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wormwoodartemisia · 23 days ago

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[One of my favourite tropes in all variations: getting rescued, one way or the other - and I really need more people to write about it 😇]

I guess enough of us have probably already made certain experiences with that one kind of guys who simply wouldn't let the issue drop when you tell them that you're not interested, no matter what you say (in decreasing stages of politeness), unless...

{Only this time, we turn the tables a bit. 😏}

Claimed

Sometimes you need to be rescued - and sometimes it's the others…

About 5.2k words

Established Ghoap, civilian afab!Reader; (almost) no specific description (except that Reader has got soft hair that's long enough to run one's fingers through + Reader might appear rather tall at some point, but nothing in detail); no use of y/n

Warning: no smut actually taking place, just some references (mostly implied, intention to have sex); taste of alcohol

[[In case you want some more info: first meeting; aggressive, unrequited flirting: pestering and being a nuisance (when 'no' is interpreted as 'try harder' or simply ignored, but neither by Reader nor Ghost/Soap); fake kiss; What do we think about a threesome {MMF/MFM}?]]

Your original plan was to go out and spend some quality time on your own, focussing on nothing in particular, just floating through your own mind. However, it's one of those nights...

The bar is crowded in a pleasant way. When you enter, you can nontheless still get you favourite spot in the small booth not too far away from the bar counter. The perfect place for treating yourself with your favourite drink and indulging in the typical noises here that let you relax after an ardous week full of work. Normally...

The night is still young, you're in good spirits altogether. On such lazy evenings, you like people-watching, in case someone catches your attention. Then you wouldn't actively listen to their conversations, of course, but discretely observe them a bit, guess their mood and wonder what circumstances brought them here. A good training for staying attentive and creative alike.

Taking a sip from your drink, you casually start scanning the taproom with your eyes, when suddenly you notice a tall, broad figure in black appear from the back of the spacious room and lean against the counter, just a few seats away from you. For the shortest of moments the man takes you in and briefly nods at you in acknowledgement. You have hardly any time to reciprocate his gesture before he turns away again to order two drinks.

Of course you remember this stoic man from several other visits here, outstanding as he is, always looking the same, clad in the darkest colours only, his face covered by a black surgical mask he never takes off fully. He's one of the regulars (even if he's sometimes away for weeks), just like you - but you wouldn't have thought that he’s ever noticed you in here, let alone make it known to you...

In all the past months, you never saw him look your way, not even slightly. He always seemed totally concentrated on the guy he kept company - that boisterous, ever-grinning mohawk with his fiercely piercing blue eyes that winked at you playfully one night when you passed them on your way out to head home. A contagious smile. Handsome man in his extrovert personality, but you don't find his mysterious, calm mate any less attractive, though you haven't seen much of him so far, except his short blond hair, some fair skin and now his dark, steady eyes a few moments ago.

You save his expression in your memory. Definitely something worth remembering.

To be honest, these two are your favourite people to watch.

Together, they take a presence in the room that's unmatched, draws you in, clouds your thoughts, if you allow yourself to go astray. You've never witnessed anything like that before. These two men have captivated you right from the start and it took you some time to put it into words: blowing through the landscapes of your mind, Mohawk is a storm, Mask is its eye... They belong together.

Such a beautiful couple (you're absolutely sure that's what they are, you can’t have misread their interactions), radiant energy, all easy-going, just pure affection, content with and enough for each other, never any drama.

Well, there's always a first time...

When Mask picks up his two drinks, he manages to take two steps back into the direction where he came from before he stops midmotion. Mohawk has just entered the stage of your field of vision, approaching fast from the backroom and stepping at the counter behind his mate. He leans his back against it, sighing audibly. You wouldn't need to be as close to them as you are in order to notice his furrowed brows and the tight line of his lips. It's easy to tell that he’s frustrated - massively so. Slowly Mask turns around, handing Mohawk his drink.

"Well, Johnny, no more damsel in distress, I take it?"

"Ach, haud yer weesht."

You can’t avoid becoming a witness to their talk. Despite the other people around, it’s a quiet evening and their deep voices carry over to you easily, closeby as you are, the tension not to be overheard.

Johnny takes a sip, looks at his partner and rolls his eyes. He's just noticed someone behind his friend. You've never seen him that annoyed: "No second act, please..."

Then you see the beauty beeline towards the two men.

You bet every guy in here would give her 10/10 - and you could readily agree - if not for her flawless outward appearance desperately trying to cover up that one specific look in her eyes, with which she holds her chin up just one bit too high. Though, nine of ten would probably gladly ignore that streak of arrogance (- which you feel so obviously oozing off her in case one is willing to take one closer look - ) if that meant getting a chance to know her better - and her pants.

She's all seductive smiles: "How impolite of you to keep me waiting!", she chirps, addressing both men equally, voice like sugar syrup, sticky, dripping. Used to getting what she wants...

Taking another sip, Johnny doesn't even bother to look at her at this point anymore.

First-row-seat, you can watch the drama unfold.

Mohawk: "We'd rather be alone."

Beauty (flirtatiously): "Now we're getting closer. Just my thought. So we're leaving?"

Black Mask: "You are very welcome to go."

Beauty: "Well, you already get me going, mystery, but I'd love to come as well."

You almost choke on your drink. This woman is terrible, fully ignoring both men clearly pointing out that her attention is unwanted! It has become obvious that she must have already been digging on your two favourites for quite some time, finally even making them change their place...

Yet she doesn't stop: "If you know what I mean."

Mask: "We get it, but we choose to ignore the implication."

Beast: "Ohh, playing hard to get, sweets? I like me some good challenge!"

Mask: "Nice. Then show us how fast you can get away."

Beast: "No problem. I'm off in less than one second if you take my hand."

"I'd rather take yer head", Johnny mumbles, but in contrast to you, she can hear him and grins wickedly: "And I'd give you head willingly, Scotty too Hottie!"

She reaches out to him, but Mask's cold voice actually makes her stop.

"Don't touch him."

Beast chooses to let Mask's words play into her favour: "No need to be jealous, killer."

"Go pick someone else."

You're convinced that he'll finally get through to her, but Beast gets distracted.

"Yeah, pick me, sugar! Anytime!", some random guy in passing by turns to her, immediately posing, showing her his upper arm, flexing his biceps, clearly quite taken with her outward appearance.

"Not now", she dismisses him, noticeably annoyed, but he only shrugs, grinning, before calling back over his shoulder: "Change your mind, lemme know, gorgeous."

Mask: "You should go with him."

She gives that bloke a swift lookover. "Not my type."

"We're nae yer type, either", Johnny points out.

Beast: "Oh, but you are. Love that brogue."

Mask: "Let me rephrase: you are not our type."

Beast: "Don't worry, I can become anybody's type."

She wants to touch him, both of them, badly so, you can tell, from the way her fingers are twitching at her side, but something's holding her back. So she does have a slight idea of boundaries, at least.

"We might nae be interested in women altogether", Johnny states matter-of-factly and has her head snap into his direction again.

"Hot - but you've never had a woman like me before, I promise."

"True. And ah hope we'll never meet one like ye again in future, either."

"You won't. I'm unique - and you really don't wanna miss this one chance, boys. I'll make it worth your while."

Rather worst your while, you think to yourself while you notice their patience wearing thin. It is beyond you why she doesn't take 'no' (all those 'no's') as what it is. It makes you angry, this full display of blunt disrespect, every rejection - in decreasing stages of politeness - just a spur for her to try harder, eagerly pushing an ego that is non-existent...

It's now that Mask furrows his brows and rummages in a pocket of his jeans: "We don't find you attractive at all." On finishing his sentence, he takes a look at what he's holding in his palm now, a silently vibrating mobile phone. He shoots the other man a swift glance: "I'm'a take that call now, Johnny. Make her leave." His tone has changed, laced with finality.

Mohawk straightens, the command initiating a subtle but nontheless visible transformation. He responds to his masked partner with one single firm nod: "Yes, sir."

The mask exits.

Beast was quiet during their exchange but now she's biting her lower lip and turns to Mohawk seductively: "Sexy."

He looks at her, the bright summer sky of his eyes now the cold of the frostiest glacier: "Oan yer bike!", a deep, low rumble.

You can sense that this was his last attempt to give her a decent way out - unfortunately she doesn't take her chance: "I'd rather ride you, handsome."

You know this type of person - man or woman, makes no difference. She won't stop.

Mohawk has just realised this sad fact, too. He breathes out deeply and while his eyes are wearily drifting towards the exit, he grazes your gaze for a split second.

Meanwhile, Beast dares to get closer, the attempt of a huntress, about to reach out and - what? Touch his hips?

It crosses your mind that this insufferable person would have already been removed from the bar had she been a man harassing two women. However, with switched roles (and a beautiful woman being after two broad blokes) nobody (except Mohawk, Mask & you yourself) seems to fathom any fundamental problem...

You can see that this might get ugly (situations easily do with people like Beast) - and since you know how things can be... Your turn.

Ready to avoid the catastrophe...

He doesn’t get the time to say anything, nor does she to lay hand on him. You're faster.

Within one heartbeat you've grabbed your drink and pop up at his side, so much out of nowhere, that you manage to catch Beast by surprise and get her full attention.

You press yourself against Mohawk's side (as unobtrusive as possible under these circumstances) and, by reflex, you guess, his left arm comes to rest around your waist, a pose the two of you have fallen into so naturally, nothing odd about it, no hint of hesitation from either of you.

He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t act surprised. He simply gets what you're doing here - but Beast doesn’t have a clue.

Showtime...

This is the guise you've chosen to present, and you perform artistically: there's a hint of defeat in your features, a slight hue of regret and a thin-lipped smile pointing downwards, emphazising that you know when a game is over.

You make sure that Beast gets enough time to study your facial expression. Then you donne Mohawk a genuine smile: "OK, honey, you win. I am fucking jealous seeing you flirting with some random woman. You were right, I was wrong. It really pisses me off when you tease her. I need this bad charade to end right now or I’ll forget myself", you notice a spark of mischief in his eyes, "And yes, darling, for the records, you have just won our bet. Happy now?"

Mohawk smirks at you, "Wasnae too painful tae confess now, was it, luv?" and makes you wonder how a grin can be so subtle and triumphant at the same time. You can feel him squeeze your waist in affection.

Now you turn to the other woman: "Really good job, dearie, digging on my man, testing my limits. So, have a nice one and farewell."

You can see the wheels in her head turning.

Does she call your bluff? No, at least not yet.

Doesn't mean it's over, though...

She gives you a calculating look-over, probably wondering why this man would be with you [in general, but especially] when he could have her - but she doesn't voice you're not his league, as some might say. She notices his hand caressing you softly, small gestures that make your acting convincing - the final proof, you think, to make her believe your claim is true.

Yes, "OK, I get it, the two of you belong together", but "but then I won’t let that blond enigma off the hook, for sure!"

Your heart skips a beat.

"Pity", a deep voice chimes in. Neither that woman nor you have noticed the masked man's return, his eyes fixed on Beast. So both of you stare at him when he takes one final step, "I'm all hers as well. Actually", to put his arm around your shoulder and drag your body into his possessively, "we're a throuple."

That poor woman is speechless for a second, blinks, flummoxed. "Throuple?", she repeats, utterly dumbfounded, her voice dripping with doubt.

"Aye, throuple, ye ken?", now Mohawk closes back in on you as well, his hand sliding to the small of your back. His once mischievous smile grows darker as he pulls up one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth, showing teeth, grinning - it's the wolfish way: "We fuck each other relentlessly and live happily ever after, just the three of us."

The blond wolf knows to add an eloquent thought: "With just the right amount of cocks 'n' holes to take care of, one sweet, perfect cunt. Yours not needed."

Her eyes go wide at their crude, blunt proclamation, a behaviour so different from before, but you yourself can’t help the smirk that creeps on your lips. Too much information for her...

Her eyes dart to the upturned corners of your mouth, the way you can hardly conceal your grin gets her suspicious.

However, your own focus finds a reason to shift when at the same time you feel the two men moving you in perfect sync. While Mask's right hand is sliding up from your shoulder to your neck, his left hand is tracing your left arm downwards until his long fingers can intertwine with yours. Using only soft, sweet pressure, he's holding your hands against your hip. Meanwhile, he's turned your body away from facing the other woman so that your back is firmly pressed to his front.

You feel the outlines of his muscular body, too fascinated to do anything else but comply - and why wouldn't you? It's too delightful a moment not to simply bask in - hyperaware of how your handsome 'darling' has also fully turned to you.

