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lady-lauren · 4 months ago

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❥ KENTO NANAMI X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.6k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: breeding, talk of pregnancy (but no actual babies here), power dynamics (boss/assistant), age gap, praise, wrists bound with tie, creampie, Nanami is sweet but mean always, use of "good girl", reader is really subby and so am I

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“So this is what you feel like, hm?”

Nodding against the mess of his desk, you coo, all bubbly and sweet as your nails grip into his tie around your wrists. Nanami runs a hand down your spine, eyes unfiltered by his glasses as he marvels at how you shiver and react to his touch.

Just the tip of his fat cock is popped inside you, snugly wrapped by the first ring of muscle he’s yet to bully past.

Even as your thighs clench and pussy drools, you stay still, quiet, just like he told you to.

So well mannered.

Would you be this sweet if he fucked you as deviantly as he desires? Would you bat your long lashes and say please every time he demands to fuck you? He’s certain you would—so willing to please and be pleased.

Soft skin and even smoother voice, like a housecat curling around his legs every time you come near. Shy but keen, claws ready for anyone but your owner.

Over the course of a few months, Nanami has boiled down to a singular purpose—to breed his perfect assistant and fill her needy cunt with his seed.

Pussy lips bulge around him as he pushes into you raw. You hiccup at the intrusion, ass arching to accommodate the stretch of him. Desire claws inside his chest and begs to force himself into you, and for once, he listens to the beast.

Jerking your bound wrists, he spears into you while pulling you back, bouncing your cheeks against his pelvis and making you whine behind clenched teeth.

He uses you for leverage, not bothering to cant his hips when he can simply tug you back and forth along the length of him.

“This wasn’t my intention, sweetheart,” he admits with a deep grunt, “but you’re just such a good girl, aren’t you? I can’t help myself.”

For weeks he’s imagined you like this, even pictured tucking you under his desk and shoving his cock so far past your sweet lips that he can see himself in your throat. But spilling his cum on your tongue would be such a waste—your body was made for breeding. Doughy in all the right spots, with tits begging to be filled with milk.

A strong hand grabs the curve of your ass and pulls, thumb lifting the soft fat so he can watch how your cunt sucks around his cock. So greedy.

“No more panties, ever,” Nanami groans as his cockhead thrums against the sponginess of your walls.

“Of–of course, sir.”

“No more sirs, either. Wanna hear my name in your mouth.”

He grins at how the first consonant of his name gets stuck in your throat as he fucks into you, a blubbering stutter of k-k-ken~ blended into hushed moans.

The sky is dark but he knows a few workaholics are still roaming the office. They don’t deserve to hear your melodic sounds. They’ll know your his by the way his cum will leak past the hem of your skirt, smear against your thighs.

Nanami leverages you up, fingers mean against your trapped wrists as he slams your back to his chest. The angle has his cock digging into one of your softest spots.

He bends to run his nose along the length of your neck, tongue licking at the remnants of your too familiar perfume. Over your shoulder he watches how your tits bounce with every plunge of his cock into you, free and unbound, nipples just the hue he imagined. He grabs your breast and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, groaning when you flutter from the shock of pleasure.

So young and pliant.

“You know what your next assignment is, sweetheart?”

His hand smoothes down to the bottom of your tit, gripping the fat up into his palm so he can squeeze.

You coo at his actions, bucking down onto his cock. Your cunt squelches as your slick soaks into the blonde curls at his base.

“Answer me.”

His palm trails down past your ribs, pawing at your stomach. He presses hard, knocking air from your lungs as he catches how his cock thumps, thumps, thumps in your guts.

Your head tosses back against his chest, neck craning as you look for him with watery eyes. Mascara dripping down your cheeks, lips swollen from the kisses he took from you when you came to offer your help with his overtime work.

“T–to be your fucktoy?” you answer with a breathy, hopeful gasp.

“Even better,” he feels like a sick fuck when the words rolls of his tongue, “to have my babies.”

The way you squirm and mewl in his hold tells him everything he needs to know.

“Yeah? You like the idea of an older man filling you until you swell with a baby?”

“Yes, ah, Kento, yes.”

So, so well mannered. You know how much it pisses him off if you don’t use your words.

He drags your wrists farther back, making your body arch until your knees tremble and your darling high heels scrape against the floor. His hand moves down, cupping the front of your pussy so his fingers can smear along the edges of where he spreads you.

Nanami ensures that the back of his hand keeps the sharp edge of his desk from pressing into your sensitive body.

“Tell me exactly what you want.”

He watches how you try to think, eyebrows pulling together as you attempt to focus on anything other than the sweltering heat he’s stirring with every fast, harsh push of his aching dick into your cunt.

“Want to feel you cum in me,” you mumble quickly, words splashed together, “over and over again.”

A thick finger pushes against your clit, just barely, teasing enough to make your tummy tighten and thighs shake.

“Hm,” he groans with a smile against your throat as the most pleasant idea comes to mind. “You want me to start taking you home? Let me mount you in my bed to make sure the seed takes?”

The sound you make is salacious and strained, like you’re trying so hard to be a good girl and not scream.

“Keep me,” you plead oh so sweetly. Like that was ever out of the question.

Nanami hooks his fingers harder between the threads of his tie, tangling his fingers with yours behind your back. A small moment of grounding you, reassuring you, before he shoves you so roughly back down to his desk that papers and pens clatter to the floor.

Hoisting your hips to meet his, he puts the hand on your cunt to work, rubbing two experienced fingers over your swollen clit.

He leans over your body for a better angle, even hikes one knee onto his desk so he can pound you into it.

“Need you to milk my fucking cock, understand?” His breath fans over the back of your neck and he notices how you’ve bitten your cheek between your teeth.

You’re such a mess, naked and trembling over your boss’s desk, pussy squishing with every intense bully of his cock into your gummy, abused hole.

“I understand,” you practically choke on your words, “ ‘m so close, K–Kento, promise.”

His lips suck against the back of your shoulder, sharp teeth grinning like a madman.

He hired you after you told him you never, ever make promises you can’t keep. You’d always be honest, never lie if you felt you couldn’t get the work done.

“You promise to take my babies, sweetheart? Promise you’ll let me get you pregnant?”

The picture of you ripe with his baby, hand over your swollen tummy as you bustle around the office, in his house, is too clear. Too inebriating.

“I sw–swear.”

“That’s my good girl.”

You deserve a reward, perhaps even a raise.

Nanami turns all his focus to how heavy his balls feel and how puffy your poor clit is. He becomes an efficient machine, barreling into you systematically as his fingers swirl in tight, purposeful circles.

Slick is drooling through his knuckles, messing all over the planner on his desk. He has the quick thought of how he will have to start filling his calendar with the days you’re ovulating. How delightful.

“Please, please, please,” you try to keep your whines smothered by the lacquered wood.

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll give you anything you want, sweet girl.”

And he does just that, building enough heat in your tummy to make you start convulsing. Your orgasm is the tightest suck he’s ever felt, all desperate and hot and rhythmic like your body took his words to heart and intends to milk him dry.

Finally he comes undone, loading your body with continuous spurts of syrupy cum. He can feel cum pooling in your snug cavern, squishing against his cock every time your cunt pulses with your bliss.

He stays still, his weight shamefully falling onto your back and trapping you beneath him. Your heartbeat echoes against his desk. Molten cum bursts from where his cock is still lodged within you, like pasty watercolor smearing across skin.

Straightening his tired back, he groans and peels himself from your spent body. Before he can pull his hips back, your tied hands start reaching desperately for him, smacking against his thigh.

Fine. He can keep you plugged up with cum as long as you want.

“Thank you,” you exhale with the remnants of your pleasure.

So well mannered. You’ll make the perfect mommy.

#kinktober #nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #tw.breeding #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami smut #jjk smut #nanami x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #dripping banner by @/adorenedwithlight

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sleepincrow · 3 months ago

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suguru geto plays with your boobs when hes injured, by the way, just wanna let you know.

its nothing too bad, but suguru likes to sit behind you and draw little circles on your bare hips underneath your baggy shirt.

you had wanted to read to him, pamper him. after all, his leg is pretty much broken right now. so you just wanted to be a good girlfriend.

but the way his overworked hands slide up your sides so gently like you're the most fragile piece of architecture made you stumble over your words.

"baby, what are you doing?" you inquire, almost threatening to close your book.

"shh, just let me feel you, angel, keep reading." his lips are right behind your ear and you swore you could feel the lightest plush of his lips against your skin.

but how could you really? the way his fingers trail closer to your chest makes the plethora of sentences in the book dance on your tongue, refusing to halt their relentless tango.

soon enough, the warm palms of his hands hold your breasts so delicately, ever so gently squeezing them — playing with them. his thumbs rub over your perky nipples, making you let out a shaky breath.

his own chest is connected to the flat of your back, bent a little forwards as your smaller stature curls in the sparks of pleasure.

the book had long been forgotten. your own hands using it as leverage to keep you sat up as straight as you could, without progress, of course.

you knew long before he was skilled with his hands, somehow multiplying your pleasure by tenfold compared to playing with yourself.

suguru's uninjured leg comes to wrap around one of your own, gradually spreading your legs apart. a soft whimper slips between your parted lips when you feel the cold air grazing your barely covered pussy.

now you debate on whether or not just panties to bed was a good idea.

too lost in the wonderland of growing pleasure, lips upon your shoulder going to the nape of your neck accompanied by whispered praises kept you distracted from the fact a hand had left your breast.

"y'so pretty, sweet angel." he cooed into you spit-slicked skin. eyes hungry for the way you contort your face into one of deep pleasure and fluster.

suguru would always find a way to lavish your perfect body. he worshipped you dearly, kissing every part of your skin like it was gifted by gods. he always found a way to praise you in action, even when he could not pin you against the soft silken sheets of your shared bed.

with a flick of a switch, a vibrating sound resonated within the dimly lit room

"be a good girl for me n' just sit still, look pretty, okay?"

not proofread. probably the first smut(?) ive acc posted AHHAH

#suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader smut #suguru geto smut #suguru geto x reader smut #jjk #geto smut

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pucksandpower · 9 months ago

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Crazy Cravings

Max Verstappen x wife!Reader

Summary: pregnancy cravings can make you (and your husband) do crazy things … neither of you particularly minds

Warnings: 18+ content and pregnancy

You sit in the Red Bull Racing garage, feeling the warm Spanish sun on your face through the open door. The roar of engines and whirring of power tools surrounds you as the mechanics prepare for the race.

Your eyes are drawn to the iconic blue and silver cans scattered around the garage. Those tantalizing cans of Red Bull that everyone else seems to be drinking so casually.

Everyone except you and Max, that is.

You rub your rounded belly, feeling your precious cargo kick and squirm inside you. At six months pregnant, your cravings have been … intense, to say the least. But none more powerful than your longing for the crisp, fizzy taste of Red Bull.

The caffeine is off limits, of course. You would never dream of jeopardizing your baby’s health. But oh, how you crave that sweet, energizing flavor that used to be such a routine part of your life.

Max emerges from the back room, his bright grey eyes instantly finding you. He strides over, that effortless confidence and raw athleticism making your heart flutter, even after all these years. His gaze drifts to the Red Bull can in a mechanic’s hand and a grimace crosses his face.

“Liefje, are you alright?” He murmurs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “I know how much those are torturing you lately.”

You force a smile, not wanting him to worry. “I’m fine, Maxie. Just … ignoring the siren call of carbonated temptation.”

His thumb strokes your cheek as he studies you, clearly not convinced. Max has been so incredibly supportive during this pregnancy, abstaining from Red Bull himself in solidarity. Cutting out his biggest vice, just so you don’t have to be tormented by the sight and scent of it everywhere.

“We should get you out of here,” he says, looping an arm around your waist to help leverage your bulk out of the chair. “The smells can’t be helping those crazy cravings.”

You open your mouth to protest, not wanting to pull him away from his work, but a fresh wave of dizzying desire hits you as a mechanic cracks open another can. The fizzing hiss and unmistakable scent make your mouth water uncontrollably.

“Max ...” you whisper, feeling your throat tighten with barely restrained craving and hormonal tears prickling your eyes.

He follows your yearning gaze to the Red Bull can and understanding dawns. “Oh, liefje ...” Scooping you into his arms, he strides from the garage, shooting an apologetic look at his crew.

Once outside in the fresh air, you bury your face against Max’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar, comforting cologne as he carries you to the motorhome. He eases you onto the couch, brushing kisses along your forehead and temple.

“I’m so sorry, schatje,” he murmurs, anguish lining his handsome features. “I hate seeing you suffer like this. If there was any way I could make the cravings stop ...”

You catch his hand, lacing your fingers through his calloused ones. “Max, you know I would never actually ask you to give up Red Bull, right?”

He shakes his head fiercely. “Not being able to have it for nine months is nothing compared to your sacrifice, carrying our baby. I don’t deserve you.”

Pulling him down beside you, you cup the chiseled line of his jaw, making him meet your gaze. “I happen to think you deserve the very best, Mr. Verstappen. And right now, the very best for both of us would be ...” Your voice cracks with fresh longing. “A damn Red Bull.”

Max’s eyes blaze with sudden determination, that iron willpower that has made him a champion coming to life. “Then that’s what I’ll get you. If those tossers at Red Bull Company won’t make a safe, caffeine-free version for pregnant women, I’ll personally make them regret it.”

You laugh shakily. “Max, you can’t just bully a corporation into creating a new product line for one person’s weird craving!”

“You’re not just one person,” he growls, tangling his fingers in your hair and bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You’re my everything. And our baby deserves for its mother to be happy and have her cravings satisfied.”

Pressing a fierce kiss to your lips, he adds, “I’m calling them right now. And then straight to the CEO, if I have to. I’ll get you that Red Bull if it’s the last thing I do.”

True to his word, the indomitable Max Verstappen spends the next several days working every possible connection and calling in every favor. You catch bits of conversations, his clipped tones making it clear just how serious he is about this bizarre quest.

“No, I don’t care if it’s not ‘cost-effective’. This is for my very pregnant wife ...”

