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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years

Text

seonghwa sfw alphabet

genre: fluff

word count: 2.6k

warnings: none

requested?: yes

song rec: i love you so by the walters

pls like and reblog if you enjoyed! feel free to request anything <3

a - affection (how affectionate are they? how do they show affection)

he has lots of affection for you

he looks at you like you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen

has such a high opinion of you. in his books, you can do no wrong

he regularly compliments you, even in the early stages of the relationship. with a shy smile, perhaps looking down at his feet and his ears turning red, he might say how stunning that outfit looks on you, or how he really values your company

also likes fiddling with your hands/fingers with his. it doesn't matter where you guys are he will just start grabbing them and threading your fingers through his

b - best friend (what would they be like as a best friend?)

he's a comfort friend

the type you can go to for anything

likes having long, deep conversations with his bestie over lunch

you guys are each others confidants. you always get things off your chests and are there to support each other

because seonghwa is interested in other people and any problem they might be facing, he will for sure be concerned about this best friend

so he always listens to you and thanks you for trusting him with your problems

c - cuddles (would they like to cuddle? how do they cuddle?)

always asks if you want to cuddle him. he doesn't just leap on you and do what he wants, lol. he likes to make sure you actually want to cuddle before he initiates anything

and when you except, he's like little cat, snuggling into you with a small content smile

he's very soft and gentle when he cuddles you. always has a cute little kitty smile on his face ^^

d = domestic (do they want to settle down? how are they at cooking and cleaning?)

he would love to settle down in the future. and he like to take things slow and be balanced and rational with regards to making big decisions with you, like moving in together, for instance

seonghwa is very good at cleaning! and he's good at organisaing in general. he will teach you how to fold your clothes a certain way to save space or will help dust and hoover around the house. he's on it before you notice anything needs cleaning!

e = ending (if they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

he's mild and soft when he tells you he wants to break up

probably holds your hand as he explains himself

i don't really see seonghwa breaking up with his s/o unless something really bad has happened in the relationship

speaks in a low, serious voice and makes sure you know where he's coming from. but he feels awful inside. so awful

f = fiance(e) (how do they feel about commitment? how quick would they want to get married?)

he looovveeesss commitment so that's a big yes

imagine seonghwa proposing to you fjofnjvf

would make it so cliche and romantic and beautiful. like he would totally propose with a big, meaningful gesture of some sort

and you best believe he will go all out when it comes to the wedding. he wants to make you special day really memorable

will try and find a way to fit a fireworks display in the ceremony or the after party, stuff like that

g = gentle (how gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

you all know this but i'm just going to say it any way

seonghwa is the GENTLEST person in the whole wide

he puts the 'gentle' in gentleman

all you have to do i type on 'seonghwa' and 'gentle' on twitter or something and it comes up with so many examples of how kind and careful he is

his voice is gentle and soothing, he handles thigns with care, and he especially takes consideration to other people's feelings

h = hugs (do they like hugs? how often do they do it? what are their hugs like?)

he loves his huggles ;-; will take any he can get

he likes initiating side hugs the most. just holding you in his arms so perfectly and perhaps shifting his head atop yours, or maybe nuzzling and kissing your neck

any hugs will do for him tbh

back hugs, bear hugs... his heart just feels so warm and happy and full of love

so please hug him as much as possible 🙏

i = i love you (how fast do they say the l-word?)

you are his whole world

it's almost immediate that he figures out he's in love with you

but he would wait a couple dates into your relationship to confess his feelings

he wants to set up the most perfect date for you both just so he can tell you he loves you.

j = jealousy (how jealous do they get? what do they do when they're jealous?)

hmmmmmm he's a tricky one to figure out when it comes to this

i feel like he can get jealous tbh. he tells himself he's being ridiculous and that all these envious feelings are unnecessary

but he can't seem to help them when perhaps you are getting on with an attractive guy a little too well, or you start spending less time away from him to hang out with other people

seonghwa hates feeling out of the loop. when it comes to intimate relationships, he wants to know what's going on. obviously not all the time, he has boundaries. but if he feels that he's slowly being pushed aside or neglected or overlooked, he will be jealous of the people who are taking up more of your time and interest. he will be hurt more than anything else

k = kisses (what are their kisses like? where do they like to kiss you? where do they like to be kissed?)

most of the time?

so, so soft

like a feather from an angels wings, caressing your lips, your skin, your heart

he's so tender and meaningful with his kisses

when things get heated though-

uhum...

he's so hot, ffs

slow, passionate, messy. he likes taking his time to explore your mouth with his. he wants to take in this moment as much as he possibly can

l = little ones (how are they around children?)

he is gentle and caring and attentive

everyone remarks how pleasant he is with children, and how one day he would be a good father

but he is prone to spoiling children. Will literally give them whatever they want. he just wants to please them, get them not to cry, and just to like him 💀 so if they want a chocolate bar, or a toy car, or a extra rare and specific plushie from the other side of the earth, he will get it for them!

m = morning (how are mornings spent with them?)

naturally wakes up before you. neither of you know how that works but it just... happens

has this love-dazed look on his face when you wake up. he says 'good morning, angel' in a sweet, low morning voice. he smiles at you sleepily, looking mesmerised by your beauty

probably pulls you in for a cuddle sesh. he's so affectionate in the mornings istg. always with the sloppy neck kisses and the compliments and just >

n = night (how are nights spent with them?)

loves nothing more than to just chill with you

sits on his phone scrolling mindlessly while you're doing the same, both tangled together in each others arms

or he will put on a romantic drama for your both to watch together. you both react to the tense moments really dramatically, which always ends up with the both of you laughing

and then you fall asleep like that in ecah others arms <3

o = open (when would they start revealing things about themselves? do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

he paces himself

not too fast, not too slow. just very balanced

is good at discerning when are the right moments to speak and share certain things, perhaps about his doubts, his worries, his fears, his vulnerabilities

he likes having someone he can trust. an open, judge-free space to talk and express his feelings

p = patience (how easily angered are they?)

he's not an angry guy

he's very slow to anger. because, he hates feeling angry. it's probably one of the worse feelings for him. he feels like he has no control when he is angry

so there's just no way he is going to give into such a negative, consuming emotion so quickly when there's so much he has to decide

almost always gives people the benefit of the doubt or makes excuses for them if they've caused him to feel upset

he's always trying to take into account of situations ahead of his own

which means that, if seonghwa is angry, its about something very serious and should not be taken likely

i wouldn't want to be near hwa when he is angry. its such a rare occurrence that, when it happens, its a massive shock to the system

q = quizzes (how much would they remember about you? do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

seonghwa remembers A LOT

there's only a certain things that might fall out of his head. but they are pretty insignificant

most of the times he recounts most details about the dates you've been on together, what happened on them, what restaurant you guys went to, what meals you had, etc...

he retells these stories with pride, happy that he is able to cherish these memories with you forever

r = remember (what is their favourite moment in your relationship?)

he doesn't have a set, favourite moment. it's more like a collection of moments that he holds close to his heart

mostly spending one-on-one quality time with you. even something as simple as cuddling can get him to realise how lucky he is and how important you are to him

or when you do things for him, like take care of him when he is sick. those are is favourite moments. the moments where you show your love to him in its purest, most genuine form

s = security (how protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?)

taking care of you, making sure you are okay and comfortable and loved, all of that is his priority

so he's pretty sensitive when it comes to you. you are the most important person in his life, why wouldn't he be sensitive?

so, of course, he is protective. you're so precious to him, if anyway mistreat you or makes you feel a certain way, he's going to stick up and defend you despite being on the quieter side

he doesn't expect you to be protective of him in the same way he doesn't expect most things he does to be reciprocated. because he's a natural giver. he will just provide and take care of his loved ones without giving it a second thought. but if you do protect him and acre for him the way he does for you, he will fall in love with you so much more, knowing he is with a kind, beautiful soul who cares for him just as much as he cares for you

t = try (how much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

he puts a lot of effort in

for anniversaries he likes to go for a traditional style date, like going out to a fancy restaurant and maybe a stroll by the river afterwards

but his gifts are never the same. he gets a mixture of expensive gifts, things off your wishlist, mini items that he saw in the shop window and thought of you when he saw it

he just can't help himself. gift giving is important to him!!

u = ugly (what would be some bad habits of theirs?)

will neglect his own needs to please others

this isn't just in a romantic relationship. i'm talking about. ksot relationships

this quality has strengths and weaknesses. kindness and being self-sacrificing is such a strong, genuine and rare quality. its one of the reasons why you absolutely adore him

but you also wish that, in terms of taking care of his own needs, he needs to rein it in a bit

because at the end of the day, you can't please anyone

but he is learning to understand that you should only try please the ones that matter the most to you, as well as yourself

v = vanity (how concerned are they with their looks?)

likes maintaining a good, healthy image

he knows he's handsome but there are sometimes where he gets moments of discouragement or self-doubt

he might compare himself to others, thinking they look better than him. or their physique is better than his

whne really he's absolutely perfect the way he is

w = whole (would they feel incomplete without you?)

yes

gosh, you should see him when he goes on tour and has to leave you behind. he didn't realise how much all that time spent apart from you would effect him. but he ahd trouble getting to sleep, wondering if you were okay and worrying if you needed him for anything

with his special person not by his side, he feels a bit at a loss

so feeling incomplete is definitely soemthing that i would say seonghwa relates to

x = xtra (a random headcanon for them.)

as stated in his bf headcanons, he wants to wear matching pajamas with you >

you guys have this cute little set that has candies and lollipops on them with a burgundy background awww

and then just really fluffy ones that you both get too hot in even in the winter

OMG AND OODIES!!!

you guys know what oodies are, righf? those big massive pajama top/dressing gown/fluffy bundle of fluff to wear?? just look it up if you don't because those things are the best thing ever

and you both have them. in different colours. they were expensive gifts from each other since eyoyu both agreed to buy each other one

you guys look so cute when you're snuggled up with your big oodies enveloping your bodies as you continue to persistently cuddle in the fluffy chaos

even the other members would walk past and say how adorable you guys are

y = yuck (what are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner?)

anyone who is cruel and quick to judge another person without knowing their full story

it's so easy to pick on another and expose their faults

but seonghwa knows from both experience and past observations that, just because someone has acted a certain way, their true intention sight have been different from their execution

so someone who is ruthless and unforgiving is not the type of person seonghwa has an interest in

z = zzz (what is a sleep habit of theirs?)

the only sleeping habit he really has is that he has to sleep with you

which is obviously a habit that developed over the course of your relationship

having you next to him by his side before he drifts off just feels right now. it feels normal, natural, homely

so like i said before, when he is away from you, he has trouble drifting off to sleep

and it's mainly because your presence allows him to feel fully at a ease. to fully relax

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misaverawrites · 2 years

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Hey! Can I request a Owen hunt x reader smut where readers kind of a brat and he tames her? Basically just kinky and degrading.

Thanks 😍😍😍

Your Hand in Mine (Owen Hunt x Reader) *SMUT* *REQUEST*

a/n: working on better dirty talk lmao, it's really hard tbh

summary: You decide that Owen needs to relax more.

tags: bratty reader, kissing, Derek's kind of an asshole, missing surgery for sex, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, AFAB reader, she/her reader

You couldn’t think of anything hotter than Owen’s frustration.

Now, you loved Owen, he was one of your best friends, but sometimes he needed to get out of his own damn head. The way to achieve this seemingly impossible thing? Riling him up just enough always seemed to do the trick for you.

“Owen,” you lavished in your alone time with him, “Are you sure that Derek needs you right now? Because, I’m more than sure that I need you, here. For about 15 to 30 minutes.” You smile, it’s soft, almost innocent fun like you can’t feel the erection below you, pressing into your leg.

“15 to 30 minutes?” He raises an eyebrow towards you, “Don’t think I can go any longer than that?” You laugh, turning around in his lap, coming face to face with him, you bring your hands around to the back of his head, kissing him before shaking your head. “I don’t… Unless you want to prove otherwise to me?”

He could go longer than that. You and him both know that you knew that, but the thrill of the chase was one of your favorite things. Your center of gravity is suddenly thrown off as you’re thrown onto your back, his lips on yours. The kiss being all you could think about right now, you feel your scrub pants beings pulled off, as you pull away from the kiss, smiling. “Didn’t you say you had to go to Derek’s surgery?”

He shakes his head, a growl emitting from the back of his throat, as he smacks your ass, shaking his head, “Derek can wait, he’ll do it himself. Now, stop talking about him.” You yelp softly at the strike against your skin, leaving a welt that raises your skin, it’ll hurt later, you don’t care right now, Owen makes a note to get you some aloe for later. The puncture of teeth against the edge of your neck, traveling to softly bite on your collarbone, a soft moan escapes your mouth as Owen slides your underwear off, sliding one finger, then two, and then three inside of your pussy, which took him with little resistance.

“Like it was made for me,” he mutters to himself as he pumps his fingers inside of you, slow and hard, you thread your fingers into his red hair, and your legs come over Owen’s shoulders as Owen’s mouth meets the throbbing between your legs, sucking at the area, leaving your legs to wrap around his head, as he smacks the side of your thigh, yelps echoing into the sterile air, that is until you hear a knock of the door, all goes silent, “What?” You hear Owen growl as he yanks open the door, careful to hide you behind it, whilst you scramble to cover up with the thin sheet of the bed in case. Owen opens it to face Derek, who looks less than pleased at Owen, who is shirtless and very clearly having been occupied just moments before. Derek simply glares at him, “Look, I don’t even want to know, just get into my surgery when you can, and please, don’t let this happen again, also page (Y/N) when you get the chance, they’re supposed to be in there too.” You snort derisively, shaking your head, as Owen simply shuts the door, letting Derek walk away. He turns back to you, pulling his pants off, “I’m going to fuck you, then you and I are going to go back to that O.R. Got it?” While your fun had ended a bit too soon for your own liking, you decided that you could at least get a little bit of a push on him.

“Owen,” You smile at him, “Come on, you feel his grip on your thighs, “I want you to ruin me, Owen,” He releases your thighs, hands coming to his hard cock, stroking it whilst shaking his head, “I don’t think you deserve it, frankly, you’ve been acting like a brat this week… Tell me how much you actually want it.” His lips come to yours, the stubble scratching against your skin as he rubs his cock over your navel, “Fuck, Owen…” You murmur against his lips, “Just want you to fuck me, like, really fuck me…” The words began to drip from your mouth, sweet and simple, “Your cock in me, slow and deep, but, for now, I’m just gonna settle on fast… If you can even fuck me as fast as you want.” He’s holding a decade over you in terms of age, the fact lies heavy and the implication was a truck on top of it, that is until you feel a stretch inside of you. The gasp of surprise and pleasure that leaves your throat is one that can only leave a man like Owen with pride in his chest.

“Too deep?” He asks, mockingly sympathetic as you whine a bit, his cock stretching you as he thrusts inside, fast, faster than you’d ever taken him before, it’s a feeling that you want more of, “Owen, please!” The sentence is drawn out into a moan as his hands grip your arms, “Fuck, your cunts fucking gripping me, shit-.” He’s close, “Owen, wanna cum…” You whine as he continues to thrust into you without mercy, he shakes his head at your request, “You don’t deserve it yet,” You shake your head, his thrusting relentless on you, you’re close, you can’t help it as Owen feels your walls clench around his cock. “Just a little more, come on.” He mutters under his breath, not to you in particular.

Then, his breath hitches, his thrusts unsteady, “Gonna cum… Gonna cum, shit, cum with me, sweetheart.” All you needed was the go-ahead, and you come undone on his cock. Sweat drips from your brow as you collapse back onto the bed. “Shit, that was… Oh shit!” Your orgasm is quickly finished as you shoot up pulling on your underwear and then your scrubs, Owen looks at you quizzically, “Surgery!” You call out as you run out of the room, leaving Owen alone in the on-call room, naked and sure of only one thing, he definitely liked you for sure. You’d cleared his mind enough for him to know that.

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gunnerkriggcritical · 2 years

Text

I’ll share my personal story here in condensed form. I started reading the comic about 10 years ago and quickly became obsessed. I’d say at this point I’ve reread the entire thing… I don’t know, let’s say 5 or 6 times. At its peak, no other webcomic can match Gunnerkrigg for art, for story, or for character. What a stunning, spooky, subtle, complex, and deeply moving comic—and at times hilarious as well. All centered around Annie, one of the most heartbreakingly relatable characters I’ve ever encountered.

My personal turning point was The Tree. I feel like this is where some other fans would put their turning points, too. Anthony’s return brought the comic to a point I feel like it still hasn’t recovered from. Something happened at that point which slowly but surely made GKC a chore to read and keep up with, rather than a pleasure. The story now proceeds in awkward leaps and lurches rather than the patient, unfolding pace we were accustomed to for the first decade.

Nowadays, there’s no slow, careful unfolding of story. Major plot threads get resolved—or introduced and then immediately resolved (see the two Annies)—in ways that feel nowhere near satisfying or even coherent. New arcs are introduced that feel weird and tacked-on and, at worst, annoyingly unwelcome (Loup, who has never quite felt integrated into the story of the comic). The story is telling rather than showing 99.9% of the time. It’s ALL exposition. It’s like Tom is racing at full tilt towards the finish line so he can start working on something else he’s more passionate about. And worst of all, Annie Carver herself now feels like a side character in her own story. She displays few moments of autonomy or personality. She’s just kind of “girl who is there.” I don’t feel like we know her anymore. And for such an incredibly nuanced protagonist, that’s the worst crime of all.

But I might still be reading if not for two particular incidents. I usually can stay loyal to something I’ve loved despite its declining quality, but I never quite came back from the chapter where Tom seems to address reader criticism of Tony, Annie’s deadbeat-at-best dad, by having an entire chapter dedicated to how Tony is excused from being a deadbeat, actually, because he has an ambiguous mental illness of some sort, and ending with Annie looking directly at the viewer to tell us she doesn’t care and loves him anyway and she’s fine and we should all stop worrying, and then having Jones, the literal impartial observer character, agree with her.

That was my last straw. The comic was done for me after that. All my goodwill was gone. I’m honestly still enraged even though this happened more than a year ago; I could talk about it for paragraphs in another post, and I probably will. But for whatever reason I kept reading, morbid curiosity I guess?

Until I reached the point where Lana is almost sexually assaulted by elf kids. I couldn’t believe what I was reading, for so many reasons. GKC has gone so very far off the rails. I realized I was actively dreading each new page and I didn’t want to read at all anymore. I’m done, and I’ve only periodically checked in with the comic since then, each time discovering it’s gone even further off the rails than before.

It really feels like the author has clocked out. The art is no longer stunning (IMO), and the story no longer has any passion in it. It’s not unique or charming or heartbreaking or funny the way it once was. It’s just… random stuff happening. A story about robots, told robotically. At turns, unfortunately, it’s even actively offensive and bad. And for a comic that was once so special, that sucks especially much.

#gunnerkrigg court #gunnerkrigg #please excuse any typos I wrote this in notes app lol #antimony carver #kat donlan

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 9 months

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To the Shadows that Cry Witch /// Chapter 17

Hello! So I've made this one a little longer to make up for the two weeks of posting I missed, even though it's still a bit of a filler chapter, but I promise more exciting things are coming. Also I may be going on a small hiatus after posting this or the next chapter so I can get myself ready for uni. But apart from that, Enjoy! <3

Summary: Magic was real, but it came at a price. So when two girls end up in the one place they never thought they could reach, strange things began to happen. Good or bad? That's up to them to find out.