He's the counterpart to the man behind you, pressing his chest to your front, radiating heat that directly pools into your core. It comes oh-so naturally for you to place your right arm on his shoulder, your fingers sliding up his neck and into the soft strands of his hair, by instinct. You could swear you hear him faintly moan in pleasure; you can see dark night dawning in the shining sky of his cerulean orbs.

Caught between two predators, you couldn't be a prettier prey for them to play with... They're a sling that grows tighter around you, a closely woven net you don't want to escape.

You just concentrate on the feeling, let it swallow you whole, relishing in the moment, pretty sure you'll never get anything comparable again.

It's a perfect moment - apart from the fact that it’s not real.

However, maybe that's just what's made it all possible for you - no self-doubts, no fear of overstepping or misreading anybody's signs, no fear of rejection - for you won't ever be close to one of these guys, who aren’t into any woman after all. That has been clear to you from the very beginning, undeniably. Maybe it’s the first time you really feel at ease in a situation that could be part of a fantasy (literally your own fantasy!) - and the way they play along (a bit exaggerated in a way, perhaps) does some good to your self-confidence, despite only being a play pretend.

Suddenly you are pushed back over the edge of reality when the reason behind everything disturbs your haunting demon of harmony.

"You do them both?", Beast inquires, voice too shrill.

Don't let her catch you, this was your idea! Play cool!

Your remark sounds casual enough: "Well, yes... Not necessarily at the same time, though..."

"Not necessarily not at the same time", Mask clarifies pointedly, just loud enough for the four of you to hear and he lets his hips roll against the curve of your arse in one smooth motion that holds enough pressure to softly push you forward.

His partner knows how to catch you, perfect timing, by letting his own lower body meet you less than halfway. If you thought the three of you were close before, then you were wrong. Now you definitely feel the outlines of their dicks against your body. The vice their muscular frames create presses a shaky breath out of you that you didn’t know you were holding. It sounds too close to a wanton moan.

Suddenly feeling caught out, you hurry to hide your face from her in the crook of Mohawk's neck, blushing.

"Careful", you whisper into his ear, in a mild shock regarding your reaction to the two men. Mohawk makes you look him in the eye, tenderly thumbing your chin, and grins like a challenge. The way he then gingerly licks his lips makes him look hungry, almost lets you assume he might actually want to try and get a bite of you... What a silly idea for you to have...

Time seems to stretch and leaves your mind in a dizzy state.

"Lucky you." Her comment startles you. Why is she still there?

You sigh. Ultimately, you've put yourself in this situation - which isn't unpleasant in itself, rather the opposite. So don't be shy in the last few metres. Keep playing until the curtain falls...

"Luckiest girl in town", you confirm and mean it, "Can always have my favourite sandwich whenever I want."

You turn your head so you can have it leaning against the cheek of the man behind you, who closes the distance between your faces immediately. He welcomes the gesture like a purring cat and you feel the low sound vibrate in his chest.

Finally Beast truly takes a look at the two men and the woman who has claimed them. She can’t but feel betrayed. Her face turns into an ugly display of her defeat.

She snaps at both men equally: "You could have just told me right from the start that you got a girlfriend."

"Less fun", Mask comments deadpan and doesn't care about how she looks at him, fury raging in her eyes: "Arsehole! Wasting my time like this with your childish games! Grow up!"

How you despise her for her ignorance, for not letting the issue drop at once unless another woman has put a valid claim on the objects of her desire... How you loathe people not accepting 'No' and blaming others...

There is a jet black feeling boiling under your skin like the most Stygian gloom.

Beast is still glaring at the three of you, she might be even waiting for an apology that will never come.

"We're done talking now", your voice is ice crashing on her heated temper.

Mohawk knows a drastic method to underline your words. He turns your face away from her, his warm hand cupping your cheek, and draws you in. For a kiss...

You feel bold, (wrath coursing in your veins because of her) moving your lips as a tribute to all these Hollywood film-kisses you've seen in your life, mimicking passion; no tongues, no such line would be crossed with him. This will stay safe, you assume.

He tastes of whisky - tar notes and peat with tangy crisp seaweed and smoky bacon swirling on the surface, hints of sweet vanilla. Mouth feel is superb, dark and sweet, grounding you.

How long is this imitation of a kiss taking that you can process all these impressions? What's your flavour on his lips?

The woman watches you kissing for an endless moment, but how would you know?

You're focalised on the open-eyed dance of your mouths that you're sharing with this stranger of your dreams, concentrated on keeping up the façade while the two of you are holding each other's gaze, his boyfriend pressing your backside to his own body. What a strange intimacy...

When you feel the man behind you carefully untangle your intertwined fingers to let his hand find its way between Mohawk's and your own body in order to have his wide palm spread below your heart, his other hand wandering up your neck and into your hair, soft strands gliding through his fingers like liquid silk, a pull that's not a pull, you know that the other woman has finally left.

It's time for you to break the kiss, observing the man in front of you, that smug smile spreading on his delicious lips and reaching into his eyes, half-lidded now like those of a well-fed cat. You are preparing for an awkward feeling to set in, but it never comes. Somehow you stay caught in that surreal bubble the three of you have created.

Should you have a bad conscience towards the man in your back for your having indulged in kissing his partner? You decide against this notion. He has no reason to be upset or jealous, has he? You did nothing wrong, only responding to a kiss, not initiating it yourself; somehow it wasn't even a kiss, all just a fake, a game, nothing serious...

Right here, right now, you don't have the slightest idea how right and wrong you are at the very same time...

[Prepare to learn, dearie dove - choices have consequences.]

"Pure dead brilliant, bonnie", Johnny beams, "Tha was the nicest way out of this fucked-up situation. Ta."

Your proud, sly smile replies: "Just couldn't tolerate her disgusting behaviour anymore." Then you shift your weight to prepare for stepping aside in order to give up the formation of your human sandwich, but the man in your back reaches out his left hand, placing it on his partner's biceps.

Your cerulean bliss smiles impishly at the masked man in a way that leaves no question as to their feelings for each other (Beautiful!) and lets the fingers of his right hand come to rest on Mask's lower arm.

Just a gesture of affection among them, for sure, but your attempt of leaving this flat triangle has failed miserably, keeping you caged between the two of them. (Probably for the better since Beast might still be around!) Anyway, why would you complain? So when his two saphires return to you, you add: "I knew I simply had to do something when she was about to get all handsy with you."

He grimaces in repugnance: "Aye, got too close, that one", then he addresses his boyfriend, "Bloody bint was about tae grab ma bahookie, ye ken?"

"English, MacTavish."

You can hear the grin in Mask's deep baritone.

"Sorry, sir", he's not sorry at all, "Let me translate: my arse." He flashes you one of his flawless smiles and a conspiratory wink you bathe in. Their banter is enjoyable!

Grinning, you present your own theory: "I bet she would have even kissed it right on the spot if you had told her to or simply let her..."

The man in front of you says nothing in reply, but you see his eyes flick to your lips. You feel the weight in your back shift when the tall blond leans forward to whisper in your ear, just loud enough for his friend to hear, too: "I think he liked your kiss much better."

Then you feel a soft press against your jaw that confuses you. Has he just put his masked lips on you?

You need to blink several times, clear your throat and reply: "That wasn't... real. Only some sort of film-kiss. No real kiss, you know?"

"It was lips on lips, hen. Half way up tae geez a winch, eh? Sounds much like a kiss tae me."

"Bloody looked like one as well."

"And tasted so, too. Yer such a nice addin tae Scotch whisky, bonnie."

You swallow - speechless, considering the turn this conversation is taking. You want to come up with some witty remark - but you totally lack any clever ideas... You play for time, reaching out to the bar counter, taking a sip from your drink.

You notice the blond's hand close around his own glas. It's only when Mohawk places his right hand on your hip that Mask lets go of the other's arm. To you it’s nothing but coincidence. The only thing you do know is that Mask will now turn his face towards the bar, away from the crowd, before pulling one sling of the mask off from behind his ear to take a good swig of his beer. You watched him do so many times in the past while you were observing the two of them. - Enough of a reprieve for you to sort out and contemplate your feelings.

You convince yourself that you shouldn't read too much into their flirty behaviour. After all, these two men are a gay couple. You will just enjoy yourself. Clearly no reason to get flustered, right? Have fun and flirt back - and let them kiss you if they like. For your part, you liked the kiss(es?) - real or not!

Then the fabric is back in place and Johnny grins at him, a thin-lipped, intense little smile, that suits his half-lidded eyes: "Ah bet she'd taste delicious with tha drink of yers as well, Simon."

The pale man hums in anticipation, a deep, rich sound, promising. "We shall see."

Still trapped between the two them, you turn to Mask as far as possible, attempting a self-confident smile in response: "Now shall we?"

His right hand lands at the nape of your neck, his thumb ghosting soft circles on your skin. "Guess so, sweet'eart. Or do you think we haven't noticed you staring and watching", your eyes go wide and the crinkles growing around his eyes tell you that he’s smiling, "at any occasion, right, Johnny?"

"Aye, very accurate, Si. Studyin us as if it was her job."

Despite the fact that he's talking to the mask (Simon!), Mohawk (Johnny!) is looking at you solely. "Like some spy, gatherin intel or so."

Spy?! Something in his voice makes you believe that this might not entirely be a joke. On the one hand, you're shocked about the fact that - obviously - you are far worse at people-watching than you thought. How embarassing! But on the other hand, it’s such an appealing idea that they think you capable of actually being such femme fatale. Thrilling! (Or worrisome?)

However, ... what would there be to spy about them, anyway? Despite their scars, testimony of various hardships, they'd hardly be some modern James Bonds...

Well, you couldn't care less! This evening is the most exciting thing since... Oh, don't rack your brains, honey!

You bite your lower lip as not to let them see the wide grin that would definitely threaten to appear on your face. "I'm no spy." A soft smile in your voice can be heard unmistakenly as you are about to look down to where your and Johnny's bodies are touching, but, within a split second, Simon's hand reaches around your throat, with the softest of pressures only, and keeps your head tilt up with his index finger.

"Luckily, you're not", Simon's voice, close to your ear, sends a shiver down your spine.

Johnny's words make it whip straight into your core, the promise of an underlying danger: "Good fer ye, lassie, and good fer us. Win/win situation. Rare enough." His hand seems to burn on your hip. And once more your world shrinks down to these two strangers.

Simon's mask touches your earlobe: "Had a bet whether you would take the first step, doll."

"And what a first step tha was, bonnie, placin yerself in my arms, makin me yer man. Sweetest compensation fer me losing." He winks at you conspicously, daringly, but you are still processing their words.

Simon lets go of your throat when you take your drink again. You drain the rest of your glas in one go.

"Finished?", the Scotsman asks, "Then cummoan."

You glance around the taproom. "Have you seen where she went to after she'd left us alone?", you ask.

It's Simon who answers your question. "Left the bar some time ago with her friends."

You nod, relieved immensely, for you wouldn't like her to come across you sitting here all by yourself. "That's good. OK. Have a nice evening then, you two." You try a good-natured smile. It makes you a bit sad that your night together has already come to an abrupt end.

The roguish look Simon and Johnny exchange with each other goes completely unnoticed by you.

Now Mohawk playfully nudges you with his shoulder, slowly, tenderly, as not to really push you away with it. "Wiz talkin tae ye, hen. Had the impression it got pretty obvious that the three of us would be leavin thegether."

This is an unexpected turn...

You stare at the grinning man in front of you, dumbfounded, kind of, speechless.

Could I possibly misinterpret their intention regarding the things to come?

The way Johnny's looking at you makes unmistakenly clear: he means it; however, they won't coax you into anything you wouldn't want - you can decline, put a stop to it, anytime; they themselves wouldn't offer anything they disliked, either. No obligations.

You turn to get a look at the man behind you. He holds your incredulous gaze, unblinking, followed by one single affirmative nod.

This can’t be happening...

Their directness, sincerity, makes your decision an easy one.

Too good to be true...

A playful smile starts to spread on your lips. You only wish your voice sounded firmer when you finally answer. "I'd like that. So what happens now?"

Johnny's palms run up your arms and down again. "Listen, bonnie: ye set the pace. All ye need to ponder about is the timing, eh?"

"The timing?", you ask, slightly confused.

"Aye. Make up yer mind, take a moment tae decide. We've got plenty o' time. Ye can have anything."

You're still no wiser when Johnny addresses his mate as if you weren't there and listening: "Ah'm curious tae see what she will pick. Ah bet she's already gone through every scenario in her head since she started watching us, our wee minx." Simon slowly nods in response. "Got that impression, too."