“She’s risking her health to grow an entire person! The least your company can do is make a freaking caffeine-free energy drink ...”

The crew quickly learns not to open any Red Bull around you, lest they face the wrath of an overprotective Max. Which is slightly embarrassing … but also incredibly sweet.

Your hormones most definitely approve.

Finally, there’s a break in the stalemate. Helmut Marko himself shows up at the motor home, those bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, this is ridiculous. They will not reconfigure an entire product line just because Y/N is having a little … craving.”

You brace yourself for the explosion, but Max just levels Helmut with that intense stare. “If you could experience these cravings yourself, you would be singing a different tune. Y/N is sacrificing everything to have our baby. The least Red Bull can do is give her a safe option to have the flavor she misses so much.”

Helmut’s expression softens slightly at the obvious devotion in Max’s voice. “You know that corporate will never go for it. Not for just one person ...”

“Then make it for all the other pregnant women dealing with the same issues,” Max returns, unruffled. “Or is a company that plasters ‘Gives You Wings’ on every can really too cowardly to follow through on empowering people?”

You suck in a shocked breath at his daring play. But the flicker of anger and resigned capitulation in Helmut’s eyes shows that it worked.

“Fine, you little shit,” the older man growls. “I’ll talk to product development. But I’m not making any promises!”

Except somehow … Max’s sheer bullheaded tenacity eventually batters through all the corporate resistance and red tape. Three weeks later, an unmistakable bright blue can appears on the counter, the iconic Red Bull logo stamped across it.

“What’s this?” You ask in confusion.

Max slides an arm around your waist, beaming proudly. “Open it and see.”

You crack the seal, sniffing cautiously … and almost melt at the nostalgic, beloved scent of Red Bull. But just as you start to panic about caffeine, you notice the slightly different flavor.

“Max, is this ...”

He nods, grinning. “Zero caffeine but all the taste you’ve been craving. No more tears over those damn energy drink cans, okay?”

Throwing your arms around him, you yank his head down to capture his mouth in a grateful kiss. “Have I mentioned lately how incredible you are?”

“Once or twice,” he jokes, then sobers, cupping your belly. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make you and our baby happy.”

“You’re giving me everything I ever wanted and more.” You take a long pull of the perfectly flavored liquid, sighing in blissful satisfaction. “We hit the jackpot with you, Max Verstappen.”

He kisses you again, reveling in your obvious enjoyment. “The only jackpot I need is right here.”

***

Your baby bump has popped out to truly impressive proportions now at eight months along. What started as an innocent craving for Red Bull has escalated into an all-out physiological war.

Nothing seems to satisfy you for long — you’re a walking bundle of hormones and insatiable desires.

From the plush solitude of the Red Bull hospitality suite, you try not to gaze wistfully toward the Ferrari encampment. But you can’t resist fixating on the tantalizing cones of rich gelato constantly streaming from their hospitality tent.

Watching a couple of Ferrari mechanics stroll by, licking at scoops of pistachio and stracciatella, is enough to kickstart a powerful new yearning. Your mouth waters shamelessly as they pass, the creamy dessert leaving you weak in the knees. Before you can overthink it, you’re shuffling toward the entrance, one hand cradling your belly.

“Scusi,” you call out hesitantly as you peek inside. “Mi dispiace … is it possible to get some gelato?”

You half expect to be waved away — it’s well known that the Ferrari team is notoriously insular and protective of their spoils. But the cheerful greeting you receive is instantaneous and overwhelming.

“Madonna mia! Look at this beautiful piccina!”

Suddenly you’re engulfed by a whirlwind of chattering Italian voices, greeted by smiling faces from the team of elderly signoras who comprise the Ferrari hospitality staff. Weathered hands pat your belly and cheeks, clucking sympathetically at your swollen state.

“You poor bambina, absolutely enorme! Of course we’ll get you some gelato to refresh you. And biscotti too! You need to keep up your energy, si?”

You’re ushered toward a plush sofa, various grandmotherly types fussing over you like you’re the most delicate, precious thing. It’s … surprisingly wonderful. They clearly adore babies and pregnant women. You get the sense that indulging a mother-to-be is hardwired into their very beings.

A tray of gelato cups appears, the rainbow of flavors almost dazzling in their variety — chocolate, pistachio, prickly pear, lemon, stracciatella. Before you can reach for one, it’s plucked from your grasp.

“No no no! Leave it to Nonna Maria.” A stout signora with a green paisley dress and frosted silver curls shakes her head sternly. “I’ll start you with the lemon to whet your appetite. Then a nice creamy stracciatella as a proper treat for the bambino.”

The tangy flavor of the lemon gelato hits your craving exquisitely. As soon as you’ve polished off that cup, Nonna Maria presents another brimming with the creamy chocolate chip perfection of stracciatella. You moan in appreciation, unbothered by the chorus of approving noises from your doting new entourage.

Before you know it, you’ve been plied with cups of hazelnut, strawberry, and caramel flavors as well. These hospitable Italian ladies simply won’t be deterred from pampering a future mamma. As you scrape the last smears of gelato from a ramekin, a new grandmother settles on the sofa beside you.

“Now ... tell Nonna Gina what this little maschietto or bambina has been craving, eh?” She pats your belly affectionately. “We have chefs who can whip up anything your heart desires!”

Is it a pregnancy thing, this sudden wave of tears that blurs your vision? Or just being so insanely touched by the kindness and maternal care of these lovely strangers? You blink rapidly, swallowing hard.

“Honestly … gelato has been my biggest craving these past couple days. I don’t know if I can eat another bite.”

A chorus of disapproving gasps and tuts rises from the assembled grandmothers. “Bah! This pregnancy has ruined your appetite, piccina,” one crows, waving a hand dismissively. “We’ll soon get it back to rights, don’t you worry.”

For the next hour, you’re lavished with attention, fussed over and coddled like the most precious jewel. Cold drinks and chilled towels appear to keep you comfortable as the nonnas take turns sitting with you, petting your belly and swapping outrageous birth stories.

Their colorful Italian voices swell and ebb as they bicker over whose recipe for pasta al ragu is most authentic, who has the most grandchildren, and whose first-born grandson is most handsome.

It’s chaos and noise and overwhelming affection … and you’ve never felt so utterly content.

As the afternoon light slants golden through the awning, a familiar figure appears in the entrance, haloed by the fiery rays.

“Liefje? I’ve been looking everywhere ...” Max’s disbelieving gaze sweeps over the scene in front of him — you, surrounded by a veritable coven of grandmotherly Italians who seem entirely absorbed with you. “What in the world ...”

A chubby signora with a bright orange shawl wrapped around her ample form hops up, beaming widely. “Ahh! We have been absolutely spoiling your beautiful wife, of course. Did you know she had a craving for gelato? Well, no problem for us — we have taken her like one of our own bambinas!”

The others cluck and murmur in outraged agreement at his shocked expression.

“We absolutely will not let a piccina in such a state go hungry or uncomfortable! Now you sit down so we can get you a plate of some proper food too!”

Max gapes at you, utterly nonplussed as you grin back at him with unabashed glee, utterly stuffed with Italian desserts and reveling in the indulgent babying. You pat the space beside you invitingly.

“You’ve got to try Nonna Gina’s tiramisu, Maxie. It’ll knock your socks off.”

He settles beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulders and still looking rather dazed. But the instant the first warm smile and pat lands on his arm or knee, Max’s expression melts. This team of fussing Italian grandmothers has clearly adopted you both as their own.

Nonna Maria reappears, shoving a plate stacked with crispy arancini, indulgent risotto alla Milanese, and a creamy slice of tiramisu into your husband’s hands. “Eat up! You need to keep your strength up too, caring for this sweet cosa bella.” She plants bristly kisses on both your cheeks before scurrying off again.

Max watches her go, then turns to you with a bemused chuckle, squeezing you close. “Well, schatje. I have to hand it to you — at least your pregnancy cravings bring you to some … interesting places.”

You hum in agreement, perfectly content as you snuggle against his side. “Can you really think of a better place for me to nest?” You grin as another nonna appears to pat his cheek, welcoming him into the chaotic fold. “I think I may have just found my second family.”

He tilts your chin up, eyes sparkling with warmth. “Anything that makes you happy and keeps our baby healthy.”

As he kisses you tenderly, surrounded by clucking encouragement and rapturous croons of “bello, bellisimo” from your new Italian grandmothers, you know you’ve never felt so blissfully cherished.

You and Max make your way slowly back to the Red Bull motorhome, stuffed to the gills with gelato and trailed by a gaggle of besotted well-wishers calling out farewells and advice.

“I still can’t believe you managed to befriend the entirety of Ferrari hospitality,” Max laughs, helping ease you onto the couch in his driver’s room. He nudges your belly playfully. “This little one is shaping up to be quite the international charmer!”

“Says the man who single-handedly compelled Red Bull to create an entirely new product line,” you point out, patting your swollen middle contentedly. “I have a feeling this baby is going to be the most spoiled child on earth.”

Max settled beside you, gathering you close with a tender smile. “Can you blame all our people for wanting to give the world to you two?” His thumb traced your jawline reverently. “You’re carrying a little miracle, liefje.”

Your breath catches, as it so often did when he looks at you like that. Like you’re his entire universe. With so much pure adoration and love shining in those grey eyes.

“Our miracle,” you correct softly, cradling his calloused hand over your belly. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Not just supporting me … but giving me everything I could ever dream of.”

He opens his mouth like he wanted to protest, but you press on, needing him to understand how treasured he makes you feel.

“You don’t stop until I’m happy. Even when I get these raging, random cravings that probably seem crazy, you move heaven and earth to give me whatever I need. Most people would never ...”

“Neither of us is most people,” Max interrupts fiercely. He presses a searing kiss to your lips, then the swell of your abdomen. “You and our little one are my entire world. I’ll spend every day showing you how much I love you both, how grateful I am to have you in my life.”

Hormones raging, you pull his mouth back to yours, savoring the taste and feel of him surrounding you. When you finally part, you rest your forehead against his.

“In that case, you better rest up for tonight,” you tease. “I have a feeling that someone’s going to get a craving for sardines and waffles right around midnight.”

***

At nine months pregnant, you feel like a blissfully beached whale.

Your belly protrudes so massively that you can barely see your feet anymore. Simple tasks like tying your shoes or rolling over in bed have become awkward geometric obstacles. Max has to help you up from every chair or couch, his strong arms levering your frame into a vertical position.

Lingering in the paddock is no longer an option either. You’ve been gently but firmly ordered back home to Monaco to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

Thank goodness your nesting instincts are going full tilt — otherwise you might go stir crazy waiting for this little one to make their grand debut. You’ve rearranged and re-organized the nursery a dozen times, washed and rewashed all the tiny onesies and miniature accessories, and baked enough lactation cookies to feed an army of nursing mothers.

Really, there’s only one craving occupying your mind now …

The thump of shoes in the hall makes you look up eagerly. Max appears in the doorway of the sunlit nursery, loose waves of brown hair framing his face. The plain white tee stretches enticingly across his chest and shoulders, making your mouth water for an entirely different reason than food.

“Hey schatje,” he greets, eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes in your flushed cheeks. A knowing smirk tugs at one side of his mouth. “Were you just ... thinking about me?”

You shake your head adamantly, wincing as the motion makes your whole body ache in protest. “Maybe just a little. This particular craving is getting out of control.”

Crossing to you in two strides, Max cups your jaw and brings your lips crashing together in a searing kiss. His tongue sweeps demanding and possessive into your mouth, making you whimper faintly. That intoxicating masculine scent of fresh sweat, motor oil, and sandalwood surrounds you in an alluring cloud.

After all these years, just the taste and smell of your husband is enough to drench you in molten wanting. Baby or no baby, Max Verstappen is still the sexiest goddamn thing on two legs.

“Mmm, I know exactly what you need,” he rumbles against your neck, nipping a tingling path along your sensitive skin. “Luckily for you, I’ve got a free schedule all afternoon to help take care of this craving ...”

He scoops you into his arms effortlessly, cradling your heavy weight against his chest to carry you to the bedroom. You twine your arms shamelessly around his neck, luxuriating in the hard strength of his body against yours.

“Aren’t you worried about ... squashing the baby?”

“Not at all,” he deposits you carefully on the bed. Those bright grey eyes darken with blazing lust. “I’m going to take such good care of you and our little one.”

His hands and mouth seem to be everywhere at once — caressing, nibbling, and stroking every sensitive inch he can lavish adoring attention on. You keen softly when he dips his tongue into your navel, rubbing reverent circles over the tight swell of your belly.

“You’re so gorgeous like this,” Max murmurs, lips brushing the crease where your torso and bump meet. “So ripe and round and radiant with our child. My beautiful, strong girl ...”

All you can do is lie there gasping, overwhelmed in the best possible way. He strips you methodically, leaving a trail of scorching, openmouthed kisses over every newly exposed inch.

“My sexy little pregnant wife,” he husks, tongue dragging up the slick crease at the apex of your thighs. “Can’t resist this craving can you, liefje?”

His fingers plunge inside you, curling expertly as his mouth closes over your throbbing bud. You throw your head back shamelessly, mindless with pleasure as Max devours you.

So good, so unbearably good …

He ravishes you thoroughly, sending gushing waves of release crashing through your body over and over again until you’re gasping and quivering. Atoms of blissful satisfaction hum in your bloodstream as you float back into sweet oblivion.

An insistent nudge against your belly slowly rouses you. Max looms over you, hair deliciously rumpled and eyes glittering wickedly. “Did I satisfy that craving sufficiently? Or should I keep going?”

Your mouth curves in a greedy smile, hands gliding over his flexing shoulders and chest. “Again, please ...”

It had long since become a running gag around the paddock and team — before you were advised to stop flying. When you couldn’t be located, someone would joke that you must be off ravaging your utterly besotten husband yet again.

Max took the ribbing with surprising grace, grinning unrepentantly whenever his shirt collar revealed another blossom of lovebites discoloring the skin of his throat.

