#tremors are difficult!!

[tremor-culture-is]

Et culture is wanting to complain about your hand tremors but feeling like people with "real disabilities" will think you're faking

♡

[iregularlyevadetaxes]

amugus

[fruit-snacker]

Happy disability pride to all who are in between diagnoses because the doctors don't know what the heck is up with you

[rainrot4me]

Rain’s Kinktober 2024 - 07

Ticci Toby x Female Reader - Clothed Sex/Forced Proximity

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Clothed sex, dry humping, biting, blood, panic attacks, rutting, grinding, forced proximity, claustrophobia

Tag: #rainykinktober2024

Words: 2.4k

A/N: This is by no means an accurate depiction of what a panic attack is actually like. Please do not take what I describe/write out as realistic.

“Is now a buh- bad time to tell you I’m clau- claustrophobic…?”

Toby was jittering, nails scratching the side of his neck so hard the skin was rubbed raw and nearly bleeding. You were holding his arms- trying to, as he shook something awful cramped against you.

“Hey, hey, shhh. You’re okay, man.”

You had seen one too many times what it looked like when Toby wound himself into a panic attack, the brunette spiraling so bad EJ had to administer some sedatives just to get him to sit down. He was nearly there now, eyes so bloodshot you wondered if he had popped a vein. 

Jeff, as bright as he is, thought it would be funny to lock you both in the mansion’s basement storage closet after you refused to do his chores. The killer knew you liked Toby, knew you had trusted him with that, but found it so hilarious to punish you both. You had beat on the door, and called his name, yet he was long gone upstairs. 

At first, you were angry, seething at him for forcing you into this position. But when the brunette’s awkward laughs turned into panicked tremors, that anger slowly dissipated.

“Toby- You have got to breathe.”

“Can’t- M’c-can’t-” Toby couldn’t feel as his fingernails broke the skin on his neck, droplets of blood trickling onto his jacket. You panicked, shuffling against the piles of junk as your back pressed against the grimy brick wall. The only source of light was a single dusty lightbulb overhead, the electricity nearly shot as it flickered and whirred above you. But through his mask and goggles ruffled into his hair, you could see Toby’s expressions clearly as he teetered on the verge of passing out.

You reached for the old door handle, rattling the knob and cursing when it refused to budge. Toby whined above you, his chest heaving against yours and cramping your further into the dark corner, neck jerking and grunting. You called out, hollering for Jeff or anybody that would listen, but were met with nothing but the brunette’s panic.

“Toby- Listen, man. You’re gonna have to calm down-” Cramming your hands up, you gripped his wrists, forcefully tugging his nails off of his wilted neck. The boy panted, his mask nearly choking him now from the lack of clear air he was getting. It was musty and damp in the small room, so his quick breaths didn’t help.

Shoving his hands away from yours, he began to grip at his mask, trying so desperately to remove the clunky thing. His hair was matted to his face, sweat dripping and cheeks flushed darker than you could really see. “Off- Get it off-” He cried.

You understood, trying to contort your body against his to push your hands behind his head and unclip the mask, shoving his goggles off as well. It was difficult with him twitching and heaving like a madman, forcefully shoving his body back against the bricks so you could get a hold on him.

Finally, you unclipped the straps, the metal clanging to the ground as he shoved it off of his face. His panting was even louder now, unobstructed breathing fogging against you as he began to scratch at his neck again. You cursed, even without his mask he still couldn’t relax.

His hands moved up towards his mouth, a sharp inhale before he scratched at the bandaged limbs and began to gnaw on his palms. You watched fearfully as the cloth covering old wounds tore and blood began to trickle down, the brunette completely unaware of just how much damage he was causing. He couldn’t feel any of it.

“Hey! Toby-” You both were grappling, straining against each other as you tried to pry Toby’s blood-worn hands away from his mouth, droplets of blood dripping down his chin. He resisted, his shaky hands fidgeting against yours when you finally shoved his face away, clasping your hands tight around his.

“[Y/N]... Please…” His voice was raspy, throat sore from heaving so hard. You tried to doorknob again, the rattling making Toby jump when you tried to force it open, but still no luck. You groan, throwing your hands around his shoulders and hauling him down to your height, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. You had heard that panic attacks can be subsided if there’s a lack of stimulation- like forcing the brunette into the darkness of your forced hug.

What you didn’t expect was the lips that wrapped around the flesh of your neck and forcefully bit down. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but his teeth digging into the muscles running up your throat felt less than comfortable. Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to push him off, but his arms were already circling around your middle and hauling you impossibly closer. Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other tangling into his messy hair. His breathing was still heavy, but the sporadic groans and whines had subsided.

You hissed, the blood from his lips smearing onto the crook of your neck and dribbling down your shirt. His hands fisted the back of your shirt, tugging the fabric and pressing you firmly against him. Lips searing against your skin, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, so sweet and warm and comforting. 

You knew it wasn’t anything- just the shock from his panic attack shoving him into any comforting or relieving thing that he could get his hands on, it meant nothing. Until his breathing was steadying his shaking was evening out and his teeth let off to press warm kisses across the indented bite mark. You gasped, tightening your grasp on his hair as he moved down towards your shoulder, shoving the sleeve down to press another firm bite into the muscle. 

“Toby, stop-” But he wouldn’t- couldn’t now. It felt so good just being able to surround himself with your scent and warmth, blocking out just how manic he thought about the situation. He was terrified, but you wasted no time helping him, showing him you cared. He just couldn’t help himself. 

Mouth opening to bite down again, he drinks in your gasps as he slides his tongue across the mark. Your hands drag across his shoulders, bringing you closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying- almost as if it hurt to detach himself, drawn by that unfamiliar sense of want he usually didn’t experience.

“[Y/N]...”

Lost in the heat of the moment, Toby’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip, head practically spinning. Dragging you closer, you whine out when you feel his unknowing bulge press against your hip. Both of your cheeks are dark, sharp breathing and panting filling the quietness of the small room, the smallness becoming less and less prior.

At this point, Toby doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or his cock, throbbing and achingly needily. Pulling back, the boy admires your unfocused eyes and bruised neck, small hickeys and bite marks littering your flushed skin. Now, it’s no longer a need to relax himself- but a need to feel you. He had never really felt that way before with anyone, let alone you. But right now, eyes heavy and skin so deliciously coated with his taste- he doesn’t think he could resist.

Plunging himself back against your shoulder, he takes a hearty bite, snarling his teeth in. His fingers dig into your back, your whines so haphazard as you’re thrown around by his grasp, unable to actually resist even if you wanted to. Good thing you didn’t.

Because Toby was pushing his hands past your hips to hook under your thighs, lodging himself between your legs and holding you flush against that hard brick wall. The brunette can’t get enough of the way you sigh, and whine- the way you hum your approval like you can’t get enough. This is an indulgence that Toby never knew he really needed.

All fear of the cramped closed stiffened his panic flushes away, only the tantalizing feeling of his throbbing cock grinding desperately against your clothed cunt, riding himself against you. It pulls a deep groan from his throat, his teeth lodging on the opposite, less wilted, side of your neck and huffing his arousal against your skin. He bucks up into the warmth of your clit, your arousal snagging as he grinds against you.

“Fuck, Toby… Feels good… Mnn…” You tighten your legs around his hips, panting heavily as the heat of your bodies swirl, sweat building between you. Toby sucks your ear lobe and tickles a trail of soft, feather-light kisses down your neck. It makes your head fuzzy and body heavy, chills running all the way up your spine. Maybe you’re using this as an excuse to get closer to Toby, but when he pulls back as his lips are so swollen and cheeks are so red, you really can’t help yourself. Call it taking advantage of the situation, but you couldn’t really judge yourself when the boy was slowly grinding his cock against your clothed cunt.

You let your hands wrap tight around the back of his neck, holding him tight as he takes deep breaths against the underside of your jaw, moving his hips nice and slow. He ruffles your clothes, shoving your shirt up and pulling at your pants, the clothes becoming too much, but there’s really nothing he can do in a tight fit like this. 

So Toby huffs, lets off your neck, and forces his lips against yours- swallowing you in a heavy kiss. When you kiss, it’s deep, and it’s slow, but it’s hungry too. Your tongues chase each other alongside your hips; impossibly close and still too far apart. His whines are wonton and desperate as he bucks up against your heat, your cunt throbbing with every shove of his hips against yours. And he’s not the only one; your voice spills from deep in your throat with every roll of his hips, cunt swollen and practically dripping with arousal into your panties.

It’s so warm. You’re so warm- heat practically radiating from you. Pre leaks from Toby’s aching cock, chills running across his skin. His fingers press hard into the skin of your waist, thumbs digging into hip bones to keep that feeling close- like if he tries hard enough he can fuck you through the clothes.

“Hahh,” Toby pulls back to gasp, eyes closed, face pinched in pleasure. You can only stare, only pant tiredly as you watch him, tilt his head back, mouth dropped open on a moan, cock rutting up frantically. Your fingernails claw at the boy’s shoulders, and to him, it feels good, like a deep pressure without the pain. It feels like being wanted- being needed. It feels warm and good- and like he’s about to cum.

He squeezes your waist a little too hard, pushing you blunt against the nasty wall, desperate to be closer, hips bucking up and adding to the mess between you. Sweat drips from his nose, teeth gnashing so hard you’re afraid he’d chip a tooth if it weren’t for your shoulder going back between them. A deep pool of warmth and desire pools in your gut, hips angling slightly to catch just a little more of that sweet feeling.

He bites down hard, careless of the fact you squeal and writhe against him- it only feeds into the sensation of his hard length slotting so sloppily between your thighs. Blood trickles down your shoulder, staining your shirt terribly as your cunt aches, clit pulsing with desire for just a little more. He digs his fingers into your thighs, prying your legs further apart to give sharp thrusts up. You nearly drool as he huffs and groans against you, his strained voice singing beautifully how good he’s making you both feel.

“Need’a cum- go- gonna… Hah- [Y/N]-” Your hands tangle in Toby’s hair somewhere between his breath leaving his lungs and his eyes rolling back in his skull. They weave through damp curls and cradle his head in the crook of your neck, melting into a satiated, boneless tangle of limbs. It’s not another moment before the heavy pool in your gut crashes into you, hips jerking and strangled as Toby’s practically fuck up into the gush of your raw cunt. 

You gasp- and then you’re cumming hard- like you’ve never felt it in your life. Toby holds you tight, riding out his shaky high as his hips jerk and stutter and finally rest firm against yours. He cums in his boxers, staining the fabric as his cock swells and throbs against the constraint. It takes both of you a while to catch your breath, but Toby enjoys it. You find it hard to speak- or even recognize that you’ve both just nearly fucked each other. Only the two of you basking in the aftermath of your own pleasure.

Until you’re both jumping when you hear the doorknob shake and rattle, the door swinging open. Jeff stands with a disgusted face, mouth hanging open as he eyes you both pressed against each other, still heaving and riding out the trails of your arousal. He’s about to make some nasty remark and berate you both for the situation he put you in- and then Toby’s gripping the door handle and slamming it back shut, blocking Jeff out.

Back in the dusty, stale, closeness of the closet, Toby shoves his face back into your shoulder, kissing along the bruised skin. You want to apologize, to reprimand yourself for even letting this situation happen, but his hands are roaming again. Your feet wrap around his waist, holding him close as you feel his hips begin to move again, slow and steady, quiet hums vibrating against you.

Slowly, when your brains are a little less foggy, Toby shifts. He noses along your cheek and searches for your mouth until lips slot together once more, drinking up the other. This time, though, the noises you swallow are sweet, satisfied mewls of appreciation.

The brunette can’t think- won’t think about it. But something is gnawing at him at how easily you could settle him, how well you handled him.

He wants that again.