On your way out, you're comfortably tugged in between the two almost-strangers who have just happened to become your two boyfriends by accident. Johnny’s got his arm around your waist again, a heavy, pleasant reminder, solid warmth, whereas Simon's massive hand is a crisp burn at the back of your neck, alluring autumn on your skin, the phantom of a chill ready to reach under your surface.

The moment the three of you are out of earshot, the masked man helps you to see things clearly, to understand the transition from fantasy to reality:

"So, how do you want us, love? One after the other - or both of us at the same time?"

#ghoap #ghostsoap #soapghost #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #cod #call of duty #claimed #🧼💀👀#ghost #soap #no means no #me writing #wormwoodartemisia #no smut

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lululandd · 6 months ago

Text

corrupted;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

word count: 1.3k+

warnings: possessive behaviour, angst

note: :) (also on AO3)

summary: the first time he came home with his mask on, you didn’t let him in.

you weren’t even convinced it was simon at first. the man held himself too differently; he stood up too straight, his shoulders too square, there’s too much confidence in his stance as he stared you down.

the mask makes you feel uneasy, it makes it seem like he’s looking down at you with perpetual hostility in his eyes. normally you’d look up, but right now you opt to just glance up at him from time to time. but you do see from the corner of your eyes that he tilts his head at you, his gloved fingers tapping a rhythmic beat on the door jamb.

“it’s me, love.” he assured you in his gruff and gravelly voice, recognising it as the one he reserves for drunks at the pub.

“can you take the mask off then? please?”

he sucked a breath, both his hands now have come up on either side of the door. “just want to shower and go the fuck to bed, love. don’t be difficult.”

you stood your ground, eyeing him coldly. “and how difficult would it be to take the mask off before coming inside?”

his dark eyes bore into yours, brows drawing close together. “christ fuck, woman.” he finally says, bitterness bleeds through his muffled voice as he yanks the thing off his head, “happy?”

no.

finally seeing him, you notice the deepening lines on the corner of his eyes, and the bags underneath it worse than ever before. his lips twitch as if to say something as you open the door wider for him to finally pass you.

simon trudged his boots off by the shoerack before heading upstairs, you hear your shared bathroom door slamming shut as you still stood by the front door. you almost wanted to cry, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. you know simon’s job tires him out, he’s quieter and more reserved the first few days back; but today he gives you no hellos, no instructions to make tea, no offhand comment about the squeaking door that he complains about.

only silence greets you.

“come here.”

you barely turn from your little console, “no you come here.” giggling as you tried to find a safe spot so you could look at him and away from the game.

the bed dips heavily, you were tugged towards a warm chest as an arm snakes tightly around your waist and another slides up your collarbone, his finger absentmindedly tracing patterns on the side of your neck. he leaned his head on yours, pulling you flush against him; your back bumped against his solid chest as he leaves soft kisses on the top of your head.

it’s weirdly….foreign.

simon’s love language had always been physical touch; whether it’s a hand on your shoulder, his feet next to yours, knees touching on a hot day, but at this exact moment you can’t fathom why his touches felt so unfamiliar.

his kisses move downward, more insistent, lips lingering longer than it should. intoxicating but peculiar at the same time.

“stop playing.” he warned, his hand getting worryingly close to squeezing your neck.

his hold had never felt so constricting, as if he fears you’d disappear if he loosens his grip on you. his mouth had found its way to your neck, sucking and biting until he’s had enough and places a large hand on the screen, forcing you to set the thing down.

“i said stop.” he ordered, voice worryingly close to a growl.

leaning further into him, he tightened his embrace on you. seeing you’re no longer distracted, he went back to marking your neck, lapping at the bruising skin.

you sighed into his touches and kisses, fully surrendering in his hold. as he turned your head with a hand on your jaw, you could now see every scar, every freckle, every little imperfection on his face, and it was harder to form thoughts when he’s so close like this. “sim–”

his lips press into yours; harsh and domineering, as he pushed you into the mattress, making you gasp. taking your open mouth as an invitation, his tongue greedily swipes across yours.

the kiss ended as quickly as it started, with simon pulling back and opting to have a go at leaving marks on your neck again. he left a particularly hard suck by your pulse point, making you let out a nervous giggle, “stop, simon. i don’t think i have turtlenecks that high.”

“then let them see.” he breathed hotly against another part of your neck he hasn’t left kisses on. it made you shudder, no one had ever made you feel so desired before.

wrapping your arms around him, you smiled weakly, “i love you, simon. you don’t have to worry about other people.”

hearing you say that made him finally pause his persistent abuse on your skin.

“say it again.”

you couldn’t even look into his eyes, your cheeks burn from the constant attention he’s giving you right now. but even that couldn’t dissuade the little voice in your head that's trying to tell you this isn't right, this doesn’t feel like him; but you said it aloud anyway, “i love you.”

“again,” he breathed, his gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips, “i want to hear you mean it.”

“i love you, simon.”

you could feel his smirk as he peppered kisses on your skin.

“simon you can’t be serious.” you chided him coldly, he has been wearing a face mask at home more often now. this time for a whole week straight. neither of you are even ill.

you could see something ominous and unpleasant underneath his glare as he turned his head towards you. “let me be, love.” he doesn’t even call you by your name anymore, as if he had completely forgotten what it is.

you groaned, “ugh, fine.”

cutting the distance between you in record time, simon seized your wrist and held it up by his face, making you tumble into him. “what–”

“i love you.” he stated.

at this exact moment you thought him insane. you looked up at him, confusion and exasperation clear on your face.

“i'm sorry?” was the only thing you could think to say right now.

never have you thought simon was intimidating until this very moment. his eyebrows furrowed so deeply it made his pupils seem darker than it should. “say it back.”

you have no intention of saying it back.

his grip on your wrist had start to hurt at this point, and trying to wriggle away only made him hold it even tighter. the little yelp of pain you let out didn’t faze him even the slightest.

you only now realised this is not simon. in your mild attempt to break free from his grip you couldn’t help but to acknowledge his growing desire that’s been insistently prodding your front.

alarmed, you couldn’t help but to try and wriggle away harder. his insistent hand on the small of your back doesn’t help with the situation, either.

when he finally lets go of your wrist, opting to hold the back of your neck to hold you closer to him, you had already given up resisting.

at that moment you felt as if you’re something of him to merely possess, and nothing else. tears escaped you, at first a little before cascading fully into sobs and whimpers. you don’t feel the love and warmth simon had, right now his grasp felt stiff and constricting.

“you’re not him, are you?” you hiccuped into his chest.

hearing no answer, you look up to see a man you loved, with a dangerous glint you don’t recognise in his eyes.

“no, you're not,” you answered your own question and his hold breaks. you let out a shuddered breath as you stare blankly at nothing, tears blurring your vision. “is he still in there?”

only silence answers.

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #scuffed writing

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robo-writing · 9 months ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Bi-Han Edition

Pairing: Bi-Han/Reader Authors Note: I look at this man and I can’t decide if I want him to choke me with his biceps or put him on his knees and make him call me mommy 🫠

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Bi-Han becomes extremely tender after sex, almost as if he’s a different person. When it’s just you two, bodies intertwined beneath the sheets, your head resting on his chest as you both slowly catch your breath, he can’t find it in himself to deny your beauty.

Your favorite moments are these, when the room is quiet save for the sound of the night and the rumble in his chest, when nothing matters except for you and Bi-Han. You live for these moments, revel in the way he softly strokes your hair and leaves kisses at your temple, the faintest smile gracing his normally stoic features.

The responsibility of Grandmaster is a tiring one, what you would give to be spoiled like this every day, to wake up and know that your boyfriend is waiting for you each morning, but perhaps that’s selfish to think about. For now, you can rest easy knowing that if nothing else, you can indulge in Bi-Han’s embrace now.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Bi-Han would be a liar if he said the sight of your ass in a nice pair of pants didn’t draw his attention. He sometimes thinks you do it on purpose, the way your hips sway when you walk past, enticing not only him but any man who becomes witness to your antics. It’s a point of pride to know that all they can do is watch and imagine while he is the only one in the world allowed to touch you, but it doesn’t still the jealousy within him when he knows the sight of you is enough to bring the attention of others. Perhaps he’ll teach you a lesson once he’s finished with his duties.

As for himself, it’s his hands. Hands that were trained for battle, hands that were trained to kill, he is very proud of his abilities. Recently his pride has been inflated when you mentioned you like his hands, not for their skill but for their size. Large enough to hold your close, or to press you further into the mattress.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Possibly his most favorite feeling in the world is being able to cum inside you, watch the mess that slides from between your folds and onto the bed in a messy puddle. The sight of you fucked out and delirious, his own seed staining the sheets is enough to drive him mad. More often than not it inspires him to fuck you harder.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He secretly loves that you’re feisty, that you give him a hard time and you’re quick to disagree with him. He grew up as the first born son and because of that he’s been surrounded by those who simply take his words at face value. It’s led to a very boring life, but then you steamrolled through it, stubborn thing that you are; You don’t hesitate to talk back, make it a point of interest to call him out when he’s being an asshole, and in his eyes it only makes him love you even more. He hates the idea of a partner who just listens to him like the other Lin Kuei do, so your attitude is very refreshing.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Bi-Han’s had sex before, but solely for the pleasure of it, not because of any romantic inclination. In his mind he needed to fulfill an urge, and once he had his fill the lady of his choice would leave; a purely transactional exchange.

That being said, he is at the very least grateful for his previous encounters as they allow him to use what he’s learned on you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It depends on his mood that night. If he’s feeling more romantic he’ll take his time with some missionary, letting every last inch of him sink into your needy cunt, his deep groans loud in your ears. Bi-Han has never been one for mindless praise, so when the only thing that leaves his mouth is pure adoration you know in your heart he means every word.

However, if you’ve been acting like a brat? He’s teaching you a lesson, a master of discipline as the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. Face down, ass up, back arched, and it’s going to stay that way until he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson or until your legs give out, to which he’ll drape himself over you and fuck you until it hurts to breathe.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

While he might be more relaxed when it’s just the two of you, he is definitely not making jokes during sex, it’s almost scary how serious he is about your pleasure. He doesn’t understand the need for comedy with such an intimate affair and he might even take offense.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is extremely groomed, from his face to his pubes. He has a regular grooming schedule and it’s a common sight to see him in the bathroom with a razor in hand.

“Bi-Han?” You call out sleepily, unaware of your husband’s whereabouts.

A hum, and a quiet “In here.” Is enough to give you an idea. Your feet slowly paddled across the floor, and in the bathroom you see him slowly going over his face with a razor.

You enjoy the moment for what it is before speaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with facial hair.”

“It is easier to wear a mask without hair in the way,” he says bluntly. You agree with him, but can’t help but tease him a bit more.

“If it matters, I think you’d look good with a beard.”

His hands stop just for a second before moving again, the faintest smile on his lips. “I will keep that in mind.”

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You wouldn’t expect it, but he is surprisingly romantic during the deed. Sex is a private occasion, unlike what happens outside your bedroom Bi-Han allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his emotions run rampant. It often results in a very intimate affair where he can finally express himself to you without any fear of judgement, where he can kiss you to his hearts content and admire your beauty up close without the weight of Grandmaster on his shoulders.

If you told anyone they’d have a hard time believing it, but Grandmaster Bi-Han is secretly a softy, at least where you’re concerned. Even if he seems standoffish in public, you know better.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Before you two were dating he would find himself dreaming of you in various compromising positions to the point that he felt angry at both himself for indulging in those thoughts, and you for occupying them.

There would always be a pang of guilt that ran through him knowing that he just touched himself to the thought of you, but he truly couldn’t help himself—you were just too much of a distraction.

After you two become a couple he’s become far more accepting of his needs, but even so he’d prefer you were there to assist him, so he can wait for a while.

The entire day has been trying, from morning to night Bi-Han hasn’t had a moments peace, not as long as you were around.

He thinks maybe you are a witch, that you’ve casted some kind of spell on him, a vile magic that makes his heart beat faster and his tongue turn to lead. Racing thoughts of you and only you.

Your words, your touch, your body—it’s enough to distract him, and nothing distracts him.

The entire day is trying, so when he falls to the bed and thinks of you again, his hands immediately falls towards his cock to rectify the issue.

He curses his weakness, his shirt sandwiched between his teeth, a feeble attempt to stifle his moans. He curses you in the same breath, you and your haunting figure. Faster and faster does his hand move against his hard cock, until his racing mind is filled with thoughts of you milking him for all he’s worth.

Before he’s awash with pleasure, trembling with satisfaction, the last thing he curses is himself for being too cowardly to admit his desire for you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding: He wants kids, he wants you to know he wants kids, and he wants you to know how good you would look with a belly full of them. Even if you’re not ready for kids or you’re taking birth control it’s not going to stop him from coming inside you, his idea of aftercare is running two fingers between your dripping cunt, stuffing you full of them and kissing your tears away.