You really didn’t care about the teasing. You’re indulging an entirely healthy and normal craving — just a wife thoroughly appreciating her man.

“Can you believe people used to call this a punishment?” You giggle breathlessly one afternoon.

Max nips a stinging path along the soft skin of your inner thighs, tracing tantalizingly close to your heated center. He laves his tongue soothingly over the reddened marks, leering up at you from between your parted legs.

“Let them call it whatever they want. I’m just taking advantage of your hormones making you insatiable for me.”

“Mmm, well I can’t seem to resist your obscenely perfect body either,” you admit with a lazy stretch. “Maybe we really are being punished.”

One dark brow wings up eloquently as Max drags his eyes over you in a deliberately insolent perusal. Taking your leg in hand, he licks an achingly slow, filthy stripe up the crease where thigh meets hip.

You choke on a whimper, whole body jolting as he sucks a blossom of wet kisses into the satiny expanse of your inner thigh. Those bright grey eyes hold yours in wicked challenge as his clever tongue massages and swirls over your sensitized flesh.

“This certainly doesn’t seem like punishment to me,” he husks darkly. “Does it feel like punishment when I do this ...” His mouth moves higher. “Or this ...”

By the time he finishes torturing you into a quivering, needy wreck, you’re more than ready to beg.

“Please, Max!” You sob, bucking helplessly against the maddening sensations. “I need you, oh god I need you so bad ...”

He settles heavily over you, nuzzling your hair aside to trail searing kisses along your damp throat. “Then you shall have me. My needy wife can have whatever she craves ...”

It’s midway through one such shattering round of lovemaking that Max’s phone begins to ring shrilly. You try to disentangle, burning embarrassment tinting your cheeks, but he simply growls and clutches you tighter.

“Leave it!” He bites out, surging forward to recapture your mouth in a bruising clash of teeth and tongue between thrusts. “I’m busy ... satisfying … my wife ...”

After, as you lie tangled in a sweaty heap of satiation, you can’t resist asking with a wry smile, “Was that another craving I just demanded you satisfy?”

Max props himself up on one elbow, thumb stroking idly along your abdomen as his piercing gaze roams over your flushed, disheveled form.

“Whatever my wife needs,” he responds huskily. Those burning eyes promise infinite carnal delights to come as they caress your body. “I’ll always crave giving her everything she desires.”

He stretches beside you, a blissful smile curving his lips as you snuggle up against his side to exchange lazy kisses.

You’ve got a sneaking suspicion this is one craving that might outlast the pregnancy ...

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luvelve · 11 months ago

Text

˚ · . sweet blue - k. mingyu

summary: your husband’s not very good at asking for things, not even for a shave. but of course, he gets it either way.

pairing: husband!mingyu x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warnings/tags: kissing, shaving, mentions of use of a blade

a/n: i took a long and unexpected break from writing and i’m happy to be back <3 this has been sitting in my drafts for sooooo long and i finally finished it today. the ending was kinda rushed but i wanted to publish it either way to kinda get myself out of this slump. as always, feedback & likes/reblogs are always welcome :)

the dark colored marble touches the front of your thighs as you inch closer, which surprises you but you try your best not to flinch because of the task at hand. at this moment, you feel like an artist, a sculptor if you will; carefully carving clay with utmost precision. except you’re not a sculptor, and you’re not carving clay. you’re in your bathroom giving your husband, mingyu, a shave.

this was new for the both of you, as mingyu always just shaved his incredibly slow growing mustache by himself. what started all this is him seeing you in your nightstand or in the bathroom doing your makeup and skincare, and he finds it all so amusing. he swears harps and violins play in the background when you’re in your own little world, dusting your cheeks with blush, taking your mascara off, or applying lip balm? lip… stick? lip…. whatever it is that you put on your lips, he thinks to himself. all he knows is that he can watch you do it all day. but he’s also left wondering, how it would feel to do what you do on him.

for some reason, mingyu isn’t able to muster up the courage to ask you straightforward to do his skincare, but he is able to ask you to be the one to shave him since he tells you its that time of the month where his mustache gotten too long for his liking. he comes up with the excuse of not doing the job well enough, and that his face gets all ‘itchy’ afterwards. which is all a lie of course, but it’s enough to convince you to do what he asks of you.

and so you find yourself in your shared bathroom at nine in the morning, standing in between your husband’s legs as he sits on the counter, both of your faces inches from each other. the room is silent but not eery, it’s a comfortable silence. mingyu had joyfully shown you the things he uses for his shaving routine: a cheap razor, shaving cream, some aftershave seokmin had recommended to him, and a towel.

“you really should get one of those good quality razors. not these disposable ones.” you scold mingyu softly, looking at him sternly with one hand resting on his head and the other holding the razor.

“but they’re expensive.” he extends the last syllable in protest, his reply a bit garbled as he tries his best not to move his mouth too much. you know mingyu well enough that he would be pouting at this moment, if only you weren’t shaving his upper lip.

you’re too focused on the task at hand that you don’t bother arguing with the giant sulky man in front of you. you continue making slow downward strokes using the razor, watching the hair slowly disappear. mingyu doesn’t have a lot of hair on his face like other guys but you take your time, making sure to get the job done right. it is, after all, your first time.

your husband watches as your lips contort out of focus; a habit of yours that he’s taken notice and grown fond of over the years. every now and then , you get rid of the hair and cream, swishing the razor in the sink that’s filled about halfway in water. mingyu feels nothing else but happiness and content in this very moment that he’s internally doing jumping jacks.

your resting hand shifts from his head and onto his cheek to get better leverage and mingyu just has to lean in to your touch. he relishes the feeling of your warm hand and then looks at you with adoration in his eyes.

“baby…” you raise your eyebrows at him, wondering what on earth he’s doing this for in the middle of a shave. mingyu doesn’t react to your words but instead shoots you a small derpy smile, and only you would know what he means.

if there’s one thing your husband is good at, it’s getting you to give him your love and attention without even saying anything. there are nights when mingyu comes home exhausted and all he has to do is stand there in your doorway, signalling to you that he wants to be in your embrace. or when you get up earlier than him and you find him just as he’s about to wake up; he’s buried in the sheets, hair all messy, just laying there, silently telling you that he wants a taste of your lips before his morning coffee.

and it’s the same thing he’s doing now. you let out a small sigh as you tilt your head a bit in fake annoyance before you lean in to connect your lips with his. it’s quick but it’s enough that mingyu lets out a hum of contentment. you pull back and he giggles as your lips catches some of the shaving cream, giving yourself a tiny little mustache.

“happy?” you quickly reply, and mingyu catches you to plant another kiss on your lips, placing his hand on your cheek to deepen the kiss a bit.

“very.” he says, as he swipes the pad of his thumb on your upper lip to get rid of the shaving cream he transferred onto you. his giggles bounce off the quiet walls of your bathroom.

“now can you sit still so i can finish this little bit that’s left?” you say to him, and he replies with a small nod and a sheepish smile, one that’s big enough that his canines show through. mingyu feels like a sixth grader who just kissed his crush. if the marble counter wasn’t in the way, he’d be kicking his feet.

you finish the small patch of hair that he has left and you proceed to put aftershave on him, assuming it is what you put after one shaves. you put a little bit on your hands and you’re thrown off by its strong musky scent. surely this can’t be good for his skin, you think to yourself.

“babe, you really use this stuff? i think this is way too strong for you.” you say with a worried look on your face. “well… seokmin told me it was good so i just used it too.” he replies.

“well yeah, it could be working for him but for you… i’m not too sure. i don’t know… i’m just worried.” you trail off, getting some tissue to rid your hands of the product and his eyes follow you around the bathroom while you do so. you shuffle back to stand in between mingyu’s legs, “i’ll go get something from my stuff instead.”

he watches as you momentarily leave the room to grab something from your vanity. he waits in the bathroom like a five year old waiting for his mom at the grocery counter. he hears the sound of your drawer open and close and it makes him chew at his lower lip in excitement.

“okay, this should do the job.” you say as you take the product onto your hands and pat it gently on your husband’s annoyingly smooth face. you make sure to cover all the parts that the blade has touched, and your head tilts left and right trying to make sure you didn’t miss any spot.

the way his eyes light up and follow your every move don’t go unnoticed by you. his hands make their way to rest on your hips again, squeezing every so gently as not to distract you.

“aaand, that’s the last bit of it.” you say, tightening the cap of your moisturizer and setting it down on the counter. mingyu internally pouts because the task is done, nonetheless he still props himself off the counter to take a look in the mirror.

“thank you, baby.” he says softly, shooting you a sweet smile as he turns to face you again. his arms snake around your waist to pull you in for a kiss and just when your noses touch, you pause. “you know… we still have a bit of time before we have to head out. why don’t we go back to bed for a little while?”

mingyu instantly picks up on what you’re trying to say and of course he jumps on the opportunity, “yeah?” he questions, and you nod as you wrap your arms around his neck. “well you know i can’t say not to that.” his smile reaching from one ear to the other. he leans down to attach his lips to yours as the both of you slowly walk backwards into your bedroom.

“oh, one more thing.” you mumble, momentarily breaking away from the kiss. “mhmm..” mingyu hums, and you feel it rumble in his chest. “i know you don’t get ‘itchy’ after you shave, it was just an excuse to get me to do it for you.” your tone is playful, and right then and there mingyu knows you’ve got him.

“what-huh? n-yes, i do!” your husband stutters, his ears turning red in embarrassment. “sweetheart, you really expect me to believe that? i know you like the back of my hand.” you reply. before mingyu is able to say anything else, you grab his arm and lead him out of your bedroom. “now let’s go, you owe me a yummy breakfast.”

#mingyu fluff #kim mingyu #seventeen x y/n #seventeen fluff #seventeen #mingyu x y/n #mingyu scenarios #seventeen scenarios #mingyu au #seventeen au #mingyu x reader #luvelve’s

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dropsnectar · 4 months ago

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Witches Brew

Slime monster x afab!witch

Happy October! Here's some spooky smut for the spooky season!

It was October and Halloween was just around the corner! So! Of course you were bubbling up some witches brew for one of your most busy seasons of the year.

You stood in your studio apartment, walls covered in wooden shelves. Atop of those shelves were bottles full of your favorite things: dry herbs, powder mixes, and other potion and spellcasting tools you would need for your work. In the middle of the room stood a big cast iron cauldron. You had arranged some cement blocks to hold an electric fire starter underneath it, as you didn't have a fireplace. It was hard being a witch in the city, but you made do. This was where all the clientele was, after all.

You were standing over the boiling cauldron, an old grimiore in one hand, and mixing the golden liquid with another. The grimoire was your great grandmother something you had recently inherited. You were practically shaking with excitement! Your great grandmother had been an excellent witch, known far and wide for her potions. You had flipped through her book and found it, a recipe for her “Extremely Special Witches Brew”, the first two words being underlined. Witches brew was the basis of so much potion work. If it was extremely special then that must mean it was incredibly potent!

You had been brewing for about six hours now. The recipe started out incredibly normal, but had specified that you stare it down for the next hour, adding a lock of your own hair and some mermaid scales. This had been the most difficult bit, as mermaid scales had a habit of boiling over the pot unless babied with compliments and sweet words. Unusual for witches brew, but you trusted your grandmother.

You had finally finished your hour of staring, marveling and cooing, turning off the fire starter. The next step was to let it cool. When it was finished, the grimoire specified, the mixture would condense and turn a lovely green color.

You waited another hour and checked on the brew. Strange. There had been no change in consistency, and the color remained as gold as the sun on a winter's day. You waited another hour. Nothing.

You cursed. Were had you gone wrong? This recipe had been incredibly expensive, and you'd made ALOT of it, expecting to use it for the rest of the year. Upset, you went to bed early, muttering yourself to sleep.

It was around midnight when something started to stir in the cauldron. Any waking ear would have heard the sputtering and gurgling as the magic started to awaken. Slowly, a small green tendril dripped its way onto the floor, continuously flowing until the full glob, the size of a small person made its way to the floor. Slowly, it rolled across the carpet and stopped at the bed. It watched you sleep for a moment before pulling itself up into the foot of the bed, under your covers.

You woke up feeling something crawl up your thighs. When you opened your eyes you glanced up, not seeing anything. But their was a pressure on you, something cool and wet, like a weighted blanket was curling itself up towards your core.

You tore your blanket off of you and saw it, a dark building sludge, glowing beautifully under the moonlight streaming from your window.

You were so shocked, you didn't react. That was, until it had decided to pull itself under your panties and push itself between your lips. You gasped out as it completely covered you, gliding back and forth against your entrance and up towards your clit. It was pushing and closing all around you, the wetness feeling so good against your skin.

Despite the fact that your stomach was in knots you tried to push the glob off of you. Your hands made contact, but pushed right through, into the creature. You tried to pull your arms out, but the thing tightened around them. You tried to leverage your weight, pulling back as hard as you could, but only managed to pull the thing with you as you rocked back.

The thing was heavy, pushing down your tummy and making its way up your chest. It did not stop sliding up and down your vulva, your breath hitching as it seemed to catch at your entrance. There was an experimental push there and you squirmed, your heart in your throat.

Suddenly, the area felt even more slippery then it did before. The creature started to glow, a soft grass green, as all across your skin, the thing seemed to seep some sort of liquid. You could feel it drip down the crevices of your groin, down the slopes of your chest as you noticed the thing start to disintegrate your nightgown.

You wriggled as much as you could, trying to push back arousal as you shimmied to the edge of the bed. But the creature had a grip on you and the more you moved the faster it started to glide and explore the planes of your now exposed skin. It was fully enveloping you.

You gasped as it pushed into your entrance, a slippery tendril slowly making its way up and around your walls, leaving behind a sticky liquid as it moved. Your body was slowly starting to tingle. Your breathe was becoming even more ragged and the cool and slick textured of the sludge started to feel even more pleasant then it had before.

Your mind was getting fuzzy. The feeling of the thing on your skin, paired with the weight, while previously scary, was really stoking the fire in your core. Hadn't you been so desperate lately for a feeling like this? To feel the weight of a lover as you mewled out from under them?

