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satorusugurugurl · 6 months

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Buzzed

Summary: Your boyfriend doesn’t drink. He’s a lightweight, never saw the appeal, and, well, it makes him horny.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!Reader

Warnings: Whiny super whiny Gojo, handjob, public play, Gojo is just buzzed, not drunk consent is key, there are several reasons he doesn't like alcohol

Word Count: 2,307

A/N: this popped into my head at work. The need for Gojo to whimper and whine is intense.

Gojo didn't drink. He had nothing against people who liked to drink; by all means, to each their own. He never liked the taste; he was a lightweight, and he'd rather spend his money on sweets. There, however, was another reason he didn't drink. One that was far too embarrassing to mention.

Whenever Satoru would drink, he'd get horny, like super horny.

So, it was safer for him to avoid alcohol altogether, which was pretty easy. That was until you both went to one of your co-workers' birthday party. You casually conversed with some friends while Gojo headed into the kitchen. He was in search of cake, but he found punch instead. He filled his glass, tentatively giving it a sip.

It didn't taste like there was alcohol in it, so he drank a full red solo cup. And he was working on his third in the living room when he felt like his blood was on fire. The room was hot, sweltering, and you, god, you looked even hotter. The tight-fitted shirt you wore emphasized the curves of your perfect body and breasts. Your ass looked amazing in your jeans, and your smile was to die for. God, why did you look like a goddess tonight?

There was a certain glow about you that drew him in like a moth to a light. He hummed, resting his chin on your shoulder, his body pressed firmly against your backside. Not only did you look good, but you smelt fucking delectable.

You turned your head, kissing his cheek before turning back to your friends, joining in with their conversation, leaning back into Satoru when you both felt it. The huge and very hard bulge in his pants had you choking on your words as Satoru straightened, glancing at you in sheer panic.

“Toru?” He grimaced at the tone of your voice. “Please tell me that's your phone.”

“It’s not,” he confirmed your fear.

“Can you get outside to the balcony?” A glance over his shoulder confirmed no one was remotely close to his sanctuary.

“Yeah.” His voice was so gravely as his cock twitched in his pants.

“Good, go on. I'll be out in a sec.”

The second Gojo stepped into the cool night air, he groaned, looking down at his pants. What the fuck? Why was he sporting the world's biggest boner of all time? Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He slowly sank into the dark corner, resting his back against the window where the curtain was still drawn, waiting for you to join him.

A second later, the sliding glass door opened and shut. Gojo’s hands flew towards his crotch, shielding his erection from any prying eyes. When he saw you turn the corner, he released the breath he'd been holding, dropping his hands to his sides. Satoru shut his eyes tight, biting back a pained whine. All you could do was knit your eyebrows together as you watched.

“Satoru? Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Nngh, fuck, I don't know.” His cock throbbed hard at the sound of your voice. “I'm so goddamn hard.”

“Aren't you always hard?” The teasing tone in your voice attempted to lighten the mood.

“Yes, but your point is irrelevant. Fuck, I don’t know what happened. I only get surprise boners like this when I drink!”

Satoru was panting as you tilted your head slightly to the side. “But you did. Mina’s punch has a fuck-ton of alcohol in it.” Your boyfriend's face was contorted in pained pleasure and confusion. “People can’t taste the alcohol because of the liter of Lemon-Lime soda and the whole ass pint of sherbet.”

“Fucking fantastic,” Glancing back down at his erection, he sighed in frustration. “I-It’s going to be awhile for this bitch to go down. I’ll stay out here; you go inside and enjoy the party.”

Right now, in this embarrassing moment, Satoru could barely look at you. During the entirety of your relations, Gojo never drank, leaving that up to you if you were in the mood. You understood he particularly wasn’t too keen on drinking; it was his personal preference. Seeing him now, sulking in a corner, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, cock throbbing. It made a little more sense.

Laughter and loud music blared inside the apartment, drawing your attention to the door. Mina’s special punch was getting to everyone, it seemed like. They were so immersed in their current conversations and food would they even notice your absence?

Satoru was in physical pain. His teeth were clenched as he hissed out in frustration. You took notice of his hands, how they twitched, drawing closer to his crotch before pulling away. The man was fighting against every instinct in his buzzed horny brain. You could tell by his expression that he wanted to do nothing more than stroke his fat cock until he came all over his fist. Satoru, however, was also one not to let his lust overtake him.

He wasn’t some horny freak that would pull his dick out and stroke it until he jizzed all over your friend's balcony railing. You, however, weren’t as collected as he was. Seeing your boyfriend's cock twitching in his pants, the tiny wet spot forming over his leaking tip, made you fucking feral.

“I don’t want to go back.” Closing the distance between you, Gojo watched with bated breath as your pretty hands unbuttoned his pants.

“Tsk!” Your boyfriend hissed, crystal blue eyes darting towards the door. “Y-Y/N, what if someone comes out?!”

“I guess you’ll need to stay quiet. That way, if someone does come.” You whispered, your fingers slowly tugging his zipped down. “Can you do that for me?”

Satoru didn’t have time to think of a response because his dick did all the talking for him. It throbbed hard in the confines of his boxers. He whined and watched more pre-cum seep through the fabric of his boxers.

You cooed, running the bed of your thumb over the growing wet spot. “I’ll take that as a yes?” A nod and a tiny whimper was all you needed.

Slowly, you slid your hand down the band of his boxers, immediately coming into contact with his hot cock. His velvety shaft twitched as you tugged his boxers down just enough to free his erection. The tip was a furiously red shade; his slit dribbled pre-cum. Seeing his fat cock this hard has your cunt clenching around nothing.

“Ahh, fuck, fuuuck,” Satoru whispered through a hiss as you wrapped your fingers around his shaft. You slowly stroked your hands up and down. Squeezing it, trying to mimic how your pussy would pulsate around him when he would fuck you. “Y-Y/N~”

Using his pre-cum as lube, you smeared it up and down his length. Watching the pretty tip twitch madly each time you collected your makeshift lubricant. Satoru groaned, eyes half-lidded, watching you, the way you shifted, pressing your thighs together, how you took your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down on it, as you jerked him off.

“I-I’m, haaa, I’m the one g-getting jerked off here. B-But you, holy fuck!” He clamped his hand over his mouth, stifling a moan. Your teasing jerks, changed, your wrist twisting with every move. “Nnngh, f-fuck but y-yo—ooooh shit, you're the one e-enjoying yourself.”

“Of course, I’m enjoying myself. Satoru, I love feeling your dick get hard in my hand. It's so fat, hot, god, it makes me wet.”

Satoru flushed, head tilting back, the veins in his neck straining as he clenched his jaw. He was the one that would normally talk to you like this. Having it turned the other way around, he had his head spinning. The dizziness was so intense your boyfriend tilted his head back before he began thrusting into your tight-fitted fist.

“Fuuck, Haa, ooh fuck sweetheart, feels so good.” you bit back a moan of your own, watching as he ducked your hands, stinks of pre-cum running over your fingers, as he slammed the palm of his Hans against the railing. “D-Dont stop baby~ fuck Y-Y/N don't fuckin’ stop.”

Watching him desperately fuck your hand was so fucking pretty. From the thin sheen of sweat on his beautiful face to the throbbing shaft in your hand, everything about Gojo had panties soaked. Right now, you wanted to drag him out of the cramped apartment and back to your place where you would fuck his brains out.

But getting him through the apartment right now was out of the question.to get what you wanted, you had to get him off first! The faster he came, the faster you'd get to have him inside of you.

“You're doing such a good job, Toru~” Your hand moved faster. “I love feeling your cock sliding into my hand. But I love it so much more when you’re sliding into me, stretching me with your cock.”

Satoru was a hundred present, certain you were responsible for his hot blood and the hazy gaze that lingered over his eyes. You were the source of his buzz, and it had him jerking like a virgin into your first. You tried matching his thrusts with your hand. The whines that left his mouth were all the confirmation you needed to know that it felt good.

“F-Feels so good.” Satoru cried out, head dipping down to watch you jerk him off. “Holy fuck, your hand feels so good.”

“Mmhm~ just think about how good my pussy will feel when I get you home.” A grunt sounded from him. “Yeah~ you like knowing that you’re going to fuck me when we get home~? You going to reward me for helping you~?”

“Y-Yes, p-please don’t stop Y/N, I can feel it coming. God, I’m going to cum so hard.”

Hearing the pleasure that paved his voice had you pressing your thighs together. “Yeah~ are you going to cum~? Do it; I want you to cum, baby~ I want you to feel so good~ Like the good you are.”

“Y/N?” Gojo jerked, his head searching for the source of your voice. “Hey, is Gojo okay?”

Without missing a beat, you pulled Satoru down with your free hand. Your hand pushed the back of his head into the crook of your neck. Gojo didn’t know what you were doing at first, but as your hand left to join the other stroking his throbbing cock, he picked up on what to do. He whimpered and moaned softly into the crook of your neck.

“Oh yeah, he’s just a bit buzzed right now.” You stroked him harder, squeezing his shaft. “He doesn’t like drinking and thought the punch was safe.”

Satoru’s arms wrapped around you, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt. His breathing whines were hot against your skin as his balls started to clench. He was so close to cumming, his eyes shutting tight, losing himself in the cooling sensation in his abdomen. So close, he was so close.

“Aww, poor guy, did you need anything?”

Gojo needed whoever the fuck this was to get out of here. He whined out your name into your neck. Hot breath having you shifting.”Y//N c-close.” He whispered as softly as he could as you jerked him faster, both hands working in tandem.

“Nope! We’ll be back inside in a second; I gotta get him home.”

“Okay!”

You waited until the door shut when you moaned with him. “Good boy, good boy~” his fingers dug into your back. “Go on, Toru~ cum for me~ give me it all.”

Satoru cried out into your neck in a nearly silent cry. “Y-/N oooh~ god fuck~ holy fuckin’ shit! C-Cummin’ I-I’m cumming.” You suddenly understood why he loved you, scratching up his back when you came around his cock. It felt good, so good, as he spurted thick ropes of cum all over your hand. “Nnngh oh fuck~! Fuck! Fuck!” His whines were shaky and nearly breathless as his cock weakly twitched in your hand. “Y-Y/NN~”

Gently you let go of his softening cock, bring your cum coated hand to your mouth. Satoru watched you closely, his chest heaving as he slowly came down from his high. He had half expectantly thought you were going to wipe his cup off on the inside of his jacket. What he hadn’t been anticipating was for you to flatten your tongue and lick it off. His sensitive cock twitched back to life at the lewd sight.

“Mmm~” You hummed in delight as if you just finished a meal. “So sweet and salty, Satoru~ I wanna taste it first hand when we get home.”

A switch flipped in Satoru’s head, be it post-nut clarity. He grabbed you by the face, turning you so you were pressed against the sliding glass door. The sudden flip had your breath catching in your throat as your boyfriend bent down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“The only one who is doing any sort of tasting when we get home will be me. If you don’t get us out of here fast, I’ll be sampling that soaking cunt right here.”