“I know you’re sensitive dear, but it’s necessary, we need to make sure not to waste a single drop.”

Brat taming: If you’re a brat, enjoy yourself. He loves your attitude but when you push him too far he won’t hesitate to force you on your knees and remind you exactly who’s in charge in this relationship.

“It would have been easier for you to admit your need,” he groans, his heavy cock slapping against your open mouth, the taste of salt on your tongue. “But you had to make this difficult. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

Marking: he’s more conservative about marks on himself but on you it’s free real estate. His favorite ones are the scratches you leave on his back.

You’ve fallen asleep minutes ago, but Bi-Han is still awake, stretching his back and reveling in the familiar ache that stings his skin. Your nails are sure to leave a mark, a trophy he’ll admire in the mirror when he gets dressed tomorrow.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His bedroom mainly. You’d have to really rile him up to convince him to fuck you in public, and even then it’s a risky affair. He enjoys when you moan for him, but times like this call for stealth, something you lack when you’re being fucked.

His solution for this is gagging you. His fingers get the job done, or he’ll muffle your lips with his own.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You pretending as if you don’t know the effect you have on him, when you brush against him in public, when you bend over just a bit too much to be innocent. The front is amusing, but what’s more amusing is how easily it crumbles apart when you’re put on your knees.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Sharing you with anyone else, you’re his and his only. He also wouldn’t draw blood on you.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Preference in receiving rather than giving, but when his thoughts get too loud and he needs a moment of peace and quiet the first place he’ll settle is between your legs.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough, possessive even—long, deep strokes that punch the air out of your lungs and make you see stars. He wants the world to know who you belong to, which is evident from the amount of hickeys and bruises left on your person after the fact. If you leave some on him he won’t mind, even if he is technically supposed to hide them it’s unsurprising to see the faintest little purple mark peeking out beneath his collar, a not-so-subtle reminder.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t like them, flat out. He knows a quickie is not enough to satisfy his appetite of you, he’d sooner wait until he’s certain neither of you have any prior obligations to devour you as he sees fit.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Surprisingly open to experimentation. It’s almost like training in his mind, a game of figuring out what makes you tick, what makes you see stars and cry out for him. Needless to say he’s very proficient at this game.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

God bless that Lin Kuei training; hours, although he is aware of your own limits and will gladly let you take a break should you need one.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like you would have to own them yourself or you would have to introduce them to him. He might take offense to the idea of having anything that isn’t him bring you pleasure but you showed him the joys of using one and now he’s more open to the idea.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s fucking evil, for such a stoic man you would never expect it but he gets off to seeing you wanting him, needing him. There’s always a plan brewing in that head of his.

Remember when I said you introduced him to the idea of toys in the bedroom? He may or may not force you to sit on a vibrator when you’re being bratty as a form of punishment while he leaves you tied to the bed. Only when he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson will he turn it off, but by then you’re a shaky, sweaty pile of your former self. Be careful what you wish for.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groaner, deep growls in an even deeper tone, you can feel the rumble of him in his chest like an engine. He gets so breathy when he’s close too, it’s a sight to behold.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Secretly wants to be dominated, but will never say it out loud, you’ve got to figure that out yourself. When you finally do don’t expect him to make it easy for you either, he’ll fight you on every command and order until you either tie him down or gag him (He actually enjoys the thrill of the fight, he’s kind of a brat in that way.)

“I never thought the Grandmaster would enjoy being so exposed,” you giggle, admiring how the crimson rope compliments his skin, nearly the same shade as the blush that runs from his face down to his neck.

He tugs at his restraints, once, twice, before groaning at the feeling of your hands around his cock. It’s far too slow for his taste, he needs more and you know it, his head falling back when you squeeze his shaft and watch enamored as pre-cum dribbles down your fingers.

“Damn you,” he says, groaning when you respond with another firm grip. He takes a shuddering breath, cursing your name, and then begging for more in the same breath. All bark and no bite.

“You sure look like you’re enjoying yourself,” you muse, swiping your thumb against his leaking slit. “Look at that, making a mess of yourself.”

There’s a feral edge to the smile on his face, enjoying this little game. “These bonds cannot hold me for long. You know that, don’t you?”

Your eyebrow raises at that. “Course I do. But you’re not going to leave, are you Bi-Han?”

The air is filled with tension, and with his silence you have your answer, your hand moving faster as his hips desperately try to meet your rhythm.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

6.3 inches, circumsized, veiny at the base. My man is THICK, it’s heavy when you hold it in your hands and almost makes you wonder how he can walk straight, and his tip turns a pretty shade of rose when he’s aroused, reaching down to his shaft as if his cock is blushing. That thing should be registered as a weapon.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

If he could he’d have you pressed into the bed all day, but responsibilities come first. He can deceive you with how much self control he has but trust and believe he is almost always ready to go.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not quick at all, he revels in taking his time with you and refuses to sleep until he knows you’re taken care of. It’s a rule of his to watch you and make sure you’re safe before he succumbs himself, he’ll say it’s because of his life as an assassin but in reality he just enjoys seeing your blissful state.

Graphics by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

#robo writes #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #Bi-Han #bi-han x reader #bi-han smut #subzero #subzero x reader #subzero smut #mortal kombat 1 smut

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eustassslut · 3 months ago

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🌈~

Hi c': I saw that your requests were open! I was wondering if it's possible to request a Luffy, Law, Kid, and Zoro(separately)(if you can't add Zoro, that's fine!) with a s/o that's basically deemed a Nobody? They have no devil fruit, no special Haki skills or some super power hidden gift. The most they can do is doodle every now and then and that's it.

The main prompt is basically their "Nobody" s/o doodles their boyfriend(s) in their spare time, and gifts them the drawings c': They know that it may not do much, but their love language is showering them in drawn sketches of them(almost like a little kid aha)

Luffy is the biggest hype-man and supporter of any hobby you might have.

He regularly asks the other Strawhats for advice on what art supplies to buy you with his left over money.

He also keeps every sketch you've ever given him in a special box that he asked Usopp to make him so they're kept dafe. Will ask you to paint on the box so its extra special.

If you ever showed him any new sketches or doodles you've done, he'll beg you to let him keep them as well.

Whenever you draw him, he gets really happy and becomes even more hyper than normal. He'll be desperate shows everyone on the crew the doodles you've made of him.

Wants you to draw him doing literally everything, from going to the toilet and holding a bug to him as a bug and eating meat.

Repeatedly makes you promise you'll draw him reaching Laughtale and becoming King of the Pirates.

Luffy also boasts to everyone who will listen about you and randomly starts up conversations with strangers or his allies about you and your art supplies.

Frames everything...or he tries to before Nami tells him they have no space to store it all.

Carries some of drawings and doodles you've done of him everywhere so he can show off if he has a chance, he'll be fighting an old enemy and will pause to ask if they want to see something cool.

You have a fan in Crocodile now though who is quite invested in your art journey; but you're not sure if that's because of the rumours he's your boyfriend's parent or if it’s because the older man just enjoys art.

But if anyone was to interrupt or insult you by calling you a nobody or implying he deserves better, he'd go completely feral and has to be pulled away by you so he doesn't try to fight them.

Strong believer in earning the right to have dreams and earn a reputation for your skills so he doesn't really care if you're seen as a nobody (he still hates hearing it said to you or him though) because he used to be one as well when he started his journey.

Luffy is nothing but your biggest fan and he hopes everyone will one day see the same value and talent he sees in you.

Law acts like nothing you do effects him and that you don't get under his skin, but it's always obvious upon looking closely at him just how flustered he gets each time you hand him one of your drawings.

Will just say "thank you, it's lovely" or "thank you, you're so talented my love" and give you a kiss before putting it in his desk draw, showing he appreciates it but not on the same scale as Luffy or Kid.

However, you will later find your drawings pinned to his fridge or tucked away in medical textbooks as Law uses them for motivation to work hard so he can impress you in return.

Law struggles a little bit to show love for you, having lost so many loves ones so young but he tries his best to show through his actions that he thinks you're talented and that he really appreciates being given anything you do.

Gets drunk on one occasion and cries to you about how he's scared he'll forget what his family looked like overtime, then cries harder when you ask him to describe them so you can draw them for him.

Keeps the sketches of his family and Corazon on his desk, next to a drawing of you and him since he wants everyone he loves to be together in one place.

Very much a man who uses his actions to prove he loves you and sees your talent. He'll clear out some of his medical books for any books on art he can find and always makes sure he cares a sketchbook and materials for you in case you want to draw.

At the end of the day Law loves you for you, he doesn't care if you have no devil fruit or if you're perceived as a 'nobody'. He probably even prefers that you prefer quietly sitting nearby or on the Polar Tang because it means he always knows you're safe.

He's not like Luffy though and he will not try to fight anyone if they called you one to his face but he would threaten them and reassure you in private that you're not a nobody, instead you're the most important person in his life to him.

The king of insanely loud cringe worthy support and also gift giving back to support your hobby.

When you first show you like to draw, Kid would clear out some space in his workshop so you can have your own studio to quietly draw if need.

He sees quality time together as very important so he wants to quietly sit and do your respective hobbies together; pausing to show each other what you're both doing and exchange compliments.

Will try to copy any doodles you do and make metalwork versions out of them. Definitely makes you a necklace with a metal copy of a doodle you drew of you and him kissing.

Encourages you to paint on his bedroom walls if you want to and also to draw on tables.

Insists you sign all of your sketches and doodles so they're official.

Claims he needs to make sure he has the biggest art collection so that when you become famous he will be extra rich and he can add art collector to his long list of achievements (aka his crimes).

Definitely calls you the worst nicknames you've ever heard in your life, like his gorgeous talented artistic boopsie bear and the ball wrangler of all art. Genuinely means them as compliments to uplift you as well.

Loves giving you excuses to draw so he gives you awful prompts out of the blue and a time limit.

Kid will ask you to draw his crew so he can always have proof they sailed together and keeps those drawings in his bedroom.

Will try to frame everything he can like Luffy would, but he does have limits and eventually just invests in a big set of drawers designed for storing art.

Refuses to steal art supplies because he believes in supporting artists so he makes sure to take you art supply shopping and then leaves tips.

Casually has a very good reputation now in the art world and they all really admire you for winning him over with your art.

But thoughts and prayers for anyone who ever calls you a nobody, they're about to get beaten up almost to the brink of death. It's a bold decision to say anything about you in front of him.

Kid doesn't care if you're seen as weak or powerless and art is seen as the only thing you have going for you. He likes being able to keep you safe and protect you but recognising you're not strong (especially compared to him since he's literally a beast) is very different to seeing you as a nobody.

Zoro is probably such a mess when it comes to supporting your hobby but he's trying his best for you and at the end of the day you know he sees you as the most important person in his life.

I feel like the first time you draw something and give it to him, its a doodle of Chopper and him on a napkin at dinner and when you sheepishly give it to him as a way of showing your affection he'd accidentally use it.

Just so oblivious that he does not realise why everyone at the table is staring at him in horror and you look like you might laugh or cry. Eventually looks down and apologises so much when he notices, claiming the stains on it make it even more special because it adds to value??

Does not understand art at all.

Zoro can tell that you're talented though and recognises your passion so he tries his best to support you with verbal praises and his actions.

However, he's so emotionally constipated its insane; literally does not how to express his affection for you without either being a sassy little bitch or just coming across insane.

Like you could mention you like roses and he'll come back the next time you dock with a full rose bush he's torn out of someone's garden by its roots, but then say you can throw it away if you want. He's just a weird feral man.

He'd probably learn how to make paper so you could have drawing materials (he also has no money so he has to adapt to the obstacles ahead).

Commissions you to draw several new horrific wanted poster versions of Sanji to torment the blonde with. Sanji can't get mad at you though because he thinks you're talented and likes that you get to practise.

Is very similar to Kid and likes when you sit in the lookout nest and quietly draw whilst he trains beside you. He does pose a little because he knows sometimes you like to draw him and he wants you to get his best angles.

Tries to call you talented every time he talks about you or talks to you. Zoro is very verbal about how incredible you are.

Will not tolerate anyone calling you a nobody (he will beat them up if you want him too) and it hurts him the most if you call yourself one because he knows what its like to feel inferior to those stronger.

You don't need to fight anyways since you have him but if you want to learn he'll teach you in exchange for more horrific Sanji doodles.

Your talent is more then enough to eventually earn a reputation anyways so who cares if you can't fight or you're weaker.

