#your blog aesthetic right now is so good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

endlessthxxghts · 9 months ago

Text

Full

Frankie Morales x afab!Reader

Summary: You want Frankie to knock you up, and fuck, does he wants that, too. W/C: 1k. (I actually stuck to the word count this time… but at what insanely hot cost?😵‍��) 18+ MDNI: Implied established relationship. Literally 0% plot and 100% PORN. Unprotected P in V sex. MAJOR BREEDING KINK. Cumming inside. Slight daddy kink (in the sense that you wanna make Frankie a daddy🫶🏼). One (1) pussy slap. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation kink. Finger fucking. Pics for aesthetic purposes only.

A/N: This lil drabble is a part of my 1k follower celebration in response to this yummy request made by @javierpena-inatacvest😵‍💫 Please take a deep breath and get comfortable while you read this… ANYWAY, happy Valentine’s Day everyone!!! What better way to celebrate than with Frankie and his breeding kink?😋 Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know what you guys think!!!! I love love love your feedback (or- in other words) !!!🤭

MASTERLIST || NOTIF BLOG

“Fuck, Frankie…”

“Taking it so good, querida, fuck-”

“Please- shit- please, Frankie, don’t stop.”

“I’m not, baby,” he moans, eyes threatening to succumb to the back of his skull, “Not gonna fucking stop until you’re full of me, baby, yo prometo.” I promise.

“Sh-shit, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, ohmygod-” your eyes clamp shut, your jaw hangs open, ass up in the air as your tears and drool soak the pillow beneath your face.

Frankie speeds up, pummeling into you hard and fast, his large hands coasting the surface of your ass and your back, groaning at the way you twitch and writhe underneath him. His hands settle at your waist, gripping you tightly, accentuating the arch of you. He’s so fucking deep at this angle, you can feel him hitting your cervix with each thrust forward. It’s an addicting sensation right now—and it will be even later, when the dull ache overtakes you. “Give it to me,” he breathes, “cum all over my cock, querida, needa feel you.”

His hand snakes around to your front, the pad of his fingers meeting your clit, rubbing it in the perfect motion that sends you reeling. Fireworks—no, dynamite, explodes behind the dark of your eyelids, your head adopting that fuzzy feeling, your body following suit not long after. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good, Frankie, oh my God- oh fuck-” you ramble partially incoherently.

Your thighs are jello, unable to keep yourself up as Frankie continues fucking into you; his arm wraps around your middle, his other pawing at your breast. He pulls you up to be flush against his chest as he begs your alter for his own release. “I’m c- mierda- I’m close,” he whimpers right at your ear.

Mustering up as much strength as you can, you twist your head to face him, your hand reaching up and rooting yourself at the back of his messy curls. You yank his head towards you, crashing his mouth against yours. It’s sloppy and wet, swallowing each other’s tongues whole as the thickness of your shared breaths melt into one. Breaking away with a bite to his kiss-swollen lower lip, you whisper into his mouth, “cum inside me, Frankie, please.”

“Baby-” he chokes, his hips speed up, arousing him beyond what he thought was possible. “Want you in me for days, Francisco,” you whimper, licking a stripe on his neck, collecting the salty liquid running down. His hand makes its way back to your throbbing bud.

Your body goes lax in his hold, you secure your grip at the base of his neck, keeping your faces close to each other. He watches with heavy eyes as you struggle to keep your gaze on his, your brows furrowing slightly as your eyelids begin to flutter. “Need you-” you start, a throaty moan cutting you off. “Need you inside me- need you to fuck it so deep, baby,” you sob, “that it has no choice but to fucking take- fuck-”

Frankie’s heart stutters and his cock twitches. “Yeah?” he grits between his teeth. “Want me to fuck you full?” A particularly hard thrust sends you cross-eyed, your nails digging into his neck. “Want me to fucking get you pregnant right now, baby?”

An appreciative little slap to your slippery clit jolts your eyes open, his lustful gaze with a hint of something more—like adoration, like pure devotion—stares you down. You pull him into you once more, a clash of spit and teeth and tongue—you can even taste a hint of your own arousal from when he ate you out before you were begging him to knock you up. “Please- fuck- yes, baby, yes- fucking- let me make you a daddy, baby, please- want you- need it- need you so fucking bad-”

Fuck. Frankie’s pace falters, his hips stammer as his orgasm consumes him—his cum painting your warm walls, filling you up to the brim. You moan at the sensation, your hips thrusting backwards into him, and before you realize it, you’re cumming again, both your bottom halves an utter mess of each other’s arousal.

Frankie softly slips from your heat, and you both hiss at the loss. He releases his hold on you, guiding you onto your back, his hands settling on the insides of your thighs to keep you open for him. His eyes can’t leave the way your pussy looks right now—completely fucked out, shiny with your slick, and filled with his cum. You feel it start to leak out of your hole, and you whine, the feeling so sensitive but dizzying, knowing you’re overflowing with Frankie.

Before you know it, his fingers are collecting the dripping spend, bringing it back to your entrance, and slowly, his fingers enter you, the initial push inward causing more of his cum to seep out of you, but he’s quick to catch the leakage, pushing it back inside of you, where it needs to be.

With one hand holding one thigh down and the other inside of your sex, Frankie’s entranced, starting up a delicious pace fucking into you with his fingers. You’re a moaning mess of curses mixed with his name, overstimulation taking over your body, but you don’t want him to stop.

He couldn’t even if he tried. He’s too caught up in the notion that after this, his sperm could latch, and in nine months from now, you’d be big and round and glowing carrying the product of your love. Fuck, he needs this to work. He’ll fill you up every fucking day if that’s what it takes.

He’s pulled from his trance when a heady moan roars from your throat, “F-fuck, fuck, Frankie, I’m gonna fucking cum again! Oh my god, baby- fuck-”

His eyes are on your face: pure ecstasy, he’s seeing, in the way your head throws back into your pillow, only the white of your eyes showing, as the veins pop out your neck as you scream out in pleasure.

He slides his fingers out, slick with a mixture of both of your arousal, and brings it up to your mouth. He knows how much you love to taste.

Immediately you open up, lapping up your combined flavors greedily, a content, blissful smile plastered lazily on your face.

“Am I full, baby?” You mumble.

“So full, querida,” he whispers, laying his body over yours, pulling you in for a sweet kiss.

“Do you think…” you trail off softly, nervous.

“I don’t know, mi amor,” he breathes, kissing your chest. “Guess we’ll just have to keep you full everyday until we can check, huh?”

Your cheeks heat up, your exhausted pussy already fluttering in anticipation. “Y-yeah. I guess so.”

End note: LOLOL GUYS I, UH.. I REALLY WENT HARD ON THIS ONE, I'M SORRY BUT ALSO I'M NOT SORRY ASDFGFDFH PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS THINK <3 YOUR GUYS' WORDS MEAN THE WORLD TO ME, I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH Also how you doing, babe @javierpena-inatacvest?? You alive? Still with me?? I LOVE YOU AHAHAHAH

1K notes · View notes

befemininenow · 17 days ago

Text

Admit it. You want her outfit more than anything. Still afraid of being called a sissy? Honey, sissy is just a mindset. But deep inside, your identity is female. There is nothing sissy about wanting to wear such a tightfit bodysuit, a lovely skirt, shiny pantyhose, and some tall high heels. That is an outfit women generally wear. Women like you, whether cis or trans. Does it feel emasculating? Perhaps. But is it also affirming for your feminine side? Absolutely! I bet your nice little egg has hatched at this point. (I feel like a mistress just writing this lol

There's a voting poll underneath. If want to skip the long description, scroll below and vote. Good luck!

Now that I feel better after the shitshow last night, it's time to leave politics behind and move on to another voting topic: outfits! This is not only such an affirming outfit for the fall season, but it's also one of the most feminine and modern outfits ever. It just screams femme! I even have a near identical outfit because I love it so much!

That got me thinking: there's just so many outfits that feel "emasculating", but few that affirm the trans woman in you. You know the ones: schoolgirl uniforms, maid costumes, ballet outfits, office secretary, housewife attire, and even waitress outfits. While not all the mentioned outfits are bad (I have a guilty pleasure for Hooters outfits), I feel that some of them are too flashy and have too plain in the feminization world.

We need something more affirming, more unique, more aesthetically pleasing, more... permanent. More in line with your transfeminine identity as opposed to fulfilling a kink. IMO, I feel that this outfit is one those that accomplish that. Not too flashy, but not too plain. Balanced enough to make you feel affirmed while looking like another girl in the outside world. IMO, one can never go back to wearing boy's clothes once you try something sexy like this!

I'm dying of trying something new for this blog: For this month only, I want to make at least 4+ feminizing captions per week with women wearing this outfit. The main purpose is to convince you to go deeper into feminization by trying this outfit out. Once you try it out and love how it feels so femme instead of humiliating, you will have the rite of passage into becoming a trans woman. You can still wear the other outfits if it's your thing, but your feminine wardrobe will expand further after this moment. If the first option wins, I will fulfill that new plan of 4+ captions in addition to my regular caption posts and reblogs. If the second option wins, I will just continue making my regular posts when I have the chance or need to upload (Hint: I'm not really uploading as much).

Now, let's get to the polls, the feminization polls, that is!

#feminization captions #tgcaptions #feminization kink #trans captions #feminization makeover #trans #i want to be a girl #give up your manhood #permanent feminization #future is female

376 notes · View notes

lovelaetter · 8 days ago

Note

i need your thoughts on chaewon with a biker!gf PLEASE

i imagine the gf being a lot taller with big veiny hands perhaps g!p if you don't think that's too much...

as a chaewon size kink enjoyer, all i can say is: big YES. this girl, she gets so giggly around you, since always, all she can do is “oh i’m so small and tiny and defenseless i wish i had a strong tall big gf to protect me ooh” kinda pick me? yes but it’s not her fault you need to understand she is thinking with her pussy, okay? and it worked because look, you’re dating !!

very proud of you with the whole biker thing. she doesn’t know much about the mechanics but she learns a lot with you, listens carefully to everything you say, loves to see you so excited about it. i will have to go for the cliche leather jacket biker here just to say she steals yours a lot to the point you just bought her one and she keeps stealing yours because “it’s comfier”, also, because of that and because of how easy it is to find her around town carrying her helmet under her arm or just hanging around your bike at the parking lot people often think it’s hers and jesus christ you don’t wanna be one of the poor unfortunate souls that ask her something about it because she will open this smile and start “actually, i’m glad you asked, my girlfriend-” like her annoying ass can’t stop yapping about you… unless it’s a weird man then she will sense that from far away and just pick her phone and text you “babe, are gonna be mad if i get some blood on the helmet? there’s this guy…” but its not like she will need to do it because she got the strong big tall gf she wanted so she can play the defenseless princess all the time around you.

overall, big turn on for her, she’s all for the aesthetic too, loves to sneak a few pics of you and you both together all the time on her insta, her mind 100% like “hehe the tiktok girlies will love this one”, she’s so silly. not to mention how she loves to go on late night rides on a highway with you where she can do nothing but wrap her arms around you and rest her face on your back, feeling the wind hit her body, she will never say no to this, in fact will beg to go with you. and you make a stop at this spot that is so beautiful during nighttime, just you two, hugging her from behind, talking nonsense, laughing… everything is romantic, babe. but let’s not pretend she isn’t the one to ruin said moments by asking suddenly to go home, looking up and blinking her adorable eyes at you just because she got too horny to handle it, like yeah, who would thought the bike’s vibrations would go straight to her pussy haha who would imagine that don’t even accuse her of such thing. horny gremlin chaewon.

now let me me talk about size a bit because i want to and i can this is my blog. she loves how you tower over her easily, no she’s not making fuck me eyes, she simply has to look up at you like that! still on the late night rides things, loves when you are just as horny as her and can’t even wait to get inside her apartment, will press your body against hers right there at the garage of her building, shushing her cries with kisses as your fingers find their way inside her with no care if someone walks in or about the cameras, it’s okay, it’s dark and no one can see her there, you cover her up just fine and all she has to do is be quiet.

obsessed with your hands, she totally compares hands sizes, all the time, it makes her knees weak how easy it is for you wrap her waist with them and do so many things with her body, throw her around and in the way you like best, bounce her up and down your cock, she doesn’t have to do a thing but be there like a toy and it’s so good, everything she ever wanted.

#asks #le sserafim smut #chaewon smut

201 notes · View notes

whatswrongwithblue · 28 days ago

Note

Reader does actually try to walk off a cliff and Alastor catches them and gets furious and sexy about it and pounds Vexi... I mean reader into the mattress so hard she can't walk anymore and he ends up laughing saying 'let's see you try to do that again now your legs won't work'

Beta'd by @inuhalfdemon

For my darling @redvexillum, I know you're Overtime Vexi right now; working hard on the Discord server, keeping up with daily Kinktober posts, and also literally working an IRL job. This is a no pressure gift to you. Read when you have time and need a little pick me up. I even based Reader off of your avatar on your blog and used language specifically from my favorite fic of yours . . . you know the one *wink wink*.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!: suicide ideation, suicide attempt, depression, mental illness, dissociation, possesive Alastor, Alastor owns Reader's soul, sex as punishment, angry sex, oral (fem receiving), p/v sex, shadow tendrils/tentacles, bondage, use of a gag, overstimulation, lack of aftercare, begging, dom/sub dynamic.

Falling

The warm night breeze ghosted through your hair; a gentle lover’s caress across the back of your neck. It calmed your nerves as you looked down at the drop below and you closed your eyes, thinking you could almost hear the wind telling you to take that final step.

Just one little step.

A few seconds of falling.

Then darkness. Nothing. Peace.

The wind kicked up a little harder, fanning out your wings, and nearly making you lose your balance. You gasped and flailed your arms, catching your balance before you fell.

A stupid lingering human instinct to save yourself. Your body’s nervous system fighting against what your mind desperately wanted.

You took a deep, steadying breath in, and tucked your wings in. They were tiny; pink and membranous things that seemed more for aesthetic than any kind of purpose. It’s not like you could fly with them. They were no more useful than your asymmetrical horns when it came to that skill only very few Sinners were lucky enough to have. And they weren’t even very demonic looking, as far as demon appendages went. Both your horns and your wings were pink, slightly darker shades than the pastel of your skin and hair. Even your fucking irises were pink.

