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pucksandpower · 8 months ago

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Three Weeks

Day 2 → Chastity 💋 Max Verstappen

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Three weeks.

Three weeks is all it took for you to lose your sanity, to be stretched thin by a mixture of longing and frustration so intense it makes you want to scream.

And scream you have — into pillows, into the empty apartment that feels like it’s mocking you with its silence. Max is thousands of miles away, tearing up the circuits in North and South America, while you’re here, in bed, staring at the ceiling with tears of sheer, unfiltered need blurring your vision.

It’s the belt. That damn belt.

It’s tight against your skin, a constant reminder of his control, of how much you want him, of how much you can’t have him. It’s cruel, almost — leaving you like this, teetering on the edge of madness, so close to breaking that you’ve nearly begged him over the phone to let you take it off.

But Max, in his cool, controlled way, simply chuckled. “Patience, schatje,” he had said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll know if you try anything. Don’t make it worse for yourself.”

You haven’t seen him in weeks. His voice is all you have, crackling through the phone, teasing you mercilessly, coaxing more desperate pleas from your lips with every passing day. The sound of engines roaring in the background as he whispered sweet, sinful things to you, telling you how much he misses you, how he can’t wait to get his hands on you.

And now, you’re here. Alone. Aching.

The tears that slip from your eyes aren’t new. They’ve been coming in waves, uncontrollable and humiliating in their persistence. You’ve tried to study, to focus on anything other than the throbbing between your legs, but nothing works. Every time you close your eyes, you see his smirk, feel the phantom touch of his fingers tracing over the belt’s leather, and it’s enough to drive you mad.

The apartment door creaks open, and you freeze, half convinced you’re imagining it. But then you hear the familiar sound of his footsteps, slow and deliberate, and your heart skips a beat.

“Max?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper, but it carries through the stillness of the room.

He steps into the bedroom, and for a moment, you just stare at him, unable to comprehend that he’s actually here. Max looks every bit the champion he is — tall, broad-shouldered, with that aura of confidence that makes your stomach flip.

He’s home. Days early. And he’s looking at you like you’re his next victory.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “What a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

His tone is soft, almost teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver. He’s right — you are a mess. A pathetic, frustrated mess who’s been counting down the seconds until he’d come home, until he’d finally-

“Please,” you choke out, the word escaping before you can stop it. There’s no dignity left in you, no pride — just raw, desperate need.

Max’s smirk deepens, and he reaches out, brushing a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb. “What’s wrong, schatje? Did I leave you like this too long?”

The question is rhetorical, but you nod anyway, biting your lip to keep from sobbing.

His eyes darken, and he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Good.”

A shudder runs through you at the single word, your breath hitching in your throat. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how much you’ve been suffering, and he’s relishing every second of it.

Max’s fingers trail down your body, stopping at the belt’s buckle. He tugs on it lightly, making you gasp as it tightens around you. “You’ve been good, haven’t you? Kept this on just like I told you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, nodding frantically. “Yes, Max, please-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, his thumb pressing against your lips. “I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you’ve missed me.”

His command is clear, and you don’t hesitate, the words tumbling out of you in a rush. “I’ve missed you so much. I can’t — Max, I can’t stand it anymore, I need you-”

He hums, clearly satisfied with your answer, and finally, finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small silver key. The sight of it makes your heart race, a fresh wave of tears spilling over as relief and anticipation flood your senses.

Max doesn’t rush. He never does. Instead, he takes his time, savoring the moment as he slides the key into the lock, his eyes never leaving yours. The click is almost deafening in the quiet room, and when he finally undoes the belt, you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips.

He pulls it away from you, tossing it aside carelessly, and then — then he just looks at you. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail, every tremor, every breath you take. It’s maddening, the way he’s just standing there, watching you unravel before his eyes.

“Max,” you whimper, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you. “Please.”

But he doesn’t move. Instead, he leans down, so close that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, and he blows — a single, soft puff of air against your neglected bundle of nerves.

It’s all it takes. The sensation is so light, so fleeting, but it’s enough to send you over the edge, your body seizing up as pleasure crashes through you like a tidal wave. You cry out, arching off the bed, your vision blurring as you’re torn apart by the force of your release.

And Max just watches. He watches as you shatter beneath him, as you tremble and writhe, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He’s in control — he always has been — and he’s enjoying every second of it.