You didn’t need to be told twice; you dragged Satoru out of the party, shouting out brash goodbyes. Satoru might be buzzed from the punch. But you were buzzed off of him, and you needed to turn that buzz into a love-drunken affair.

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chiaraswritings · 1 month

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Batman Vs Bruce Wayne Headcanons: Date Night with fem!Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own DC or their settings. This is certainly not canon.

Warnings & Topics: Smut, comfort. 18+.

Important Note: 18+ suggestive headcanons begin after the stars (✶ ✶ ✶), and will have a star (✶) in their intro.

Author's Note: Don't come for me, it's been awhile! For everything. This is my first time posting headcanons so I'm sorry if I didn't do them right. Nonetheless, I hope you're all having an incredible summer, and I hope you enjoy.

☽ Batman

☽ Batman not wanting to take off the Batsuit until you have to physically take it off him. And then physically put the matching hoodie you got on him.

☽ Batman not being anywhere near finished with the case he's working on.

☽ Batman letting you sit on his lap while he "finishes up real quick".

☽ Batman grumbling because you saw him rubbing his eyes, and now you're worried about the blue light from the Batcomputer affecting him. "The computer is not the enemy, (y/n)."

☽ Batman looking over your shoulder to see who you're texting and rolling his eyes that you're actually playing a merging game.

☽ Batman letting you fall asleep on his lap, and when you wake up, he still has his arms in the exact same position around you as he did an hour ago. The only thing that's changed is the screen.

☽ Batman rolling his eyes fondly when you get bored by his research on the screen. "Technically, this is classified information. You're not even supposed to be reading this."

☽ Batman letting you order Chinese to the manor from his phone. You abandon his lap only to run up and get it, coming back with the plastic bag. He only eats when you hold the chopsticks up for him (both of his hands are on the keyboard).

☽ Batman allowing you to steal kisses every so often, then complaining you taste like beef and broccoli.

☽ Batman giving you gentle squeezes to check in. He'll run his hand down to yours and squeeze, and you'll capture his hand with your fingers.

☽ Batman finishing his work and turning you in his lap to give you his full attention.

☽ Batman scoffing when you ask if you can watch a Disney movie on the Batcomputer, but it only takes a few moments of convincing before he grumbles and relents.

☽ Batman breathing in the smell of your shampoo as he half-watches the movie with you. You glare at him, subtly telling him to pay attention to the plot, and he finally does. "What, are you quizzing me on it later?"

✶ ✶ ✶ (18+ content ahead) ✶ ✶ ✶

☽ ✶ Batman totally not getting distracted when you take off your shirt and go right back to cuddling in your sports bra. Because he's Batman, of course he doesn't get distracted.

☽ ✶ Batman forgetting all about the movie and starting research on you instead. Our ADHD king. ✨

☽ ✶ Batman making out with you in the middle of the Batcave, his hands unashamedly memorizing your curves. Your waist, your thighs, up to cup your breasts in calloused hands, then back down to your thighs again.

☽ ✶ Batman pulling you into the Batmobile of all places for privacy. "What? It's the closest place with a lock." So now you are destined to have sex in his car. Though the darkened windows do give a certain... aura to the tight space.

☽ ✶ Batman pulling you on top of him in the driver's seat, secretly grateful you made him take off the Batsuit earlier. You're soon locked in a kiss again, his lips eager and his hands running over your thighs.

☽ ✶ Batman gruffly apologizing when you bump your head on the roof of the car as he peels off your leggings unceremoniously. "Careful. It's cramped in here." He keeps his hand near your hand after that.

☽ ✶ Batman's hands supporting your hips as you grind against him, you can feel his growing erection through those goddamn sweatpants you made him wear. The only noise he makes is low grunts and deep exhales through his nose, clear signs to your trained ear that he's enjoying this.

☽ ✶ Batman keeping his hands on your thighs the entire time you ride him. His fingers roughly dig into your skin, keeping your legs parted, helping you move up and down. His lips find yours, muffling your shrill moans.

☼ Bruce Wayne

☼ Bruce Wayne not really having a preference between going out and staying in.

☼ Bruce Wayne loving the way you dress up when you try a new restaurant together. You have the best smear-proof lipstick, so he can kiss you as often as he wants.

☼ Bruce Wayne keeping you close when he sees a camera lens pointing at them. If the picture's going to hit the news, he wants everyone to know you're his girl.

☼ Bruce Wayne not really paying attention to anything but you. He mumbles absently to the waiter, his eyes trained on yours. It could be the completely wrong dish that comes out, one he despises, and he wouldn't really care. He's too happy being with you.

☼ Bruce Wayne not minding your requests to stay in instead of go out. He'll take off his jacket and shoes without a second thought, handing you one of his hoodies to stay warm in. "Here. You're going to steal it later anyways."

☼ Bruce Wayne putting on your favorite Netflix show as you curl up into his sheets. Word on the street is he wanted to buy the whole show just for you, and when the company turned him down, you had to stop him from punching the representative.

☼ Bruce Wayne binging a pack of Oreos with you, and then kissing you even with cookie in your teeth.

☼ Bruce Wayne keeping you close when you fall asleep, but even then he doesn't turn off the show. By this time he's way too invested in the plot he once rolled his eyes at.

☼ Bruce Wayne waking up in the middle of the night to see you re-watching the episodes you slept through, and gladly watching them again. He's so bad at not spoiling the ending. You'd think he could keep a secret, with all the secrets he already keeps.

☼ Bruce Wayne falling asleep right at the climax (he's already seen), and you low-key getting pissed off at him because you're so invested and on edge.

☼ Bruce Wayne drifting in and out of sleep until you finally fall asleep with him, the show playing in the background. You'll have to finish it another day.

☼ Bruce Wayne waking up before you do and brushing his teeth so he won't have morning breath when he kisses you.

☼ Bruce Wayne insisting you can't just eat Oreos for breakfast, though you argue it has the same nutrients as a muffin would.

✶ ✶ ✶ (18+ content ahead) ✶ ✶ ✶

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne insisting he only joined you in the bathroom so he can shave, and nicking himself more than once because he was sneaking peeks at you in the shower.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne finally giving up on shaving and watching you in the shower without shame. His eyes follow the lather that runs over the curve of your hips and down your legs.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne staring for so long, you finally open the shower door as an invitation. He strips in record time and steps in, quickly turning the water to a hotter temperature.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne being fully aroused from the moment he steps in the shower, but taking the time for foreplay. His hands move from your waist, to your stomach, then between your legs, his fingers doing nimble, skilled work there.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne wrapping one of your legs around his waist, his lips doing their duty on your neck, his fingers working between your legs where you need them the most. He usually takes the lead in roleplay, reducing you to a mess in his arms.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne keeping his hand between your legs as he thrusts into you, fingertips pressing against your bundle of nerves. He knows exactly how to please you, and how to not overstimulate you.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne murmuring sweet (sexy) nothings into your ear as he fucks you. All you can do is open your mouth in a silent moan, your breath coming out in a long sigh.

☼ ✶ Bruce Wayne resting his forehead against yours, the water running over your lips, making them look so inviting. He's not so lost in pleasure that he can't notice this, and he pauses his thrusts to kiss you like you're an addiction. Your hips buck, the lack of movement annoying you slightly. He grins and resumes, his fingers moving in between your bodies, fucking you in all the right ways.

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blueywrites · 8 months

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18+

Thinking about riding Eddie after one of his shows.

He's drenched in sweat, curls plastered to his cheeks and jaw, strong shoulders braced against the scratchy back of the bench seat in his dimly lit van. His body thrums with leftover adrenaline beneath you - the same that still buzzes in your veins too, ignited as you watched him perform from below the stage platform. You gazed up at Eddie's face and voice and body, seeing him raw and nearly feral in his element, and a hot-blooded thing purred low in your belly, ready for the promise of after. Yet despite the needy glint in his eyes and the steady pulse between your thighs that grew throughout his set, you and Eddie aren't fucking furiously now. Instead, the way you move your hips against his is deep and slow and unhurried, like you have all night to wring each ounce of pleasure out of him, and he out of you. You savor the taste of musk and sweat as you lick up the thick vein in his neck. In reply, his fingers tighten on the fat of your ass, dimpling the flesh as he drags you forward and up only to drop you back down against his hairy thighs, over and over.

You let him help you for awhile, preoccupied by lavishing his neck and jaw with your mouth before leaning back and taking over. You roll your hips at a languid pace, dragging your puffy lips hard against his pubic bone and squeezing his length tight inside you until his head falls forward onto your chest. You hold the back of his wild curls, tucking in your fingers and urging him close as his breath huffs against your sternum. You're just as sticky as he is now, wet with sweat dewed between your breasts and with slick now dripping down his heavy balls, squelching each time you pull and push.

Eddie's tongue laves a thick, hot path between the valley of your breasts, and your breath deepens when he seeks for more after that first taste - licking, nipping, mouthing at the plush of your breasts, rooting restlessly for more of your salt against his teeth.

Nights like this, Eddie doesn't run his mouth the way he usually does. There are no murmurs of endearments or filthy praise, and part of you mourns the lack even as you sigh when he finally takes the tight bud of your nipple into his mouth, sucking firmly and looking up at you from beneath the tangle of his damp bangs. His gaze remains intent on your face as he works your nipple deeper in, and your breath hitches when he pulls it between his teeth.

That's where bliss is: your head hanging back, lolling uselessly on your neck as every roll of your hips coaxes out a delicious sting to mix with the pleasure of his fat tip rubbing against that sensitive spot inside. Because Eddie keeps your nipple trapped there between his teeth as you continue to ride him. He rumbles his satisfaction when you moan and quicken your pace so the rhythmic tug becomes a little meaner.

And it's hardly a sacrifice that he can't speak when he can watch you fall apart on top of him. You crush his head to your chest, arms wrapped tight around his ears, writhing and whimpering as you cum on his cock. After, once you loosen your grip, he soothes your abused nipple with soft wet licks, pressing a little kiss right to the peak before grinning up at you with that crooked, manic smile of his.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson drabble

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poppy-metal · 2 months

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everyime you show sugardaddy!art your pussy he acts like you're showing him excaliburs holy sword or the fountain of youth. even though he's fucked you countless times - knows the exact grip you have around his cock - he still can't get enough. can you blame the man? divorced for years after an unloving marriage he'd tried so hard to make work - all for the sake of his religion. he's just now breaking free, acting on his wants, being selfish - you are something magical to him - that soft haven between your legs is something he'll never wrap his head around that he gets to sink inside.

making an important call and you're on his bed - and just for fun you spread your legs while hes in the middle of a conversation - your sleek pink slip sliding down your thighs as your bare cunt comes into view. no panties. no reason to.

he stops mid sentence as he looks between your legs. phone nearly slipping from his fingers. you watch his face with amusement and growing arousal as his cheeks pinken and flush - his lips parting. his pupils dialate.

and yeah - art donaldson is your sugar daddy and he pays for your company and to take you out on dates and to fuck you after - but really? you'd do it all for free. (you're not ready to tell him that though) the way he makes you feel - the power of having the ardent worship of such a well off, beautiful man. before art you've never had the mere sight of your pussy make someone halt what they were doing to just stop and stare. you'd never had a man lay you out and tongue you for hours and hours until you were sobbing. you'd never been made love to - fucked so intensely you whole body trembled like a leaf from the force of your orgasm.

now because of him, all of that is par for the course.

it still makes your heart jump in your chest when art murmurs, "I'll call you back," and hangs up - sliding smoothly to his knees. seamless. the power dynamics are all skewed because he's the one crawling to you and yet your heart is a jackhammer in your chest. you feel almost giddy the closer he comes. until he's on his knees between your legs and his hands come up to curl around your ankles. his thumb tracing the anklet he'd bought you just last week.

it cost more than your college tuition.