While you quite loved pink as a human, it just felt insulting down in Hell. Like every other aspect of your demon visage. Useless. Infantile. Boring.

Nearly making you fall to your death by being caught in a sudden gust of hot air was the only favor your wings had ever done for you.

Not that you would permanently die, you lamented. Eventually you would re-spawn somewhere within the city. But re-spawning took hours, sometimes even days. And in that time would be nothing. When you were alive you always joked about wishing that you could just take your brain out of your skull, like a temporary death, just to quiet the awful thoughts and feelings your malfunctioning organ plagued you with day and night.

Here in Hell, you could actually do that. Again and again, if you so chose to.

All you had to do was jump.

Maybe it wasn’t worth it. When you came back, Alastor would certainly hunt you down and find you. And you could just see the disappointment in his face. Hear the disgust in his voice. How lowly he would think of his darling then, that she would perform such an empty and pathetic act.

But then again, he was going to find out who you were at your core eventually. Better to rip the bandage off and make him face just how truly damaged you were before you continued to waste his time further. He was bound to get tired of pulling you out of your depressed funks after enough time had gone by. And what good did you bring to his life anyway?

You were a distraction.

He had snapped that to you earlier that evening when you had interrupted his work at the hotel. Those last stinging words echoed through your mind, branding themselves into your grey matter so that you never forgot them.

Well, you wouldn’t be distracting him anymore after this stunt. He wouldn’t bother with you afterwards.

And if you found you really did enjoy the nothingness that came between death and re-spawning, the extermination wasn’t far away. All you had to do was stand in front of an exorcist and simply not move as they brought their blade down on you. Then it would truly be an eternity of peace and quiet for you.

No more distractions.

The thought came to you bitterly as you considered that Alastor was the one who had been distracting you. All these months of his attention, of him making you his darling, of him making you fall in love with him, had just distracted you for a while. But now the pain was back, worse than ever, with one small argument between you two and you realized if it wasn’t for him, you likely would have jumped off this roof months ago.

You could have let it all go during the last extermination, while everyone else was huddled safely inside the hotel.

What a waste of time. A useless, boring, distracting life.

A deep breath. A single tear sliding down your cheek. A last thought of warmth and safety whispering through your mind . . .

“Alastor.”

His name left your lips like a prayer and an apology.

You took a step over the ledge.

The street below became your entire field of view as you lost your footing entirely.

And then the world glitched.

Colors blended in choppy formation and static screamed in your ears, threatening to burst your ears drums. Everything was fuzzy and going dark and a strange tingling filled your body, like your very blood had turned to static.

And then you were back on your own two feet, standing face to chest with the red and black pinstriped suit you knew so well.

Unnaturally large claws had you by the shoulders and you tilted your head up, taking in the full view of a very angry Radio Demon.

Alastor towered over you, his antlers spread wide, his eyes turning like radio dials, and he lifted you up like you weighed nothing until you were face to face and your feet were dangling several feet in the air.

“What the fuck was that?” he snarled, his voice even more full of static than you were used to.

Your eyes went wide at the use of vulgarity from him. You could count with your two useless wings how many times you had heard him swear before and never had it been directed at you.

When you didn’t answer right away, he shook you, calling you by your real name rather than darling, which he never did. He demanded an answer but all you could manage was a little whimper before you broke.

Your chin quivered and you felt the swell of tears in your eyes as a sob squeezed your chest and erupted out.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out and then slowly, ever so gently, you felt yourself being lowered to the ground and then your face was pressed against the soft fabric of Alastor’s suit. His bow tie tickled the side of your face and his scent, heady with Spanish moss and cypress, and some other uniquely Earthy smell that was entirely him, filled your senses.

“Darling,” he said quietly, “my darling . . . why?”

You could barely breath through your sobs, let alone speak, so it took you a moment to gather the strength to answer. Clutching at the back of his jacket, you pressed your face into him harder, trying to hide your reasoning, bury your shame, pretend like every pathetic part of you didn’t exist.

But he had seen, hadn’t he? He had watched you take that step, had come up here to find you and seen that final microsecond when there was nothing but air between you and the ground below.

And he had altered reality to bring you back to him. To save you.

Half of you hoped that meant he really did love you like you loved him. Like he promised every day that he did, even though you never quite believed it.

The other half of you whispered an insipid little lie that was too tempting to not consider . . . that this whole stunt of yours was just another distraction.

“I don’t want to be a bother anymore,” you finally whispered, hiccupping and choking as you struggled to speak.

Alastor went stiff around you, and you thought then that he would finally push you away. Agree that you really were just a bother. That if he were to ever shackle himself to another soul, it certainly wouldn’t be to such a weak little wretch as yourself.

Instead, his long, clawed fingers grasped you by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. And though his expression was often hard to read, the strain in his smile showed anger while the burning in his ruby eyes showed pain.

“What gave you the idea that you could do such a thing? That I would allow it?”

“Wha . . . what?”

“You’re mine now, darling.” He pulled on your chin, forcing you on tip toe as he brought your face closer to him. “You belong to me and I don’t let what belongs to me just fly away. It seems you have forgotten that.”

His claws were digging into your cheeks and along your jaw line, stinging and threatening, even as he brought his lips down and gave you the gentlest kiss on the forehead.

“Perhaps I need to remind you of that,” he whispered to you, his voice low and tender, crackling with a passion you couldn’t misplace. He was angry, you realized, oh yes he was furious with you. But as the world went fuzzy once again, and you felt the familiar sensation of melting into shadow, and your soul blended with his, you could literally feel that burning rage inside of him being twisted and morphed into more direct emotions. Lust and desire filled what was left of your identity as Alastor transported you through the ceiling and walls of the hotel and into your room.

Now this was flying.

Alastor had sat you at the foot of your bed, making quick work of removing your underwear, lifting your pleated skirt above your hips, and kneeling before you, all before you had come down from the bizarre and disorienting high of being nothing but shadow with him.

Now you were reduced to a shell of a person, thoughtless and detached from your feelings and in the best of ways, as Alastor’s tongue made your nervous system aware of nothing else but the bundle of nerves between your legs.

Your knees were resting on his shoulders and already shaking as his tongue twisted and lapped at your clit, occasionally giving the swollen pearl a hard suck, as two fingers pumped into your core, working to pull a second climax from you.

Distantly you were aware of the flutter of your wings; a helpless reflex, along with the tremble of your legs. Tears streamed down your cheeks, though you paid that no mind either. Even if you had noticed them, you wouldn’t be able to place which emotion was drawing them from your eyes.

You only knew that this feeling; the intense physical sensation of Alastor turning you into a whimpering, wanton mess, allowed you to dissociate in the best of ways and everything that had tormented you to the point of standing on that cliff’s edge was completely forgotten.

The fingers of one of your hands wrapped themselves in a white-knuckled grip around his antler while your other hand found purchase in his red locks and you sobbed out his name as you came again.

Just as your walls began to clench, Alastor pulled himself from your clutches, leaving your cunt to clench needfully onto nothing. The abrupt lack of touch right at the beginning of your orgasm was torture and in his absence you pressed your legs together, searching for any friction that would allow for a fraction of the satisfaction his tongue and fingers should be giving you.

“Now, now, dear,” Alastor tutted, and you felt your legs forced back apart. “Remember, I’m here to make a point. And that point is . . .” You looked down to see tendrils of shadows spreading your legs farther open, tangling themselves around your thighs and hips. “. . . You’re mine.” He began undoing the top of his trousers. “And any rash decisions,” he pushed his trousers down below his waist, “like trying to jump off buildings,” he pulled his cock free and you salivated at the sight of its red and swollen tip already weeping pre-cum for you, “or pleasuring yourself without permission,” he leaned over you, his tense and wicked smile inches away from your lips as his took a painful fistful of your hair, “will be met with severe punishments.”

You swallowed, daring to meet his eyes with your own submissive, watery ones, and nodded.

“There’s my darling I know and cherish,” he said sweetly. His fingers left your hair and traced along your jaw until they came to your lips.

“And now that we’re at an understanding,” he snapped his fingers and your clothes vanished, “let’s see how well you can take your punishment.”

His cock thrust into you as black tendrils slithered their way up the rest of your nude body, pinning you in place. They teased and stroked every erogenous zone with lovely tenderness, their touch soothing and affectionate even as they forced you to near absolute stillness. In stark contrast, Alastor pounded into you, stretching you to the point of burning and igniting the still burning embers of your last orgasm that Alastor had left unfinished.

You came within seconds, your walls spasming hard against the fat width of his cock. Alastor drove on as if he hadn’t noticed, deep enough to hit the blind end of your depths with every forward thrust. The bruising combination left a dull cramp in your belly as your climax went on for several more moments, an intense combination of pleasure and pressure.

After the quaking within your core subsided, you went limp within the clutches of the shadows. Three orgasms as intense as the ones you had just experienced were more than enough to placate your mind and body and your teary eyes now began to droop with sleepiness.

And yet Alastor was clearly not finished with you.

“Alastor,” you pleaded, knowing he still hadn’t come but you intended to beg for him to be a little gentler with you until he had. Instead of letting you speak, however; a tendril that had been near your throat laced itself through your open mouth and synched itself around your head, effectively gagging you.

The only response you got from your lover was an angry red glow of his eyes as they narrowed onto you, before he gripped your thighs with his claws and continued on with his brutal pace.

Too much, too much, too much, you internally screamed, a fresh torrent of hot tears burning down your cheeks. Your teeth sunk into the meat of the tentacle between your lips and you strained against the ones holding your wrists down to the bed.

The brutal pace of your punishment went on for several more minutes; an eternity for your overstimulated sex. Everything between your ribs and your thighs burned and ached from the ceaseless, intrusive rhythm of Alastor’s body against yours. Inside and out, he continued to savagely ravish you, until there was nothing else for you to do but begin to silently cry and take the punishment he was dolling out.

Alastor pulled out of you with a suddenness that both relieved and confused you. Your throbbing cunt ached from what it had just been through but as your eyes met his, you felt an emptiness within you. Still wrapped in tentacles, you glanced down at his glistening cock before you looked back up at the sharp tooth smile on the face of the man that you feared and loved above all else.

He still looked as pissed off as ever but there was a softness at the corner of his eyes that hinted at concern and you knew him well enough to know he was worried he might have taken things to far.

As you felt the shadow tentacles begin to loosen around you, you felt a emotion so long-forgotten you almost didn’t recognize it.

Confidence.

And with that thought, you wordlessly turned yourself around until your lay on your belly, exposing your backside and the tiny pink wings you knew Alastor loved to play with whenever he was angry.

A moment came and went and you were just beginning to wonder if you had misread the owner of your soul. You opened your mouth to speak his name once more but before you could utter a syllable, you felt your arms yanked back by the wrists and a powerful tendril wrap around your throat, holding you face down into the mattress.

The shadows that were still around your hips tightened and forcefully lifted your ass into the air and you braced yourself a second before Alastor’s cock slammed back into you, filling you back up to completion and eviscerating that feeling of emptiness.

Tired and spent as you were, you moaned aloud and squeezed his member with every last bit of strength you had within your spongey walls.

You felt the long, slow drag of his retreating cock sliding against every sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you before another snap of Alastor’s hips had it rocketing back into you.

“Say it,” he commanded and you shuddered with your whole body, knowing what he wanted to hear.

“I’m your darling,” you replied, breathless and yet moaning again as he rewarded you with another thrust.

“And?”

“I belong to you.” He matched this thrust with a gentle stroke of a shadow across the membrane of one of your wings. “Mmmmmm, more,” you begged, as your wings gave a tiny, involuntary flap at the feather light touch.

But he had stilled behind you, waiting for your needfulness to build until you were begging.

“Please,” you sobbed out, feeling your chin quiver as all the emotions of the night came rushing back to you. “I’m sorry, Al’. I’m so sorry.”

As you spoke, the touching of your wings and the powerful movement of his cock began anew. You blabbered on, afraid if you stopped talking, the pleasant sensation of his touch within you and above you would end.

“I love you. I’ll never leave you. I’ll never even think about leaving you ever again. Not in anyway. Not even when your angry with me. Not even when I hate myself. Because I’m yours and I’ll always be yours. I’m so sorry, Alastor. Please don’t stop. Please, you feel so good. Fill me up, love. Because I’m your darling and I’ll be good from now on, please just fill me up. I’m your good girl and I love you and I want to feel you inside me. Please, please, oh God Al’, you feel so good, I’m – I’m – I-”

With a painful pull on your wrists you felt all the way into your shoulders, you felt him spill his seed within you as his body tense and every shadow of his went impossibly taut around you. The heat of his cum burned your walls and spilled down your inner thighs, coating you and marking you as his, and you came along with him, screaming into the sheets. Every tendril bruised into your skin, leaving marks around your throat, breasts, wings, hips, and thighs, as Alastor lost all control, even as he continued to pound into you with an uneven and desperate pace.

Everything blurred as you came down from the high together. You felt your muscles turn to jelly and give out in the final moments of your climax, just in time to feel Alastor finally still and begin to soften before he pulled out.

After several serene moments had gone by, the sheets beneath you began to move and pull away. As if in a dream, you felt your body being moved up the bed and then Alastor’s weight joined next to you as you were tucked into bed. Without being cleaned and without a word of praise or love, which he usually included in an aftercare routine for you.

But you knew, deep within the fog of your exhausted mind, that you deserved this. You would wake up in the morning marked by the bruises and the sticky mess between your legs, and only then would you be allowed to shower and heal yourself.

“Thank you,” you murmured with closed eyes as he finished tucking you in. “I don’t think I can move after that, let alone walk.”

An amused, deep chuckle came from Alastor before he pinched your cheek hard enough to make your eyes snap back open.

He got up from the bed, now fully dressed, and straightened his bow tie and monocle before marching towards the door with a pleased and arrogant look on his face.