Now the closet isn’t suffocating anymore, the walls aren’t closing in on him, and driving him insane. Now- all he knows is that he wants to feel just how good you can make him feel again.

And again and again and again.

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

Thanks to my wonderful editors @h3llw1 and @solarbites!

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[yanderestarangel]

★ ! hidden desires — stalker!bruce wayne x male reader

a/n: This is a repost! The first post has been taken down ( by tumblr itself lol); sorry and thanks for letting me know.

♡⁠┊tw: stalking, suggestive behavior, fingering, casual sex, v! sex, ftm reader, sex with a condom, afab anatomy, blowjob.

Each time he remembered what he had done—stalking you for weeks from the shadows like the nocturnal creature he was—a strange sense of shame settled in his chest. He used his shadowy vigilante persona to justify his unhealthy obsession, but even that excuse felt hollow.

He kept insisting to himself, "It's just for his safety." However, the heat in his groin wouldn't let him pretend otherwise — standing in the rain and cold nights by the window in the building above your house... But lying and manipulating to get into your life and home was not something he usually did.

That night, you'd gone out to the club. People were whispering about a new drug called "Bliss" and some underworld drama involving Sofia Falcone, while the red lights of the club mixed with your carefree expression, oblivious to Gotham's lurking dangers.

Wayne, however, was watching you as always—from afar, waiting for the right moment to act.

He wasn’t oblivious; his glances at a few attractive men at the party hadn’t escaped the dark gaze of the guard’s blue irises. He knew his obsession with you had gone too far, yet he ignored the rational alarms ringing in his mind—and started toward you.

It hadn’t been very difficult for him to get into his pants and into his home, and, to be honest, he didn’t know whether to feel angry or surprised. Perhaps it was a bittersweet mixture he’d reflect on only after leaving the apartment, since, after all, his blood wasn’t exactly rushing to his head.

You whispered a question, asking his name, but his hands were too focused on exploring your body.

"Bruce," he growled, finally breaking the silence. "My name is Bruce." The words came out more tense than he’d anticipated, and he silently prayed you wouldn’t ask anything else—or recognize him as one of Gotham’s elusive big shots.

Bruce’s fingers pressed deeper into your warm, slick heat, curling just right against that sensitive spot that made you see stars. He felt you tighten around him, your body responding to every stroke. With an added finger, he stretched you gently, preparing you for more. His thumb found your clit, drawing tight, deliberate circles as he drove you closer to the edge with relentless precision.

Bruce murmured, "So tight. I can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me," his voice thick with desire. His mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking hard, while his fingers continued their steady rhythm inside you. He felt the tremors in your body, heard your breathy moans, each sound and movement pushing you closer to the edge.

"Come for me," he demanded, his teeth grazing your flesh. "Come on my fingers like a good boy."

And you did, your walls clenching around him as you cried out in pleasure. Bruce guided you through it, prolonging your orgasm and drawing every last drop of ecstasy from your quivering form.

When you finally collapsed back onto the bed, spent and panting, Wayne withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. He licked them clean, savoring your taste and scent. It was so sweet and erotic that he felt his cock throb, and all the rationality and chivalry that defined his persona went out the window.

Quickly, the rest of your clothes were removed, and the man with black eye shadow sat on your bed, spreading his thighs and inviting you to suck his cock — a command you immediately obeyed. The sight of you on your knees, your plump lips stretched around his shaft, was almost too much for him.

He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your head as you moved up and down, taking him deeper and deeper into your throat, his hips rocking forward to meet your eager tongue. "Just like that, atta boy... Take it all."

He could feel you gagging around him, could hear the wet, obscene sounds of your slurping and sucking. It was music to his ears—a symphony of pleasure that nearly undid him. His other hand found your ass, squeezing the supple flesh as he pulled you closer, pressing his cock deeper down your throat. He could feel you struggling to breathe, could see the tears streaming down your cheeks, but he didn't relent.

"Look at me... I want to see your eyes when you choke on my cock."

He commanded, holding your gaze as you struggled to comply, your eyes watering as you fought for air. But you didn’t pull away or tap out; instead, you leaned in, taking him even deeper until your nose pressed against his pelvis. He was so close to climax, but he held back, wanting to savor this intense connection, feeling your body fully aligned with his.

"No fuck... not yet..." He grunted hoarsely taking his mouth off his cock as he shook trying to hold back his orgasm. "On your hands and knees, now." He ran his hands over your smooth skin, caressing your curves, your softness, a stark contrast to his own hard planes. He was prepared that night, carrying a condom in his jacket pocket, even though he thought the chances of him touching you were zero... Well, apparently not. He positioned himself behind you, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

With a slow thrust, he pushed forward, breaking your tight heat. He groaned at the sensation, at the way your walls clenched around him, trying to draw him deeper. He watched his cock disappear inside you, your tight heat enveloping him completely. He could feel every twitch, every pulse of your walls around him, could see the way your body yielded to his, taking him deeper and deeper.

But despite the overwhelming sensations, he remained silent, unsure of how to express the depth of his desire, the intensity of his need. He'd never been good with words, had always been better with actions, with his fists, with his body. You tried to talk to him, however Bruce's hand came down hard on your ass, the sharp sting of the slap echoing in the room. He watched as you jolted forward, your back arching, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

"Shh... Don't talk. Just feel." He punctuated his command with another slap, his fingers digging into the reddening flesh of your ass, holding you in place as he drove into you with renewed vigor. Wayne watched as you came undone beneath him, your body shaking, your walls clenching around his cock. He could feel your release coating his shaft, could hear your sweet whimpers filling the room.

And then he was coming too, his orgasm ripping through him like a tidal wave. He buried himself deep inside you, his hips grinding against your ass as he filled the condom with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck. For a long moment, he simply held you, savoring the feeling of your body against his, the warmth of your skin, the racing of your heart.

He wasn't used to this, to the intimacy, to the vulnerability. He was better at fighting, at brooding, at being alone... Stalking you was a different thing than finally having you, and he felt no shame in having lied. So he pulled out of you, quickly disposing of the condom before rolling off the bed. He stood there for a moment, his back to you, his hands clenched at his sides.

"I...I should go," he mumbled, not quite meeting your eyes. "I have work to do... It was cool..."

He grabbed his clothes, dressing quickly, efficiently. He didn't know what to say, didn't know how to bridge the gap between what had just happened and what came next... He was used to being your stalker, but now his brain couldn't function after finally getting what he wanted: you.

But he was sure of something, the feeling became more fixed in his chest... He was more addicted in you.

★ ! yanderestarangel©

[ef-1]

I applied to a prestigious law program/scholarship and I need your positive energy, prayers, vibes, manifestation all of it

[boysnberriespie]

It’s not that I don’t do lineart, but uhhh, I definitely don’t do lineart like a traditional comic artist (think Archie) and I’m realizing this will be my downfall in this comics class 😭

[voxslays]

FULL MOON

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, Alastor is hiding his seasonal rut cycle from everyone in the hotel, including you. Unfortunately, it isn’t very long until you find out what he’s been hiding…

WARNINGS: Smut, AFAB Reader, Dub-Con??, Seasonal rut

It was late October, the time when sinners went into their seasonal ruts. For many years, Alastor had been able to pretend he was completely immune to the effects of the fall heat he felt. Being able to hide out until late November when his rut disappeared. Until this year, when you had arrived. You were a fellow deer demon, a doe to be exact. You were innocent, naive, and most of all, kind.

You knew of Alastor’s title, one he had earned from taking down and broadcasting the screams of countless overlords and other high-ranking sinners, becoming an overlord in record time. Yet, you never feared him. Alastor was curious about you, trying to truly get to know you. Not for your soul, but for you as a person. You intrigued him, entertained him. That was one of the reasons why his rut was extremely unbearable this year. He had no choice but to lock himself away from you and the other residents of the hotel—only coming out for meals—until his rut was over.

Alastor paced in his private quarters, his movements agitated and uncharacteristically erratic. The scent of your presence lingered in the halls, a sweet torment that set his nerves ablaze. He gripped the balcony railing, his claws digging into the marble as he fought to maintain control. ​���Not only did he feel the pain of his unbearable rut, but the major migraines from his shedding antlers. His antlers felt ready to drop at any moment, but not soon enough to ease his suffering.         

Alastor let out a deep groan of pain, his body wracked with tremors. He was losing control. He let out a roar of frustration, shattering several nearby floral vases. Just as Alastor is about to step into his bayou, he hears a knock on his door. Followed by a muffled voice calling his name. He quickly walks out of the miniature pocket-dimension, growing frustrated with whoever dares to interrupt his alone-time.

Alastor stormed to the door, his eyes flashing dangerously. He flung the door open, prepared to berate whoever had dared to disturb him. His words caught in his throat as he saw you standing there, your expression concerned. “Are you okay!?” You ask worriedly, pressing your hand to his burning forehead. “Do you have a fever?” Alastor's initial anger melted away, replaced by a hint of relief at your presence. He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing as he savored the warmth of your hand. "I'm fine," he lied, his voice rough and hoarse from his recent roar. "Just a headache.” He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The scent of your concern was intoxicating, making his heart race. "I appreciate your worry, but I can handle it. It's just...a difficult time of year for me." He carefully states.

“Do you need anything? I’d be happy to help.” You give him a thoughtful smile. Alastor's resolve wavered at your kind offer. He wanted to accept, to lean on you, but he knew the risk. "You're too kind," he said softly, his hand coming up to cover yours on his forehead. "But I wouldn't want to burden you with my..." He trails off, his smile only slightly faltering. He paused, torn between his desire for you and his need to protect you from his rut. "...problems." He finished lamely, dropping his hand and stepping back. "I'll be fine. Just need some rest." He says, as sweat pours down his forehead, the room seemingly getting hotter and hotter. “Just come to me if you need anything. I hope you feel better soon!” You say, waving as you walk down the hall. Alastor watches you go, his fists clenching at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to call you back, to lose himself in your comforting presence. But he knew he couldn't, not like this.

The last time Alastor had come out of his room was Sunday. It was now a Wednesday. You and the other hotel residents—mainly Charlie and Husk (for two very different reasons)—were becoming concerned. Charlie tried to convince Vaggie and you that Alastor was fine, and he probably just needed a little space—while Husk was positive Alastor was planning something. It didn’t really matter to you. You just wanted to know Alastor was okay. When Thursday rolled around, you decided enough was enough. You marched up to his room and gently knocked on the door, not sure if you would even get an answer. The knock echoed through the silent room. Alastor was sprawled on his bed, drenched in sweat and shivering. He groaned and dragged himself up, staggering to the door. He flung it open, expecting to see Charlie or Husk.

Alastor’s eyes widen when he sees you standing in the dimly lit hallway. “Where have you been!?” You ask, with a tone of concern. ​​“Wait a moment.” You say, thinking to yourself. Alastor watched you warily, his body trembling as another wave of need crashed over him. “You’re in your rut aren’t you?” You ask. You had remembered hearing somewhere that some demons could have seasonal ruts depending on their species and sins in life. From what Alastor had previously told you, it would only make sense he had entered his seasonal cycle.

Alastor's face contorted in a mix of embarrassment, frustration, and pain. "Yes," he hissed, clenching his fists at his sides. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd leave. I can't control myself right now." He slightly trembles. “Wait-! Let me help you.” Alastor's eyes widened, and he took a step back, shaking his head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not. You can't." He trailed off, his breathing growing heavier as another surge of desire washed over him. "Please.” Your eyes meet, and you look into his crimson red pupils, now even redder with pain. “I don’t want you to suffer. Please, just let me help you.” You practically beg. Alastor's resolve wavers as he meets your gaze. The concern and care in your eyes nearly undo him. He takes a shuddering breath. "You don't know what you're offering," he warns, his voice rough with strain. "Once I start, I won't be able to stop."