King of pep talks and reminds you constantly you don't have to be strong to be important, you just need to believe in yourself.

No matter what he's always in your corner and supports you in his own silly weird ways.

buy me a coffee | ao3 | tiktok

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qu1cks1lversb1tch · 4 months ago

Text

☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆

Week Two: Lucifer

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Smut Essentially, Fem Reader, heavily implied sub Lucifer, public — kinda(?), barely functional author

Word Count: 491

“We have to be quiet, Luci.” You whispered in his ear, breathlessly as he stretched you open with every inch.

His lips were pressed tightly together, trying not to make any loud noise. It was hard. You felt so good around him. . . But he had to be quiet, otherwise risk everyone outside the limousine hearing just how desperate and needy the King of Hell sounded balls deep in your heavenly pussy.

Slowly, you began moving.

Drawing the low, whiny moans from Lucifer became your favorite thing.

He threw his head back against the leather seat and attempted to shamelessly thrust up into you, but it was no use.

Between you clenching around him and the sound of your soft, breathy moans meeting his ears, he was quickly reaching his climax.

“Please —” he whimpered finally.

You kissed his lips sweetly, watching the sinners walk by, oblivious to what was happening. “Just a few more minutes, Luci, you can do it, baby. Don't cum yet.”

He shivered as your words became engraved in his mind. Hold on. Hold on.

It was growing harder by the second.

His eyes rolled back into his head, unable to form any coherent thought, and soon he buried his face in your chest — it didn't help his case a bit.

You rolled your hips flawlessly, causing him to bite his bottom lip as he felt that all too familiar feeling.

He was so close.

But so were you.

“Please — I'm gonna; I have —”

His cock twitching inside you was the sign you needed, telling him it was okay to cum. . . He managed to get in a couple thrusts of his own before he groaned, painting your insides with the translucent bodily fluid.

“You're doing so good for me, Luci. . .” You moaned, pressing kisses to his jawline as you felt your own coil build up slowly.

The closer you got to reaching the tipping point, the more sloppy your movements got until you finally came undone on him with a high pitched moan, muffled by his shoulder.

The two of you stayed together for a few minutes, coming down from the high. It had been a spontaneous decision.

“So good.” You whispered.

You soon removed yourself from his lap and began cleaning up the mess you both made, knowing the others would be out of the movies soon.

Thanks to a little magic, the smell of your extracurricular activities left the limousine and the two of you were mostly back to normal by the time Charlie, Angel, and Vaggie returned.

You hadn't been able to find your lacy red panties at the end, despite looking for them everywhere . . Though you did notice the familiar shade of fabric sticking out of his pocket before he pushed it in the rest of the way.

You'd let him have that as a trophy of sorts, just this one time. . . There's a reason why you have his contact name as ‘Hell's Greatest Dick’.

Y'all I can't explain it but this man is so breedable. Let me get you pregnant, King 💖

Have my babies. Mwah 💋

#☆ Silver's Sinful Sunday ☆#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer hazbin hotel #x reader #fem reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar headcanons #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x female reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer headcanons #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar smut #hazbin hotel smut #smut

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sidekick-hero · 8 months ago

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(steddie | explicit | 11.7k | tags: pwp, friends to lovers, brief Steve/other, mutual pining, summary: Steve asks Eddie for help in fulfilling one of his fantasies. Eddie has no idea that he is the actual star of this fantasy | AO3)

“I have no idea where you get your weed but damn, this shit hits so much harder than the stuff I usually manage to score," Steve says, face pinched as he blows out the smoke, the pungent smell of it filling the small room, before handing it back to Eddie. They're sitting side by side on the bed, both holding beers, bodies already going lax against the mattress.

"You know I don't kiss and tell."

Steve snorts a laugh. "Since when? Just last week you got lost on a ten minute spiel about that guy giving you head during your lunch break dude."

Eddie’s eyes cut a sideways glance at Steve, lips already curling in a shiteating grin. “Yeah but we didn’t kiss, so my point still stands,” Eddie retorts, wiggling his eyebrows at Steve and they both burst out into high laughter. Steve's body tilts sideways into Eddie's, and instead of pushing him away, Eddie just adjusts his own position so they're leaning against each other more comfortably.

When their laughter subsides neither of them moves away, bodies too heavy with the weed and booze in their system. They’ve been friends for years and have found themselves in much more compromising positions. Friendly cuddling while high doesn’t even make the top ten, Eddie thinks lazily.

“So, anyone interesting happening since Lunch Break Guy?”

“I’m pretty sure his name was Matt. Or Mark? Something like that. And nah, had to help Wayne clean out my old room last weekend, remember? I’m still recovering from hauling boxes all day.”

“Awww did you haul them with your dick? Poor delicate flower.” Steve giggles at his own joke, petting at Eddie with the hand not holding the beer, movements already sluggish and uncoordinated. Steve is such a lightweight and Eddie wonders why he finds that so endearing.

“Asshole,” Eddie chuckles, swatting Steve’s hand away. “At least I didn’t hook up with a guy dressed up as Frankenstein."

"It was Halloween, Eddie." He can’t see his face but Eddie hears the eyeroll in Steve’s voice.

"Did you compare your freaking monster dicks?"

"You know we didn’t, you were the one walking in on us to make that exact same joke,” Steve snorts and Eddie feels it against the skin of his neck.

Once again, Eddie wonders if it's weird that they're so close. He knows Steve doesn't tell Robin half the shit he does when he's getting his rocks off, and they're platonic soul mates. He didn't tell Chrissy about Matt's? Mark's? tongue piercing, or how he swallowed about half of Eddie's load before he started coughing and got the rest all over their clothes, so Eddie had to call Steve to get him a change of clothes because he couldn't work in cum-stained jeans. And he's pretty sure that normal friends don't make out with each other when they get drunk or high either. But, like, whatever. Who needs normal when you can have Steve leaning on you like that, smelling of his expensive shampoo and weed.

Taking another hit from the blunt, Eddie holds the smoke in for a long moment, and just as he's about to blow it out, he feels Steve's hand on his jaw, turning his head down toward his open mouth, as if he'd been waiting for this very moment. So Eddie slots their mouths together and gives Steve what he wants, as he always does. Because it's Steve, and Eddie doesn't know how not to.

After they have both exhaled the smoke, Eddie gives Steve the blunt to put in the ashtray. Steve does so, but not before taking one last hit. It's their second joint of the night and they both feel it.

“What about you, Mr. Charming? Any new adventures I haven’t heard about?”

"I went to the Babylon the other day."

"Oh," Eddie says, drawing out the syllable as he looks down at Steve in surprise. "That's the one with a darkroom that has, like, another room behind it for the really kinky stuff, right?"

Steve laughs awkwardly, avoiding Eddie's eyes. "Yeah, that one, although I think that's a hoax."

"And how do you know that?" Eddie asks, before gasping dramatically, his hand pressed to his chest in mock indignation. "Steven! Did you go in the dark room?"

Instead of a snarky comeback, all Eddie gets is an almost timid nod.

Huh.

Steve almost never gets shy, didn't even blush when he walked in on Eddie eating out the bartender in their room when they went on vacation together last year. Simply told him to hurry up because he was tired before he went back outside.

Not in the least bothered by Steve's weird behavior, Eddie pokes Steve in his rips and asks excitedly, "How was it? Tell me everything."

He can feel Steve fidgeting where he's still pressed into Eddie’s body and he takes another sip of his beer before finally looking up at Eddie.

Steve's eyes are glassy from the weed, the white tinged with red and so dark they look bottomless, like Eddie could actually fall into them, lost forever. Fuck, Steve's right, the shit Rick sold him really hits hard.

"It was good. Like, really fucking good, y'know. Intense and, I dunno, a bit awkward at first, but then it was... yeah, just really good."

Eddie feels that Steve is not telling him something here. They may be high and buzzed, but that was a lot of good in Eddie's opinion. And Steve is still fidgeting.

"Sounds...good. You picked someone up at the club to fuck there?"

"Not...really."

As it turns out, Steve went in there alone, but he wasn't alone for long. Eddie listens with bated breath as Steve goes into more and more detail about dancing and drinking at the bar, about seeing people disappear behind a thick velvet curtain only to emerge long minutes later looking disheveled and satisfied. He tells Eddie about strolling over there himself, just to check it out so he could tell Eddie about it later, and about being surrounded by strangers, too dark to make out anything but the sounds of skin slapping against skin, ragged breathing, moans and whimpers filling the thick and humid air.

Eddie feels himself getting more and more turned on the longer he listens to Steve's low voice talking about lingering hands and mouths touching him everywhere, strangers grinding against him before he inevitably moved on. Eddie's already half hard, and when he looks down into Steve's lap, he sees the thick, hard outline of his cock in his sweatpants.

It's not as embarrassing as it should be. Steve has always been hot, Eddie has two functioning eyes and an active libido. It wouldn't be the first time he jerked off thinking about Steve, not even the first time Steve was present if asleep, but they never went further than a few heated make out sessions, sloppy kisses and some grinding before remembering their friendship and breaking apart.

Not that Eddie wouldn't drop everything and be on him in seconds if Steve asked, but that’s neither here nor there.

"And then this guy just grabbed me, he was strong and I wasn't expecting it, and then my face was pressed against the wall and he was on my back, rubbing against me, his dick thrusting against my ass, and -" Steve takes a deep breath and Eddie, realizing that he has been holding his breath all along, follows suit.

"And?" Eddie asks when the silence stretches.

Another deep inhale before Steve goes on. "And it was really hot, like, I've never been so hard in my life. I wanted him to, y'know, use me, just, uh, pull my jeans down and fuck me without me being able to do anything. Just… Making me take it, getting off fucking me and then walking away like I’m just some, I dunno, toy with his cum dripping out of me."

Eddie was biting his lip so hard he was sure he'd taste blood any second, but it was the only way he could hold back the moan that was trying to crawl out of his mouth. His dick had gone from half hard to so hard it almost hurt, and he was seconds away from pushing down his own sweats and jerking off to the way Steve talked about being used.

"But then, I don't know, my brain, like, panicked, and I pushed him off, and ran out of the room before I even knew I was going to do it."

Steve is decidedly not looking at Eddie, which is good, because Eddie has no idea what his face must look like right now. Probably as destroyed as he feels. He's pretty sure Steve has seen the way his sweats are tenting by now, but considering how obscenely Steve's dick is stretching the fabric of his own pants, Eddie thinks Steve doesn't have a leg to stand on. Eddie also felt the way Steve's hips squirmed as he recounted the way those strangers in the darkroom had touched him.

The silence between them grows and grows, sitting heavy on his chest, so Eddie clears his throat and asks, "So - was it, I mean," he exhales loudly, "did you, uh, like it?" Steve looks up at him, surprised by the question, and Eddie clarifies, "I mean before you panicked and ran out. Everything before that."

Chewing on his lower lip, Steve considers his questions and the air between them is so thick that Eddie feels like he's drowning. He swallows and watches, transfixed, as Steve's Adam's apple also bobs, a bead of sweat sliding past it as it moves.

"I mean, yeah. I did. It was hot, man, like I said. Especially the... the way they were just touching me, taking what they wanted. I didn't even know that I, uh, wanted that?” It isn’t often that Steve sounds unsure, at least when it comes to sex and hookups. So when Eddie hears his voice waver like that, like Steve is embarrassed to want something, his instincts to comfort and help start screaming at him.

Before he can do anything about it, like pull Steve against him and tell him it’s okay, Steve keeps going. “But it was too much… Too, I dunno, surprising? Like, I really wanna do that again, but like, with some precaution. So it feels safe and I can, uh, let go or something. Not panic again because that sucked man.”

Steve finishes his beer and drops the empty bottle on the floor next to Eddie's bed. Usually he would bitch about it, just because it's what he always does, but tonight is not like most of their ‘boys’ nights’, as Robin calls them mockingly. Eddie is a little lost and a lot turned on right now and he thinks it would be best for him if their conversation ended here.

If only it was that easy when you have the impulse control of a toddler and can’t leave things very well alone.

"But you fucked strangers before. Like two weeks ago I watched you pick up some random guy to fuck in your car before coming back in for another beer. I helped you get out the cum stains the next day, too."

"I know, I know. It's not that. It's - you remember Clive?"

"Ugh, that asshole." Eddie says with feeling.

Steve chuckles against Eddie's neck and moves even closer, soothing Eddie's annoyance with the contact. God, but he hated that guy who had treated Steve like shit. He had been mean and condescending, and Steve had always looked subdued, almost small, in the days after their hookups.