Your vision started to get fuzzy too. Fuzzy. You felt fuzzy all over. The need in you continued to grow as all you could concentrate on was the sudden movements on every part of your body. Hot. You felt hot..

Your waist, the curves of your breast, your inner thighs, your nipples, they were being caressed, grabbed, groped. All of this continued as a sharp sucking started to occur on your clit. You cried out, not caring if the neighbors could hear you as it sucked wave after wave of pleasure from your skin.

More tendrils had made their way into your hot wet cunt. The girth of it made you buck your hips, straining beautifully under the the green glowing creature. You liked how it pushed you back down, experimenting with where to shift its weight as you keened out.

Green.

The witches brew. The Extremely Special witches brew.

Fuck.

You weren't able to think further as a large girthy tendril suddenly shot itself into you, thrusting into you with force. There was a needle like sucking of your nipples as the thing glided circles over every surface of your body. It was so much sensation you could barely think. The thrusting quickening its pace, pushing harder and faster into you until you broke, your orgasm rocking through you like an earthquake.

But it didn't stop thrusting. And you didn't stop wanting it to fuck you, jerking your wobbly pelvis into the tendrils with futility. You giggled as the slime started to massage more fluid onto your vulva and cunt. Cum and aphrodisiac trickled out of you as the thing bullied that spongy spot that made you see stars.

You had started to drool, which attracted the attention of the glob near your chest. A slimy tendril made its way to the drool streaming down your neck and chest, sucking. It seemed to be devouring the liquid as it made its way into your mouth, sucking your skin and tongue. You moaned around it, an herby taste oozing. You recognized some of the notes as ingredients in your brew.

A silent chuckle vibrated through your chest. Mermaid scales. Worth every buck.

You came again. And again. And again. The slime fucked you over so much that you couldn't quite understand where it started and you began. You were so needy and so desperate for the next orgasm that you didn't notice the sunlight streaming down onto your conjoined bodies.

Some tendrils had made its way to your face, pushing back hair and sucking lazily on the sweat streaming down your forehead. Then, the coil within you snapped one more time, washing over you like a gentle wave on the beach. And the thrusting stopped. The sucking stopped.

The tendrils within you started to recede and form back into the main glob of the creature. It started to absorb all the slick of your body, leaving a lone bouncy weight on your skin.

The two of you laid like that for a while as you caught your final breath, barely able to stay conscious. The thing started to prod circles into your sore aching muscles. You heard a keening sound. That surprised you a little. But that keen had been filled with so much affection, your heart couldn't help but be affected.

As you lost consciousness, one thought stayed in your mind.

Best fucking spell ever.

#aphrodisiac #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x reader #terat0philliac #teratophillia #monster #terato #tentacle smut #tentacles #slime #slime smut #fantasy smut #witch smut

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literarydumpinggrounds · 4 months ago

Text

Minors DNI 🔞 come get ya juiceeee!

tw: sorta dubcon, heavy degradation, msub, domme!reader heavy dialogue

“That’s right..” you ground your hips down onto his face, ignoring the way your pussy muffled his pathetic noises as you used his hair for leverage in your fists. “Fucking drown in it, bitch boy.”

You can’t help the sadistic laughter that bubbles out at the way he gasps and sputters beneath you. Pliant. Very nearly broken into submission, but those teary eyes are swimming with desire despite his whining protests. No.. Of course a man like him would never like being treated like this. Except for the fact that he would, and he does like it when you treated him like this.

He liked it a lot.

The way your eyebrows would dip in fake pity when you mocked him. The way your voice dropped and oozed with intention. That salacious little look in your eyes as you’d pout, just to wipe the sympathetic act from your expression effortlessly; confident grin playing at the edges of your lips.

He was so attracted to you that it made him ache in places he didn’t know could ache.

You gave him a space that he’d never experienced before.. somewhere that he was safe to let someone else carry the weight for a while. A sanctuary that had been built on trust.. and sex. Like a fuck ton of sex.

“You love being such a depraved little mouth for me, don’t you?”

A strangled breath puffed through his clenched teeth as you gripped his jaw, running the flat of your tongue over the side of his face. Slow and deliberate.. Licking from his chin to his cheekbone tasting yourself in the messy layer of your slick glistening on his face. “So happy to make a pretty little mess of yourself..”

Your tongue lapped over his parted lips, eyes locked with his in an intense exchange. Primal. Wanting. “Such a lewd expression.. all for me, right?”

“You’re all mine? Every last inch, down to the last freckle..”

He was nodding. Without his own permission, he was eagerly nodding in agreement, even as you sank down on him; as you scalded his cock with how hot you were inside. He would do anything. Say anything. Be anything, if it meant you would keep fucking yourself on his cock like that.

“I-I’m yours! Please, baby— w-wait!“

His cries of pleasure brought you to a halt, speechlessly observing as his hips bucked up haphazardly, manly thighs spasming beneath you. That delicious expression smearing across his features was always so hot. The way you could find traces of the pleasure igniting every nerve ending in the deep moans shamelessly escaping him.

He just came without permission while buried deep inside of you.. and the panicked expression taking over sends a thrill through you, making you smile.

“You’re gonna fucking regret that.”

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mapis-putellas · 4 months ago

Text

Princess treatment

Pairing: Leah Williamson x reader

Words: 1645

Warnings: none

Summary: based on this request

Notes: this didn’t write as well as I wanted it to, so I apologise

[prompt list]

"You have two perfectly working legs, you know?"

Leah groans from her place on your back, her head bouncing softly against your shoulder as you carry her through the tunnel towards the changing room. She'd just played a full ninety minute match and due to the numerous tackles sent her way by the opposing team, her legs ached and everything just hurt.

The second you'd gotten close enough, she'd hugged you briefly before rounding your body and jumping on your back, your taller frame catching her with relative ease. Sometimes she helps hold herself up, but today she was fully limp in your arms and incredibly grateful you were strong enough to do so for her.

"I know, but you love me and my legs hurt." She whines as you push the changing room door open with your foot, ignoring the playful teasing sent your way as you carry Leah inside before sending her down beside her cubby.

She sighs audibly as she wraps her arms around your midriff and rests her chin against your chest, your hand cupping the back of her head and tugging playfully on her ponytail. "And you think mine don't?" You raise an eyebrow.

Leah simply glares, and you laugh softly as you place a kiss to her sweaty forehead before gently pushing her towards the showers. "Go shower. You stink."

Leah's jaw drops in mock offence as she places her hands on her hips. "And you think you don't?” She mocks you. “The audacity, man."

"I never said I didn't.” you shrug your shoulders, picking up your towel and playfully flicking it at her as you pass.

"Hey! Watch it!"

Twenty minutes later, you exit the shower fully clothed with your hair tied back into a loose braid. You're immediately greeted with the sight of Leah. She too was showered, clad in grey sweats and a matching hoodie with her damp blonde hair tied back into a messy ponytail. On her lap were her shoes and socks, her lips quirking up into a guilty smile when she catches your knowing gaze.

By now, the changing room was completely empty, and you sigh gratefully at the fact because you knew your next actions would have you both teased relentlessly. With a kiss to her forehead, you crouch down in front of her.

"Thank you, baby." She mumbles as you take the balled up socks before undoing them and slipping one onto each of her feet, her shoes following which you make sure to tie as tightly as she likes.

Obviously, Leah was more than capable of putting her own socks and shoes on, but back when she'd done her acl, that obviously hadn't been the case. She was unable to put her own pants on let alone bend to tie her shoes, so of course you'd taken over despite her many, many protests of being able to do it herself.

You'd once watched her try and stubbornly do so for over twenty minutes, and that had not been a fun experience for either of you.

It was something that had continued even as she got better, and had eventually shifted over to training too. (Though she did thankfully tie her own boots.)

"There we go, all done." You use her knees as leverage to return upright before holding out her hands. Leah was quick to take them, a content smile on her face as she leans up on her tiptoes and presses a kiss to your cheek.

"Thanks my love."

"You're welcome, Lee. Are you ready to go?" You hoist your kitbag onto your shoulder, brushing a loose strand of hair that had fallen out of your braid behind your ear.

Leah grins mischievously, and you raise an eyebrow as you watch her gather up her things before stepping up onto the bench and holding out her arms.

You give her a look that says, are you fucking kidding me, but all Leah does is bounce impatiently on her toes as she wiggles her fingers. You open up your mouth to say no, absolutely not, but your resolve gets thrown out of the window the second she pouts.

"Baby, please?" She murmurs, and you groan internally as you drop your bag and make your way over to her. The pout was immediately wiped from her lips as she grips your shoulders and turns you around, wrapping her arms around your shoulders and wrapping her legs around your waist.

"I love you." She kisses the side of your head, arms draped across your chest.

"Yeah yeah, I love you too." You grip her thighs and bounce her up slightly before once again picking up your bag, making your way out of the changing room.

She scoffs lightly as she lightly kicks your thighs, the pout audible in her voice as she speaks. "Alright, don't sound so thrilled about it."

You laugh softly, "Lee, of course I love you. I wouldn't carry you literally everywhere I go if I didn't."

"Hey! You don't carry me everywhere!"

"I don't? What about last week when we were at the shop? You didn't want to walk so I carried you the whole way round. Oh! Also the other day when went on that walk that you wanted us to go on and you literally lasted ten minutes before I had to pick you up. I also carry you to and from training practically every single day, with the exception of your fr-"

"Okay! Okay! I get it. You carry me a lot is it really that big a deal?"

"Oh no," you make it to the car, setting her down onto her feet before grabbing the keys and unlocking it. "I don't mind. It was you who got all defensive." You pull open the passenger side door and gesture for her to climb in.

"I did not get defensive!" She practically stomps her foot as she crosses her arms against her chest.

You purse your lips to stop your laugher as you nod your head. "Okay, you didn't. In the car please. I want to go home."

"But-"

"Baby, car."

"Defensive she says. How dare you?" she complies this time, slipping into the passenger seat whilst simultaneously continuing to grumble under her breath. You roll your eyes as you close the door and place your kitbags into the trunk before rounding the car to the drivers side, slipping inside and closing the door before buckling up your seatbelt.

When you see she hadn't done the same, you reach over and do it for her, lips quirking up into a smirk when you see her smile subtly at the action.

"Such a princess." You tease, giving her a gentle nudge before starting the engine.

Leah immediately gapes at you as she reaches over and slaps your thigh. "You take that back right now! I am not a princess!"

You laugh as you rub away the stinging sensation the slap had left behind, your free hand on the steering wheel manoeuvring the car out of the carpark.

"So you want me to lie?" You glance her way.

"Baby!" She whines as she drops her head back against the headrest of her seat, and you laugh softly as you reach out and place your hand on her thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

"I'm just teasing, Lee. I'm sorry." You genuinely apologise despite knowing you'd only told her the truth. If your words had genuinely upset her, you wouldn't let them slip from your lips again.

Leah's pout slowly drops from her lips, and she hums in satisfaction as she tangles her fingers with your own. As you drive, you absentmindedly graze the pad of yours thumb over the back of her hand, the soft skin warming slightly beneath your touch.

The journey home was silent with the exception of the radio, so it was no surprise that you find Leah fast asleep against the window of the car as you pull into your driveway. Deciding your kits would be fine in the trunk until tomorrow, you exit the car almost silently before making your way round to the passenger side.

You open the door partially at first, slipping your hand through the gap to keep her from falling.

"Lee? We're home baby." You murmur as you pull the door open fully, reaching over her sleeping body to unbuckle her seatbelt. You gently trail the backs of your fingers against her cheek, hoping it would rouse her so she could make her own way inside.

But to absolutely no one's surprise, she remains asleep.

With a knowing smile, you lean into the car and pull her upper body flush against your own. Holding her there with your least dominant arm, you use the other to haul her out of the car and into your arms, her legs hanging loosely around your waist.

"Jesus." You grumble as you nearly topple backwards, bracing yourself against the car.

"Easy." You hear mumbled against your shoulder, and you automatically freeze with a quiet sigh.

"Of course you're not actually asleep.” You groan as you let go of her waist, her legs hooking tightly around your waist in response.

"I was until you practically manhandled me out of the car." She shoots back defensively.

You can't help but scoff as you slap her butt before wrapping your arms back around her waist, figuring if she was going to get down, she would have done so already. "Well excuse me for trying to be a good girlfriend."

"Sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm grouchy." She whispers as you single handedly pull out the house keys and shove them into the lock, twisting them to the right before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

"It's okay, baby," you assure as you place your keys on the small ceramic plate. "Dinner and then bed, okay?"

"Okay."

Tags:

@simp4panos @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @goldenempyrean @liloandstitchstan

#leah williamson x reader #soft leah willimason #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #leah williamson #woso community #woso appreciation #woso imagine #woso fanfics #@lots of pockets > @mapis putellas

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megalony · 4 months ago

Text

Keep You From Harm

Okay, so this is a new Evan Buckley imagine based on a random idea I had. I hope you will all like it, I had so much fun with this one.

Please let me know what you think, I'm so excited about this one.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Summary: When a situation rises at the station, Evan takes control and finds himself forming a bond with someone he promises to protect. And he'll do all he can to help her.

Enjoy.

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The feeling of her bare feet against the path should have sparked pain through her body, but she couldn't feel anything anymore.

The soles of her feet weren't burning in agony even though the skin was rubbing raw with the beginning of blisters wearing away at the worn skin. Her cracked heels were coated with dirt, flecks of gravel and broken skin, but she couldn't feel any of it.

Her feet barely touched the floor like a bird scraping through the sky and the faster she ran, the more lightweight she began to feel.

Running always used to make her sluggish, tired, heavy. Not anymore. Not today. Running made her feel open. The more steps she took, the faster she moved, the more she felt like she was about to take flight and start running on air.

She couldn't breathe properly anymore, too much running, too much energy burning and cells breaking down to supply the air she wasn't breathing in. But it didn't slow her down. If anything, (Y/n) seemed to run faster and she knew the moment she stopped, she was going to collapse.

The burning that had previously lit up her sternum and spread throughout her diaphragm had disappeared when the adrenaline started to take over.