Tags: Kili x oc/reader - Fili x oc (POV to be written soon) - Thorin's company × ocs/reader (platonic) - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Bagginshield

Word Count: 3013

Warnings: Mentions of injuries and distressing events from previous chapter.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

PLEASE START FROM THE BEGINNING IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY OK LOVE U

Want some background music? Check out my Soundtrack Playlist!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

<; Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 >

Part 2: Chapter 17 -

I am confusion.

Moira (Definition): A person’s fate or destiny. (Noun / Origin: Irish / Moi·ruh)

Hobbiton, The Shire – T.A. 30th September 2939 of the Third Age (1339 in Shire-reckoning)

“And he just dragged you both in unconscious and decided to let you stay? Just like that?? Yavanna he is a strange hobbit.”

We both nodded in unison at Mrs Greenfoot’s questions and watched as she let out a guffaw, her eyes widening in disbelief at the story we told about our arrival. We had left out the parts where our belongings had materialised out of thin air and the near-death experience we had falling from the sky, otherwise I was sure we would be chased around with a cane and one unhappy hobbit lady yelling about us being delirious.

We were currently sat what seemed like a sewing room, with a folding screen standing tall on one side, whilst the other wall was taken up by a large cabinet and further shelving, that housed threads and fabrics of all kinds of colours and textures. I was currently sat on a small circular ottoman stool, watching Gladiola as she stared at the numbers on a measuring tape she had wrapped firmly around Kay’s waist. Brushing a brown curl out of her face, she released the tape and turned to a small table next to her, jotting numbers down on some paper.

“Well that’s a first.” She began. “It’s not every day Bilbo just lets anyone into his home. Not after he found Lobelia that one time trying to nick an entire drawer of handkerchiefs, my word,” she said with a chuckle, “Their screaming match could be heard from across the river!”

“He didn’t ask us right off the hook, though.” Kay responded. “We explained our situation and managed to convince him in the end.”

“Right.” Gladiola said whilst wrapping the tape around Kay's bicep. “Just make sure you two stay out of trouble – for both your reputations and Bilbo’s. The hobbits here love gossip, nor are all of them friendly to outsiders, if you haven’t already noticed.” She warned.

“Yeah we’ve noticed. I counted 9 who changed their route to avoid us, and don’t get me started on the staring.” I answered unenthusiastically.

Gladiola let out a short laugh. “You’re going to have to get used to it for a little while, I’m afraid. At least until they warm up to you. Hopefully.” She made one final note on the paper and put her tape measure away. “Now, keep in mind I am limited to what I have access to in Hobbiton, but why don’t you two tell me what kind of clothes you want.”

We spent a while sharing our ideas – I asked about a simple layered dress with a bodice that was similar to what Mrs Greenfoot was wearing, and some dungarees. Kay described a something similar, but with her own colour scheme, Gladiola nodding along as she wrote it all down. During that time, Bilbo had returned with the tea, and had a kettle boiling away as we all sat at the dining table.

“Ok, I’ll see what Mrs Brownlock has at her stall tomorrow morning and get started.” Gladiola explained.

Bilbo reached into his pocket and brought out a sack of coins, handing it over to Gladiola, insisting she had some form of money-based payment for the help she was provided, and she received it gratefully. I stood up and walked over to the stove to pour another cup of tea. At that point, loud chatter was heard outside, growing nearer, and soon enough the front door swung open, several small figures darting in with haste, followed by a very out of breath older hobbit.

The taller hobbit leant on the door, his face glowing a rosy red as he heaved deep breaths, and we all watched as several hobbit children scampered around, yelling with glee as smiles plastered each of their similar faces. All of them had mops of brown curly hair, varying in shades, lengths and styles, that swished around as they tumbled down the hallway. Though that came to a stop as they reached the kitchen.

The tallest of the children entered first and immediately froze, her large, dark blue eyes, that matched her dress, widened as they honed in on us. Another two crashed into her, causing her to stumble, and one by one the rest followed, crashing into each other until they all were stood still in the hallway, staring in with wide eyes.

Finally, the older hobbit caught up, his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He wore a grey button-up, tucked into a simple pair of brown trousers held up by suspenders of the same brown colour. A striking pair of dark blue eyes that matched the tallest child in front of him were slightly hidden by a mass of dark brown curls that spiralled down just past his pointed ears. His eyes were wide, darting around as his face held an awkward expression at the sight of the four of us.

“My love,” he greeted Gladiola, who gave him a warm smile in return. “I uhh – didn’t… realise we were having guests today?”

“Are you an elf?”

My body jerked slightly, startled as I looked down to find one of the smaller kids had silently approached me, and was now staring up with giant brown doe eyes as she poked at my knee.

“Uhhhh, no?” I answered confusedly.

“But you’re so tall?!” This time it was one of the boys that spoke up, hurrying over to join what I guessed was his sister to where I was stood by the stove.

“She has long straight hair like an elf!”

“And look! Her ears are pointy!”

“Ah, no,” I answered with a nervous laugh, “They just look pointy when I face forward.” I turned my head and pointed at my ear. “I can assure you they’re round.”

The two of them looked like they didn’t believe a word I said, and I felt myself begin to sweat slightly at the pressure of their staring. That was, until the girl glanced at Kay, and immediately set her sights on her.

“What about you!” She exclaimed, causing Kay to jump in her seat. “Are you an elf?!”

“She not tall enough.” Said the boy, and I burst out laughing at the sight of Kay’s offended face, her mouth open in shock. “Maybe she’s half elf.”

“Melba! Rothad! That’s enough!”

Gladiola’s voice resonated through the room, silencing the two kids.

“Sorry ma.” They both said in unison.

“Mum, who are these people?” Piped up the tallest who had come through first. She was definitely the eldest of the group, her protective nature showing with the wary look on her face as she subconsciously picked up the smallest child and held her in her arms.

“They’re friends of Bilbo’s dearie,” Mrs Greenfoot answered. “They’re staying here for a while, so I’ll be making them both some outfits to fit in.”

“But I thought Bilbo didn’t like outsiders?” Revealed the eldest, much to Bilbo’s chagrin.

“W-well it’s not that I dislike everyone who comes through the Shire,” He defended with a red tint to his ears. “I’ve just happened to have some unfortunate encounters with the men of Bree during the odd visit, that’s all.”

The eldest looked unconvinced, her brows pinched as she pinned him with an intense glare, causing Bilbo to shrink in his chair slightly at the sight of the challenging child.

Gladiola quickly went to break the tension, distracting her eldest child with a suggestion to introduce everyone, to which she did.

“My name is Menegilda, and these are my sisters, Melba, Berylla and Lalia.” She gestured to the girls on her right, then to the three boys grinning on her left. “And these are my brothers, Rothad, Griffo and Madoc. Also, this is our father.” She pointed her dad who had sneaked passed the seven kids, and was pouring himself a cup of tea.

He gave us both a warm grin, walking over to give his wife a kiss on the forehead, before introducing himself. “Gilbert, it’s lovely to meet you both, and to see you again Bilbo!” He clapped the other hobbit on the back, sitting down on the chair by Gladiola, who turned towards us.

“I hope you guys are up for the challenge, cause you’ve got seven kids to look after.” She said.

Her sentence was met with a wide range of reactions: Kay and I nodded in agreement, whilst Gilbert slumped in his chair with a sigh of relief (turns out he likes having his weekends off with the kids, but it was nice to have a break sometimes). The children were a mix, most of them shouting in excitement whilst others like Menegilda and Madoc – who were the eldest of the group – looked unsure at the thought of strangers looking after them. I didn’t blame them though, I’ve had my fair share of babysitters in the past, and not knowing them beforehand made things a little awkward when it came to them telling you what to do.

Though we no longer had any choice on whether or not we wanted to get to know them, because the two of us were instantly swept away, Melba and Rothad in the lead as they dragged us further into the house. I gave Kay an exasperated look.

“I think I’m gonna have a hard time remembering all these names.” I whispered as much as I could over the yelling.

Kay scoffed. “But you can recite the names of over eighty Transformers characters? It shouldn’t be that hard.” She smirked as I pouted with a frown.

It wasn’t long before Kay and I found ourselves sat on the floor of one of the kid’s bedrooms, being prodded with questions as some played with our hair, whilst the others scurried around the room, grabbing random things of theirs to show us. Menegilda had remained in the corner at first, but soon enough she was sat in front of us with the youngest in her lap – Lalia – after seeing my wrist splint and asking how it happened, but now she quietly spoke about what the seven of them usually got up to.

Hours passed, and we found ourselves waving goodbye to the Greenfoot family, exhausted from the children’s constant playing, and full from both Bilbo and Mr & Mrs Greenfoot effortlessly putting together the last 4 meals of the hobbit day - Luncheon, Afternoon Tea, Dinner and Supper. As a thanks, I promised to make another batch of Victorian sponge cakes, much to the excitement of the large family at the thought of trying a new type of pudding. And with that, the two of us and Bilbo finally made our way up the grassy path, dimly lit by the dying light of the golden hour, ready to go to bed.

25 Days Later – T.A. 25th October 2939 of the Third Age (1339 in Shire-reckoning)

It had been almost a month since we were introduced to the Greenfoot family, and things had been getting better. Kay’s concussion had finally cleared, the dizzy spells it caused now completely gone, and the large cut on her forehead was slowly losing its scabbing. We also found out, much to Kay’s relief, that her spinal injury was simply a bruised bone, and the blood-red bruising on her back had finally begun to turn into a mottled green-yellow.

As for me, my ribs were slow on their recovery journey, my breathing still painful from time to time depending how much rest I had that day. My ankle had stopped swelling finally, after Erard had found out I had been up and about too much for his liking and had threatened to twist the other ankle if I didn’t take bed rest. He came in once a week to check up on us and change my wrist splint, which apparently wasn’t going to fully heal for another 4-8 weeks, much to my disappointment. The large gash on my hand was my least favourite to think about – it was fine, not infected or anything, but it wasn’t nice to look at the reddened, gnarly raised skin, knowing that soon there would be an ugly white jagged scar replacing what was once the smooth skin of my palm. I also hated the fact that every time I looked at it, I would be reminded of what was probably the most terrifying and painful night of my life. But apart from that, all our other scratches and bruises had disappeared, apart from the larger cuts scarring slightly here and there.

A knock sounded at my bedroom door, and I was snapped out my thoughts as Kay called through, saying that Gladiola was in the kitchen with some of the clothes she’d made and if I was able to come out. Standing up from my bed, I approached the door and opened it, following Kay to the kitchen.

We spotted Mrs Greenfoot as we entered the kitchen, greeting her as she hauled a large bundle of cream coloured material onto the table. Pulling it apart, she separated it into two piles, picking something out of one of them, before unravelling it.

I gasped in delight as I recognised the shape of clothing that spanned that was longer than Gladiola herself.

“A shift!” I exclaimed excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to make one of these!”

“Well now you have one!” Gladiola announced proudly as she admired her work. “It’s only a simple undergarment, but the cotton is breathable enough for you both to wear it comfortably under any outfit.” She explained.

We both chattered excitedly with the hobbit, who had handed us our garments along with a set of cotton pants and a type of chest covering that was similar to a modern bra, and ushered us off to try them all on to check that they fitted well.

Twirling around, I admired the shift as much as I could in the small mirror on top of the dresser, watching as it swayed with my movement. It was only an undergarment, but for some reason it made me feel so happy and giddy inside.

Sitting on the bed, I slipped on the knitted socks, admiring the patterns in the cream colour that wound and twisted upwards until it reached halfway up my shins. Wiggling my toes at the soft feel of the wool, I stood up and bounded out the door, eager to show Mrs Greenfoot how well everything had fitted.

Kay appeared not long after me, sporting her own matching shift and set of socks. Gladiola was immediately upon us, tugging and prodding at the fabric to check if it fitted her standards. Apparently it did, and she relaxed back onto her heels with a satisfied huff.

“It looks like nothing needs adjusting, are you both happy with what you have so far?” she asked looking up at us. We both nodded with a ‘mhm’, smiles on our faces. “Brilliant, I best be off then, got a linen delivery coming in the hour.”

“Wait!” I blurted, and quickly hurried to the pantry, much to the surprise of the hobbit. I returned not long after with a basket in my arms, a light blue tartan cloth draped over the top of it, and handed it over. “We made some scones for you to take home, and there’s some clotted cream and strawberry jam that Bilbo taught us how to make in there as well.”

Gladiola let out a noise of delight as she lifted the cloth up to reveal a batch of giant scones, taking a deep breath of the freshly baked scents. We walked her to the door as she thanked us both, and waved as she disappeared down the hill.

Returning to our rooms as it was now late in the evening, I busied myself with tidying up, before sitting down and playing around with the ribbons on my dresser and trying to see what hairstyles suited the heatless curls I had put in last night . Deciding on a loose low ponytail that allowed my light fringe and curtain bangs to flow freely, I tightened the ribbon, and froze on the spot.

That same feeling had returned. The same one from almost a month ago when I thought I was going to be mauled to death by some ghost-looking beast. I still hadn’t decided whether it was a dragon or a demon yet, since my fear had blocked me from remembering the creature.

I forced myself to glance the my left, using the mirror to look at the wardrobe behind me that stood ominously in the faint glow of my candle. No blue. Thank god.

But that feeling didn’t leave.

It felt like a pull – a sudden motivation to do something you hadn’t thought of. But this time it didn’t pull me towards the wardrobe. Instead I felt it wanting me to walk out the door. I stood up, but not before I opened one of my drawers, taking the sharp sewing scissors and zipping them into the pocket of the waterproof coat I had worn when we dropped into Middle Earth. Slipping the coat over the shift I was wearing, I kept the wool socks on and slid on my walking boots, grimacing at the small splashes of old blood stains that scattered the material.

Picking up a lantern and lighting it, I quietly made my way through the hallways and reached the front entrance, before a voice called out.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I spun around, staring into the darkness that stretched beyond the light of my lantern, until I spotted a concerned Bilbo as he emerged from the shadows holding a candle.

“Uhhhhh, just for a walk.”

“At night.” He deadpanned.

“I think all this bed rest is making me restless.” I half-lied, since it was kinda true.

He eyed me suspiciously, but backed down. “Alright, but be no longer than half an hour.”

I nodded, and after he disappeared back into his room, I opened the door and crept into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 2 years

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Let me lend you a hand - Ithan x Reader (One Shot)

Brevity is the soul of the wit, but I can’t write anything short to save my life.

Word count: around 3300

Thread: Ithan and you are dating, but agreed on moving slow in terms of sex. Teasing him mercilessly at a party, Ithan can’t help but take care of himself in the bathroom - until you burst in.

Warnings: smutty (masturbation, handjobs, oral sex m receiving), mention of alcohol and drugs, slight dirty talk

The insistent drum of the bass pulsated through your whole body as you walked the packed hallways of Ruhn’s frat house. That is essentially what it was – a party house with as much alcohol as drugs, loud music played in every room and couples getting it on in most of the cozy nooks and empty rooms the house provided. Your mouth twisted into a smirk as you rounded a corner and almost ran into Flynn and a voluptuous, beautiful girl grinding against each other. By the sounds of her, she was enjoying herself very much, but that didn’t mean that you particularly enjoyed seeing Ithan’s house mate in full seduction mode.

Your steps quickened, hastily making your way to the living room where usually all the dancing – and therefore all the fun – happened. You pass the bar on your way, getting one of the premixed drinks before joining a cacophony of different people – fae, shifters, merpeople – on the dancefloor.

You didn’t go unnoticed. With your fitted, wine-colored dress that showed off your legs and left little to the imagination as to how you’re built, more than one pair of eyes followed your body as it moved to the melody. You felt utterly sexy tonight, and that colourful and sweet drink in your hand filled you with additional confidence.

But it was only one particular male whose attention and hands you wanted on you tonight and for the rest of your immortal life.

As if the thought of him summoned his presence, your head turned to his direction.

The crowd parted for Ithan Holstrom like he was a king among peasants. He looked like one too with his plain white but fitted shirt, dark pants and the pack tattoo on his neck. The sexiest thing about him though was the way he held himself. Just a little cocky, but so confident and sure of himself and his character that you couldn’t help but swoon.

When his eyes spotted you among your peers, he immediately pushed his way through the crowd to keep you company. While some males and females did drift towards you while you danced, they quickly tried to put distance between themselves and you now. Nobody was stupid enough to hit on you with your boyfriend in clear sight.

Ithan had finally reached you, pulling you into his body and effortlessly joining in on your movements. Your bodies fitted together perfectly. Ithan’s hands found their favourite spot on your hips, squeezing your flesh and guiding the sway of your hips to match his. His eyes never left your face as he now leaned his head towards you. “May I have this dance with you, mylady?”

Your head fell back in a burst of laughter. The irony of this oh-so-kind invitation and his body pressing so provocatively against you wasn’t lost on both of you. You stopped the dancing motion for a second to stand on your tiptoes and answer Ithan, “Of course, since you seem so much more polite that the other males in the room.”

Your boyfriend grinned at you, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he pulled you closer, flush to his chest. His breath tickled your ear. “I can be even more polite if you let me.”

Heat pooled immediately in your core at the sheer mention of intimacy. Ithan and you had been exclusive for about three months, having know each other through your friends before he gathered the courage to ask you out on a date. You had asked him to move slow in terms of sex and Ithan agreed with you, ever the gentleman. You loved the anticipation of it, the thrill whenever his hands grazed your sides or he kissed you a little deeper and longer than usual. Never knowing if tonight would be the night to take the next step.

The pull towards one another got worse and worse though, especially when he looked and said things like this.

You turned your body away from your boy, taking a step back to join your back with his chest again, and your rear with his crotch. Ithan’s hands snaked around your waist, holding your firmly. Even through this slight little touch you could guess his strength. Your bodies found their rhythm again.

Ithan’s breath started to quicken behind you. You grinned slightly to yourself, proud that you can rile this handsome male up by just dancing in front of him. Well, it also helped that your rear brushed against his rock-hard cock with every sway of your hips. Your intention had been to relief him a bit of his agony, but apparently you made it worse. Ithan lowered his head again to attach his lips to your bared neck, kissing it before biting gently into the soft skin with his canines. He grumbled into your ear. “Stop being such a tease.”

You angled your head slightly to give him more access to your neck, mumbling something along the lines of, “You started it.”. You found it harder and harder to form coherent thoughts, the drink and Ithan’s body so close to you muting your thoughts and pumping your blood through your veins at a punishing pace.

Ithan looked equally riled up, his eyes blazing through yours, and desire, plus something that almost looked like pain, written on every feature of his otherwise relaxed face. You wondered briefly if he had some sort of problem or sorrow he didn’t share with you, but decided against asking him in the middle of a crowded dancefloor. Especially when nearly everyone in this damn house had advanced hearing.

When the song ended to shift into hard rock – undoubtedly curtesy of Ruhn – both of you abandoned the dance floor to catch your breaths, walking towards the door hand in hand.

Outside of the house you found yourselves among other partiers, some smoking, some crying, some vomiting into the neatly trimmed garden. You snorted as you took in your peers, amused by their antics. Among them, a mass of shining, red hair, stood your friend Bryce.

“Y/N!!”, she screamed, waving her hand excitedly, “Ithan! Come over.”

You complied, pulling Bryce into a fierce hug when you reached her. Ithan hugged her briefly as well and after the initial pleasantries were exchanged, he turned towards you to plant a peck on your temple. “I’ll quickly go inside, yeah? I think Dec called me on the way out. Text me when you can’t find me again.”