"you're so beautiful."

your toes curl at the way he says it. soft and tender. you know he means it. it could almost make you cry.

"my pussy?" you smile, teasing him.

his eyes meet yours, and you swallow at the heat in them. hes so hot when he gets serious like that. focused and intense.

"all of you," he says. he turns his head to kiss the outside of one of your knees. his lips skimming your skin gives you goosebumps. "every inch."

you're throbbing between your legs - your clit a steady beating pulse. "was that an important call?" you ask, breathlessly as arts hands move to skim down your thighs, cup the round cheeks of your ass - you squeal when he grips - yanks so your pelvis is nearly dangling off the bed. your legs go over his shoulders easily, like they fit there. they do.

"probably." art admits but he doesn't sound upset. his eyes are locked in on your pussy -

"shouldn't you call them back?"

"something more important came up."

and then you lose your voice - sucked back down your throat when art dips his head and his mouth finds your cunt - his tongue parting your sensitive flesh. ohhhhhhhhhh. your head falls back, your hand carding through soft blonde hair to find a grip, something to hold onto.

he won't be calling them back for awhile.

#poppy speaks #woof #art donaldson smut

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sillybilly01 · 4 months

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Begging ♡

18+ content

Afab used

Themes: Sub Stephen Glass, dom reader, work buddies, and slight dacryphilia

After a seemingly endless day at the office, reviewing and editing countless papers there is nothing more you wanted to do than go home and ignore everything and everyone around you. But unfortunately as you made your escape to your car you were stopped by your colleague, Stephen Glass.

You wouldn't say you're exactly friends with him but he was always nice enough. Even though he was painfully awkward and struggled to make connections within the office. You couldn't help but feel bad for him. Maybe that's how he convinced you to come to his apartment for drinks and how you ended up in his bedroom making out passionately on his bed after one too many.

His lips fumbled yours almost unsure of what to do. Eventually you pulled away.

"Can I take off your shirt?" You ask, toying with its collar.

Stephen starts nodding, almost frantically as you slowly unbutton his work shirt.

"I've never done this before" he blurts out.

"It's okay I'll take care of everything" As you reassuringly kiss his temple.

Stephen by now has fumbled off his pants and boxers, laying completely naked on the bed. You quickly discard your clothing as well taking a sick pleasure in how his face contorts as you take off your bra. Slowly you reach over to your purse on his bed side table and take out a condom. He is almost completely hard and with a few strokes of your hand he is there, shivering at the touch.

"That feel good?"

"So so good" He stutters.

Once the condom is on you start kissing up his neck, making sure to leave marks. Then after teasing him a bit more you snap your hips down on to his. His head flies back, mouth open, groaning, and trying to place his hands around your waist. You continue this pace for awhile until you feel yourself coming close. You grab his hand from your waist and guide it to your clit. He rubs in circles eyes locked on you, still unsure of what to do. With the way he's staring up at you, his dick inside of you, and his inexperienced hands trying their best to pleasure you, you come undone. After your high is gone you get off him completely. You stand from the bed reaching for your bra.

"What are you doing?" He questions.

"Getting dressed"

"Why? we haven't finished"

"Yes we have" you reply shooting him a sickenly fake smile.

A moment passes as you continue to dress yourself.

"But I didn't cum"

"Is that my problem?"

He just continues to watch you, tears welling up in his eyes.

"Please" His voice cracking.

"You want me to help you out?"

"Please, I need you so bad" he squeaks.

You kneel back on the bed thumbs wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Okay" you mutter.

His face practically lights up. Followed by a million small thank yous. Your hand wraps around his dick as you begin jerking him up and down. You put him in your mouth using just your tongue to circle his tip. The stimulation sends him whining and holding onto the sheets. Pushing your head down you finally take it all in your mouth and start bobbing up and down his shaft. It doesn't take long for him to come down your throat. Finally coming up for air you admire his fucked out expression his messy brown hair, the pink flush in his cheeks, and the tears or sweat streaking down his face, you couldn't tell which it was.

#stephen glass #hayden christensen #stephen glass x reader #stephen glass smut #stephen glass x you #anakin smut #anakin x reader

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onyourowndaisymae · 1 year

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don't mind me... just thinking about the demon brothers slowly dropping the rest of their roster for you as they fall head over heels...

lucifer // mammon // levi // satan // asmo // beel // belphie (you are here) -- others coming soon, NSFW warning below, gn!reader

belphegor, who looks at you with such sharp eyes as you speak to him through the attic door. his smile sharpens when you look away, only to be kind and forgiving when you meet his eyes. you're his ticket to freedom. he'll play nice with you as you schmooze with his siblings. and, when the time is right, he'll make sure you have a one way ticket to the celestial realm.

belphegor, who doesn't think this is fair at all. he doesn't understand why he keeps getting the short end of the stick. first his sister was taken from him, then his freedom, and now you? no. he's sick of this. he's sick of losing things. the exchange program is ending sooner than he can handle. now that he likes you, he likes you, and he doesn't want to share. he'll plop his head into your lap and curl around you like a kitten after a long day, all sweet and innocent, tuning out the way mammon bitches at him for the (admittedly sneaky) move. you carefully pet his hair and his face flushes-- he'll play it off by pretending to be asleep.

belphegor, who uses the occasional hookup to keep himself satiated. he watches the pretty demon bounce on his cock, their keens covering the little noises of pleasure he makes. if he closes his eyes, he can pretend it's you. he can pretend the whines falling from their lips are yours, the grinding of their hips against his your desperation for him instead. the fantasies are easier when he doesn't have to do the work. he doesn't have to forget the feeling of his own hand on his cock to imagine it's yours, to watch explicit videos and pretend he doesn't notice the performers don't quite look like you.

belphegor, who doesn't mind ignoring others if it meant he'd get a chance with you. he's at another one of diavolo's stupid, boring parties, eying you from across the room while he's caught in conversation with someone interested in him. he will not-so-politely brush women and men alike off with a blank stare, peeking at you to make sure you saw him turn down other options. if that doesn't get the point across, he'll stalk across the floor to you, draping his sleepy frame across your shoulders or around your waist, mumbling something about how he'd rather spend the evening with you instead.

belphegor, who will give you every ounce of his energy when he finally has you. it's the middle of the night, but he's wide awake, breath warm on your shoulder as he whispers filthy promises against your skin. you've finally given him a chance to show you what he's been wanting to do since he first laid eyes on you. his touch was slow-- not lethargic, but deliberate-- as he ran his hand along the swell of your bare ass, swatting it a little just to grin when you squirm. his lips meet the nape of your neck, then his fangs, then his lips again as an apology. he's slow to enter you. and he's slow to begin moving once he's sheathed inside you. belphie wants to savor the way you clench around his cock, the whine that's muffled against the pillows as he pulls back, an obscene slick noise following the drag of his hips as he pushes back in. nice, slow, steady thrusts. in and out. his cheeks are flushed, and he bites his bottom lip hold back the little whimpers that threaten to expose how long he's yearned for you, yearned for the way your ass bounces against him each time his hips jerk forward. he's relieved when you finally reach your climax-- he doesn't have to act like he wasn't teetering over the edge since he slipped inside. you start to roll over but he catches your hips. not yet. he's not done with you. he won't be for awhile. he's here to make up for lost time-- his brothers may have had you first, but you're his now. he'll fuck you over and over until you remember that.

taglist for this series: @the-demonus-aunt // @scienceisfornerds // @hostilemakeover // @snow-fall1

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me belphie smut #obey me belphegor smut #otome

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hahaifolded · 19 days

Text

141 x POC!GN Intelligence Operative - Ending Things (Long Drabble) Author's Note: Oh this one hurt to write. And I'm not gonna lie - it's going to keep getting worse from here Warnings: MDNI, Angst

After that one night you over did it at the bar, you woke up, hungover and worried that you had done something stupid in front of the 141. But it seemed like things were fine as everything went on as usual the next few weeks. If anything you assumed something happened between them as you sensed some weird tension among them. But you weren't worried, they're the 141. They'll figure it out.

And it seems like they did after that random meeting in Price's office. But as they returned to normal, your relationship with everyone shifted.

It's like these last few months of camaraderie just disappeared. No more "good mornings", "how are you", "any plans tonight" - nothing of the sort. Instead, it's just commands, orders, and the occasional question about intel and reports, but overall nothing too comfortable. Confused by the sudden switch up, you decide to reach out first and figure out what happened.

If you had done something, then the least they can do is be mature about it and tell you. Because that's what teams do.

So with some recently dropped intel, you knock on Soap's door. After hearing him say enter, you walk in and take note of how the sergeant faltered, surprised to see you in his office.

"Hey Johnny-boy, I was wondering if you could help me go through some files we just got?" This was y'all's thing. He's never turned you down before so in your mind, this was foolproof. Or at least, you thought it was.

"If you can't handle some measly reports, you should probably re-evaluate your career choices. I can't always hold your hand when things get hard. I got my own work to do, you know?," he says, eyes still on his paperwork. Annoyance clear in his voice.

Your mouth runs dry. You try to save face and explain that you just value his insight on things. Your face heats up when he looks at you with the most unimpressed eyes. You apologize for wasting his time and quickly leave his office, feeling embarrassed by the interaction.

What you don't see is the way the Scotsman winced when he sees his door close, knowing that you left feeling like a fool.

Things with Soap did not go well, but you try not to dwell too much on his words. You knew that he had his days so if anything, you probably just picked a bad one.

So that's why you approach Kyle next as he always kept his cool when things were rough. If you anyone would listen to you, it would be Kyle. So the next day, you head to his office, lunch in hand, excited to catch up with the sergeant.

Seeing his door open, you stop at the entrance and knock on the door frame. He glances up and asks if you needed anything.

"No, just wanted to check up on you. Maybe see if you had any ideas you wanted to work through before the meeting," you chirp, eyes beaming with joy. Kyle usually workshopped his ideas with you before suggesting them to the team. But it's been awhile. He's probably been busy with reports and all that.

"With you? Not really."

"Oh, I just thought, you know since you usually--"

"Yeah, I know, but honestly what's the point? You've never been out in the field so what would you know?" He shrugs with that last phrase.

