still chaste. Azzi breaks the kiss, not because she wants to but because her smile has stretched too wide to keep kissing her girlfriend.

“What time is it?” Azzi asks. Her voice is heartbreakingly soft. Paige could drown in it.

“No idea. We got time, though. Don’t got anywhere to be today,” Paige murmurs. Azzi nods, satisfied with the answer, and then shifts so that she’s straddling Paige’s hips. Her knees press into the sheets of Paige’s bed as she leans down, pressing barely-there kisses to Paige’s jaw. Paige lets out a sigh and tilts her head back to give the shorter girl more room to work. Azzi laces one hand with Paige’s in thanks as she nibbles on the shell of Paige’s ear. Paige breathes out heavily.

Azzi keeps making her way across Paige’s skin. Her plush lips brush across her girlfriend’s neck gently first before her kisses turn rougher, sucking lightly at the blonde’s pulse point.

“Shit. Feels so good, Az,” Paige praises. Azzi smiles into Paige’s skin and sucks a new mark into the hinge of her jaw. Paige can feel herself getting wet. She knows that by now there must be a dark patch on her gray boxers, just from Azzi’s mouth on her throat. Paige whimpers involuntarily and bucks her hips up, desperate for a little bit of friction.

It makes Azzi moan but doesn’t distract her from her mission to mark up Paige’s skin as much as possible. She’s moved on to dragging her tongue in lines up Paige’s neck. It leaves both of them wet with saliva and more than a little bit turned on.

“So pretty,” Azzi murmurs when she finally pulls back to admire her handiwork. Paige’s neck gleams in the dim light of her bedroom, fresh hickeys dotted around Paige’s jawline and collarbones. Paige’s eyes flutter shut just long enough for Azzi to lean towards the nightstand at the side of Paige’s bed and grab her phone. Her movement stirs Paige from her Azzi-induced haze, and she drags her eyelids open.

Azzi raises her phone and swipes into the camera app, looking for Paige’s nod of approval before taking the picture. The flash lights the room, reflecting off the spit drying on Paige’s neck and catching her blue eyes. Azzi bites her lip and takes another, changing the angle of her phone just slightly. Paige squirms under Azzi’s weight, her pupils blown out even with the light from the camera. Then Azzi giggles, switches her camera to 0.5x, and brings the phone closer to Paige’s face.

Paige scrunches her eyebrows together, pouting as Azzi takes the picture.

“I’m gonna send that to the group chat,” Azzi teases. Paige’s face reddens.

“You can’t! They already think we’re gross,” Paige argues. Azzi grins and turns the phone around to show Paige the picture. The older girl laughs despite herself as she looks at the silly picture. The light from the flash only makes the bruises on her skin look darker, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find it ridiculously hot.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles, eyes still tracing over the marks, the way her skin glistens, the already fucked-out look in her eyes. Azzi hadn’t even touched her yet, and she looked like they’d been at it for hours. Azzi set her phone back on the nightstand, her hips shifting on Paige’s as she moved. Paige threw her head back into the pillow, her hands grabbing at Azzi’s hips and pulling her down against herself more solidly.

Azzi’s eyes flutter, dark lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. She leans down and kisses Paige, licking into her open mouth. Paige feels helpless like this under Azzi. The younger girl’s tongue moves slowly, and their lips drag against each other messily. Paige is already panting when Azzi takes Paige’s bottom lip between her teeth and tugs gently. It pulls a moan from deep within her chest.

Paige moves her hands from Azzi’s hips so that one comes to rest on her ass, squeezing roughly, and the other one slides into Azzi’s curls at the base of her neck. She tugs on her hair gently, knowing it’ll get Azzi even more bothered than she already is, hoping to hurry things along a little bit as Azzi continues to intertwine their tongues.

Azzi whines just like Paige expected, a string of spit trailing between their open mouths. Paige has had enough.

“Gotta fuck you, ‘kay baby?” Azzi nods quickly, her curls bouncing with the action. Paige changes their position smoothly, sliding herself up to rest against the headboard and dragging Azzi back to sit between her legs so her back is against Paige’s chest. “Can I take these off?” Paige asks softly, pulling at the waistband of the shorts Azzi is wearing. Azzi nods again, but it’s not enough for Paige.

“Words, honey,” she prompts.

“Yes, yes, take them off.” Paige smiles and places a gentle kiss on Azzi’s bare shoulder as she tugs the shorts off. Her hand then trails down to rest on the black cotton of Azzi’s panties, her fingertips dragging over the wet patch on the fabric.

“You already this wet for me, Az? Haven’t even touched you. You got yourself this worked up just from kissin’ me, baby?” Paige teases. Azzi presses her head back into Paige’s collarbone and lets out a groan.

“Yeah,” she breathes. Paige feels giddy.

“Poor baby. You just want it so bad, don’t you? Couldn’t help it but get so turned on,” she mocks. Azzi’s cheeks warm, and she’s grateful that Paige can’t see her face in this position because she’s sure it would just lead to more teasing. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Gonna make you feel so good,” Paige coos. Azzi nods and presses her hips towards Paige’s hand. Paige wraps her other arm around Azzi’s torso, holding her firmly in place. Azzi whines, feeling far more desperate than she should.

“Shh… It’s okay, honey. I’m gonna make it feel better,” Paige comforts as her fingers dip under the waistband of Azzi’s panties. She drags a few lazy circles around Azzi’s clit first, pulling a high pitched whine from the younger girl. Then she trails her fingers down through her folds.

“Fuck. So wet. She’s fucking soaked for me. Wants it so bad, right baby?” It’s all Azzi can do to nod and beg for more. Paige obliges. She’s not in the mood to tease today.

Paige slips one finger into Azzi’s dripping cunt easily and begins to thrust in and out. Azzi arches her back a little, trying to get closer, but Paige just tightens her arm around her stomach.

It only takes a few minutes before Azzi is begging Paige for another finger, and then the blonde is sliding in another one next to the first. She doesn’t give Azzi any time to adjust to the stretch that comes with the added girth before she continues slipping her fingers in and out. Azzi moans louder this time, and Paige shushes her.

“Shh, baby. Allie and Jana might be home. Don’t want them to hear how good you’re takin’ me, do you?” Azzi shakes her head but the thought of being caught makes her pussy clench around Paige’s fingers. Paige smirks but doesn’t comment.

Instead she brings her thumb to Azzi’s clit, drawing tight circles around the puffy bud. Azzi tries and fails to hold back her whimper. That’s when Paige’s hand that had been resting against Azzi’s stomach moves up to rest against Azzi’s throat. Azzi’s eyes roll back in her head with just the warm presence of Paige’s skin.

Azzi manages to get her noises under control somehow so that the only sound in the room is Paige’s fingers sliding in and out of Azzi’s cunt. Her slick is dripping onto the sheets, down Paige’s hand, down her thighs. It’s messy and usually Azzi would care, but Paige is fucking her so steady and solid that she’s not even thinking about it.

“Close, Paige- please,” Azzi begs. She’s panting, her abs taut as the tension deep in her stomach gets hotter.

“I gotchu, honey. Just let go for me. You got it,” Paige urges. And really, Azzi is so, so close, but she just can’t quite get herself there. She whines in frustration, arching her back in an attempt to get more. Paige doesn’t change her pace, doesn’t change the force, doesn’t rush the circles she’s still making around Azzi’s clit. Instead, she takes the hand that has been a comforting presence on Azzi’s neck and squeezes.

That’s all it takes for Azzi to start shaking uncontrollably, back arching and hips bucking as she comes all over Paige’s hand. Paige fucks her through it, murmuring praises into her ear as Azzi moans.

“Good girl. So good for me Az, cumming so pretty like that. My beautiful good girl.” Azzi melts back into her girlfriend’s embrace. Paige’s hand is dragging up and down the brunette’s arm, the other one petting her thigh soothingly. Azzi feels boneless as she lays there in Paige’s arms.

“You still with me, baby?” Paige asks. Azzi hums and nods, eyes still closed and a smile on her face. It’s then that Azzi thinks about just how wet- how desperate- Paige must be. She turns herself around in Paige’s grasp, although her legs shake a little bit from the effort as she does.

“Let me help you,” she prompts. Paige looks confused for a moment before she seems to realize what her girlfriend means. She lets Azzi flip them so Paige is on top, straddling Azzi’s thighs in a position similar to the one they had started in. Paige pauses when Azzi’s hand moves down to drag her boxers off.

“Can I-” She can’t quite get the words out, but Azzi nods, encouraging her.

“What do you want, P? Fingers? Mouth? We can do whatever you want, baby,” Azzi coos. Paige’s tongue darts out to wet her lips.

“Wanna ride your thigh,” she says. Azzi smiles.

“Go ahead, baby. Wanna use my body to get yourself off, huh?” Paige groans and quickly throws her boxers off to a corner of the room. She situates herself so she’s hovering over one of Azzi’s thighs, thick and muscled and tan against the purple sheets. Some of Paige’s slick drips down onto Azzi’s thigh. She lets out a heavy breath and lowers herself down.

Azzi’s skin is soaked with Paige’s arousal before the blonde has even begun to move. Once she does start to drag herself back and forth, they’re both a slippery mess. It doesn’t take long for Paige’s eyes to roll back in her head, her back to arch, and her movements to be jerky as she works herself against Azzi’s leg.

“Fuck. So good- feel so good- shit Az,” Paige rambles. Azzi grips Paige’s hips and helps her move herself back and forth, grinding her clit into her skin roughly. Paige is moaning in no time, completely forgetting the need to be quiet. Azzi doesn’t have the heart to shush her.

Paige doesn’t even have time to warn Azzi before she’s crying out and cumming, still dragging her clit along Azzi’s skin. Then it’s Azzi’s turn to soothe the blonde. She pulls her off of her thigh and settles her on the bed next to her, pressing soft kisses into her hair.

In true Paige fashion, she’s yapping again before she’s even fully aware.

“We’re gonna take another nap now, right? I feel like we deserve another nap,” she says. Azzi giggles.

“Well, we should definitely clean up first,” she tells the blonde. Paige groans dramatically, sprawling her entire body over her girlfriends.

“Noooo,” she whines. Azzi tries her best to crawl out from under Paige, but she’s unsuccessful.

“Paige, you gotta let me up!” She argues. Paige pouts.

“You can’t leave yet,” she says pathetically. Azzi smiles. Her entire chest feels warm.

“Not gonna leave. I just want to get something to clean us up,” she bargains. Eventually, she convinces Paige to let her grab a cloth so she can wipe them both off. Once they’re clean, Paige drags Azzi right back into bed.

“Nap time,” she declares. Azzi doesn’t even try to protest. She’s already snuggling into Paige’s side, eyes closed as the warmth of her girlfriend’s skin lures her into sleep once again.

“Love you,” she mumbles.

“I love you,” Paige whispers. Neither of them manage to stay awake much longer after that. And if their teammates ask them later what they did all afternoon, well, they just took a nice nap.