“Good, my darling. That’s good. Let’s see you try to pull that nonsense again now that your legs don’t work. Sweet dreams,” he added as he opened the bedroom door and gave you one last warning smile before he slammed the door behind him, hard enough to knock a few decorations off the walls.

You sighed as you heard a lock clicking into place, knowing his point was made, and that he was still very much angry with you. But the storm had passed, for both of you. You relaxed into the soft pillow and closed your eyes, the first smile in days touching your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #alastor x you #alastor x y/n

257 notes · View notes

loveyhoneydovey · 7 months ago

Text

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon riley

notes & warnings: the used pictures are only for aesthetic purposes, reader is not physically described in this. AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI this is an 18+ only blog. a significant age gap between simon & reader is implied but the actual number is never mentioned. if i missed anything please lmk:)

this is a completely unedited little something i wrote at 4am

reader who never fell out of love mechanic ex-boyfriend simon

you still recommend your ex-boyfriend’s garage to your friends (especially any vulnerable women) because despite your failed relationship, you’ve never met someone as trustworthy and reliable as simon

you and mechanic simon who met when you’d found a used car you wanted to purchase and wanted to have it independently inspected

reader who found this older, ruggedly handsome, stoic and yet professional mechanic who seemed to know his shit. despite the terrifying skull design resting next to his shop’s name, you trusted him immediately

not only did he inspect the car for you, but he also helped bring down its price and performed any necessary repairs at a huge discount (he never told you about this, you eventually figured it out on your own)

despite the obvious crush, he was very reluctant to pursue anything with you. not only were you his client and trusted him not to make things weird, but you were also so much younger and he felt like an old dog who was beyond learning any new tricks

you should’ve taken his warning from the beginning as he had predicted the downfall of your relationship before it’d even began

reader whose car has been acting weird for the past couple of months so you begrudgingly take it to simon’s shop

you’d actually tried taking it to some new garage in town, but had a feeling you were being lied to and overcharged when the sleazy mechanic barely spent an hour on it and said it was back like new

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who doesn’t even need 5 minutes to tell you it’s on its last leg. despite his stoic demeanor, he’s actually concerned by how you’ve been driving such a vehicle in such an unsafe state

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who starts asking till he finds a car within your budget. one he inspects himself to make sure his baby not anymore doesn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere because of faulty brakes

the fucker was ready to buy it himself, but knew you’d never accept his money (especially not after the harsh parting words you’d left each other with during your last fight)

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who’ll never love anyone more than you, but still isn’t willing to repair the broken bond between you two

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who still uses o’keeffe’s working hands cream every day cause you used to always rub it on his hands, swearing his calloused skin would soon feel like a baby’s butt (and of course you were right). he tries to mimic the way you’d gently work it into his damaged skin as the only thing he had left from you now were memories

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who never really tries to move on from you despite his apprentice’s attempts to set him up with multiple people (what’s the point of you for something he’s already found)

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who went through the army and came out even more damaged after a stint in prison. he believes nothing good will come out of such a sweet thing so full of life being chained to a grumpy old man like him

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who despite thinking all of that can’t accept the thought of you being with someone other than him

WHEW the is the first time i've written in YEARS (and i probably won't write anything for another good 5 years fjkdsw). hope you enjoyed this as much as i did!! this au idea has been rotting my brain for the past few days and i just had to let it out. feel free to dm me, leave a comment or send an ask about this au. dividers made by @anitalenia ✨

#mechanic ex-bf!simon #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost #ghost x you #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty #modern warfare #modern warefare ii #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost mw2 #sam's cod fics

927 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Text

I Want To Be Your Boyfriend

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe never thought that he could fall for a Pogue, but the Goddess in front of him might change his mind.

A/N: This is a prequel to I Want To Be With You and requested by @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

When he first saw her, he thought she was the most beautiful Kook he had ever seen. The lavender silk Prada shirt she is wearing crops just above her belly button. It reveals a delicious sliver of her stomach that he just wants to rest his hands on. The recognizable double G of her creamed colour belt displays the girl’s financial status. But as Rafe’s eyes trail down to her pants, confusion crosses his features. The black jeans she wears are distraught with holes in a fashionable manner, yet, he doesn’t recognize the brand and the material looks too cheap to be a brand name. Her shoes also don’t match the top half of her outfit as the white Sketchers look so worn out that it had to be done because she can’t afford new ones and not because of aesthetics.

Sarah and the rest of the Pogues joining his Goddess help put the puzzle pieces together in his mind. His sister is known for her love of sharing her clothes with her Pogue friends, so the Goddess in front of him must be a Pogue. Unlike Sarah, Rafe would never associate himself with Pogues unless they were working for him. Yet, the concern she shows for JJ over a bleeding cut on his forehead from falling down makes Rafe realize he doesn’t care that she lives on the wrong side of the island. She lets out the most amazing laugh he has ever heard and he has to be the one that makes her smile. He makes his way over to talk to her, but Kiara stops him in his tracks.

“Don’t even think about it. She is too good for you,” she warns him away. He tries to sidestep her, “Come on, Kiara. Let me talk to her.” The girl shakes his head and turns him away. He doesn’t want to make a scene in front of the goddess, so he walks away in defeat. Throughout the night, he tries to talk to her and is intercepted by the other Pogues.

——

For weeks he has been trying to talk to her, but every time a Pogue is there to stop him. At least he learnt her name. Y/N Y/L/N, the name of a goddess. He is sent by his dad to pick up something to eat at The Wreck and this is when he sees her next. She is whipping down a table on the far side of the room, which makes him switch course toward her. JJ spots Rafe’s new direction and runs into his path with a smirk. “I’m sorry, man. I can’t let you near her.” “You can’t tell me what to do, Pogue,” Rafe spits out, standing up straight so the small height distance looks a little bigger. JJ wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand to try to hide his chuckle, “When it comes to her, I can. Now, as the French say, arrivederci.” Rafe is going to argue more, but the call of his name for his order pulls him away from the blonde.

——

It felt like fate when he got to the coffee shop to see her hunched over a notebook by herself. He looks around the store to check that she really is alone and no other pogue is in sight. He grins at this new revelation, sliding himself across from her in the booth. “I’ve been trying to introduce myself for weeks. I’m Rafe,” he sticks his hand out for her to shake. She brings her hand to his and he notices that although they are calloused, they are still supple, “I know your name silly. And I know you know that you have been trying. My friends don’t keep things from me.”

“Right, so you’ve just been making me chase after you on purpose.”

“You know, Rafe, you are the one with the name that means counsel of the wolf in Old Norse. I’m starting to see that it is a pretty accurate name.”

“You are just as smart as I thought you were because I have no idea what you mean.”

She finds his honesty cute, “I’m saying that wolves are predators and you have been chasing after me like a pray for weeks.” He likes that she isn’t condescending when she explains the joke to him. “Ahh, I totally understood that. Please, keep blessing me with your wisdom.”

——

Rafe has been talking and texting Y/N for a month now and he is finally convinced they are not going to be caught hanging out together by the other Pogues. This means he is finally going to ask her to go steady with him because he is assured they can go on a date without being caught. She stares at her TV show while his head is resting on her thigh near her stomach. He is between her legs and his focus is on his phone. “Y/N,” he catches her attention. “I want to be your boyfriend.” His tone is practically begging her to say yes. She looks down at him with a soft smile and her fingers lace through his hair. “Rafey, I would love for you to be my boyfriend. But I don’t think there is going to be much of a difference in our relationship,” she confides, twirling his hair between her fingers.

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you can get any more clingy than this, Rafey.”

“True, but there is something I can start craving more than your touch, Baby”

He lifts his head off her thigh and brings himself to hover over Y/N. He gives her a peck before moving in to deepen the kiss. His hands find the buttons of her shirt as he begins kissing his way down her neck. Forget about her laughter, her moans are the most amazing thing he has ever heard.

1K notes · View notes

squiddy-god · 5 months ago

Text

blindfold (giyuu

Ngl I still like this one, this is a re-upload from terminated blog squid-god-supreme, I would like to say that despite the vampire aesthetics I don't bite and you should 100% chat, anon is always on! It honestly motivates me to write and restore more!

CW : smut, fem reader, wife! Reader, angst if you squint a little, piv (probably missing a few but this is old AF)

Giyuu had never really liked himself much, never thought himself good enough. He was shocked when you had said that you felt the same about him, that you loved him back. He often found himself thinking back on that day and smiling, even if only slightly.

But now it had been 2 years together and your anniversary was coming up. Giyuu had surprisingly planned out the entire day for just the two of you. First he’d wake you with gentle kisses so that you could cook together, then hed spend the day by your side, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you as the both of you finally got to relax. He’d take you out for lunch and go back to cuddling with you and in his own way, smothering you in gentle affection. Then finally, when night comes and the sun is long forgotten, he’d get to the part he was most anticipating and also dreading. Sex. You had done it before but it was still something giyuu was ever so slightly insecure about. Being exposed and vulnerable, his emotions on display and his body so intimately entangled with yours was not something that came easily to the water pillar. As much as he loved your beautiful (e/c) eyes, he couldn’t stop the voice in the back of his head telling him that those eyes we’re judging every fiber of his being. Giyuu knew that your (e/c) irises were filled with love and adoration but his insecurity plagued him like a disease. However tonight he had a plan, a simple plan but a plan none the less and he hoped you’d like it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・。.・゜✭・

Feeling giyuus soft lips place a firm kiss to your temple brought a smile to your face. You rolled over in his arms and giggled as you kissed the side of his mouth knowing he was smiling.

“Mmmmm good morning love” You yawned finally opening your eyes to gaze at his cloudy blue irises.

“Good morning” He said pulling you closer to him.

“Happy two years giyuu~” You smiled up at him with nothing but love in your eyes.

Giyuu smiled and kissed the crown of your head. “Happy two years, I love you (y/n)” It was quite, almost a whisper of his normally silent adoration and love.

“Hmmm? Someone’s talkative today” You chuckled teasingly feeling him hide his face in the crook of your neck. “We should get up” He mumbled. You humed in agreement and begrudgingly left the comfort of giyuus arms in favor of makeing breakfast together.

Good, giyuus play was going perfectly so far, but he was still slightly tense. How was he going to bring it up to you, he was racking his brain with a scowl on his face as he cooked alongside you.

“Giyuu? Are you alright? You look tense”

He shook his head and sighed “I’m fine, don’t worry. ” He said as he continued cooking.

“Alright love, but just know you can tell me anything” You gave him a quick peck on his cheek and finishing up breakfast.

After eating the two of you sat in the living room of your shared house. You were in giyuus lap with his arms wrapped around you tightly, you leaned into his chest and played with his long messy hair. You often found yourself like this when you both had the time. Being demon slayers was stressful and if felt nice to simply enjoy a comfortable silence, you knew giyuu stressed and worried when you went on missions, he knew you were more then capable but he didn’t want to lose you. So as often as he could he made shure to give you silent affection, his favorite was being able to hold you in his arms.

Your day had gone great with giyuu, you didn’t expect him to take you out for lunch but it was a welcome surprise. So here you were once again in giyuus lap but something wasn’t quite right giyuu seems tense and unusually fidgety as the sun started to set. Giyuu was getting progressively more anxious and he watched the sun set, he could do this, he fought demons dammit asking his girlfriend something so simple shouldn’t be a problem.

Shifting you slightly so you were straddling him he let one of his calloused hands rest on your hip as the other took it’s place at the back of your head pulling you down for a deep kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and tilted your head to the side to deepen the kiss. Giyuu ran his tongue along your bottom lip asking for entrance. You denied him playfully and smiled when you felt his displeased expression. Relenting you opened your mouth and immediately felt giyuu deepen the kiss exploring your mouth and pressing you further against him. You shifted to grind slightly on giyuus growing hard on. He groaned slightly and pressed back before his hand left your head to grip your thigh. Not breaking the heated kiss he picked you up with ease and carried you your shared bedroom. Laying you down giyuu finally allowed himself to break the kiss.

“I… I want to try something…please” His dark blue eyes looked almost pleading as he stared down at you.

“Hmm? Alright shure… What is it you want to try? ” Wordlessly he got up and moved to retrieve something from his bedside table, giyuu pulled out a small strip of cloth and walked back over to were you now sat on your shared bed. Bringing it up to your eyes he tied the blindfold gently around your head.

“Oh! Is this all you wanted to do giyuu? Haha you seemed so tense~” You teased and brought him in for another kiss.

He wasted no time striping the both of you, and just as he thought, he felt much better with you blindfolded. Giyuu pushed you back onto the beding and begun his asult on your neck and collarbone. He started to trail open mouth kisses along the side of your neck, occasionally nipping and sucking to leave dark red hickys in his wake. One of his rough hands met your chest and squeezed your breast rolling and flicking your bud between his fingers. His trail of kisses and marks continued to get lower and lower until his mouth came to give your other breast some much needed attention. His hand gripped and needed your thighs. You moaned and panted as your fingers tangled in his messy hair.

“Ahh! G-giyuu” You felt his mouth leave your breast and return to your neck as he no doubt left another deep red mark. His lips met yours once again and swallowed your breathy moans. You squeak as you feel his calloused thumb rub circles on your clit. You felt him nip at your ear and another finger run along your dripping entrance. Dipping in one of his fingers another soon followed. You moaned and squirmed beneath him as his finders curled and ran along your walls. He continued to work your dripping cunt before adding another finger and stretching you out as gently as he could. You felt extra sensitive because of the blind fold blocking once of your senses and even though you couldn’t see, you could feel giyuus intense gaze watch as his fingers delved in and out of you, now covered in your arousal and slick. You wined slightly when he removed his digits from your acheing core, but this was short lived when you felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance. Finally giyuu slowly pushed himself into you, buried up to the Hilt he groaned as he felt your walls squeeze around him. He waited a moment for you to adjust before he felt you hips buck slightly, a silent que to move. He pulled out almost all the way, just until the tip of his length was still inside of you, before he slammed back into you going as deep as he could and pressing you into the bed slightly. Your back arched and you moaned his name like a prayer and his relentless pace continued. It was slightly faster then normal, as he hamered into you. You felt your stomach grow hot and a knot form in the pit of your gut the more giyuus deep thrust rubed against your walls. Low grunts and the occasional groan were muffled against your neck and shoulder as giyuu attempted to silence his growing moans by leaving a trail of marks and open mouthed kisses. You assumed his left arm was holding him up as your legs wrapped around his waist. His right hand whent down to rub and play with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“F-fuck giyuu! Ahh! S-so close” You moaned out feeling the knot in your stomach tighten and threaten to snap, and by the twitching of his cock giyuu was close behind you.