While he had somewhat of a point, that didn't mean you were completely useless. The last few months should speak on that. You try to push back, but he doesn't bother to look at you. Realizing he wasn't going to listen, you leave.

But, Gaz does listen. He hears how your steps get further and further away until he hears the distinct sound of your office door closing.

Okay, things weren't looking great. But if there was one constant in your life, it was Ghost. Despite his prickly exterior, you knew he was a softie at heart.

So you look for him at the base's gym, instead of his office, knowing that he was probably getting some reps in during his break. And just like you predicted, you found Ghost at the bench press with some rookies that liked to test your boundaries. But with Ghost nearby, you knew you'd be safe. Now with a gift in hand, you stand in front of the Lieutenant and wait for him to finish.

After a few minutes, he sits up and questions your presence, adding that he didn't think pencil pushers like yourself went to the gym. Ouch, that was uncalled for, but this was part of his shtick... right?

"Good to see you too, Ghost" you quip. He doesn't react. You falter a bit, but you quickly regained your composure. This was Ghost who you were talking to, he wouldn't hurt you. "Remember the other day when you were complaining about the calluses on your hands? Well, I got you some new gloves to see if they could help," you proudly announce as you drop the bag in his lap.

He carefully opens the bag and takes out the gloves. This had to do it. He's probably going to say thank you, maybe even ask you how you been. And that's your way in.

Or it would have been if the sound of fabric tearing didn't fill the air. Right before your eyes, Ghost was tearing a glove right through the middle. He stands up and towers over you, throwing your gift to the ground.

"Honestly if you spent even half of this energy in your actual work, maybe you'd be worth keeping," he spits. You hear the nearby rookies snicker. After staring you down for a few more seconds, he lays back down and starts another set. You don't bother saying anything as the lump in your throat threatens to give you away. You walk out of the gym, shame filling your core.

But with tears blurring your eyes, you fail to notice Ghost quickly grabbing the gloves off the floor.

And now with three failed attempts in figuring out what's wrong, Price calls you into his office for a check-in. During these check-ins, he'd ask you if everything was going well with the team. You really wanted to avoid inconveniencing him with such a trivial matter, but the other three left you with no choice.

You walk into his office, determined for answers. Or at least, were until he asked you to close the door behind him, an action only reserved for when the conversation was serious. After shutting the door, you take a seat, nervous as his usually friendly eyes aren't there to greet you.

With a cold gaze, Price looks you over and begins. "Look, I'm not going to beat around the bush here. Your work on the team has been decent at best." Decent? "It's clear that you're more interested in harassing my men than working alongside them." Harassing? "So if you're actually serious about your future here, I'd recommend you get your priorities straight. Do I make myself clear?"

You sat there dumbfounded. How did you get here? Just a few weeks ago, you were confident in your place on the team, and now you're at risk of losing everything you worked for. How? What caused this sudden-- oh.

The night at the bar. The night you can't remember. You probably crossed a line and despite their best efforts to ignore it, they just couldn't. Whatever you did, it must have been bad, because why else would they switch up on you like this? You obviously messed up.

That's why at the next team meeting, you ask Price if you could say a couple of words. Realizing the second chance they were gifting you, you decide to apologize for your inadequacies, for ever making them uncomfortable, and for overall failing them as a teammate when they never once failed you. With that, you promise to do better from here on out.

You leave that meeting determined to prove yourself once again to the team. While Johnny, Kyle, Ghost, and Price leave feeling horrible for making you feel like the monster here.

But that's what best for the team... right?

Word Count: 1371

More Thoughts - Next Thought

#141 x reader #cod x poc!reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #john price x reader #kyle gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #cod angst #tf 141 x reader

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cordeliawhohung · 10 months

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a dad!simon scenario that @ghostslillady planted in my head awhile back that i can't stop thinking about and figured i'd share with you guys <3

dad!simon gives you twin boys and they are an utter handful. from the very moment they're born, they're getting into trouble, but it's nothing simon can't handle. it's not uncommon to see him holding both boys at once, as they fit perfectly in his arms. and god, you almost give him another child the first time you see him do this. the way he does it so effortlessly, how he quietly mumbles his thoughts to them as he goes about his day, turns you on in a way you don't think you could ever admit to him.

dad!simon insists on putting the boys into football the moment they're old enough. at first you were worried about them getting hurt, as they're toddlers after all, but when you see them running around on the field, their cleats slightly too big and their shin guards slipping with every step, you can't help but coo about how adorable they are.

dad!simon, on the other hand, doesn't coo at them. he's shouting, cheering, clapping his hands every time one of them scores a goal. you're certain he intimidates the other parents, but no one dares to tell him to quiet it down. every time they win a game, simon lifts both boys onto his shoulders and parades them around the field until their stomachs hurt from giggling so hard. no matter if they win or lose, he always treats the whole family to dinner or lunch after the games, because hard work should always be rewarded <3

dad!simon is a smart man, but the new methods of doing simple elementary level math dumbfounds this man. "why do all those fancy steps?" he asks, eyebrows furrowed. "it's how the teacher showed us," one of them responds. "goddamn waste of paper, that way," he curses. you make sure to have a talk with him about how often he uses "foul language" around the boys. you're honestly surprised their first words weren't "fuck" or "shit."

dad!simon gets you pregnant again by the time the boys turn four, and honestly you were surprised it didn't happen sooner. this pregnancy is much easier to deal with as it's not twins, and the two of you are pleased to find out its a girl. when she's born, simon holds her like she's the most precious thing in the world, and your boys are just as gentle with her. taking turns holding her with your supervision, placing kisses on top of her head just like they saw their daddy do.

dad!simon and you go to every single one of her dance recitals the moment she's old enough to be enrolled. she stumbles across the stage with the grace of a newborn fawn, and yet simon and the boys are clapping and whistling the loudest out of anyone in the crowd. he buys her flowers, which the boys end up stealing in order to give to her themselves.

dad!simon gave your boys his height, and they make sure to bring it up at any possible opportunity. always putting things too high up on the shelves, or leaning their elbows on top of your head. they've also picked up on simon's dry humor, and dinner time conversation is usually filled with a myriad of terrible puns and anti-jokes that leaves you rubbing your face and groaning. it only gets worse when your daughter joins in.

dad!simon and you worry a little bit about your kids as they get old enough to date. especially your daughter, who's too kind and sweet for her own good. so when the two of you get called to the school one day because the boys got into a fist fight with some other kid, neither of you were exactly surprised. figuring they had been fighting over some girl, you were taken aback to hear that they threw punches because of something someone said about their sister. "he called her a cunt because she wouldn't go out with him!" one of them exclaims, causing the teacher to gasp at such a vile word. "no one calls our sister that and gets away with it," the other one finishes. that was all simon needed to hear in order to excuse their behavior. he buys them the new video game they've been begging you get them as a prize. "good behavior should be rewarded," he says to you with a slight smirk.

dad!simon doesn't tone down his affection when you're around the kids. of course he's not doing anything grossly inappropriate, but he doesn't hide the quick kisses he gives you, and he's always surprising you with hugs from behind while you're chatting with the kids or making dinner. always giving you gifts, to his beautiful wife who gave him such an amazing family. and this rubs off on your children. the boys always treat their partners with the utmost respect, and your daughter knows not to take any shit from anyone who would make her feel smaller for being a girl.

dad!simon and you watch as your children grow up into amazing people, taking the world head on by themselves. he forever thanks you for giving him everything he could have ever asked for, something he thought would be forever out of his reach. and there's something a little bittersweet about the fact that they're no longer living at home with you, having become full grown adults with their own lives to live, but the cycle begins all over again by the time your first grandchild is born <3

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #dad!ghost #dad!simon riley x reader #dad!simon

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ginevrapng · 1 year

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studying with your boyfriend is something you love but also hate. he's a great teacher and explains everything that you don't understand or that professors haven't explained to you the right way for you to understand but you also don't like studying with neville because he's so hot when he's tutoring you that it's distracting.

the whole time neville will be trying to help you with your exam next week you'll be wanting to snog him and find a quiet and dark place in the library to suck his dick.

"are you listening flower?" he asks when you haven't made any input to the conversation. honestly you're not, you're watching the way his eyebrows furrow as he crosses out a misspelling and how he's rolled his jumper up to his forearms. his lip is slightly jutting out and you want to reach over to him and grab his face and kiss him until you're both dizzy.

he looks over to you to see you staring at his lips and smirks. he knows that look on you well. "not now petal, we've got to get this all done," he tells you softly but sternly.

you really should listen, you know he's right but you can't pay attention when he's looking so attractive. "nev please, i need you so bad," you whine, hoping he'll give in and forget about the exam in favour of making out with you.

neville looks back up from his work to you and sighs starting to get exasperated with those puppy dog eyes and pleading words. "i said no."

some people in gryffindor still think of neville as this clumsy, shy and timid boy but he's changed, so when your boyfriend talks like that it's hard to go against him so you shut your mouth, at least for awhile.

neville sees your antsy behaviour and distracted self and decides to do something about it. "you're so needy petal, can't even spend a few hours concentrating without you trying to fuck me."

you pout at him, not realising that you weren't being convincing after he told you to start studying again. "i didn't do anything neville, promise," you say while looking down and playing with the hem of your skirt.

neville follows your eyes and then gets an idea on how to handle his girlfriend. "petal sit on my thigh."

your eyes widen in realisation. "neville we can't do that, not here," you whisper. whipping your head around the library you see that you're the only ones around and you are also in the back of the library but you still believe it to be to dangerous.

"thought you said you were needy?" you bit your lip in thought, he knows what you'll do. "haven't got all day flower." after that you slide out of your chair and stand in front of neville silently asking him where he wants you to sit. "come on, so you're facing me." you shyly nod your head and rest on his thigh.

neville places a delicate kiss on your temple and speaks lowly into your ear, "love you flower." at the same time he grabs hold of your soft hips and starts to drag your body against his thigh.

as you move more against neville's thigh you know that your knickers are getting wetter and they'll probably be a stain on his trousers if this goes on for long.

neville chose this so he could keep working if necessary but he's forgotten all about it. he can't help but drop everything to focus all his attention on you, it's impossible for him not to. he adores you and right now he's getting incredibly hard after hearing your small panting and feeling your doughy skin underneath his big palms. neville simply doesn't know where to look, at your quickly rising and falling chest that's pressed against him or your plush thighs that he can see now that your skirt has ridden up higher or your cute face scrunched up in pleasure.

you've wrapped your arms around neville's neck and you bury your face into his chest every time you feel a particularly loud moan about to leave your mouth. neville pushes some of your hair out of your face as you're beginning to get sweaty and kisses you all over your face.

his trousers get tighter and you increase your pace with the help and guidance of neville. your clit gets pressed against him constantly with the friction and you're losing all sense of how to talk. "nev, plea-, i- i feels s'good," you whine.

neville smirks, his whole confident aura is making you fuzzy. "alright petal, i've got you. hold on tightly to my neck." you nod frantically and hold on tighter. he sinks his fingers even deeper into your plush body, definitely leaving bruises. he flexes his thigh again, angles your body in the right way so that every time you move your clit gets stimulation and starts to move your body up and down, completely controlling your pace.

it's been a couple minutes as you start to form a new sentence "neville, i-"

neville already knows you're about to finish, you started clawing his neck and biting your lip harder trying to stifle any noise. "come f'me petal." you do, the coil building inside of you snaps and you see white. neville shoves his tongue in your mouth and kisses you, muffling your moan. your body shivers and you push your body up against his even more.

you take a couple minutes to breathe and afterwards shakily get off of neville. he holds onto your wrist to stabilise you and groans as he sees the aftermath you've left on his trousers. he takes a glance at the table with all your books on and mumbles 'fuck it' and starts shoving both of your work into his bag. neville's heart melts as he looks up to your cute confused face. "let's head back to my room petal." your face lights up as you remove your wrist from his hand and intertwine your fingers together, you start swinging both your hands as you walk out the library.