[aceyalonso]

playing with ice - KIMI RAIKKONEN

pairing : kimi raikkonen x wife!reader kinktober day 11 - temperature play

summary : y/n knew that marrying the so-called "iceman" of formula 1 certainly has its hot and cold times, especially when it's kimi using ice cubes in the bedroom

warnings/notes : swearing, smut, temperature play (ice cubes he puts it somewhere where the sun doesn't shine), reader is sensitive in this, nipple play, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), slightly mean kimi (he has his moments guys), praise kink, restraints (handcuffs), slight dacryphilia, begging, overstimulation

word count : 3.1k

a/n : bwoah

main masterlist | kinktober masterlist

Kimi entered the bedroom, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he approached the bed where Y/n lay restrained by the handcuffs. The metal clinked softly as he set the bowl of ice cubes down on the nightstand.

"Are you ready?" Kimi asked with a smirk, his deep voice sending a shiver down Y/n's spine despite the warmth of the room.

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She tested the restraints, the cold metal biting into her wrists as she tugged at them futilely. "I... I think so," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kimi chuckled, the sound low and dark. He picked up an ice cube between his fingers, admiring how the light caught the crystal-clear surface. "Let's see how much you can take," he murmured, before slowly trailing the ice cube down Y/n's neck, leaving a glistening path on her skin.

Y/n gasped as the cold ice cube glided over her sensitive skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. Kimi continued his torturously slow descent, tracing the ice along her collarbone and down between her breasts.

"P-please..." Y/n whimpered, unsure if she was begging him to stop or to continue. Her body was already responding to his touch, nipples hardening into stiff peaks.

Kimi smirked at her reaction, clearly enjoying the power he held over her in that moment. He circled a nipple with the ice, watching in fascination as it puckered even tighter.

"You like that, don't you?" he rumbled, his voice a deep purr. "Your body is so honest, even if your mouth tries to lie."

He popped the ice cube into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before leaning down to capture Y/n's lips in a searing kiss. The cold ice mingled with the heat of his tongue as he plundered her mouth, swallowing her moans.

Kimi broke the kiss, pausing for a moment, considering his next move. His gaze lingered on Y/n's pert nipples, still glistening from the trail of the ice cube. With a wicked grin, he selected another cube from the bowl.

Slowly, teasingly, he dragged the ice over one hardened peak, circling it until Y/n was squirming against her restraints. Her breath came in short, needy gasps, her body arching as much as the handcuffs would allow.

"Kimi, please..." she whined, unsure what exactly she was begging for. The cold sensation was maddening, sending jolts of pleasure-pain straight to her core.

Chuckling darkly, Kimi leaned down and took the other nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. He suckled hard, grazing it with his teeth, before releasing it with a wet pop.

Y/n's chest heaved as Kimi released her nipple, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of his mouth. Her skin was flushed, a rosy hue spreading across her breasts and down her stomach.

Kimi sat back, admiring his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. He reached for another ice cube, holding it up to the light. "I wonder," he mused, his voice low and thoughtful, "how long it would take for you to break."

He trailed the ice down Y/n's sternum, over her belly button, and lower still. Y/n's hips bucked involuntarily, seeking friction, but Kimi avoided her most sensitive areas with a maddening precision.

"You're so responsive," he purred, circling her navel with the ice. "I can practically feel how wet you are just from this."

To emphasize his point, he dipped a finger between her thighs, finding her slick and ready. Y/n let out a desperate whine, tugging at the handcuffs until her wrists ached.

Y/n's pleas grew more urgent as Kimi teased her mercilessly, the ice leaving a glistening trail on her heated skin. "Please, Kimi," she gasped out, her hips rolling shamelessly against his hand. "I need more, I need..."

Her words were cut off by a sharp slap to her sensitive core, the stinging pain blossoming into a throbbing ache. Y/n yelped, her body jolting against the restraints.

"Patience," Kimi growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs. "Begging won't get you what you want. In fact, it might just make me change my mind about letting you cum at all."

He punctuated his warning with another slap, this one harder than the last. Y/n cried out, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. The pain was exquisite, sending shockwaves of pleasure rippling through her.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, her voice trembling. "I'll be good, I promise. Just please, don't stop."

His eyes narrowed as he considered Y/n's desperate plea. He traced a finger along her jawline, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "Maybe," he mused, his voice a low rumble, "if you can stay perfectly still, I'll consider letting you cum."

Y/n's breath hitched, her body trembling with the effort to hold herself motionless. Every fiber of her being ached to move, to seek more of Kimi's touch, but she knew the consequences of disobedience.

Kimi watched her struggle, a sadistic gleam in his eye. He reached for another ice cube, holding it just above her chest. "Don't move," he warned, his tone brooking no argument.

Slowly, torturously, he lowered the ice, letting it melt and drip onto Y/n's skin. The cold droplets trailed down her sternum, over her belly, and pooled in her navel. Y/n whimpered, her muscles quivering with the strain of keeping still.

Just as Y/n thought she might be able to maintain her composure, Kimi suddenly pressed the ice cube directly against her sensitive clit. The shock of the cold against her most intimate area caused Y/n to jolt violently, a strangled cry escaping her lips.

"Ah!" she gasped, her hips bucking reflexively. The movement was small, but it was enough.

Kimi's eyes flashed with a mix of disappointment and dark amusement. He removed the ice cube, tossing it aside carelessly. "Too bad," he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Looks like you've lost your chance to cum tonight."

Y/n's heart sank, despair washing over her. She had been so close, so desperate for release. Now, it seemed, that opportunity was gone forever.

"Please, Kimi," she begged, tears streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to move. I'll do anything, just please let me cum."

Kimi stood up from the bed, looming over Y/n's restrained form. He reached for the key to the handcuffs, a wicked smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Just as Y/n thought he was about to release her, Kimi paused. He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to consider her desperate pleas.

"You know," he mused, his voice dripping with false concern, "I might be willing to compromise. If you're really that desperate to cum, maybe we can work something out."

Y/n's heart leaped, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. She nodded eagerly, willing to do almost anything at this point. "Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling with anticipation. "Anything, just please..."

Kimi's eyes glinted with a sadistic gleam as he considered Y/n's desperate pleas. He leaned down, his face mere inches from hers. "I have a proposition for you," he purred, his breath hot against her skin. "If you want to cum so badly, I'll put an ice cube inside your pussy. Just to see how much you can really take."

Y/n's eyes widened, a mix of shock and excitement coursing through her. The idea was both terrifying and thrilling, the thought of the cold ice against her most intimate parts sending a shiver down her spine.

"Do we have a deal?" Kimi asked, his voice a low rumble. "Put the ice inside, and I'll let you cum. Refuse, and you'll spend the rest of the night aching and unsatisfied."

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing with the possibilities. She knew it would be intense, perhaps even painful, but the promise of release was too tempting to resist.

Y/n nodded eagerly, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. "Yes," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do it."

Kimi smiled, a genuine warmth spreading across his features. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, a rare display of affection. "Good girl," he murmured, before reaching for the key to the handcuffs.

The metal clinked as he unlocked the restraints, freeing Y/n from her bonds. She rubbed her wrists, the circulation returning to her numb fingers.

"Here," Kimi said, handing her a pillow. "I'm feeling sorry for you. You can hold onto this while I... experiment."

Y/n clutched the pillow to her chest, grateful for the small comfort. She watched as Kimi reached for the bowl of ice cubes, her breath catching in her throat as he selected a particularly large one.

Kimi knelt between Y/n's spread legs, the ice cube glinting in his hand. He looked up at her, his dark eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/n swallowed hard, her grip tightening on the pillow. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Her body was tense, every muscle coiled with anticipation.

Kimi's gaze dropped to her exposed sex, a wicked smile curving his lips. "Remember," he purred, "if you want to cum, you have to put the whole thing inside."

With that, he leaned forward, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. Y/n whimpered, her hips twitching involuntarily.

Slowly, teasingly, Kimi trailed the ice cube along her slit, the cold sensation sending jolts of pleasure-pain through her core. Y/n gasped, her head falling back against the pillow.

Y/n gasped as the ice made contact with her most intimate area, the cold sensation, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. "F-fucking cold," she stammered, her teeth chattering slightly.

Kimi chuckled, a dark and wicked sound. He continued his torturous ministrations, circling her entrance with the ice, teasing her with the promise of penetration.

"That's it," he coaxed, his voice a low rumble. "Just relax and let it happen."

Y/n tried to do as he said, but her body was tense, resisting the foreign intrusion. Kimi pressed a little harder, the ice beginning to slip inside her.

Y/n let out a strangled cry, her hips bucking involuntarily. The cold was intense, sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain rippling through her core.

"Kimi, please," she whimpered, unsure if she was begging him to stop or to continue. "I-I don't know if I can..."

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. "You already said yes," he reminded her, his voice firm. "You can't back out now, especially when you're doing so well."

Y/n bit her lip, her body trembling with the effort to relax. She knew he was right, but the intensity of the sensation was overwhelming.

"Just breathe," Kimi coaxed, his free hand coming up to rub soothing circles on her thigh. "Focus on the pleasure, not the cold."

Y/n tried to do as he said, taking deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. Slowly, gradually, she felt her body beginning to accept the intrusion.

Kimi watched her closely, gauging her reactions. When he was satisfied that she was ready, he began to push the ice cube deeper, his movements slow and deliberate.

Y/n let out a long, low moan as the cold filled her, stretching her in ways she had never experienced before. It was intense, almost too much, but beneath the discomfort was a growing sense of pleasure, building with each passing second.

Kimi's eyes darkened with lust as he watched Y/n squirm and moan, the ice cube buried deep inside her. "See, you can take it so well," he purred, his voice a low rumble. "Such a good girl for me."

With his free hand, he began to stroke her sensitive folds, his fingers gliding easily through the slickness of her arousal. Y/n gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily as he found her clit, circling the swollen nub with a maddening precision.

The combination of the cold ice and Kimi's skilled fingers was almost too much to bear. Y/n's head thrashed against the pillow, her body torn between the desire to escape the intensity and the need to chase the impending pleasure.

"Kimi, please," she whimpered, her voice high and needy. "I-I think I'm going to..."

Kimi grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. He pushed the ice cube as deep as it would go, the cold pressure against her inner walls sending Y/n over the edge.

As Y/n's orgasm crashed over her, Kimi continued to work his fingers, drawing out her pleasure. He could feel the ice cube melting inside her, the cold water mixing with her own arousal.

Her body shook and spasmed, her inner walls clenching around the ice and Kimi's fingers. She cried out, her voice raw and desperate, as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her.

"That's it," Kimi growled, his own arousal straining against the confines of his pants. "Cum for me, baby. Let go."

Y/n's nails dug into the pillow, her knuckles white with the force of her grip. She was lost in the sensation, her mind blanking out everything but the feeling of Kimi's touch and the cold, melting ice inside her.

As her orgasm began to subside, Kimi slowly withdrew his fingers, a satisfied smirk on his face. He watched as Y/n collapsed back against the bed, her chest heaving with exertion.