"Yeah, that one. You hate him, he was a dick, I know. But he, well. He fucked me like this once, pinned me down on the bed, caged me in, ass up, face pressed into the pillow so I could barely breathe, and pounded me so hard I was covered in bruises the next day. Said some nasty shit too, man, and I felt so dirty but also so fucking turned on that I came without a hand on me.”

Steve squirms and fidgets next to him, his body moving against Eddie's in small increments, and Eddie thinks Steve doesn't even realize he's doing it, lost in his memories and the typical weed horniness. "I want this, but, y'know, like, with more."

Eddie actually chokes on his spit at that, stammering, "More?"

"Yeah," Steve says, pushing his face into Eddie's neck like that's the last straw, the thing that's too embarrassing to say out loud. "Like, when I think about it, I'm completely helpless. Hands tied, legs spread with a bar so I couldn't close them even if I wanted to.”

Eddie can't help it, he's got to do something or he'll actually die of Steve-induced sexual frustration. He shifts slightly on his right side, towards Steve, so that he can push his left leg over his right, pressing it down enough to relieve at least some of the pressure. Still, the sensation of any kind of friction against his aching dick makes him clench his hands into fists, his whole body tense.

His next words sound strained to his own ears. "So why not... do it with someone else? I mean, I've seen you at clubs and parties, Stevie, you'd have no problem finding someone willing to do, uh, that."

"True. But it doesn't feel safe. What if, y'know, the guy is, like, a serial killer or something? I've watched enough crime shows with you to know that happens!"

Eddie doesn't say anything, just takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Because seriously, Steve is right, it's super fucking risky and if he's honest, he doesn't want to think about Steve in that kind of danger. He'd go crazy worrying about him.

They're both silent and Eddie's thoughts are racing, the mellowness that usually comes with getting high gone. Replaced by more and more images of Steve flashing behind his eyelids.

Steve on a bed, Steve bent over a table, Steve on some faceless guy. Hands and mouths and teeth all over Steve’s body, his beautiful hazel eyes wide and wet, his face slack with pleasure. His gorgeous dick dripping with need.

Steve, Steve, Steve.

"Can you be there?"

His thoughts come to a screeching halt as his eyes widen in shock. What?

"What?"

"Well, no one would try anything if someone was looking out for me. Also, I could let go knowing you're there. I know you'll keep me safe."

Which, yeah. Eddie would. He would always make sure Steve was safe. It's himself, his heart, that he doesn't trust to be safe when he's there.

"What are you saying here, Steve?"

"I dunno, just that when I think about it. Think about being naked and tied to a bed, all helpless and shit, and there is some guy fucking me however he wants. Use me however he wants… I just. I want that, been thinking about it so much since that night at the Babylon. And you're always..." Steve's hand clenches and unclenches against Eddie's arm. "I want you there. To watch out for me. Make sure I'm still safe, that he doesn't really hurt me. Like, y'know, a safety blanket."

Jesus fucking Christ. He'll never let Steve near his weed again. Not if it ends with Steve tucked into his side, that familiar heat spreading from all the places their bodies touch, both hard in their sweatpants, while Steve talks about Eddie being his goddamn safety blanket while he gets railed by a stranger.

Still, Steve so rarely asks for anything that Eddie wants to do this for him, as fucked up as it sounds. He’s always been a freak and it seems Steve’s right there with him.

Before Eddie can make up his mind, however, Steve lifts his head and chuckles in a way that sounds forced. "Sorry, never mind, it's the weed talking, just forget it."

With that, he untangles himself from Eddie and stands up, his hard dick very obviously tenting his sweats as he turns away from the bed and towards the door. "I'm gonna get another beer, you want one?"

Looking at Steve's back and the tense line of his shoulders, Eddie says, "Yeah, sure.”

Read the rest on AO3

#steddie #steddie smut #steddie fic #eddie x steve #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #nsft

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hanichani · 1 year ago

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Pairing: chan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, idol!au

Summary: you and chan are amazing friends but…is that really all you are?

Warnings: none!

Word count: 821

there was a thin line between friendship and love. you and chan would know. what you didn’t know though was on which side of the line you were currently on…

chan’s hand was draped over your torso and his short breaths were tickling the skin on your neck. he looked pretty all the time, that’s a given but there was just something about him when he was asleep. he looked so unbothered, so peaceful and relaxed. that’s why you loved falling asleep next to him. to see him look so content. to see him finally not stress over the smallest things because surprise surprise, chan is a workaholic and a perfectionist. that’s how any good friend would feel about sharing a bed with their other good friend, right?

you also loved that his attention was always only on you and nothing else in those rare mornings after you’d sleep over and that’s why seeing him stir up made your stomach feel all warm and mushy. friends definitely feel this way about other friends.

suddenly his sleepy eyes looked up at you with a bright smile shining on his face. oh you were down bad (as a friend would be for another friend, of course).

"good morning.” he said as he snuggled deeper into the crook of your neck.

“morning channie, how’d you sleep?” you asked, your hand subconsciously moving to draw shapes on his bare back which made him hum against your skin.

“mm, good. always good when you’re here.” that’s surely something a friend would say, yup.

the smile on your face gave everything away and your other hand moved to his hair, earning another content groan from the man you loved (as a friend, obviously).

“that’s-“ your sentence was interrupted by chan’s alarm. he unwillingly untangled himself from you and reached for his phone, turning the alarm off.

“how is it already time to get up.” he sat up, rubbing his palms over his sleep laced face.

you were too busy staring at his defined back to notice his face turning to you. his chuckle brought you back into reality.

“you’ve got a bit of drool there, y/n.” he pointed to his lips while simultaneously laughing harder.

you frowned and draped yourself over his shoulders while his laugh still rang through the room. “oh shut up mr. I always sleep good when you’re here.” your impression of his voice only made him laugh more and pull you closer to him by your arms.

“hey, I was just stating facts.” he says, turning his head to look at you.

“yea and I was just admiring, you’re pretty much asking for it at this point. sleeping all naked next to me and stuff.” you retort while meeting his gaze.

your faces are only inches away and if you weren’t friends which you are, it would only take a slight movement from you to kiss him.

“oh, don’t act like you don’t love it” he says, his eyes briefly going to your lips and moving back up just as fast.

you let go of him and fall back into the bed, your back hitting the soft cushions. you stick out your tongue and give him a silly face as a response. he only smiles at you and then he proceeds to do the most cruel thing he could do to you in the moment. he gets up from the bed.

your hands automatically reach out for him but to no avail. he’s already marching to the bathroom with a small “I should really get ready now.”

when he comes back half an hour later, you’re scrolling on your phone, still in bed. his now clothed form leans over you so you’re face to face again. you throw your phone somewhere on the bed and your hands move into his curls, while each of his find their place on either side of your head.

“i have to go now.” he says, brushing his nose against yours. eskimo kisses are normal between friends after all, right?

“can we meet up tonight?” you whine quietly in response.

“i’ll see when I’m finished at the studio but after that we could?” one of his hands brushes a strand of your hair out of your face.

“yea okay.” you smile up at him.

and then he kisses you. no matter how surprised you are, you kiss him back, of course but just as quickly as his lips landed on yours, they pull away.

“i’ll see you tonight then.” he smiles and places another peck on your lips.

when he closes the door behind him, you realize what just happened. he just kissed you like it was the most mundane thing ever. sure you were close. you were really close but you were still just friends. maybe friends just kiss sometimes? he did it so carelessly, it has to be normal. it’s what really good friends do, right?

a/n: hellooo, i’m pretty new to posting my little drabbles and works soo any feedback is welcome!!!

#chan fluff #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan drabbles #skz drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x y/n #chan x y/n #bangchan x reader #bang chan x y/n #chan x you #bang chan fluff

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laremsworld · 7 months ago

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Bridgerton-Men and their kinks

1. Benedict Bridgerton: Edging

Warning: nsfw, minord please dni

We all know the scene in the book where Benedict takes Sophie‘s innocence and then almost comes before her, right?

Well, shortly after their wedding, this really happens. Sophie ist just a few more strokes away from coming as well, but her husband suddenly stills.

„Fuck“, Benedict curses, not even able to look at his wife. This never happened to him, not even with any of these girls that never mattered, how could it happen with the love of his life? Sophie ensures him that it‘s okay, but of course it‘s not.

He makes up for it of course. Before his wife can even finish saying „it‘s okay“, his face is already down between her legs, his fingers drawing knowing circles around her sensitive bud. But Sophie, already being taken back from the edge of relief, is not able to cum as fast as Benedict would‘ve guessed. She‘s sensitive and yet what seems like miles away from her orgasm. After some time the second born bridgerton can feel himsel hardening again, so he thinks it‘s a good idea to let go of Sophie and find his way back inside her again. It is when Sophie lets out an animalistic growl, when he realizes he might‘ve done something wrong. He takes a second to look at his wife and the sight of her makes him literally almist come again. Sophie Bridgerton looks like she just lost all her brain cells and seems to not being even able to form a simple sentence. „Please“, she pleads, „please.“

Benedict gives her his famous crooked smile, as he starts an unapolategic pace. Sophie is now a whining mess and - oh God - Benedict never thought he‘d enjoy the tears running down her cheeks, but knowing it‘s from pleasure is making HIM going feral this time.

„Please what, huh?“, he asks, pounding in her faster and harder he ever did, „you want me to continue, darling? Want me to make you feel as good as you made me feel today?“

„Please“, Sophie cries.

„Or“, he asks, not chancing his pace, „am I hurting you? Does my darling wife want me to please stop?“

Sophie tries to say something, anything, but in that moment her husband reaches that very spot, that makes her loose her mind.

Benedict can feel that his wife is close. He can feel her walls tightening around him, and just when Sophie‘s eyes start Rolling back and her hips arch to meet his movements - he pulls out.

„Ben!“, Sophie cries of desperation, literally starting to cry out of frustation now.

Benedict doesn’t respond. He turns his wife around, so that she‘s on all her fours, then he fastly crawls behind her and pushes back inside before Sophie can process what‘s happening.

Benedict had never ushered any thoughts about the mirror next to the wardrobe they share, but in this position - facing the opposite direction then normally while love making, he can watch himself fuck his wife from behind - how did he never thought of using the mirror before?

Watching his wife loosing sanity while pleasuring her from behind is going to be his new favourite view for sure.

Sophie would‘ve normally enjoyed this view too, of course, but at this point she can barely stay on her arms and knees. Her head is rested on the bed, while every push of Benedict let‘s her moan.

Benedict suddenly grabs her by her neck and forces her to face the mirror.

„Look at you“, he praises, his voice raspy from the second orgasm building inside him.

„Please“, Sophie whispers one last time.

Benedict has started kissing and biting her neck, while his hands keep her steady.

„Look what fauxpax of mine has made of you“, he chuckles, his lips merely away from her skin, „drunk without a single drop of alcohol… senseless and helpless… in need of me to free you from your desperation…“

Sophie watches his hand trail lower and lower. She holds her breath, waiting for him to grant her the release she craves so much.

Then, finally, his finger meets her most sensitive bud - and she‘s gone. Everything turns dark and she screams so loud Benedict is sure the neighbours will have heard it. He

holds her for a few more pushes, just until he cums inside her a second time - with a louder growl than normally, but he honestly doesn’t think Sophie notices.

He carefully turns her around, so that he can fall back to the pillow and take her in an embrace with him. None of them speaks for a while - Sophie needs some time to regain her breath.

„I always thought the more orgasms I squeeze out of you, the better. But maybe it‘s not about quantity, but the quality that matters, huh?“ he chuckles.

From this day on, Benedict occasionally made sure to cum before his wife.

Okay, this was going to be a small Dribble with all men and their kinks explained briefly but then this happened 🤣 Do you want me to make ones with the other brothers and brothers-in-law?

#bridgerton #benophie #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #kanthony #bridgerton au #polin bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfic #benedict bridgerton smut

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vhyunjinverse · 2 years ago

Text

My Remedy

m!reader x spencer reid (18+)(fluff)(angst sorta but happy ending)

summary: Spencer’s had a rough day at work, and you do your best to make him feel better

warnings: soft dom!reader, sub!spencer, subspace, sir kink, praise kink, milking

“Spence..? Baby..talk to me. Can you hear me?”

“M..Mhm.”

“Sweetheart..i need a clear answer. Let’s stop right here-“

“No- It’s..it’s okay.. keep going.”

His breath hitched as you kissed up his trembling thighs lovingly. Your fingers slipped deeper into your lover’s hole while you watched his glossy eyes, and the faded tear marks on his cheeks. He moaned softly..your name slipping beautifully off his tongue.