Her hands balled up into fists at her sides and her arms cut through the air, propelling her to run faster in any direction she could.

People stopped to stare, of course they did, but no one reached out for her. She was running too fast for anyone to think about stopping her, let alone try and reach out and find out why she was in such a hurry. Or find out what she was running from. She was within their sights and then she was gone, pelting round the corner, skidding on the pavement, lurching forward and regaining her balance before she fell.

She couldn't stop, not for anything. If something slowed her down, that would be it.

She had to get somewhere safe. A public restroom, they had locks on the doors and a room like that where there were no corners for people to hide behind and only one way in or out would be safe. She could hide there. She could be safe there.

But (Y/n) couldn't see a restaurant or a cafe or any shop nearby that looked like they might have a public restroom she could use, and public toilets near parks weren't safe, everyone knew that.

Tears glossed over her eyes and whipped across her face in the breeze as she rounded another corner. Her left hand reached out for the building at her side, using it as leverage to prop herself up so she didn't fall to the floor and stop her momentum. The bricks scraped against her palm, taking the first layer of skin off and creating streaks across her palm, but she couldn't find the will to care.

There were no shops on this street. No place she could go, no houses- she couldn't go to a house. Not if she didn't know who lived inside. She could be welcomed in and never let out again.

Red.

That one colour stood out on the street like a beacon, it was all she could see. Red shutters. Dark bricks and grey windows and large open bay doors big enough to let a tank in or out.

A fire tower at the back of the building. A shield sign placed dead centre above the doors.

It was a fire station.

That was one of the safest places she could be, aside from a police station.

It felt like a beacon, guiding (Y/n) in like constellations in the dark night sky telling her where she was in the world and which way she needed to go. Her feet pounded against the pavement creating loud echoes in her wake and her chapped lips parted, letting out horrid gasping breaths as she tried to keep her momentum going just a little further.

She could feel herself slowing down once those shutters were within her sights and she allowed herself to propel round the corner, taking a sharp left into the building. She didn't know where she was going, what she was doing or what she was going to do once she stopped running.

All she knew was that in here, she would be safe. She had to be.

Once the siren finished its loud screech and the dispatch call finished over the radio, Evan allowed himself to down the scolding hot coffee in his signature mug. He poured the last drops down his throat, hoping this would fuel him enough and make him last until tea time. He'd had one round of toast for breakfast and no dinner, suffice to say he was barely going to last on his fifth cup of coffee today, but it would have to do.

He had gotten used to the red lights constantly whirring from the roof of the station, telling the A team to get ready and load up, they had a call.

He dunked his cup in the sink and heaved his wary body towards the stairs. He had no desire to slide down the pole and have an accident, and he wasn't rushing. The truck would wait for him to get there, they didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Evan dragged his hand through his curls, brushing them out of his face as he stomped down the stairs, each step landing with a thud and causing shockwaves to rattle up through his body. He was on his last reserves already, he wasn't likely to make it through the next call.

He looked around the station once he reached the ground floor. The rest of the team were already in motion. Bobby was about to climb into the driver's seat of the truck. Chimney was getting into the back and Eddie was grabbing his helmet and jacket from his locker. When the ambulance roared to life, Evan figured Hen was driving. It had to be a big call if they were taking the ambulance too.

He was glad he wasn't driving the ambulance, it annoyed him. The clutch was loose and the brakes were too sharp, he was used to the pedals in the truck.

Dithering to the right, Evan found his helmet and jacket and slung the jacket over his shoulder.

"Buck, let's go."

"I'm coming," He hollered over his shoulder, tucking his helmet beneath his arm, pinning it against his hip. But when he spun on his heels, he wasn't sure why, but his gaze darted down to the floor.

His head tilted slowly to one side like his neck had broken and his brows furrowed as his lips parted.

"What the…" His voice was no louder than a whisper on the wind as he spoke to himself, unsure if he was seeing this right.

Those blue eyes narrowed intently until it felt like he had tunnel vision and the end of his rounded nose scrunched up. But when Evan bent his knees and stooped over, a chill ran down his spine and sent his blood curdling like milk in his veins.

His lips parted, jaw dropping down as words and phrases clogged the back of his throat, but he didn't manage to get one word out before the rumbling of the ambulance engine made him jump back up straight. The helmet beneath his arm clattered to the floor and the jacket on his shoulder slid casually down his back until it pooled behind his heels.

Evan sprung into action, his thick boots clobbering against the floor as he pelted towards the driver's side of the ambulance just as Hen pushed it into gear and the wheels made one full turn.

A high-pitch alarm cut through the air when Evan jumped up onto the side step and yanked the driver's door open. He was lucky Hen was still in first gear and barely moved an inch or else the door would have locked automatically and he wouldn't be able to do this. He swung the door back, leaning out the way before he reached in to be level with Hen who slammed on the brakes and pushed back in her seat. The alarm in her eyes looked as if she thought Evan was about to try and kiss her or pull her from the ambulance.

"Buck! What-"

"Code red. Brake on and get out slowly." The affirmation in Evan's voice was unnerving and Hen couldn't find the will to move.

She stayed put while Evan leaned across her, yanked on the hand-brake and turned off the ignition. He flung the keys across to the passenger seat, just in case Hen thought about trying to turn it on and drive off. He couldn't have her doing that. They had a situation and he needed this ambulance to stay stationary, right where it was.

Hen didn't know what that meant. Code red could mean anything. It could be someone in the station was injured. It could imply someone was trying to hold a hostage situation. It could mean a bomb. There were multiple implications and the only thing a code red actually meant right now was that something bad was either happening or about to happen.

But Hen did as she was asked. She took off her belt and carefully climbed out of the truck when Evan stepped down.

"Guys, what're you doing?" Eddie leaned his head out the window of the truck and whipped the headset off his ears. They had a call, they had to go. Why had Hen and Evan stopped the ambulance? Why were they walking away like they were going to go on a break and leave the rest of them to it?

Hen dithered in between the ambulance and the truck that was halfway out the station where Bobby had sharply braked when he realised the rest of the team weren't coming along. She waved her hand towards the truck, implying for them to come over to her and Evan who was already walking away from her.

Evan kept his steps light and he held his breath when he walked round to the back of the ambulance where he had been less than a minute ago. When he looked over at Hen, he held his hand out to silently ask her to stop where she was. If this was what he thought it was, he didn't want a scene unfolding.

Hen's jaw dropped and she looked behind her for the team who were running over when they all watched Evan crouch down and suddenly lay on his stomach.

He laid flat out on the recently mopped floor, stretched out like a crocodile about to crawl back into the swamp. His chin lifted from the floor and his palms pressed down so he could shuffle closer and lean his head beneath the ambulance.

He wasn't quite sure what to do when a pair of rabid, petrified eyes locked with his.

He knew it.

Evan knew he had seen someone under the ambulance. He had to get Hen to stop, he had no idea who was hiding beneath their ambulance and if Hen swerved to one side, she could potentially run the person over.

"Hi there," His tone was gentle and his words were so quiet Evan could barely hear himself, but he didn't dare speak any louder. He didn't want to frighten or overwhelm her.

She huddled up tighter like a rabbit curling into a ball and when she inched back another foot, she was under the centre of the ambulance. Making herself less of a target and very hard to reach, especially for Evan with his large stature and big build.

He gulped down another breath and tried his best to put on a calm expression. A lot of the nurses at the hospital always told him he had a calming look about him and a comforting manner, he hoped that was the truth right now so he could help whoever was hidden under here.

His eyes took her in, from what he could see with the shadows cast beneath the ambulance. Her arms were huddled up to her chest with her hands pinned beneath her chin like she was keeping them safe. Her legs seemed to be curled up towards her torso and her head was aimed down, but Evan could see her eyes were fixated upon him, too afraid to look away.

She had blood on her. Evan could see streaks of blood beginning to dribble down her face, she had to have some sort of cut on her scalp in her hair. Her lips were chapped and bloodied too like she had bitten them to shreds. The whole of her frame was lightly trembling back and forth and he could hear her trying to take deep breaths which came out as wheezes.

"I think you know this is a fire station… and you know we protect people, is that why you're hiding here?"

He waited for any sign that she understood him and Evan was struck with a sudden thought that maybe she didn't speak English. But when she nodded, he breathed in relief and smiled.

"I'm a fireman, see?" He lifted his chest a little and pointed to the logo on his shirt. "If you need protection, we can look after you, and I think you need a medic. Hiding under here might not be the best place to be though, sweetheart, we were about to roll out and you could get hurt under here. Can you come over to me?"

The rapid shake of her head made Evan deflate a little. She couldn't stay under here for long no matter how safe it made her feel. He would have to show her that he would help her and protect her if that's what she needed.

"Can I come to you then?"

When she didn't say anything or shake her head, Evan glanced up at Hen who was crouched down to try and see what the situation was. He mumbled "Stay there," to her and the rest of the team who were waiting to see who was under their ambulance. He didn't want them overwhelming the girl or frightening her.

With a deep breath, Evan pressed his forearms down into the floor and army crawled beneath the truck until only his ankles were visible to the rest of the team. He stopped a few inches from the girl, staying close enough that he could reach out for her but so he wasn't touching her.

"My name's Evan, but everyone here calls me Buck. What's your name, sweetheart?" He folded his arms in front of him and rested his chin on top of his forearm.

He waited patiently and noticed that the longer she stared at him, the more she let herself relax. She stopped hunkering up into a ball and let her legs spread out behind her. She moved her arms so her hands were planted down on the floor instead of cocooned to her chest, and the trembling ceased a little.

"(Y/n)."

"Are you hurt?"

When (Y/n) tilted her head down, Evan leaned a little bit closer so he could try and see in the dim light casting beneath the ambulance. She had a cut in her hairline rather close to her temple, it didn't look deep but head injuries always bled a lot.

Her hand gingerly slithered to touch the right side of her chest and she winced, causing Evan to bite down on his lower lip.

But what caught Evan's attention the most was her hands. He couldn't stop looking at them. Her nails were split and cracked. She had jagged edges to her nails and her fingertips were rubbed raw, like she had been scratching and clawing at something. And there were marks on her wrists too. Evan knew those kind of marks, he had seen them before. She had been bound by something, possibly rope.

She was a victim of some kind of abuse.

"Did someone hurt you, is that why you came here, to get away?"

The words must have been too painful to voice, for (Y/n) only nodded as a shiver passed over her frame. She had come here for sanctuary, to be safe and helped and Evan would make sure that happened.

"Okay sweetheart, I think I need to take a look at those injuries, but I'm a bit too big to be under here. Can you come out into the station with me, please? I promise I will keep you safe, no one will come near you if you don't want them to… I won't let anyone else hurt you."

When his eyes darted down to the marks on her wrists, he watched (Y/n) glance at them before her eyes were overwhelmed with tears.

Her head started to nod and Evan's lips softened into a tender smile before he took a look around, making sure he was clear to start crawling back out. He pressed his left hand down on the floor but he reached his right hand out towards (Y/n). He would prove she was safe, he would take her hand and guide her out from under here. He would stay with her and make sure that if anyone came near her when she didn't want them to, they wouldn't get near her.

No one else was going to hurt her, Evan would make sure of that.

Evan was a little surprised when she took his hand, but he was relieved too. He felt her fingers squeeze his hand so tightly the tips of his fingers turned white and he started to lose feeling in them, but he didn't care. He tried to run his thumb over the back of her hand while he started to shuffle backwards.

His eyes remained on (Y/n) as she slowly inched forwards, using her elbow and her knees to shuffle after Evan.

She wasn't sure why she chose to hide under here. She could have curled up in a corner and waited for someone to spot her. She could have screamed or cried or just flopped down on her knees in the middle of the station. Someone would have walked past and seen her, someone would have come over to help her and find out what was wrong.

But when she got into the station, all she wanted to do was hide. What if they had been running after her all this time? What if they had seen her run in here and tried to grab her? What if the people here weren't safe either?

She scuttled onto her knees and crawled under the ambulance with the last bit of energy she had. She curled up, smothered her ragged breaths and waited for the dizziness to pass, but then she couldn't find the will to move. Staying curled up under here felt safer than trying to move and ask anyone for help.

With her fingers tangled tightly with the fireman in front of her, (Y/n) tried to follow his lead and shimmy out from beneath the truck. It felt like they were doing some kind of army course, crawling beneath barbed wire through mud and water to get out on the other side.

She could feel the shaking setting back in her system once she was laid on her stomach, out of the cover from the ambulance.

The light burned her eyes and made her squint, causing her to feel like she had become blind and her head faced down to stop the pain. Both hands latched around the fireman's arm and she clung to him, not willing to move from her knees. She didn't want to move. She wanted to go back and hide. People were looking. She could hear voices. People were getting closer.

"Will you sit in the back of the ambulance with me sweetheart? Then I can see if you're okay, hm?" Evan continued to brush his thumb over the back of her hand and he moved his other hand to hold her arm.

He stayed kneeling in front of her so she didn't have to look around and try to focus on the team hovering by. All of whom were astonished someone had crawled beneath their ambulance and no one had noticed.

They could have run her over.

When (Y/n) nodded her head, Evan slid both hands to her elbows and slowly reeled her up along with him. He nodded when Eddie shifted to open the ambulance doors and Evan slowly walked (Y/n) back until she was sat down on the back step. He had a feeling climbing inside the ambulance might frighten her, it might make her feel penned in and unsafe, but sitting here was okay. She wasn't trapped if she sat here.

"Call dispatch over the radio, get them to send a different team to their callout please." Bobby patted Hen's shoulder and nodded for her to head to the truck. It didn't look like any of them were going anywhere, they had a more pressing matter to deal with here. He knew Hen would reverse the truck back in the station too.

"You two can go take a lunch break." Bobby could see the girl was overwhelmed, having the whole station crowding round wasn't going to help. She looked like she was only going to accept Evan's help at the moment.

Once Eddie and Chimney disappeared, Bobby weaved around Evan and climbed into the back of the truck so he could find some supplies for them. He handed down some cotton, gauze and antiseptic when he noticed Evan inspecting her hands that were grazed.