Kimi gazed down at Y/n, a mix of pride and affection in his eyes. "You did so well," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "You deserve to cum again."

With that, he lowered his head between her thighs, his warm breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. Y/n gasped, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her previous orgasm.

Kimi's tongue delved into her folds, lapping at the mixture of her arousal and the melted ice. The contrast of the cold and his warm mouth sent shivers down Y/n's spine, her hips bucking involuntarily against his face.

He worked her with a skillful precision, his tongue circling her clit before dipping inside her, teasing her with the promise of more. Y/n's hands flew to his hair, tangling in the dark strands as she pulled him closer.

"Kimi, yes," she moaned, her voice breathy and needy. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

He continued his assault on Y/n's sensitive flesh, his tongue delving deep and swirling around her most intimate parts. Y/n's body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure.

Tears streamed down her face, the intensity of the sensations overwhelming her. She was so sensitive, every touch, every lick sending shockwaves through her core.

"Kimi, it's so good," she sobbed, her voice broken and raw. "I can't take it, I'm going to... I'm going to..."

Her words dissolved into incoherent moans as Kimi redoubled his efforts, his hands gripping her thighs to hold her open. Y/n's legs trembled, her muscles tensing as she teetered on the brink of another orgasm.

Y/n's body convulsed, her back arching off the bed as another powerful orgasm ripped through her. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" she cried out, her voice a hoarse scream. "Kimi, I can't... I can't take anymore!"

But Kimi didn't relent, his tongue and lips working her through the intense waves of pleasure. Y/n's hands scrabbled at the sheets, her knuckles white as she gripped the fabric for dear life.

Her legs shook uncontrollably, the muscles tensing and releasing as she rode out the aftershocks. Kimi held her steady, his strong hands keeping her open and exposed to his relentless ministrations.

Y/n's sobs mingled with her moans, the sounds spilling from her lips in a desperate symphony. She was lost in the sensation, her mind blanking out everything but the feeling of Kimi's mouth on her pussy.

As Y/n's body shook and convulsed, her orgasm bordering on too intense, Kimi finally relented. He pulled back, his mouth leaving her sensitive flesh with a wet pop.

Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her chest heaving with ragged breaths. Kimi cupped her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

"Hey," Kimi murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "Stay with me, baby. I've got you."

Y/n blinked, her vision slowly clearing as she focused on Kimi's face. His dark eyes were filled with concern, his brow furrowed with worry.

She nodded weakly, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her intense orgasms. Kimi's hands were gentle as they stroked her hair, his touch a comforting anchor in the midst of the overwhelming sensations.

"I'm here," he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "I've got you, and I'm not going anywhere."

Kimi held Y/n close, his arms wrapping around her trembling form. He could feel her heart racing, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to calm herself.

"Shh, it's okay," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "Just breathe, nice and slow. In and out, nice and easy."

Y/n nodded, trying to follow his instructions. She focused on Kimi's voice, using it as a guide to regulate her breathing. Gradually, her breaths evened out, the tremors in her body subsiding to a slight shiver.

Kimi continued to hold her, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. He pressed soft kisses to her temple, her cheek, her jaw, offering her comfort and reassurance.

As Y/n's breathing returned to normal, Kimi pulled back slightly, his dark eyes searching her face. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. "Was I too much?"

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "No, it felt good," she assured him, her voice still slightly breathless. "I just didn't anticipate how... stimulating it would be."

Kimi's expression softened, a hint of pride and satisfaction in his gaze. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. "But next time, we'll take it a little slower. I don't want to overwhelm you."

Y/n nodded slowly, a wave of exhaustion washing over her. The intense orgasms, combined with the emotional rollercoaster of the evening, had left her feeling drained and sleepy.

He noticed her fatigue, his brow furrowing with concern. "You should rest," he said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You've been through a lot tonight."

She leaned into his touch, her eyelids fluttering closed. "Okay," she murmured, her voice heavy with sleep. "I think I need to sleep."

Kimi helped her sit up, supporting her as she leaned against the headboard. He pulled the covers over her, tucking her in with a gentle hand.

"Sleep well, my love," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'll clean you up while you sleep."

taglist

for all posts; @nepobbylver @wobblymug @xoscar03 @irishmanwhore @nitiii

kinktober masterlist; @cloud-55 @emryb @sie17136 @jaimeleannavanlloman @wosof1 @wholetmewritethat @glitterbitch1 @under-seasoned-pasta @sinners-98-world @lewishamiltonismybf

[theswordmaiden]

Stress Relief

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

Poor Larissa is frustrated after a long day and needs a helping hand... or throat. Thank you @ weemssapphic for being willing to beta this <3

∙ CW / Mentions: NSFW, g!p, shifted cock, blowjob, praise/degrading maybe, finger-sucking, name calling, pet names. R! is just a whore

∙ Word Count: 2.4k | ao3 link in title

Larissa had been fidgeting with the end of her pen when you’d entered her office only moments ago, her little darling, so sweet to check in on the poor woman. Today had been exhausting, from the moment she’d dragged herself out of bed, joints aching and stiff, to the constant bickering of students outside her door all afternoon arguing about who knew what.

But then you’d come in with a cup of hot chocolate, perhaps no longer as warm as you would have preferred, but enough to satisfy, and she’d sipped it gratefully, relieved to have something else to focus on besides the mounting stress of the day — and to have you perched so prettily on the corner of her desk. 

Now she listens as you ramble about the obnoxious construction in Jericho, but her attention is more focused on how your fingers trace the rim of your cup with slow deliberation. It is hypnotic, like a siren's call, lulling her senses into a trance-like state. When you fall silent and look at her expectantly, you can’t help but notice the slight twitch in her eye. It seems that her frustration has returned, though perhaps in a different manner than before.

Larissa flinches at the hand that suddenly brushes against hers. "Is something the matter, Riss? You look flushed..." you question, your thumb pressed against her palm, somewhat amused as her eyes meet yours. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Sorry, darling,” Larissa clears her throat and reaches for her drink. Watching you makes her feel parched. "Today has been quite frustrating…” Her voice trails off as she contemplates the lingering emotions, dark eyes staring at you curiously.

"Well," you lean in closer until your lips brush against the skin of her knuckles, "I could help you forget about that...?" The warmth of your breath causes Larissa to shiver, your voice like silk against her sensitive flesh. Anticipation pools within her belly as she watches you ease yourself from her desk and coax her up from her chair to take a much-needed break.

Your hands come to rest against Larissa’s hips, tracing the generous curve of them, pressing into the soft flesh as you massage small circles. Your fingers curl into the fabric of her skirt, pulling it up with an innocent smile that belies your intentions. It bunches around her waist, revealing a tantalizing patch of hair that trails from her belly button down to the waistband of her panties.

“Careful, pet,” Larissa warns, though still leans into your touch, allowing you to continue, “Someone should teach you some manners…” The corners of her lips tilt upwards in a coy smile as she studies you, her fingers idly playing with your hair as she waits, wanting to see how far you can be pushed. “I’m sure we can think of something, hm? Sweet girl, always taking care of me..”

Sinking to your knees before she even has to ask, your head tilts back to meet her gaze with big doe eyes, the tip of your tongue naturally darting out to wet your pouting lips. Your hands reach down around her calves to pull her closer, nails biting at the flimsy stockings protecting her skin from your touch.

Slowly you trace up the mile-long expanse of her legs, the tantalizing touch making Larissa’s cock strain against her panties as your warm palms make their way across the tautness of her thighs — drawing closer to where she aches, but never fully giving in to what she needs. Finally rounding the sides of her hips, two fingers hook around the sage green lace holding her and pull down, releasing the writhing length of her cock.

Sucking in a shaky breath, your eyes trail down Larissa’s body, groaning in appreciation as you settle on the sight of her dick twitching between milky thighs, following the slight curve of it with your gaze. It stands proudly, thick and heavy, framed by a neat patch of blonde curls at the base, and a prominent vein that runs up the side you want to trace with your tongue. The thought of her using your throat for her pleasure, just how deep she could push before you choke around her, sends shivers down your spine, and your mouth begins to water. You let out a small whine as your eyes meet hers once again, only to see them completely black, pupils dilated wide with desire, and you give a squeeze to her thighs in a silent plea.

“You make me want to ruin that little innocent look you’re always so careful about showing,” Larissa murmurs, sighing as she cups the side of your face, tilting it slightly. “Such a perfect mouth..” Her thumb stretches out to trace along your bottom lip, soft and inviting, watching in fascination as she pulls it down, parting your mouth slightly, revealing the velvety surface of your tongue. “Open for me, would you, sweetheart? Wider… Ah, there we go. Good girl.” A pleased hum leaves her crimson lips as you obey, allowing the digit to travel the length of your tongue, pushing as deep as it can go before stilling.

“Now suck.” 

Her thumb slides farther between your lips, in and out, back and forth, and you taste the saltiness of her skin as it lingers against the warmth of your tongue. Your eyes flutter shut, and you let out soft moans as you suck on her digit, cheeks hollowing and tongue twirling. Larissa curls her index finger under your chin after a few moments and guides your head up, your eyes opening to meet her intense gaze, while her other hand caresses the side of your face.

Larissa’s touch is gentle, leaving a trail of heat in its path as her knuckles trace down the side of your face, starting from your temple and working their way lower. She pauses at the roundness of your cheek, the pad of her fingers pushing against the skin of your cheekbone before continuing their journey down. Lower and lower they go, until her thumb reaches the corner of your mouth, tugging it down, only to watch it snap back into place. 

“I’ve been thinking about these pretty lips all day... and how much prettier they’d be wrapped around my cock.”

With gentle pressure on your chin, she urges it loose, and you can’t help but to obey, eagerly opening your mouth as she guides her cock towards your waiting tongue — teasingly tapping the tip against its velvety surface before finally easing herself inside, filling your mouth with her presence. A pleased hum rumbles from the depths of her chest as she watches you eagerly take her in.

Your throat constricts, struggling not to gag as you adjust to the length of her shaft. You can feel every movement, slow and deliberate, inch by inch, as Larissa’s cock invades the cavern of your mouth, stretching your lips to accommodate its thickness. She shifts her hips back before slowly pushing forward to enter your mouth once more, your lips puffy and pink, becoming greedy, not wishing to spend a second away from the warmth of your tongue.

The head of her cock presses deliciously against the back of your throat each time it slides back inwards, Larissa’s hips twitching in restraint from just holding your skull in place and fucking your throat to a bruise. 

Slowly, you push your head down until you reach the base of her cock, blonde curls tickling at your lips and nose as they meet the junction between plush thighs, each grunt and shaky breath from the woman above you making you shudder with need. You pull back, releasing her with a wet and lewd pop that echoes, a glistening strand of saliva connecting your mouth to the pink tip of her aching length, leaving a messy trail down your chin as you inhale shakily.