You couldn’t form sentences anymore, attempting to speak only lead to moans and choked out syllables of his name as his pace continued. He was close as well, his cock twitched inside you at the feeling of your soft walls clenching squeezeing his length as though it was trying to pull him deeper into you. He felt your legs spasm as shake around his waist as your pussy squeezed him tight, pushing himself into you as deep as he could he felt your juices flow around his throbbing member and soon thick ropes of cum were shot deep inside of you. Giyuu gave a rather loud groan at the feeling of filling you.

Giyuu was still hard inside you when he pull out. You could feel his cloudy eyes burn holes into your dripping sex as he watched his seed leek out of you. You squirmed under his intense gaze and felt him lean down to your ear.

“Hmm? You seem eager tonight? Is it that you like not being able to see? ” He asked, but before you could awnser touch were flipped over onto all fores with your ass in the air. Giyuu made sure to tighten the blindfold before threading his fingers through your hair and pushing you down so your back was arched. You let out a wine and heard giyuu give a low groan.

“You’re so good to me (y/n), you’re mine. I love you” His voice was a low whisper as he pressed his still hard shaft into your dripping entrance.

You tried to move your hips back to cause more friction but giyuus strong hands held you firm in place. Once again pulling out almost all the way he pushed back into you hitting far deeper then before. His pace continued with deep rough thrust just above an average pace, you were still a moaning mess as the slight curve of his shaft hit the warm spongy spot deep in your core. You cried out his name in breathy moans as he began picking up speed, he started grinding up slightly when his thrusts connected with your lush backside. His grinding on your sensitive bundle of nerves had you unraveling beneath his toned arms. Tears slightly stained the blindfold from over stimulation as your legs started shaking, drawing close to another climax.

Giyuus thrusts continued to gain speed as his composer slipped, his breath was becoming more and more ragged as he continued to pound into you, his hands griping the soft flesh of your ass and thighs tightly. A low but rather loud moan emited from giyuus throat as he felt heat coil in his stomach sending hot throbbing pulses through his cock. Your soft wet walls cluched onto his length and your body shaked from the pleasure that ripped through you. With a few more deep thrust into your quivering cunt giyuu sheathed himself in side of you as deep he could before hot ropes of cum stuffed you full. He panted and caught his breath for a second before pulling out and laying you on top of him.

It was quite for a long moment, nothing but your ragged breaths and the sound of giyuus heart beat. It was quick and rapid in his chest, almost like it was trying to break free from its hold within his chest. Strong arms wrapped around your waist as he gently removed the blind fold. He brought you closer to him and encased your lips in a passionate kiss, when he pulled away there was a faint smile on his face. His eyes were unusually soft as he looked at you with nothing but love and respect in his dark blue eyes.

“I love you (y/n), so, so, so much. Please, never leave my arms. Don’t leave me. ” The last sentence came out as a almost silent whisper. You smiled down at him and let your head rest on his chest.

“Hmm, wouldn’t dream of it Tomioka, I love you. ”

#giyu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka #kny giyuu #demon slayer giyuu #giyuu x reader #kimetsu giyuu #giyuu smut #kny #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #kny smut

392 notes · View notes

cripplecharacters · 8 months ago

Text

The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media

[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]

If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?

Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.

Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:

If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.

The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.

The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.

Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.

With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.

Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...

Why It Sucks

[large text: Why It Sucks]

It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it.

Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.

Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?

Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.

Perpetuating disfiguremisia.

"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk

[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]

It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.

Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred.

Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.

It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.

*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.

When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.

Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic.

It doesn't have to be.

Questions to Ask Yourself

[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]

Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.

Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.

You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.

The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.

Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?

I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.

Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?

Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?

Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?

Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?

And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?

Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?

If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up.

Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?

Why not “normal”?

Question four: why did you make the character the way they are?

Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.

Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?

Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?

Question six: why is your character wearing a mask?

Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?

For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.

How do you feel?

F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]

[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]

As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns.

“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.

“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.

“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.

“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.

"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.

“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it.

"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.

“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.

"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.

Closing Remarks

[large text: Closing Remarks]

I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.

With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.

Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.

And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.

I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)

Mod Sasza

#mod sasza #disfiguremisia #face difference #mask trope #writing trope #writing resource #writing reference #writing resources #writing advice #writeblr #writing tips #long post #burn survivor representation

482 notes · View notes

amorvincitomnia-claire · 6 months ago

Text

"Forgotten Anniversary" – Diluc, Genshin Impact

Pairing/Characters: [ Diluc x GN!Reader ]

Tags: Angst, (married) established relationship, hurt/comfort, neglect, alcohol (slight)

Word Count: 1.3k words

Summary: “You forgot about our anniversary again, do we even matter to you anymore?” – Imagine Diluc as your husband of 4 years. He’s never failed to celebrate your anniversaries when you two started dating; always giving you gifts, doing anything to make you happy on your special day – But he hasn’t done any of that for the past two years, does it even matter to him anymore?

a/n: I'm sorry for taking so long to post! This is my very first posted fic so I'm a bit nervous but I had a lot of fun writing this <33 I'll be posting some prompts to better help some requests soon! I'll also post more works soon <33 (hopefully)

also i'm very much aware of the stark contrast of this post to my blog's aesthetic (and im sorry) but it's diluc so here we are

⊱┊ ·˚ ༘ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ + ꒰ request guide ꒱ !!

Imagine being married to the wealthiest man in Mondstadt, Diluc Ragnvindr. In the past, before your marriage, he would always celebrate your anniversary. You had always felt that it was a special day, and he made sure to pamper you with all his affection and love, and especially with gifts. He was a wealthy man, and he could afford to spoil you with numerous expensive gifts.

Thinking of anniversaries with Diluc always produced the same things in your mind: expensive jewelry, fine wine, beautiful roses, and the most affectionate man you’ve ever met. It was his way of celebrating the day, as it was another year added to your love for one another. He had always assured you that the day would always be special to him, and he would forever be grateful for the bond and love the two of you shared.

As time passed, a few years after the marriage, the two of you started to be more independent and occupied with your own lives, especially with Diluc and his busy winery. His business grew and required more of his time, stealing away the hours he could’ve shared with his spouse. He was often stressed and exhausted with work, so when he came back to his chambers where his wife waited, he had no energy for anything other than rest.

You noticed this early, two years into the marriage. His winery was growing, and he gradually became busier, spending less time with you at night and even less time with you during the day. On a good day, he might be able to eat breakfast with you. When you were lucky, he might even have the time to have dinner with you. But that was it, right? You couldn’t help but feel lonely, going to bed alone as he came home at later hours. When he was home early, he did nothing but sleep. And on your first, then second wedding anniversaries, his gifts and celebrations were significantly less than before. A flower bouquet left for you and given to you by the maid, or a few boxes of gifts left for you on the bed in the morning. At the time, you decided that it was better to understand him. You knew that he was a busy man, and you couldn’t blame him for the lack of thought. Still, you felt neglected.

Then the day of your third wedding anniversary came. It was clear now that he was a busy man, with very little time to spare for himself — so you were going to take things into your own hands. You wore the black dress he had bought for you a few years back, decorated the bedroom with flowers, and had written a love letter for him, sealed with an elegant red wax seal. Two wine bottles and two wine glasses were set out for the two of you. You had told him about your plans a few nights back, when you waited for him to come home. He had told you that he would surely be there, and promised to make time for his beloved wife. There you were, sitting patiently in the quiet confines of your shared bedroom, waiting for your husband to arrive. The clock went on and eventually ticked past midnight. He didn’t arrive. You tried to understand him, but the feeling of loneliness and neglect weighed heavily on you. Tears unknowingly streamed down your cheeks as you took off your makeup and jewelry. You took one bottle of wine, skipping the glass and drinking straight from it. One bottle of wine emptied within the hour, and then the next bottle.

You woke up to urgent apologies from Diluc, and he showered you with kisses and pleas of forgiveness. He muttered an excuse here and there, and told you that he would make up for it and never forget about your anniversary again. You tried to understand him. He was your husband, and you knew of his stress and hardships in his job, as well as his passion and determination to keep his business up and going. You forgave him now, but the bitter feeling of neglect still lingered.

The fourth wedding anniversary quickly came by. Even you had started to get used to the decline in celebration, and almost forgot as well. The bitter feelings remained, and you planned not to do anything for the special day. It was a petty retort, but it was all that you could do against your husband. After all these hardships, you still loved him, and he still loved you— at least that’s what you felt.

The fourth wedding anniversary arrived, and so far no sign of celebration nor gifts from your spouse. You looked around, almost desperately trying to find a sign that he had remembered at the very least. It was bad enough that you woke up alone on your anniversary. The day progressed to afternoon, then to dusk, then to night. You had given up on waiting for him. He forgot again, you were sure of it.

The rain poured heavily and loudly outside, drowning out the sounds of your sobbing. It was cold, and you wore one of his shirts as an attempt to comfort yourself. It was pathetic, you thought to yourself. The clock ticked past 9 pm, and yet there was still no sign of your husband. Several deafening thoughts circled through your head over and over again. Did he not promise? Was there something going on at work? Was his work more important than his spouse? Did the day not matter to him anymore?

You curled up on your bed with your head between your knees, letting the rain drown out the thoughts from your mind. You hadn’t noticed the creak of the door as it opened, as your husband came walking in.

As the door creaked open, Diluc stepped into the room, his expression a mix of guilt and concern. He rushed forward, his voice filled with apologies, but you couldn't bring yourself to listen. You were tired— tired of the excuses, tired of the neglect, tired of feeling like an afterthought in his busy life.

"You've forgotten about our anniversary again," you hissed, your voice trembling with pent-up frustration. "Do we even matter to you anymore?"

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the growing discord between you. Diluc's eyes widened in shock, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words to say. But before he could respond, you continued.

"I've tried to be understanding, Diluc. I've tried to support you, to be patient. But how much longer am I supposed to wait? How much longer am I supposed to pretend like it's okay to be forgotten?"

Your chest tightened with emotion, tears threatening to spill as you poured out your frustrations. Diluc stood before you, his usual stoic demeanor crumbling under the weight of your words.

"I-I didn't mean to," he finally whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of rain against the windows. "Work has been overwhelming, and I lost track of time. But that's no excuse, I know." His admission only fueled your anger. "I'm tired, Diluc," you admitted, your voice breaking as you finally let down your walls. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm not enough. I'm tired of feeling like you don’t value our anniversary anymore. Like you don’t value our marriage!" For a moment, there was silence between you, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. "I'm so sorry, my love. I know I've let you down, but please...please don't give up on us."

His words pierced through the haze of your anger, reaching deep into your heart. And in that moment, you knew that despite everything, despite the pain and the hurt, you still loved him.

"I won't give up on us," you whispered, your voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the storm outside. "But we need to talk, Diluc. We need to figure this out together."

You wrapped your arms around each other. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. For in the midst of the storm, you found solace in each other's arms.

I hope I did well <33

Prompts list soon! Feel free to give some requests <3

⊱┊ ·˚ ༘ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ + ꒰ request guide ꒱ !!

#reqs open #requests open #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #genshin diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc angst #genshin angst #angst #x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x you

387 notes · View notes

teaboot · 6 months ago

Note

I have a question for u

It is maybe a very cliché question but I am sincerely looking for the answer because it feels like most other people know it and just I don’t understand

So here we go: what differentiates love from friendship?

I can recognize friendship. All explanations given to me what others told me makes the distinction to loving someone (romantically?) didn’t make sense to me mostly because it always included some people that fall into the definition of friends

So yeah.. I’m having difficulty with relationships (apparently)

Thank u for ur thought! Ur blog always brings me happiness!

I hope u have a wonderful day with some quiet time to watch the fluffy creature

-🥬

Personal opinion?

Friendship is love. Love is friendship. Kissing is friendship and holding hands is love. Sex is friendship and washing laundry is love.

I've had crushes on people I'd never want to date. I have friends I'd be comfortable kissing. I don't think I've ever been attracted to sexually, but there are people I think are beautiful who make my heart race. I don't know if I've ever felt romantic attraction, but there are people I want to spend my life with, and others I'd rather admire from a distance, and others I want nothing to do with.

I think that honestly, really, words like "Husband", "Wife", "Partner", "Friend", "Queerplatonic", "Soulmates", "Life Partner"... I think they're useful tools to describe specific experiences, more than they are rigid boxes to sort and divide our experiences into.

I'm not sure if I understand tge difference between platonic affection, aesthetic attraction, romance, and friendship, but I find my best relationships so far have been, "We like being around each other, and we work together to find what kind of intimacy we want from each other".

Sometimes that intimacy is physical, like kissing or sparring. Sometimes it's emotional, like sharing feelings. Sometimes it's just good, quiet company, or doing things together.

I can't speak for your own experiences, but in mine, idk. Just kinda letting things happen.

(It is hard when you feel lonely, though, and don't know how to describe to most of the world what it is you want.)

Long post, but uh. Same boat, I suppose?

afraid I don't have a better answer right now, but if anyone else figures it out, I'd love to know.

Thanks for the ask, and I hope you're having a great day too!! ♡

372 notes · View notes

endlessthxxghts · 10 months ago

Text

Liquid Gold

Frankie Morales x afab!reader || W/C: 2.7k (a oneshot)

Summary: Frankie gets turned on by your love for caramel. (Read a tiny continuation of these two here, titled Comfortable!)