“I don't care.” Something in Alastor snaps at your words. With a growl, he reaches out and gently pulls you into the room, slamming the door shut. He pins you against it, his body flush against yours. "Last chance to run," ​​You don’t dare move, too lost in his gaze. Alastor's eyes burn with an intense hunger as he looks at you. Without another word, he claims your mouth in a brutal, possessive kiss. His hands roam over your body, seeking relief from the torment. "Fuck," Alastor curses against your lips, his voice shaking with need. You gently cup his antlers, rubbing tender circles around them, relieving pain.

A low groan escapes him as you touch his antlers. He grinds himself against you, seeking friction. "More." Alastor pants out. His fingers nimbly unzipping the back of your dress, pushing it off your shoulders, and slowly sliding it off, watching it pool at your feet. His gaze drinks in the sight of you bare before him. His touch becomes gentler, reverent, as he explores every curve and line of your body. He leans down, pressing kisses along your collarbone, his hands sliding up your thighs and wrapping around to squeeze your backside. "So beautiful," His mouth travels lower, tracing the swell of your breast, his tongue flicking out to taste you. His body shudders as another wave of heat washes over him. He lifts you up in his arms, carrying you to his bed. He laid down, positioning you astride his hips. 

He guides your hips, helping you take him inside. A low moan rumbles in his chest at the exquisite feeling of you enveloping him. His hands grip your thighs as he starts to move, setting a deep, powerful rhythm. "That's it," He praises breathlessly ​​as you let out little whimpers and whines. The sound of your whimpers spurs him on, his pace quickening. He reaches between you, his calloused fingers finding the bundle of nerves at your core and stroking it rhythmically. You cry out, your nails digging into his back. Alastor's expression contorts with pleasure and pain. He lets out a guttural growl, his hips jerking up sharply. He wraps his arms around you, flipping you onto your stomach without breaking your union. 

His movements become feverish, his breath coming in short pants. You scream in pleasure, your face being gently pressed down into the pillow. His thrusts become brutal, his balls slapping against your clit with each stroke. The force of his movements causes the headboard to bang against the wall. He reaches under you, his fingers finding your mouth, shoving them inside. He leans down, his chest pressed against your back as he pistons into you. His hips stutter as he reaches his peak, a deep groan torn from his throat as he spilled deep inside you. He bites down into your shoulder, his teeth breaking your skin.

You whimper, gripping the sheets beneath you with all your strength. As he comes down from his high, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, pressing them against your lips to silence any cries. He lays his head against your back, his arms wrapping around you tightly. "Shh, my love," He whispers, his voice dripping with satisfaction. You gently roll over, gently gripping his shoulders as you let out quick, shallow breaths. Alastor's gaze drops to where your bodies are still joined. He lets out a pleased rumble as he feels you tighten around him once more. He grins at you, his sharp, yellow teeth glistening with your blood.

You wipe the sweat off your forehead. He chuckles, nipping gently at your chin. "Mmm, you look delicious like that, my dear. All sweaty and disheveled.” You let out a quick breathy pant. “I am exhausted.” Your body is still slightly trembling. He grins wider, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Good. That means I did my job right.” He flexes his hips, his body stirring once more. “And only seventy hours to go.” Only seventy…What!?

[hanasnx]

Just found your Noir content. Glad someone is writing for him. Noir and breeding kink? Been thinking about Noir fucking me in a mating press ever since he attacked Starlight in season 2. He can hold me down and choke me out like that any day.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: babe that fuckin mating press goes hard doesn’t it? goddamnnnnn. noir putting you in a mating press <333that whole thing with starlight was fuckin crazy i was clawing the walls

Rough grunts expel from BLACK NOIR’s nose with each sharp thrust, plowing into you from the angle the position provides. Folded up over yourself with no regard to your comfort, he’s got you bunched up in a way that pleases him. Heavy body leans over you, harsh hands on the backs of your thighs keeping you good and spread from him. You’ve certainly gotten more flexible since you’ve started fucking him. The edges of his armor dig into you, but you can’t even register it over the overwhelming sensation of being filled. Fat cock drives into you at a reckless pace, forcing air from your lungs as if its piston defines your diaphragm’s every move. You can barely breathe from being crushed.

There’s something different about his angle, not only is it mind-bending, tremors wracking through your body as your eyes roll so far back in your head they ache, but it’s the way he handles it. Grabbing you like he owns you, redirecting your body in any way he desires, muscling you into submitting underneath him so he can fuck your hole in peace when you squirm too much. Your cervix gets kissed by his tip occasionally, but he wants you to be still and take it. For his dick? You’ll do anything.

You let him mate with you. The way he’s fucking you reminds you of an animal. Pinning you down as if you’ll escape at your first chance, growls escaping him, possessively filling up your cunt with the wet sounds of a cock finding its home. Usually, you’re the dirty talker in the bedroom, but he’s effectively silenced you, yanking you into his bucks with his firm hold on your thighs.

It used to be difficult to tell what he’s thinking, but he can’t be more clear now. The stutter in his hips is a dead giveaway to his impending load, and usually this would be the point in which he’d pull out and fist his cock to cum on you. Stomach, face, ass, he loved to paint you. Instead, he’s keeping it in, not only that but he’s still moving. Like he wants to fuck a baby in you.

“Noir— Noir!” you scold, but he continues. Swollen cock bullying your insides as it twitches with need to cum. “Don’t you— don’t you dare—“ you’re able to get the words out, concentrating hard on forming a sentence when your brain is so empty. The idea of him cumming in you is appealing, but you don’t know how Supes work. You’ve never had that conversation with him. What if he’s not sterile?

Lips slot against your ear, and if you weren’t mistaken, you could’ve sworn they form and mouth the word “baby.”

[anantaru]

do you think capitano has a bunch of scars? how would he react when you trace them? :3

synopsis. it turns capitano on when you trace the scars on his back as he fucks you ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ fem! reader

warnings. tw scars (on his back), size kink & size difference (he's very big n beefy, as we know <3)

grabbing a fistful of your ass, capitano groans against your wet cheek, his voice on the verge of breaking.

"my dear..." he huffs out breathlessly, "i have no control when I'm with you," before he finds you wincing at the rough texture of his skin buzzing within your walls, roaming freely and sliding his throbbing sensation over your soft insides.

you swallow down a cry as you took him, your legs burning as he stretches your cunt— his hunted, dark gaze always casted on yours, watching you with thrill in his eyes as he started to thrust into you a little deeper.

the harbinger was exploring the pure and surreal nature of your intimacy as your body weeps into his chest, your cheeks beginning to burn due to overstimulation and the aching stretch of his cock, "fuck— so… big," you hiccup, "aah, you're so warm," as he pounds his thick cock into you, completely overthrowing the natural strength of your body without even trying.

it wasn't really difficult for capitano to send chills down your body, or coax out each little, pathetic moan from your throat— in fact, he had to hold himself back in order to not hurt you with his enormous strength. each thrust he added would multiply in precision and intensity, making you shudder out a hefty rush of air through your chest, once, twice, as a pleasurable tear teases light-heartedly around your lashes.

air enters your lungs and you arch your back, letting him take control over you as your fingers trace along the bulging scars on his defined back— which some of them felt fresher than the others, not to mention that quite a few didn't heal properly and left behind swelling, bumps of skin.

the man was known to be the strongest, unable to be defeated yet encountering himself in his current setting, he finds himself utterly defeated by the pure trace of you— and your soft digits embracing the countless scars covering his back weakened his mind.

capitano cherishes them, his marks and blemishes were a part of him, in fact, they multiply from battle to battle, burning into his skin as he wears them with pride. the man looks at them like trophies to remind himself of his true, never ending victory, and his brutal strength making the cryo nation petrifying to the outside eye.

your hands were planted against his flexing back as he fills you to the brim. shortly after, you're resuming to take care of his scars, gently brushing across the alarming number of them and awaiting his pebbly whines, urging him on to inch his face closer so you could kiss him.

the tip of his cock drags through the slopes of your walls as your body clenches beneath his larger one. he's so big— a little freak in the sheets if he wants, but capitano was also soft at the same time, vulnerable and entirely differentiating from his outside self, like you're the only person he could be vulnerable with.

your legs trembled as they dangled against his shoulders, your hips twitching and beginning to burn from how hard he was rolling his hips into your sensitive hole.

careful and sultry thrusts of his shaft send numerous tremors surging right through you, racking through your brain as the sheer size of him numbs you out— as do your feathery touches, embraces and exploring of his damaged skin add depth to his means of experiencing true love.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 1: I'LL SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

rb sebastian vettel x gf!reader

word count: 4095

summary: seb's gf finds out she's pregnant, and she decides that hiding her pregnancy is the best she could do due to seb's career

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of cheating, curse words, angst, fighting. set on may 2013. for a bit of background: reader and seb have been friends since they were literal babies, but growing up their feelings changed and started dating on 2006.

a/n: this is actually the first chapter of the very first series, Infinity, i posted here! i had to cancel it because i had some problems with wattpad people telling me through indirects i copied their work and i got very, very unmotivated with this story i absolutely love (when actually this was a draft I had of a tom holland fic back in 2017 lol), but i'd love to post the following parts if you like this one! feedback is appreciated, as well as reblogs <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

You pulled the flush and got up, being careful not to get dizzy. You took some paper and wiped the corners of your mouth to remove any possible traces of vomit. You headed to the sink automatically, quickly pulling out the toothbrush you’ve gotten used to carrying since nausea became part of your daily routine. You really tried to get rid of the acidity in your throat and the bad taste in your mouth, but as you expected, and knowing you've been experiencing this more times than you'd like in the past month and a half, it was impossible.

"Y/N, are you still there? Are you okay?" Britta's voice, accompanied by a few knocks on the door, snapped you out of your trance. You startled and forced yourself to answer, even though it was the last thing you feel like doing.

"Yes, I’m coming. Just a sec!"

"Don’t take too long," she replied. "Not that I don’t want you to take your time, but Seb is worried."

Panic-stricken, you suppressed a laugh that almost escaped.

If only he knew what you were about to do…

"Don’t worry, I’ll be right out," you answered.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, contemplating your own reflection longer than you’d like. Minutes passed, and you almost completely lost track of time, aware that you needed to put an end to the intrusive thought that was telling you that what you were about to do was, wrong but inevitably the best thing.

You were going to break away from everything you’ve wanted since you were a child just because things hadn't turned out "right." Seb was at the peak of his professional career, constantly surpassing himself in every race, making history, while you remained stuck in your hometown, working at a bar, dealing with drunks and immature kids pretending to be adults daily, because you didn’t have the luck, or perhaps the financial means, to study what you had dreamed of since you were a child who just wanted to make music.

You leaned on the sink, feeling the cold starting to penetrate your body. A great tremor shook you, and it became increasingly difficult to stay on your feet. Your eyes filled with tears as you confronted the reality of what you were about to do, of the decision you'd made.

Since your boyfriend began not only achieving his dreams but making a name for himself, you thought you didn’t deserve him because you were heading in the opposite direction. Now that you’ve gotten pregnant by him, possibly because the birth control pills you were taking failed for some unknown reason, you felt like this even more.

Despite the love you still felt and possibly always will feel for Sebastian, since you took the pregnancy test with Hanna at one of the most secluded malls in Heppenheim, you knew that letting him know he was going to be a father was never part of your plans.

"Come on, Y/N…" you told yourself, still staring at your reflection. "This is for Seb. You're doing this for him and his career."

You took a deep breath a couple more times, feeling the knot in your throat choking you. You looked at the girl full of insecurities you were one more time. Her eyes reflected doubt and, above all, fear, and you sadly sensed that it will continue to be this way from now on.

Trying to control yourself, you slowly opened the bathroom door, as if wanting to torture yourself. Britta was sitting in one of the chairs, reviewing something in a notebook until you closed the door a bit harder than you meant to.