Spencer had a bad day at work that day. The way he came into your shared apartment and immediately went to the bedroom without your normal kiss was the first alarm. Secondly, it was the shower water running afterwards. You always showered with Spencer when he got off of work- no matter if you’d taken one already or not. You enjoyed the space you both shared (and washing his hair was a fever dream). You ordered his favorite too, indian food. Hell- you’d starve yourself until he got home and don’t have an issue with it, as long as it was time spent together.

“..Spence?” You frown as you call out to him. You made your way down the hall to your shared bedroom, making your way to the bathroom door. You knock twice before you heard it, faint, but as you leaned your ear against the door you heard him sniffling. “Baby..?” you speak softly, “Are you okay?” He sniffled once more, a faint “no” could be heard.

“..May I come in?” the shower water turns off, and you hear Spencer mutter, “yes..”

You open the door to find your lover sitting on the edge of the tub, looking down at his lap. “What’s wrong baby?” you ask him, taking a seat down on the floor by his long legs. you lean your head on his thigh, smiling softly when he starts to touch your hair.

“Bad day at work.” he sighs.

“We’ve all had those.” you chuckle. his hands pull gently at the strands.

“..it’s just..it was overwhelming. one case after the other i don’t sleep. i think my mental stability just collapsed, i couldn’t proceed with work and came home.” the thoughts made you frown while Spencer shuddered. “i’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Sweetheart ..it’s okay. How about this: i draw you a nice warm bath, and get the food heated up and then we can head on to bed hm? no boring late night shows, just us in bed.” You stand up and grab his hand, which he gladly accepted. You kept his hand as you turned on the tub water, looking underneath the bathroom sink for his little aftercare basket you had.

“..Baby?” Spencer’s voice filled your ears. You look back at the red figure and raise a brow, “Yes sweetheart?”

“Tonight can we..”

And so it started, Spencer on his back while you fingered his already gaping hole. You watched intensely at the way he tried his best to stay still. Helplessly stroking his little cock, you prod your fingers at his prostate, pressing against it gently.

“feels s’ good..” he moaned, back arching just the slightest. “that’s good baby,” you cooed, biting your lip as you sped up, “i want you to feel good.”

“i wanna- i wanna cum..” Spencer’s bottom starts to twitch, that pool building in his stomach for the third time tonight, “..please sir” he begged, shutting his eyes tightly. your fingers brushed against his prostate once more and he shudders. he felt like jelly against your body. You were so hard.. but this was about making Spencer feel his absolute best.

“fuck fuck fuck-“ he choked out a groan, body twitching even harder, still, you gripped his little cock in your hand and jerked his off faster, thumb shielding his tip. “s..sir please..” he whimpered, rutting against your hand.

“be still baby. you’re doing very good for me, so good” you loom over him and smile softly, leaning down to kiss his nose. Spencer began to spew nonsense as his whole body shook, tears leaking from his eyes once more. “c..can’t hold it” he breathes deeply.

you let up, hands and all. you sit back and watch his cock shoot it’s strings. all over Spencer’s tummy. “sir…s-“ he cried out, thrusting into the air as he kept cumming. you enjoyed milking Spencer, you knew he loved it as well.

Once he calmed down, his body stilled, and you watched it relax.

“Spence…? Baby?” you murmur, grabbing a wash rag to clean his body with. You made sure to grab the aftercare basket with you from the bathroom.

“mm..” he breathed shakily. as you clean his body you notice he’s staring up at the ceiling, eyes clouded and hazy.

“Sweetheart- focus on my voice okay?”

“..mhm” he moans. you touch his body gently. washing him off and kissing each little spot. “come back to me hm? you have food to eat i know you’re hungry.” chuckling softly you kiss his forehead.

“I love you sweetheart.” you say once more

#spencer reid x male reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg x reader #mgg #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x reader #angst #spencer reid angst #male reader #spencer reid x y/n #sub spencer reid #dom reader #soft dom reader #soft dom #fluff #aftercare

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cha-melodius · 6 months ago

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For the snippet game: 💚 (magic kiss) for FirstPrince

Also can't wait to read the next chapter of the spy-soulmate au. You're a genius. What an au!

(I already did one magic kiss that you can find here, so here's a bit of a different version. thank you so much for your kind words, I hope you enjoy this little fairytale! read all the kiss ficlets)

Alex stumbles toward the edge of the lake, toward the rushes that gather there and the glimmering water beyond. He knows he’s dying, that’s not in question, but the animal instincts in his brain refuse to give up. He’s just so thirsty, and maybe if he gets a swallow of water, he’ll be able to gather enough strength to get to the village healer. Who will absolutely not be able to do anything for the wound currently stretching across his abdomen.

He’s so delirious, he doesn’t even realize who’s lake he’s approaching until he’s slumping to the soft, damp ground on the shore. His knees press into the mud as he shakily draws the clear water to his mouth over and over again, though it makes no difference to his thirst.

“Alex?” comes a familiar, musical voice. One that’s filled his ears and his dreams since he was a small child who ignored his family’s warnings not to go near the lake. He looks up into blue eyes as deep and clear as the lake itself, now wide and filled with fear as they take in Alex’s state. Henry comes closer and reaches out, pressing a hand to Alex’s wound. When he pulls it back, the bright red blood stands out starkly against skin so pale it’s almost translucent. “What happened?”

“Bandits,” Alex coughs. Normally, he’d be able to handle himself, but not when it’s ten against one. “I was coming home from the market and they got the drop on me.”

“Oh, darling,” Henry murmurs as he presses a gentle hand to Alex’s cheek. His long blond hair hangs wet over his shoulders and spreads into the lake, where it mingles with Alex’s blood in the water.

“Don’t suppose you can do anything?” Alex ventures, though he knows it’s a long shot. He shudders, curling in on himself. “‘M so cold.”

Henry bites his full, pink lip, a furrow appearing between his brows. “I could save your life in exchange for a kiss.”

Alex may have struck up an unexpected friendship with a water spirit, but that doesn’t mean he’s ignorant to their dangers. He smiles a little. “What’s the catch?”

“You’ll belong to me,” Henry says softly. “Forever.”

“Is that all?” Alex replies with a harsh, wet laugh. “Kiss me, sweetheart.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” Henry protests.

“I understand well enough.” Alex summons what’s left of his strength and reaches out for Henry, though he can’t manage to pull him any closer. His thumb presses to the inside of Henry’s wrist, but the only pulse that thrums there is his own, steadily weakening. “I already belong to you. Forever. Just kiss me. Please.”

Henry’s lips part as he stares at Alex in shocked disbelief, but then he’s moving, pulling Alex into the lake. The frigid water knocks the remaining air from Alex’s lungs and he has to fight against the survival instincts that tell him to fight Henry’s grasp, but Henry’s not dragging him down to drown him like all the stories warn. Henry’s holding him close to keep him safe, and when their lips finally meet, Alex feels warmth flood back into his body despite the coolness of Henry’s skin against his.

Alex chases his lips when Henry tries to pull away, kisses him longer and harder like he’s wanted to for so long, not because of Henry’s beauty but also his intelligence and his humor and his heart. Because Alex loves him, and has since the first day he met a young Henry by the lake, though it took him a while to realize it. For a moment Henry just lets himself be kissed, but then something seems to snap and he’s kissing Alex back just as fiercely, and the warmth grows between them until Alex realizes it’s not just him that’s warm—Henry is, too.

That finally makes Alex pull out of the kiss, frowning at the water spirit. “Henry, what…?”

In answer, Henry grabs his wrist and presses Alex’s palm over his chest to feel the steady thud of a heartbeat that wasn’t there before.

“Magic is tricky,” he says with a little, cautious smile. “I belong to you too, love.”

#rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #kiss ficlets #henry is not really a specific kind of monster here but the vibes are loosely based on a rusalka #longest one yet at 700 words lmao

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dustykneed · 11 months ago

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for context: star trek into darkness (specifically, my take on the implications of bones doing what he had to do and the emotional fallout of those missing scenes) (not that ive seen it!! but ive read enough fic to know the gist of it LMAO) (can you believe this started as an impulse draw to see if i could use pastels to convey heavy emotions and now im writing a very very long headcanon in my notes app.)

...

Leonard goes and he plays god, and injects Jim with that godforsaken blood, and then there is nothing left to do but wait.

He sinks into the chair at his desk, and steeples his fingers together. It occurs to him that these circumstances are the sort that would drive any religious man to bow his head and clasp his hands together, like so, and pray.

--but he is a doctor, and he has never been religious, and he has a duty to do, and he has broken his oath, and there is blood on his hands and flecking his shirt.

Leonard sits very still at his desk and weeps, and he does not pray.

...

sorry to all of y'all who had to find out i was an angst goblin this way <///3 but basically the hc/rough fic is an extension of the angst potential of that one scene where jim wakes up and fixates on spock (and his lack of response towards bones is never addressed afterwards i think? not sure but it's an interesting premise imo)

brief summary: bones never gets closure from jim after he wakes up because jim and spock get together immediately after and it just slips their minds, so bones is stuck in "oh god jim's dying" mode and feels absolutely terrible, but the bridge crew helps a bit by being there for him to hang out with, but still bones does overwork while trying to work through the sense of wrongness of not being able to have his emotional needs met after the whole jim dying fiasco and feeling like his best friend has forgotten him. he admittedly makes good progress (by which i mean he's able to take really big overwhelming feelings and put them away well enough in his daily life to function relatively normally) but the crushing grief is always in the background. about a month or so after spirk gets together, spock accidentally brushes bones' arm and is absolutely slammed by a wave of unexpected exhaustion and emotional pain and is like ??????!!!????????? long story short he drags bones to jim and bones cries for the first time since jim "died" and it is immensely cathartic and then jim blurts out a confession because he has horrible timing and asks bones to join him and spock and obviously bones cries harder and spock is about to smack jim upside the head lmao (bones says its way too much to process and he needs time but hes not exactly opposed, and they all start spending more time together, and then eventually bones is like fuck it and asks for a kiss and they finally get together !!!!!!)

as a treat for reading all of my mildly insane word vomit y'all get a soft bittersweet aos mcspirk scribble<33

gotta love aos jim's majestic eyebrows and aos spock's general sort of >:[ expression!! really growin on me tbh

#star trek #star trek aos #star trek fanart #star trek into darkness #mcspirk #aos #leonard mccoy #bones mccoy #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #jim kirk #spirk #dust trek hcs #dust hcs #im going very steadily insane #also thank you guys so much for all the sweet tags and comments on my scribbles and hcs!! i appreciate all of them so very much and #i have a low social battery but just wanted to say i love yall sm!! and i will continue to go insane and make things for yall as thanks<333

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saywhatjessie · 17 days ago

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We Should Just Kiss Like Real People Do

Advent Calendar Day 6! (prompts by @raven-cincaide-words) Today’s prompts: Picking a Mistletoe | Secret Relationship | Jealousy Fandom: D20: Misfits and Magic - Pairing: SamEvan 1.5k[Ao3]

Evan had spent three winters in the Uk, but this was the first time he was doing Christmas.

He and his friends had fought the variant of Tedershacourt that first Christmas, and he kind of figured all holidays with friends meant little adventures and slaying monsters. It’s what he was good at, so he didn’t really mind.

But living with Sam had taught him about other stuff he was good at. He was good at keeping a home if he knew he could stay. He was good at grocery shopping and finding the best deals, and he was good at drawing baths and remembering to take the trash out.

It turned out, Even was good at being kept. Which was amazing news for him since that was all he’d ever wanted.

He wasn’t good at keeping secrets, though.

“Hey, there’s my boy!” Jammer crowed, pulling Evan into a dap and then a hug. Evan hugged him back, clapping him on his shoulders without hitting his wings.

“Hey, there Jammer.” Evan gave him a small smile. “How was the flight?”

“Oh, I’m getting real good at the albatross thing,” Jammer said. “I was worried when it got colder I wouldn’t be able to find that warm current to lock into but no I got it! It’s there!”

“I love that for you, man, never doubted you for a second.”

Jammer laughed, clapping Evan on the back again before going to greet Sam.

Everyone knew Evan was crashing with Sam. After their last adventure where they saved magic on spring break, it was universally decided that Evan couldn’t stay in his weird apartment full of tape marking a place for everything but himself. And Sam had offered and Evan wanted to live in a big treehouse with all his friends forever so if this was a way for him to get part of that dream, he’d take it.

That’s the part everyone knew. Everyone didn’t know that Sam and Evan slept in the same bed. And Evan was allowed to kiss Sam now – was in fact encouraged to kiss her. His friends didn’t know that they held hands on the couch and Sam introduced him to her celebrity friends as ‘my boyfriend, Evan.’