Content/Warnings: Pics above are for aesthetic purposes only. No physical descriptions of reader, everything is neutral. I am in fact a nonbinary girly who describes their coochie with she/her pronouns LMFAO, and both you and Frankie do that here. Feminine pet names (querida, cariño, sweet girl). You also really love caramel - like a lot. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Inappropriate use of caramel. Food play. Kitchen sex. Hickey/marking kink. Lots of tongue action. Breast worship. Cunnilingus (He's Frankie the munch, what can I say?). Fingering/finger fucking. P in V unprotected sex. Creampie... hint of a breeding kink (I'll be tame with it.. for now..). Frankie, the aftercare KING!! (Please let me know if I've missed anything xoxo.)

A/N: I was eating caramel and apples, and I couldn't stop groaning at the sweetness LMFAOOO I really fucking love caramel. Then I got horny and started thinking about Frankie. Don't we love the ways inspiration strikes? Hope you enjoy my delulus. Much love, my babies.

MASTERLIST || NOTIFS BLOG

“Mmm,” you moan. “So fucking good,” you mutter to yourself, licking the tips of your fingers to clean the residue.

“...Querida?” Frankie calls out from the living room. “What are you, uh…” he pauses to take a deep breath in and out, his cock stirring at the faint lewd noises coming from the kitchen. “What are you doing, baby?”

“Mmm,” you hum again in delight before responding back to him. “Nothing, baby, just grabbing a snack, I’ll be right there,” you say.

Okay, his curiosity is definitely getting the better of him. He rises from his place on the couch, and nothing would prepare him for what his eyes were about to witness.

You’re leaning over the counter, a plate below you with neatly cut apple slices, and you have a bottle of caramel in one hand. Your other hand is placed underneath the spout as you squeeze a dollop onto your finger, the thick liquid running down your digit before you have a chance to stop it. You quickly bring your finger into your mouth, your eyes fluttering shut at the sweetness, another delicious vibration escaping your throat.

Frankie literally has to perch himself against the nearest wall to stop his knees from buckling. He knows how much you love your caramel, but he forgets just how much. The thud of his broad body against the wall is what forces your eyes open.

“Oh,” you gasp with a smile. “Hi, baby. Did you want some?” You ask him, sucking your finger once more for good measure, not wanting to make a mess at your impulse decision of practically drinking the sugary substance from its bottle.

You watch as his eyes track your finger’s movement, his gaze coming back up to linger on your lips for an extra moment. “N-no, that’s okay, querida,” he replies, distracted.

You tilt your head in response, trying to gauge where his thoughts are right now. Then, you look down.

Oh.

He’s thinking with his other head.

You break away from your side of the counter, caramel still in hand, and you make your way in front of him. Putting your body flush against his, you put your free hand on his chest, reaching for his chin with your thumb and forefinger. “You sure you don’t want any, baby?” You ask him, voice teasingly smooth. You nudge his mouth open; his tongue flattening out immediately for you. “Just give it a little try, it’s so sweet.”

You let the caramel dribble onto his tongue, and he retreats the muscle back inside when he thinks you’re done squeezing, but you don’t stop, letting it drip onto his pouty bottom lip. Your thumb is quick to run over it, not giving his tongue a chance to clean the mess you made.

Before he knows it, you’re pulling his mouth into yours, your tongue briefly darting around your thumb before you’re sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, nearly dropping the bottle of caramel with how addicting your senses are being consumed.

His response is just as quick, his arms snaking around your waist and backing you into the edge of the counter, pushing himself deeper into your mouth as your tongues overlap each other. The hand on his jaw is now wrapped tightly in his brown curls, keeping his mouth messily against yours.

You feel his hands tap against the bottom of your ass cheeks, and you take the hint. Settling the bottle down, you pull yourself up on the counter. Finally, the kiss breaks, but now he’s reaching for the hem of your top, flinging it over your head, letting it land only God knows where.

Frankie’s crowding your space, looking down at you, his chocolate brown eyes now pure black with lust. “Can I have another taste, querida?” He rasps into your mouth.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, your mind too turned on to register what he’s really asking. His hand is on the bottle instantly, squeezing a thick line of caramel across your naked chest. You choke on your breath at the sensation, your eyes fixated on the golden liquid starting to drip down, nearly reaching your nipples.

Frankie takes a step back to admire his work before he’s diving right in, the caramel bottle tossed back onto the counter as his hands find their home on your ass, pulling your hips into his as you lean back, giving him the space he needs to lick up his mess.

You feel his teeth softly graze the tops of your breasts, Frankie sucking with just the right amount of pressure for pretty little fireworks to ignite across your chest.

“Oh, fuck, Frankie-” you moan, eyes rolling back at the feeling. “Didn’t know- shit- didn’t know caramel is what does it for you,” you say with a weak smirk, your last few words higher in pitch than normal.

“It doesn’t,” he retorts, his tongue flicking across your nipple. “You do,” he growls, reaching for your other candy-glazed nipple.

Between your legs are fucking drenched, and fuck, he feels so good attached to your chest like this, but you need more—she needs more.

You’re yanking Frankie’s curls, pulling him off of you to look into his eyes—wild and desperate, he’s looking at you—his lips and chin glistening with a shine only sugar could provide. Fuck, you want that mouth somewhere else. You tell him as such. A cheeky grin spreads across his face. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he says leaning back in, kissing each breast for good luck before he reaches for the caramel once more, letting another thick drop fall down your sternum and belly, daring to drip in places it shouldn’t.

He follows the caramel’s path, open-mouthed kisses surfing down your torso, his tongue not letting any of it go to waste.

The lower he goes, the needier you become. “Please- please, baby- need you,” you heave, your head falling back between your shoulder blades at the overwhelming fire roaring between your legs.

“Paciencia, mi amor,” he whispers, kissing where the hem of your bottoms meets your tummy. “You’ve got me, cariño.”

His fingers reach for your bottoms, pulling them down swiftly as you raise yourself up to make it an easy removal.

Wasting no time, his mouth is kissing hotly on your mound, his tongue swirling your pubic area as your hips buck further into his face. He drags his mouth lower, a shiny trail of his sweet saliva coating every inch of you as he brings your throbbing bundle of nerves into his mouth and sucks—a near pornographic wail reverberates the kitchen walls, your back nearly giving way if it wasn’t for your other hand being planted onto the countertop.

“Jesus- Fuck, Frankie, oh my God, ohmyGod-” you pant, your chest rising and falling at an erratic rate as his mouth never stops its assault on your clit. One of his hands makes their way towards your entrance, Frankie’s two middle fingers surfing through your wetness before he prods inside with ease, his fingers always filling you up in a way your own fingers never could.

He curves his fingers just right, hitting your release button, forcing your floodgates open with absolutely no warning. “F-fuck, fuck! Fuck, baby, I’m cumming, oh, fuck, mmm just like that- shit-”

He pulls his mouth off of you, pulling away just enough to watch as you cream all over his fingers—your caramel dripping down his fingers as his mouth positively waters at the sight. “Jesus, hermosa,” Frankie breathes, his hot breaths fanning across your center sending an aftershock of shivers down your spine.

His fingers come to a halt, slowly slipping out of you as his eyes remain fixated at the sight. “Tan perfecta, mi amor,” he says mindlessly. You watch with bated breath to see what he does next.

He brings his fingers up to his mouth, eyes slowly rolling into the back of his head as he licks his fingers clean, practically purring at the way you taste. You whimper at the sight, an entire new wave of arousal leaks from your sex—crying again, for more.

“Frankie,” you whine.

For a second, Frankie genuinely got lost in your taste, forgetting everything around him but the way your flavor sits so addictingly across his taste buds. He could spend forever drinking from you if he could. “Lo siento, cariño, lo siento,” he says, truly apologetic. “You just taste so fucking good, I can’t help myself,” his inflection turning desperate in those last few words. He pulls you in for a kiss, a tinge of your own flavor melting onto your tongue. “How do you want me?” he says softly into your lips.

“Inside, Morales. Please,” you whine into his mouth as you reach for the bulge of his sweatpants, your legs spreading open impossibly more, begging him to end whatever coy teasing game you started. “You already made a mess on me,” you tell him. Bringing your mouth to his ear, you whisper: “Now you need to make another one inside.”

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Frankie groans, throwing his head back to contain himself. When he brings his gaze back down to you, you can see the determination behind his eyes. “That’s what you want, huh? Want me inside you? Want me dripping from you all day, huh, my sweet girl?” He’s yanking his sweats down. He steps closer to you, lips a hair’s width away from each other. “Wanna be filled up with my caramel?” He smirks.

That was the dumbest shit you have ever heard, and your facial expression reveals that, yet it has your pussy clenching on nothing. Of course, Frankie catches it. “Oh, yeah, she does,” he says, running his fingers along your seam before he’s guiding the head of his cock into you.

“Oh, God-” you moan, the girth of him is always a stretch no matter how many times he’s been inside you. “So fucking big- fuck-” your fingers digging into the nape of his neck as he pushes himself to the hilt.

His one arm is wrapped behind you, his hand planted on the counter right where your ass sits to keep you steady as he begins to move—pulling completely out with just the tip at your entrance before slamming back inside, sobs pouring from your lips at the pleasurable plain hitting all the right places. “Fuck- so fucking tight,” he grunts, his vein popping out of his neck with every exertion of his hips. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around me, hermosa, shit-”

“Frankie, p-please. T-touch me, k-kiss me, something, please, baby, I-” you plead, both hands reaching for his face now, grasping for his lips to be on yours.

His mouth slams into yours in a bruising embrace, his mouth immediately latching onto your tongue to lap up the sweetness still laced in your spit. He’s groaning into your mouth, hips moving faster, harder—the wet slick of your pussy getting louder with each thrust, putting you both in a lust-filled haze.

His hand snakes to your front, the pads of his fingers finding your clit, giving you the extra push you need to reach your high. “I feel her fluttering, baby, she’s close,” he mutters against you. “Cum for me, mamita, and I’ll fucking fill you up, baby, come on.”

“Oh, fuck- yes, baby, oh God-!” you’re screaming, eyes clamped shut and head thrown back as you soak his cock, nearly pushing him out of you with the force of your release.

“Mierda- just like that, fuck-” Frankie moans, his chest heaving as he struggles to keep himself from finishing just yet, reveling in the sight of you fall apart around him.

His hips have slowed, giving you a moment of breath, but you’re not having it. Your hips start to move on their own accord, wrapping your legs around Frankie’s waist as you buck your hips into him, whining for him to move, for him to fuck you, for him to-

“Fucking cum inside me, Fish.”

Fish.

That brings him to attention immediately—his hips that were once meeting your every push and pull, now stuttering as his release covers every inch of your walls. You smile wide at the full feeling inside of you even as he begins to soften and slip out of you.

The room is filled with both of your heavy breathing, your gaze stuck on your man as he watches his cum start to leak from your used hole.

“Christ, baby,” he breathes, his fingers collecting the spend dripping out of you only to bring it back to your opening, slowly pushing his fingers inside. Your body, now reaching oversensitivity, jerks at the feeling, a small whimper leaves your mouth. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Just putting it back where it needs to be,” he tells you with a smirk, your tummy fluttering at his statement.

He’s helping slide you off the counter now, hands gripped tightly on your waist knowing your legs must be pure jelly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, mi amor,” he says softly. “You’re all sticky,” he says in a mock exasperation, as if he wasn’t the reason for this fucking mess.

You slap his chest, rolling your eyes as your feet hit the ground. “If I’m still sticky, it’s because you didn’t do your job properly,” you huff.

He meets your gaze once more, licking his bottom lip before he speaks. “Oh, yeah? Telling me I need to go in one more time?” He asks, leaning in with his tongue out to reach for your chest.

“AGH, NO,” you screech, holding your hands up to keep him away. “Last I checked, I was just trying to eat my apples-” you pause at the realization. “Oh my god, wait!!! My apples!!!” You break from Frankie’s hold, turning to see your plate of sweet, crisp apples—now brown and spoiled. “My apples,” you say softly, your lips jutting out into a frown.

Frankie chuckles behind you, grabbing ahold of your waist as he guides you to the bathroom. “I’ll cut you a new one, sweet girl. Let’s just clean my mess up, yeah?”

“Okay,” you submit.

He runs your favorite soft wash cloth under warm water, adding a drop of your favorite soap to get any stubborn sugar stains. “But, Frankie?”

“Sí, cariño?”

“Leave the mess between my legs.”

“Baby-” he says, slightly concerned not wanting you to get a UTI or anything.

“I’ll go pee,” you cut him off. “Just let me sit in the feeling of you for a little bit. Please?”

“Fine,” he says softly. “But we’re showering after I feed you your apple.”

“After you feed me?” You ask, your cheeks going hot at the tenderness of the gesture.

“Yeah, baby,” he says nonchalantly as he kisses your forehead, wiping around your sensitive center. He hangs the cloth to dry before putting it in the hamper. He grabs one of your favorite comfort shirts from your drawer, putting it on you, before he’s guiding you back to the kitchen.

In the midst of your rabid behavior, neither of you realized that caramel bottle toppled over, long enough for nearly a quarter of the bottle to make its way through.

“MY CARAMEL!” You cry, never wanting to let the universe’s best creation go to waste.

Frankie stifles a laugh, not wanting to upset you but finding your love for caramel so endearing. “Baby, it’s okay, we can buy more,” he comforts, rubbing your back as you freeze at the sight.

“I know,” you say. “I just hate to waste such- such yummy things. This is literally liquid fucking gold,” you add, gesturing to the spilt thick liquid blessing your countertop.

“I thought what was inside of you was your liquid gold?” He says with his soft chocolate puppy eyes, gesturing to your cum-filled pussy.

“Oh my god, Frankie, what-” you start, unsure of whether to laugh or be weirded out at what just came out of his mouth. “Please just cut my apple,” you say defeated, slapping your forehead as your body begins to shake with laughter.

As Frankie peels the skin off your fruit—he knows how much it makes your throat itchy—he mutters something that you couldn’t quite pick up.

“What was that?” You ask again.

“You know I’m right,” he says as he clears his throat, eyes focused on his task. “Your liquid gold isn’t the caramel,” he adds for an unnecessary confirmation.

“Francisco-”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

You stay silent for a moment.

“Shut up.”

He grins triumphantly, squeezing a generous amount of your second favorite liquid gold equivalent all over your juicy apple.