"Are you really okay?" she asked again, giving you an uncertain look. "I've been hearing you vomit for several weeks now. Don’t you think you should go to the doctor?"

The knot in your throat seemed to tighten even more. See a doctor… Of course you’d been to the doctor! Four weeks and, as of today, four days pregnant was the answer, but no one beyond your parents and your best friend could know.

"Yes, I’m fine," you replied quickly, trying to fake your answer as best as you could. "Don’t worry. It’s probably just a bit of stress," you added, praying she believed you. "I haven't had time to see a doctor, but I assure you, with all my heart, that everything is fine."

And that's why you're leaving the love of your life today.

Britta seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her lips remained slightly open, as if she wanted to say something. Her look gave you the feeling that she didn't quite believe what you were saying.

"Whatever you say, Y/N," she finally said, standing up from her seat. "But seriously, if you need to talk or anything, I’m here for you."

"I know."

"Well, seeing that you're as calm as a lake, we’d better hurry up," she told you. "The last free practice session is about to start, and Seb is probably worried why we haven’t come back yet."

You prepared to leave the room with her. You were more than sure to go with her, but as you were almost out the room, you realize it was now or never.

You stopped before going from the driver’s room to the garage, watching Britta hurry down the stairs, probably aware that you were running late even though there were still about forty-five minutes before the session started.

"Wait, Britta. Just a sec!"

You were convinced your shout from the top of the stairs was heard by more people than you’d like. You wished you could turn invisible as you saw some eyes on you, including Britta’s, which made it hard to speak, and not to mention the variety of emotions you were feeling inside you.

You needed to calm down and act a bit better, or everything you’d been mulling over will end up falling apart.

"I’d like to talk to Seb… alone," you finally said.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she said your name much more seriously now. "You’ve told me that everything is fine, but… are you sure it really is? Are you sure nothing’s wrong?"

No, everything is wrong, and yes, more things are happening than I’d like.

You knew you could trust Britta completely. You were sure that if you told her the news before you did to Seb, she wouldn’t say anything, at least not right away. You wanted to do it; in fact, you’d love to do it because she was like a second mother to you, but you knew you couldn't because, once you left, there’s a really high chance she might end up telling him everything in a moment of weakness.

"Yes, yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing serious, don’t worry," you replied with a sigh, trying to console the PR woman and yourself. "I just need to talk to him about… well, a minor issue."

"Of course. Go get him, I’ll wait here. He’s probably talking to Rocky or Horner about who knows what. He hasn’t gone far, especially considering how eager he was to see you."

"Can you get him for me?" you let it out casually.

You ignored her last comment because now, your nerves were eating you alive. Britta seemed to notice your anxiety, so you were grateful she ignored it and acted as if nothing is wrong.

You sighed in relief when you saw her nod, and you couldn't stop thanking her out loud for what she just did for you.

"Lie down on the physio’s couch and try to rest a bit, you look a bit pale," she insisted. Reluctantly, and after repeating it a couple more times, you finally listened to her. "Seb will be here soon. You know he’ll drop everything when it comes to you."

And it was true. Once she left, you remained lying down, drawing small shapes on your stomach with your index finger. As you whispered things to what would supposedly be your child, a whirlwind of varied thoughts flooded your mind.

A small pressure settled in your chest as you became aware that the idea of breaking up with Sebastian was becoming a reality. You didn't want to face it and largely refused to, but you knew that for both of you, especially him, it was actually the best.

Hiding the truth from the guy you’d loved longer than you’d like to admit is exactly the opposite of what you should do, but because he was the most important person in your life, and you knew him almost as well as yourself, you knew he'd have time to play moms and dads in real life.

This year, the only thing he should focus on was winning his fourth Formula 1 World Championship, not learning how to change diapers or feed a baby.

Your thoughts vanished when the door opened abruptly, startling you. Seb appeared with his suit hanging at his waist, hair completely tousled, and a face revealing worry matching the situation you haven’t told him about yet.

"Sunshine! Britta told me you’re not well. What happened? Do you want to go to the doctor? I don’t care about missing the free practice: you’re the most important thing."

The German quickly took your cheeks in his hands. You hadn’t even sat up, and he was already trying to warm your face with his palms, moving it from side to side and examining you as if he was a doctor with the solution to your problems.

"I’m fine, love, relax," you said, breaking free from his grip.

"I know you better than I’d like, Y/N. You’re pale," he pointed out. "You rarely get pale. The last time I saw you like this was when the police chased us after they caught you doing an illegal concert in the school square."

Your anxiety grew more at his perception. You couldn't hide the lie you concocted with Hanna for much longer.

"Seb, really, I’m fine," you insisted, swallowing hard as you tried to find the right words.

He didn't seem to agree with your answer once again, and he didn't seem willing to let it go easily.

For a moment, you were tempted to tell him the truth, especially when you noticed his eyes fixed on you, not intending to look away until he found out what you really wanted to say… As if he wants to know that he was going to be a father next January if your gynecologist’s calculations and the latest technology were correct.

You mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. His concern overwhelmed you completely. When he made a move to hug you and you fell into his arms, you knew you couldn't keep dodging the truth.

"Seb…" you started to say, slowly pulling away from him, "the truth is that... well, there's something wrong."

He clenched his jaw and got very serious.

"Tell me, Y/N. Whatever it is, you know you can tell me."

"I know, love. I want to tell you everything, but…" you began calmly, your voice breaking. "This is different, and it’s going to be a bit difficult."

"What do you mean by different and difficult? Y/N, what’s going on?"

Your hands fidgeted nervously as you tried to find the best way to cause him the least harm possible. You noticed that the German's nervous and worried tone had dissipated, and now it was anger that seemed to be consuming him.

"I want to tell you, but I don’t know how to do it without hurting you," you admitted in a whisper.

There it was, you had let it slip.

You didn’t know what else to say, so you decided to wait for Sebastian’s response. Anguish had taken hold of him, and you knew he was waiting for your words as much as you were waiting for his.

His behavior wasn’t helping you; on the contrary, the feeling of guilt was consuming you, as you had foreseen, but there was no turning back now.

It was impossible for you to even think coherently enough to say something that made sense.

You watched as your boyfriend’s gaze turned into pure pain, a pleading search for answers that you didn’t dare to give him.

"Seb…" you spoke again, struggling to maintain your composure and reaching for his hand at the same time. "I need you to listen to me, please."

"I just want you to tell me the truth, Y/N," he called you by your full name. That was the indicator that things weren’t going well and wouldn’t be again. "Whatever it is, I’ll be able to deal with it."

"I don’t want us to be together anymore," you declared. "I’m not in love with you anymore. I haven’t been for about a month or so."

The silence that flooded the room after your false confession was too uncomfortable. His eyes filled with tears; yours did too, but for a different reason than his.

He thought you had stopped loving him when, in fact, you loved him more than ever, especially now.

"Why are you telling me this? Why, Y/N?" he wanted to know. "I thought we were great… I really believed we were better than ever."

"I don’t know, Seb," you murmured between sobs, trying to hide your face so he wouldn’t see how truly affected you were. "There are… there are couples that stop loving each other, and that’s what I think has happened with me. With us."

"What can I do to make you fall in love with me again? I can’t lose you. I can’t lose the sunshine of my life, not when we promised each other a life together."

"You can’t do anything, Seb, and I’m really sorry," you falsely admitted with sadness, trying not to succumb to his desperate plea.

"Sometimes things stop being what they were in the beginning, and, well… ours is no longer what it used to be."

"Of course, it’s not what it used to be! Everything was getting better until you decided to drop this on me, Y/N!" Sebastian yelled at you.

"I was even going to ask you if you wanted us to get…"

"And that’s why I feel it’s better if we move on, but each on our own path!" you interrupted with another shout.

It’s not real, Y/N. Everything you’re saying is a lie.

You inhaled and exhaled more times than you would have liked, but it felt necessary. This charade to try to make Seb’s life a little better was not only costing you your relationship but also your mental health in the long run.

"Is there someone else, Y/N?"

Vettel's voice denoted anger. Rage consumed him at the possibility that there was an answer he didn’t want to hear. His fists, clenched tightly and turning his knuckles white, were proof of it.

"No, not exactly."

And once again, the camouflaged truth.

"What are you saying?" he spat at you, getting closer and closer, consumed by anguish.

"I mean not exactly, but… yes. There is someone else, Seb," you admitted.

The shouts, full of reproaches, insults, and slurs, flooded the room.

You tried to turn a deaf ear. You thought this was all part of a performance and tried to convince yourself that in the future, everything would be fine when you knew it would be the opposite.

"How could you do this to me, Y/N?! How could you cheat on me after almost seven fucking years together?!" Sebastian shouted, taking out his anger on a vase on his desk, throwing it to the ground, spilling the water and the flowers he had given you just a day ago.

"We’ve been through so many things together. We’ve grown up together and fulfilled our dreams together, and now you’re leaving me for some guy you must have slept with on a whim?!"

"Do you think this is easy for me, Sebastian?" you replied, your words true for once. "Stop lying, okay? The only person who has fulfilled their dreams here is you," you said, showing your disagreement on that topic that you knew hurt you and that he had mentioned to hurt you. "While you’ve been living your life as a driver and being the center of attention, I’ve kept working in the same disgusting bar full of creepy old men I’ve been working at since I finished high school," you shouted, furious. You knew this kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, but right now you didn’t care. "I’ve been saving as much as I could to build a prosperous future even though my salary was a pittance, composing songs and singing them with the hope that they’ll reach someone someday and not be forgotten."

"I’ve told you a million times that you don’t need to work in that fucking bar full of drunk old men who fuck you with their eyes to have a good life," he protested, now much calmer. "With what they pay me we can live comfortably. It's more than enough for both of us."

"I know," you responded calmly, though you were on the verge of an anxiety attack, "but I also know that I can achieve things on my own without anyone’s help."

The blonde let out an ironic laugh. Immediately, he crossed his arms, lifted his head, and looked at you.

"You’ve always been too stubborn, Y/N. Now I see what your future expectations are. After all, I understand: if you never got into the Berlin Art Academy on your own, and you’re still working at the same place after so long…"

You stood still, not knowing what to say or do because you knew exactly what he meant with every word that came out of his mouth. It felt like your feet were cemented to the ground; his words continuously hitting you, wanting to hurt you more and more.

"How dare you to say that to me?"

If you were already shaken and almost broken after this whole conversation, now you were completely sunk. Seeing your reaction, tears streaming down your cheeks non-stop, he seemed to regret it.

Quickly, he approached you, opening his arms intending for you to bury yourself in them. You, as stubborn as he said you were, refused not only the hug but any physical and non-physical contact he wanted to have with you.

"Y/N, I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to say that," yes, that was clear, but it had already been said, and the damage was done. "I was wrong. Please forgive me."

No matter how much he kept talking, trying to apologize and make amends, there was nothing else to do.

Without saying anything else, you began to gather all your belongings from the driver’s room of who could now be considered your ex-boyfriend. You didn’t want to do it; you didn’t want to start the zero-contact phase with the boy you had loved since you were ten years old, the one who had loved you like no one ever had before and like no one ever would.

You were saying goodbye to the father of your child to venture into raising her alone so he could pursue his dream in peace and achieve all the successes he so longed for.

“What are you doing, Y/N?”

“Packing. I’m leaving.”

Your eyes were fixed on the floor, your hands fumbling with the few belongings left to pack in the small backpack you usually took to the paddock. Now, you would have to return to your hotel room and quickly pack everything into the suitcase, rush to the airport, and pray you didn’t miss the flight.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” the blonde frowned, incredulous. “It’s Friday, Y/N, we have the whole weekend ahead of us.”

“Well, from now on, you’ll have all the weekends to yourself,” you shook your head, unable to bear his comments trying to make you stay. “From now on, you won’t have me here on weekends, nor in your life. I’m leaving your life, and I’m not coming back,” you repeated, emphasizing the finality of your words.