Not even “My haunted white boyfriend,” just “my boyfriend”. Evan felt like he was in a fairytale.

But it was a secret. Because of K. Because they were all best friends and Sam and K were best friends and Evan was a dirty homie hopper who just desperately wanted his friends to still love him even when he was selfishly letting himself be kept.

Sam did not think the secrecy was necessary. She thought K would be cool, Jammer would be supportive, and no one would be weird.

Except she was already wrong because Evan would be weird. So they were keeping it a secret for now.

Or trying to.

K arrived next and they all said hello and Evan was desperately trying to be normal. It was so much harder now: since he’d gotten the boon from Tadershacourt and decided to stop masking, it had become so much more comfortable to just be himself. To be honest and off putting and naturally Kelmp. And now he was trying to put on an act again and it fit like a school uniform he’d grown out of. Like pants he’d owned when he hadn’t had enough to eat. It chafed and made him sweaty: two things that would definitely give him away.

“Oh, I’m so glad you guys are here!” Sam said, her hands still holding K’s as she smiled at their friends. Evan couldn’t help but smile back at her. She had the most beautiful smile in the world. “Evan and I just walked past the Christmas market in town and I didn’t let myself shop around because I wanted to wait for both of you to get here but now I really want to go back because they had such cute stuff.”

“Ah, man, I don’t know how much shit I can fly with,” Jammer said, frowning.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! If you buy anything I’ll ship it for you! Or I can have my assistant ship it for you. Or, really, she's T2's assistant. T2 has found it so much easier dealing with business when she has a human to handle the one-on-ones for him.”

“Oh, T2 got an assistant?” K said, gripping onto Sam’s hands and bouncing on their toes. “What a little mover and shaker.”

“I know! And she’s really helped T2 and Evan reconcile.”

Evan smiled again, closed lips, as he shoved his hands in his pockets. What really helped Evan and T2 reconcile was Evan deciding he couldn’t have beef with a teacup pig who wasn’t even trying to be Sam’s dog and T2 accepted that Evan was going to sometimes sit at Sam’s feet and that was okay.

Evan wasn’t sure if they were friends, but Evan hadn’t had to threaten him with a tapout again.

They obviously went to the Christmas market because Sam wanted to go to the Christmas market and Sam was kind of the person in charge always.

Jammer and K, not new to visiting London but still visitors instead of residents like Evan and Sam, quickly lost them as they ran around the market, other patrons having to duck out of the way of Jammer’s wings.

Which left Evan and Sam to walk at a leisurely pace through the market stalls. Evan would have normally taken Sam’s hand. He liked holding her hand and in the past few months she’d managed to convince him she liked it too. He was comfortable, now, being the one to reach out to her. And she was so happy and proud of him for it.

But he didn’t let himself hold her hand here. This was a secret. He didn’t want to upset his friends because he was selfish.

Sam took his hand, pulling him along behind her as she also ran off. This was a good compromise – Sam was so smart. He smiled at her, stumbling after her as she pulled him along.

She towed him to stall after stall, always buying at least one thing to support the business and having Evan carry it in his backpack. His backpack was usually mostly empty these days but he still carried it. For Sam.

They were at a holiday botanical tent when Evan felt the familiar whoosh of Jammer’s wings. He looked up, expecting to see Jammer hovering over them, and he was. Holding a sprig of mistletoe.

“Uh oh!” Jammer said, grinning and posing in midair. “Looks like some people havta kiss.”

Evan immediately started stuttering and Sam just smiled up at him.

“If you’re holding it, Jammer, does that mean we have to kiss you too?”

Jammer pulled his body up higher, reaching his hand way below himself. The flapping of his wings to keep him in place was causing a lot of chaos ont he ground. “I’m not below it! I’m above it! I’m not a kissee in this case!”

“Yup!” Called K and Evan whipped around to see her crouching like a gargoyle on one of the tents. “Jammer and I are safely above. You too, though?” They sighed, dreamily, beginning their clasped hands to their cheek like the Disney princess they sometimes were. “Caught under the mistletoe. One of the sweetest holiday tropes of all time.”

Evan gaped, slightly. “And you’re cool with that?”

K pulled a face like ‘Duh’. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then they seemed to realize. “Oh! Because we used to–? Oh, Evan! New season new pairings! Come on, dude!”

“Is that why you’ve been so weird?” Jammer asked, looking like he was gonna try to land next to K but thinking better of it. “Evan, man, kiss her! We want you to! You want to! She wants you to! It’s all good!”

K started chanting “kiss her kiss her kiss her” and it then other patrons started joining in “kiss her kiss her kiss her” and Evan looked at Sam who was smiling at him, beautiful as always, but a little nervous. Like she knew this wasn’t what Evan wanted. Like she was afraid he’d run away and leave her unkissed.

But Evan would never do that. As long as Sam was there, smiling at him like she did, and wanting him to kiss her, he would.

So he did. And the gathered patrons erupted before quickly losing interest and their friends applauded from above them and Evan bought the mistletoe.

Because his friends picked it. Just like they’d picked him. And as long as Evan and Sam kept picking each other, it felt important to honor that choice.

And also because his shadow got in the habit of popping up with the mistletoe at random moments so he and Sam would kiss. Which was nice.

If Christmases could always be like this – no adventures or monsters to fight – Evan thought that might be okay.

#Dimension 20 #Misfits and Magic #SamEvan #dumb fic #oops I wrote a thing #Jessie writes D20 fic #Advent calendar 2024

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bellswlw · 2 years ago

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ burnin’ up ⇨ e. williams

ellie williams x afab!reader

wc: 1.3k

part one | part two | masterlist

summary: what if… with Ellie in that greenhouse, you had let her take you?

cw: smut, fingering (r!receiving), bff!ellie, gardener!reader, inexperienced reader, some fluff, slight edging (r!receiving), making out in semi public space (?) ejaculation consumption (e!receiving) slight mention of a knife

a/n: i had to write an alternate ending for them, they are simply consuming my entire mind:,)) (i’m so normal) slightly proofread

“Is that why you left last night? Because you were jealous?” and Ellie’s voice rose to a mocking tone, tugging on your hands in a playful manner.

“Shut up. I was not.” and you look away, the smile bolted across your face proudly.

“You were! Say it, say it please! Tell me how jealous you were. C’mon, tell me tell me tell me!”

And it's then that you smash your lips against Ellie’s to meet her halfway with just the very tip of your toes.

Her lips were warm with lust, her hands breaking from yours to find the soft spots behind your ears with a swipe. Ellie exhaled into your mouth immediately and your head met the back wall of the greenhouse with a soft thud.

Her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance that was obviously unnecessary by how quickly you parted your lips for her. She rubbed slow circles over your jaw, and soon enough her hand was traveling down the curve of your hip and squeezing there. Just enough to express a moan from you.

Ellie smirked against your lips, drawing back for a breath before kissing you harder now, not hesitating or double checking for dominance. You were absolutely floored.

Your shirt had ridden up just mere inches, and her hand was met with the small piece of bare flesh there, causing you to let in a sharp inhale through your nose.

Both of Ellie’s hands are playing with the button of your jeans, fighting to get them undone and pulled down just below your pulsing cunt.

Once her hand finally finds the band of your underwear, it's over. You were already completely unfolding right in front of her.

Your mouth falls open, and a moan slips from your lips, a little louder now as you arch your back to be flush with Ellie. She bends back the band of elastic, traveling down to reach the very top of your pussy. She can already feel how wet you are for her.

Just then, both of your hands fly to grip her inked forearm. A silent warning.

“Your hand… ‘s cold.” is all you can make out.

Ellie pulls back to take a look at you. You're absolutely flushed. “Do you want me to stop?” It was genuine. She wanted this to be perfect for you. She wanted to get it right.

“No. Don’t. Just… I just– need a second.” and there’s that grin finding its place on Ellie’s lips as she feels your breath rise and fall against her chest.

“You sure?” and her fingers are already creeping toward your folds, the warm liquid flooding your cotton underwear.

Your inhale is sharp. Her grin grows with slow fingers making their way between your velvet walls. You were absolutely fucking dripping for her, begging for more with the buck of your hips.

“Ell…” you trail off, your eyes fluttering shut when her hand reaches for the back of your neck to pull your mouth close. She kissed you with burning lips, like a knife cutting through your melting skin.

Ellie’s fingers graze your clit as gently as she can, but it still sends a shock that makes the goosebumps freeze your whole body. You moan against her mouth.

This was so much. But you couldn’t stop. You wanted her mouth, and her hands, and her.

Ellie hums against your lips, her smile practically tattooed on her face as she dips her hand lower, slowly sinking a finger into you.

You feel full, the cord in your stomach already tightening from the feeling of her being inside you like this.

You moan in response, just what she wants to hear. The sweet sweet sound of your moans against her mouth as you take her in the greenhouse. Where if someone walked by they would see clear as day how much of you you had given to her already, and how much more of you would give before the sun had set.

Your fingers had loosened their grip on her arm, now snaking up past her shoulders and resting there with a slight tremble.

“You… holy shit. Oh–” your voice snaps.

Ellie slips a second finger in, the warm feeling of your clenching pussy making her mouth water. She wanted to take you right here, right now. She wanted to take you anywhere, everywhere.

On her couch, her bed, her desk, yours. All over this fucking greenhouse for everyone to see. She was tired of keeping you inside her head. She wanted everyone to know that she had you, and that you wanted her.

Ellie moaned against you with a thundering groan soon to follow, the heartbeat of a million butterflies breaking from their cocoons in her stomach.

“Fuck,” she breathed. She couldnt fucking believe the sight of it.

She had dreams like this, where you were quite literally wrapped around her fingers, taking what she gave you in the matter of minutes. She never even began to think it would ever come to life.

And she never thought it would feel so… electric. So static and frizzled out enough to make her to feel like she was burning from the inside out.

She was on fire now, a deep forest catching branch by branch until her fingers were pumping in and out of you with quick succession, a curl to her fingers that sent tsunami sized waves through you.

A moan etched its way out of you, so much so that Ellie’s lips failed to silence you.

You were unraveling. Now.

“Shh,” she cood, her hand coming from behind your neck to cover nearly half of your face with the palm of her hand alone.

It was hot. Her hand, you, the entire room in flames.

“Shh, shh. C’mon. You’re so close,” she murmured, her forehead resting against yours. You couldn’t look at her. Shit, you couldn’t even keep your eyes open. Her fingers curled up inside you and you pinched your eyes shut with a small peep.

Silence. Utter silence.

You were falling. Falling, falling so hard that the cord in your stomach snapped and unraveled all over Ellie’s hand, the hot liquid filling her palm and causing her to chuckle at you under your breath.

“There it is,” she whispered, and slowed her pace in hopes of soon matching it with your raging heartbeat.

Your shallow breaths slowed, just enough to crack your eyes back open and move your head to rest on Ellie’s shoulder.

“Fuck. that was…” and there’s a moment of still silence before you laugh into her shirt.

You fucking laugh. A open-mouth, tight eyed laugh that makes you shake with each inhale.

Ellie begins to chuckle into your ear, her head falling back dramatically.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” she says.

“Me too.”

Soon, Ellie is taking a step from you with her hand completely soaked and glistening with your cum. She looks to you, almost for approval before taking her fingers and dipping them into her mouth. A watered down sweet hue bounces on her tongue.

You suck in a breath, moments before reeling back and playfully throwing a punch at Ellie’s arm.

“Ow!?” she screams, her hand flying to the bruising part of her bicep.

“Stop it!” you say, looking away from her. You were still smiling from ear to ear.

“What?! I just wanted a taste…” and she throws her hands out at her sides in defeat. She knew what she was doing, and now that she knew how easily she flustered you, she would make it her job and title. Her only main mission.

You button up your jeans with shaky hands, grabbing the clippings that had suddenly become your last priority, due to Ellie. “C’mon. Let's go.” you can’t even look at her.

“Let me take those,” she says, reaching toward you to take the glass jars that were prepped and ready to go, your scribbly handwriting showing itself to Ellie from the lid.

You hand them over and make your way over towards the door. You give it a tug, and to your surprise it pops open with little force. Hm.

Ellie follows you out, the sun casting right over top of the greenhouse and causing you both to look up at it as you see the snow slowly start to melt in small patches. Like an unfinished painting.

You begin to walk back toward the dining hall, and you feel a small pinch in your back pocket.

You look back at Ellie just as her hand flies back up, supporting the jars. You smirk.

English lavender, in the back pocket of your jeans.

Jesus, she was losing it.

#burnin’ up #the last of us #bellswlw #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou 2 #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x you #tlou smut #ellie tlou2 #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #tlou

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