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a-hazbin-reader · 8 months

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Hehehehe what about Vox and a fem!S/O that makes it a habit to fluster him or smother his techy butt in affection? I really just wanna take care of this stressed and overworked man whdiskansoskns-

Oh I suppose we can throw him a bone~

Vox X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: None I think??

Description: ☝️⬆️

Vox is probably the most stressed out of all the V's, not necessarily because of his workload but because of his temperament

A lot of little things get to him even though he tries not to show it

So he really appreciates having you as his S/O, especially on those days where he's losing his shit, because your affectionate nature helps him focus on something else

On those days, you manage to get him to lay down and accept a back massage from you, and you only tickle his sides a little

You couldn't help it

Sometimes, he actually falls asleep only to wake up to you lying on top of him, arms wrapped around his chest

Or you kiss the side of his screen and hug his neck while he vents to you, holding you securely in his lap

He doesn't want solutions, he just wants you to listen and keep cooing at him like you agree with him

Sometimes all he needs is just a hug from his favorite person in the world and you are more than willing to give it

He could die happy wrapped in your arms and breathing in your scent, your fingers gently caressing the edges of his screen

He loves how affectionate you are with him, knows that he would probably been driven mad by now if it weren't for you in his life

But if you do it in public or around the V's?? He's absolutely mortified and will actually just fizzle out right then and there

Not that you care, you'll take care of him

He's on tv doing his show? No matter, you blow him kisses from behind the camera until he's too flustered to go on, ending it earlier so he can go to you

Definitely doesn't cash in on all those smooches you were blowing his way

Not you interrupting a meeting with the V's because he forgot his phone, you practically demanding a kiss goodbye before you go

"Y/N, we're in a meeting I can't just-"

"I won't leave without a proper kiss!"

Smooch

Not Valentino hooting and hollering at you two as you grip onto your mans and really kiss him

Vox is so dazed by the time you scamper off, flopping back into his chair and hardly registering anything being said

...he definitely had his phone in his pocket before he left...he just didn't check after you pulled him in for a hug...

Did you pickpocket him just to kiss him at work!? In front of his friends!?

And now his screen went dark

The two of you are going out somewhere? You insist on holding his hand and kissing it at every opportunity, gazing up at him innocently

He chokes on his own spit

Even when you aren't awake you're so affectionate

Vox tries to get out of bed and get an early start on the day? Not unless he's taking you with him, your sleepy arms wrapped around him like a vice

More often than not, Vox is seen carrying you around while he sips his coffee, you peacefully dozing against him

You always rub your face on him, practically purring in your sleep because you're so content to snuggle him

He's blushing the entire time while trying to keep a neutral or annoyed look on his face, sipping his drink while scrolling through the news

If anybody mentions it then they're fired

If you ever wear lipstick or anything like that? You bet Vox is stumbling out of closets and rooms covered in kiss marks, blushing furiously

You look so innocent when you step out behind him, like you didn't nearly take his soul

Don't worry, you'll clean him up~

You give him affection and love so freely that it's difficult for him not to be embarrassed, not used to such a thing

He does try to reciprocate but it's not nearly as easy for him as it is for you, but he wants you to know he feels the same

So every once in awhile when you two are alone, he'll pull you into his lap and kiss the back of your neck in an attempt to hide his blush

"You know I'd be so lost without you, right?"

Now he's just asking for you to kiss him until he's begging for mercy

"Y/N W-WAIT!"

I had a lot of fun with this one! I hope it was okay!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #vox hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin x reader #vox x reader

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sunrisesfromthewest · 3 months

Note

how would armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she He doesn't look at him the same way, but he wants her for himself and he won't stop until he has her

New follower 💗✨🌷

Headcanons with are boy Armando✨✨

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Summary: Armando really likes you to the point where he’s in love with you (secretly), but you won’t give him the time in a day. Knowing Armando that definitely wouldn’t stop him from trying to pursue you tho.

__________________________________________

[👀First time seeing you]:

* Armando was probably with his Dad and Marcus when he spotted you,since he tends to be more aware of his surroundings then most.As he watch you interact with the Ammo Squad,he nods his head in your directions asking who you were.

* After hearing his Dad say “Y/N”,he tunes the rest of his fathers voice out.Letting the name play on his tongue a bit,to commit it to memory.He glances back at you with a determined look,smiling internally.

* After awhile of being around him you would catch him staring but choose to ignore it,after hearing about his background.

* Armando seemed to pick up on this after he would try to catch your attention or hold a small conversation.Which would frustrate him slightly but not waver his determine mind.

[👩🏿‍💻Being around each other at the station]:

* Not really being able to ignore him,since it seems like every corner you turn he’s there,you would start greeting him,giving him a light smile every now and then.

* Unbeknownst to you,he already figured out your office routes(But you don’t need to know that🙃) I could definitely see him cherishing each little interaction he has with you.Probably mentally keeping a tally mark on how many times,you look,talk,smiled or even walked pass him in a day.(He’s down bad😭)

* Then you’ll start to notice things going missing on your desk like your favorite pens,or small personal items that you had.Only for them to end up in a place you know for sure wasn’t there before.

* Confused you would ask around only to get I don’t know expression back from your colleagues.

* Giving a glance at Armando you asked if he seen your missing items,he would look up at you and hold eye contact for a minute before giving a firm shake of the head;indicating that he hasn’t seen it.(When he knows damn well he has.✌️)

* He would for sure sit on your desk trying to spit game but you just raise a eyebrow and tell him to get loss.Ignoring you he would continue to bother you until,you see him sneak something in his pocket.”Did you just—-“but before you could question him he’s already walking away with a smirk.

[🤺🤺During a mission]:

* Best believe if someone offers to be your partner on a job.He would send them death glares or he would definitely pull them aside and give them a little ‘talk’.(This man crazy about his baby☺️)

* The whole time you two are partnered up you think it’s his Father trying to get you to befriend Armando but Mike is not even aware on how much his son likes (Loves)you.He just know that your a good duo.

* Before doing a job his eyes always scan over your uniform making sure that you’re fully protected,oh and he’s definitely checked your weapons to make sure they function correctly.

(so girl you good to go 👍)

* Armando would unconsciously take the lead when entering a room,pulling you behind him as he scanned the area.Also,low key taking advantage of touching you but he not slick you pick up on what he was doing.But choosing not to comment on it since your focused on the mission.

* If you get caught in a crossfire,just know he’s already shooting at the suspect while making his way to you before anyone else does.Hands and eyes running over your form to make sure you’re okay.

[🤭More interaction and after work Hangouts]:

* After Armando saved you,you start to talk with him more,which had this man ready to pounce on you.Bringing him drinks or snacks whenever you stopped by a convenient store made him become,more obsessed with you.

(Cause Based off the third movie,I know he needs some affection and light pampering😌)

* He’ll definitely start making his attraction move obvious:grabbing your waist if he needs you to move or to grabs something by you,asking if you’ll be free to hangout,saying little pet names like mama,baby or angel every chance he got.

* If your out with the squad,he would probably be mean mugging the whole time,until he sees you,his expression wouldn’t change but if you look closely you’ll notice how his eyes light up.

* He’ll more than likely linger around you wanting to stay close but not making it to obvious.(It’s definitely obvious😂)Staring straight at you he’ll try to make his moves again but you just smile and shake your head.

* As the night goes on he starts to get more restless and just a little bit annoyed,as you continue to ignore his advances.Having enough he pulls you aside and ask why your not giving him the time in a day.

* Shrugging you say”I’m just not interested,”while taking a sip of your drink.Stepping forward he whispers,”I can change that mamá,”grabbing your hand he gives it a light squeeze. “Come on,give me a chance baby.”(Oh,girl I would’ve caved in😳😳😳)

* Watching him give you a teasing smirk,you smile back,raising your right hand to his chin,bringing him forward.Thinking your about to kiss him he closes his eyes leaning forward to close the gap,only for you to bring a finger to his lips and say Nope.Opening his eyes he looks down at you with longing,but you only smile and make your way back to the others,swaying your hips.(Girl you ain’t slick🤨)

* Watching you walk away as if you put him in a trance he whispers,”No corras bebé, recién estamos comenzando.(Don't run baby, we're just getting started)”he says with an predatory gaze.

(Went from Confessing to Obessing🫣)

Part 3 of First Encounter might not get posted until tomorrow but we’ll see,Thank y’all for the love💓💓💓💓

#armando aretas x black reader #armando aretas #armando #jacob scipio #new writers on tumblr #x reader #armando armas #mike lowrey #bad boys ride or die #bad boys #headcanon #will smith #martin lawrence

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lorelune · 8 months

Text

bathtime

|| blade x reader || M || captive reader x necrobiome blade || wc: 5.1k || ao3 || previous + next ->

Even the best bath water will find it difficult to cleanse 'sin'.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

notes: well hello :3c welcome to part 3 of the architect-verse :3cc been cooking on this one for awhile 🙏 yandere blade is such a guy and scummy manipulative mommy kafka is so fun to write :3ccc thank you for beloved @ofmermaidstories for doing a read through on this one 🥺♥!! enjoy enjoy enjoy 💓

CW: dark content, yandere blade, captive/pet reader, discussions of noncon, references to past noncon on blade while he was underage and as an adult, references to past noncon on reader, use of the word rape, violence/thoughts of violence, past yingxing/dan feng, toxic blade/kafka

It’s normal for Blade to return to the Stellaron Hunters’ main vessel covered in assorted types of gore. Scraps of rent flesh, smears of blood, bile, scales— tendons and sinew wrapped under his forearms, clinging from the pressure of impact light-years away. The smell of it clings to him, still fresh, just barely beginning to rot. He stews in it during his typical return in small, covert starships. He half-suffocates with the stench of death.

This is typical. Blade does not carry any opinion about it. If anything, he welcomes the potential of asphyxiation, though it never comes.

Most routinely, Kafka will greet him as he returns and take him to clean up. Occasionally, when she is indisposed, Silver Wolf will be forced to hose him down in the communal gym shower or Sam will dunk him in the bath by the scruff of his neck. Blade does not... particularly enjoy the latter two options. Though he isn't sure entirely why, and he doesn't tend to dwell on it either.