Vettel was speechless at your declaration. He kept shaking his head, approaching you, trying to take your belongings, but you stopped him.

No matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t going to stay.

“What do you mean by ‘leaving my life and not coming back’?”

“It means I’m going back to Heppenheim, Sebastian,” you turned to him, trying to maintain composure. “I’m going back, you’ll also end up going back even though we live… you live in Switzerland,” you immediately corrected yourself, “but I hope we never see each other again.”

The firmness behind your words scared you. Everything was a lie that, as the conversation progressed, had grown until you doubted what was real and what wasn’t.

“I really hope you achieve everything you are working hard for,” you continued, insisting to yourself not to break down right there. “I hope you win the championship this year and get the four consecutive ones you’ve wanted for. You, more than anyone, deserve all of it, and I know you’re capable of that and much more.”

You said nothing more because you had stopped being strong. You left, without looking back, the room where you had spent much more time than imaginable, and one of the many places that made up the story starring Sebastian Vettel and you.

You carefully descended the stairs. You walked with a false sense of security through the RedBull garage, dodging any questions about why you were crying, where you were going, and if you had argued with the team’s golden boy, including the endless questions from Britta Roeske that you were trying to ignore at all costs.

You felt curious eyes following you wherever you went, but you didn’t care in the slightest. It was all done.

Now, it was just you and the little pea, or whatever size the baby was.

“Y/N, wait!”

Sebastian’s desperate shouts echoed behind you, getting closer.

You stopped dead, clutching the only strap of the backpack hanging over your shoulder. You slowly turned toward the direction the voices seemed to be coming from and saw the driver running to you, almost choking, as he wiped tears from his cheeks and even those still falling from his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N.”

His voice was choked, and his hands acted on their own. Still, it didn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss that unleashed a whirlwind of emotions, where you tasted each other’s tears as you had done many times in your relationship. Where you silently said millions of I love yous that only you and he knew perfectly.

“Please, don’t go, sunshine,” the German expressed. “Whatever it is, we can work on it, but please, don’t let us end.”

“I love you too, Seb, but there’s someone else.”

You finally confessed… not in the most ideal way, but in the right one, especially considering what your goal was after all this trail of lies.

“There’s a new person in my life, and I’m afraid to say that no matter how much I love you, I love them more than I love you, and I always will,” you continued, knowing that every word you were saying about your baby was true. “I love you, Sebastian Vettel, and I’ll never stop loving you, but that person is my main priority right now.”

“Have you been unfaithful?”

Sometimes silence is worth more than a thousand words. In this case, it was the exact opposite.

You stood in front of him for a few seconds, debating internally whether to answer or leave as calmly as possible, without attracting more attention than you already had. You decided on the latter because you couldn’t speak, and the tears wouldn’t let you see clearly; not to mention your judgment was so clouded that you couldn’t think clearly about the next step to end this nightmare.

You finally directed one last look at Seb; whispered that you loved him and always would, even though it was over between you.

All it took was for you to lower your head, turn around, and continue walking, fighting not to look back, to realize that you had made the biggest mistake of your life and would never, for anything in the world, be able to forgive yourself.

And you knew perfectly well that Seb wouldn’t either.

[misswynters]

Winter’s Embrace — Chapter One

Cregan Stark x targaryen fem!reader

[synopsis: You arrive at winterfell, you feel unwelcomed and like an outsider. You weren’t used to not customs of the north.

[a/n: i know, it’s always a targaryen princess switch it up! (pls this is my first time ever writing) and there’s barely any cregan x readers.

[word count: 2.5k?

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

next chapter |

Winterfell loomed on the horizon, its grey stone walls blending seamlessly with the winter landscape. As your carriage approached the gates, you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cold but from the uncertainty of what awaited you within those ancient walls. The North was a world away from the warm sands and fiery skies of King's Landing, where you had spent most of your life. Here, you were not just a stranger but a princess—a dragon in a land of wolves.

The carriage came to a halt, and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. The door opened, and a gust of icy wind greeted you. Wrapping your cloak tightly around your shoulders, you stepped out into the courtyard, your breath visible in the frigid air. The guards watched you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion, their eyes lingering a bit too long.

Cregan Stark, who’s the Warden of the North, stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, his imposing figure framed by the heavy wooden doors. He was a tall man with dark hair and piercing grey eyes that seemed to see straight through you. As you approached, he stepped forward, his expression one of polite interest.

“Princess,” he greeted you, his voice deep and resonant. “Welcome to Winterfell.”

"Thank you, Lord Stark" you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality."

He nodded, his gaze not wavering. "I hope you find Winterfell to your liking, though I fear it may not be as comfortable as the South."

You forced a smile. "I am sure it will be an adjustment, but nevertheless i will get used to it"

The Great Hall was bustling with activity as servants hurried about, preparing for the evening meal. The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the cold outside, but it did little to dispel the feeling of being an outsider. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the whispered conversations that fell silent as you passed.

Cregan led you to your chambers, a modest but well-appointed room with a large bed and a roaring fire. "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask," he said, his tone formal.

"Thank you, My lord," you replied, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

He hesitated for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then he simply nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

The days that followed were a blur of introductions and attempts to settle into a routine. The people of Winterfell were polite but distant, their mistrust evident in their eyes. You tried to make yourself useful, helping where you could, but it seemed that no matter what you did, you were always viewed as an dragon in a wolves den.

Cregan was kind but distant, his duties keeping him busy. He checked in on you regularly, making sure you were comfortable, but there was an unspoken tension between you. You sensed that he believed you were ill-suited for the harsh realities of the North, a delicate flower from the South who would wilt in the cold.

One evening, as you sat by the fire in your chambers, lost in thought, there was a knock at the door. “Enter,” you called, expecting one of the servants.

To your surprise, it was Cregan. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. "I hope I am not disturbing you," he said.

"Not at all," you replied, gesturing for him to sit. "Please, join me."

He took a seat opposite you, the firelight casting shadows on his chiseled features. "I wanted to see how you are adjusting," he said. "I know this must be difficult for you.

You sighed, staring into the flames. "It is. But I am trying to accustomed to the way everything is done here."

He nodded, his gaze intense. "You are stronger than you appear, Princess. I see that."

You looked at him, surprised by his words. "Thank you, Lord Stark. That means a lot."

For a moment, there was a silence between you, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Then, Cregan spoke again, his voice softer. "I understand that you are a dragon dreamer."

Your heart skipped a beat. It was not something you spoke of often, the gift—or curse—that you carried. "Yes," you admitted. "I have dreams of dragons and the future."

He leaned forward, his eyes searching yours. "Do you trust your dreams?"

You hesitated, then nodded. "I do. They have never led me astray."

Cregan seemed to consider this, then leaned back in his chair. "Perhaps, in time, you will find your place here. The North is a harsh land, but it can also be a place of great beauty and strength."

You smiled, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I hope so, Lord Stark. I truly do."

As the days passed, you began to find small ways to integrate yourself into the life of Winterfell. You helped in the kitchens, learning the recipes and customs of the North. You spent time with the children, telling them stories of dragons and far-off lands. Slowly, the walls began to come down, and you felt a sense of belonging start to take root.

Cregan was a constant presence, his support and encouragement a source of strength. He seemed to understand the struggle you faced, the weight of expectations and the challenge of finding your place in a world that was not your own. There were moments when you caught glimpses of the man beneath the lord—the kindness in his eyes, the warmth of his smile.

One day, as you were walking through the courtyard, a group of women approached you. Their leader, an older woman with a stern expression, looked you up and down. "Princess," she said, her tone respectful but cold. "We have heard much about you."

You nodded, feeling a knot of anxiety in your stomach. "I hope it has been good."

The woman shrugged. "Some good, some not. But actions speak louder than words. We will see what kind of woman you truly are."

You smiled, determined to prove yourself. "I hope I can earn your respect."

Cregan watched from a distance, his heart swelling with pride as he saw you stand your ground. He knew the road ahead would not be easy, but he had no doubt that you were strong enough to walk it.

One night, as the storm raged outside, you found yourself unable to sleep. The dreams had been coming more frequently, visions of dragons and fire, of a future shrouded in darkness. You threw on a cloak and made your way to the Great Hall, seeking solace in the warmth of the fire.

To your surprise, Cregan was there, staring into the flames. He looked up as you entered, his expression softening. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

You shook your head, joining him by the hearth. "No. The dreams..."

He nodded, understanding. "Tell me about them."

You hesitated, then began to speak, the words flowing out of you like a river. You told him of the dragons, of the visions of a future both beautiful and terrifying. He listened intently, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Those are just visions, what matters is how you act upon them and not let them get to your head” he said in a soft tone.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Cregan."

He smiled, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "You are stronger than you know, Princess. And I am proud to stand by your side."

The days turned into weeks, and the snow outside showed no signs of abating. Within Winterfell, you began to find your place. You helped in the kitchens, worked alongside the maids, and even joined the training sessions in the yard. Slowly, the people began to see you not as an outsider, but as someone willing to share their burdens.

Cregan watched with growing admiration. One evening, as you sat by the hearth, he joined you, his presence a comfort in the cold.

"You've done well," he said, his voice warm.

You looked up at him, a smile playing on your lips. "Thank you. It hasn't been easy."

He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. "Nothing worth having ever is."

The thaw began slowly, both outside and within the hearts of Winterfell's people. The Northmen, once so wary, started to see you in a different light. Your actions, your kindness, and your determination had begun to win them over.

One day, as you helped prepare for a feast, one of the older women approached you. "You've done well, lass," she said, her voice gruff but not unkind. "You've proven yourself."

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. "I’m glad i was able to prove myself." Cregan, watching from across the room, felt a surge of pride.

[bxlladxnnabxtch]

Eternally Elusive

Rhysand x Reader

❀​🇲​​🇦​​🇸​​🇹​​🇪​​🇷​​🇱​​🇮​​🇸​​🇹​❀

Summary: A pestering passerby drags up an unexpected guest that almost blows your cover.

Read pt. 1 of Eternally Elusive - HERE

Read pt. 7 - HERE (currently wip)

Warnings: Harassment, injury.

In your pain riddled haste, you hadn’t realized how worked up you had made Azriel’s shadow. It seemed to be fretting at any slip up in fear of you damaging your already broken wing, it’s movement jagged and sharp as it circled you. But alas, you paid it no heed- couldn’t as you stumbled your way over the border and onto Dawn Court soil in the most pain you’ve been in since you’d left your homeland. The feeling buzzed in your head, and you just knew that you’d be in pain for months just waiting for this to heal up, but that’s only if you get the proper care for it, which you were certainly not.

Even being courts apart, Rhys still seemed to find a way to make your life difficult.

You wondered idly if he knew how badly his slip up had fucked you over as you splinted your injury, enchanting the wooden block to stay in place with a wave of your hand. Your wing still throbbed, the pain thrumming through you like a steady stream. It was the slightest bit more bearable with the splint in place, the appendage no longer visibly deformed, and it put you at ease to see it no longer sticking at an odd angle.

The glamour you held over yourself swallowed you like a comforting blanket, the weight of it putting you at ease as you looked out on the bustling streets of the Dawn Court. The last thing you needed right now was someone noticing who you were, the whispers would no doubt make their way back to the inner circle and you didn’t need another guest appearance as of right now. You dragged a hand down your face, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension that had built up along your trek into town.

A brush along your wing had you jumping and scrambling to recoil away from the touch. Your head whipped around, swiveling frantically in search of the source. Your eyes landed on a short, brunette fae. His eyes were a piercing gold, shimmering in the setting sun. You’d almost say they were beautiful if they hadn’t been holding a tinge of disgust, staring at you as if he was floored by your very presence. Azriel’s shadow stilled when you locked eyes with him, the darkness settling at your side.