Larissa’s gaze flickers down to watch the connection break, her breathing deepening as she takes in the sight of you — cheeks flushed, lips swollen, a bead of sweat trickling down your brow. The way you look at her, eyes half-lidded in your blissed state, mouth still parted and waiting, ignites a primal urge within her to claim you completely. Her little pet, so perfectly pliable and eager, as if you were nothing but a hole to fill.

You, so obedient, made just for her, on your knees like a saint praying at an altar, worshiping the length of her neverending body. Your hands roam around the back of her legs, carving marks into the supple skin, begging to feel her back down your throat.

“Look at you,” she coos, her voice so sickeningly sweet and low that it sends another wave of heat pooling in your lower belly. “So good to me, aren’t you? So willing to take what I give you, letting me put that mouth of yours to good use...” Larissa’s fingers thread through your hair, grabbing a fistful to gently tug you back down onto her waiting cock.

She begins to thrust forward again, just enough for you to feel every twitching inch of her filling your mouth. Your hands grip at the flesh of her thighs for stability, nails digging in as she increases the pace, each thrust pushing deeper into your throat, swallowing around her length. You groan around her cock as she sets a bruising rhythm, pushing you down, holding you there, keeping you still, before drawing you back up again, forcing you to meet each quick thrust.

“Look at how perfectly my cock fits in that pretty mouth of yours,” she growls, accentuating each syllable with a purposeful thrust that makes you clench around nothing — so desperate to be used for her pleasure, licking and sucking and slurping as if your life depended on it as she uses your face like a fuck-toy.

“That’s right, just like- oh gods- like that.. choke- mmph- on it like a good- ngh- good f-fucking girl.”

Your throat constricts around her, a desperate gasp escaping as you gag, fighting against the urge to pull away even as your lungs scream for air, eyes watering at the gratifying stretch as you take it like the desperate bitch you are. Again and again, her cock hits the back of your throat, another sputtering moan escaping from your drooling mouth, your tongue lapping and swirling at every inch she gifts you with.

“Breathe through your nose, honey,” Larissa instructs through gritted teeth as she finds a heavenly rhythm, angling your head just right so that it makes her see stars. Her breaths are ragged, chest heaving as she cries out your name, over and over like a mantra, thighs trembling on either side of your head. “Just- ah- a little longer, doing so- so well for me- ugnh, fuck!”

Your jaw is beginning to ache, your throat raw and sore, yet you can’t help but moan around her cock, wanting more, always wanting and craving it. Larissa’s hands tangled within your hair grip harder to hold you steady as she bucks against your face, her thrusts becoming deeper. You feel her length twitch against your tongue and you know she’s close.

“Almost there, t- take it all, darling,” she gasps, her voice thick with urgency, “want you to- fuck- swallow it down like a- ngh- good little slut.”

Larissa’s thrusts become more desperate, hungry, her hips jerking forward in quick, erratic movements. Whimpers fall from her lips, her head thrown back in pleasure, teeth bared to the ceiling, each sound sending white-hot pleasure down your spine. You can feel the heat radiating off her, the tension building like a coiled spring, threatening to snap.

You whine around her as she thrusts harder and faster into your mouth like a depraved beast, every bit of your remaining energy focused on pleasing her. Your tongue flicks out, tracing circles around her cockhead as she drives deeper into your mouth, begging — pleading — to let her cum down your throat, and all you can do is hum around her shaft, hoping she’ll do just that.

Larissa breaks apart above you in a series of loud moans and curses as you surge forward, hitting down to the base of her cock once more, pushing her over the edge. Stars dance behind her closed eyes as her hot release spills into your mouth, which you eagerly swallow, milking her for all that she’s worth until there’s nothing left and she’s nudging you away from her sensitive length; trembling and panting as she lets you pull back.

As you lean back on your heels, a rush of oxygen fills your lungs, bringing sweet relief to your heaving body. The lingering taste of her still coats your tongue, and you savor it before wiping the remnants of saliva from your face with the back of your hand.

Larissa’s eyes flutter open, meeting yours with an appreciative smile. “My precious girl,” she whispers, the deep timbre of her voice low and husky, as she reaches down to stroke your cheek and tuck away damp curls behind your ears. There is something intoxicating about the way she gazes down at you — sated yet still hungry, a predatory glint in her stormy blue eyes that hints this is far from over. “Thank you for taking care of me...”

You lean into her touch, nuzzling against her palm and relishing in the attention, and you press your mouth against the skin, despite your exhaustion. Your lips trail a path of kisses from the inside of her wrist to the delicate curve of her elbow, savoring the saltiness of her skin as you work your way across her body.

“More, Rissa,” you rasp against the softness of her belly, nipping at the ivory skin. Larissa shivers as your lips meet her navel. You look up at her through your lashes, eyes wide and pleading as you pout — surely you deserve to cum, too, after all of that? “Please?”

“More?” Larissa echoes, her voice dripping with honeyed sweetness as she tilts her head in mock innocence. Her fingers weave into your hair again, tugging gently but with enough force to elicit a soft gasp from your lips. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Greedy thing...”

You nod fervently, unable to resist, like the obedient little thing you are. The heat between your thighs is unbearable, after all, and you’ve been so, so good for her…

“Such a desperate little pet. Always wanting more, hm?” she tuts, her voice laced with amusement as she continues to toy with you, relishing in your desperation for her touch. Larissa enjoys making you wait until you’re dripping with need. And only then when you decide to pout some more does she relent, just as she always does for her favorite girl.

“Get up, then... I think you deserve to be taken care of, after being so good to me...”

─────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☽₊‧.⋅⋆─────────⋅⋆.‧₊☆₊‧.⋅⋆─────

A/N: This has been rotting in my docs since February because I was, admittedly, quite hesitant to post this.. There was a time when Larissa fans were complaining about people writing her with shifted parts, which made me a little nervous about receiving backlash.

But, considering there are far worse things out there being written about her, fuck it — literally, lol.

[tittiesnhrtz]

hi hiiii idk if you’re still doing reqs 😭 if sooooo can you write ab eating ellie out while she’s on the phone 😞🙏

my apologies if this doesn't hit 😻

warnings: oral, public sex

ellie was on her iphone ten again, the poor thing adorned with spiderweb like patterns, having endured more tough days then you’ve ever seen. the light bouncing from it illuminated her face, highlighting the freckles dotted across her cheeks like the cherry blossoms scattered on the streets of the foreign city you both were meandering through.

this was supposed to be a family trip but of course your parents had to wind up in a work related meeting, leaving you with unused plane tickets and hotel reservations. you couldn’t let their money go to waste, so you asked your girlfriend to tag along. if you knew she’d be on that device ever since you both arrived this morning, you’d have cancelled the trip altogether. “just tendin to a niche game, babe. give me ten minutes.” ten minutes stretched into an excruciating five hours and thirty four minutes. not that you were keeping track. not that you were borderline desperate for her attention. not at all.

you cling onto her like a koala, encircling your arms around her torso, seeking for any sort of attention she can offer, even if it’s something as meagre as the faint sound of her heartbeat responding to your touch. “ellie.” you whine out her name, a pout painting itself on your face. in any other situation, she’d be a horny mess, yearning for more of those pretty sounds falling off your lips, but there was a seasonal event going on and she needed to collect all the weapons. “yeah?” she looks up for three milliseconds, “i’m kinda hungry, let’s go eat.” she intertwines your hand with her calloused one, the coldness radiating from her skin blending with your warmth, making you satisfied for now.

“whaddya wanna eat?” your eyes dart around at the cafés and restaurants passing by, lingering on a certain cat themed cafe. “ellie, look.” you beam, nudging her to shift her gaze at the cafe. “eh.” is all that leaves her mouth. “but you love cats.” your eyebrows furrow. “cause you love em.” you know that’s not true. she’d literally adopted a cat with sleek ginger fur from a sordid alleyway even though you’d warned her about the diseases it could carry. she ended up naming him ‘bricked up monstertruck pussy’ or ‘bump’ when she got tired of calling him by his full name. just when your mouth parts open to speak again, she pockets her phone with her other hand, her thumb caressing the back of your hand. fucking finally. you almost break out into a wide grin, biting on your lip to conceal the desperation that previously resided in you.

“babe, we have to go there.” she starts leading you to a sci-fi cafe, her battered converse moving with enthusiasm. a sound mimicking an airlock opening echoes when ellie steps inside with you in tow. “that’s so cool.” she giggles. the cafe is dimly lit with metallic blue lights, the high ceiling painted with an array of alien stars and galaxies. you slip into a booth at the far end, taking a seat opposite of ellie.

the waiter takes your orders; ellie gets a drink with syllables you can’t even decipher and a burger. you decide on a strawberry milkshake, something basic, and the same burger she chose. “that’s so you.” her face splits into a lopsided grin. “what does that mean?” you play with your bracelet, relishing the feeling of her eyes on you. “dunno…like, you’re sweet..like strawberries.” a smile lingers on your lips, nearly making you forget how she’d been technically ignoring you, until you hear the faint buzz of her phone— a fatuous theme song from a movie blaring as her ringtone.

she has the audacity to hum to the rhythm before picking it up to answer jesse. she rambles on about how she’d managed to beat six levels in just twenty minutes, an obvious lie. you know better, you’d been the one suffering all day. five minutes slip by, fleeting like the rocket in the hologram video flickering on the wall. you’ve had enough, you decide.

you sneak under the table, the tablecloth shiny with neon green glitter concealing you almost completely. she’s manspreading on the couch, giving you easy access to settle between her legs. she doesn’t notice you’ve moved until she feels two hands resting on both of her thighs. you let out a small giggle as she looks down at your head peering through the tablecloth, surprise etching on her face. her breath hitches at the sensation of your cheek resting against her thigh, the rasp of denim against flesh. she secures your chin in the palm of her calloused hand to make you look up at her dilated pupils, green eyes taking on an inky darkness. it feels sinful to be looking at you in this angle. even in the dim light, she can make out your doe eyed expression, and her boxers suddenly feel uncomfortable.

jesse’s voice fades away into the background, his words ringing through the other line but not quite making it into her ear. swiftly, you unbuckle her belt and tug on her jeans, the denim whispering down her thighs. you don’t care that you’re in public, the lighting, the very few people and the fact that you’re in the far end of the cafe should obscure whatever you’re about to do. her grasp on your chin releases and her fingers tangle in your locks as she leans back against the couch. with bated breath, she watches your head settle in between her thighs, stifling a moan when you kitten lick at the damp cotton. her hand clenches at your roots, “atta girl.” she mumbles incoherently.

“el, you there?” you pull back, hearing the faint sound of jesse’s voice. you pat her thigh, “answer him.” your fingers hook into the waistband of her boxers, pulling them down to join her jeans. the cool air dances along her warm exposed skin, as the plush of your lips pucker around her throbbing, swollen clit.

“mngh..y-yeah, yeah.” she grunts, pushing your face further, making you bask in her nectar. your fingers glide against her thighs languidly, as your whimpers get muffled against her core. this feels like an atonement of some sort, the attention you’ve been craving so badly, now all yours. you look up at her through your eyelashes, taking in how she’s biting on the palm of the hand that’s holding her phone to hold back the noises threatening to cascade.