Without as much as a glance in Bryce’s direction, he disappeared quickly back into the house. Your brows furrowed as you looked after him. You were absolutely sure Declan didn’t call him, your fae hearing would have undoubtedly picked it up, even over the loud music. There definitely was something wrong with Ithan tonight, and the thought didn’t leave your mind while you continued talking to Bryce. She just informed you of her latest night with the umbra mortis, never failing to be awfully explicit. You were happy for her though, and for Hunt as well as both of their lives were short of peace and calm, but a bit of jealously still settled in your stomach. Hearing about the bedroom adventures of other couples made you crave Ithan’s touch even more than you did the whole night. You barely continued listening to your friend as your mind drifted – to Ithan’s chinsed, hard muscles, his demanding lips leaving your breathless after their kiss, his form hovering over your smaller one, the undoubtedly hard other thing you felt previously and what he could do with it…

A loud laughter beside you drew you out of your daydream. You scolded yourself mentally for even thinking these things. Ithan clearly had some kind of trouble and his girlfriend had nothing better to do than drooling after him instead of offering her support. That settled your inner debate – you would find your boy and he’ll hopefully share his sorrows with you. After quickly saying your goodbyes to Bryce, you stumbled back into the house.

The stench that hit you was almost overwhelming. After you’ve been outside among the fresh air, the house smelled particularly awful – sweat mixed with arousal mixed with smoke. The air was thick, but you made your way through the crowd once more to find a trace of either Declan or Ithan, hopefully dragging him home to enjoy the rest of your night a little more calmly than this.

Declan was the first figure you spotted. Sitting on the sofa, a joint in his hand, your plopped next to him. “Hey Dec. I was looking for Ithan, did he tell you where he’s gone?”

Declan looked at you with confusion, the mirthroot clouding his gaze even further. “Ithan? I haven’t seen him in a few hours.”

Now it was your turn to look confused. Did he say that Declan called him, or was it Flynn?

“Oh, okay. I just thought he might have talked to you.”

Declan, ever the gentleman, offered a slightly slurred, “Should I help you look for him?”, which you politely declined. He probably wouldn’t find his own hand in this state.

Anxiety creeped into your mind now. Why would he excuse himself this hastily and then lie about were he was going? Your mind worked overtime, trying to figure out the place he most likely went to. Your gut twisted a bit at the thought that there might be another girl or boy that got his attention, but you suffocated it immediately. It was Ithan you were talking about. The male was loyal to a fault and would never hurt you that way.

With new intention in your step, you decided to check his room first. Opening one of the bedroom doors was always a risk during a party like this, but you were willing to face people in various stages of undressing to find him.

Having reached his room at the far end of the corridor, you knocked forcefully. Might as well give anyone a heads up before you entered, if they were in the right mind to listen and care. Finding the door unlocked, you pushed in slowly.

And faced a completely empty room.

Disappointed, you were about to change directions to check the second most likely place in the house – the billiards table – when you heard a muffled sound coming from his adjoined bathroom. There was a faint light streaming through the crack of the door onto the wooden floor of his bedroom which you hadn’t noticed before. And behind that door, someone was clearly in the middle of fucking, moaning and panting with abandon. Your heart sank.

It could be anyone, you told yourself. Anyone in this house could have used his bathroom for some more privacy.

You gathered your courage, calling “Ithan?”, hoping desperately that he wouldn’t answer. But your prayers weren’t heard.

The noises on the other side of the door halted abruptly. “Y/N?”

Oh gods, it definitely was Ithan behind the door. Fury forced its way through the sheer panic in your body. You couldn’t believe this. You had to see it with your own eyes.

Storming towards the door and yanking it open, you were surprised to find a semi-naked Ithan leaning with one hand against the sink – and nobody else in sight. His other hand was firmly closed around his cock, chest heaving with the in-draw of every fast breath.

He just stared back at you, body tense. Confusion was written all over your face, but only for a second. Then you understood, fighting back a laugh. The trouble Ithan was having apparently had something to do with your constant teasing and lack of sex. Ithan sensed your change of mood, lifting his eyebrows, a slightly bashful smile playing his lips. “Yes?”

He wasn’t too embarrassed about the situation, apparently.

Which in turn, took all the embarrassment from you, if you ever had it. Leaning against the doorframe, you eyed him up and down. This was clearly an opportunity you waited for, being thirsty for him the whole evening. And the past few weeks, if you were being honest.

With calm, sure movements, you let the door behind you close, facing Ithan. The music from downstairs still filtered through the walls, but your focus was solely on him.

“I was wondering if you need a little help?”, you asked finally, voice low.

Ithan forced out a breath. “Seems like I do.” He paused, remembering your agreement. “But only if you want to baby.”

Your answering smile told him enough as you crossed the remaining distance towards his form and positioned yourself in front of him. His hand still clasped the sink, knuckles white with held back desire, effectively closing your body in.

Slowly, while still keeping eye contact, you grabbed the wrist of his hand that gripped his cock, pulling it off him and placing it on the sink as well. His breathing grew even more ragged, and you haven’t even touched him yet. Oh, you were going to enjoy this way too much.

“Relax. Just let me take care of you.”, murmuring your reassurance, Ithan’s body let go of the built-up tension just a little. You moved your hand in front of your face, making a show in licking broad stripes up and down your palm and fingers, until you were satisfied with the moisture on in. Your boyfriend took the scene in, still unmoving and waiting patiently for your touch.

Then, your hand closed around his cock and began pumping him slowly.

Ithans head fell back with a groan. This was so much better than taking care of himself while daydreaming about you.

You pumped your hand up and down, slightly picking up the pace and gently twisting your wrist whenever you neared the tip on every stroke. Ithan felt so heavy in your hand, aching and desperate for release. You wondered how often during the last weeks he had excused himself from social situations to stroke himself, thinking about you.

Ithan’s hands wandered towards your waist again, squeezing slightly before leaning in and kissing you with abandon. He captured your lips in a sloppy kiss, parting them with his tongue to exploring your mouth while you explored other areas of him.

“Fuck”, he ground out against your mouth, panting heavily before connecting your lips again. He seemed so close to release, so you picked up the pace another notch, gliding over his length. The precum that leaked out of him eased your movements even more.

“How did you know this was exactly what I dreamt of?”, he whispered in your ear, slurring the words just a bit through his haze of desire. You doubled your efforts on him, other hand finding his heavy balls to cup and massage them. You never needed someone to cum more, and this wasn’t even your own climax you were talking about. Something about Ithan in this state was so incredibly intoxicating, how vulnerable his features went, how hard he tried to not just pounce on you, how he practically melted under your movements.

“Oh? What else did you dream of, Ithan?”, you teased him a little. Maybe sharing his fantasies helped in coaxing the climax out of him, and it also gave you more ideas on how to surprise him in the future.

Ithan huffed out a low laugh, now leaning his head fully on your shoulder. “I dreamt about your little hands, stroking me like they do now. Your soft, pink lips and how they would kiss me while doing it, how they would look wrapped around my cock. How your body would look like under me.” He took a big breath, the talking and pleasure making it difficult to get enough air, even for someone as athletic as him. “I’ve had about every fantasy under the moon when it comes to you.” He admitted finally. And that was your last straw too.

Absolutely overcome with desire yourself, you took away both of your hands from Ithan’s cock. He lifted his head from your shoulders, looking at you with the cutest puppy-eyes you’ve ever seen in such a situation you almost laughed. But you were a woman on a mission.

“Then let’s not keep these fantasies all hidden in your head, yeah?”

You held eye contact with your absolutely hypnotized boyfriend while you slowly sank to your knees. If he didn’t guess your intention from your words, there was no doubt about your plans now. Ithan let out another groan before you ever touched your lips to him. Alone the sight of you kneeling before him, the view of your beautiful face and your cleavage showing underneath almost had him finishing on the spot. But he wanted to feel you, desperately, so he held back a little longer.

Your tongue licked a broad stipe from the base of his cock towards his tip, collecting all the moisture from your previous ministrations. You let it swirl around his tip, once, twice, three times, before dipping slightly in the slit that now leaked with the biggest amount of precum you’ve ever seen.

Ithan’s hand found the side of your face, and you mentally prepared for him to just fuck into you himself, but instead he brushed back some of your hair and gently caressed your cheek with his thumb. The gentleness was so at odds with the whole situation, but it spurred you on more.

Opening your mouth, you began to suck in the tip of his cock. This barely-there pressure on him caused Ithan to mutter out a string of curse words, and you internally congratulated yourself on your ideas. You began bobbing your head up and down, taking more inches down your throat and increasing the pressure by sucking in your cheeks. When his cock brushed the back of your throat, Ithan hissed above you. “I’m close baby.”

You placed your hand around the missing few inches close to his base and then began to work both your hand and mouth in tandem. You also grabbed onto Ithan’s thighs, trying to steady your body and gain leverage to move with more force.

Ithan crumbled. His face fell slack. “Y/N!”

With your name on his lips, he came undone in your mouth. Spurting ropes and ropes of cum into your throat. You swallowed around him, gently massaging his cock to elongate his pleasure.

When he stilled over you completely, you released him from your mouth with a pop and, a bit stiff in the knees, stood up before him. While Ithan was still in heaven, at least judging by the look on his face, you quickly dressed him again, closing his pants and buckling his belt.

Ithan’s arms wrapped around you tightly. You rested your head right above his heart that still hammered mercilessly in his chest. Ithan’s hands caressed your back, stroking up and down in a silent thanks. “You have no idea how amazing that felt, y/n.”

His voice sounded rough, all raspy and unbelievably hot. You wondered if he would sound just like this after you would share a bed, or even better.

You raised yourself on your tiptoes, a smug tone in your voice. “You’re welcome.”

You kissed Ithan on the lips, letting him taste at least a hint of his own release. You both groaned at the touch, letting yourself get carried away in the kiss.

He pulled away after what felt like hours, dragging his thumb over your swollen and glistening lips. “According to the law, I need to pay back your efforts, you know.”

It was your turn to swallow now. Just the thought of Ithan’s lips on your pussy made you shiver uncontrollably. He smiled at you like he knows exactly what kind of effect he had on you. He could probably smell it too, now that his own arousal slowly cleared the air and made way for your scent.

“Then I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties.”, you finally answered. Ithan picked you up by your thighs, throwing you over his shoulder so that your upper body effectively dangled along his back. You squealed, slapping his butt playfully as he started moving out of the bathroom and towards his bed. You weren’t sure if you could take both sexy Ithan and cheeky Ithan at the same time, but you were more than willing to try.

#ithan holstrom #ithan holstrom smut #crescent city #ithan holstrom x reader #wolf pup with blue balls

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dreamingdarklyblog · 8 months

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Picking it Apart

So... Continuing my attempt to talk about what happened yesterday here. Picking up the thread from here. Trying to keep the threads from getting too long by breaking them up like this.

I started talking about how things "Feel" or how it feels like they "Work" in a response to a question, but I thought like it should get it's own post. To sort of repeat the start of that answer, to get us back into the topic...

Yeah there's some... Hangover. If that's what you want to call it. First there's a moment of realization. At least, the way he has it "wear off", is pretty sudden. Or was yesterday. And so there's a moment when suddenly I'm thinking "clearly". I use quotes because I'm not really, yet. But the strain of maintaining the suggestion is gone and I feel like a weight is lifted. Then in this specific case of course, the suggestions are About not thinking clearly... Being super suggestible, and... You know. Dumb.

I'm not sure how that "works" exactly? I guess I think of it like every thought or action I take is going through a filter. Looking back on it Now, after the fact, I can sort of see it, or remember it... At the time it's all kind of background processing. I'm not really aware of it. But thinking about it now I picture it like a flow chart, or an assembly line or something. Throughput gets fed into the little "Suggestion" box, and comes out the other end altered. Very different meaning of suggestion box huh? There's definitely a story idea in there...

A thing happens, a stimulus, something that provokes a response. My natural response fires, whatever it is, but then goes into a filter that checks against whatever suggestion is running through my head, and it gets tweaked. Then it goes into the next one, and the next one, and keeps getting altered. Until finally it hits my conscious mind and goes out into the world as the response to the stimulus.

That's just how I'm thinking of it of course. The actual experience, now that I feel more aware of it, is more like just a hanging moment. Like this brief "Uhhh" moment, where my thoughts kind of hang, like the beach ball on a laggy computer, before I catch up and react.

I suppose in some ways a "Dumb" suggestion is one of the easiest to hold onto. Because most suggestions tend to slow down my thinking anyway, it's sort of a natural result. If I'm labouring under the weight of a pile of complicated things, I get pretty slow even if that's not the intention. Not so much the "bimbo" persona, of course, but just the difficulty understanding, slow to react, sluggish sort of dumb =/

That's just if there's a LOT going on though. Usually the hanging thought is very brief. Not even noticeable really, from outside anyway. At least not that I know of. The more there is going on though, the longer it gets, until it's very noticeable.

Ooof... Anyway

In the moment yesterday I wasn't really noticing any of that. I just felt... Slow. Thick. Dumb. Everything was kind of confusing. Hard to process. Difficult to understand. Everything felt like an art film with an obscure theme, or a trying to wrap my head around the mechanics of the squeeze theorem.

My writing partner would offer up other thoughts, and I would latch onto them like I was drowning and they were a life preserver. Like it was difficult to come up with any on my own, and starved for input my mind would just accept anything it came across. Anything he said...

It's honestly really hot thinking about it. Also rather conflicting and embarrassing >_<

Anyway... Thats's where a lot of my thoughts at the time were coming from. Wanting Bigger Tits... Wanting to post here... To tell you all about how much I'd been rubbbing all day... How excited I was to turn everyone on and tell them about it...

Aaand now I'm not sure where to go with this post. Or how to end it.

Liriel out?

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sailorsirius · 2 years

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I Didn’t Meet Zachary This Weekend

I was going to wait until I felt a little more ready to type all this out, but I'm starting to forget important details, so I need to go ahead and do it if I'm going to.

I was supposed to meet Zachary this past weekend. I didn't. I don't know why.

There was kind of a big, slow, potent lead-up to the realization that I would specifically be meeting him in the flesh at Comicpalooza. I did a reading with Archangelhypnosis. I even got a bunch of crystals and jewelry for various purposes, which isn’t normally something I’d do; but since it felt like I was being instructed to procure these things for this specific purpose, I did it anyway. (They worked, by the way. To my complete surprise.)

Evie warned me that this could be a distressing experience. She mentioned that there would be negative energies attempting to antagonize me or delay or prevent my meeting Zach, and boyyyy were they trying it. Shit kept happening left and right: M suddenly not being able to make it to the convention one of the three days and me scrambling to figure out a way to go anyway; not feeling well physically; being absolutely inundated with negative thoughts and doubts that were most certainly not coming from my own mind; meditating just before I left for the first day, only to be interrupted back to back to back to back with notifications on my phone despite having turned notifications off.

But to be honest, I was like… lmao fuck you, get out of my way. I wasn’t really concerned about it, because I was going to see this through. I was going to find Zach no matter how hard it got.

I looked so fucking cute, man. I got myself a bunch of temp tattoos and put them all over. I did my makeup all nice and my hair in a way I never would have thought to do before--again, that feeling like I was being instructed to do so. Like I was cosplaying as myself, or as Jessie, so he would recognize me when he saw me.

It didn't happen on Friday. But that's okay, I didn't think it would. It definitely felt like it'd be Saturday. That night, he came to me in a dream and kissed me right on my third eye. Once, twice, three times, like he didn't want to stop kissing me. It was so beautiful and sweet. I knew that was important. It felt like encouragement.

Saturday came. I had my crystals with me. I had my mind right. I felt relatively relaxed. I wandered through the exhibitor hall and could see shifting and intermingling of everyone's energies--something in the past I’ve only been able to feel, and not in more than a rudimentary sense. I saw signs everywhere, like walking by the witchy booth that just happened to have the Lovers card first in a stack on their table, and then looking up and just happening to see an encouraging number. There are so many other things, I can't remember all of them.

At one point, I felt so at peace and felt his presence so strongly in that room that I asked him, “Where are you?”

"Close," he said. I could feel the smile in his voice. He was right there. He could have been any of the hundreds of people in that hall. He told me to stay calm and focused. Hold onto the thread, follow it. “Come find me.”

I fucking tried so hard. I was right there. HE was right there.

I don't know what happened. It was like someone pulled the plug out of the wall. Suddenly, I didn't feel him there anymore. The color drained out of my surroundings. I had been given the gift of seeing distinct energies around me, but that was gone now. I went home absolutely exhausted and came back on Sunday to that same feeling that he was simply not there. I even asked him, "Are you here?"

The silence was profound.

I cried for three days. I still don't get it, and I get the feeling I'm not supposed to know what happened. My first thought was that I had slid into Having Expectations, but we'd gotten so far! Surely we wouldn't have made it that far if I was doing something wrong. Was it one of the handful of people I thought could be him, and I'd convinced myself they weren't and ruined it? No way. I would have known immediately and without question that it was him. Or, he would have bridged the gap. I also thought maybe Angel Michael had been wrong, but I don't think it's that either. I just don't understand–if it wasn't going to happen, why did we get SO CLOSE?

It's been really hard to think about Zach and excruciating trying to work myself out of that RSD "I've been rejected and abandoned and I never deserved to have this anyway" hole. He's been right next to me all week, feeling just as disappointed and confused as me. He's letting me figure it out and he's not taking it personally when I don't want to think about him because it hurts too much. But it's still such a comfort to feel him there even if it's not in the flesh like I thought it would be. I know we're still going to meet–that's the whole point of this life. To find him and fulfill our role together. But damn if this wasn't one of the most painful and exhausting experiences of my life.

Evie kindly checked in on me when she didn’t hear back about whether I’d found him or not. She offered me commiseration–apparently she’d been through this several times before she finally found Luther. She also offered to ask Michael about it in the next session they did. His counsel was that Zach had succumbed to interruptions; he also said that there would be many more opportunities to meet… and that we live very close to each other. Which is fantastic if true, but knowing myself, I’ll be looking for him everywhere I go until I figure out how to let this just be what it is.

Never in my LIFE did I think this would be so grueling, oh my god. I’m so tired, and I feel like we’ve only just started.

Original post

#zachary #cosmic twins #twin flames #alien papers

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righteousmade · 6 years

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side note; i need to write me some janders things

#there tends to be this instability and imbalance of power involved with justice and anders #how justice turned vengeance is this somewhat rejected thing #symbiotic and feeding on an anger that will never waver nor disappear #and i kind of want threads where sure that's what happens - the slow turn of a good spirit in a sense #the taint and how it poisons and seeks destructive absolutes #but also imagine if there was balance; there was stability amd control and #justice and anders were well and truly one and beyond capable #imagine a spirit healer that's spirit touched to that level (wynne sure exists! there is no denying that) but still #there has to be some hella tapped raw power there that becomes understood #and im just rambling but yeah #i want me some of that boi

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moonlit-jeno · 3 years

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friends (m.)

pairing: lee jeno x fem reader

genre: explicit sexual content | omegaverse | heat sex | unprotected sex | some name calling

words: 3.6k

don’t like don’t read :)

“Your heat’s coming up.” Jeno says, point blank in between bites of his apple. You just nod, taking a break from your notes to side eye him. It’s not odd for him to know intimate details of your life- you do make sure to keep him updated on your cycle just so that he can send you the notes for the days you miss - but it’s not exactly a common subject for the two of you. “Who are you spending it with?”