"You said someone hurt you, did you know them?" Evan spoke quietly as he started to dab the cotton along her palm and clean the speckles of blood.

He watched as she shook her head and he took in the sight of her in the midday light. Her hair was a mess, falling out of a bobble, a few knots in places. Her skin looked dry and grazed and she had a little bit of engine oil on her cheek, which he guessed was from the ambulance.

But seeing her right now, in the daylight, Evan pondered on what she was wearing. A thin vest and an oversized zip up jacket that was hanging off one shoulder and looked like it had seen better days. The jogging bottoms she wore weren't much different. They were dark leaf green with a few holes in places, but they weren't her size. The material was bunched around her ankles and the draw strings- which were frayed and grey instead of white- were done into a double knot to stop them from falling down.

Evan dragged his eyes down her frame, but his stomach pulled in and he could scarcely breathe when he looked down at her feet.

His touch was slow and gentle when he cupped the back of her ankle and gently lifted her foot so he could see the soles of her feet. She wasn't wearing shoes, he hadn't noticed earlier. But now he had, and it looked like she had been running for a long time, she had blisters on her feet.

No shoes. These weren't her clothes. Her nails were split and her hands were cut up and scratched. She was bleeding and if he had to guess what was wrong with her chest, he would say she had broken ribs from the way she held herself.

"Did someone… did someone hold you captive?" The words took Bobby by surprise who hadn't paid as much attention to their victim as Evan seemed to have done.

Those words must have triggered something because the girl coiled her arms to her chest and began to nod her head furiously. She curled up into the side of the ambulance, brought her knees up to her stomach and began to cry.

"I'll call Athena." The grave expression on Bobby's face made Evan wince, they both knew what this meant. And when Bobby whispered "Procedure," in Evan's ear, he nodded.

They had to take (Y/n) to the hospital, whether she would want them to or not. She would have to be assessed and examined and the police would have to come down to the hospital. She would be kept for twenty-four hour observation, even longer if any injuries called for it. The team would have to give statements.

When Bobby climbed down from the ambulance and disappeared towards his office, Evan made himself busy trying to clean up the cut on (Y/n)'s temple.

She stayed surprisingly still and willing as he cleaned the cut and carefully dabbed cotton across the streaks of blood on her face. She didn't even flinch when he pressed a finger beneath her chin to tilt her head up in his direction.

Once he was done, Evan carefully sat down on the step next to her, keeping an air of space between them just to make sure she felt safe. He clasped his hands together between his thighs and hunched his shoulders forward while he tilted his head to the left to look over at her. The shaking seemed to have stopped again but she was still huddled near the door.

"We have to take you to the hospital, so they can make sure that you're okay. Will you let us take you, in the ambulance? You'll be safe, it's our job to keep you from harm."

(Y/n)'s teeth sank down into her already chapped and split lower lip and her head twisted to look across at Evan.

She could see the sincerity in his eyes and his smile was soothing, like a lighthouse in a storm, guiding her in the right direction. She didn't want to go to hospital, but she knew she needed to. She knew now she had escaped, she would have to talk to the police. She didn't know what to do or where she would go from here, she had to talk to them so they could help her.

"Can… can you come with me?" She liked the softness in his eyes and his smile, that smile was drawing her in.

And when he held his hand out towards her, (Y/n) didn't think twice before she took it, tangling their fingers together so she could hold his hand close to her chest.

"I'll stay with you until you tell me to go." There was power behind those words. If she wanted him to go into the hospital with her, then that's what he would do. If she wanted him nearby when she talked to the police, he would stay. If she needed someone to hold her hand through this, Evan's hand would be waiting.

He couldn't imagine the pain and the courage it took to run down here and try to find somewhere safe, all on her own. But she didn't have to be on her own anymore. If Evan could make her feel safe and protect her, then that's what he would do.

***

"Don't leave me!"

Evan bit down on his lip, trying his best to control his expression and keep the sorrow from building up in his eyes when he looked down at (Y/n).

The panic written across her face was enough to make his stomach tense and coil up like he was going to be sick. But it was those watering eyes, filled with fright and pain and uncertainty that made Evan's knees quake. He could feel the desperation in her grip when both her hands clutched at his arm like she feared she would disappear if he walked away.

He darted his eyes between her and Athena who was stood by the door, unsure whether to step forward in case she frightened (Y/n).

"Honey we need to examine you-"

"No!"

(Y/n) almost fell off the bed with the way she clung to Evan's arm. She pressed her nose up against his arm that she clutched tightly to her chest and she started to shake with how tightly she clung to him. If he left the room she would follow him. If he walked away from her (Y/n) would leave the hospital and start running.

He kept her safe. He promised to look after her and (Y/n) didn't want him to leave in case something else happened to her.

Evan knew it wouldn't exactly be proper or 'ethical' for him to stay in the room, but what else could he do? If she felt safe with him around, couldn't he just stay by her side and hold her hand?

Athena was here because procedures needed to be followed and she had to interview (Y/n) as soon as she was medically cleared. She would be enough of a presence to make sure nothing else happened to (Y/n) while she was in the hospital and she would keep her safe. But it wasn't the same. Athena hadn't built up the trust with (Y/n) that Evan had.

When Evan looked over at Athena and bit down on his lip, she nodded and looked at the nurse. "He can stay if it will make her feel better."

Relief coursed through all of them when (Y/n) lessened her grip on Evan's arm, but stayed as close to him as she could. She was sat on the edge of the hospital bed in the emergency room, her legs curled beneath her, her body leaning to the right and Evan stood dutifully by the bed.

"Okay," Athena took two tentative steps forward until she was near (Y/n) but not close enough to touch her. "You told Buck here that you had been held somewhere, by someone. Is that right?"

(Y/n) didn't have the nerve to answer, but she nodded, adverting her gaze down to her lap.

"I'll take a statement later, but for now, the nurses will need to see to your wounds, and take photos, if that's okay."

The thought made (Y/n) shiver and she pressed her temple into Evan's arm as if he could somehow make this situation any better. But he couldn't. He knew the procedure. He knew Athena was asking the nurses to do this because they would need to have proof of her injuries and photos in case they found whoever did this.

When the nurse beckoned (Y/n) over, she coiled her arms around her chest and stood behind the curtain she pulled across so Athena and Evan were on the other side. Privacy wasn't something (Y/n) had been accustomed to for a while.

Evan couldn't help but shiver when he heard Athena mutter "Bag the clothes as evidence." To the nurse and pointo the evidence bags.

He was rather surprised that Bobby had cleared him to have the rest of the shift off. Bobby said it was important to help the patient. They usually stopped at the hospital doors and didn't go any further, but Bobby agreed this was a special case. If (Y/n) felt safe with Evan, he had that duty of care towards her and Bobby was more than happy for Evan to stay and make sure she was okay and hand her over into Athena's care later.

It didn't take too long for (Y/n) to get changed into the hospital gown she was given and she was relieved when they were done taking photographs. It wasn't very dignified to have every mark, bruise, cut and blister documented, but she would do whatever they asked if it got them to leave her alone quicker.

Once she moved back towards the bed, (Y/n) climbed up and brought her knees up to her chest. She coiled her arms around her knees and gingerly inched a bit closer to Evan to be safe in his side.

Her body began to shake and she held her breath when the nurse came over with a tray of gauze, antiseptic and bandages.

"It's okay, no one here's gonna hurt you." Evan held his hand out in front of her and waited, silently, to see if (Y/n) would reach out for him. He smiled softly when she clutched at his hand and she carefully dropped her legs when the nurse motioned to her feet.

She was going to clean the cuts and bandage the blisters on her feet. When the second nurse tried to lean over and look at the cut on her temple, (Y/n) flinched. And when her hand came close, (Y/n) jerked her arm out to bat her away. She didn't want anyone touching her. It was hard enough to stay still and not drag her feet away from the nurse who was sat on a stool in front of her, tending to her injuries.

"Let me do that." There was something tender and soft in Evan's voice that stopped (Y/n) from flinching away from him.

She couldn't look anywhere but into those blue eyes when he gently let go of her hand in favour of picking up a cotton swab that he started to dab at the cut in her hairline on her temple. He was careful not to let his hand touch her, only the soft cotton that he swapped a few times and then used a fresh one to add some cream to the cut. It wouldn't need stitches, just a lot of cleaning and some cream applying to it each day.

(Y/n) let her eyes dart down to her feet once she had bandages rolled from the bottom of her toes up towards her ankles. They wouldn't be on for long. Those were annoying. They would slow her down if she had to make another escape. If she had to start running, those bandages were going to come loose or scratch and rub at her feet. Nothing could slow her down.

"You need some IV fluids, you're very dehydrated." The nurse made a point of showing the needle to (Y/n) first so she didn't shock her or panic her, but (Y/n) shook her head all the same.

She inched back on the bed, scuttling until she was almost falling off the other side.

No needles. She didn't want any needles punctured into her skin, she'd had enough of that. It hurt. They made her drowsy. She had to be alert and ready and on edge for anything and everything that could happen.

A gasp tumbled past her lips and she darted her head to the right when Evan gently grasped both her hands and held them towards his lower chest.

"Hey, you're completely safe here. No injections, it's just saline fluids and if you don't like it or it makes you feel sick, I'll take it out for you myself. Okay?"

The unease was written across (Y/n)'s face, but she stopped trying to climb off the bed. She let herself focus on Evan's hand that was gently holding hers and the way his thumb glided over the back of her hand. She closed her eyes, tuning in on the feeling while his other hand held her fingertips so the nurse could set up the IV in the back of her hand.

If she didn't like it, Evan would remove it for her so she didn't hurt herself. If she wanted to go home and she was medically cleared, Evan would take her there. Wherever home was, now. He would make sure she was alright before he left her.

He promised.

***

"Buck? I need your help. That kidnap victim you brought to the hospital, she's gone mute. She won't talk unless you're here."

Athena's words circled round in Evan's head, despite his best efforts to forget her words and push that day to the back of his mind. But he couldn't. He couldn't stop his mind from replaying that day in his mind. He couldn't forget (Y/n)'s broken voice or what she said happened to her.

He could still feel her fingers clutching at his hand. He could feel her knee jittering up and down against the table, bashing into his thigh every now and then. He could still feel her shaking, twisting this way and that to try and stop from reliving each memory she retold.

Evan pushed himself to run faster as if he could outrun his thoughts, his memories. Her voice.

"How long were you kept there?"

"I- I don't know w-what the date is… I lost track of the days."

A month. She had been held captive for a month by someone she didn't know. Someone she had bumped into twice on the street who had decided that first time that she would be his victim.

"How did you escape?"

"He gave me a glass of water… t-the next time he came into the room, I… I smashed it on his head. The front door was unlocked, so I just- I started running."

Her voice followed him as he ran faster than before, following the path that curved around the park and the small lake on his right. Every now and then, Evan glanced at the lake. The morning sun was just starting to rise in the sky and it created beautiful plum purple streaks across the water with hints of burnt orange. He loved how the colours mingled together like a painting. But it didn't do anything to fight off her voice that followed him like a harrowing angel.

He had spent all afternoon down at the police station after Athena convinced the other Sargent that Evan wasn't coercing (Y/n) or forcing her to lie. He was just there for moral support and to give his statement of when he found her at the station.

He had even tagged along when Athena took (Y/n) to her apartment to pick up a few things. She had a roommate, but (Y/n) was going back to stay with her parents for a while. Evan didn't blame her. If he'd been through half of what she had suffered, he wouldn't want to be sitting in a lonely, frightening apartment when his flatmate was at work. Leaving him to stew in his thoughts on his own.

If it were him, he would be running to Maddie, asking her if he could stay with her to feel safe and secure again.

Evan had given her his number and said she could call or message if she needed anything or if she wanted to talk, that had been two days ago. He wanted to message her, but he didn't know what to say.

He couldn't get her out of his head. He couldn't stop hearing her voice as she said what had happened. He couldn't get that frightened face out of his mind. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her laid beneath the ambulance, staring at him like she thought he was a demon come to take her back to Hell.

Evan turned another corner, feeling as if his feet were barely touching the path as he jogged his third loop around the park. Four in the morning was the perfect time to come out for a run. No one else was about and the sun was just starting to rise in the sky.

He sucked in a deep, gasping breath as he tried to continue at this speed, but Evan's feet almost gave out beneath him when a familiar sight caught his attention.

It was her.

He recognised that face, those big saucer eyes that drew him in like black holes. That familiar hair which was now tied back in a much neater fashion, no longer tangled in knots around her face. There was no blood trickling down her head, no dirt beneath her nails and no scratches littering her hands.

She had trainers on and silky jogger leggings on that actually fit her and didn't need to be strapped tight around her hips. She had a purple vest top that also fit with no holes worn into it and no sleeves hanging off her shoulders.

He slowed himself down to a light jog before he veered to the left and slowed down his approach to the bench she was perched on.

When he got closer, he realised she was subtly shaking a little. Her body was arched forward, her elbows on her thighs and her hands clasped together between her legs.

She had been running too.

"Hi." He tried to keep his tone tender and quiet, he didn't want to abruptly pull her from her thoughts or give her a jumpscare.

(Y/n)'s head shot up and she squinted in the changing light to see if it was truly him. She recognised that voice. That rugged voice with a warm edge that made her blood fizzle in her veins and had adrenaline pooling in her stomach.

She couldn't stop the smile that lit up her face when she stared up at him. He was stood in front of her, wearing a loose pair of black shorts and a very thin black vest that clung to his chest like it was a size too small for him. His curls were damp with sweat and starting to stick to his temple and his neck and cheeks were flushed beet red from exertion.

"Hi Evan." She couldn't dampen down her smile and when she shuffled to the left, she was delighted when he sat down next to her. Their knees bumped together and (Y/n) leaned her head to one side so she could look over at him.

"How are you doing?" His knees moved back and forth from one another like repelling magnets and each time his knee touched her leg, (Y/n) tried to lean into the touch.

"Better than I was."