When Kafka collects him, it is easier, if nothing else. Less fuss, less grimacing over the smell of burgeoning rot and complaining that Blade should do this prior to arriving home. Blade doesn't care about the other Stellaron Hunters’ complaints, not really, but it does make the ordeal longer than it needs to be.

(And maybe, maybe, he does not like being drenched in bone-chilling water and soaked clothing. He hates it.)

Kafka will lead Blade back to her own room, strip him, and give him a warm bath. Frequently, she’ll take off her own clothing and join him. She’ll hold him close, his back to her front. Kafka likes when she is able to cow him into resting against her front, cow him into resting his cheek against her breasts while she scrubs away the worst of the grime.

Never mind that they share the same, red-tinged bathwater.

(Occasionally, things escalate. Touch that volleys between innocent and clinical and sexual. Kafka will stroke down the planes of his body, reach for his cock, and bring him to release. It’s— it's nice. He thinks. He can't tell.)

It's hard to tell anything in the steam of the bath. Though Kafka's presence renders his mara mute, proximity makes it writhe regardless. It is not a soundless beast, though it loses its words. Muddy feelings, rather than anything clear cut. It's a reprieve regardless.

This is why Blade prefers to be cleaned by Kafka.

...

This mission, however, Blade receives a text from Kafka during his return journey that she will be out. Along with Silver Wolf. And that Sam is charging and shouldn't be disturbed.

However—

Kafka:

why don't you see if our little stray is up for a bath, bladie?

There's a thought. One Blade hadn't considered.

(There's a whisper of a refusal in the back of his mind. 'No'. Blade is not sure why. It is quiet but sure of itself.)

Blade:

When will you be back.

Kafka:

tomorrow. don't wait up until then. listen, just ask.

Kafka's mind weaving does not work over text. But it is, regardless, difficult to resist her command. This is habit.

Blade idles outside of your room. He has dripped mess across the vessel and left little piles of flesh and muscle in his wake. The quiet sound of blood splattering against the floor (his, maybe, though his regeneration should be almost complete) makes him aware of this.

It feels uncouth to enter your room like this.

Blade shakes himself off and leaks scarlet droplets against the metal paneling. methodically, he releases the five locks on your door. Each clicks when fully disarmed, and by the time Blade enters, you're already looking up at the door, eyes wide.

You're tucked into bed with a soft blanket over your lap. A tablet (a gift from silver wolf at Kafka's behest. For 'good behavior'. Not connected to any internet, but you've told Blade it helps pass the time.)

The device is promptly forgotten as you push yourself out of bed, "Aeons, Blade, what happened? Are you hurt?"

You approach him with no caution. It's reckless. It's foolish, especially with this much adrenaline tumbling around between his eyes and in his veins. He has the distinct urge to shove you away and into the floor. Compress you until you break and bleed and bleed and break.

Blade does not.

Instead, he lets you flit around him. He lets you draw your own conclusions.

You are not foolish. You know he is dangerous; he knows you know this. It is your... good nature that creases the surely-soft skin between your brows. It's your kindness that has you frazzled, shaking in your hands as you hover over him. Searching for wounds that are mostly healed.

"Blade, I said, are you hurt?" You ask, voice strained, bent at the waist while examining a slice in his pants. A lance had torn his calve wide open. It has already healed.

"I'm fine."

"Sure." You don't sound convinced, frowning. "You look like shit. Am I really supposed to believe that?"

"I have already healed. my injuries are no longer a concern."

"... Really?"

"I am an abomination of Yaoshi. This is my nature."

You already know this, yet you look defeated. Your jaw is tight. "Uh-huh. Alright. Fuck, do you feel alright?"

"I'm fine. I need to be clean."

"... Alright?"

"I need to bathe."

"... I see that... Do you want me to call Kafka?"

"She's off ship."

"Oh, fuck." you curse and shake your head. "I-is she going to be back soon?"

"No. Help me instead."

"M-me?" Your voice trembles and you take a fearful step back. Ever the skittish thing. something in him— sort of him— vibrates.

"Yes."

"Can you— not?"

"It's cumbersome to wash on my own."

"I see." You run a hand over your cheeks and adjust the wide collar of your shirt. It’s too big. It’s one of his— probably? A sleep shirt. One that Kafka stole from him to give to you. He knows you own several. "Alright. Okay. Fine. Fuck, I-I can help."

You shoo him into your bathroom.

You turn away from him almost immediately, poking around in a cabinet, plucking brightly colored products and muttering under your breath. Kafka mentioned that isolation is getting to you more than you think. She thinks it's cute.

Blade wordlessly begins to strip. First off is his blood-soaked overcoat, shredded around his ribs and with massive gouges taken out of the back. Then his undershirt. Followed by his pants. One of his belts rings a metallic clink as he undoes it.

You choose this moment to turn around and your eyes go wide.

"BLADE!" You cover your eyes, dropping a bottle. "What are you— you can't just do that."

"Do what?"

"Get... naked?"

"You are going to help me bathe. This is necessary."

"I understand that." You sound exasperated. Your voice is shaky. The tone is pulling something in the back of his mind. The corners of his lips almost want to curl upwards. "But you can't just strip without warning. Aeons, have some manners."

Blade nearly laughs— good-naturedly. The urge to is something dormant and poisonous. Seldom used. Usually it's a sharp impulse, but it's almost warm now. Tepid and pleasant.

(All for you.)

You cover your eyes as you fumble to turn on the tap, "At least go rinse off a little in the shower first, please?"

Doable, albeit difficult. Blade grunts something akin to an affirmative and finds your shower. He turns the water on (hot or cold doesn't seem... relevant) and steps in. The spray pours down from the ceiling, sending the worst of the gore down the drain.

Blade does not move for quite some time.

"Blade?" you ask warily. "You... done in there?"

It takes him a moment to reply. The cold spray lags him, "Yes."

"... Can you come out? The bath is ready."

He idles, thinking about your question. The softness of your voice. The candle that he can smell, lit on the countertop. You yourself, dressed in soft lounge clothes and covered in scars that strangers gave you. He thinks about the way skin and muscle rend under his blade. The way yours could. Under him. Under—

"Blade."

You open the glass shower door, worry-eyed.

He blinks at you.

Gently, you grab his arm. He flinches with it. Has half a mind to slam you into the tile until you pop like an perfectly ripe fruit—

But he doesn't.

"C’mon, bath time," you coax him out, dripping, careful to not look down. It’s a preservation of modesty. It feels useless, Blade thinks, as he pulls away to clamor into the bath.

... There are bubbles. Fragrant and herbal, with a soft oil shimmering on the top of the water. It is the perfect temperature. It feels... good. He forgets how nice warmth is. He softens. You heave out a sigh and settle next to him, outside the bath. There's a dampened washcloth, already in your hand.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" You ask.

"I don't care."

"Give me a yes or a no,” you press him, glaring a little. You roll up your sleeves and rise to your knees.

"Yes, then." He does not care. Do you not understand?

(You probably don't. You definitely don't.)

Your expression is unreadable as you dunk the rag into the bathwater and begin to wash him. First his right arm, then his left. Gently rubbing him down, taking extra care with his hands. The rag is gentle over his stiff fingers. You check under each of his nails individually.

You’re meticulous.

You ask a question or two about how he washes himself, specifically his hair, but Blade can't give you answers. Kafka stocks his bathroom. His bottles are numbered, and he never deviates from their preassigned order. It is easier that way. Even in Kafka’s tub, she tends to use the same order of expensive-looking products that she favors.

The treatment you’re currently giving him is not routine.

The ends of your sleeves dip into the water as you stretch over the tub, toward his legs. Your tongue peaks out from your lips, bitten in concentration. (It’s cute.) Blade feels... compelled to assist you. He raises his leg up at the knee. Just as carefully, you scrub him down, and then focus on his other leg.

The experience fills him with a sense of unease.

(It’s too tender.)

(You treat him too delicately. Even Kafka acknowledges the damage he carries, and her touch is only gentle to punctuate a roughness later on. She toys with him— it’s a farce. The way you touch him is too kind. You are too kind for him. It reminds him— makes him feel the ghost of a touch from hands more delicate and powerful than your own. From a different lifetime, blotted by Mara, corrupted and molten in his mind—)

“Blade—?” Your voice is shaking, shattering. You’re frozen at the side of the tub.

Blade blinks.

He has his hand wrapped around your wrist; his grip swallowing the fragile limb. The force of it is bruising. He holds it under the water, forcing you to lean over the tub. You are submerged up to your elbow. Your expression is pinched, afraid. Your pupils pinpricked.

An animal snared.

His grip tightens.

“Let go, please.” You ask, lip wobbling.

He does not want to let go. He really does not want to let go. Blade cannot trace the feeling, it’s miasmatic. It was a bad idea to have you assist in bathing him. Mara webs itself behind his eyes. His jaw locks and breathes hard through his nose. He wants to sink his teeth into your throat.

“Please, stop,” You whine— whimper while tugging against his hold. You are half bent over the bath. Your eyes water, all shiny.

The tone does something to him. Many people plead around him— for their life, mercy, favor. It’s useless. He does not care. He has no reason to care. There are scripts to follow. However— there’s no script here. Just the warm suds, the blood pumping through your veins, and Blade’s tunneling vision.

With a sharp pull, he drags you into the bath.

You fall in headfirst. Instantly, you clamor at the side of the tub and his submerged legs to get yourself back above water. You scramble. It’s— cute. Your hair is slicked down around your face and forehead, eyes wide as you pant. His legs bracket your body. He tightens his thighs around you.

Your thin clothes are soaked and cling to you. Fabric over curves and folds over your flesh. Blade’s half-hard and feels bad about it.

(He can’t trace why. It’s far from the first time he’s been physically aroused in relation to you. It always makes him feel bad. Not with Mara, but something personal and sour and less mad. He hates it. He’s almost torn out a rib over the feeling.)

You hover, frozen, between his legs. The only sounds in the bathroom are your panting breaths and the drips rolling off your body, into the bathwater. You swallow, trembling, but remaining otherwise unmoving. It occurs to Blade after a few tense moments that you are waiting for him to strike.

Always like a little, frightened animal.

(Something in him writhes.)

He moves quickly, shooting a hand out to fist into your hair. His grip is unyielding, giving you no slack (though, he doesn’t yank and pull as he could. He could tear out chunks if he wanted. He just doesn’t want you to move.) He wants you closer— maybe. He wants you far away, thrown through one of the ship's thick windows and into the vacuum of space and dead.

(Though, it wouldn’t be as satisfying for the void of space to kill you. He’d rather do it. He wants to do it, if you’re going to die.)

You whine and paw at his wrists, babbling something.

Blade feels disgusting as he drags your body to his, his chest to your back, and he curls over your form. His arms wind around your waist and squeeze. You scratch at him, beg maybe— he can’t tell, his ears are ringing. Your fists that slam into his shoulders and skull feel like swats from a declawed kitten. He doesn’t budge despite your protests.