There are still 13 powerpoint slides for you to grind through, but you figure a small break won’t hurt. Might as well use the conversation topic for something good, aka a reason to slam your laptop shut. You turn to Jeno, giving your best friend your full attention, and take the iced coffee right out of his hand. He doesn’t protest. “No idea. Would call Jaemin but he’s ‘found the one’ or something, so I’ll probably just spend it by myself.”

“By yourself?” Jeno’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as if you’ve just admitted to committing a sin. It’s not like the concept isn’t unheard of, there’s a market full of toys to help you through it. “Isn’t that dangerous?” You shrug and take a sip of the coffee, offering him your smoothie in exchange. He takes a sip and then bites down on your straw. His entire face scrunches and he yanks his face away from the beverage. He pulls the straw up, inspecting the now soggy and dented object with disgust. “Fuck, what is this made out of?”

“Paper.” You huff a laugh out through your nose, taking your smoothie back. “And I mean, it’s not any more dangerous than spending your heat with the wrong person. Plus, my heats get kind of… intense.” If Jaemin sleeping for three days straight and limping after is anything to go by, both parties take the short end of the stick. You’d felt so bad after and apologized to him profusely, but he had just thrown you his signature dazzling grin and told you that drowning in pussy was exactly the way he envisioned himself dying. He definitely didn’t complain about the brownies you’d baked him as a ‘thank you’, though.

“Spend your heat with me.” The bold request has your brain malfunctioning, at a loss for where to even start reacting to his statement. You just stare at him, mouth opening and closing repeatedly while he returns the gaze earnestly. “Look, it makes sense, right? I know you better than anyone, and you already trust me. Plus if they’re as intense as I’ve heard they are, you need someone there.”

You frown, opening your laptop up and staring blankly at the screen just to avoid having to look at Jeno. It does make sense to have him there with you, and it’s not like he’s the worst person to have sex with. Plenty of people around campus have delighted in talking about their nights with Jeno, dreamily telling you how lucky you are to have him and falling deaf to your insistence that the two of you aren’t like that. Plus, you’re not blind and even if you’re not the cute couple everyone thinks you are, you can admit that he’s hot.

“Wait, hang on. What do you mean ‘heard’ about? What shit is Na Jaemin saying?” Jeno’s shoulders shake with his laughter at your sudden concern. “I mean, he didn’t say anything, but that was kind of the problem. He didn’t show up to practice for like a week and when he finally did, he looked like he’d been mauled. Coach had to bench him.”

Your heart drops slightly at hearing that Jaemin’s soccer had been affected. He hadn’t told you that. “Oh.” The guilt must show on your face because Jeno is quickly soothing you, making sure to tell you that they all found Jaemin’s state funny. “Okay, wait. Wouldn’t you have the same problem if you help me?”

“It’s off-season. So, what do you say?” Jeno waits for your response expectantly, eyes soft, curious. “You can say no, y/n. I don’t want to pressure you at all, I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.” “I’ll think about it.” And you do. A concerning amount.

You spend that night tossing and turning, trying and failing to shut your brain off. Worries about ruining your friendship and about hurting Jeno bounce around your brain no matter how much you try to stop thinking about it. What if something bad happens during it? What if you never talk again? And worst of all is your brain telling you that he doesn’t actually want you specifically, he just wants to be with an omega in heat. You’re just convenient.

That thought actually makes you cry and you wrap your blankets even tighter around yourself, sobbing weakly into your pillows. In an effort to distract your wandering mind you grab for your phone, opening instagram to find an influx of dm’s from Jeno. It calms you a bit, the messages ranging from cute dogs to absolutely cursed memes, and you smile softly at the reminder that he’s your best friend, and that he definitely cares about you. Biting your lip, you hesitate for only a few moments before typing out a “you can help”, hitting send before you can second guess it. You lock your phone and set it face down on the dresser, thankfully finding sleep as soon as your head hits the pillow.

It’s hot when you wake up, clothes clinging to your skin uncomfortably. Peeling your shirt off only gives you relief for a moment but then the sticky heat is back full force. You whimper in misery, trying to snuggle back into your bed for at least some comfort, but you find that the corner of your fitted sheet has come up, the rest of your blankets on the floor. There’s only one pillow near you and it’s soaked in sweat. You panic slightly, frantically yanking your sheets back onto the bed and trying to fluff them up as much as possible, only calming down once the bedding has been fixed to your liking. Only once you’ve settled down in the plushness of your blankets do you have a moment of clarity.

“Oh shit.” You shoot up and search for your phone, dropping it once before finally managing to open the correct app. There’s a few messages from Jeno that you don’t bother looking at, going straight for the ‘call’ button. He picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” He sounds groggy, like he’s just woken up, and a flash of heat runs through you at the low tone. “Why are you calling me at 5 a.m?”

You manage to stop fantasizing about your best friend long enough to choke out the word “Heat.” It comes out pathetic and whiny and you pause to clear your throat, trying to keep a clear head as well. “I’m sorry, my heat came early and I wanted to call you but you can go back to bed, I didn’t realize-”

“Fuck, okay, I’ll be over in 10.” Jeno cuts off your rambling with a swear, some rustling in the background accompanying his words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, setting the phone down and curling up in bed, trying not to focus on how agonizingly slow the time is passing.

Jeno’s looking down at his shoes when you open the door, kicking idly at the door mat and fidgeting with the bag in his hands, though his head snaps up when he notices you. The smile on his face falters when he inhales, turns a little strained as he gets a taste of your heat, and you honestly give him props for the amount of restraint he has. It’s definitely more than you have, at least, because you’re on him the second he’s inside. He ends up sandwiched between you and the door, bag dangling precariously in one hand while he envelopes you in his strong arms. You don’t (can’t) do anything besides bury your face in his chest and whimper, knowing exactly what you want but being too needy and fuzzy to remedy it.

“Jeno, it hurts.” You whimper and lift your face to nose along the skin just above the collar of his shirt, finding that while the skin to skin contact helps, it doesn’t fully relieve the heat scorching through you, the dull ache screaming for Jeno to take you already. “Please…” He holds you closer to his chest, encasing you fully in his scent, and picks you up bridal style. “I’ve got you baby, don’t worry.”

Being around Jeno does help to ease your stress, but it also serves to make you needier. The warm scent that you’ve grown to associate with the man is stronger than you’ve ever smelled it and it’s making you lose your mind more and more by the second. You’re worried that you’re drooling by the time he sets you down on your bed. He pauses to drop the bag he’s holding on the floor, and then he’s on top of you, strong arms caging you in.

The first kiss is soft, chaste. It would be cute if you weren’t so fucking needy, but you are and it’s just not enough. Unsatisfied, you thread your fingers through his hair and tug, nipping at his bottom lip and tilting your head to the side to get a deeper angle. A groan rumbles in his chest and he returns the kiss with more intensity, trying to take control again. You don’t let him, even if every instinct in your body is screaming at you to just submit.

Jeno shifts on top of you, scooting so that he can fully lay down between your legs. You wrap your limbs around him on instinct, pulling him as close as you possibly can and- oh. The close proximity means that you feel everything when he grinds down, and the feeling of having him so close to where you need him has any semblance of control that you had draining out of your body. You gasp pitifully, annoyance clawing at you from the amount of fabric blocking you from what you want.

“Please,” You almost sob, tugging at his shirt while trying to grind your lower half against his, the pressure of his cock against your center making your eyes roll. Jeno pulls back to yank his shirt off and then he’s back, hands sliding down your body to your panties, tugging the fabric down as far as he can before he growls in frustration and just rips the fabric in half.

“Shit, you’re so wet.” Jeno moans in awe, breaking the kiss yet again to marvel at your pussy. “Bet I could just slip right in.” He drags his fingers through the slick on your upper thighs, eyes glued between your legs. You’re just about to complain when he finally presses his fingers into you. The initial relief has you moaning sweetly, though it quickly turns to impatient pleas for his cock. You clench around his fingers, reaching a hand down to palm over where he strains against his sweats.

“I need you to fuck me.” You beg, looking at him with what you hope is a convincing expression. “Please Jen, I need you.” “You have me.” He promises you, flicking his wrist faster, curling his fingers just right. “I’m right here baby.” It’s sweet, and under normal circumstances it would be enough, but right now it’s not what you need and the frustration has you on the brink of tears.

You buck your hips and try to arch up as if it’ll magically make him slip in, but Jeno remains as patient and controlled as ever. It’s too hot and every part of your body is screaming for him to fuck you, for him to claim you, and his refusal is killing you. “Alpha please, I need you.”

He absolutely snarls, pinning down your wriggling body with one hand around your throat. The other hand stays between your legs where it continues to strike pleasure into every single nerve ending you have, adding to the fire already coursing through your veins. “What you need is to take what your Alpha’s giving you. You’re not in charge here, okay?” With his face pressed so close to yours you have no choice but to make direct eye contact, staring straight into the most intense gaze you’ve ever seen. His pupils are blown out so wide that his eyes are almost black. Unable to tear your eyes away and as if in a trance, you find yourself nodding. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Good girl. Now listen to your Alpha and cum.”

It happens almost instantaneously, as if his words were directly connected to a trigger, your body exploding just as soon as the words leave his mouth. Your entire body locks up, mind going blank as the immense pleasure takes hold of you, leaving you clawing at his back and screaming silently into the air.

The orgasm only serves to thicken the haze in your mind, clouding any thoughts that aren’t related to the Alpha above you and his cock. It takes a moment for your eyes to finally come back into focus enough to make out your surroundings, and you’re greeted by the sight of Jeno with his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence off of his digits. You’re burning so hot, so much hotter than you think you’ve been before, and it’s hard for you to function. All you can think about is his cock.

“Please,” You beg, swatting at him weakly. “Alpha please, I need you so bad.”

There’s no way that Jeno isn’t being affected by the pheromones clouding the air, but he manages to appear unbothered, his actions rough but nowhere near as desperate as yours. He just laughs lightly at your begging. “Aww, baby needs me?” The rhetorical question is punctuated by a slap, his hand coming down on your pussy hard enough to draw a yelp from you, thighs closing on his hand in a conflicting attempt to relieve the pressure from the hit and keep his hand on your cunt. He laughs meanly and pulls his hand away, drawing back slightly to spit onto your already soaking pussy, rubbing the spit into your skin while he talks. “This pussy belongs to me, yeah? You’re mine now.” Jeno leans down, mouth at your neck so that he can bite at the skin. “That means that I can do whatever I want with you.” You can’t speak, can’t even begin to think about what you should say in this situation. He presses a kiss to your jaw before pulling back and uses his free hand to turn your head so that you make eye contact with him. “Tell Alpha what you need.” “Need Alpha in me.” You beg, plead, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees and arching your back, presenting yourself to him. “Need your knot, need you to fill me up, breed me, Alpha please-” Your sentence is cut off by his cock slamming into you, the filthy sound being drowned out by his groan. You gasp in relief, breathy thank you’s leaving you with each powerful thrust he delivers. His cock stretches you out so well, makes you go dizzy with the relief of finally having him in you. Your elbows give out nearly instantly, your chest hitting the mattress, and Jeno takes instant advantage of the new position to pull your hips even higher into the air.

It’s so good- almost too good- and it leaves you drooling and clawing at the sheets. All you can focus on is how well he’s fucking you, how he’s going to fill you up so well, breed you like he was meant to.

You scream when he pulls out, alarm bells going off as your body instantly protests. It only lasts a second though, Jeno’s hands never leaving your body as he flips you onto your back.

“Couldn’t see you,” Jeno pants out, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth and pushing back in, returning back to the brutal rhythm he had before. It has your eyes rolling in your head at how fucking good he feels. “My pretty baby, taking everything I give her.”

He’s got you so fucked out that you don’t even realize your tongue is hanging out of your mouth until he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out even more. “You love my cock, hmm? You love everything I give you.” The pad of his thumb rubs over your tongue, the sensation making your toes curl and tears slide down your cheeks. “Such a fucking needy omega, isn’t that right?” He tugs on your tongue, your head following his actions as he leads you into nodding.

Jeno laughs and lets go of your tongue, dropping his face down to kiss at your neck. He sucks mark after mark into your skin, licking over each one to soothe it after, until he finally gets to your most sensitive, vulnerable spot. Even just the feeling of him close to your mating mark has your entire body aching for it, your neck craning to the side and pushing into his touch. The leverage you get from your legs wrapped around his waist has him pushing even deeper into you and you can feel his knot at your entrance, not quite fully swollen but definitely getting there. It has you absolutely keening, the thought of being so totally owned making you desperate.The sweet drag of his cock along your walls paired with the absolute filth he’s spewing has your body locking up with no warning, your orgasm ripping through you. You arch off the bed, the action only pushing you further onto his cock.

“God y/n, fuck!” Jeno curses, slamming his hips into you with even more force, his knot popping into your entrance and forcing the neediest sound you’ve ever made to leave your lips. You desperately wrap your limbs around him, trying to get him even closer, digging your heels into his ass to push him further inside. He grinds his hips against you one, two, three more times before he shudders, teeth clamping down right on your sweet spot as he comes. Jeno seems to come forever, filling you up with delicious warmth, making your body purr in satisfaction. He finally comes down, having the clarity of mind to tip the two of you onto your sides so that he doesn’t crush you when he collapses. He still tugs you close, arm thrown around your body possessively, his chin resting atop of your head.

“Told you it was intense.” You laugh out, trying to break the silence in the room. The heat’s subsided for now, but you’re still barely in your mind, and you have no idea how long the break will last.

He huffs out a laugh, chest shaking against you. “I understand Jaemin now.” His hand pets over your back, sliding up to the back of your neck and scratching lightly at the skin there. “You alright?” “Mhmm, yeah. Perfect.” His fingertips press lightly against the mating mark, sending sparks shooting down your spine, and it has your head spinning. You try to adjust yourself against him in an effort to keep your cool, but moving has his cock shifting inside of you and you sleepily grind against him, not thinking. Jeno hisses and tightens his grip on you to keep you still, but the way he grabs your leg has him shifting inside of you and pressing against all the right places. Heat floods through you and your grinding turns more urgent.

“Ohgod,” You moan, finding enough strength to push Jeno flat on his back. Your body has a mind of its own and you find yourself bouncing desperately on his cock. His knot has you locked into place and you’re barely able to move, but you can still swirl and grind your hips against him, feel the delicious friction of his knot against your entrance. “Alpha, it feels so good.”

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking knotdrunk, hmm? Can’t get enough.” Jeno shakes his head, laughs in a way that’s meant to mock you but it comes out strained. His hands are heavy on your ass, squeezing and slapping to feel the way it jiggles, to feel the way you clench around him with every hit. You throw your head back and let him do as he pleases, losing yourself entirely in how full you feel, in how good his knot feels in you. He buries his face into your chest, moving one hand from your ass to play with your tits, his mouth wasting no time in marking the delicate skin up.

“Shit baby, gonna make me cum again.” His lips seal over your mating mark again in a sloppy kiss and that’s exactly the final push that you need, your eyes rolling back and your tongue lolling out as your cunt spasms around him, orgasm ripping through you almost painfully. Jeno groans as well, hand flying to your back to pull you as close as possible, and his knot pulses inside of you as you swear you feel more cum shoot out.

He shudders against you, tight grip finally relaxing, though he still keeps you anchored to his chest. You follow suit, collapsing against him. A tired moan leaves you and you let yourself relax, lips absentmindedly mouthing at his skin. His hand pets your back soothingly, touch heavy and sluggish, and the last thing you feel before you fall asleep is his lips on your forehead.

#jeno smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #00 line smut #kpop smut #lee jeno smut

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diaphragmjellyfish · 3 years

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Research

Finally wrote something again! Sorry it took so long.

How exactly do you get a dog to lose your scent? Because avoiding your werewolf boyfriend Embry was proving a lot harder than you had anticipated. Last weekend was… eventful. You guys had finally done it. Gone all the way. After 6 months of dating and an imprint bond, you both finally decided you were ready to take that next step. And you’ve only had one thought since that night.

That shit hurted.

It was borderline unbearable. The pain was searing. You lied there until Embry was done, faking moans and even faking the Big O, and you were less than eager to do it again. Were you broken? He seemed to enjoy it, so obviously you were to blame. He’d been super clingy and lovey since that night, even more so than usual, and you didn’t have the heart to be around him knowing you had faked it like that. What if he found out? He’d be crushed. What if he wanted to do it again? You couldn’t take that pain another night. What if he faked it too and was going to break up with you the next time he saw you? Yeah, no. Avoidance was the way to go.

He wanted to take you out to see a movie. You mysteriously came down with a case of allergies in the middle of winter.

He wanted to pick you up after school and give you a ride home. You had the sudden urge to join a club that was meeting after school that day.

He called, your phone was on silent.

He texted, you suddenly became illiterate.

But he kept trying. God, why was he making this so difficult?! Thoughts like this swirled through your head as you walked the long way home from school. He knew your usual route, so obviously that was out of the question. You took a path through the woods that would eventually spit you out right by the beach where you could sit and think. The forest had always felt like a second home to you. Peaceful, comfortable, private. You walked for some time before hearing twigs snapping in the distance. Probably a rabbit or something. Louder snapping. Bigger sticks. Definitely not a rabbit. You halted, waiting for the creature to pass, when a large gray wolf stalked out of the trees.

Damn.

He was wearing the softest, cutest, most “kicked puppy” look on his face that you had ever seen. Head bowed, he walked up to you slowly, whining. So he had noticed your avoidance. You held your hand out to him, petting the thick fur between his ears. He sniffed your hand, giving it a soft lick.

“Hi,” you whispered. He whined louder at this. “Embry…” you started, before he crouched down, a silent cue for you to get on his back. He waited.

Guess this was inevitable. And at least him showing up in wolf form gave you some time to think about how exactly you would explain what had happened. With another soft sigh, you climbed up on his back, holding the fur tightly as he trotted off into the trees. After about 5 minutes, you realized that he was taking you to Sam and Emily’s house. You weren’t in the mood to be around the rest of the pack right now.

“Embry, I’m kind of busy today. I don’t really have time to hang out with the pack.”

He ignored you, trotting along as if your statement was the buzz of a mosquito in his ear. When you reached the house, however, you quickly realized that no one else was there. They must all be out. It was a Friday afternoon, after all.

When you reached the lawn, Embry stopped and crouched once more so you could dismount. When you did, he ran off behind the house, walking back out several minutes later as the inky-haired boy you had grown to love. His face was full of sadness, yours full of anxiety.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

You silently followed him down the path that led to the cliffs, waiting for him to say something else. He never did, only kept walking. You struggled to keep up, but were too stubborn in your silence to ask him to slow down. You both finally reached the rocky cliffs jutting out over the frigid ocean. He stopped, staring out at the horizon. You paused next to him, waiting. After another several minutes of silence, you grew impatient.

“It’s supposed to snow Monday,” you said.

You waited. Silence.

“The news said they might even cancel school.”

A pause. Nothing.

“I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a three day weeken-”

“Is there something you want to tell me?” he cut you off, seeming agitated. For as long as you’d known Embry, he was never in a bad mood. Never anything but happy. Maybe sad on a few occasions, but never angry. Never frustrated. And it was making you nervous.

And now it was your turn to be silent. Yes! You wanted to say. You hurt me! But you couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He didn’t do it on purpose, so why would you make him feel guilty about something that was your problem and your problem alone?