If you enjoyed this, feel free to check out my masterlist or follow my updates blog @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to be notified when new stories come out! I love you all, thank you so much for reading and interacting with me.

Also, please check this post out to see some ways you can educate yourself on how you can help Palestine.

@pedrostories

450 notes · View notes

hypnotic-kink · 7 months ago

Note

Tan lines?:)

100% RANT

Please don't take this personal @builtincalifornia, I'm not directing these comments towards you. I get the ASK, I went on vacation, and I have posted pics of my tan before & bikini pics. I did take some tan line pics and a few full body bikini pics on vacation, I was going to post them, but one super disrespectful guy ruined that request, so no, no tan lines will be posted ... I feel mentally abused after that guy. I also know I post some provocative pics and it can attract the mega pervs (who I end up blocking), I get it, I accept that will happen occasionally, and I can handle most comments. Some will say because I post pics "I'm asking for it," well, that's a bullshit cop out because you can have all the pervy thoughts you want to have, but you're either a decent human being in comments/DMs or not, so that excuse doesn't fly with me. Do better! Show your appreciation in a respectful way! I've gotten good at sidestepping this stuff but now I need to be crystal clear, my pictures give NO ONE the right to message me sexually, make demands, say nasty things and then get pissed when I say no and proceed to call me every name in the book. He's blocked and I will block anyone that displays childish behavior like that in DM or in my comments. If you agree with Him, block me and good riddance. If you think my pics are hot or sexy ...hey then I accomplished what I set out to do! I enjoy getting the aesthetics right on my pics, and that's awesome and I'm flattered when people think I took a great pic. Glad you like them! I also enjoy interacting on comments too, again, nothing wrong with that, newsflash, this is a photography and chat site (not a dating app). If I'm commenting to you that still isn't an open invitation to sexual comments or give anyone the right to have expectations towards me and I'll say most of you guys have been PRETTY AWESOME and I've cleaned out the really degrading ppl that used to make all the crude remarks. My blog IS a NSFW site after all, and I AM allowed to post whatever my little heart desires and let my exhibitionist side out in a safe environment if I chose to, there is NOTHING wrong with that. Don't get it twisted. I'm not here for a hook up, and I'm certainly not here to get you off. No one has the right to demand pictures of me. After 1 1/2 yrs. on this blog, the people I am friends with and do talk to in DM, you're there for a reason .... thank you for knowing my boundaries and respecting them and thank you for your friendship. Yes, women are allowed to have male friends on here, that doesn't mean we are sexting or have a sexual relationship with all of them. I do appreciate and value you. You're the best :)

To the people that want to judge me based off my posting sexy personal pictures. KISS MY ASS, you don't know me. You haven't even tried to know the woman behind the pictures & I don't have to agree with any Dom on his opinion & I certainly don't have to obey demands, from anyone, male, female, Dom or not. I'm sure there are many women who post pics that feel the same way as I do. Am I a sexual person? Absolutely, but I'm also not all about sex, so stop with the assumptions. I'm also a one-on-one relationship kind of women who isn't poly and isn't into multiple guys. So many like to lump all us women who post pics together like we're all sexting everyone in this place, but for me personally, you're wrong. I'm sure there are some men in here that the same assumptions are made too. I am not sexting any man in here and I say that publicly because I know it's the truth. I'm not a whore, a slut, or easy because I post pictures of myself. I'm pretty damn selective and there are many in here that know that and have said perhaps my expectations are even too high. AGAIN, No one owns me in here, I'm not a punching bag for you to hurl derogatory words at if you don't get your way and no one has the right to have any expectations of me, nor send dick pics, and I don't even have to respond to DMs if I choose not to. I'm always nice and polite to people who message, until it's time not to be. Me being polite is also not an invitation to say sexual comments. If I wanted to go down that path, I would, and you would know it. I'm not looking. Also, when men post their own pics, I support them 100%, that does not mean I want to get with them, or I'm perving on them. It takes guts to put yourself out there, for men and women. Men and women support me so why wouldn't I support them?! You guys all rock too! While I'm on a rant, do not, I repeat do NOT ask for more pictures of me if you do message me. READ PROFILES DAMMIT, mines crystal clear. PS: I am far from a prude, just sick of comments that men would never say to me if they were face to face with me in real life.

#yes i'm pissed off #fuck judgemental people #me #hk #rant #venting #take note before you DM me #READ MY PROFILE #PSA about me

242 notes · View notes

thecapricunt1616 · 8 months ago

Text

Allspice (c.b oneshot)

𝐵𝓁𝓊𝓇𝒷 (𝑀𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝐵𝒯𝒞): You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly. Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh. “Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

♡ O.S Inspo: Forever & Always - Fearless (TV) ; "Was I out of line, did I say something way too honest, made you run and hide like a scared little boy?" ♡ Pairing : CarmyxAFAB Reader as little physical description possible | She/Her pronouns used, NO use of Y/N :) ♡ Summary: You have a very successful Culinary Review blog, the social media manager of one of your new hometown restaurants 'The Bear' has been dying to get you out to try their food. But since the EC is a bit of an overzealous competitor, you end up having to go back for round 2- you end up having a delicious dinner, and a free show.

♡ W/C: 4,381

♡ Posted Date: 03/18/24

♡ A/N: FIRST THING: I am HORRIDDDD at writing Claire- I'm much better at writing Carmy cause were alot more similar- so this Claire isn't gonna be CRAZY canon, but I think she got the job done. Anyway- EEEEEP!!! Here is my VERY FIRST ONE SHOT EVER!! Inspired by my amazing, wonderful, PRECIOUS FLOWER @daysofyellowroses that can be found here :) AAAAA!!! My precious Rose I hope you enjoy this, It could ABSOLUTELY have a part 2 if y'all like it. I ended it here cause I'm sooo wordy and I didn't want it to turn in to a multi-chap. fic by mistake...but ofc if y'all want more just tell me and ill get RIGHT TO WORK!!! I really hope this comes off how I saw it in my head. There's no smut/sexy stuff, just mutual pining and flirty teasing, I hope thats ok!! aaa here we goooo!!! Enjoy <3

♡ Warnings for BTC: Swearing, Drinking alcohol (Literally it LOL)

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

Being a Food Critic wasn’t an easy gig, as much as people wanted to believe it’s simply going to famous restaurants, trying their most popular dishes- and giving your opinion, it was much more then that.

Each and every aspect of the restaurant was under your review, from the second you walked in the door, you were judging everything. From the atmosphere, to the music, to the decor, to the comfortability of the furniture all of it, was to meet your expectations if the owner of the establishment wanted a good review.

Today was finally the day you'd review one of the restaurants that had sent 3 requests for you to feature a review of them on your blog.

The Bear. Interesting name, you thought.

With the rugged name- you’d assumed a more millennial hipster-New American vibe. But when you’d arrived- you were quite…impressed? That instead of leaning into that all too common aesthetic, it was more of a classy, comfortable vibe.

They’d not even had bear art, anything of the sort. It was pure comfort, mixed with subtle class. The kind that spoke to the cost of the dishes- but wasn’t in your face obnoxious. The only ‘Bear’ was the little golden bear embossed into the leather menu you’d been handed when seated at the table.

The way you did your reviews was…a tad unusual - some chefs in the industry called it ‘unfair’ but you called it…the fairest things could be. Instead of telling them when you’d be swinging by for a review since where’s the fun in that you’d call, make a reservation under some random name, and they’d know you’d accepted their offer when the review had been posted on your blog.

It felt most honest and fair because you were one of the most renowned food critics in the country right now. If they knew you were coming- any EC with a brain would spend the night before your arrival, prepping the entire restaurant and staff - assuring they’d be on their best behavior to try and squeeze a higher grade out of you.

But you were just a reader once upon a time, years ago- when you realized in culinary school that the making of the art didn’t interest you, it was the observing. Food wasn’t just about taste, but rather the whole experience. And if every famous food critic you’d taken interest in back in the day- never got a true experience due to their notability? You’d never have gotten into this field. So, you were most keen on keeping things fair.

A woman with mousey brown hair comes up to your table, dressed in the typical waitress slacks and black button up shirt. “Hello! Welcome to The Bear. My name is Sam, have you dined with us before?” she asks.

You sit up in your chair, peeling your eyes from the menu. You give her a small kind smile “I haven’t” you replied, urging her to continue her script.

“Well welcome in, we're so happy you chose to spend your evening with us. So for our menu” she opens it in front of you. “Here” she points “are our wine options, fabulous selection this month. Then we have draft beers right next to it. On the following page” she points “all of our craft cocktails, then this,” she points in the bottom corner.

“Our house cocktail - Just called The Bear. It’s wonderful, if you like old fashions you’ll love this - made with Bearface Triple Oak Whiskey.” She said and you nod.

“That please. That’s what I’ll start with” you said and she nodded.

“I’ll get that right in. But quickly, just so you’re aware” she flipped the page and pointed.

“These - are the dishes of the month. Each crafted by one of our two head chefs, they change monthly so if something calls to you I recommend you try- because it won’t be back” she said. You raised your eyebrows a bit in surprise and nod.

“Thank you” you said and she gives a nod before heading off to the bar to put in your drink order before heading off to tend to other tables in your section.

Having an alternating menu intrigued you, for such a high end establishment- one with a Michelin star at that- implementing such a menu would consistently have their star at risk. One dish, one app, one drink- that was not up to par and it would be revoked. You guessed the owners of this place liked living on the edge, as if being in this industry wasn’t already being constantly on edge.

You gaze over the menu, the Chilean Seabass sounded like a fair assessment. Seafood was quite difficult to get right, especially in the springtime before peak season, and you’d be able to judge the consistency of the chopping and such because there was a fresh tomato corn salad that came with it. That was your rule when you came to judge restaurants, one main course, and one dessert.

You’d felt like the main courses were the true stars of the show anyhow, and it would be unfair to muck up your palate with an app that was usually something easy to get right (since they were usually fried, covered in cheese, or some kind of carb). And the dessert usually showed the restaurant's creativity, which you loved to see, so 2 dishes was your max.

The waitress returns with the cocktail, setting it down with a napkin under it. “Here you are, now- have you decided on a starter?” She questioned and you shook your head.

“Straight to the good stuff, I’d like the Chilean Sea Bass please. And for dessert,” you flick the page and your eyes settle on the words savory cannoli - hmm, imaginative indeed. “And uh- The Michael Cannoli?” You said, shutting the menu and handing it to her.

She nods with a smile, jotting down the order into her notepad before taking the menu and holding it to her chest. “That will be out soon as possible. Enjoy your drink” she said and headed back to the kitchen.

You sit back sipping the cocktail and humming. She was right, much like an old fashioned, but floral notes. Almost…chamomile? Yes! That was it. Very interesting.

You slipped your iPad out of your bag, opening up your journaling app and grabbing the pencil out of the little sleeve. You quickly snapped a picture with your phone of the drink, airdropping it to yourself and adding it into the entry and writing;

‘To start; ‘The Bear’ house cocktail- initial thoughts ; not too sweet, strong (but not overpowering), chamomile? Some kind of herbal tea flower’

You take another sip, letting the flavors sit on your tongue a moment before swallowing. “Mmm!” You hum to yourself, finally realizing where the herby taste beneath the chamomile was coming from that gave it that oaky piney taste.

‘Angostura bitters- will confirm!!’ You wrote just as someone approaches your table. You look up to see a man, short brown hair, stubble. He was smiling, holding a plate.

“Hello! Here we have Arancini with our house-made pesto, courtesy of Executive Chef Carmen” he placed the dish in front of you next to your iPad. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly, looking up at him, scarcel confused.

“Wrong table” you murmured, thumbing the dish back in his direction lightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Nope- ah, he- he said this table.” He replied. It did smell fantastic, and any other day you’d never deny delicious, deep fried balls of risotto dipped in smooth, decedent pesto- but you’re working right now and it’s not fair.

“Well, you can tell him” you lifted the dish, offering it back. “I have a system. And I’m unsure how he realized that I’m coming here, tonight, but I dislike cheaters. And he should know if he’s read my blog- I don’t muck up my palate with grease before I try the main course.” The plate was so close to him now it was nearly digging into his chest.

He nodded quickly, taking the plate without another word and briskly walking back to the kitchen. You sat back in your seat with a slight scoff.

He thinks he can win you over just like that? How did he even know you would be here?

You picked up your pencil once again, adding a note.

For the chef; Arancini smelt delicious. Didn’t order it, so I didn’t taste it . Presentation wise; 7/10. Pesto looked like it was spooned in the dish a tad bit messy to me.

You smiled to yourself, you knew he’d read the final review once it was posted. And since he wanted to be a little cheater and get a overall higher score since he was trying to weasel you into trying extra dishes- you’d kick his ego down a few extra pegs for fun.

You sat, nursing your drink, adding extra little notes here and there, as well as editing a blog post about Ghost Kitchens you’d been working on and how they were ruining the mobile order industry on the side. You were so engrossed in the work, that you hadn’t even realized someone had approached your table until they cleared their throat awkwardly.

Your gaze slowly travels up, seeing a blue apron covering a white shirt, tattooed hands holding- your meal? Your eyes flicker up to his piercing blue ones. “Chilean Sea Bass” he sets it in front of you. You snort a laugh.

“Hm.” You look around before back at him “These people” you motion to the restaurant. “Other patrons. Which meals of theirs did you bring out- Chef?” You accentuate the last word, it was all too uncommon for a chef to personally bring a meal out to a table.

You swore even in the ambient lighting, his cheeks flushed slightly. “You- uh- you declined, my Arancini. Why?” He asked, holding his hands behind his back, the position making his already toned and tattooed arms appear more muscular. It makes him all the more impressive he has all these tattoos and still made it in this industry. I can only imagine the shit he got for them.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his boldness. “Because that’s Cheating. Mr.Berzatto. I’d assume you know my work well. Considering you know what I look like, so- why try to cheat? You know how I feel about appetizers. It’s a scapegoat.” You shrugged, locking your iPad when you realized he’d been peeking at the notes.

“Messy” his eyes narrow. He scoffs a bit, alluding to the note you’d written a short while prior “Messy?” He asks again, you laugh a bit.