“uhm, ellie..you okay?” she barely registers his confused voice over the feeling of your tongue sliding up and down her folds, making her eyes flutter shut. her juices flow down your chin and onto the leather couch below, as you close your eyes too, messily swirling your tongue in circles around her clit now. jesse repeats his question and she brings the phone closer to her again, “dude, i’ll call you lat- fuck.” her words get cut off by a moan at the sudden intrusion of your warm muscle thrusting inside her weeping cunt.

the phone falls from her grasp, landing somewhere on the ground with a soft thud, probably adding a new crack amongst the ones already marring the screen. she doesn’t even care, her mind clouded with pure bliss. both of her hands card through your hair, feeling the softness of it against her roughness. her forehead rests against the table, back hunching as she quietly whimpers, her thighs closing around your head. the moan you let out reverberates through her body, teetering her to the edge. you spread her pussy lips wider with your fingers, gliding your tongue up and down again.

“gonna…fuck..i’m gonna..” she mumbles against the fabric of the tablecloth, tugging on your hair gently. one of her hand moves to rest on the nape of your neck when she comes, seeing the whole of orion belt as her eyes roll to the back of her head. she lets out a throaty breath as she no longer feels your mouth on her core. lifting her head up from the table, she pulls her boxers up the first thing. she tilts your head up and lets out a moan at the sight of your chin glistening with her juices, not even bothering to lower her voice. the pad of her thumb runs along your slightly parted lips before lingering on the bottom one. she leans down to plant a velvety kiss on your forehead, clamping your cheeks together. “you’re so fucking paying for this when we get back to the hotel room.”

[lunatf-ao3]

NAUGHTY ♪

[TFP] Optimus Prime/Brat! reader

[⚠︎]: mild nsfw, bratty behavior, writing on the skin, rough treatment.

I think this is the worst thing I've ever written, or I'm just very self-critical. I hope I don't end up deleting this. You can make requests!

-

It's not too bad, you think.

Maybe you should have made it smaller, less visible, less prominent, especially when Optimus is about to go on a mission. Riding on his shoulder, you look at the white marker you stole from Raphael in your hand and then at the large drawing in the red paint on the Prime.

A cock.

A large penis covering a place relatively invisible to him. Are you satisfied with the result? Yes and no, a hint of regret still trying to penetrate your skull.

Optimus calls your name, soft, firm, that sweet gentle tone that threatens to soften your resistance every time. "I have to retire right now, could you come down?"

But this time, you don't resist, much to his relief. Which was quickly replaced by an imperceptible wariness.

You're grinning like a little shit, not trying to hide it. "Good luck, Optimus, see you later."

That leaves you uneasy, but he still bends down, gives you a soft kiss on the head and says goodbye with an "I love you."

After that, you just keep hanging around the base, painting obscene things around the hidden areas and trying to steal more of those cool Raf markers.

You also try to paint something on Ratchet, but the bitter bot caught on and chased you away like an annoying cat.

Hours pass until the moment of your death arrives, when the portal opens and Optimus calls your name.

And he's not happy.

Your null sense of survival finally kicks in and you do the best you can do. Try to hide.

Obviously it doesn't work because Optimus is after you in a few steps and it's not like you're fast enough to jump off a couch and down stairs in a few seconds without breaking a leg. The Prime grabs you by the sides and retreats to his room without a word.

"Hey, do you think she'll be okay?" Miko asks to nothing, amused.

"Yeah... She always ends well." Jack replies, not taking his eyes off the TV.

Rafael just sighs, reaching for his white marker under the couch.

-

Optimus pulls you without gentleness onto his bed, the hard mattress welcoming you unchanged. You don't even try to complain, but go straight to slinking into the sheets the Prime had set aside for you.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, you will not escape. Come here." Grabbing you by the leg, the big leader quickly has you at his mercy. His optic ridges are down, his optics are staring at you and his derms are twisted in discontent. You knew that expression.

"You will clean me." He started.

"I don't know what you're talking about-"

"Quiet." He interrupted, not allowing you to speak. "You will clean me up, leave the paint without a trace of imperfection, apologize, and leave the rest of the base spotless."

"How-"

"Silence, I have not allowed you to speak." You let out a small grumble, crossing your arms, but the best you can do is obey... Meh, you won't do that either.

"I don't plan on cleaning the base, do you know how big it is? It would take me week, don't even think about it."

"Remember what we talked about the consequences?"

"I don't give a shit about consequences."

His servos jerk at you. "Language." You stick your tongue out at him.

Optimus clenches his teeth a little, something you could only notice by staring at him. For a moment, you think he's going to explode.

But he simply sighs and leans his face against your torso, staying there. You hum, another victory for you, perhaps, or has Optimus finally had enough and is about to finish you off?

However, he starts to pull down your pants.

"Uh~"

"Quiet."

"I'm not going to shut up."

"You will." And with his words, Optimus shoves double digits into your mouth. His servos take you with precision, handling your body as he wanted. Keeping your back down, he remove your pants and underwear.

You try to bite him, but he couldn't care less.

The Prime couldn't help but run his fingers along the soft lips of your sex, tickling the clitoris. "ngh!"

But that wasn't what I was planning at the moment. Ignoring your pleading grunts, He pulled out a bright red permanent marker from subspace on his chest. You try to scream some things, but Optimus pushes his fingers even deeper into your mouth, shutting you up.

You startle, he starts writing something on your ass. Large servos trace carefully across your skin, writing and rewriting in large print.

With your cheek pressed against the metal, you can only taste the metal of his fingers and wait. Saliva runs down your chin and stains the sheets, and Optimus begins to move his fingers in and out of your mouth, acting as casual as ever.

You grumble a few other things under your breath until your big man finally pulls away, leaving you free.

"What did you do to me?!" You try to look at your butt, but you can barely see anything. This time, looking at Optimus's face, he looks satisfied.

At least he's not angry anymore. "Hey!"

"Come here. I have forgiven you." Mentally, you can only snort. Yeah, he's a fucking angel. He took you in his arms, cupping you up to his chest, where he rested a hand on your ass.

"But don't think there won't be any consequences. You're still going to clean me and the base up, I'll make sure."

"bullshit."

"Lenguage."

"What did you write on me? I feel my whole ass marked!"

His large servos caress your head with a new gentleness. "Property of Optimus Prime. It will last there for a few weeks."

Weeks?

[icedout-pacemaker]

Catching the eye of the pastor's wife. She pulls me to the side. [In some black churches, the pastor's wife is called the "first lady." It's as pretentious and haughty as it sounds.]

You need to start wearing longer dresses and longer skirts. You have a sinful body. The kind that makes people want to do things that don't align with the right path.

She takes my chin, lifting my gaze up to hers. I think she's scoldingly appraising me. But I swear she's looking down my dress.

The next time I come to church, I'm wearing a dress that completely covers me, including a cardigan. She calls me to her office. She tells me to take my cardigan off. I hand it to her, revealing the black a-line am dress that stops at my shins. She walks around me, checking before telling me it's not enough.

I don't understand. I bought this just for church.

It doesn't matter. I can still see your shape. Look here.

She's behind me, taking me by the arms. I gasp as she pulls my arms back, pushing my chest out. My breasts push against the fabric, perfectly outlined. She leans in, her cheek to mine, voice repulsed.

Look at your breasts. You can't see it but your ass is right up against the fabric as well. You look like a coy little slut. If you saw the way the deacons look at you when you sit up front, you'd have some decency and cover up.

In one movement, she releases my arms and unzips the back of my dress, jerking the fabric down. My arms are restrained downward by the folded down sleeves. My breasts sit in my black bra, slightly spilling over as she grabs the fabric, pulling me closer into her.

She cups my breasts, holding them up higher before letting them drop. She scoffs, jerking the front until it unclips, popping my breasts out in the open. I can feel her nails in my skin as she grips them, pulling me back and roughly kneading.

Isn't this what you wanted? To be used? Do you think it makes you special? You think you're the first doe eyed slut to come in here trying to flaunt her body?

I'm sorry, first lady.

I gasp as she spends me over her desk in one push, my tits cold against the polished oak. I shudder as the ends of my skirts, exposing my ass.

Little sluts like you walking in and trying to tempt people. You think you'll stray me? You're not the first and you won't be the last. Spread your fucking legs.

I obey without thinking, my cheek to the desk. Ahead of me is the wall where a portrait of the first lady and the pastor is, their smiles plastered and heavily airbrushed. I stare into the eyes of her half of the portrait as she rips my stockings, striking my ass with a remorseless slap

I hear her heels, clicking as she seems to be pulling something from the wall. Something hard slides up my slit, a soft wet sound omitting as she pushes it in a little, scoffing. I bite my lip, embarrassed.

Of course. You're all the same. And you'll get punished all the same.

This item is irregularly ridged, its end square rather than rounded. I wince, feeling her slide it, looking for the best angle. In the same instance I find the nerve to look back, my lips part in a shuddering cry of pain and pleasure as I watch her slowly push in the bottom end of a crucifix. Once she manages the insertion, she no longer hesitates. I feel the endlessly ridged piece of wood and gold pump in and out of my pussy. She looms over my body, chest to my back as her hand moves with purpose.

She's in my ear again, teeth gritted. She's one part satisfied and one part irritated with me. I cannot stop myself, only a muddled collection of whimpers and moans, dribbling out of my mouth like saliva.

I broke the other ones and I'll break you. I always do. You may even enjoy it. But you'll break. I can promise you that.

[mochroialainn]

Besties, Im gonna be so for real right now, this turned out to be a little more intense and freaky than I intended. Im currently playing the campaign for Modern Warfare II (reboot) and could not get this scenario out of my brain since I first saw Graves. So uh... warnings for power play, mentions of safe words, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, creepy graves. Minors Do Not Interact this is an 18+ Post. This was also written on mobile and formatted on desktop so please ignore any spelling/grammar errors, I'm too tired to proof read it and fix it

Thinking about cybersecurity CIA!Operative reader whos married to Price and is brought onto the task force by the Secretary of Defense (so above Shepherds head) to try and find the traitor, the SoD has an inkling that its Shepherd and Graves and its readers job to prove it. One of the ways she does it, because shes young and pretty and knows how to get what she wants from a man, is by flirting with Graves and gradually getting closer and closer to him until she can hack his phone and gain access to his emails. She hates it. Hates him and his arrogance, his cocky smile and the way his eyes always trace over her body and stay too long leering at her tits when they talk. He genuinely makes her feel sick and queasy, and she shivers everytime shes out of his sight after flirting with him.

Price hates it. Hates the way Graves looks at her, eyes always on her tits or ass as if she was nothing more than something to fuck and leave disgarded. He has to clench his jaw and bite his tongue anytime he sees them together, he wants to punch Graves and break his fucking jaw. Wants to take a knife and carve his heart out of his fucking chest. But he doesn’t, because he can't. It would jeporadise everything you had worked for, would jeporadise his team if Shepherd knew his little lapdog had been found out he would have all of them killed in seconds.