“Because, if I’m counting correctly, it’s been 5 days since I’ve so much as heard from you. Barely a text back. Not a call, not a ‘hey! I’m super busy this week.’ Why are you avoiding me? I thought… after last weekend, we should be more in love than ever right?! Did it not mean anything to you?”

You remained quiet, tears pooling in your eyes. You gave no sign that you were going to respond, so he kept going.

“Just tell me where your fucking head is at, Y/N. You can’t keep brushing me off like this. Did I do something wrong? Do you regret what we did? Am I, like… not ripped enough for you or something?”

“Embry, no,” you pleaded. You could see the insecurity behind his eyes. You had to tell him what was going on, but you knew it would crush him. “It’s not that at all.”

He waited. “Then what?”

You closed your eyes, a tear slipping down your face. You wiped it away quickly before taking a deep breath. “I have been avoiding you.” You looked up at his face at this, finding tears building up in his own eyes. “I love you, Embry. But last weekend, just… I can’t do that again.”

He clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but your face and nodded. He was hurt. You definitely could have worded that better.

“Let me explain,” you pleaded. He wouldn’t look at you still, but didn’t walk away, so you kept going. “I think I might be broken or something, because that… It didn’t feel right.”

At this, he looked back at your face, switching from hurt to concerned almost immediately.

“Why would you think you’re broken?”

Another pause. “I know you would never hurt me on purpose…”

“You were in pain?” he panicked, fresh tears pricking in his eyes.

“It’s not your fault,” you hurried. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Why would you let me keep going?!”

“I’m sorry!” you cried, causing him to walk up and embrace you. You sobbed into his chest as he pet your hair, all signs of anger gone. “You were having a good time, and I didn’t wanna ruin it, but it hurt so bad…”

“Shhhhh,” he cooed as he rocked you from side to side, letting you calm down. “It’s okay.”

After several minutes, you finally stopped crying. He didn’t falter in his embrace, only left light kisses on your forehead and cheek.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

“It’s not your fault,” you replied.

“Yes, it is. I’m supposed to take care of you. It was my job to make you feel good, and you were hurting that bad and I didn’t even notice.” You sniffled, just enjoying being in his arms. A few more minutes passed as you both calmed down.

“To be fair, I did take a drama class last semester. I’d say I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you added weakly, an attempt to lighten the mood.

He huffed a laugh, if for no other reason than to make you feel better. “Had me fooled,” he added.

You smiled, looking up at him. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.”

“It’s okay. I just wish you would have told me as soon as it started to hurt that you wanted to stop.”

“I know. I should have, I just got all in my head about it.”

“And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll never forgive myself, and I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore,” he answered, nervously awaiting your response.

“I forgive you. And of course I still want to be with you, Embry. I love you. We just need to work on our communication skills a little bit,” you laughed.

“We do. And I’ll start. I would really love another chance to make you feel good. If you promise to be honest about how you’re feeling, I know I can do a way better job. But I understand completely if you wanna wait a while… or if you never wanna do it again. You’re in charge here.”

His words had your heart melting. He really did care about you, and you knew that if you had told him in the moment that you were in pain, he would have done anything to get you feeling good. You were always his first priority.

“I’d be willing to try again, but what we did last time didn’t work. I think we need to think of some new techniques or something,” you mumbled shyly.

“Tell you what. I’ll do some research, get some stuff, and you can come over tonight… if you want to. And we can maybe try again? And if you get there and aren’t feeling up to it, we can just watch a movie and cuddle. No pressure… I just miss you.”

You thought for a second. Worst case scenario, you’d cuddle on the couch and eat junk food. You trusted Embry completely, and if you said stop, you knew he would.

“Okay,” you replied.

__________________________________

After a long shower, some fresh makeup, and a cute-yet-comfortable outfit, you were ready to go over to Embry’s. Sure, the nerves were kicking in, but you trusted him when he said he would do some research. When you pulled up, he was already standing in the doorway smiling. You ran out and gave him a giant bear hug (or wolf hug), and he picked you up and carried you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot.

“I missed you,” he said, face buried in your hair.

“You saw me like 3 hours ago,” you giggled in response.

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you all week! Gotta get my Y/N fill or I might die!”

You laughed loudly, hands threading up into his hair as he sat down on the bed with you seated in his lap.

“Yeah, yeah, just try not to crowd me,” you cheekily replied.

He raised an eyebrow before tackling you back onto the bed, tickling you like a maniac and placing playful kisses all over your face and neck.

“Like this?! Don’t crowd you like this?”

“Embry stop!” you laughed, trying to suck in a breath between his manic tickles. When he finally stopped, he was lying between your legs, one hand grasping both your wrists above your head, the other propped beside you so as to not crush you. He stared lovingly at your face before leaning down and placing a soft kiss on your lips. His grip on your arms loosened, as if to say You can stop me anytime, but you didn’t. You kissed him back, arms staying in place to tell him that you were okay.

The kisses grew slightly more heated, but Embry kept them gentle. And every time you thought he was about to take things to the next step, he’d just kiss you some more. You were growing slightly impatient, breath labored and blood pumping fast. Your stomach became slightly warm, and every time you leaned up, he’d pull away.

“You’re being mean,” you whimpered.

He just looked at you and smirked before leaning down and capturing your lips once more. You could feel your blood heat in every part of your body. From your head to your toes, you felt warm and fuzzy, yet desperate for more,,, more touch, more pressure, more Embry. Growing frustrated, you hooked your legs around his waist and tried your best to pull him closer, unintentionally grinding your hips into his. When he brushed up against your core, you let out an involuntary sigh. It actually felt nice. He smiled into the kiss, pulling his lips away from yours and dragging them down to your jaw, and then your neck, suckling and sucking and leaving light red marks that made your head spin. The hand that was holding your wrists came down behind your back and up into your hair, firmly pulling your head back to give him better access to your neck.

This movement made your entire back arch up into his body. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, lips sucking your skin up into his mouth as he nibbled, before soothing with his tongue. Your toes curled, legs pulling him impossibly closer. When he felt this, he ground his hips down into yours. The combination of his hands, lips, and weight on top of you made you let out a gasp. Your hands held onto his shoulders for dear life, pulling his shirt up in an attempt to take it off. He got the hint and sat up to remove it, being away from your body for far too long for your taste. He didn’t lower fully back down, however, instead sliding his warm hands under your shirt and onto your stomach. You sat up, taking your sweatshirt off and throwing it violently across the room. His eyes widened as they looked down at your bare chest in an almost feral fashion. He gripped your thighs, tugging you down the bed with ease, and resuming his position on top of you, hands roaming all over your torso. He cupped your breasts gently, rolling your nipples softly between his fingers. You shut your eyes and threw your head back, enjoying the sensations. His kisses trailed from your neck and down to your chest, softly. Lovingly. When he reached your nipples, his tongue poked out and licked around each of them, before taking them into his mouth and sucking. His hands continued to caress your back, and he took his sweet time switching from one breast to the other, and back again, until he felt your skin grow almost as hot as his. You were writhing underneath him, panting as your mind tried to comprehend the sensations. And his mouth, God it was so warm. You felt him kiss the undersides of your breasts, and then your stomach, and then lower…

When he reached the waistband of your leggings, he brought his hands up as if to pull them off of you. He stopped, looking up at you for permission. You gave a lazy nod Yes, and lifted your hips to help him. He pulled your underwear off as well, spreading your legs and almost salivating at the sight of your soaking pussy. Not wanting to waste another second, he once again began placing kisses on your lower stomach, and then down to your hip bones, scraping his teeth lightly against the skin, which had you shuddering. He trailed lower, to where your thighs met your core, and began to suck lightly and the soft skin there. Your clit was throbbing by now, desperate for any sort of attention. You thrust your hips up, desperate for his mouth on the place you needed him, but he only pulled your legs over his shoulders and brought his arms across your stomach to hold you in place. Your hands went to his hair in an effort to control any aspect of this situation, but the boy was strong. He teased and teased and teased, until you thought you might very well crawl out of your own skin if he didn’t properly touch you soon. Embry brought his face right up to your center and licked into your entrance, making your toes curl once more. His hands gripped your hips as he brought you as far onto his tongue as he could, nose not quite brushing where you still needed him.

“Embry…” you whimpered, about to tell him what you needed.

“I know, baby. I got you,” he spoke, as he finally brought his warm tongue to lick a firm stripe up to your clit, swirling it around and sucking the swollen nub into his mouth.

You let out a moan. A real one. Your first real one. And it only encouraged Embry, as he began to suck and lick with a steady rhythm that caused your legs to shake. You felt your stomach start to coil after several minutes of this, hands fisting Embry’s hair even tighter. It felt amazing, but that coil wouldn’t snap. He started to notice you coming down slightly, orgasm fading away, when he brought his index finger into your mouth. You sucked on instinct, before he pulled it out and brought it down to your entrance. He swirled the digit around a few times and began to push in slowly. One knuckle. Then two. And then he was fully in you. Sucking your clit into his mouth yet again, he rubbed his finger up into your front wall, massaging the ridges there.

“Oh… Embry, oh my God,” you moaned. He used more pressure, and then brought his finger out and added another, slowly pushing them in together and resuming the ‘come-hither’ motion. You felt your muscles shake, losing all control, and the coil in your stomach tightened rapidly once again, only this time, it broke. Your back arched, eyes shut tight, mouth open in a silent scream as you came hard. Waves of pleasure drove through you, hands holding his head firmly onto your center. When you came down and opened your eyes, you looked down at his face to see an excited grin.

“If you tell me that was fake, I think I’ll cry,” he chirped.

You calmed your hard breathing enough to mutter a “That was real.”

“Do you wanna keep going?” he asked.

You nodded, taking note of the obvious tent in his shorts. You reached a hand down to grasp him, when he grabbed your wrist and said “Nuh-uh, I’m still making it up to you.”

He stood up off the bed and went over to a plastic shopping bag on his desk. He opened it and pulled out a condom, some lube, and a small pink toy. Your eyes widened, and he cockily stated, “told you I’d do some research. Come here Sweetheart.” He held a hand out to help you up, and moved you so that you were on your hands and knees, bum facing him as he stood at the edge of the bed. He tore the condom packet open with his teeth and rolled it on, and then opened the bottle of lube and slathered it all over himself. He then brought what was left on his hand up to your sensitive core, distributing the substance gently. Throwing the bottle onto the floor, he lined himself up with your entrance.

“You sure you wanna keep going?” he asked. You nodded in response. “I need you to say it, babe.”

“Yes, I want to keep going, Em,” you almost cried.

“Okay, but I need you to tell me if it hurts even a little. Promise?”

“Promise.”

He grasped your hip with one hand, guiding himself in with the other. Slowly, carefully, he became fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust. You felt no pain, just a delicious stretch inside your walls. When Embry saw that you were relaxed, he pulled himself out a couple of inches and softly thrusted back in, looking for any signs of discomfort. He found none, and continued. He dragged himself in and out of you at a torturous pace that made your breathing pick up yet again. You needed more. You began rocking yourself back onto him, begging for a faster pace, and he complied. He pulled out several inches more this time, shoving back in at a quicker pace that had your toes curling and your moans going up in pitch. At this, he stopped holding back. Embry began pounding into you, hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave the good kind of bruise. You were moaning loudly, brain turning to mush. This is what sex was supposed to be like. What you’d always imagined it would be like. Passionate, loving, amazing.

Embry found himself reaching the edge, but would not allow himself to finish before you. He reached down onto the bed for the small pink toy that you had forgotten about. He flicked it on, brought his other hand down and around your throat to pull you up against him, and held the small vibrator right onto your clit. The pounding pressure of his dick paired with the fervent vibrations had you seeing stars. You came. Hard. You didn’t know how long the orgasm had lasted. When you came to, you were lying on your back on the bed, breathing still labored, as Embry cleaned your thighs off with a damp towel. He noticed you looking up at him.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he cooed.

“Hey,” you responded weakly.

“How ya doing?”

“Really good,” you laughed.

“Yeah?” he beamed at you as you nodded in response. “Good. I’m gonna get you some water and then we can cuddle, okay?” You only smiled in contentment as he walked off into the hallway, returning shortly with a cup of cold water. “Sit up for me?”

“Can’t,” you answered, eliciting a laugh from him.

“C’mon, I’ll help you,” he spoke as he gently held the back of your head, supporting you as you leaned up to drink from the cup he was holding up to your mouth. After you took a few sips, he seemed satisfied and placed the cup on the floor, lying down next to you and pulling you close. “If you start ignoring me after that, I might have to kill you,” he teased.

“Don’t worry. I won’t ever ignore you again.” You sighed in contentment, listening to Embry’s soothing heartbeat, before you began to wonder. “By the way, what the heck kind of research did you do?”

He huffed a laugh before responding, “Some guy on the internet called Owen Grey.”

#twilight #wolf pack #embry call #embry call x reader #embry call smut #twilight smut #sam uley #jacob black #paul lahote #quil ateara #seth clearwater #jared cameron #leah clearwater #edward cullen #embry call x reader smut #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote smut

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ramp-it-up · 3 years

Text

The One

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warmings: 18+, Minors DNI. Curate your own experience. Cursing, drinking, running, a raging argument in an established relationship, name calling, taunting, drunken raging, Twitter. SMUT, explicit, rough sex, fingering, tit slapping, orgasm denial, spitting, oral sex (mostly female receiving). Also, I’m sleepy. 😴

A/N: Not proofread. Also, I know very little about Chris and Jenny, and have no real opinion about their relationship. I made up the scenario about what happened there for the purposes of the story. THANKS FOR 400 FOLLOWERS TONIGHT! 🥳🎉🎊🍾👏🏽🎈

This fic is based on the following ask:

Anonymous asked:

Imagine idea :

Chris is drunk after a fight with the reader. He was On Twitter and saw some pics with Jenny and when the reader comes in he screams at her and says that Jenny was the one and not the reader. The reader get sad because she was always kind of insecure about the age gap with Chris. The day after he didn’t know what he says and she don’t say anything because she got the feeling that he was right. But one thing both didn’t noticed that Chris was drunk calling Scott and he knows everything Chris says and drive to Chris to give him a good clamp ahahhaha Chris was drunk and Just mentioned her name because he saw a post with Jenny.

------------------

It had been the perfect day.

You slept in, then had a late brunch at home.

You saw a message from Chris’ former co-star, Heidi, light up his phone that he’d plugged in on the kitchen counter when you two were tidying up.

You wondered why he was texting the bitch even after you told him that she wanted him. And after he agreed to cut off contact out of respect for you.

Heated, you didn’t even look around before you picked it up, put in his code and read a string of friendly, if not borderline flirty, texts.

Chris walked in the kitchen, caught you, and yelled at you for being in his phone.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Exactly! What is going on, Chris. I thought we talked about this?”

Chris rolled his eyes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, it’s a big fucking deal.”

You threw his phone on the marble countertop, which caused Chris to pick it up to see if it was cracked. Your temper was too much.

“We’re just friends! She knows we’re together, y/n!”

You rolled your eyes.

“And I know women, Chris. That doesn’t fucking matter to her. Sometimes you’re so oblivious. Or act like you are.” You huffed and rolled your eyes.

“I know you want to leave me for someone more glamorous and beautiful. Someone who will put up with your shit, everyone the media says you’re fucking. Go ahead and just do it!”

Chris’s temper was really rising now. You could tell as the red creeped up his chest to his neck.

“Stop fucking saying that!” Chris was screaming now. “Is that what you want? To end it? Because you don’t have to make me do it. If you want to leave, just leave.”

You said shit like that a lot. And it scared and angered him. He wanted to know if you were trying to make him break up with you so you would be free.

“Why are you being such a fucking…” Chris stopped himself. He knew better than to call you out of your name.

Your head almost spun around. You smiled evilly.

“Go ahead, say what you wanna say, Chris. Or are you scared?”

Chris exploded. “A fucking BITCH.” He was shaking because you went there.

“How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not fucking anyone else!”

Chris lost it and punched the wall, making a hole in the drywall and definitely injuring his hand.

You just stood there with your mouth open and in silence. You went toward him to look at his hand, and he just put both of them up, backing away from you and going to the liquor cabinet.

He retreated to the deck with a bottle of Jameson’s. He wanted to dull the pain, in his hand, and in his heart. He hated when you hurt each other.

You understood that you both crossed the line, so you let him be. You went upstairs to change into your running clothes to get out and clear your head.

Chris settled on a deck lounger, started drinking from the bottle and got online, which is never a good thing, but he needed something to distract him. He started reading tweets about himself, and following a thread of Chris + Jenny stans.

The more he drank, the more he started reminiscing.

There were good times. He was happy. Mostly. He thought she was the one. Sometimes. But she broke his heart. He was just a rebound.

Her handsome arm candy.

Then he thought of you. His heart melted; you really loved him. He was sure of it. But loving him was hard. He realized that you felt the same way about him that he felt about Jenny. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Insecure.

And you had good reason to be. Everything you’d said about women coming after him was true. But what you didn’t realize is that since he’d met you other women didn’t matter to him.

You were the one, not Jenny.

Chris began to get melancholy. He’d fucked up. You were nothing but good to him and you just asked him to respect you and listen to your feelings. He’d ignored that.

Shit, why did he yell at you like that?

He went to erase Heidi’s contact and block her number. He was confident that you were never going to throw him away like Jenny did. She was the one who’d hurt him. Not you. Never you. He recognized that you wouldn’t ever hurt him on purpose.

His mind was racing with how to apologize when you came back. He was an idiot. The pain in his heart was replaced with regret and his hand had slowed to a dull throb.

But then 30 minutes turned to 3 hours, and by the time you got back, the bottle was empty and Chris’s eyes were red with rage and worry.

Maybe you were just like Jenny after all.

--------

You ran, and then went to get some coffee. You ran into Shelby at the cafe and distracted yourself with mindless chatter, then walked back. You were ready to apologize by the time you opened the door.

When he heard the door, Chris picked up his phone and met you in the living room. He was obviously shitfaced.

“WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!?”

Chris’s voice boomed throughout the house and you jumped. Then you just stood there, shocked at his outburst.

“The hell are you talking to me like that?”

He was unsteady on his feet. He leaned toward you, and you could tell that someone was spinning the room for him.

“I don’t want it to be you!”

He had to let you know that he knew that you wouldn’t be the one to hurt him. Chris pointed his phone at you.

“You’re not the one. Jenny’s the only one. Not you! Not ever you!”

You couldn’t believe your ears. But then again you could. It was what you were afraid of. You were head over heels. And Chris could find someone on his level. Like Jenny.

“Well, Fuck You very much, Chris.”

You brushed your tears away and ran past him up the stairs to the bedroom, locking the door and crying your eyes out. You got out your suitcase.

----

Chris started up after you, calling your name, and then suddenly needed to duck in the downstairs bathroom to throw up.

He tried to make it up the stairs and had to sit down on the floor near the bottom. Then, he needed to lay down just for a minute.

The next thing Chris knew, it was morning, and he woke up to a pounding on the door and in his head. He rolled over on the floor, and something stabbed him in the side.

Groaning, he reached down and saw your keys to his house, his cars, and his life, all on the Tiffany heart keychain he’d given them to you. He was staring at them, confused, when Scott opened the door with his key.

“There he is. My brother. The fuck up.”