It's slight coolness as it brushed against you offered you some solace from your peaked anxiety as you stared at the fae. “An Illyrian?” He scoffed, looking down on your form perched on a wooden bench. His upper lip curled into a scowl as his eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t be here.” He sneered. Your eyes darted around, a few people nearby eyed you both, a few previous strollers slowing down to watch the interaction. Your pulse spiked, and the fae seemed to pick up on it as he huffed a snort. “Are you a spy? Come to feed information back to your whore of a High Lord?”

The comment hit you like a brick to the face, the insult causing a slice of hurt to bloom in your chest despite your current status with said male. Your features downturned, a kaleidoscope of memories flooding into you from Under the Mountain- both yours and his. You didn’t have time to fully react to anything the fae had said- to what your body had forced you to remember.

A sharp, commanding voice sounded from behind the Dawn Court native, and he bristled at the sound, a visible tremor running through him. “Are we now in the business of disturbing travelers?”

You watched as the golden eyed fae slowly turned around, almost as if he were dreading what he would see. He moved to the side, and your eyes landed on a black haired woman, the girl coated in glittering armor from head to toe. The Dawn Court insignia sat proud on her chest plate, her dark hair sprawling well past the emblem and stopping just before her waist. She held the same shimmering golden eyes as the male- but these were sharper somehow, and they seemed to swirl with power. White wings stood proud behind her, so big that the ivory feathers brushed the ground where she stood.

A Peregryn, you realized.

A member of the elite aerial legion the Dawn Court proudly harbored. You were stunned, as were most passerby at her presence, only attracting more attention to your already uncomfortable situation. Her eyes landed on you, and they widened slightly in recognition.

It dawned on you in that second, and you stiffened into an immovable force.

Glamour didn’t work on Peregryns.

You stared at each other wide eyed, a silent acknowledgement of what was taking place. A runaway monarch- and a soldier of another court. She had all the power here- a cruel switch that was bound to be flipped at some point; you just didn’t expect it to be so soon. She could report this back to Thesan, have you sent back without so much as a thought. Azriels shadow circled you, and you waited with bated breath to see what she’d do.

She blinked. Once. Twice.

Her eyes fell back onto the brown-haired male still staring at her in thinly veiled horror. “Get moving.” She said coldly, jerking her head in the direction of another bustling street. The male sputtered for a second, eyes darting back to you before stuttering out a “yes, ma’am.” You watched him disappear into the crowd of people making their way down the busy street, the few people that had stopped to watch the interaction dispersing with him.

Your eyes fell back on the woman, the Peregryn now making her way towards you as if she were on a mission. The look in her eyes had you leaping to your feet, hopping off the bench as if the wooden structure had scorched you through your clothes. You got up in time to meet her face to face, her golden armor glinting in the setting sun.

You swallowed thickly, your pulse racing as you locked eyes. Her face seemed to hold a certain kind of awe you’d compare to a child receiving a new toy. Her eyes slipped over to your injured wing, the glance lingering for a second longer than you’d anticipated before it flickered back to your face. The fae bristled, a realization seeming to dawn on her as she floundered. “M-my Lady.” Her legs bent to steep into a kneel, and your heart rate spiked so violently the Peregryn flinched, your arm shooting out to stop her from completing her bow. Your nails dug into her armor, creating a soft creaking noise as your voice fought its way out of you. Commanding. Desperate. Almost a plea as you spoke.

“Don’t.” You said lowly, eyes darting around as she slowly eased out of her half completed kneel. She managed to take in your frantic movements in her confused state, eyes searching the streets in hopes no one had saw what she had just attempted to do. A fae with light brown hair seemed to eye you as she walked by, and that was all it took to have you hauling the Peregryn into a nearby ally.

“Are you trying to get me in shit!?” You hissed, casting a glance to the street you were just standing in, the shadows of the ally helping you to remain hidden. “No- no, my lad-“ You cut her off. “Don’t call me that, I’m not Your Lady.” You let go of her armor, confusion staining the woman’s face, only becoming more saturated with each passing second. “I may serve the Dawn Court, but I was born of the Night, you are as much My Lady as Thesan is My Lord.” Your eyes darted to her dark sprawling locks, and it clicked for you. She may have been a Peregryn, that much was obvious, but she held prominent features of the Night Court.

It was possible, much like your own lineage. A union between a Peregryn and a member of the Night Court. You saw it. A reflection of yourself stared back, the pride that swirled in her eyes when she talked about her heritage. You remember being like that, once. So proud of being from both the Winter, and the Night Court.

It was long gone though, that pride.

One of those homes was ripped away from you.

You hope she doesn’t suffer the same fate.

“I’m glamoured right now.” You said, tone much softer. A crease formed between her brows, face falling. “Oh.” She paused, looking you over before she spoke again. “I thought you were here for the Fall Solstice.”

That’s right. The Solstice.

Where the three Solar Courts came together in celebration. Where the day and night fall together in equal harmony, each as long as the other. You had completely forgotten in your haste to make it back to Winter. Your mouth fell open, eyebrows raising as an expression of surprise overtook your features. It was clear Rhys wouldn’t be attending any festivals after Under the Mountain, and now with you missing, you’d be surprised if he left the house. Especially with… her to attend to.

“I’m guessing that’s a no?” She asked. Your eyes fell back on her. She really didn’t know? Did Rhys not alert the other Courts to your disappearance? Or is it just so early he didn’t have a chance yet? You swallowed nervously, wringing your hands together anxiously. “Well, since you’re in town you’re still welcome to come.” The Peregryn said softly, sensing your unease. “Pardon my bluntness, but you don’t look to be feeling too well, you should get some rest. I should probably get back to my post regardless.”

You realized just how long you’d been standing in the ally, and you nodded your head in acknowledgement. She inclined her head slightly, almost a bow but casual enough to be brushed off. “It was an honor.” She said sincerely, turning to make her way out of the overhang. You watched her exit the ally, ivory wings brushing the ground as they followed behind her.

Hauling yourself up the stairs of the inn, you used the wall to support most of your weight. Azriels shadow was swirling around you, fretting as it always did when you were in a less than favorable state. The groan you let out when you reached the top was almost guttural, and you had to muster up the very last bit of your energy reserves to scuffle the last bit to your room.

You fiddled around with the key, leaning your forehead against the door and attempted not to wince as your arm knocked into your wing. Getting the key into the lock was an accomplishment in itself, and you pushed the door open, ready to clean yourself up and have a short nap. The door swung open, and you threw the key onto the dresser on your right side, swinging the door closed behind you.

The door swung closed, revealing the bed and a battered Azriel sitting atop it.

[improbable-outset]

I recently became an auntie/uncle! (yay!) My little nibling was overdue by a week and the funny thing is, as a way to induce labor, sib and their lovely s/o tried the whole sexy times to get baby moving. And it worked! So how about Miguel and their s/o in that same scenario and Miguel convinces his loving wife to try it out seeing as their kid is a few days overdue? Bonus if it works! That man def be looking at his heavily pregnant wife with hungry eyes lol!

Pregnant!Reader smut 😍😍 yes please! (Also congrats on your new addition to the family anon, and sorry this took so long)

📄 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐉𝐨𝐲

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐒𝐜𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.4k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Wife!Reader, gross talks of placenta lmao, SMUT, Pregnancy sex, spooning position, virginal fingering, unprotected sex, brief mentions of the labour phase, breastfeeding and lots and lots of fluff.

𝐀/𝐍: I would’ve been lost if it wasn’t for @lazyjellyfish300 (Thank you bestie!!)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It has been a week past your baby girl’s due date, and Miguel thinks it’s the perfect time to explore some natural methods to induce labour.

Miguel watched you anxiously as you tried to walk hand in hand down the street with him. One of your hands rested on your baby bump, while the other clung to his.

It was a quiet night as you both made your way back home, but even in an absence of a crowd, Miguel still felt an extra precaution over you.

He leaned over and nuzzled his face against your shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah…I’m good,” you replied, struggling to sound convincing. Miguel knew you were concealing your stiffness. With the baby fully developed, you were ready to give birth at any given moment.

It had been a week past your due date, and you hadn’t felt any contractions. Miguel had adviced you to stay home to avoid any potential issues or emergencies while out.

But you were growing tired of being indoors all day and, after pleading with him, had finally secured a dinner date at one of your go-to restaurants.

The city was more beautiful at night, with the spectacle of lights and holograms illuminating the cityscape. Fortunately, it was within walking distance from your house, so you didn’t have to travel far.

Still, you found it difficult to manoeuvre around, struggling with your new, cumbersome, body. His eyes darted between you and the path ahead.

“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice showing his skepticism as he noticed the slight tremor in your steps.

“Mhmm,” you were starting to sound breathless now.

He noticed how you were stuggling to keep up with his pace, even while holding hands. He slowed down to match your steps.

“You’re having trouble again,” Miguel said with a hint of concern. “Why didn’t you tell me to slow down earlier?”

You huffed. “I’m just a little disappointed that I couldn’t have the sushi,”

Miguel gave a small smile. He knew how much you had been craving the sushi from the restaurant and felt bad that you couldn’t have it.

He tried to sooth your disappointment. “Lo sé, amor,” he said. “But we have to think about the baby. Your health comes first,”

He gently pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around you and supporting your back as you continued to walk. “I know it’s hard, but it won’t be long now. Just a few more weeks and you’ll be able to eat all the sushi you want,”

“Yeah…this baby really doesn’t want to come out,” you sighed, glancing down at the bump. Miguel’s eyes followed, imagining your daughter inside.

He can already sense that she would inherit his stubbornness if she didn’t want to leave the comfort of the womb for the outside world— he smiled at the thought.

“I know. But she’ll come out when she’s ready. And she’ll be worth the wait, I promise,” Miguel felt the tension from your shoulders ease up at the thought. Thinking about holding your baby for the first time still felt surreal, even while you were fully developed.

“You know, I was kinda hoping I would start contracting back in the restaurant,” you mused.

“You’re that eager for the baby to come out, huh?”

“Uh huh, I think it’d be a pretty memorable experience,”

“It definitely will be memorable,” he imagined what it would be like if you suddenly writhe in pain the moment you get into labour while dining together. It didn’t seem like a pleasant scenario, however. “But I don’t think the other patrons would appreciate a surprise birth in the middle of dinner,”

“Right, of course,” you said. “But the food was still good though,”

“Yeah, it was.” He continued to walk by your side. “But I bet that sushi would’ve been tastier,” he added with a tease.

You rolled your eyes and pouted. “Urgh, don’t remind me,”

“Heh, I’m sorry amor,” he chuckled, his instinct quickly went on high alert again, focusing on your well-being.

His fingers traced circles on your back, a comforting reminder of his presence and support. He wanted to make sure he was there for you.

“I’ve heard women eat their own placenta,” you commented casually, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose in disgust. He didn’t understand why you would bring it up, especially after a nice dinner. Knowing how easily queasy you could get, especially during your pregnancy, he was taken aback by your comment.

“Okay, that is gross,” he responded “I don’t want to think about eating your own placenta. Besides, there is no way that’s healthy, right?”

He knew you’d never entertain such an idea , especially if it’s people doing things online. He shook his head, trying to banish the unpleasant image.

“I don’t know, you’re the scientist here,” you said with a shrug

He couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He loved it when you would always remind him of his science background, something that he took pride in.

“Well, from a science perspective, I can tell you there’s no real evidence that eating your own placenta has any benefits.” He glanced at you before looking forward again. “I can imagine it being little too gritty and chewy like granola,”

“Eww I don’t think I can have granola the same now…” You scrunch your own face in disgust, mirroring Miguel's earlier reaction.

“Oh come on, mi vida. Don’t let the idea of eating a placenta ruin granola for you. There are plenty of other healthy food options like…uhm kale?”