“Mmhmm! Oh, was it you chef? Wow…I mean- now that I think about it” you shook your head, now just messing with him since you see how much he was dying to impress you. “I could’ve sworn- the pesto it just..was too loose. Overblended maybe? That’s why it was impossible to plate without making a mess.” You shrugged, cutting up your fish carefully and spreading the vegetables with your knife to observe the cohesivity of the cuts.

He scoffs, “too- too loose?! W-y’know what. No. No. It- you’re gonna try it.” He demands and you look up at him, nearly laughing at the seriousness of his tone.

“That depends. Bring me a pesto worth trying and I’ll think about it. Now” you wave him off casually “I can’t work with the chef over my shoulder. So- Shoo chef don’t bother me” you teased and he shook his head.

“Game on.” He muttered, heading back to the kitchen.

You smiled to yourself, the Arancini absolutely isn’t going into the review. But you’ll humor his ego by trying it.

You cut the fish thoroughly, checking the texture and the evenness of the seasonings slathered on the skin, writing little notes as you go along. The cuts of the vegetables were pristine. Nearly perfect. The only misshapen pieces were clearly cosmetic defects of the vegetable. The chef that cut these was immaculate with a knife.

When you took your first bite, you nearly moaned. The fish was buttery, the skin was crispy, slightly spicy, tangy, the flesh melted in your mouth. The risotto was so cheesy and buttery and wonderful. You could eat this meal every night for the rest of your life and never get sick of it. It was the best Sea bass you’d ever tasted.

You opened your iPad again, jotting down notes about the flavors, the mouth feel, all the usual points you hit in your review.

This meal is a 9.2 out of 10.

You write at the bottom. Very fair score, you never had rated something as a 10. Something being a 10 would be- you don’t even know what it would be. But it would be what the score says, perfection. And while this dish was wonderful, and very very good- it was not perfect. At least to your heavily trained palate.

You finished what you wanted out of the meal, pushing the plate to the side and not soon after, Carmen was back at your table. He placed the plate in front of you, 3 perfectly circular Arancini discs were placed equal distance on the plate, and truly beautiful pesto, sat in the dish alongside it. It frankly was immaculately plated.

“Unbroken pesto. Sorry again, about the last one.” He said, watching you carefully. You hum as you grab your fork, splitting one of the discs and digging out some of the risotto.

“Could be firmer.” You said, eyes flicking to his. He nods, clearing his throat a bit.

“It’s not- uh- it’s”

“Fresh” you finished for him, raising your brows and he nods. “So- since you’re frying it. You cook it for about..a minute- maybe forty seconds less than you usually would.” You said, daintily taking the bite off your fork.

“Heard..” he nodded, waiting for your reaction. You hummed a bit.

“Great balance of parm and butter though. I’ll give you that. Neither overpowers the other, that’s hard to do considering the notes” you added, cutting up the crust and tasting it.

“Mm-“ you scrunch your nose and his face visibly drops. “Mm-mm…no- not peanut oil…why would you do that? It totally overpowers the breadcrumb with this like…cheapy taste. I’d say it would be way better if you fried it in sunflower oil” you added, digging out more of the risotto and dipping it in the pesto before having a bite and humming.

“This though” you point at the little dish of green sauce with your fork. “This is great.” You add and he nods.

“Ok-yeah…ok…” he nods, rubbing his hand over his chin. “Thank y’for trying it.” He said and you nod.

“I’ll be back for a fair assessment. I think I’ll pass on the cannoli tonight, and just get the bill. Thank you” you slipped your pencil in the case before putting your iPad in your bag and holding your hands on the table in front of you.

“Y-y’re coming back” he said, sounding slightly surprised.

You shrugged “well- you clearly want a full review based on your behavior tonight, Chef. So I’ll humor you. I won’t tell you when of course, so just pray that it’s a day like today-“ you paused, looking around. “Where things seem to be running…alright.” You sat back in your chair casually with a small smile.

“I look forward to your review.” He gave a nod and headed back to the kitchen.

It was 3 weeks before you’d decided to return back to The Bear spring had quickly turned to early summer, and you thought you’d given enough time for your little conversation with the head chef to slip his mind.

It was 9:20, 40 minutes before closing. You did promise to come back at a random time, and no time is more random then a Friday night less than an hour before the kitchen closed.

You pulled open the door, stepped in and headed up to the host stand where the same man that originally offered you the Arancini stood. “The picky critic returns.” He said, tapping his pen against the reservation book absentmindedly.

“She does” you smiled a bit.

“Well lucky f’you cousin said you get a table any time, right this way” he leads you to a booth near the back, where you had a perfect view of the restaurant. Much cozier then before, right next to the doors of the kitchen where you could hear the back of house crew buzzing about.

“Same cocktail as last time?” He asked and you raised your brows in slight surprise as you sit.

“No waitress?” You asked, getting comfortable and setting your iPad down next to the empty plate.

“She’ll be over, just figured a friendly offer couldn’t hurt” he said with a small smirk.

You roll your eyes playfully. “House cocktail please, and thank you. But don’t count on kindness boosting your hospitality score-“ you stop, realizing he never gave you his name.

“Richie” he said, sticking his hand out to shake.

“Richie.” You repeat, giving him your firm professional shake.

“House cocktail comin’ up” he said and headed back to the bar. You mulled over the menu, lemon chicken picatta, that sounded like a perfect dish to judge this time around.

A few minutes later, Richie returns, setting the glass down in front of you. “Waitress should be by momentarily, enjoy your meal” he said, heading back to the host stand.

A bit after the waitress came to take your order, the restaurant had begun to die down. You were going to be the last person served tonight it looked like, since in 5 minutes they would stop seating people.

You added additional notes to your section about the cocktail, getting a better photo of it for your blog when you hear a bit of commotion up front.

You look up, to see a woman with curled brown hair in navy blue scrubs, her hands on her hips, talking with Richie with a frustrated look. There were tears in her eyes, you couldn’t help but tune in to their conversation.

“Richie, please let me see him- he- he hasn’t said anything and I…I just need to hear him say it to my face. Please!” She begs, tears were streaming down her face now.

Richie looks around nervously, tugging her to the side so they weren’t standing right in front of the host stand. You lean over just a bit- not so much it would be noticeable, but enough your nosy ears could continue to pick up what was being said.

“Claire. You shouldn’t be here…I’m sorry- he told me-he said that..that you can’t come here anymore. It’s too much and he will apologize when he can find the words. But he can’t. So please before he sees you. Leave” he said softly, attempting to soothingly rub her arm and she jerks away like his touch burned her skin.

“Fuck you, Richie. Get him. Now. I’m not working on his time anymore. This is my time now. I’ve waited around enough for him. I’m done waiting. Either get him yourself? Or I swear to god I’ll go in that kitchen and embarrass the fucking shit out of him” she hissed.

Your eyebrows raised, shit. Whoever fucked her over should at least be warned.

He snorts, clearly amused before stepping back and raising his arms in defeat. “Have at it ClaireBear.” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You think he’s gonna take kindly to you startin’ w’him in his house? Be my guest.” He shrugged, going back over to the host stand.

And then it clicked. She’s here for Carmen.

She laughed dryly, sarcastically, like a woman who’d had it. “You think I’m scared? Richie? You think I’m scared of little Carmy who couldn’t even check out a library book by himself? mm?” She goads him, arms crossed, chest heaving with rage.

His head snaps back to look at her, brows raised in shock. “Kid- I really think you should go calm the fuck down, because Y’re not gonna like the way that this conversation ends w’him- at all.”

And with that, she shoves open the kitchen door. You couldn’t just sit there and not watch- this was the juiciest drama you’d ever been privy to in person, and this means he’s single. You slightly curse yourself for being so giddy that this means the sexy chef would likely be on the market.

Your foot catches the door before it closes, leaning against the frame. She storms in, eyes frantically darting over the kitchen.

“Carmen.” She barks, the entire kitchen stops moving and looks at her, as if they were in shock and awe someone would ever raise their voice to him in such a way.

He rounds the corner, holding a pan of focaccia dough that he nearly drops at the sight of her. He blinks a few times, squeezing his eyes shut as if she’d disappear when he opened them again.

“The fuck are you-“ his eyes meet yours, his face going pale quickly, he looked white as a sheet. “Leave.” He orders her, slamming the dough down on the counter.

“Leave?!” She laughs coldly, “you’re gonna tell me to leave?! You’re a fucking pussy Carmen. A pussy. Y’know- it was charity giving you a chance. Pity work.” She spits and you blink a few times, taken aback by such harsh words.

Is she serious? She thinks anyone could believe dating a super hot, ripped, talented, chef prodigy - that was charity work in any sense of the word?

He scoffs, “Charity?” He chuckled dryly. “Claire- you begged me to fuckin’ be with you! You-you-y’re a fuckin gnat! Claire! You- all you do is-is fuckin’-” he runs his hand through his hair, his chest heaving in anger, “You dont know me, Claire! Alright? There- And I-I-I don’t want you i’m-i’m sorry-”

She laughed, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face. “You-” she whispered, her chest shaking with a sob. “You- fucker- I- I gave you a chance…” she whispered and gripped her wrist sadly. “I- I was there for you, Carmen- when no one else could fucking stand you.” she croaked.

“And I never asked for you too- please- just…leave me alone-” he shook his head. “Leave. Please…just-pretend we never happened, it was a mistake, Claire.” he breathed, clearly utterly defeated, and It sounded like he’d told this girl these same words multiple times.

“M-Mikey would be sick- Carmy, he’d- he’d hate who you’ve become…” she said meekly, and with that- something behind his eyes snapped.

“Claire I’m not DOING THIS I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FUCKIN’ RESTAURANT. WERE OVER. YOU ARE NOTHING TO ME! YOU MEAN NOTHING CLAIRE!” He roars, the veins in his neck popping out, angrily and aggressively pointing to the door. “OUT. get the fuck out. G-get out, b-before I-I-I fuckin- holy fuck” he finds his composure once more, even though his breath was still ragged from his outburst, flicking his hand next to him his entire body trembling with panic.

She looks to her left and right, she’s not that-

Your thoughts were quickly proven wrong, when you see she was stupid enough to grab a pan off the stove to whip at him.

“Aht!” the spanish woman standing a few paces to the right said, quickly grabbing the arm with the pan and twisting it behind her back. “Drop it.” she hissed.

Carmen looks between the two of them, utterly in shock. “Y-y’were gonna hit me?” He asked her, face twisting in rage. “Fuck you. Fuck you Claire.” He seethed, taking the pan from his employees grasp and tossing it in the sink with a loud clatter.

“Get the fuck out” you told her, grabbing her from the handle of the woman who’d stopped the assault, shoving her towards the kitchen door and into the front of the restaurant. “Y’re a fuckin crazy bitch.” You laughed dryly, giving her a hard shove for good measure.

“Oh and who are you” she straightened herself out, pushing her bag up on her shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Glad to see that Carmy still needs someone to protect him. I’ll gladly give up that spot.” she said, causing you to laugh.

“Oh my god- you are pathetic. He just spelt it clear as day sweetheart- you are over. O-v-e-r. He doesn’t want you babe! And no, he doesn’t need my protection- I was enjoying dinner and apparently a show until you went batshit bitch.” You snip, plopping back down at your booth.

She scoffed “he doesn’t want anyone. The only thing he wants - is to remain miserable. Good fucking luck, whoever you are.” She said before stomping out.

“Yo she was really gonna throw somethin?” Richie asked as he walked over. Thankfully, it was just you, him, and the bartender in the front of the restaurant.

You nod “thankfully she didn’t realize I was there- Carmen would have had a nasty burn, and a concussion.” You said, taking a large sip of your drink.

Carmen comes out, eyes meeting yours immediately. “Fuck- I- don’t worry y’re meal is comped and don’t…don’t worry about a review, i’m sorry- I-I guess it wasn't in the cards f’r us to be featured on y’r blog... I’m really so sorry… Shes- ah..” he rubs his arm nervously, trying to find the words.

“A woman scorned” You teased, and he snorts a laugh, nodding a bit.

“Hell hath no fury, right?” He joked, sighing a bit. “It’s uh…it’s my fault I guess…I uh- I should’ve dealt with that…I've been putting it off” he said and you nod a bit.

“You off the clock?” you looked at your phone for the time, 10:07.

“Shit- fuck- sorry- I’m so sorry- give me like- I was making y’r food…and then-” you shook your head, stopping him.

“No- No…I was uh-Asking to see if you maybe wanted to..have a drink with me? Not-not like…professionally…” you shrugged, stirring your half full cocktail with the bar straw that floated in it.

“Sure- uh…sure- I’d like that lemme..lemme go change, i’ll be right out” he nodded, heading back into the kitchen.

251 notes · View notes

chaos-in-deepspace · 6 months ago

Text

LNDS Xavier: Lazy Pandas (18+)

Oh gods I hate editing my work because of the bad grammar and typos, but I wanted to get this out TONIGHT. I have plans on writing one of these for each of the boys. Just those panda outfits are so adorable. But also I am a degenerate so here we are. Enjoy the meal.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, laughing during sex, soft kisses, unsafe sex, creampie, riding, cuddling Pairing: Xavier x Reader Synopsis: You had it all planned, a small date night with Xavier with your new, adorable panda overalls. However after s bit of cuddling you decide to have a bit of play time with your favorite panda boy. Word Count: 3.3k

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Lazy Pandas

“Oh my goodness, you look adorable!” You said, looking at Xavier in his current panda outfit. You had seen them in store a week ago and knew you needed to get a matching set to wear with him. It was totally worth it as you took him in.

He already had that soft boy aesthetic going for him, so dressing like a panda was just a cherry on top. You had to fight with yourself not to coo over how adorable he is, knowing he would either turn it right back on you, or get all pouty.

“You look rather cute as well.” He said, scratching his cheek as he looked away from you for a moment before turning back. You had the slightest blush on your cheeks from the compliment. No matter how many times he gave you compliments, it never failed to turn you into a blushing, and sometimes giggling, mess.

He paused for a moment as though thinking, then turned back to you with a small, relaxed smile, “Was there a reason you wanted to wear these tonight?”