Chris groaned again, sat up on the bottom stair and held his head.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nevermind me. It’s not often I get to say that, only when you publish your dick pic to the internet or you RUN OFF THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO YOU!”

Chris winced when Scott yelled, his head a pounding mass of meat wrapped in fuzzy cotton.

He didn’t understand why he was being tortured and he didn’t understand why his hand hurt. He looked at it, all bruised up, and the keys inside it.

“Just tell me, Scott. Why are you here?”

Scott leaned up against the door.

“Did you know you drunk dialed me last night?”

Chris looked up at Scott, and his face was a sight as his brother told him what he’d said to you.

“Fuuuuuck me!” He put his head in his hands again.

“I don’t know if she ever will again,” Scott joked, but Chris didn’t laugh.

“I called her after you apparently passed out and wouldn't pick up your phone. She was ready to catch an early morning flight, but I convinced her to sleep in today and leave tomorrow.”

Chris moved his hands down from his eyes and stared out the patio doors, trying to think.

“I put her up in the Four Seasons, on your dime of course. Room 6145. Penthouse. Could be pretty romantic. If she were in that kind of mood.”

Chris looked up at Scott, smiled weakly, jumped up and hugged him, then made for the door. Scott jumped in front of him.

“Trust me, you’ll want to get some water and coffee in you, and shower and brush your teeth. You look and smell like shit.”

“Right.” Chris nodded, flexing his hand. He could still move it. He was glad it wasn’t broken. “Thanks, bro.”

“No problem.” Scott walked into the bathroom as Chris went to the kitchen, groaning when he saw the hole in the wall. He’d have to ask Scott to get it fixed before you saw it again.

If he could convince you to come back.

----

It was 11 am, and Scott had verified that you were still in the room. Chris just stood there, nervous and terrified that you were just going to be done with him.

Room service came and headed toward your door. Chris waved them down and when they saw his face, they stopped in their tracks, shocked.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

----

You climbed out of the wonderful deep jetted tub, having soaked until the water got cold and your fingers were wrinkled. You pulled on the plush Four Seasons terry cloth robe that was provided with the suite.

You felt calmer than last night, and after some sleep and relaxation, you realized that you’d been a fool to think that Chris would want you forever like you thought.

It was for the best that you leave and start over, to focus on your consulting business and yourself for a while.

You opened the door with a smile on your face for the attendant, and you let them into the room, your back turned to the door while they brought the cart in. You turned back around and there was Chris.

You grew heated, and your heart began to race while the attendant scurried out. Chris’s face was a welcome sight, but you were still angry.

There you were, looking so beautiful, curls tied up in your favorite silk scarf, cocoa skin radiant in a white fluffy robe. You should have been comfortable, but your eyes were wide and scared.

He’d done this to you.

“Fuck, y/n… I…”

You interrupted him.

“You’ve got some mutha fuckin nerve. How dare you just run up in here, using that fucking face,” you flung your hand up, “using who you are to get into my room. How did you even know where…?”

Your mouth dropped open at the realization of what Scott had done. You turned on your heel to get your things. You didn’t care that you were naked under your robe. You didn’t care that you still loved Chris. You were out. This second.

Chris moved to block you from entering the bedroom of the suite. You tried to push past him, all 5’ 4” of you versus 6 feet of him.

“Move, Chris!”

You glared up at him, your body responding to him in ways you weren’t prepared to admit. You were betrayed by your pussy.

“I just want you to listen to me. Then you can leave, stay, do whatever you want. Just hear me out.”

You and him physically was always the shit. His arms across his chest did things to you But you kept mean mugging him, making him hard for you.

You stepped back and said, “Okay. You have 10 minutes. Then I’m out, Chris.”

You paced back to the couch in the living room of the suite, watching him warily.

Chris paced in front of you, making it inevitable that you follow his lean form back and forth across the carpet. You noticed that his hand was bandaged and that he kept flexing it.

You hoped it wasn’t broken. No matter what, you cared what happened to him. You would always love him. Even if it was the end of your relationship.

“First of all, I’m sorry. My anger got the best of me, and I was violent and that is never acceptable. Even though I didn’t touch you, it’s not ok, and I know it was intimidating. I take responsibility.”

He stopped and looked at you, you melted a little, but you didn’t give any outward sign. Being a business owner taught you a mean poker face.

But the shirt he was wearing made his true blue eyes pop and you could see a hint of his chain around his neck under the fitted henley.

You suppressed a shiver at the memory of the things you did to have that chain and medallion wave in your face, to have it clenched between your teeth as Chris had his way with you, and you with him.

You focused on him, pointedly looking at your watch. Chris’ anxiety peaked when he saw that.

He stepped toward you and thought that he recognized the look in your eyes. He was almost sure that you still wanted him, sure that you still cared. He could only hope as he came closer.

“And then I started drinking. And while you were gone, I came across some posts about me and Jenny. And it took me back there.”

At those words, you crossed your arms and averted your eyes, defenses up. You didn’t want to hear about how much he loved Jenny.

Then, Chris swiftly moved to sit on his haunches, becoming eye level with you.

“And I realized that she never really loved me. Not like you loved me.”

Chris speaking about your love in the past tense made you a little angry and you stared him in the eyes.

It was just the reaction he hoped for. Your attitude. He loved it. He hid a smirk so that he could continue, but you saw the glimmer in his eyes. And you rolled yours.

Chris then picked up the sash to your robe and started playing with it, your eyes drawn to his thick fingers. You didn’t know why that was getting you hot, but it was. You opened your mouth to breathe.

Chris’s voice cracked when he said. “And to me she was the mountaintop. Another, different kind of conquest. But I realized that I never really loved her. Not like I love you.”

Present tense.

Now you were looking into his eyes, about to fall into them. Shit. He had you hooked. But then you remembered, and drew back.

“Yeah, I know what I said, but what I was trying to express was that I know it could never be you to hurt me like Jenny did. That I didn’t want you to hurt me like she did. Not when I’ve thought about forever…”

He moved even closer. “I mean forever, forever, with you.”

All of a sudden you couldn’t breathe. Chris got on his knees.

“I want to be in this position again with you one day. One day soon. But not like this. I don’t want it to be to try to get you back. I want us to be good.”

He sighed, pensive. “I want you to be smiling and happy, and even have our families there.”

You don’t know how your face looked at that moment, but Chris started smiling at you. You were so beautiful to him right now.

“I was drunk, and I couldn’t use my words correctly. I yelled and I screamed and I punched the wall. I fucked up and may have lost you forever, but I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You felt yourself get emotional, but you tried to calm down.

“I’m just so fucking scared that you will get tired of all the bullshit that comes with me and leave… and I absolutely wouldn’t blame you. But there’s no one else, y/n. No one else can compare…”

“Chris…”

You raised your hand to his face, eyes searching his. You could tell he was being honest.

Chris grabbed your hand and started kissing your palm.

“So.” He looked at you with those eyes. “Is this goodbye?…” His lips were giving you shivers. “Or hello again? Can we start over?”

Chris trailed his lips from your palm, to the pulse point at your wrists and lingered there, licking the delicate skin. Then he moved up your arm to the opening in the robe.

He pushed his torso in between your legs and leaned into your neck, inhaling the lavender bath oil that was your favorite. And his, too.

He moaned as you leaned your head to the side, giving him access. But he didn't just want the physical. He breathed into the shell of your ear.

“Please come home, baby…”

You just moaned as he started sucking right below your ear, your spot. Desire took over for Chris when he heard your sounds.

“Fuck it. I can tell that you still want me. If this is goodbye, then I’m going to make it worth your time.”

Your back arched and Chris palmed your bounteous ass over the robe, pulling you flush to his crotch. He smiled as he felt the warmth coming from you.

“You’re so fucking warm, babe. Are you wet, too? Are you wet for me? Do you want my cock? I mean, do you want your thick, fat, cock to fuck you babe?”

Chris was kissing down your neck into the cleavage that the robe was revealing with each sentence as you opened your legs. Your pussy was quivering for him, but you still didn’t answer him.

Chris looked up at you with those eyes and pulled on the robe sash. It fell open and he looked down and bit his lip, taking in your warm skin, lovely breasts, and elegant pussy, with the manicured triangle of hair kept like he preferred, and offered up for his taking.

You still looked like his girl, and he smiled as he looked up into your eyes. But he had to be certain. He lowered his head, keeping eye contact and descended toward one small hard mountain peak, kissing it gently, tentatively, while watching you.

You were mesmerized as his tongue peeked out and licked it, then he opened his lips and enveloped it, moistening it with his pink lips.

The look on your face compelled him, and he fully enveloped your nipple and started sucking roughly, still keeping eye contact. You were determined not to close your eyes, but it was difficult. You bit your lip to stay still.

Chris’s bandaged hand was dangerous, however, and it came up to pinch and roll your other nipple. You arched into his hand as he became rougher and rougher.

He switched nipples and hands and his saliva made your breast that much more pliable and sensitive. He slapped it, and then rubbed it with the rough bandage, making you cry out and moan as his other hand trailed down your body to your cunt.

“This pussy will still be mine, even if you leave me.” He smiled cockily while looking down on it.

He looked at you, before lifting his hand to his mouth, looking straight into your eyes and spitting on his fingers before bringing them down to your cunt.

“I think, that if even if you leave and move back to Houston, and I come to town, that if I I call you, even if you’re with someone else, you would meet me in a parking lot and let me fuck you over the hood of my rental car.”

He was faintly tracing your pussy lips and instantly your control was gone. You were sopping wet, because of his words and because of the knowledge that what he was saying was the truth.

“Oh,” was all you could say. You were adding to the wetness of the saliva on his fingers.

Chris smiled and tilted his head as his two thick digits breached your opening. He had his answer as you threw your head back and let him finger fuck you while he rolled and slapped and pinched your nipple.

His thumb was lightly brushing your clit and you wanted so much more. Chris could sense that and he pressed down roughly on it, causing an electric jolt up your body, which you keened for, arching your body into his hand.

Chris moved his hand from your breast to your neck and applied the pressure that you wanted and needed and that he was expert at while he stuffed another finger inside you and circled your clit with his thumb.

You floated among the clouds as you came like fireworks, and all over his hand.

He watched you come undone, and come down, rubbing his hard cock through his pants with one hand while he sucked your juices off his fingers, releasing each with a loud pop. When you opened your eyes, you smiled.

You pulled his hand and started licking yourself off him, flattening your tongue against his palm.

“I forgive you Chris. I forgave you when you conned your way into my room, you ass.”

You smiled against his hand as he groaned, relieved and desperate for you.

“But you still have some work to do.”

“What do you want? Anything.”

Now Chris was breathless, anticipating payback.

“First, you need to take those damn clothes off.”

He quickly moved to take off his shirt, and then stood up to take off his pants. You smirked as hs cock sprang up immediately when he peeled them down. He wasn’t wearing underwear.

Chris caught your look.

“What? I wanted to be prepared.” He chuckled softly while pumping his cock lightly, expecting to immediately fuck you.

He moved toward you. But you quickly moved off the couch and into the bedroom, forcing him to follow you, and his dick, into the other room.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he remained standing.

“What do you need, babe?”

You reached for his cock and tugged it toward you, opening your mouth and deep throating it, wetting it from root to tip and then spit on it. Chris moaned as you started to stroke. Then you stopped.

“I need you to jack off for me.”

“Ugh! You’re so fucking nasty. I love you.”

Chris instantly started where you left off. This didn’t seem like work.

You leaned back on your elbows, watching him, and licking your lips.

“And I need for you not to stop, and not to come. Until I tell you.”

You looked him in the eye and that was when Chris knew he was doomed. A chill ran down his spine as you reached down and started playing with your pussy.

“Fuck!”

You looked so damn good. He licked his lips and stroked harder and faster, his balls drawing up already.

“Shit, y/n.”

You watched his eyes, and got wetter at his blown pupils and glazed look.

“You like that?”

“Fuck yeah.”

His voice was broken and desperate. He fisted his cock, and held his balls, trying to stave off the inevitable.

You turned around, got on your knees and reached back between your legs and ran your fingers up and down your slit.

“How about that?”

“Goddamnit!”

Chris grunted as he tried to hold it in. You were a goddess. He licked his lips. Wanting to taste you. So he did.

He dove in, tongue competing with your fingers to command your slit. You finally gave in to his expert mouth and he savored your salty goodness.

“Fuck, Chris, you better still be…”

“I am. Christ.”

He was leaking in his hand, but he had it under control. Barely.

Chris stopped eating you out for a second, grabbed your ass cheek with one hand, stretched you open, spit on your tighter hole, and watched it slide down your satin lips to drip onto the bed.

His warm saliva made your pussy quiver and he watched it lovingly. Then he dove in again.

He sped up his movements with his other hand and you could hear the smooth skin of his dick sliding on his palm while his tongue did forbidden things to you.

“Ffffffuuckkkkkkk! Chrisssss.”

You came, burying your scream in the mattress, and even harder than before. You couldn’t believe that he’d turned the tables on you.

Chris ate you out through your orgasm, holding you down with one hand like it was nothing.

He was god of war, love, and sex, all at once.

Fuck Captain America.

You came again, almost immediately.

When he was done with his meal, he let you go, wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand and stepped back.

“Fuck, what do you want me to do? I can’t take it much longer…” Chris’s sexy growling voice got to you.

“What do you wanna do, Chris? How do you want to take me, Daddy?” Chris’s cock jumped in his hand, he slapped your ass, and watched it jiggle.

Chris entered your wet, wet pussy, and marvel how if felt like it was choking the life out of him. He had to stop moving, or he would burst almost immediately.

“How the fuck are you so wet, but so tight. It’s like a fucking vice grip, geeze.”

You both waited and felt it jump inside you, then Chris reached down, grabbed you by the neck and pulled you upright and flush to his chest.

One hand clutched your throat and the other arm hooked under your leg, allowing him to piston up into you upright while your other leg dangled, your big toe barely touching the ground.

Chris held you and fucked up into you, grunting each time the large mushroom cap head of his cock was stuffed into your pussy.

“Ugh, gatdamn it, you were thinking of leaving, ugh, you wanted to leave this, mmmmmm, this dick that, ugh, that fucks you like this?”

Chris’s mouth was near your ear, which was on his shoulder because your head had fallen back on his chest. He was using you like a sex toy as he fucked you senseless.

His dick slicked in and out of you with obscene wetness, Chris somehow lifting you up and slipping completely out of you and pounding back into you with force.

“Chris!!!”

You started shaking, your center of gravity being where you and he were connected.

He fucked you even harder and faster, chasing his release, but he maneuvered his hand to find your clit, refusing to come before you.

“Fuck! You know you were going to miss this cock that your sweet cunt fits… like… a …mutha …fuckin… glove!”

"Ahhhh!"

You screamed as you fluttered around his cock. He could take only so much before he had to shut his eyes and bite down on your collarbone. Chris’s legs were trembling now.

"Take all of it!." He was hitting your spot. "How does it feel?"

Although the feeling was intense, you tried to speak.

"L-l-l-like h-heav-v-v-ennnnn."

The sound of your voice made his release start to build.

With each of his thrusts, the sweet tightness began to build until you came, screaming and moaning in pleasure.

“Oh shiiiiitttttt!” Chris exploded inside your tight wet cunt. He wanted to fill you up like never before. He wanted to put his baby in you and tie you forever to him. That made his balls empty.

He fell back on the bed, with you on top of him, slipping out of you and depositing you on the bed beside him.

Chris couldn't help but smile as you both came down. He was made for this.

Chris put his hand on your cheek, brushing your beautiful lips with his thumb. You smiled under his attention into his sea blue eyes.

“I love you.” You grinned.

“God, I love you.” You sobered up, taking in the weight of his words.

“Is it weird that I want to get you pregnant before we’re married?”

You made a face.

“Who says I want to marry you?”

Chris scooped you in his arms and rolled you over on top of him.

“You don’t want to marry me? You’d say no if I asked?”

You held in a giggle.

“Nah. I’m gonna move back to Houston and marry someone else so you can come in town and fuck me over the hood of your rental car. That sounds hot as fuck.”

Chris released an anxious breath.

You took his head in your hands.

“Easy now. Ask what you want to ask.” Chris started to speak. You put your finger over his mouth.

“When you want to ask it.” You looked into his eyes again. “I won’t break your heart.”

Chris smiled at you and said, “I know.” He kissed you.

And when you pulled away, breathless, he told you, “You’re the One.”

----------- Read Part Two: It Takes Two

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edie-baby · 3 years

Note

Can we please have a smut with Lando where he’s never been that dominant before and decides to try it one evening

whiskey soaked cherries | lando norris smut

summary: Lando Norris decides one day that he'd like to try dominating his partner, and well, he's actually pretty good at it.

word count: 4541

warnings: swearing, smut; face sitting, choking, bound wrists, daddy + sir kink, hint of a breeding kink, aftercare

notes: i'm sorry this took so long, i kind of got carried away

There were always a few indicators when Lando Norris was thinking. It was a common occurrence, the man was an over-thinker till the end, yet it meant he never did anything without being sure. There were levels to his thinking moods however, and they usually gave away the true depth of his immersion in his brain.

Level one: glazed eyes, and slow reaction times. Often when you spoke to him during this time, it would take multiple seconds for him to even acknowledge that you had said something, the journey from his head to in front of you could take a while, but he was usually pretty easy to distract.

Level two: sitting completely still and not blinking. The first few times you saw him lost in thought like this, you were unnerved. He could stare at a spot on the floor for five minutes, unblinking, the only indicator of life being the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythmic breaths falling from his lips were reassuring in this state. You had noticed once that he was so lost in thought he didn’t breathe for multiple moments. Your head was against his chest, the subtle movements you had felt for many hours before that ceased, and after a few too many seconds, he gulped down a gasping breath. This level was usually reserved for racing thoughts, strategies and tracks all consuming within his chaotic brain.

Level three: mindlessly walking, parted lips, slow, laboured breaths. You had seen Lando like this only once, walking around his house for nearly an hour, never reacting to your voice, never stopping for longer than it took for him to pivot and turn back around at a dead-end hallway. The day after you saw him like this, he had asked you to move in with him.

Level four: laid still on the floor, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, lights on. You had only heard of this Thinking Lando, Jon and Charlotte having caught him laid in offices or empty rooms on the floor, looking like a perfectly posed corpse. You questioned him about it, and he had never had a true answer for you, something about the rigidity of the floor was grounding whilst his closed eyes let him wander as far as he wished.

But level five, you weren’t entirely sure existed. So, when you arrived home after work one day to a completely dark house, curtains and blinds drawn with every source of light turned off or obscured, you were rightfully shit scared.

“Lando? Honey, I’m home!” You called, your voice wavering slightly as it bounced off the walls of the entryway, travelling through the house in eerie echoes.

“In the living room.” Lando replied, his voice oddly composed, and you began traversing though the house, avoiding walls and furniture from memory. You were tempted to use the flashlight on your phone to get an idea of what was going on, but figured you trusted your boyfriend enough.

“Hey baby, what’s with the lights?” Your voice was laced with confusion, eyes trying to find the silhouette of the man speaking from somewhere within the room, but you were completely lost.

“I’ve been thinking.” He simply replied, goosebumps erupting on your skin as his hot breath fanned on the back of your neck. You thought his voice had travelled from the other side of the living room, but there was right behind you. You tried leaning back, desperate for some contact in the makeshift sensory deprivation room you had found yourself in, but he was gone. You jumped when you felt his hand brush against your calf, his other hand tracing up the outside of your leg to your thigh. You sighed in relief, the barest of touches from him always made you feel alight with pleasure.