“Kale?”

He couldn’t stop the grin from forming on his lips, clearly enjoying prodding you. “Yeah you know, the leafy stuff that tastes like grass.”

“Grass is appetising to you?”

He was clearly just milking it now out of spite and further teasing the conversation. “You don’t like the taste of grass? It boosts your immune system and gives you a healthy gut biome. You should definitely try it sometime,”

“Oh ok, cow.”

“Cow? Is that what you're gonna call me from now on?”

“Mooooo,” you mimicked, leaning into the joke.

“Okay okay I get it. I guess I’m a cow who likes eating grass and kale. You win this one, amor,” Miguel conceded.

Though he felt a swell of admiration towards you at that moment. Despite the discomfort you must’ve been feeling right now, you still managed to bring light into the situation.

You were definitely ready to be a mother and he couldn’t wait to see the more maternal nature from you.

Though in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if you’re doing it to distract yourself or, worse, distract him from your unease.

He really hoped it was just the former; at least that would be more reasonable. He knew how stubborn you could be when it came to your well-being, and now wasn’t the best time for that, given your vulnerable state.

Memories of the last time you pushed yourself too hard, refusing to talk to him about your stress until you reached burnout, were still fresh in his mind.

“Next thing you know, you’re gonna say you smoke grass too,” And there was more of that smartass mouth of yours.

He set the earlier concerns aside and focused on coming up with a response to match your sarcasm. “Well I wouldn’t rule it out, maybe I’ll try some kale-wrapped placenta. Who knows?”

“Eww okay stop,” you wrinkled your nose in mock horror.

“Heh, you started it with the placenta talk, amor.”

“Yes, and you somehow made it worse,” you resorted, shaking your head. You both moved on from the placenta talk, shifting to a more pleasant topic the rest of the way home.

~

Miguel felt a wave of relief wash over him as he stepped foot into the house. The familiar surroundings offered a sense of security that eased his mind; knowing you were safe within these walls and away from any disturbance or danger from outside.

He watched as you padded over to the living room, your gait slowed by the weight of your baby bump. You sank onto the couch with a sigh. Despite the safety of indoors, Miguel’s protective instincts kept him alert with his eyes following your every move.

Ever since your due date had passed, Miguel had been anticipating the moment you would feel your first contraction.

Your hospital bag had been so packed for days, sitting in the corner of the room like a silent sentinel. It was filled with extra clothes, thick pads and everything else you might need. He was determined to be prepared for any eventuality.

But it seemed as though time stretched to a crawl as the days dragged on past your due date. Despite his effort to remain patient, he couldn’t help but feel a little restless yet excited for the baby’s arrival.

He settled onto the couch beside you and held the baby bump, feeling the gentle movements of your daughter inside. He wondered how you were feeling physically, sensing that must be feeling a mix of discomfort and anticipation.

Part of him wished for the labour to start soon, not just to end your pain but to finally see you hold your baby for the first time. He knew that moment would be etched in his memory forever.

He wanted nothing more than to come back into the apartment finally being a family of three. His eyes fell on you again; you looked worn out but you still looked stunning.

He had heard about the pregnancy glow but never truly believed it until he saw you. Your beauty seemed to shine even brighter through the fatigue and the physical toll of motherhood.

He felt you shift slightly, seeking a more comfortable position. “How are you feeling, amor? Do you need anything?” He asked softly.

You shook your head, offering a tired smile. “No, I’m okay. Just a little achy,”

“I can imagine…” he replied.

No, I don’t think I could even remotely imagine.

He could sense your aches, even if you were trying to downplay it. “How about we call it a night and get ready for bed? I can bring you some tea to help you relax,”

“That would be nice, actually. Thank you.” You said. Miguel stood to his feet and extended his hand to you. Once you grabbed it, he gently helped you to get to your feet too.

You headed over to the bedroom, the house hushed to a comfortable silence, while Miguel moved to the kitchen to prepare a cup of chamomile tea.

As the water heated on the stove, his mind drifted to the idea of different ways to induce labour. He had heard about more natural methods that could help get the baby moving.

But he was unsure how you would feel about the subject. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable and get you to do something that you were not too sure with.

Natural inducing was a delicate topic and he didn’t know how he was going to bring it up. Yet, with the increasing tension you must’ve been experiencing, he felt an urgency to find a solution. The sooner the better, right?

Once the tea was prepared he headed to the bedroom too and found you already nestled under the covers. He handed you the cup and settled beside you on the bed. “Here you go, sip it slowly.”

“Thank you, Miguel.” you said, taking the cup with a grateful smile.

Miguel took a moment to appreciate the sight of you. In your cozy pajamas, with your baby bump showing and your expression relaxed, you looked more radiant than ever.

He shook off his awe and focused on the topic that had been on his mind. The timing felt right but he decided to wait until you finished your tea before he spoke.

Once you’ve drained the cup, he took a deep breath. “I was thinking…I know we’re both anxious about when the baby will come. I think I might know something that could help induce labour.”

You placed the cup on the nightstand before turning to him. “You do?”

He leaned a little closer so he could study your face. “Yeah, it involves some…physical activities,”

Immediately you twisted your face, recalling a past memory. “Oh, please don’t make me use that exercise ball again,”

“No, not the exercise ball,” he chuckled before he retained his gentle tone.“There are some excerises, but we don’t need to do that now. I was thinking of something more intimate.”

Your eyebrows arched in understanding.“I’ve heard of that too, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try, right?”

Relief and excitement swirled in Miguel’s heart at your openness. Though he didn’t want to put everything on you now. “Only if you’re comfortable. I know you're tired right now so we don’t need to do it tonight,”

You chewed on your lower lip, suppressing your grin from growing wide.“Oh well, I might have a little spare energy for this.”

“Oh? Too impatient for the baby to come out?”

“That and…you’re looking pretty irresistible right now,” he saw a flicker of something familiar in your eyes as you said that and it was too tempting not to give him.

He leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a deep kiss. He felt you respond back eagerly, your lips parted slightly as his tongue traced the contours of your mouth, silently asking for entry.

You opened up to him and he took that opportunity to map out your tongue to taste more of you. After pulling his lips away, he soaked in the sight of you and how flushed your lips were right now.

His voice dropped to a more soothing tone as he spoke. “Let me do the work, okay? You just lay back for me.”

He carefully stripped off your pants, with your undies remaining, before he removed his own. He gently guided you to lie on your side before he climbed onto the bed behind you. His chest was pressed against your back now and he wrapped an arm around you and caressed your bump.

“Comfortable?” He asked in a whisper.

“Yeah, are you?”

“Very.” he pressed up closer to you, molding his body against yours.

One of his hands reached lower to trace the edge of your undies between your thighs. He felt your twitch slightly at the touch and he couldn’t help the grin against your neck.

He reached lower until he felt the damp patch of the fabric and gently rubbed in a circular motion over your clothed folds and the clit.

“Mig—” you gasped, writhing under his touch. You were more sensitive now with your hormones flaring.

He groaned softly at the sound of you saying his name like that, so needy and desperate for him. “You’re so wet for me, amor.” He murmured.

You could only moan lowly in response as he dug his fingers through the panties to feel more of your wetness. Your panties cling to your core from your wetness as he lowered the fabric to expose the delicate area.

The undies were only pulled down up to your upper thighs but it was enough room for him to delve his fingers into your cunt, drawing in and out at a shallow pace.

You were so responsive and your pregnant bump made you look even more enticing right now. He added a second finger, increasing his pace ever so slightly while using the right amount of pressure to drive you wild.

He heard you gasp, loving how easily he could make you moan and forget about everything other than him. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he moaned against your ear.

You flushed again this chest, squirming until you rubbed against his groin and over his hard on. His breath caught against his throat, suddenly feeling his urges getting stronger. He wanted to be buried deep inside you right now but he didn’t want to rush things just yet.

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” his voice was strained as he breathed.

“Miguel, please—” you whined, rubbing your thigh desperately for some friction against the bundle of nerves.

Miguel’s control was hanging by a thread by now as he heard your plea. He slowly withdrew his fingers from you and shifted his body. He quickly lapped up your wetness from his digits before he started grinding his hard on against the rear.

His hands slip up your stomach again. He was infatuated by your bump and he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” He breathed against your ear. He was aware of how more sensitive you were now and he wanted to make sure he prepped.

“Yes…please, I need you Miguel.” You begged further. The desperation in your voice pushed him to his breaking point.

He pulled away momentarily to lower his boxers and freed his aching cock. He stroked it a few times before he located your core between your thighs.

Once he found the jackpot, he slowly pushed himself inside. Immediately he was overwhelmed by you and your walls squeezing around him. You clenched onto the bed sheets beside you as he pushed further.

Once he had bottomed out, he felt his eagerness heighten and there was a hopefulness that this might be the chance to finally bring about the beginning of your labour, leading to the birth of your baby.

But at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the lingering nervousness on what’s to come and the significant changes that would happen.

But for tonight, he didn’t allow himself to focus on that— instead he wanted to bring you the bliss that you needed now before those hours of labour.

He let out a low groan into your neck before he started to drag himself out and slipped back in again, all while watching your face with a close eye.

He wanted to be able to pick up on your reaction through your micro facial expressions, even if he did only have a vantage view of your face from his position. Your mouth was parted open with the sound of your whine slipping from your lips.

His pace started off slow and steady so you both could get in the swing of things— and so he could adjust to the position. He had never made love to you like this so this was all new to him, especially with your new body.

He felt you tighten around him as he thrusted in and out of you, milking more moans and sweet sounds out of you. He kept his hands around your stomach, feeling the activity of the baby inside as he slowly increased his pace.

Your moans were becoming more frantic and high pitched from the mounted pleasure and how sensitive you were now. He could sense the familiar trance of your climax from the sounds you were making and how breathingless you were right now.

He moved his hand from your stomach to reach for your hand and threaded his fingers through yours. His lips remained near your ear and he kept his voice hushed. “That’s it, amor. Let yourself go.”

He heard you cry out his name in pure ecstasy as you reached your peak, sending a shiver down his spine. He continued to move inside you, helping you ride out your orgasm. His thrusts became more sporadic and jerky now as he felt his own peak crawl up to him.

With one finally thrust, he reached his own orgasm, coming hard inside of you and filling you with his release. He moaned your name, like it was painted on his tongue, as his body shuddered against yours.

He slowly pulled out from you and felt the withdrawal. Your bodies were still clung onto each other as both of you came down from your high. Miguel shuffled away to give you some room to breathe, with the sweat cooling his skin.

You turned your body over so you were facing him again before you wrapped yourself around him. “Do you think it worked?” You asked.

Miguel pulled you as close as you bump will allow. “Well, I don’t know for certain, but it was definitely worth a try. And even if it doesn't, we can keep trying.”

The thought did excite him, but he really hoped that it would work the first time. He couldn’t wait any longer.

Miguel’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your skin. A sense of satisfaction washed over him, and it blended seamlessly with the lingering pleasure of your intimacy.

“You know, after everything I’ve lost, I never thought I’d ever find happiness. I never thought I’d ever find someone who makes me feel alive again, someone to start a family with.” He sighed, tracing his fingers over the back of your neck affectionately. “Yet…here I am, married to the most incredible woman,”

“Well, I never thought I’d be married to Spiderman,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

Of course you would bring that up.

“Oh God, please don’t refer to me as that, not while I’m off the clock anyways,” he said, though internally your words felt like a warm embrace, filling him with a sense of fulfillment. “I’m not some special entity or idol, just a man who loves his wife,” he added.

“And a man who keeps the Multiverse intact,” you reminded him. He wasn’t always fond of his role as the leader of the Society, but the way you said it made it sound almost noble.

“Urgh, don’t remind me, you make it sound like I’m some sort of superhero. Can’t you just call me your husband for tonight,” there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice that he couldn’t hide, even if he was joking.