"Mind me asking why you're running at four in the morning?" When she grinned and cast her eyes up and down his frame, Evan chuckled. "My excuse is my shift finished at midnight. What's yours?"

(Y/n) wasn't sure why, but she felt like she could tell Evan the truth. She felt like she could admit what was on her mind and tell him anything. He was safe. He wouldn't judge, he wouldn't laugh or tell her to go get help or that she was being silly. And he seemed to genuinely want to help her, (Y/n) hadn't met anyone like him before.

"I can't sleep. When I escaped and started running I- I didn't feel safe, but for the first time, I knew I had a chance. So I thought running for a while might help… I don't know."

Evan ran his hand across his jaw and down the back of his neck that was layered in sweat, but he didn't laugh or shake his head or look at (Y/n) like she was strange.

He could understand that. (Y/n) had found her escape and she had ran to make sure she got away. She had her freedom from the moment she started running. Now she was home with her parents, she couldn't find out how to make herself feel safe.

Running early in the morning, alone, wasn't a very safe option but it was her choice. (Y/n) felt like she had some control back when she started running. She felt like she was running away from the panic, the anger, the nightmares, the memories. She was leaving them all behind when she started to run.

When his eyes cast up and down (Y/n)'s frame, trying to be subtle, Evan tilted his head to one side. His lips quirked and he made a small movement, gently pointing down towards her feet.

"Trainers hurting you?" He noticed she had slipped her feet out of her trainers and was now tapping her toes against the path.

The shy, slightly panicked look that crossed (Y/n)'s face made Evan feel a little nervous for her, but he wasn't sure why. He watched her look down at her feet, which were no longer bandaged. It had only been three days, Evan would have thought she would of applied fresh bandages to help keep her blisters clean and make it easier to walk.

Come to think of it, Evan wasn't sure running was the best idea when her feet would no doubt still be sore and causing her discomfort.

"I run faster without them." (Y/n) cringed at the hurt that flashed across Evan's face and the realisation that made his lips part and his jaw loosen.

She had been running in her trainer socks. That would re-open her blisters and make her soles ache. But Evan could see the reasoning in her eyes and it made him shiver. She ran barefoot because it would give her that same sense of adrenaline that she had when she escaped. It would push her to run harder and faster if she thought she was being chased. She was running to escape her emotions and try to make herself feel in control again.

"You'll hurt yourself." His voice was quiet and the understanding in his tone showed he wasn't trying to be rude or reprimand her, he was only trying to look out for her. "There are better ways to make yourself faster, you know. You can build up strength and speed, over time. You don't have to push yourself too far right now."

There was no hurry for (Y/n) to be faster, she didn't have to beat any records or run faster than she ever had right now, this morning. There was time to build herself up, if running was something she wanted to do which would calm her down.

"I suppose."

"Look, maybe you'd uh, you'd like a running partner? It might be safer, at this time. And I'd feel better knowing you're not alone."

Evan would rather run with her so she didn't start to panic or feel unsafe. Being out this early or late at night wasn't the best choice after what (Y/n) had been through, although Evan admired her for doing this in the first place. But if they were both out at this time, it made sense to run together.

He would feel better if he ran with her because then he knew if she got panicked or started to have a flashback, she wouldn't be on her own and he might be able to help. And he hoped it might make (Y/n) feel better. She could run alongside him and feel like she was gaining that control back without feeling like she was slipping back into a memory. And he would help her try and run faster or better and build stamina without needing to hurt herself in the process to do it.

Evan thought for a moment that (Y/n) was going to shake her head and kindly decline his offer. He thought maybe he had overstepped the mark or intruded on her personal space.

But when she inched closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, Evan found himself relaxing against her.

"I'd like that."

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #bobby nash #hen wilson #eddie diaz

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all-purpose-dish-soap · 9 months ago

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lowkey I kinda wanna top gaz or ghost out of curiosity on how they would react 🤔

gaz or ghost? gaz AND ghost. ranked competitive sex. the ol' good cock/bad cock.

they're both confident almost cocky but they show it very differently.

you tell gaz you wanna be on top this time.

"i'm fine with that," he says.

cool cool cool. easy. too easy, in fact.

he's smiling at you. "you want to be on top, you're on top." he says. "easy as."

so... you get to be the dominant one this time. he knows that's what you mean. right?

mm, harder sell. you wanna do his job? you're gonna need to prove you have what it takes. you're gonna have to work for it. talk like you mean it. don't whine, don't ask, don't just tell him what to do. command him.

and don't mess up.

nsfw ⬇

order him to take his clothes off. top him like you mean it--bounce on him like you don't need any help, because he's not helping you. and control yourself. edge him. don't show weakness. make him keep his eyes on you. keep his interest with your body, your voice, your tone.

(it's tough for him, feigning such precarious half-interest. pretending like you don't have a visegrip on his every atom. pretending like he's not suddenly understanding how it might feel to be possessed by a succubus. it's tough, but he's soldiering through because he's a great fucking teacher. this is good for you, you just don't know it yet.)

he's teaching you to use your whole body to tell him you're in charge. you need to make the rules.

if you don't--if you slip up--he'll make you sorry. he'll give you a crash course in how a mean dom operates.

(you might be able to collar him, but god help you if you fumble. the second you do, that o-ring choker is going on your neck, and his thumb is already hooked in.)

ghost--

ghost is a little easier to entice. he's a visual guy. he's a little smitten with anyone who approaches him first. you're offering to top him? to put your whole damn body on display? that's an act of service, baby.

even if you're doing it because you want to control the pace and the position, even if you want to take your own pleasure and act like you don't give a damn about his... you're still giving him exactly what he wants. if all he needs to do is lay back and shut up, he'll play your game.

not a tough job, either. not half bad. he could get used to this. nope, he's already used to it. he's thinking ahead--wondering what other dirty fantasies in that pretty head he could help fulfill.

then he shifts his hips down an inch to hit your sweet spot. you snap at him not to move.

his eyes flick up--from your hole squeezing his cock--to your face. strange sense of whiplash you're giving him--the instant flip from almost ignoring him to focusing squarely on him. negative attention or not, it's arousing. you shouldn't have done that.

"yeah?" he replies, voice low and rough. "you gonna make me?"

you don't have time to reply before he's shoving his hips up into you hard. one stroke, then two, then more, so slow and hard and deep your vision threatens to go white.

he's challenging you to keep ignoring him now.

"say it again," he growls. "tell me what to do one more time."

he reaches for your clit, and you fight him, grabbing his wrist, using it as leverage to sink down on him again, redoubling your pace.

you're both fighting to stay in control. ghost could overpower you easily but he's having fun. and you're putting on a hell of a show for him.

he'll contend with your attitude later. for now he just wants to keep you pissed off and horny enough to keep riding him like you've got something to prove.

riding ghost and gaz together...

you just know they're both talking at you, trying to get your attention as you fight like hell not to fall apart.

gaz is instructing you to sit up straighter, to clench your thighs so they don't shake, to control your voice--or keep it up, sweetheart. keep moaning like a slut if you want to be treated like one.

ghost is egging you on, enjoying how furious you're getting, how it makes you clench up and stutter when gaz says something that really gets to you. he tosses in his lot every so often to keep things going. like throwing a lit match into a pit of black powder and lead azide.

you're doomed. until.

you tell ghost to move his hands already so gaz can maneuver you by the hips instead.

that turns them against one another in negative two seconds.

suddenly they're critiquing each other. gaz smugly insinuates you're enjoying his technique more. ghost replies smoothly that it hardly matters to him; it's his attention you're after.

their back-and-forth gives you the precious time you need to clear your head. once you can finally fucking concentrate, you can push past all this edging you've been put through by stupid competition they've been having on you.

they keep one-upping each other and only half-notice what you're up to--until you throw your head back and make a sound of pure rapture, riding them both to completion. you throw yourself into the best orgasm of your recent life.

they're dead silent as you come down, grinding your hips in bliss as the final sparks of pleasure fizzle under your skin.

it sort of humbles them. but then again, it also inflates both their egos just enough to keep them from learning their goddamn lesson.

...

more Gaz / more Ghost / more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

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makeadealwithdean · 2 years ago

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Damon recording you while……..

18+, minors, back off!! using fem pronouns and language for this, hope that's alright! completely unbeta'd, sorry for the weird tense issues :/

No cause he would be soooo into it! He'd be lying on his back in bed so you could ride him, and he'd have one of those camcorders with the strap that wraps around his hand.

And the video itself would probably be shaky and dizzying to watch because of how hard you're slamming down on him again and again. So hard that his cock is ramming into your cervix every time you come down, probably leaving bruises too, but it's fucking worth it as far as you're concerned.

Especially since Damon can't stop panting, alternating between watching you through the little screen on the side of the camcorder and peering over the top of it for a pure, unfiltered view of your body. He can't help but moan and huff little breaths of praise out every so often.

"Shit, that's right, baby."

"Pretty girl..."

"Fuck that pretty pussy on m'cock."

You pray that his words are just loud enough for the mic on the camera to pick them up. Usually, Damon was so confident and cocky in bed, he rarely praised you like this. The soft whispers and mutters of a man rendered speechless by the sight and feeling of your body writhing on top of him.

The fact that you allowed him to even record you at your most intimate was amazing to him, the biggest display of your trust in him. Of course, he'd never show anyone else those videos, he was much too possessive of you for that. Only he got to see you like that, and fuck, that made the whole thing even sexier.

As much as he loved watching you bounce for him on camera, his patience would be growing thinner and thinner with every sweet moan that passed your lips. He would reach up to palm one of your tits, to squeeze and pinch the sensitive nipple, so he could watch you toss your head back, exposing all the delicate lines and veins of your neck for him and the camera.

Shit, that was it. He'd barely even take the time to stop the recording before tossing the camcorder onto some pillows that had fallen on the floor.

You'd squeal as he surged up to grab your waist and flip you over, and the sound would go straight to his dick. He couldn't deny he loved the sound of you screaming for him. Damon would climb on top of you in an instant, his true face showing as he bared his teeth at you. You'd scream again because you know he loves it, but you turn your head to the side to give him better access to sink his teeth into your neck.

His eyes darken, glued to your neck, and he barely gets out the words, "Fuck...okay?"

You nod eagerly, loving that he still opts for checking in, even though you've told him a thousand time he can. You trust him fully and completely, and besides, you like the pain, so you'd never deny him the additional satisfaction of feeding as he fucks deep into you.

His pointed fangs pierce your delicate skin carefully, the spot where you know he can control the blood flow. You're used to this by now, hardly even fazed by the idea that he's feeding on you.

No, you're quite unbothered. What you are a bit fazed by is how hard he's slamming into you now. On top, he has all the leverage, and he isn't holding back in the slightest. The slapping of his pelvis against yours already echoes around the room, and when he pulls back from your neck, eyes glistening darkly, tongue licking smoothly over the tips of his fangs, and lifts your thighs up, the echoing only grows.

Damon practically folds you in half, "Yeah, that's it princess. You taste so good for me, y'know? Could live the rest of m'life on you alone."

"I...know," you smirk as best as you can with his dick pistoning in and out of you at that speed. It'd hard to be snarky when you're getting the breath railed out of you at inhuman speed, but you try your best.

Damon smirks right back.

"Oh, you're still able to talk, baby? Hmm, well let's fix that..."

forevers: @hintsofhoney @deanwanddamons @katelyn--renee @lassie-bird @jensengirl83 @superfanficnatural @wayward-dreamer @that-one-gay-girl @writercole @flamencodiva

tvd: @day-trippin-dreamer @akshi8278 @stefans-wife @beth-gallagher22 @mooffinss @dixontardis @poppet05 @alexxavicry

damon: @yungblcds @niiight-dreamerrrr

join my tag list here!!

#damon salvatore #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore x fem!reader #tvd smut #tvd

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

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“you still mad at me?” while balls deep with rafe 😵‍💫😵‍💫.

GODDDD U ATE W THIS PROMPT 😩 like my jaw dropped

rafe was always doing this.

he’d make empty promises, plans even — talk to you all sweet with a warm hand on your back whispering suggestion of “that was the last time i’m getting involved with all that crazy shit, baby. i swear. s’just me you n’me now, you hear me?” and you being the fool, believed him.

until of course you’re catching him pulling back up to the drive on his motorcycle, yanking his helmet off with that ill-tempered expression of his that just tells you enough that somethings gone on, you know, the one where his teeth are grit, lips pressed together like they’d been sewn shut. that’s not even where it ends, because often times barry is close behind, pulling up alone side so they can debrief loudly in the living room, stinking up the place with pot. even if you were mad, you know the rules. no coming down the stairs when barry’s over.

you almost had started to enjoy the feeling of sulking when rafe would eventually skulk up the stairs after barry had left, shoulders heavy and ready to grovel. naturally, you put up quite the fight — and what might surprise you is that rafe let’s you mouth off, even if he knows you don’t understand the importance of his situation and likely never will.

“again and again rafe! how many times am i gonna have to put up with you just running off to god knows where when you promise me you’re not doing all that anymore! you were supposed to be with me today!” you nearly stomp your foot, that last sentence coming out childishly like an abandoned middle child. he nods, jaw ticking as he stares at the ground scratching his forehead, waiting for his lashing to end. once the tears start to roll, that’s his queue. like clockwork.

“come on, hey. y’know i love you, sweetheart. i’m sorry, okay?” he rushes to your side, sliding right up next to you on the bed and thumbing at the first batch of tears on your cheek, his hand so large it cups your skull at the same time. you want to preen into his touch, so elated with any affection after a day of missing him, worrying about him — but you don’t, because you’re still mad. be strong, you tell yourself.

you’re weak. you hate yourself.

not even 10 minutes of your sobbing and complaining later and he’s got your legs over his broad shoulders, balls slapping lewdly against you whilst he all but pumps you. his hands that are on your waist, using you as leverage reposition themselves so that he’s holding himself up over you more. a large hand wraps gently around your ankle as he does so, making sure your leg doesn’t slide off the strong slopes of his shoulder.

squeals and more tears are being punched out of you with each thrust, but he can see you physically relaxing, he can see you reaching out to him with a wobbling bottom lip so that you can hold onto his arms like you always do when he fucks you. it’s neutralising you.