“You don’t usually think like this. What’s on your mind?” You asked, voice breathy as you felt the constantly moving palms on your legs, the skirt you had worn that day a barrier between where you really wanted him, and the rough calloused hands that left goosebumps in their wake. He didn’t dare move the hem of your skirt, choosing to roam over it with lazy strokes.

“I want to try something with you. But, I need your full consent, and we need ground rules.” Lando replied, the languid strokes turning to loving touches, the brief brush of his fingertips against a scar on your knee, the same fingers caressing a path down your calf to remove your shoes.

“You know I’d trust you to do anything. Anything you want to do, I consent to 100%.” Your voice was sure, strong and assured. You felt Lando’s fingers still for a bare moment, a long intake of air telling you Lando was revelling in the romantics of your words. He often did that when you spoke about your admiration for him, honey-sweet words warming his heart like nothing else.

“No, I need you to listen to this. I want your explicit consent.” Lando continued, his words firmer, causing anxiety to swirl in your stomach for a brief moment before you realised exactly who he was. It was Lando, your chaotic boyfriend who screamed instead of laughing. A man you had been hopelessly in love with for nearly three years, who treated you like a goddess, who worshipped you for your flaws as much as your perfections.

“Okay. So tell me.” You stated. There was no question, no anxiety, no confusion in your words. Because you knew this man like the back of your hand, and you knew he knew you just as well, if not better. His fingers, which had still been brushing against your skin like a whisper suddenly gripped into the skin of your thighs, a comforting presence as he prepared to let the words tumble from his lips.

“I want to be in charge. I want to have complete control over you. For you to submit to me. Be one hundred percent mine to do whatever I want to do. I want to tie you up, have you completely at my mercy. I want to pull orgasm after orgasm from you until you’re begging me to stop, that you can’t take it anymore. And then I’m going to give you one more, because I can, and because I get to decide what happens to you. I want to drive my cock into your pussy until tears of pleasure stain those gorgeous cheeks of yours. I want to spank you until you can no longer sit down. I want to wrap my hand around that little throat of yours until you see the stars I see in your eyes every day. I want to cover your body in marks, fingerprints, hickeys, bites, whatever I can to make sure everyone knows who the fuck you belong to. And after all that, I want to cum inside this pussy, because it’s mine and no one else’s.” Lando growled, his grip on your thighs wavering as he detailed his fantasy, one that you were all too happy to bring to life.

“Yes. I consent. To all of it. I’m yours Lando, and I trust you with every fibre of my being.” You spoke clearly, wanting him to hear just how willing you were to help him fulfill the dreams he had obviously been thinking of all day.

At your reassuring words, Lando surged forward, his eyes obviously more adjusted to the dark room than yours as he found your lips with ease, finally indulging you in your own desires of finally having his lips against yours after a day spent apart. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, an involuntary gasp leaving your mouth and allowing Lando’s tongue to move slowly against yours. His hands, still with a grip on your thighs, slid them apart, which allowed him to shuffle further forward on his knees.

His lips travelled to your neck, nipping, licking and sucking on the flesh that he knew would make you whimper. Your hands, previously resting on his muscled forearms, reached for the lamp next to you, your eyes desperate to see the hungry look you knew was plastered on his face. The warm light flickered on, bathing his tanned skin in rays of honey-gold that only served to make him look more like a God among men than he already seemed to you.

“Get up. Go to the bedroom. When I get there, I want you naked and spread on the bed for me. You’re at my mercy tonight, darling, so you best not disobey or there’ll be hell to pay.” Lando growled, the intrusion of the light having snapped the remaining thread that held the usually sweet, albeit passionate and hungry, man that you had been sleeping with for so long.

Your breath caught in your throat, the dominance Lando was showing shot heat and pleasure to your core in a way you had never experienced. You stood quickly, beginning a fast walk toward your shared bedroom. Charged nerves surged through your body when you heard Lando’s steps trailing behind you, your hands moving in a frenzy to rid the clothes covering the body Lando was about to devour. When you finally got into your room, you only had a black lace thong remaining, so you threw it across the room and dove onto the bed just in time for the shirtless Brit to appear in the doorway with an impressed look on his features.

“I’m surprised, and almost disappointed. I was sure I’d get to punish you tonight, but I guess I’ll have to leave that for another day. Look at you though, all laid out and ready for me like the needy little whore you are. I bet you can’t fucking wait to be wrapped around my cock, to be filled up with my cum and feel it drip down your thighs.” Lando’s words had you keening, your body almost curling in on itself as he spoke all the words, pressed all the buttons that you didn’t know you had. You already felt like you were dripping onto the sheets beneath your body, and from the way Lando’s eyes were transfixed on your pussy, you were sure he could confirm your hypothesis.

He started towards you, kicking himself off the door frame with a smirk that would make you jump his bones at any given moment. His gaze was predatory, planning all the different ways he could tear you apart and put you back together before you would be sobbing with pleasure, overstimulated to the point of pleasing pain. Lando stopped as his shins met the side of the bed, staring down at you like prey. You whimpered, this new dominant side of your boyfriend was ruining you, and you wished for it to never end.

“Please, Lando, touch me.” You whimpered, skin alight with anticipation and wanton lust, your hairs standing on end, waiting for the prickling feeling to dissipate with the touch of his skin against yours.

“Please Daddy. And I’ll decide when you get touched.” Lando growled, the title more of a command than a suggestion, and that alone had your body curling.

“I’m sorry Daddy.” The name tasted like whiskey soaked cherries on your tongue; all sweet and spicy, innocent and sensual, an invitation and an offering. A spark behind Lando’s eyes let you know exactly how much he liked the keening way you spoke, and in barely a moment, his body was covering yours.

Your legs already opened wide for him, allowing his hips to slot in right between your thighs, your wet core lining up with his denim covered cock, already straining against the material purely from words spoken and the way the light from the lamp in the corner made your pussy glisten with its juices. His hands beside your head caged you in, holding the weight of his torso and unbridled dominance from crushing you.

Your breath came out shaky, bottom lip quivering in anticipation of feeling his lips on yours, every muscle in your body working to keep you from launching upwards and taking exactly what you wanted. Lando granted those wishes, diving down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, the frustration he usually held back while fucking you finally manifesting itself as hot, fiery passion. He needed this release, and you were the perfect vessel to release into. Every nip of his teeth, stroke of his tongue and bare touch of his fingers against your naked skin, it was too much and not enough.

“I need you to tell me if you need me to stop, we need a safeword. Use it if I go too far, or if I hurt you, or if you just need a second. Because I don’t want to lose myself in you and not realise I’m doing something wrong.” Lando spoke, breathless from the head spinning kiss, and you almost cooed, there was really nothing Lando could do to you that would hurt you, and it was sweet that he still didn’t understand that fact, but you followed along for his peace of mind.

“Orange.” You replied, almost instantly. The colour was so deeply ingrained in your relationship that you felt it both fitting and comforting, and Lando agreed as he nodded along, repeating the word in his mind and tying alarm bells and stop signs to it.

“Good. Now sit on my face.”

“I’m sorry what?” You squeaked, the request having given you whiplash, and as you stared into Lando’s eyes, no hin of remorse or asking, you realised the man was dead fucking serious.

“Did I stutter?” Lando asked again, his eyes glaring at your face as you continued to try and process the last seventeen seconds, but when your body was flipped from lying comfortably against your mattress to straddling a muscled chest, you realised you’d have to be a lot quicker to keep up with Lando tonight.

“If I have to ask you one more time, you won’t like what happens.” Lando growled, the deep tones of his domineering voice filling the room and hanging heavily in the air. You looked down to his face, his chin barely five centimetres from your pussy, and decided it was now or fucking never. So you shuffled awkwardly up the bed, apparently too slow for Lando, because he hooked his arms around your thighs and dragged your body to exactly where he wanted it. Your dripping core suspended above him, his nose brushing your clit each time your thighs spasmed in your pleasure.

“Is this okay Daddy?” You whispered, your hands gripping the headboard in front of you like a lifeline. Lando’s entire body spasmed, his arms tensing around your thighs and pulling your wet cunt to his face just as a guttural moan tore from the depths of his chest, his arms shaking with the force of containing whatever beast had just been awoken inside of him.

Lando ate you out with a ferocity you had never expected a man to possess, his tongue lapped, tasted, prodded and fucked through your folds like a man starved. His nose brushed your clit every so often, jolting your hips and causing you to ride his face until a swift slap warmed your ass cheeks.

“Sorry Daddy.” You mumbled, embarrassment warming your cheeks as the pleasure built up much faster and harder than ever before. Lando slid one of his calloused digits into your cunt, his mouth moving to focus on your clit, sucking and licking at the bundle of nerves while you clenched around his fingers with a passion.

“You better not cum until I say you can.” Lando’s voice was muffled, but you understood exactly what he meant. Your whimper that followed made Lando chuckle, and you moaned as the vibrations and exhaled breath hit your core and made your entire body convulse, the pleasure was blinding, but your brain was fixated on not cumming until Lando allowed you to.

Your body was so hot with pleasure, your vision coated white to the point you didn’t know if your eyes were open or closed, and your perception of time had vanished long ago. Lando could have been eating you out for five minutes or five hours, you had no clue anymore, all you knew was that it felt so good, and it was Lando making you feel this way.

“You’re doing so good baby, fuck. If you keep making those sounds I might cum before you even touch me.” Lando’s voice brought you back to reality, as you had been so lost you didn’t realise you had been moaning, the sounds of pleasure verging on screams as you passed ‘about to cum’ and entered ‘about to pass out’.

“You make me feel so good Daddy. So fucking good, shit.” Your reply was garbled, moans and whimpers cutting off words. Lando hummed, his lips latching onto your clit and sucking exceptionally hard as his fingers curled just the right way, and you knew you were a goner.

“Cum now baby girl.” Lando mumbled, syllables lost to the flesh of your pussy, but you got the message. The relief that coated your body was like cold water on a hot summer day, drenching your screaming senses in a blanket of calm, your vision returning in flashes of colour, your ears ringing with high pitched screams, ones which you realised after a moment were your own sounds of pleasure. Lando continued his ministrations as you came down, prolonging your pleasure while you regained consciousness and became fully aware of what was happening around you.

Lando stopped, his eyes opening to see you already staring down at him in awe, and he helped you move from your position over his head to laying beside him on the bed, your skin already shining with a thin coat of sweat.

You looked over at your boyfriend, disbelief in your eyes as you stared at the wetness covering the bottom half of his face, and some of his neck. He looked smug as ever, a sliver of your young boyfriend shining through the dominant facade he had on tonight, but as soon as you started picking out the familiar pieces, his eyes turned cold again, the smirk being replaced with a tensed jaw. Your heart stopped for a moment, the one-eighty made your pussy flutter around nothing, and suddenly you were painfully aware of just how empty you felt.

“Can I touch you?” You asked, eyes wide and innocent, your bottom lip pouting as you looked up at Lando, hoping to run your hands across his chest, feeling the muscles ripple beneath the taut skin, to drag your nails across his thighs, dig your fingers into his skin as he fucks you.

“Do you want to try asking that again?” Lando replied, his tone almost patronising as he looked at you, practically vibrating with desperation to touch him. It filled him with unbelievable pride, to have you so wanting just to feel him, it stroked his ego more than winning any Grand Prix ever could.

“I’m sorry sir. Can I please touch you? I want to make you feel good too.” You whimpered, the new title falling from your lips naturally, and though he hadn’t answered you, or granted you permission to touch him, he pounced.

His lips collided with yours, sharing the taste of you in the kiss and you moaned at the sensation, your nails reaching up to claw at Lando’s back. His hands where everywhere, grabbing your tits with rough hands, flicking your nipples with calloused skin, gripping your hips with intent to bruise, desperate to leave the evidence of his claim on you. His lips traced the familiar path to your jaw, up to your ear where he sunk his teeth into the lobe, letting his lips brush the shell of your ear as he whispered sweet nothings to you.

Except the sweet nothings tonight were anything but.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum. Watch it drip out of you and then fuck it back into you with my fingers. Gonna make you a mummy, huh? Have you walking around the paddock with my baby in you. That way everyone knows you’re mine and that I was the one that fucked you so good.” The filthy words being fed right into your ear, along with the strong grip on your hips and the rolling of Lando’s hips pressing his bulge into your core was going to make you go feral.

“Fuck me, sir. Put your baby in me please. Wanna be a mummy for you.” You purred, the words rolling off your tongue in waves that sent shivers down Lando’s spine. He leant back, sat back on his haunches as he took in the sight of your body, still trembling slightly from the powerful orgasm. He slowly undid his belt, your eyes trained on the movements his hands made, biting your lip as you got one step closer to seeing his cock, a sight you could and would never tire of. With his belt gripped tightly in his hands, Lando made a decision he would never regret.

He scooped your hands up in one of his, the other holding the belt, and positioned your hands above your head, fingers brushing against the headboard. He looped the belt through the wrought iron, fastening the leather around your hands tight enough to keep them there, but not tight enough to do any damage to you. You tugged on the restraints lightly, pouting when you found there wasn’t enough give to touch Lando while he fucked you into the mattress.

Lando gave the restraints a few investigative tugs, and when there was little movement and he was satisfied with the results, he leaned back, staring down at you yet again. You were starting to think he was getting more enjoyment out of just staring at you than anything else.

With heavy breathing and the occasional squeak of the headboard as you attempted to break free of the belt holding your wrists hostage, Lando finally began removing his sinfully tight black jeans. He pushed them down his legs with a carefree attitude, as though he had all the time in the world, whilst you were squirming around on the bed, desperate to get a look at, a hold of, a taste of what was hidden now by the thin black cotton that stretched over his painfully hard cock.

“If you keep squirming like that, I’ll tie your ankles next to your wrists and fuck you like that. Is that what you want?” Lando growled, pausing in his tantalising show of getting undressed to glare at you. You halted almost immediately, the image of Lando plowing into you while your wrists and ankles were bound together. You gulped, the vision was certainly tempting, however your pussy wouldn’t be able to take such a beating.

“No sir. I’m sorry sir.” You whimpered back, your words sent shocks of electricity through Lando’s body, and having abandoned his teasing display, he tore his underwear off and climbed onto your bed in a hurry.

He wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping a few times and letting out a shuddering sigh. His eyes cut to yours, a blazing fury warming them from the usual cool blue green to a warm green that made your pussy flutter. He slid the tip of his cock through your wet folds, biting his lower lip to contain the moans that were ready to fall past his lips. Your fists clenched around the belt, desperate for something to hold onto.

Lando thrust his hips into yours, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both moaned, the sweet relief of finally wrapping your velvety walls around his cock was overwhelming. Quite quickly, Lando set a punishing pace, his hips rolling out of you before snapping back to meet yours, his pubic bone putting delectable pressure on your clit, forcing moans out of your lips at an alarming rate.

His hands held a death grip on your hips, keeping your squirming body in its place while he used your body for his own pleasure. Your moans became louder, his hips forcing his cock deeper into your cunt, but Lando didn’t like that.

“You shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, yeah?” He spoke, his right hand reaching up to wrap around your throat, his fingers squeezing around the sides. The pressure only added to your mounting pleasure, Lando squeezing intermittently when you let out a particularly loud moan, reducing you to a pile of whimpers and pleas.

His hips began stuttering, the pleasure he was feeling overwhelming the perfect pace he had set. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him further into your hungry cunt, clenching around him like you were trying to pull his entire being into you. And maybe you were, if he kept this up, you were never going to let him out of you again.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” He whimpered, the first show of your usual Lando shining through, his hips moving with a renewed vigor. You couldn’t form words, his cock brushing against your g-spot with each thrust, forcing your body higher up the bed, your arms still bound above your head. The hand around your throat squeezed harder, and for a moment all you saw were stars, the pleasure of your second orgasm ripping through your body like a tidal wave. Each atom in your body was torn apart and stitched back together with the threads of Lando’s hot seed and rough hands.

Lando pulled out of you, watching his cum drip down your thighs for a moment before he jumped from the bed, hurrying into the ensuite as quickly as he could on shaky legs. You could hear the tap running, and after a few moments, he returned with a wet rag and your favourite lotion, leaving the bottle on the side table while he cleaned the mess between your thighs, becoming entranced with the sight for another moment before he finished up, tossing the dirty cloth into the ensuite. Lando crawled up the bed to you, undoing the belt that had begun to rub your wrists raw, and with your finally free hands, you cupped your boyfriend’s cheeks, pulling him into a sweet kiss to stop the steam train of thoughts inevitably running through his head.

With soft hands and caring eyes, Lando began rubbing the lotion onto your red wrists, kissing the skin briefly, then leaving another sweet kiss on your lips.

“Was that okay?” He whispered, insecurity rearing its head yet again, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the nervous look he was giving you.

“More than okay, baby. That was amazing. 10/10 would try again.” You giggled, caressing his shoulders with slow hands, grateful to finally be feeling his skin again.

“Well, I wouldn’t be mad at that. I have some ideas.” Lando replied, a cheeky lilt to his voice as he laid down beside you, pulling the covers up to cover you both.

“Oh, do you now? I’m all ears.”

#lando norris #Lando Norris fanfiction #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris imagine #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris smut #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #ln4

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animatedrapture · 3 years

Text

"VORFREUDE."

Summary: Sakusa thinks of you as his vorfreude, his intense anticipation from imagining future pleasures. He swears it's not mere delusions.

Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x F!Reader / slight Komori Motoya x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Genre & Content Warnings: Slight angst. NSFW. Dark content. Yandere behavior. Porn with Plot. Incel/Bully!Sakusa. Virgin!Reader. Abuse. Non-con. Blackmail. Coercion. Misogyny. Slut-shaming. Slight manipulation and mindbreak. Fingering. Corruption. Defloration. Degradation. Vaginal penetration. Creampie.

Notes: Thank you soooo much to the lovely anon who commissioned this! Took a lot longer than it should've cause academics kept cutting in & joint with my anxiety. But yeah, thank you so much :') Thank you Faiwy for the final beta !! <3

If you're thinking about commissioning me, please refer to this post.

You’re a constant, Sakusa thinks.

For as long as he can remember, you’ve been following him and Komori like a lost puppy—whenever they were, you were sure to be there. He can’t think far back enough to remember when it started, but you were insignia of constancy, that was all Sakusa knew.

He listens intently while you talk to Komori from beside him, voice low and stumbling over your words every so often—he knows you're going out of your way to avoid saying something he could use to pull you apart with, piece by piece like a frail little toy.

"How did the test from yesterday go?" Komori questions you, right as your trio made it to the cafeteria.

Your easy-going smile falters at the mention of it. Sakusa already knows the answer. He shares that class with you, after all. He had the front row seat to see your face flushed with humiliation and how rigid your body grew when the professor told you Sakusa would be tutoring you.

Reminding him that out of everything about you, the way you wore your heart on your sleeve is something that insistently rubbed him the wrong way.

First, because he starts thinking about how easy you make it for people to take advantage of you; it makes his blood boil. Then, he starts thinking about every reaction he could get out of you, like how you'd look from beneath him as he used your body the way you wanted him to.

Because you do, don't you? Why else would you go out of your way to adjust to his habits? To carry around your personal sanitizer and wipes, always making sure the space you were in with them was clean.

Nothing else could explain how you strung along with them like loose thread.