You looked up at him, your expression softened with affection, “You are, and you’re my hero too,”

Miguel felt his heart quicken seeing the way you looked at him. It wasn’t every day that he received the recognition that he deserved; but even when he did receive some praises here and there, it would never give the deep sense of gratification that he felt when hearing it from you.

You always knew how to make him feel not only noticed but appreciated too. It was almost surreal having someone like you to wake up to everyday. “You’re really giving me a big head you know that, but it’s nice to hear you say it,”

“Yeah…and you’ll be this little one’s hero too,” your gaze fell to your bump.

Miguel couldn’t stop himself from gently caressing your stomach, feeling the kicks from your daughter.

Any moment now.

Miguel kissed your forehead. “Let’s get some rest, tomorrow is another big day,” You were both lulled to sleep with your synced heartbeats.

~

The following morning, Miguel felt you gently shaking him awake. Blinking against the morning light, he focused on your excited expression. He was still defrosting from his slumber so he didn’t pick up on what you said until he heard the word contraction.

Immediately he felt his heart rate spike and he bolted upright. “Are you sure? When did you feel it?”

You beamed at him. “Just a few minutes ago. I tried to wake you but you were in a deep sleep. Should we get ready to go to the hospital?”

Miguel didn’t need to be asked twice before he was out of bed and freshening up in the bathroom. The entire morning, he was on high alert, making sure everything was in place, carrying the hospital bag to the car and making sure you were feeling okay, reminding you to focus on your breathing.

As you both stepped out of the front door, he halted as his mind started racing. He looked back at the house and realised the next time he walked through these doors and back inside, you would be a family of three.

This was something you’ve both been dreaming for a long time and having to experience it in real time still didn’t sink in yet. He stepped further out the house and locked the doors before he climbed into the car, taking his place behind the wheel.

Several hours of ice chips later, the first cry of your baby girl tore through the room. At that moment, time seemed to stand still. Everything and everyone else faded into the background and all Miguel could focus on was you and the baby.

When it was his turn to hold her, Miguel couldn’t form a single word until he saw her big eyes open for the first time, looking up at him. She probably recognised his voice as he offered soft words of comfort.

“Mi pequeña princesa,”

He felt a fierce sense of protectiveness over the baby. He wanted to hold her close, to keep her safe, but he was also aware of her fragility. So he found a careful balance, making sure she felt his warmth in his arms.

When it was time for your baby’s first feeding, Miguel watched you as you nursed your daughter for the first time. The nurse helped with the latching and the positioning so you would be more comfortable.

You brought the baby closer to your body, aligning her head with your nipple. You got the hang of it pretty quickly and soon, she got a good latch, with her tiny lips flared out.

Miguel watched in awe as she started to suck and draw out the milk. “She’s feeding, amor. You’re a natural at this,”

Once the baby’s feeding was done, you slowly guided her off your nipple and held her against your chest.

“Miguel, I did it!” You exclaimed, the excitement shining in your eyes.

“¡Por supuesto que lo hiciste! You did an amazing job.” He pulled you close and kissed the crown of your head.

“I couldn’t have gotten this far without you.” You confessed.

“That's not true. You're the one who gave birth to our little girl, and you're the one who is nursing her, giving her the best possible start in life. You're the strong, amazing, beautiful mother of our child. I'm just here to support you every step of the way.” Miguel quickly wiped the mist in his eyes, overcome with emotion.

“True, but I would be a mess without you,”

“And I would be lost without you. You may be the one bringing our baby into the world and feeding her, but I’m right here besides you,” he said, voice steady and reassuring. “I’ll do everything I can to make this journey easy for you,”

And he sealed his promise with a kiss on your forehead.

I shit you not, there are women out there who actually talk ab eating their own placenta on TikTok (TW if you get easily squeamish) ☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @thealleydog @mybvalentine @prettygirleli @enneadec @aisajustwannaread

@babeyling @monarchberrysblog @saintdiior

[lalal-99]

Professionally Pretty Baby {l.f.}

Felix x afab!reader | trope: established relationship | smut | wordcount: 1.5k

Synopsis: When Felix is insecure about running the catwalk for the first time, you decide to distract him. By forcing him to narrate compliments from Twitter while you go to town on him.

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut Tags: Smut | Explicit Sexual Content | Porn with some Plot | Fluff | Teasing | Edging (Felix rec.) | Oral (Felix rec.) | Body Worship | Implied Praise Kink | Slight Breeding Kink towards the end | Felix is slightly insecure and anxious

Note: This is so heavily inspired by our favourite Prince Felix walking the Louis Vuitton runway. Also by this Seungmin story by @skzms It's been quite a week, alright...

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @svintsandghosts @poutypoutybin @hyunjinswifeee @sunlitwilderness

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You!

“Lee Felix has been g— God!— gifted a once in a life— lifetime face card.”

“Read another one, baby!”

“I don’t know this man, but he truly belongs…” Felix throws his head back and you pull away. He understands your threat, so after a deep, shaky breath, he finishes the sentence. “… belongs on the runway.”

And you continue.

That’s how the past twenty minutes have been going. With Felix, narrating your Twitter feed to you while you have him in your mouth. Sucking. Licking. Like the god-damn goddess you are.

You were playing with him the whole after party. In secrecy, hidden away while stealing heated kisses in unsupervised backrooms. Groping him through his jeans which he was filling out in no time. You’ve even given his ass a few squeezes when no one was looking, riling him up as much as possible. A welcome ego-booster after he was on edge the whole morning. Anxious about his first runway show.

It started with Felix tossing and turning all night, not getting a whiff of sleep. He couldn’t eat breakfast, his nerves running so high he thought he’d throw up. On the way to the show, your hand was placed on his thigh, urging his leg to stop bouncing in quick tremors. And even as he was getting dressed—honoured by being the leading model to close the show—he was so pale.

Nothing you did seemed to help Felix relax, two of his fingers constantly at his neck to check his pulse. You had never seen him more concerned in your life.

Turns out, all the worrying was for nothing.

As you watched him strut the runway as though he was born to do it, pride and arousal took over your frame. If it weren’t for all the innocent bystanders, you would have jumped Felix the moment he returned backstage. It was then that you decided to reward him with your unfiltered attention once you got him to yourself.

By the time you entered your hotel room, he was so hard already, it was difficult to get him out of his tight denim pants. All the more are you enjoying him now, like a pretty present you had to unpack before being able to play with.

“Another one.”

You swirl your tongue around his tip, making him whimper as he involuntarily scrolls further down the feed.

“He looks so good, I want to suck him dry.”

That’s the comment that gave you the idea. You remember reading it on the way to the after party, his hand resting on your thigh while he looked out the limousine’s window. A dangerous smirk appeared on your lips as you tongued the inside of your cheek. Felix ever the oblivious victim of your arousal.

“How about you just keep ‘em coming. Gives me more freedom to do this,” you explain as you cup his balls in your hand. It sends a shutter right through his shape, ending in a pink sheen on both his cheeks. Not so pale anymore, is he?

“Korea’s favourite prince.”

You hum around him in agreement, and he groans at the vibration.

“The most cuntiest walk to ever be walked.”

You’re deep-throating him now, fingers digging into his thighs and leaving red marks.

“Please, baby. I can’t keep reading these. I need to concentrate on you,” Felix whines, free hand coming to your head, guiding you.

But this isn’t the deal. He’s supposed to let go of any and every doubt he has. About his looks, his abilities to present the clothes as intended, his way of walking. Call it reverse psychology, but if his girlfriend worshiping his dick while he reads through tweets calling him ‘handsome’, ‘perfect’ and ‘god’ doesn’t do it… nothing would.

“I can’t even look you in the eyes while reading these.”

With that he throws your phone to the side, hips bucking into your grip. You’re jerking him in gentle, maddening strokes as you come up to sit in his lap. He’s completely naked while you’re still in your dress. Only your boobs roam free for an even prettier view from where he’s been sitting. Over you, leaning back against the headrest of the hotel couch.

As you come eye-to-eye, his hands reach around you, groping your ass. Your skirt slides further up your thighs, revealing what’s beneath. Or rather, what isn’t.

When Felix realises you’ve been going commando all evening, he licks his lips, moaning. “You’re unreal.”

“No, you’re unreal,” you correct him, pressing your lips against his neck. Since his head is still rolled against the backrest, you have free access to any part of his throat. Your tongue darts out to lick over his pulse-point. “I mean, I already knew you were pretty. My pretty baby. But now…”

The speed of your strokes picks up and Felix squeezes your cheeks harder. He’s close, you can tell from the twitch in his cock and his constant need to swallow. With glazed eyes he watches as you position him at your entrance, your wetness wrapping around his head.

“You’re my professionally pretty baby.”

As the words reach his brain, you slide onto him, your folds swallowing him whole. Immediately, he starts guiding your hips around himself, but you swat them away. Instead, you steer them to where your dress bunches up. Between the display of your tits and your pussy, engulfing him in a delicious hug.

He doesn’t know where to look, eyes ping-ponging between your most grabable areas. All of which he’s not allowed to grab. Or caress or tease or simply touch. A true tragedy if he’s ever seen one.

Felix only realises that you’ve picked up your phone again when you push it into his hands. “Go on. Earn it!”

And he’s trying so hard. “Lee Felix is what angels think they look like when they’re entering heaven.” You squeeze him, earning a shaky breath. “I’d survive off of drinking nothing but him.” You agree with a nod, leaning back to tilt the angle. You’re holding yourself up with your arms on his thighs, giving him the best view he could ask for. “Put— Fuck!— Put your babies inside me, sir.”

“Who wrote that one?” you question much to his surprise.

“What?”

“Tell me who wrote the last one.”

You watch as he focuses his gaze onto the small display as though it is planets away. “It’s— It was—” Shaking his head, he snaps out of his haze momentarily, only to look up at you once he realises. “You?”

Smiling at him, you notice the flash inside his irises, telling you exactly what those words do to him. The tightening of his abs doesn’t go by you either. The mere thought of getting you pregnant gets him going so much, you’re thrown onto the couch not seconds later. As he plunges back inside you with all his force, you clench around him, spurring him on.

“Come inside me, baby. I know you want to,” you whisper into his ear as he shudders with his approaching release. He knows you’re on birth control. But even just the trajectory of you carrying his children has him going in overdrive. It doesn’t take much more to have him paint your walls snow white like the colour of his bleached locks. “Fill me up. Breed me, baby.”

Later when you’re laying in bed, breathless from the countless of orgasms he thanked you with, Felix can’t help wondering. “Did you actually mean it?”

“That you’re the absolute epitome of male prettiness?” you joke. “Of course!”

Since you met Felix, you were constantly amazed by his effortless and natural beauty. How anyone could not see that, even the boy himself, is a true mystery to you.

“That’s not what I meant,” he rolls his eyes, flips so he can look at you. For the last few minutes, he has laid on your stomach while you played with his blonde strands. “I mean the whole putting babies in you thing. Would you actually want to have my children someday?”

“You’re serious?” He nods, timid. “Baby, do you remember when I said I’d kill to have Tom Holland’s children?” He’s laughing this time, shaking his head at your delusional joke. “Well, I’d kill Tom Holland to have yours.”

Your words make him blush as he hides his face in your belly. You’re snickering along with him, body trembling in amusement, when you feel a kiss press to your stomach.

“Okay, okay. That’s good to know for the future.” Your amusement dies down when you feel his hand creep up your naked thigh, tickling the skin. Soft kisses are planted around your belly button before he wanders down your body. “For now, how about we play with the fantasy a little. What do you say?”

But you don’t answer. Before you can even open your mouth, he has his on you, playing with your swollen clit as though he hasn’t done so for hours. And soon enough Felix has you right back where he wants you. Withering away below him, thanked over and over again for the love you continue to gift him with.

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