But when you come to him after flirting with Graves all day, locking his office door behind you and already stripping yourself from your clothes beginning him to make you forget about every look and leer and touch from Graves, hes all but happy to oblige. He kisses you something fierce, all passion with a hint of danger mixed in, all lips and teeth and desperate panting into your mouth as he sigs your bare ass on his desk one hand already toying with your nipple while the other travels further down and starts to rub hard, rough circles your clit. You were already wet thinking about him, and now it starts to pull, slicking up your tighs and his desk but John doesnt care. It wouldnt be the first time he fucked you over his desk and it wouldnt be the last either. John makes you cum from just touching your clit before he removes his finger and rakes it through your hair, grabbing at the roots and pulling so your neck was barred to him.

He so desperately wanted to mark you, leaving bitea and hickeys over your skin to claim you as his but he couldnt, do he was gentle. Trailing kisses down your pulse point and across your collarbone, down your sternum going lower and lower until his face was in front of your pussy and he dove in like a man starved. Lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshley, a satisfying pop echoing in the room as he let go. His eyes stared up at you as you threaded your fingers through his hair, "you remember your safe word?" A nod from you is all he needs to keep going, teeth digging into the supple flesh of your tigh as he slowly slid teo fingers into your weeping hole. He made sure to push you to the edge and withdraw, over and over again until you were a crying mess and he had mercy on you, edging you again until again until he finally let you cum. He made sure you came for him 2 more times before he even entartained the thought of fucking you and when he finally pulled his cock out of his trousers (not having undressed yet, wanting your wetness to soak into his clothes) you nearly weeped from the pleasure and overstimulation when he entered you, all the way to the hilt in one go. And there was no way he was stopping until he pumped at least 2 loads into your gorgeous pussy.

He'll make you forget all about Graves, hell when hes done with you, you'll be lucky if you can even remember your own name and don't walk away pregnant.

[munariplans]

forty, love | natasha romanoff

part 2 | part 3

synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.

natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader

word count: 4.9k words

a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.

masterlist

“slice forehand.”

thwock. 

“inside-out forehand.”

another thwock.

“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”

despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache. 

“not fast enough?” you quipped. 

he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”

you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”

“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”

he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room. 

natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.

she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”

“coach said otherwise.”

“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”

you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”

natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”

“baby–”

“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now. 

“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”

“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”

you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least. 

“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous. 

suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own. 

“nat–”

“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”

you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”

natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.

but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself. 

“i understand.”

she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”

– 

natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself. 

“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute. 

you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”

your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”

you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”

“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”

“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”

“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.

natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open. 

the both of you left shortly after. 

– 

in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing. 

it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win. 

but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought. 

thwock. a missed shot from your end.

another thwock. “out!”

by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost. 

natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left. 

the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you. 

“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates. 

“come on, we just wanted–”

“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”

the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.

she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”

“losing isn’t very nice.”

“they meant well, baby.”

“no, they don’t.”

“how many times do i have–”

“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”

“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”

natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always. 

your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get. 

then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it. 

you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”

she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed. 

– 

i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with  natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm. 

which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room. 

“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.

checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.

it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place. 

you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm. 

when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry. 

so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.

– 

steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches. 

you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration. 

she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.

when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night. 

– 

you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.

your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then. 

she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today. 

but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”

he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”

“...right.”

“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”

“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled. 

“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder. 

instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore. 

you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else. 

that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.

– 

but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam. 

natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”

you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer. 

steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months. 

turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning. 

you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more. 

–

thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.

a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.

last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock. 

the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals. 

you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning. 

the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse. 

–

it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over. 

natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did. 

when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television. 

but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off. 

she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked. 

but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.

but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you? 

you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.

to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital. 

she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.

natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?

what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.

“nat.”

she looked up. “yes?”

“tell me it doesn’t matter.” 

natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”

“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”

“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”

you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”

natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”

“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”

“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?” 

you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.

natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.

she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”

“please.”

“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”

– 

thwock. thwock. thwock. 

princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.

your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear. 

princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport. 

break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over. 

you weren’t quick enough. princeton won. 

a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?

[acklesarchives]

NSFW headcanons - Ruby

Ruby x female!reader 18+

Content warnings : teasing, kissing, begging, talking you through it

Very self explanatory loll, pretty much smut just in headcanon form

Word count ; 891

Minors PLEASE do not interact !!

── .✦ She Takes Her Time Wrecking You

⟢ Ruby’s not just about rough, fast, desperate—she likes to take her time, dragging things out until you’re trembling under her touch. She’ll pin you down, straddle your hips, and smirk as she traces slow, deliberate circles over your skin.

⟢ Every touch is measured, every move designed to make you squirm. She wants to see how much you need her, how worked up she can get you before she finally gives in and gives you what you want. And even then, it’s only when she’s satisfied with how ruined you already look for her.

── .✦ She’s Wickedly Good With Her Hands

⟢ Ruby’s fingers are her favorite weapon. The way they tease, the way they press into your skin, the way she hooks them just right to make you gasp.

⟢ She loves pinning your wrists above your head with just one hand while the other slowly trails down your body, barely touching, making you shiver in anticipation. Her voice is smooth, teasing as she murmurs, “I could keep this up all night, sweetheart. You think you can handle that?”

── .✦ She Talks You Through It, and It’s Filthy

⟢ Ruby has a way with words, and she knows it. She’ll murmur in your ear while she’s working you over, voice low and sultry: “That’s it, baby—just like that. Let me hear you.”

⟢ She lives for your reactions, for the way your breathing changes, for the way you shudder under her. And if you ever try to hold back a moan? Oh, she notices. And she doesn’t like it. She’ll stop whatever she’s doing, grip your chin, and smirk: “What’s the matter, angel? You getting shy on me? That��s cute. But I want to hear you.”

── .✦ She’s Possessive in the Most Sinful Ways

⟢ Ruby doesn’t just want you—she owns you in the most intoxicating way. She needs to see the evidence of what she’s done to you the next day. She loves the marks she leaves—bites, bruises, scratches running down your back. And she definitely loves tracing them with her fingers afterward, grinning to herself.

⟢ If someone even looks at you the wrong way after a night with her, she just leans in close, lips brushing your ear as she murmurs, “They don’t even know who you belong to, do they?”

── .✦ She’ll Make You Beg Just Because She Can

⟢ Ruby relishes in power, and that includes having you completely at her mercy. She likes seeing you desperate, writhing under her, pleading for more. And she makes you work for it.

⟢ She’ll ghost her lips over your skin, barely applying pressure, teasing you with slow, fleeting touches until you’re breathless, frustrated, and maybe even a little teary-eyed from how badly you need her. And that’s when she smirks, tilting your chin up with two fingers and whispering, “You’re so pretty when you beg. Say it again for me.”

── .✦ She Loves Eye Contact, and She Won’t Break It

⟢ There’s something about the way Ruby watches you—like she’s drinking in every little reaction. Whether she’s got you pinned beneath her or she’s taking her time going down on you, she holds your gaze. It’s deliberate, intense, almost intimidating.

⟢ If you try to look away? She’ll grab your chin, tilt your face back toward hers, and smirk: “Uh-uh, baby. I want you to look at me when I make you fall apart.”

── .✦ She’s Almost Too Good With Her Mouth

⟢ Ruby loves using her mouth on you, and it shows. She’s slow, deliberate, teasing you with soft kisses before diving in like she needs to taste you. She takes her time, hums against your skin just to drive you crazy, grips your thighs like she never wants to let go. And when you get close? She knows.

⟢ She’ll slow down just to tease you, chuckling as you whimper, before finally picking up the pace again, determined to pull you over the edge in the most earth-shattering way possible.

── .✦ She Gets Off on How Much You Trust Her

⟢ Beneath all the teasing, the control, the smug little smirks, there’s something deeper in the way Ruby touches you. She’s a demon—she knows she’s dangerous—but the fact that you trust her, that you let her do this to you, that you want her like this? It drives her wild.

⟢ There’s something almost reverent in the way she touches you sometimes, in the way she murmurs your name against your skin, in the way her hands shake just a little when she pulls you close after.

⟢ She won’t say it out loud, but she loves you in a way that’s all-consuming, and this is how she shows it.

── .✦ Her Aftercare Is Rough Around the Edges, but It’s There

⟢ Ruby’s not soft, not exactly. She’s not the type to whisper sweet nothings or cuddle up like a lovesick fool. But after? When she’s completely wrecked you? She’s there. She’ll tuck you against her, run her fingers through your hair, maybe press a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

⟢ She won’t say much, but she does murmur little things under her breath—“You good, sweetheart?” or “Damn, look at you. You okay?” She’ll smirk, tease you a little “Didn’t think you’d last that long, but you proved me wrong” —but if you’re too tired to move, she’ll get up, bring you water, and crawl right back into bed beside you like she never left.

Liz talks : this has been in my drafts foreveerrrr lmaoo but I wanted to get something out tn and I lowkey haven’t felt like writing anything so here’s this!!

Tags : @saltcxrcle , @vmiina , @nymphet-quenn , @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah

If you want to be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post!!

[elliespassagerprincess]

Abby x Butch reader who never bottomed before having there first orgasm and there basically spazzing out ‼️‼️‼️

tremble - abby anderson x butch!reader

hi anon!! i hope you like this... i deadass suck i writing smut.. i tried:(

masterlist

warning: NSFW content! MDNI 18+

You weren’t the kind of person to give up control.

You’ve led raids. Killed clickers with your bare hands. Sharpened your blade on a WLF helmet and walked away laughing. No one ever looked at you and thought submissive. No one dared.

No one until Abby.

You weren’t even sure when she started looking at you like that. Like she knew something you didn’t. Like she’d already won a game you hadn’t agreed to play.

And tonight? You’d let her take the lead — just once. Just to see what she had in mind. Just to prove you could handle it. You never saw it coming.

Abby has you splayed out on the mattress, the busted old springs creaking with every shift of her weight. Her thighs straddle yours, strong and sure, pressing you down without even trying. Her eyes gleam in the dim light, one brow cocked in that infuriating, cocky way.

"You sure you’ve never bottomed before?" Her voice is low, teasing.

You scoff, your arms braced behind you. "What do you think?"

She leans in, her hand wrapping around your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “I think you’re about to find out why people do.”

That shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But it does.

Her mouth crashes into yours—hungry, deep, demanding. She doesn’t ask. She takes. Her hands aren’t gentle. They wander like they own you, learning every sharp edge and smooth scar. You try to stay cocky. Tough. You’ve done this before—led before.

But Abby? She’s not interested in what you can do. She wants what you haven’t done.

And she’s patient. Methodical. Her fingers press at your limits, testing how far she can push before you flinch, before you bite back a sound. Every time you growl a warning, she smiles like she wants it.

When her mouth finds your neck, sucking a bruise just under your jaw, your breath hitches.