“There is always a method to my madness, Xav. Take a good look around!” You said, moving to show him what you did to his living room. You had literally rushed to his apartment the moment he got home with this plan in mind. While he showered and got changed, you got to work.

Xavier seemed to finally notice the tornado that went through his living room. Every single pillow and blanket he owned was currently stashed on the floor. You had even moved some furniture around to make more room. It was a perfect little nest which included several plushies he had gotten you in the past.

There was also a small tray of finger foods that wouldn’t be too messy. The TV flickered with a movie series title on display, one that you had mentioned you wanted to binge with him. You had made it the most cozy movie date ever, outfits included.

“Besides, isn’t matching fun?” You asked, shuffling a bit. Your hands went to the overall pockets as you looked around, hoping he’d like what you did.

“You’re right, it is rather fun. I can’t recall the last time I had a movie marathon like this.” He said, giving you subtle praise and you preened from the attention.

You grabbed onto Xavier’s hand, pulling him closer to the little nest you had practically built for the two of you. It was easy to drag him down with you, getting comfortable in all the fluffy blankets he owned. This is why you had to do this at his apartment. He was a collector of the comfiest blankets and pillows known to man.

It didn’t take long before you had turned the movie on and you two got into a comfortable silence as you watched. The movie wasn’t particularly a good one, but it had five movies in the series and could be considered entertaining to some extent. Xavier commented about never having seen them though, so you knew you two had to experience it together.

As the movie continued, reaching the halfway point, you couldn’t help but roll over until you bumped into Xavier’s side. Said man had a cracker in his mouth as he looked down at you. He swallowed what was in his mouth before smiling at you, “Need something?”

“Cuddles.” You stated simply, knowing exactly what you were about right now.

Xavier’s arm went over the top of your body, dragging you in closer and tucking your body against his chest. He carefully angled it so you’d be able to see the movie, but soon realized your neck might strain a bit to see the screen.

Xavier easily wrapped his arms around your midsection before rolling onto his back, letting your body nestle right on top of him. You let out a soft grunt from the position change until you realized you could now lay your head right on his chest.

“That better?” He asked, his arms still securely wrapped around you.

“Ya, but now you’re watching the movie upside down.” You said, noticing how he laid his head down and stared over at the TV.

He took a moment to look at you before his eyes flicked back over to the movie, “I don’t mind watching it upside down if I can hold you like this.”

You swore your heart fluttered at his every word as you got comfortable in the newest cuddle spot. It couldn’t have been ten minutes when your gaze went back down to your boyfriend. He looked so focused on the movie and you thought about how he looked adorable like this. How a man could look cute from every angle was one of the many mysteries of the world.

“Hey Xav.” You called, getting his attention. He looked up at you just in time for you to give him a gentle kiss right on the tip of his nose.

He blinked a few times in confusion before a lax smile spread on his face, “You missed.” He commented.

“Oh, my bad. Lemme try again.” You said, this time going to press a kiss to his forehead. You watched his eyes pinch closed as you did so and you chuckled, sitting back up on him again.

“You still missed.” He said and you rolled your eyes. You then leaned over, kissing both his cheeks then gave a satisfied smirk.

“I think I did good that time, right?” You asked him, tilting your head innocently. Xavier’s hands on your hips gave you a small squeeze, making you squeak in surprise. You then felt one of his hands going to cup you under the chin as he brought you down to him.

After placing a barely there kiss on your lips, he moved your face away, “There, that’s better. Perhaps we should take you out training since your aim seems a bit off today.” He suggested.

You gave him a dramatic eye roll and pushed his chest down, “My aim is just fine, thank you.”

You shifted again in his lap to get comfortable before you noticed something underneath you. It was subtle through the layers of clothing you had between you, but it could really only be one thing.

“Xav…did you get hard from that?” You teased, shuffling your hips to get a better feel for his erection underneath you.

Xavier let out a small groan before looking away from you, a slight dusting of pink went across his cheeks, “I can’t help it, you were squirming a lot.”

You just laughed at how cute he seemed to be. You used your arms to help keep you steady as you went to grind down on his length. You hated how you could barely feel him through the fabrics, knowing just how good his dick felt when it was pressed against your bare skin.

Xavier’s hands went back to your hips, stopping your grinding motion, “W-what are you doing?” he finally managed to ask after shifting under you so you wouldn’t be directly on top of his length.

“Take a wild guess, panda boy.” You said, trying to move despite his iron-like grip on your sides. Sometimes you hated how strong he was in comparison to you.

“You can’t even give me a proper kiss, yet you want to use my body?” He asks with a small pout. You snicker at his expression before placing a hand under his chin.

“Well get up here and kiss me properly…and for the record you were the one who got turned on first. I thought pandas were supposed to be lazy.” You teased the man under you. Xavier didn’t hesitate to sit up and reposition you two so you straddled his lap.

He leaned in, pressing his mouth against yours and you happily melted into his touch. His lips were always soft and you briefly wondered if he ever used chapstick, or if he was just naturally lucky. A small pinch to your hip brought you out of your random thoughts.

Xavier placed a small kiss to the edge of your mouth, “Perhaps it’s mating season for this panda…” He commented, and you swore if you kept rolling your eyes they’d end up in the back of your head at this point.

“If that’s true, then did my cute panda boy want me to ride him?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you pressed your chest up against him.

Xavier’s eyes widened for a moment at your blunt question before he let out an amused laugh, “You certainly don’t shy away anymore.” He joked.

You couldn’t help the pout on your lips, “Well if you don’t want me to then…” You went to stand up, but Xavier’s grip wasn’t letting you go anywhere.

“Now I didn’t say that.” His hand went to cup your cheek, “You just caught me by surprise is all.”

You did a small happy shimmy as his acceptance, your laughter mingling with his. You then decided you were tired of not being able to feel him properly.

“Let’s get these overalls off of us then. They’re too thick.” You said, snapping the one shoulder piece Xavier had off and letting the top of the overalls slide down, pooling at his waist.

Xavier was more than happy to get out of the pants, lifting his hips as you helped push them off of him. It was your turn to be surprised as you noticed his cock was sitting there, hard and leaking onto his abs. The hoodie was pulled up just enough so it wouldn’t make a mess and your hand trailed over the vein on the underside.

“You went commando?” You asked, hand wrapping around his length, and using the bit of pre he had on his tip, began stroking his cock with ease.

Xavier let out a groan, relaxing on his elbows as he looked at you, “Well it was a bit warm so I decided it would be fine.” He said, hissing when you pressed a bit too roughly on his frenulum.

“So you didn’t have this planned?” You asked, pretending not to notice his small wince as you teased him with the slightest amount of pain. Your thumb rubbed soothingly over the skin as you went back to stroking him normally.

“It certainly wasn’t in the plans when I put…this on. Figured you weren’t about to suggest panda roleplay.” He said, his head thrown back suddenly as he moaned as you picked up your speed.

“Ya, not something I’m into…but you know you do look cute in this hoodie. You could totally rock wearing this thing out casually.” You said, your hand twisting as you gauged how he was reacting.

“Mhn, I’ll wear it out only if you-hah-match w-with me.” Xavier managed to get out through moans. You could tell from the twitch of his cock that he was getting close.

A large hand wrapped around your wrist stopping you from stroking him further. He took a few seconds to breathe, calming himself down from reaching his peak, “I thought you wanted to ride me? If you keep this up you’ll have to wait a while.”

You gave Xavier a flirtatious smirk, leaning forward and giving him a quick kiss, “Fine, I’ll stop, only because if we don’t hurry we’ll miss the ending of the first movie.” You said, glancing up at the screen where the movie continued playing.

Xavier huffed at your attention, watching as you easily slid off your own overalls then tossed your panties next to you. You effortlessly got into position, lining his dick up with your entrance and rubbing it against your slick folds.

After watching you for a moment, Xavier gave a small frown, “I thought you were going to ride me, not tease me.”

You shoot him a wink before speaking, “If you ask me nicely I’ll happily ride you, panda boy.”

Xavier let out a sigh as he leaned up, capturing your lips with his own then pulling away, “Will you please ride me, starlight?”

You leaned in again, kissing him slowly as you began sinking onto his length. You let out a small moan into his mouth, loving how he stretched you. He always felt so right inside that you practically dreamt about it all the damn time.

You finally got him hilted in you, his cock twitching already. You moved his hoodie up to get a good look at his abs, licking your lips as you got balanced and angled just right. Xavier’s hands went to hold your hips, but you were quick to slap them away.

“Nuh uh, if I let you hold onto me, you’re gonna control the pace, mister. You just strap on in and enjoy the ride.” You scolded and Xavier groaned, rolling his hips into yours and making you gasp, “H-hey, no fair.” You grumbled.

He chuckled as he got back on his elbows, staring up at you seated so perfectly on his cock. You looked like his lap was your own personal throne, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You began lifting off of him, taking your pace as slow and relaxed as you could. You were savoring just feeling him inside of you, how his cock grazed your warm walls every time you sank back down on his length.

“That’s better.” You said, lazily rolling your hips as you continue riding him at your agonizingly slow pace.

“My star, as amazing as you feel, do you think you could…” He trailed off and you tilted your head in mock confusion.

“Could I?” You said, sitting down on his lap fully and waiting for him to tell you what he wanted.

“Go a bit faster?” He huffed out.

You gave a small hum in response, thinking it over, “I dunno Xav, I am just a lazy little panda. I don’t know if I can go much faster than this.” You teased, your hips barely moving as you gave a few shallow strokes.

Xavier let out an annoyed groan, letting you continue to antagonize him for a few more minutes. After he realized you really had no intention of picking up, he rolled his hips up into you harshly. You let out a gasp, almost losing your balance as your hands all but slammed down on his stomach, making him grunt.

You looked up to see him pouting which made you chuckle. Your hands found his cheeks, squishing them together and forcing him to look at you, “Xav, you gotta be patient.” You chided and he just looked away for a moment, his face scrunched up in thought.

His hands went to cup your own, removing them from his cheek as he gave you a heated look, “This panda doesn’t feel like being patient right now.” He commented.

Suddenly his hands were lifting you up and off his lap. In an instant you had been flipped onto your back, Xavier hovering over you as he grabbed two pillows. He placed one under your hips and the other under your head before lining himself up, “I think I’ve been patient enough as is.”

He hoisted both your legs up, wrapping them securely around his hips then entered your warm heat again, groaning at how your walls clenched around him.

“Such an impatient panda.” You teased, chuckling for a moment before it morphed into a long, drawn out moan as he managed to hit your sweet spot within the first few thrusts. Xavier didn’t waste any time picking up a pace that would easily have you both coming in minutes.

Xavier leaned closer, pressing you into what felt like a pretzel as his face was right against yours. His soft pants and groans filled the room alongside your own. His hand went between your bodies, pinching your clit and you let out a mewl.

“Xavier, fuck.” You moaned out, rolling your hips along with his thrust, “Not g-gonna last long like t-this.” You panted.

“I’m not doing much better, your edging has me ready to cum any second.” He said, laying wet kisses along the column of your neck.

Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you took his brutal pace, the warm coil tightening in your abdomen and threatening to spill over with every quick thrust into you.

“Mind if I breed you? It is mating season after all.” Xavier said, despite the husky hint his voice took on, you could pick up his joking tone anywhere. You let out an annoyed groan, letting him know your displeasure before you broke out into a fit of giggles.

“That’s so lame.” You said between your small laughing fit, Xavier wasn’t doing much better as he laughed alongside you, fighting back the urge to cum as your walls squeezed him as you chuckled.

“You didn't answer me though, and we’re running on limited time.” He said, pressing a small nip to your cheek.

You once again teased him back, “Fine, fill me up, panda daddy.” You got another nip from him with that comment, alongside him pinching your clit and making your laugh turn into a moan. He rubbed soothing circles along the bud as though apologizing for the rough treatment.

That was enough to send you over the edge, the familiar warmth overtaking your body as your walls spasmed around his length. Xavier let out a small gasp, his cock twitching inside of you. He shot ropes of his warm seed deep into your cunt, painting the walls with the milky substance.

Xavier gave a few more languid strokes inside of you before finally stopping. His face was nuzzling your neck as he occasionally placed a soft kiss there. He looked around after a moment, finding one of the fluffy towels you had used to help cushion the nest you made. He lifted your hips up and placed it under your ass as he pulled out of you.

He watched your combined essence dripped out onto it and you bashfully closed your legs, moving a hand over your mouth as you looked away, “Xav, don’t stare…” You murmured.

“I can’t help it.” he said, moving away so he was no longer right up against you. He gathered another one of those fluffy towels, using it to wipe himself down and then gently went between your legs. You gasped at the sudden sensation as you felt way too sensitive. Xavier cooed, helping you relax as he did his best cleaning you up with what he had on hand.

After he was satisfied, he grabbed your underwear that was basically right next to your head. He slipped them back on, hoping it would keep the rest of his release inside for the time being, “There, all better.”

“Are we not gonna shower after all that?” You asked, feeling the slightest sheen of sweet coating your skin. The hoodie didn’t help the cause as you finally sat up. You groaned as Xavier tossed your overalls onto you, the fabric falling on your face then to your lap.

“Our movie marathon isn’t over…we don’t want to miss the ending of the first one, right?” He teased. You rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time that night as you began putting your overalls back on. You looked over to see Xavier was already clothed and ready.

He grabbed onto your waist and pulled you closer. This time you were both on your stomachs, his arm securely around your back as he grabbed pillows for your heads. You watched Xavier give a small yawn as he tried focusing on the movie, but with how zoned out his eyes seemed to be you knew he wouldn’t be conscious for long.

“Gonna nap?” You asked, tilting your head to rest against his shoulder.

“Just for a few minutes…” A bold faced lie, “Wake me up when the movie ends, okay?”

“Alright Xav.” You said, turning your head to press a kiss against his cheek. You then turned back with the intent to finish this movie series tonight, no matter how many distractions found you.

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Xavier Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Xavier #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #xavier x reader #l&ds #l&ds xavier #l&ds xavier x reader #lads x reader #lads xavier #lads xavier x reader #rabid rabbit hours

260 notes · View notes