“fuck, that’s m’girl.” he pants, mouth gaping at the way your pussy flutters around him. you’re so reactive to his voice he can’t believe it, never having met anyone who is so enamoured with everything he does. shit, maybe he should treat you better after all. he keeps talking, because he thinks you deserve to cum a whole bunch tonight, after putting up with all his shit. having a girlfriends made him gone all soft.

“you still mad at me?” he tilts his head, and you’re not sure if it’s intended to be mean or mocking, because it certainly doesn’t come out that way — his voice kind and eyes kinder, rolling the well kept muscles in his core to grind his cock against that spongey spot deep within. you don’t answer his question, clinging onto that last crumb of dignity and restraint. you pout through your whimpers, turning your head a little. he takes that opportunity to burrow down into your neck, his open mouth panting against your tepid skin as he speaks lowly again. “dont be mad at me baby. i’m only tryna look after my girl, you want that right?”

“mhm…” you reply before you permit yourself.

he slides his arms under you now, letting your legs down from his shoulders to hook around his waist instead. he’s holding your body close to his as he grinds, his pelvis smushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re so god damn close it hurts and you’ll do anything to cum.

“so good to me, baby.” he sighs and you cry out, arching your body harder to his. “i know. let it out. i’m so bad to you sweetheart s’the least i can do.” he mutters self pityingly before letting out a groan, cock pulsing inside you. you remember thinking about how right he was about that when you fell over the edge into a white hot orgasm.

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader

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sttoru · 1 year ago

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imagine older bf!gojo fucking us in doggy style in while we're wearing his hoodie😫😫

☀︎｜tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. smut. age gap (reader early 20’s, gojo early 30’s), size difference / size kink, doggy style, spanking, implied creampies, reader gets called ‘baby, sweetheart’.

satoru’s attempts to hide his obvious desire for you were rendered unsuccessful; no matter how much he tries to keep his hands to himself — it never works. this time was no different.

you were simply sitting on the couch with his hoodie on and the older man couldn’t stop the blood from rushing to his crotch. you looked extremely adorable in satoru’s hoodie, as it was oversized on your much shorter and smaller body.

“fuck— ‘m sorry, baby,” your boyfriend apologises between shallow breaths. he’s got you face down with your ass up on the bed; his hands using your hips as leverage for his intense thrusts. there was no mercy in the pace he set—he was too far gone, “you just. . look so fuckin’ good in my hoodie - couldn’t resist.”

the inability to resist going any harder on you also shows in his constant, harsh movements. the sticky sounds your cunt made due to your own wetness - and the few loads that satoru had dumped into you in the span of half an hour - echo throughout your shared space.

satoru’s fingers slither up your back, diving under the material of your (his) hoodie before moving up your front to fondle your breasts. all while his throbbing cock molds your insides to accommodate its hefty size.

“you should try on my clothes more often,” your boyfriend suggests whilst he leans his upper body down, his chest flush against your back as his hot breath tickles your ear, “i wanna try fucking you in all of ‘em.”

you moan and shiver at the thought which forms a sly grin on satoru’s face. he sighs before leaning back again, putting his hips in a better angle so he could hit all of your sweet spots—trying desperately to hear all the moans you could produce. of course, he can’t help but add a couple spanks to your ass.

the sight of the fat jiggling which each slam of his hips and slap of his hand nearly drives him to the edge again. satoru slips his wet dick out of your pussy for a second, pumping the length and using the tip to scoop up the droplets of his cum that escaped back inside you. he resumes his harsh thrusts, his ocean blue eyes taking in every jolt your body makes.

“mm shit, you’d look so good in that black shirt of mine,” satoru groans. he could already imagine how the compression shirt would define your tits and waist—how your nipples would poke through the thin material.

you tremble and babble incomprehensible words after lifting your head from the pillow. your lungs long for air and your hands claw at the bedsheets. your lover could easily decipher your actions: you’re about to reach another orgasm.

“aht aht, sweetheart. jus’ a little more, ‘kay?” satoru pouts, kissing the back of your head in a gesture of comfort. he pats your ass with a smile after you agree to hold back for a bit longer, “good girl.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #ok bye RUNNING

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sapphicjackal · 5 months ago

Text

Baby Dimension au

inspired by this

Baby dimension au

One of the many things that had always bothered Shen Yuan about Proud Immortal Demon Way was the way that Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky treated Luo Binghe’s children.

By the time that Luo Binghe was into his centuries long reign and the story completed, Luo Binghe had dozens of children. Some were named, and others were only known by the fact that their mother had to go into seclusion in the background of a harem drama. The exact number of his kids were unknown, and Luo Binghe showed little to no interest in them beyond their continued survival.

To ensure his children’s survival, Luo Binghe used Xin Mo to create a pocket dimension of sorts. Only his most trusted servants would be selected with the task of living permanently in these hidden realms to raise his children. Each child had their own separate pocket realm and caretaker, with children born of the same mother being grouped together.

Some of the more filial mothers spent time with their children, and Shen Yuan quietly suspects that a number of the ditched Harem members chose to live with their children instead of in the palace full of snakes.

The reason the fan dubbed ‘baby dimension’ came into existence was because of Luo Binghe’s first children.

Luo Binghe’s foray into fatherhood began with his first two children, Luo Meiying and Luo Fang.

When Luo Binghe lived on Qing Jing Peak, he had made a promise with Ning Yingying that when he married her, they would have a beautiful child together. Once the three realms had been unified, revenge had been taken, and the harem had been settled; Airplane introduced that retconned promise. Ning Yingying asked if they could finally have a baby together and Luo Binghe agreed.

Of course, this sent Sha Hualing into a jealous fit. She acted out and terrorized the other harem members until Luo Binghe agreed to give her a child as well. To prevent Sha Hualing from escalating and trying to do anything to make Ning Yingying miscarry, Luo Binghe agreed to impregnate her as well.

Naturally this led to a threesome sex maraton between Ning Yingying, Sha Hualing, and Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe gathered a fertility lotus plant for the two of them, and they locked themselves away in Luo Binghe’s chambers for 3 days. The two girls spent the whole time fighting each other and vying for Luo Binghe’s attention as well as more turne with the Heavenly Pillar.

It ended with both of the wives undeniably pregnant.

Fast Forward some harem antics where some wives tried to sabotage the pregnancies, and a lot of kinky pregnancy related sex, the two babies were born. Ning Yingying’s daughter, Luo Meiying, and Sha Hualing’s son, Luo Fang. Luo Binghe was there for the births of his children and he seemed genuinely pleased about it. Sha Hualing and Ning Yingying were obviously the most favored wives for a time, as Luo Binghe exclusively dual cultivated with either of them and spent a lot of time with his children.

Then the readers got bored of this domestic arc.

Luo Binghe’s children were faced by constant threats, targeted by the harem and his enemies alike. The dangers were so numerous that Sha Hualing herself wanted to go into seclusion with her child, just so that her son would survive. Of course, she was more motivated by the fact she didn’t want to lose the leverage that the child gave her after all of the effort she spent bringing it into the world, but still. It was a problem.

The solution?

Creating a series of Hidden Realms using Xin Mo.

Since the space was only accessible through Xin Mo, nobody could threaten the safety of his children any longer. He allowed his wives to choose their most loyal servant to entrust the task of raising their children. After setting them up with all they would need, and telling the mothers they could ask any time for visits, he left the children to be raised in the Hidden Realms, with the expectation they could leave once they reach adulthood.

After that, his children were promptly forgotten and only mentioned in passing.

Ning Yingying ended up having another child later on, and that one joined his older sister in the Baby Dimension after being weaned.

From there, pregnancies and children were only mentioned in passing. There were no updates as to what goes on in the Baby Dimensions, and Luo Binghe’s children became yet another forgotten plot line.

Any children he had were forgotten in favor of an ever expanding harem of women who were wedded, bedded, and forgotten.

The whole thing bothered Shen Yuan immensely, being a common topic that he brought up in his vicious reviews of each chapter. Yes, Luo Binghe was a blackened stallion protagonist, but it didn’t make sense for his character to simply have a bunch of children that he forgot existed in favor of getting his dick wet. Luo Binghe seemed to genuinely love his children during the time before he sent them away, and it was the closest thing to happiness that he displayed since the beginning of the story with his adoptive mother.

None of the other fans cared about it, so Luo Binghe’s unknown number of children were thoroughly forgotten. Even the end of the story didn’t address the children whatsoever! Not even a mention of Luo Binghe having an heir, let alone multiple.

Shen Yuan had never forgotten about it, but it did get tucked away in some far off corner of his mind after he transmigrated.

Now, he lived as Shen Qingqiu, and he was happily married to his own version of Luo Binghe.

The reason all of his prior frustrations came racing back to him is because his husband asked if they could have children. The two of them had been married for 15 years now, and a lot of the problems from earlier in their relationship had been worked on. Luo Binghe was no longer as intensely jealous because of his abandonment issues to the point that having children would be upsetting to him.

They were in a good place to start discussing things.

Shen Qingqiu had stepped down as Peak Lord with the rest of the Qing generation in favor of their successors, and instead moved full time to the Demon Realm. He had long since revealed his true identity as a transmigrator to his Husband, so Shen Yuan adopted his old name once he left the Human Realm.

Their rule was secure, they had been married for years, and their relationship was stable. It seemed like the perfect time to add to the family.

There did exist flowers and relics that could allow men to get pregnant, however, once Luo Binghe brought up the topic, Shen Yuan’s mind instantly went to the abandoned children of Luo Bingge.

Shen Yuan knew that his Binghe would be a wonderful father, one that would never abandon his children. Shen Yuan never really got over the fact that all those children had been made and discarded, out of sight and out of mind.

So, he made a deal with Binghe.

They would have one biological child together, but after that, any additional children would be ones that they obtained from Binghe’s counterpart. Binghe initially protested, wanting nothing to do with that imposter, but Shen Yuan laid out the way all of those children had been abandoned and how it had bothered him for years.

It took some arguing and tears, but eventually an agreement was made.

Luo Binghe bore pregnancy with grace and sneakily used his blood parasites to ensure that egg split, resulting in twins. Luo Binghe was ecstatic with pregnancy, having fought to be the one that carries the child. Shen Yuan thought that as the Emperor, Luo Binghe should be the one to get him pregnant, but Luo Binghe said he’d only agree to snatching the imposter’s children if he gets to give birth to Shizun’s babies.

Shen Yuan gave in to prevent having a Qi deviation over the sheer nonsense that Luo Binghe spewed.

Shen Mingyu and Shen Yongrui were fraternal twins, a girl and boy. They both took after Shen Yuan more in looks, but shared Luo Binghe’s curly hair, something that Shen Yuan was extremely pleased with. The two were doted on and spoiled endlessly, beloved by their parents and people, who were happy to have an actual heir at last.

When the children were 4, Luo Binghe started to get restless, asking for more.

Thus began their newfound hobby of breaking into Baby Dimensions and kidnapping children.

Well, to be more exact.

Thus began a series of excursions where they traveled to various baby dimensions to meet with the children there and get to know them. When they offered the opportunity to leave and come with them to their own world, each and every child jumped at the chance to leave, even knowing ahead of time that Luo Binghe wasn’t the father that sired them.

They didn’t do it too often. Not wanting to do the same thing as the original and forget about their children and spending time with them because they valued quantity. They made sure that each and every one of their children were loved, regardless of if they were created by them specifically.

Each new addition to their family brought joy to their lives. Shen Yuan truly couldn’t understand how Luo Bingge didn’t adore each of these wonderful beings that he helped create. Shen Yuan loved all of his children, and they were each a blessing.

Maybe Shen Yuan got a little ambitious, because he started to want the two that started it all. Luo Meiying and Luo Fang, the ones that almost could have had a loving father if only the readers hadn’t gotten bored of domesticity. Shen Yuan wanted them to have better. He had avoided taking them thus far because they were the children of the main and favored wives, but they had taken close to a dozen children without notice over the years.

Just like the rest of their siblings, Luo Meiying and Luo Fang agreed to join them.

However, this time they caught the attention of Luo Bingge. Turns out, Luo Bingge had been noticing his children dwindling, so he set extra protections around all of his remaining children so that he could catch the culprit and save his missing children, if they were still alive.

Luo Bingge came to demand his children back, but his children all claimed that they were Shen Yuan and Luo Bingmei’s children.

Bingge doesn’t actually have THAT many kids at this point in the timeline

SY was grossly overestimating how many kids LBG had in general

atm Bingge only had like 18 kids and Bingqiu stole 10 of them

Bingge does actually check on his kids when he can get away from his harem (which isn’t often)

this is yet another thing that the fake has stolen from him

even his own flesh and blood prefer an imposter over their own father

it really fucks Bingge up

plus side is that he figures out that Nice Shizun is actually named Shen Yuan

then he finds his own SY

And he makes sure that the rest of his kids won’t get stolen by abolishing the baby dimensions and bringing the kids out

SY becomes their teacher

Bingge believes in adopted parent relationships so he doesn’t try to take his kids back, but he does fall into a weird shared custody agreement with Bingqiu

Bingge makes harming his children punishable by death, and his wives are NOT exempt from this. Little Palace Mistress finds this out the hard way when she tries to eliminate one of Bingge’s daughters and gets publicly executed.

Bingge overhauls the harem in general, because now he has got his priorities in order. Which are railing his kid’s teacher, and also taking care of his kids because he doesn’t want them to get taken from him and lose out on them.

Bingge stops expanding his harem and even downsizes it, plus he works out something other than dual cultivation to control Xin Mo because having sex is cutting into his time braiding his children’s hair. And also trying to sleep with their teacher.

Bingge finds being a dad a lot more fulfilling than being a harem master and emperor of the united realms, and also fucking his children’s teacher. That also fills him better.

#svsss #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen yuan #bingyuan #no #bingge is not jealous of his own children #what makes you think that?#baby dimension au #binggeyuan #luo bingge

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