"Still got that attitude," she murmurs against your skin. "Let’s see how long it lasts."

Her hand slips between your thighs. You jerk like you’ve been shocked.

"Abby—"

"Relax."

It’s not the touch itself that breaks you. It’s the way she does it—slow, knowing, devastating. Like she’s been here before. Like she studied your anatomy better than you ever did. Like she enjoys watching you unravel.

And you do.

Against every instinct, your hips jerk into her hand. Your breath comes short and ragged. Your hands tremble.

"You’re close already?" she teases, her voice dark silk. "You’re fucking shaking."

You want to snap something back, but your tongue won’t work. Your brain's gone static. Heat coils through you—tight, electric, burning.

You've never felt it like this. And when it hits—when that tight, impossible heat snaps—it’s like your body betrays you completely. You twitch, full-body, a desperate noise catching in your throat before it bursts free, unfiltered and raw.

Your vision goes white. Your thighs lock around her. You gasp, shudder, curse. You spasm.

Abby doesn’t stop. Doesn’t flinch.

She watches. Eyes locked on yours like she’s memorizing the way you fall apart. Like she planned for this moment.

When you finally sag back, your chest heaving, she leans over you. Sweat beads at her temples. Her smirk is damn near predatory.

"Still think you’re in control?"

You can’t speak. Can barely breathe. Your hand claws at her bicep, the only thing grounding you.

She leans down, voice velvet-drenched steel.

“That was your first?”

You nod, once. Maybe twice.

She kisses your temple, slow and satisfied.

“Oh, baby... we’re just getting started.”

You’re still catching your breath when Abby shifts her weight and leans back on her knees, the soft creak of the bed dragging you out of your haze.

You're still stunned. Still twitching every few seconds like the aftershocks are dancing under your skin. It’s almost embarrassing—your fingers won’t quite obey, your chest still stutters with each inhale.

She’s watching you.

Her face isn’t smug anymore. It’s darker than that—hungry. Intent.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?” she murmurs, running a thumb along the underside of your jaw. “That wasn’t even my best.”

You glare at her, or try to. Your eyelids are heavy. Your body’s still locked in that strange high—your muscles loose, your brain buzzing.

And still... craving.

Abby sees it before you can say it. Your hips shift just slightly, unconsciously, and her expression twists into something downright cruel.

“Oh,” she says, soft and sharp, “you liked that. Look at you. Legs shaking. Pupils blown out. Fuck.”

Her hand trails down your stomach again.

You catch her wrist. “Wait.”

That one word surprises both of you. Abby tilts her head, but doesn’t pull away. Her voice loses the mockery, but none of the control.

“Too much?”

You shake your head. You don’t want her to stop. But you’ve never felt this raw before—never let someone touch you like this. You’re butch. Tough. You fuck. You don’t fall apart.

You don’t ask.

But here you are. Half-limp, overwhelmed, wrecked, and still burning for her. She leans closer, lips brushing your ear.

“Say it.”

“Say what?” you rasp, half defensive, half breathless.

“That you want me to keep going.” Her palm presses just above where you’re still aching. “You can take it.”

You should say no.

You should flip her over, regain control, prove this was a one-time fluke.

Instead… you nod. It’s humiliating. It’s thrilling. She smiles like she owns you now.

This time, she doesn’t tease. Her mouth is on your chest, your ribs, your stomach—biting, sucking, marking a trail. Her hands are confident, knowing exactly how to touch you, when to press and when to drag out the tension until you’re writhing again.

“You’re so sensitive now,” she murmurs, two fingers slick and slow between your thighs. “Never felt this good before, huh?”

You try to grit your teeth. Try to hold on to something. But then she curls her fingers just right.

Your whole body arches like it’s been pulled by strings.

“Fuck—!” It bursts out of you, choked and wild. Your hand flies to her wrist, not to stop her—just to hold on.

She laughs, low and hungry. “There it is.”

Your second orgasm crashes into you like a wave over glass—sharp, clean, unstoppable. It tears through you, from your core to your fingertips, and your legs kick once—uselessly—before you go rigid.

Then limp. Then silent.

Abby stays with you through it. Her free hand strokes your side, grounding you while her other fingers finally still, sliding free with a wet drag that makes you flinch.

She leans in again, whispering into the shell of your ear.

“You’re fucking beautiful when you come.”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer.

She kisses your cheek, then the corner of your mouth, warm and slow. The contrast from earlier—rough to tender—makes your head spin.

“I’ll get you some water,” she murmurs, finally.

You nod once, dizzy.

As she stands and moves toward the tiny kitchen, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the cracked mirror across the room. Hair a mess. Face flushed. Throat marked up. Legs open, trembling slightly. And your expression? Half-shocked, half ruined.

You don't even recognize yourself.

And the worst part?

You want more.

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

NSFW!! How would the diaboys react to their s/o having a male childhood best friend who's obviously in love with them and is kind of touchy and stuff but she can't cut ties with him

Shu Sakamaki

He’s lazy—until he isn’t. The second he sees your friend brush your hair out of your face or linger a little too long in a hug, that apathy turns razor-sharp.

“Tch… Don’t come crying to me when he finally snaps and tries to fuck you.” Later that night, he drags you to bed without a word, pressing your wrists above your head lazily as he marks your chest with bites, grumbling, “He’ll smell me on you. Let’s see if he still wants you after I ruin you like this.”

Reiji Sakamaki

He views your refusal to cut the guy off as willful disobedience. He’s not mad at the friend—he’s furious at you.

“How humiliating… My woman, allowing some lovesick fool to paw at her. Do you enjoy being degraded?” He punishes you with controlled, dominant sex—meticulously timed denial, your hands bound behind your back with his tie, overstimulating you until you sob his name. Then he whispers darkly in your ear, “You’ll crawl back to me when he fails to satisfy the whore he thinks you are.”

Ayato Sakamaki

He’s furious, childish, possessive. The second he sees your friend get touchy, he’s yelling.

“OI CHICHINASHI! You’re MINE. Not his, not anyone’s. You think this is a joke?!?” He drags you to the nearest surface and fucks you in broad daylight with no shame, moaning about how only his cock can make you tremble like this. His grip leaves bruises. “Bet that bastard’s never even touched a girl like this. Say it! SAY YOU’RE MINE!”

Kanato Sakamaki

Oh, he’s unhinged. He doesn’t even get mad in the moment—he stares with wide eyes, then later corners you.

“You’d rather spend time with him…? Maybe I should rip his arms off so he can’t touch you again…” You try to calm him, and he snaps. The sex is intense, possessive, tear-filled. He makes you beg, cry, and chant his name like a prayer. “If you really love me, you’ll never see him again. Or I’ll make sure you can’t.”

Laito Sakamaki

He acts chill—but underneath is a coiling serpent of jealousy. He teases you.

“Aw~ Bitch-chan, is that your little prince charming~? So cute how he’s trying so hard…” Then he shows you exactly who really owns your body. He fucks you from behind while whispering, “You’re thinking of him? Should I let him watch you break while I use you like this? Would you like that, you naughty girl?”

Subaru Sakamaki

He’s hurt. The moment he notices, he clenches his fists and glares. He tries not to explode.

“Why… Why the fuck do you keep going back to him? Don’t I matter?” The sex is rough, raw, emotionally messy. He grips your hips so tightly it hurts, panting, “Tell me you belong to me—only me. Please. I… I need to hear it.” He’s more afraid of losing you than he is of the other guy.

Ruki Mukami

He smiles politely at your friend, but it’s a facade.

“Livestock… you’re so foolish. Allowing someone else to handle what’s mine? Disobedient pets need punishment.” He gives you the most humiliating night of your life—ordered to cum on command, gagged, collared, blindfolded, until you’re babbling his name. “Let’s engrave who you belong to. Over and over… until he can taste me on your skin.”

Kou Mukami

At first he’s jealous and clingy. Then the mask slips.

“You know… maybe I should blind him. That way, he can’t stare at you like that anymore.” He films you sucking him off while whimpering, “Tell the camera who you really belong to. Say you’ll never let anyone else see this pretty mouth like this.” He posts just your lips moaning his name to his private fan group. The next time you see your friend, he looks flushed. Coincidence?

Yuma Mukami

He’s livid. He almost punches the guy on sight.

“Ya lettin’ that twig touch you like that? Are you dumb or just beggin’ to be claimed all over again?” He bends you over, no prep, grunting, “I’ll stretch this pussy so good, you won’t even remember his fuckin’ name.” Spanking, hair-pulling, primal fucking. The next time the guy hugs you, Yuma glares with satisfaction at the faint bruises on your thighs.

Azusa Mukami

He smiles… slow, sad, and dangerous.

“If… he hurts you… I can make him stop breathing… slowly… would you like that?” You end up tied to his bed while he makes love to you agonizingly slow, whispering between kisses, “Only I… can love you like this. He.... could never.... understand your pain the way I do…” He leaves hickeys over your heart and tells you, “Now you’re mine… inside and out…”

Shin Tsukinami

He growls when the guy touches you.

“You think I’ll let another male challenge my claim? Keep dreaming.” He fucks you like it’s a territorial battle—biting your neck, scratching your back, rutting into you until your legs shake. “You’re not allowed to see him again unless I fuck you first. Every. Single. Time.”

Carla Tsukinami

He’s eerily calm. But the danger is palpable.

“You’re provoking me… Do you wish to see how far my jealousy goes?” He ruins you with slow, deep strokes, forcing eye contact, telling you exactly what he’ll do to your friend if he dares try to claim you. “He touches what is mine again… and I will peel his skin from his bones while you watch.”

Kino

He mocks your friend to your face.

“Aww, he loves you? That’s so precious. Maybe he can hold your hand while I fuck your brains out~” He takes a selfie of himself eating you out with a smug wink, then says, “If he really loves you, he’ll take the hint when you ghost him… after your fourth orgasm tonight.”

Richter Sakamaki

He’s smug and sadistic.

“How naive… You let a puppy think he can rival a beast like me?” He has you ride him while he watches your friend’s texts pop up on your phone, snickering as you tremble and try to hide. “Ignore him, or I’ll make you cum with my fangs in your throat.” You never answer the texts again.

[revelboo]

Broken Arrow Pt 5

TFP Megatron x Reader- training

• Flexing his stiff servos, he lets himself into his quarters. Hears the silvery sound of your leash before he spots you. Your eyes dart over him, little shoulders easing once you’re sure he’s dealt with his wounds. Like his little pet really does care. His smirk falters for a moment as he reaches for you, wrapping his servos around you to carry you to his berth. Feels you tense in his grip as he leans back, depositing you on his chassis and pressing a servo between your shoulders until you kneel. Satisfied, he slides that servo down your spine. “I brought you a gift, pet.”

• Wincing as he lifts that servo to run the tip of a claw along the line of your throat, forcing your head to the side you don’t resist. A gift? Like the leash around your neck? Your eyes narrow as he bares those sharp denta at you and extends his other hand, a thick, faux fur blanket dangling from his servos. Something warm because you’re always cold and it’s all you can do to not lunge for it. Because this? He actually brought you something you need, a gift that’s not meant to infuriate you.