You stop fighting when you realize he isn’t hurting you.

Blade doesn’t... want to hurt you. He thinks. Not really. Not in the way that Mara is screaming at him to. He isn’t content, you’re too warm and too alive to be this close to his body, but it's not bad. Contact both scratches an itch under his skin and aggravates a wound. It’s like a bath with Kafka, but worse—

(Because part of him wants this.)

Blade flinches when you go slack against him, chest heaving out breath. Even this little ‘scrap’ has tired you out. You’ve become weakened in your confined state— even if you really wanted to fight him, you don’t have the physical strength to be able to.

You sniffle, covered in soaked clothes and soap suds.

“Don’t cry.” Blade says without thinking. His voice is shot, dead-pan.

Trembling, you shake your head, “I w-won’t.”

It’s a lie. You’re already shaking in his arms.

It’s— unfair. You’re most used to him, and less wary of him than Kafka. Part of him, a loud but small part of his mind, thinks that a bath together could be enjoyable— if he wasn’t washing blood and filth from his hair, and you weren’t shivering in your soaked day clothes.

(‘This could be nice’, it urges.)

His hands rub over your sides in small circles at the idea.

You gasp and squirm, looking back at him with wild eyes, “Blade, please—”

He stops, but his hold around your waist doesn’t waver. You sigh and lean back into his chest, deflating. Your eyes go half-lidded as you look toward the ceiling. They look— dull. Light and life drained. Like how they did when he and Kafka first collected you from that gilded planet.

Blade knows that look— a dull mind and an active body. Your breath is still a bit too fast. Your heart is the same, running a prey-like rhythm. He assumes that you have left your body, gone elsewhere.

“Hey.” He shakes you lightly, dragging you back to the cooling bath. “Help with my hair.”

“... Hair?” You ask, voice soft and dreamy. “... Do you need me to wash it?”

“Yes.”

“... Okay.” You nod after a moment and rotate in his lap.

Your shoulders sag forward as you fumble for shampoo and squirt a generous amount into your palm. Half of it misses and the gel sinks into the bathwater below.

It’s unfair— part of him says again— he wants to tear it out and shred it between his teeth or under his blade. It screams that it's unfair that you dote on a creature like him. It’s unfair that you must shiver while lathering and rinsing his hair. That your pretty lips tremble with fear.

The Mara writhes. He has not been human in so long. He does not deserve the gentleness you so often give him. Especially now, when he has dragged you closer, made you filthy with the stench of blood, and forced you so close. He wants to bite out your throat as you tip forward to grab a brightly colored bottle of oil and begin to work through the knots in his air.

You are frowning. You are crying.

He wants to eat you.

Blade reaches for your chest, studying the way that the fabric clings to your skin-gone-gooseflesh. He finds the top button of your soft blouse in his own unsteady hands and undoes it. You freeze when he does, breath catching.

You don’t breathe as he undoes another button.

Then another.

And another.

You don’t breathe until the garment is nearly off. Just one button secures the fabric. He can see the peak of your breasts under the fabric, nipples pebbled in the cold. You’re so cold.

(Blade wishes, dead Yingxing wishes, that he were warmer.)

Your hand shoots out and wraps around his wrist, and in a small voice, you beg, “Please, d-don’t.”

“You’re cold.” Blade says. He reaches past you, sloshing water, to turn on the spigot for hot water. “You will stay cold if you wear wet clothes.”

You look at him strangely. At first, it’s wounded. Like you’ve been lanced through with Shard Sword, and now bear the gaping wound. It morphs to one of confusion, then you bite your lip. And grab his hands in your own and stare at them.

“... That’s all?” You ask.

“Mostly.” Blade replies. There’s— more. Far more. But nothing that is concrete enough, or important enough, to share with you. It would more than likely aggravate his spitting Mara.

“Okay.” You reply, looking up from your joined hands. Your eyes are round and watery. “You’re not trying to rape me?”

He freezes.

The word ‘rape’ pulls something disgusting and festering up from Blade’s guts. Something he wants to purge. He has the distinct urge to lean over the side of the time and vomit, but he hasn’t eaten in the last forty-eight hours, so there’s nothing to heave up. So instead, he is still.

It’s like he can feel the rot. He’s not sure why. He knows what the word means, he is pretty sure he has been raped. Probably. Either when he was a young child, a refugee fleeing a massacred world, or maybe when he was the bedmate to a dragon. Maybe, probably, from Kafka, any number of times. Maybe last week. His mind is cloudy.

What constitutes rape is foggy.

He knows it would mean that he wants to have sex with you, and you wouldn’t want to have sex with him.

And Blade—

(He— He— doesn’t want to have sex with you? Or he does. Maybe. He wants to be close to you, inside you. He wants to curl around you and make you swear to never leave. He wants— he wants so much. Blade is selfish. But—)

Not like that, he doesn’t think. Others have been, he’s sure— he’s sure.

Mara pours into his mind, and he remembers then. Pieces of times, fragments of old memories, of rape. Of violation of all kinds.

(At the hands of borisins holding him down as he screamed and cried, his body too little to do any fighting in the jaws of an Abundance beast.)

(A tradesman who allowed him to stowaway on a cargo ship, destined for the Luofu. ‘Payment’ — the man had called it. For safe passage and a little sack of rice.)

(Dan Feng, during one of his draconic ruts. He was the Child of a Cosmic Horror, ultimately. That’s all Aeons are, anyways. Yingxing had been split on his cock so many times, so full, he bled for a day, even with Dan Feng fussing over him with his cloudhymns, lucid-in-mind and torn apart by so much guilt for a wildly proud man.)

(Kafka, a few days after she first picked him up from the surface of the asteroid Jingliu had been beating him into. Kafka, a few weeks after that— in a hotel that stank of blue emory roses. Kafka, a few weeks ago, draped over his shoulders between missions. There’s more. Memories drenched in the smell of her rich perfume. They tangle in feelings of comfort and revulsion.)

Blade doesn’t want to do any of that to you.

(He wants something with you— but—)

(Not like that. He doesn’t want you to hurt.)

“I’m not going to rape you.” He tells you. He hardly sounds like himself as the Mara quiets.

He thumbs over your lips. There’s a scar in the middle of them where they had been split, repeatedly, and then healed over. You’d told him once that one of your old keepers used to deprive you of water if he felt like it. Your breath is hot against his fingertip.

You say nothing, but your breath is still fast and shaky. Your eyes are wide. A feral, wild animal.

“I’m not.” Blade tries to reassure you. You flinch with the sound of his voice. “You’re freezing. The bath can be refilled with warm water. Bathe.”

Tears break over your lower lashes as you stare at him. He stares back.

(He wonders what you’re thinking. If you have as much trouble thinking as he does— you probably do. You’ve sustained head trauma. Traumas. You’re both torn-up wrecks, maybe. It could provide him with some solace.)

“... Okay.” You rub your eyes with balled up hands and laugh. “Okay.”

Blade then helps you peel off your shirt. Then your shorts and underwear. When you’re bare, Blade drains most of the water from the, leaving you both with a layer of clinging bubbles protecting the barest bits of your modesty. You cover your chest and center with your hands, keeping your head down. Hiding your throat.

He refills the tub with more soap— too much probably. Mountains of bubbles appear as he dumps in a glug of shimmering, emerald-colored oil. It swirls into the water as it rises. You relax as it rises over your chest. Your eyelids droop. You look so tired.

Blade washes you like you did him.

You face each other as he does. Your gaze never leaves him, though it goes glassy again. Unfocused. Blade can feel your heartbeat through your skin, slowing more and more with each pass of the warm, soapy rag he is using. He massages products into your hair. He thinks that he may be doing so in the correct order. He hopes he is.

This close, he can see all of you. Most of you. Feel you too. He feels ridges and bumps of scars. Chunks of flesh that have been torn from you, replaced by cicatrix, uneven and unnatural under his touch. You shudder when he touches you, shivering despite the heat of the room. You’re sensitive. He doesn’t want Kafka to know.

You feel different like this. Blade is unable to place why.

When he is through with you, steam and bubbles still rising from the bath, you drag him closer. Your fingers dig into his biceps, latching on and scrambling to get closer.

“... You really mean it, don’t you?” You ask. Your eyes are still unfocused. “You’re not going to? You’re not fucking with me?”

“... What are you talking about?”

An unrestrained smile stretches over your face, “You do mean it. You do. You do.”

Blade can only guess what you mean. You clearly will not (or cannot) tell him. You shiver against a full body thing against him. It makes him uneasy. He flips you by the hips, so that your back is to his chest, and he can curl over your shoulders. He cast a shadow into the water.

Indulgently, he presses his nose into your cheek. You smell like fresh soap and skin. He thinks if he licked you, you’d taste like salt.

He doesn’t.

When that’s all he does, you laugh.

It’s a belting thing, the kind of sound that’s punched from your gut with the same force that could break ribs. Blade can imagine the sound and sensation of it obliterating your insides as your laughter bounces around the tile of the bathroom. It’s manic. It’s an unwell sound. You clutch a fist over your chest as you howl.

You don’t stop for a while.

It’s clearly too much. Blade can feel it. The sound echoes in his chest. It must be shredding yours.

His arm wraps around your midsection as you do, and he tries to press you closer— he thinks. He thinks it might help. Your breath starts to shake, each inhale pitching high and sharp. You’re hyperventilating around your laughter. You’re hysterical, but don’t fight his hold. Even as tears drip down your cheeks, splattering into the bathwater.

Blade says your name— it should come out sharply. He means it to.

However, it is gentle. His voice is hushed and rough.

“You’re alright.” He squeezes you until the breath is forced from your lungs, and there’s no fuel for your laughter anymore. “You’re okay.”

With a choked, quiet sob, you reply, “I know.”

...

It’s later— much later. Maybe the next day.

Your room still doesn’t have any way to keep time other than your little tablet, which has been powered off and charges across the room on top of your dresser, so Blade can only guess.

He lays beside you in bed, propped up on an elbow. You sleep next time to him, relaxed and soft-jawed. The soft duvet is pulled up to your collarbones, and you curl into Blade. He’s— warmer than the rest of your room. Even if he does run too cold to be properly alive.

He runs the side of his index finger over your face.

You had been so tired after leaving the bath, you’d hardly been able to dress yourself— you hadn’t been able to. Blade to pick out sleep clothes and help you get into them. He chose whatever he could find that seemed. Soft.

(A flowing, soft teal top and white shorts with golden thread sewn in the seams.)

You fell asleep quickly after that and have been ever since. Blade had only meant to sit on the edge of your mattress.

That did not happen.

Instead, he’s tucked next to you. One of your hands fists the front of his shirt, and your body is angled toward him. Seeking. Wanting.

Blade could take.

He recognizes that.

It’s a thought, though, not a temptation. Not after the bath. Not after feeling the ways in which your body has been torn apart and so painstakingly put itself back together. You are not a creature of Abundance, you are not built to live forever and to repair yourself endlessly like he is. Your vitality is finite. Every scar your flesh must restitch takes something from you and it will not be replaced.