It tugs at the heart beneath his ribcage—but whenever he sees you give all your attention to Komori, the betrayal sinks in, and he's reminded what kind of a woman you are.

A whore.

As you laughed nervously, taking a seat across from them, Sakusa wonders if you're having fun, wonders if for a moment you're riddled with guilt as you flirt with his cousin and him at the same time, in the same breath.

"N-no, it didn't turn out very well," you admit in between stutters, embarrassment creeping back in.

Komori frowns empathetically, "I could help you, you know—"

The sparkle in your eyes is quick to appear. God, you're so cunning. It makes Sakusa consider that maybe you failed the test on purpose, thinking this would happen—but that would be giving you more credit than due. You're just a dumb little girl.

"I'm already tutoring them," Sakusa interrupts, and he's unsure whether to be delighted or angered at the way your face falls sullen.

"O-oh right, but—but I'd love to get your help, Motoya-kun—"

The scoff Sakusa lets out is loud, loud enough to make you wince. "You're dumb enough as it is, you don't need distractions," his words come slicing like knife. You sink in your seat.

Komori laughs awkwardly, giving you a smile—sheepish and apologetic—he's so kind, he's always so kind.

Sometimes you wonder how they're actually cousins; until you're reminded that Sakusa hadn't always been this mean to you. He had always been cautious, but he wasn't ever mean like he was out to get you at every ragged edge.

Somehow, though, the closer you got to him—past his defenses and indifference towards you—the meaner he's gotten.

You were like a moth to a flame, not in the sense that you were attracted to its light, but more so like being punished with burn after burn the closer you got.

But your feelings for Komori begged you at every instance to swallow the humiliation down, at each of Sakusa’s degrading remarks.

You take out your packed bento, wiping at the table with wipes before placing it down, the cousins moving to do the same out of adapted habit, until you notice Komori digging in his bag, eyebrows furrowed like he's confused.

"Motoya-kun? What's wrong?"

He turns to you, scratching at the back of his head, "I think I forgot my sanitizer."

You're quick on your hands, offering him yours without missing a beat and Sakusa's reminded of why he even likes you at all.

You were persistent with being able to stick around them. He thought that was remarkable. That you'd never been freaked out by his habits, you respected his space—something he couldn't say with the people who pushed and disregarded his boundaries. That instead of forcing him to adjust to you, you went out of your way for him to be comfortable with you around.

And he's flattered, really. He doesn't have to wonder if he had a chance with you because surely, he does.

Since he's so nice—nicer than a whore like you deserves, he'll let you know your feelings are reciprocated, then he'll fuck you, because surely, that's what you want… Right?

Then maybe, when you're finally his girlfriend, he can start training you to stop being such a flirty slut, that you belong only to him and that you’re nothing but his property.

But for now, he can settle with the warmth in his chest as he notices all the ways you try to get his attention.

Being with Sakusa is hard, even with Komori around, it was nerve wracking. Conversations with him weren't any easier, if anything, they were more dreadful.

When you ask Sakusa about tutoring you, you do it over lunch just so you avoid having to walk up to him alone. His answer is curt when he tells you to come over tomorrow, and that he’ll pick you up from your place; because you can try all you want to outsmart him, but he’d always catch on.

Because Sakusa was smart, and you were just you.

After lunch, you feel nothing but the dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach—churning and thrashing—because no matter how hard you try to push it down, the fact is that you’re actually scared of him.

Scared of the nitpicking he'll scrutinize you with—the way you sat, the way you looked at him, the way you trembled in his presence alone. You start thinking of what to wear, because even something as little as that can put him off—always commenting about how short your skirt is, how you're showing too much skin, how you're probably doing it on purpose.

But it's nothing you're not used to anymore.

So you tug on your fear, push it into a corner, and you tell yourself that Sakusa is mean, and condescending, and harsh, but he wouldn’t hurt you. You pick yourself up from the corner of your mind, and you repeat in your head like a mantra. Sakusa wouldn’t hurt you.

The ring of the bell breaks you out of your reverie. It reminds you that the day has almost ended, and that it felt like a blink faster than it should’ve been. Still, you pull on your things, gathering them to leave the classroom slowly emptying out.

You make a small sound of surprise when your eyes dart over to the door, where Komori stood, an anxious smile on his lips. He looks like he's been waiting for you, making your heart hammer against your chest like it wants to leap out.

Face-flushed and giddy, you walk towards him.

“Hey, Motoya-kun. What’s up?” You smile, all sweet and bright-eyed. From the pit of Komori’s stomach, something flutters. You only ever look like this when your eyes are on him; he thinks he wants to keep it to himself.

He brings a hand up to his hair, lightly scratching at the back of his head with a nervous smile, and it’s awkward in an adorable sort of way. He’s walking beside you along the corridor, it’s slow and the bit of silence between you is calm.

“Ah, well…” He starts, gaze flickering to the floor and back to you indecisively, “I was wondering if I could ask you to the newly opened café tomorrow. A-after you study with Sakusa-kun, of course,” He stutters a bit, offering you a boyish grin.

It so nearly pulls a squeak out of you, surprised in the most love struck sort of way. Your heart beats out of your chest unlike the way Sakusa makes you feel.

Your heart hammers out of fear of him—but with Komori, it's nothing but pleasant and warm and intoxicating.

Your smile is instantaneous; it comforts Komori as your lips part.

"I'd love to," you answer him softly, though an octave higher.

Sakusa finds you both like this, shyly smiling at each other like lovesick doves. There's nothing pure about you, you shouldn't be smiling that way. Especially not at the face of his cousin.

"Oi," he calls out, even through the face mask, his annoyance seeps into your skin and makes you feel small.

The blood that had rushed to your cheeks dries you pale at the glare he gives you.

"Coach is looking for you, Komori," he follows, yet never taking his eyes off of you.

"Right. I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N!"

Sakusa takes another step closer to you the moment Komori's out of sight. Your grip on your bag tightening, instinctively taking a step backwards.

The action alone makes him practically sneer with you cowering in response.

"Disgusting," he mutters, brimming with venom. "There's nothing I hate more than girls who throw themselves at any guy they see."

Maybe it's the sheer malice in his voice, or the way your eyes catch how his hand moves up—but you flinch, like expecting a hit to come across your cheek.

The pain never comes and when your eyelids flutter open, you're met with hard eyes the color of obsidian yet gleaming with a newfound resolve despite his furrowed eyebrows that suggested hitting you was far from the origin of his intentions.

Without a word, Sakusa walks away from you with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket.

You let your body slump against the wall. His eyes burn in the back of your head, almost like they’re warning you.

Right before you head to bed, your phone chimes once, then twice and it’s bittersweet. One from Komori, telling you he’s excited to see you tomorrow, and one from Sakusa—not beating around the bush, it says nothing but ‘9 AM.’

It’s firm and unyielding. Even as your head hits the pillow, forcing your eyes shut, sleep doesn’t come easy—not even at the thought of seeing Komori on a date.

It’s not the sunlight peeking in between your curtains that wake you, nor the sound of birds chirping outside your window. Instead, it’s the ache in your body acting like a bad omen. Nevertheless, you drag your body out of bed.

Your stomach churns but you get ready for the day.

You think the next hour couldn’t come any quicker, because you’re fidgeting on the balls of your feet and somehow, there’s goosebumps rising against your bare skin.

Your phone blinks back at you with a minute before nine o’clock but you already hear the knock on your door. Your breathing halts even as you move hurriedly to open it—and even when the air hits you as you find Sakusa on your doorstep.

You feel his eyes wander, from the very top of your head, down to your feet, and he mutters, “You look nice today.”

The blush that creeps on your cheeks is only natural. Compliments in any form that came from Sakusa were hard to come by—only because they were compliments in the most genuine, honest of ways.

Sakusa is mean, and if you were more honest with yourself, he’s a bully. But Sakusa, mean or not, is still Komori’s cousin; so you give him a smile, palms going clammy.

“Thank you, Sakusa-kun…” You trail off, hesitating on your next words, “You look nice today, too.”

And he does. The dark color of his clothes complimented his pale skin and dark, curly hair, and despite being covered by the mask, his pristine beauty seems to gleam through. Even seemingly unfazed, his gaze on you softens by a fraction.

As abrupt as it appeared, he’s already turning away, “Hurry up,” he quips, but his voice is softer because you look nice today were words that confessed his truest feelings—the ones that reminded him he’s so in love with you and that you’re the cause of warmth in chest.

Even when you strut around trying to get Komori to like you, Sakusa doesn’t attempt to deny the feelings he harbored, because you look nice today, too should mean something, shouldn’t it?

You know you’re dressed up for your date with Komori, but Sakusa doesn’t know that; so in that moment, he appreciates you. For once, there isn't one insult that lingers in his tongue or even in his head as he walks slowly.

Sakusa is nice today, you note as he keys the lock to his place. He had awkwardly placed his hand on the small of your back on the short walk it took from your place to his, guiding you along the sidewalk.

You've only been to his place once or twice, both times were with Komori, so you weren't familiar with the directions. The walk was silent, and in his silence, you found a reason to relax—just enough to make you think that this might go well.

Despite all awkwardness, Sakusa is forward. Seeing you sat on his couch so comfortably, the skirt of your dress riding up slightly, does nothing to hold back his urge to keep his hands on you.

It's a good thing he doesn't have to keep his hands to himself now, right? Since you like him so much, you'd let him fuck you now… Right?

Sakusa's movements are sly, that's why you don't question how he walks closer towards you, sitting so, so close to you—that's why you choke on the lump in your throat when his hand shoots out to grab you by the wrist, pulls you in, then presses his lips on yours.

The second that passes is only because you couldn't wrap your head around Sakusa—lips pressed against yours and body so close.

But the next second, you're pushing him off roughly enough to stop him and he's looking at you confused.

"Sakusa-kun, I think you misunderstood—I like, I like Motoya-kun, I didn't mean to—this is—" you're trampling over your words, looking at him with panicked eyes.

Sakusa mutes out the sound of your voice, all he can hear is the beating in his chest and the ache of it—the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. He should’ve known.

All the softness in his eyes are gone. His hand, still wrapped around your wrist, gripping tighter and tighter; your heart skipping obnoxiously against your chest. Something about the way he's looking at you now petrifies you.

His silence feels deadlier than his destructive words, deadlier when you wince at his grip, whimpering, "Sakusa, you're hurting me—please," and still, he doesn't let up.

Not when he's roughly tugging you from the couch, taking your arm with a bruising grip, then he's hauling you somewhere. You thrash, panicked pleas calling out to him and apologies he doesn't deserve but you offer him anyway. All your protests are rewarded when he halts, turning to you without a hint of remorse, pushing you to the floor—his foot comes to your side, kicking you with a force that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

Bile is rising up your throat, coughing and arms shooting to your stomach to protect yourself. Scared feels too small of a word to describe the feeling that looms over you as he takes your arm again, dragging your curled up body.

Sakusa shoves you inside a room, even as you flail around and beg for help, his face remains impassive; whatever force you’re putting in the way you try to break free from his hold is futile. Of course he’s stronger. Of course, but you can’t possibly accept this, can you?

You made Sakusa yearn—disgustingly grapple on his feelings so needlessly, and nothing, he thinks, could be more unforgivable.

So he secures you on the bed, bound and within his claws, for you to take responsibility for the yearning you've planted inside of him.

"S-Sakusa, please," your begging sounds like a whimper. "I-I won't tell anyone! N-not even Motoya-ku—!"

You hear ringing in your ears before feeling the sting across your cheek. From inside your mouth, you can taste metal.

"You won't tell anyone either way," he mutters apathetically, like the idea of you telling anyone isn't a threat, "No one would believe you…"

He pauses, gaze on you hardening for a second, "You don't want Komori finding out you only got close to him because you wanted me, right?"

The sound of disbelief that escapes you is small, even the wide-eyed betrayal that flashes in your eyes does nothing to make him even pity you.

"You–I, I didn't—"

At your stuttering, Sakusa clicks his tongue, "You're such a dumb girl you don't even know what you want."

"That's not true, Sakusa—"

He glares down on you. The bed dips, bracketing your body between his knees, hovering over you, then leaning forward. His hands move slowly as if caressing you before grabbing your hair with a stinging tug.

The fear pooling your eyes only makes him even angrier.

"I hate that face," he grits out, "Always looking at me all scared, then you look at Komori like a shy innocent bitch, it pisses me off."

Pretty as you are, he lands another hit across your cheek—hard enough that you can feel a cut on your cheek trickling down with blood, the side of your ear going deaf. You’re not sure anymore if it was a slap or a punch—all that you know is that it hurts. Your vision is blurred when you open your eyes, but even through them, the insanely expressionless eyes of Sakusa are clear.

It dawns on Sakusa that you wouldn’t date him. Of course you wouldn’t. Sluts like you go for guys like Komori—so he’d just have to take you by force, make you date him by force, make you love him by force.

Besides, you look prettier forced, he observes. Your face tear-stained and bloody makes his cock throb in his pants. With your body weak underneath him, so helpless that it disgusts him and fuels him with desire all at once.

Something about your weakness, the innocence that spills from you contradicting his firm idea that you’re a dirty whore makes him livid. He pictures you painted with bruises and cuts, the image sending a shiver down his spine. Clenched fists pull back, only to land on your sides, on the same places he kicked you.

What makes you feel sick at the stomach more than the abuse he inflicts on you is the way Sakusa’s movements lack hesitation as his hands travel to your bare thighs.

"W-what are you doing?”

It's disgusting. Women like you are disgusting. You lead him on just so you can take advantage of his feelings like this—that even if he knew better, he'd still soften up for you.

It's you who lured him into this, he almost sneers at the thought. You were truly vile, and yet he loves you all the same—wants you all to himself all the same.

"Omi?' You breathe, frightened. The nickname falls affectionately, though, putting all your hope into it, wishing it would tug on his heart enough for him to let you go.

“Let’s talk about this, Omi? Please?” You cry, searching for his eyes—the ones trained on your thighs as he glides his hands against them, your dress bunched up to your hips revealing your baby pink panties. Your sobs only grow louder as he goes further up, going on as if he’s in a trance where he can’t hear you groveling at him to stop.

Strong, calloused hands stop at the band of your panties, fingers hooking, and only then does he look back up at you. Dark eyes drown you as he tugs them down torturously slow, exposing you to him in your most vulnerable state.

The same second you attempt to force your legs shut, comes a biting pain on the inside of your thighs, instantly blooming his handprint at the force. Your mouth opens to wail at the pain, but it’s the same wail that Sakusa swallows as he brings his lips to yours with a kiss so treacherously passionate.

Sakusa pulls away quickly though, eyeing your bare cunt, he brings his fingers to your slit, experimentally rubbing up and down and your response is immediate, somehow. Your slick gathers on his fingers, body squirming from beneath him.

“K-Kiyoomi, it feels weird—stop, please,” yet your hips buck into his fingers as he prods at your tight hole, “Don’t—Not there—N-no one has touched—”

He lifts an eyebrow, “You’re a virgin?” His question sounding more of a comment, because the hesitant nod you give him is almost needless when you hiss at the intrusion of his digit pushing inside of you; your walls clamping down on it, body tensing, he brings a thumb to your clit, circling with enough pressure to make it feel good.

And it’s wrong. So wrong, but it feels good because you’re moaning against your will, whimpering at the curl of his finger and at the additional finger he’s slowly sinking into you.

The stretch is uncomfortable and foreign. Nothing is in Sakusa’s mind but at the thought of you absolutely untouched, absolutely all for him to ruin. Your body instinctively leaning to his, submitting to his ministrations—fingers scissoring and pushing in and out of your pussy, the sound of your slick echoing in your ears as if to taunt you, but your legs are trembling, your gasps are broken and there’s a pressure in your pelvis about to snap.

“You’re so filthy,” he mutters, but he looks at you like you’re the farthest thing from filthy, and his comment is exactly what makes you break, eyes rolling to the back of your skull and cunt creaming around his fingers pathetically.

You feel so dirty, especially at the sound of your slick as he pulls his fingers out and shoves them inside your mouth—the taste of you tainting your tongue. Shaking your head profusely, you beg him with your eyes, “No more—please, I don’t want this.” you weep, muffled.

“Suck,” he commands, but your defiance is clear before you even shake your head, so he pushes his fingers down further, choking you until you gag and find it hard to breathe.

“Suck,” he repeats, and you relent.

Watching you suck messily on his fingers, drool and tears disheveling you, dried blood sticking to your skin, he frees his twitching cock out of its constraints.

Though hazy, your eyes catch it, the thickness of his cock—hard and flushed at the tip—your hands tugging at your restraints feebly making you panic and choke on his fingers, nearly biting down on them.

He’s quick to pull them out, glaring down at you with dark eyes, jaw ticking as his hands curl into fists; knowing what’s to come doesn’t prepare you any more at the excruciating pain of his abuse, even more so at his length pressing against your wet folds—cockhead nudging your puffy clit and making your cunt drool on him.

Both hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them to your chest. The pain on your face numbs at the sensation of him prodding on your entrance, ripping you apart and increasing the pain—your head throbs as he stretches your cunt with his fat cock, barely giving you time to adjust as he starts to move slowly despite your tense walls barely allowing him.

He curses as he ruts into you, bathing in your cries and moans, violating and invading the entirety of you. The pleasure of feeling you and having you just like this seeps into his bones, turning his languid thrusts more desperate.

“You make desperation look so pretty,” he groans, “You’re making such a mess, you like being forced like this?”

He insults you, but you’re everything he always wanted and more—the taste of your skin as he sucks marks onto your neck as if you were his to own, the clenching and humiliating sound of your cunt squelching as he pounds into you and grunts against your skin. His cock throbs inside you and drags along your velvety walls deliciously; all you can think is that you hate this.

Pressure, pain, the drowning pleasure of Sakusa all over you and inside you don’t allow you to retreat to the back of your head and forget. Not with the burning euphoria building up in your stomach or the moan that slips from your lips as Sakusa brings one of your legs down, bringing his hand to your breasts and thumb swiping around your sensitive nipples.

“O-Omi, please,” you sob, weak and submissive—just how you should be. Your nails dig into your palms, arms aching from your restraints. “I-I’m gonna—I think I—”

“Y-you really are a whore,” he spits, voice strained yet patronizing, still. “Do it, then. Cum on my cock.”

His hand moves in between your thighs, fingers pressing and rubbing circles on your clit as you cry out, tight walls clamping down on him and stuttering his already sloppy thrusts, your arousal running down his length and down to his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

Your moans come out as squeals of his name, your back arching and breath catching in your throat, vision going white as he continues to fuck into you.

His breathing is ragged, moving to bury his face into the crook of your neck in an odd show of affection, your swollen cunt pulsating around his cock as he suddenly stills, his low groan vibrating against your skin as he empties inside you.

You want to cry—but nothing comes out, all you can feel is the bruises on your skin, Sakusa’s cock buried deep inside you and his cum leaking from your abused hole, the stickiness and the sweat.

Maybe Sakusa’s right. Maybe you are disgusting, because as he peels himself from you, thinking it’s all over—Sakusa doesn’t undo the ties keeping you on the bed.

He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing his phone. The sound of the shutter going off once, twice, over and over with the camera directed at you pulls your soul out of you.

“Omi—?” Your question remains a lump in your throat, but Sakusa is smart. He doesn’t need to hear your question.

“You’re my girlfriend now…” He mutters carelessly, “but I’m sure you don’t want Komori to see how you like to be fucked, right?”

#sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #yandere haikyuu #;commish

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