• There it is, that spark of hunger in your eyes. You want it, but you just curl your little fingers into fists on top of your thighs. Waiting patiently. “Being good today?” He rumbles, still holding the present out in one hand as he slides the clawed tip of a servo down your throat, along your sternum until your breathing hitches and your eyes flash with alarm. Down your front over your soft middle and lower and then you break, finally smacking at his servo, eyes wide and face flushed. Chuckling he relents and drapes the blanket about your shoulders and hooks a servo under your chin to tip your head up.

• And you have grit your teeth, remind yourself not to give him the satisfaction of knowing you’re pleased with the gift or what those little caresses do to you. He’s the enemy. Even if it’s harder and harder to convince yourself of that and worse, he knows because of the way you made him go deal with his wounds. You only had to do that because the big, bad idiot was going to just sit there and bleed energon rather than go to the medbay. As much as you hate him, because you do, you also need him alive. You’ve seen the way that freaky spider lady stares at you, your skin crawls any time she’s near. That one is definitely fantasizing about murdering you and decorating her room with your guts. “Nothing to say?” He growls, optics amused and indulgent. Like he not only expects you to snap at him, but he’s looking forward to it.

• Your eyes narrow as he slides that servo under your chin up along your cheek in an almost tender caress, claw tip ghosting over your bottom lip to try and get a rise out of you. “Thank you,” you hiss, fingers fisting in the blanket as you mime biting his servo and he freezes in surprise, heat rushing through him at the halfhearted little threat. Those eyes glare up at him, defiant and he smiles down at you. Such a good little pet.

Previous Next

[solbaby7]

I Dare You

pairing: cassian x reader

warnings:prolly some typos, kinda douchebag!cass but very minimal, sexual tension, swearing, mentions of drinking, (literally have any of you ever gone bull riding before? bc that shit is not for the weak)

summary: Cassian doesn’t think you’re capable of letting your hair down to have some fun. I dare you to prove him wrong.

—

Someone must’ve laced your drink.

They had to have.

It was the only logical explanation for the unusual feelings beginning to churn knots in your gut the longer you took in the handsome planes of Cassian’s face.

Usually, it was easier to overlook when you were sober, too off-put by his demeaning comments and endless sexual innuendos to truly focus on the sharp cut of his jaw or the stubble that resided there. The tempting plush of his bottom lip captures your focus, its glistening from the cheap beer overflowing his cup and the foreign thought of what they would felt like pressed against your own evades your senses.

You blame it on the ambiance.

This place was no Rita’s, not nearly as cozy or tucked away but something about the clubs hypnotic hues of rich purples and soft blues casting over Cassian’s cheeks had your head slowly tilting to the side in silent appreciation.

Had he always had that dimple when he smiled?

“Truth or dare?” Mor yells over the thumping music, effectively breaking you free from your trance and stealing your attention. A bright grin is plastered across her face induced by the empty shot glasses on the table before her.

Your head shakes on instinct, not nearly as prone to letting loose as the rest of the Inner Circle. The outfit alone was far enough out of your comfort zone as is, allowing Mor and Feyre to use you like a baby doll; curling your hair and applying makeup over excited giggles and shared bottles of bubbly. The borrowed fabric sticks to you like second skin, its halter neckline more comfortable than you’d care to admit and the cool breeze of passerby’s on your exposed back is welcome. The tight bodice blends seamlessly into the flowy skirt that tickles the middle of your thighs, showing off more leg than you usually cared to bare but it had looked too nice against your figure to complain. “I don’t really—“

“Don’t even bother,” Cassian interjects, a beer clutched in one hand while the other rested lazily on the back of the booth. “She always says no.”

“That’s not true.”

It was.

You blamed it on their High Lord’s inability to complete his paperwork and file them properly afterwards. When you’d first arrived, there had been centuries worth of paperwork strewn about his storage room in no true order with the subjects varying from treaties and common laws on trade routes to pages worth of detailed documentation dividing up ownership of land. Blueprints for potential and current properties with box after box of receipts kept to keep track of the billing it took to run such a place—much less a whole city.

Simply put, you’d been stuck in work-mode; refusing casual outings and generous offerings of chilled bottles shared over dinner for months until you’d finally made a dent sizable enough to satisfy you. There’s no point in bothering to explain any of that to Cassian though, biting your words over the rim of your glass and the burn on your tongue is soothed by the sweet mixer. “Oh really?” He goads, a cocky glint in golden eyes as he leans forward, shoulders straining in the dark cotton of his shirt . “Answer her then, truth or dare?”

There’s a long pause—one long enough for Rhysand to clear his throat, fully prepared to diffuse the situation but your voice cuts through before he can. “Dare.” It’s spoken stronger than you feel and you muster up the courage to meet his eye as if you hadn’t just been gobbling up the miles of endless muscle packed onto his body.

“I dare you to let loose for once in your boring little life.” Feyre scoffs her disapproval at his wording, a hand smacking at Cassian’s arm but he doesn’t react as if he can even feel it. He’s utterly fixated on you, body language lax and still somehow emitting such a domineering presence it makes your feet shift in high heels. “Unless you’re too prude to even let your hair down?”

A brow arches and you ignore the burn creeping up your neck at the looks your friends are sharing, clearly having a mental conversation on who was going to have to intervene this time. Saving them the trouble, you comply. “Fine.” You’re too occupied in chugging the remnants of your drink to notice the surprised expression crossing the General’s face. He doesn’t miss you though, witnessing a mischievous darkness clouding your eye before you rise from the booth and squeeze through the endless sea of bodies.

“I don’t understand your problem with her,” Mor grumbles with distaste, a hand outstretching for the latest round of drinks being provided by the waiter. “She’s nice.”

“She’s boring,” Cassian promptly retorts, eyes sifting over the crowd in search for a flash of your dusky red dress but it’s nowhere to be found. His spine straightens ever so slightly, the grip on his glass tightening in his silent surveillance for you. “When you said you were hiring a female who’d be around so often that she’d be living with us, I hoped she’d be more…eventful.”

“Is that truly your reasoning, brother?” Rhys drawls out playfully, tugging his mate in closer to his side. A glass of whiskey is in his free hand, tilting the bottom of it tauntingly in Cassian’s direction as he pretends to ponder. “Or maybe it’s because you keep antagonizing her in hopes that she’ll notice you and yet she barely gives you anything back in return? Her passiveness must eat you up at night.”

It earns the High Lord a few laughs and even Azriel can’t hide the amused upturn of his mouth at Cassian’s expense but the Lord of Bloodshed can’t even begin to be bothered with that.

Not when his sights finally land on that sinful shade of red gripping at the curves contained within them. Cassian can’t even hear his family anymore, eardrums tuning out everything that wasn’t you as he watches the way you lean in towards one of the nicely dressed workers with a smile. The exchange is quick but Cassian doesn’t miss a thing, noting the challenging quirk of the males brow and he leads you behind a thick curtain that sectioned off a portion of the bar he hadn’t even noticed until now.

Words can’t describe the way losing his visual on you makes his skin itch, wings twitching with his irritation and the tense line of his shoulders doesn’t release for even a second. A plethora of thoughts plague Cassian’s mind. Surely you hadn’t taken his jest as an invitation to go be with some other male? Even if it would’ve been well within your right it was the furthest from his intentions.

“Run out of witty remarks?” Rhysand prods further, voice full of humor but there’s a hint of serious questioning lingering in his eye. “Or have I stunned you to complete silence?”

Feyre catches on quicker than her counterpart, following Cassian’s line of sight, watching as the same curtains you’d disappeared behind starts beginning to rise, a thundering chime ringing through the bar. “I don’t think it’s you who has him speechless.”

The others follow her gaze and quiet fascination sets root when more space is revealed. Situated right in the middle of the newly revealed stage is what seems to be the magical apparition of a fake bull, complete with horns and a nose that huffed out smoke. It’s one hell of a spectacle that has the inebriated crowd cheering with joy at the promise of such extravagant entertainment. “Trouble is in the house tonight. Let’s welcome her warmly.” The male announces, guiding you into the light and spinning you around for all to take in.

Cassian’s teeth grit together, disturbingly aware of every eye and muttered comment directed your way and his fingers twitch for the familiar weight of his sword. “No way...” He whispers in complete disbelief as you approach the bull with a practiced ease, hoisting yourself on its back with the swipe of your leg.

The motion is fluid, thighs shifting to get situated and the new position hikes up the hem of your dress. All the bare skin that is revealed makes his mouth water, elbows leaning against the table to brace himself.

Your gaze finds Cassian’s easily in the crowd, a devious smirk forms in the corner of your mouth and the wink you send his way has his cock twitching to life in his breeches.

Music flows through the space—a sensual tempo with a bass so deep it rattles the very blood in your body. There’s no explaining why you find such a comfort in it but you submit to the numbness it provides anyway, relishing in the absence of thought as you melt into the beat.

One hand latches securely around the saddle and the well-dressed employee begins his skilled control of the bull. It’s a slow rock, movements mechanical and jerky but you make it look graceful—hips shifting back and forth over and over as the speed increases. You barely look up, too caught up in synchronizing your body with the music, spurred on by the generous cheers from the other drunken fae with energy to burn and coins to spend.

Faster and faster the bull rocks, spinning you from left to right but your remain saddled in place, core strong and thighs braced for the chaotic jostling. Haughty whistles cut through the crowd when the bull abruptly tips forward, shifting the fabrics of your dress until you were face down, ass up and flashing the lacy boy shorts you had on underneath. “Come on,” You whine prettily to the male in control of the mechanism, hair spilling to one side of your face and a pretty blush fans across your cheeks at the salacious exposure. “That all you got?”

“Hold on tight.”

You’re grateful for obtaining the good sense it takes to heed the warning because in an instant the bull is jerking back to life, spinning and rocking in an attempt to shake you off. Jubilant laughter pelts free, hair blowing in the wind and dress flashing more of the soft skin that Cassian was just dying to get his fill of.

He’s been bested—that much the Commander can admit but it doesn’t feel like a loss when you feed his filthy fantasies without even trying. The roll of your waist will surely plague his dreams but the effortlessly seductive glint in your eye will haunt him to his dying breath.

It doesn’t dissipate. Not even when you finally tap out, easing yourself down on shaky legs and shuffle back to the shared booth with a breathy huff.

A peachy sheen has overtaken your cheeks at the bewildered stares your friends give you for your performance but the mess of your curls splaying around your shoulders has Cassian’s heart racing when imagining the others ways he could put you in such a state.

The others watch in complete silence as you steal the beer right from Cassian’s hands, cool condensation dripping down your fingers but you pay it no mind. “It seems that I am plenty of fun to be around,” He watches the slow roll of your throat as you swallow, unable to look away. “But that’s usually reserved for after hours.”

Cassian’s gaze darkens under the implication, lids heavy with desire. “Noted.”