You will end.

Your bedroom door clicks, five times, then opens with a whoosh of air. Kafka stands in the doorframe. A sickly-sweet smile stains her mouth. Her lipstick is the is freshly applied and glossy.

“I see you got all cleaned up, Bladie,” her voice is silken and smooth. He could drown in it. “Was our little pup helpful?”

“... Yes.”

“Good.” Kafka hums. Her heels click against the floor, and she takes a place next to you. Even as the mattress dips, you don’t stir. “You’re so helpful with training them. Good boy.”

Blade pauses his petting of you to glare and grunt at Kafka. She looks delighted.

“I wasn’t aware I was assisting with any sort of training.”

“It’s all implicit. As long as they’re getting comfortable, that’s what counts. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything else.”

Blade doesn’t like that answer.

“I don’t want to see them hurt,” Blade says.

“That’s sweet of you.”

“I mean it, Kafka.”

“I know, I know.” Kafka laughs. She sighs and falls into the bed, over the cushy duvet. She spoons you, flattening herself to your back and winding her arms around your waist. Your brow wrinkles and a little whimper scratches from your throat. “I’d like to see our new puppy kept in one piece too, Bladie. I’ve grown quite fond of them. However, we are both beholden to Destiny. If one of Elio’s scripts—”

“I know.” Blade snaps.

He does not want to think about it.

His hand that had been petting you winds tightly into your hair and your face scrunches up.

“Listen, Bladie, everything’s alright. You’re okay.” Kafka soothes, dropping a kiss onto your cheek. It leaves a smear. Kafka works Blade’s hand out of your hair. “Be good and keep them company while I give Elio a mission report.”

“That’s what I have been doing.”

“Then, keep it up.”

Kafka rolls out of bed with a sigh, not a hair out of place. She leaves the room almost soundlessly, the door clicking as it relocks. Five times.

Blade does as Kafka says. He keeps you company, sinking down into the mattress beside you. He wipes away the lipstick left over your cheek and presses a kiss to the spot. He lingers there.

Kafka can have— a lot of him. But, perhaps, he will covet you, all for himself.

(If the Mara in his mind had not been suppressed, perhaps he would have heard:

(FOOL FOOL FOOL! DO YOU NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU COVET AND CLING? DO NOT FORGET YOUR SINS! DO NOT FORGET HIS SINS—!)

Instead, his mind is quiet. He pulls you closer and sleeps. Space is dead around him, and you are dead to the world in his undying arms.

Blade thinks he likes when you bathe with him.

#lore writes #blade x reader #ren x reader #blade x you #hsr x reader #tw yandere #tw dark content #tw noncon #LETS GO!!!#PLEAAASE mind the tags but otherwise enjoy!!!

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zweiginator · 3 months

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bestfriend’s brother patrick….oh i fear i need more of this hehehe

im at your service

and just expanding on the previous ask.... patrick refuses to fuck you. is repeating it to himself like a mantra whenever he sees you.

dontdoitdontdoitdontdoit.

he keeps his promise for awhile. til the end of july. that's when his little sister and you bring over two guys for a movie night. seems innocent enough. patrick shouldn't care. he doesn't care.

he's just supervising. making sure these boys aren't creeps. watching over his little sister and her cute little best friend.

the boy you're with is putting his arm around you. moving his hands under the blanket. patrick kicks them out.

"i'm older and i'm in charge. i want them out. fucking weridos."

they listen to patrick immediately. he's pissed and he's way stronger and taller.

and you're mad because you only invited them over because patrick had been refusing to touch you since that night. you try and try and try to entice him, but nothing is working. you weren't meaning to make him jealous.

patrick's sister just goes to bed; the whole thing was your idea anyway. but you are mad.

patrick notices you look different.

"doing your makeup all slutty for some stupid boys?" he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. your red lip gloss stains his finger.

"don't call me that!" you yell, knowing he will tell you to shut up. maybe he'll make you.

"be quiet." he says it calmly. "i'm just saying. whoring yourself out is gonna put you down a bad path."

now he's just trying to piss you off. he knows you're smart and kind and respectable. you were a goody-two-shoes up until last year.

"you're the one always whoring yourself out--so far i've counted five girls this summer? no--six."

"very funny." he says, against the shell of your ear.

"why do you even care anyway?" you ask. patrick is leading you outside; he shuts the glass door behind you.

he knows this will do you in. push that final button. "you're like a little sister to me. just want what's best."

he knows you'll yell and huff and prove to him that no you're not. not at all.

he can always say you came onto him first. they wouldn't believe him, of course. not with his track record.

you start unbuttoning his shirt, clawing at him, pulling him in by the waistband. his sister's bedroom window faces the backyard.

"jesus fucking christ." he throws you over his shoulder, takes you to the pool shed.

he unties his shorts; he's still in those swim trunks of his that hug his thighs.

"i'll fuck you." he says. "i'll fuck you right here. and you're not going to tell anyone." his grasp is strong on your jaw and you whimper.

"won't tell anyone. i promise."

he pushes your shorts down, his other hand fondling your bare tits from underneath a t-shirt he recognizes as his own.

"did you go through my fucking closet?" he pulls your hair.

you giggle. "maybe."

"god, you're a slut. don't even deserve this."

you push your ass back on his cock and he's in heaven. maybe you don't deserve this but he does. he rubs himself between your folds, nudges your clit with the tip of his cock until your legs shake so hard that patrick has to hold you up.

pushes himself inside.

"so, big. feels so good." you bounce your ass back on him, listening to how he groans. they're deep from within his throat, animalistic.

you didn't think you could like anything better than when he fingered you two months ago. but you like how mean he is. pounding into you. calling you names, his hand around your throat.

you know it's all a facade. when he's close to cumming, he drops the act. holds your hips and tilts your head to give you sloppy kisses. he tells you how wet your pussy is, how tight you are.

"can you feel how deep i am?"

you nod. you love it. you think you love him.

you take him all. tell him that you're not a slut always--it's just for him. his voice cracks when you say this, hot ropes of cum coating you with him.

god, he hopes you can keep a secret.

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #challengers smut #patrick zweig smut #best friends brother!patrick

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roolette · 10 months

Note

Could you do the sex alphabet with Bi-Han please! I love your work!

Thanks sm!! I've gotten a few requests for him, so!

Bi-Han NSFW Alphabet

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

If you've read my Johnny NSFW one, I mentioned that it took him awhile to get used to the idea of aftercare. I think Bi-Han is the same way. He's cold at first, and it's not because he doesn't care, just because he thinks that what he does is enough. Eventually, he learns to listen to you, and aftercare becomes a normal thing. Communication baby!

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

He likes his arms. He's strong, and he's proud of that fact. You like his arms too, to be fair. As for you, he really likes your chest. No matter what kind of chest you have, he likes that he's able to just fall into it after a long day, and let himself be without any expectation. You're a safe space for him.

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

Either in you or on your face, either way, it's going to mark you as his. If he cums on your face, he likes to hold your jaw and look at you, praising you for how perfect you look, just for him. Oh, and he'll absolutely eat you out after he cums in you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He'd love it if you teased him during trainings or meetings, just enough so it's close to being public, but not entirely. He likes the idea of the danger of it, that closeness to being caught. Of course, if you do decide to tease him, he's going to find the closest private place and fuck you until your legs are shaking.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He's had a few flings, but nothing close to what you two have. There's love in this relationship, and he really cherishes it. He's going to take his time with you, and he'll put more focus on your pleasure.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Lotus position. Let him be romantic! He likes that he gets to be so close to you, and he'll run his hands up and down your body and whisper praise into your ear. Again, he feels safe with you, so he likes a position that makes him feel just as safe.

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

He treats sex as a romantic, serious thing, so no, he isn't going to be cracking many jokes. You might be able to get a grin out of him if you joke around, but he isn't going to be the one initiating that. Sometimes this means he gets into his own head during sex, but luckily, you're there to pull him out of it.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Fairly groomed? Like enough that it's neat, but not fully shaved. He doesn't care if you shave, so why should he care if he does?

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Like I said, he's SO intimate and romantic. Praising you, holding you. Moments like this are when he can put his guard down. He's still stoic, of course, but he manages to be that without being, well, cold. Basically worships you, he wants nothing more than to make this good for you.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Barely ever. He thinks it's undignified. But sometimes you're away, and he misses you, and he can't help it. Overall, though, he's not going to.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Temperature play. You guys KNEW this one was coming. Will hold ice on your clit while he eats you out. He loves to watch you squirm and know that he's the one who can make you fall apart like this.

Bondage. On you, specifically. Likes to tie your hands above your head while his hands travel across your skin, teasing you just so. He likes to hear you whine and beg him to hurry up, but no, he's taking his time. Oh, and expect blindfolds as well.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

In your bed, obviously, as it's the most private and intimate. But again, remember how I said he wants you to tease him? He can ABSOLUTELY be persuaded to fuck you in the corner of the training room or somewhere sort of public. It's not often, but it's rough and hot

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

Run your hands across anywhere. His shoulders, his arms, his chest. Your touch literally makes him dizzy. Whisper in his ear, too, and he'll loose every inch of composure.

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

He's not a sub. Nope. It's just not going to happen. He likes to be in control, and he's already vulnerable with you during sex. There's just a certain feeling that comes with being a sub that makes him uncomfortable.

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

He REALLY likes to fuck your face. He'll run his fingers through your hair and tell you how good you're being for him, how pretty you look ruined like this. With giving, though, it's different. He's going to take his sweet time with it, teasing you until you're begging him to cum. And, just when you're about to, he'll back off. Evil, he is.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Both. You can never be sure, but he'll obviously go at the pace most comfortable for you. It's usually slower, but sometimes he just wants to be rough with you, and leave you begging for more.

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

Rarely. Again, sex is intimate and important in your relationship, and to him, quickies cheapen that.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Willing to try things. He's into bondage, so he can be persuaded into other things. So long as he's dominant.

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

He has STAMINA. He'll go for a long time. Really into orgasm delay, so you are in for a TIME.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He's fine if you have them, but he doesn't really like using them in bed. He wants all of your pleasure to come from him. Call him selfish, but it's what he likes.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

RUTHLESS. SUCH A TEASE. You'll be whining and begging for him, and he'll still make your wait for your orgasm.

"You're already begging? But I've barely touched you."

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

He'll grunt and swear, but he's quiet overall. Goes back to wanting to keep sex between the two of you.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

As much as he likes to be dominant in bed, if you're cuddling, he is absolutely going to cuddle into you, hold his head on your chest, etc. He'll mumble about how it's embarrassing, but you tell him there's nothing to fear. Run your hands through his hair, please, it's soothing for him.

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

Longer than he is thick, but still big. You can take him well.

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

Thought he wasn't that horny, and then he started dating you, and he honestly surprises himself. Wants you as often as he can have you. Almost needy for you.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

He won't fall asleep until you do. He likes to watch you fall asleep, and know that you're just as safe as he is.

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat imagine #mk imagine #mortal kombat smut #bi han x reader #bi han mk #bi han

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