When you finally come down, your body going limp with exhaustion, he smiles. It’s soft, almost tender, but there’s a wicked glint in his eyes that tells you this is far from over.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you like a second skin. “And I’m going to remind you of that every single day.”

You don’t doubt it for a second.

Max doesn’t waste any time. The second your body starts to relax, sinking into the bed with the aftershocks still rippling through you, he’s on you again, hands firm and unyielding as they slide down your sides. There’s no tenderness in his touch now — no gentle caresses, no soft murmurs. He’s relentless, each move calculated to drag you back into that haze of desperation and desire that’s been your prison for weeks.

“Max, I-” Your voice breaks, but he doesn’t let you finish. He cuts you off with a rough kiss, his lips bruising against yours, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growls against your mouth, and there’s a thrill that shoots through you at the possessiveness in his tone.

You nod, even though every part of you is already trembling from exhaustion. But Max doesn’t care. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay, doesn’t check to see if you can handle more. He knows what you need — what he needs — and he’s not going to stop until he’s satisfied.

His hands grip your thighs, spreading them apart with a force that makes your breath hitch. You’re still oversensitive, every nerve in your body on high alert, and when his fingers slide into you, it’s almost too much.

“Max-”

“Shh,” he soothes, his thumb pressing down on your clit with just enough pressure to make you squirm. “You can take it, schatje. I know you can.”

Your head is spinning, the mix of pleasure and pain blurring together until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. But even through the haze, you hear the challenge in his voice — the unspoken dare. You won’t beg him to stop. Not now. Not after everything.

He moves his hand with a skill that makes you see stars, curling his fingers just right, his thumb rubbing circles that have you gasping for air. You’re already so close, your body primed to snap at the slightest touch, and Max knows it. He knows exactly how to push you, how to stretch you to your limit and then demand just a little more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on your face as he works you over. “So beautiful like this. You’re perfect when you fall apart for me.”

You can’t speak, can’t do anything but moan as he continues, his words sinking into your skin and lighting you on fire. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate for something to hold onto as the pressure builds again, more intense than before.

“Max, I-” The words are swallowed by another moan as he hits that spot inside you, and you arch off the bed, every muscle in your body tightening. “I can’t — I’m going to-”

“I know,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “But you’re going to wait for me.”

It’s impossible, but you try, biting down on your lip so hard you taste blood. Your entire body is screaming at you to let go, to give in, but Max’s grip on your thigh tightens, grounding you.

“Wait,” he repeats, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re mine, schatje. You come when I say.”

It’s torture — sweet, agonizing torture — and you don’t know how much longer you can hold on. But Max is relentless, his hand working you with ruthless precision, keeping you right on the edge until you’re sobbing from the strain.

“Please,” you beg, the word slipping out before you can stop it. “Max, please-”

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Now.”

The single word is all it takes. The coil inside you snaps, and you’re falling, tumbling into the abyss with a scream that echoes through the room. It’s overwhelming, the pleasure crashing over you in waves, so intense that it leaves you breathless, trembling, tears spilling down your cheeks.

Max doesn’t stop. Even as you’re coming apart beneath him, he keeps going, pushing you further, dragging out every last bit of pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, sobbing mess in his arms.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice filled with satisfaction as he watches you fall to pieces. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You can’t respond, can’t even think. Your mind is blank, your body limp, completely at his mercy. And yet, there’s a part of you that craves more, that wants to keep going, to see how far he’ll take you.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly, watching as your body shudders at the loss. His hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly as he positions himself above you. The look in his eyes is predatory, his intent clear. He’s not done with you yet — not even close.

“You’re going to give me another one,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument. “And then another, until I’m satisfied.”

You don’t know how you’ll survive it, but you nod, the need to please him overwhelming every other thought. Your body is already spent, muscles twitching with exhaustion, but when he thrusts into you, filling you completely, every nerve comes alive again.

The first thrust steals the breath from your lungs, the stretch almost too much after everything. But Max doesn’t give you time to adjust. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slamming into yours with a force that has you crying out, your hands clawing at the sheets.

“Max-” His name is a broken plea on your lips, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he speeds up, his grip on your hips so tight that it borders on painful.

“You can take it,” he growls, his voice rough with need. “You’re going to take everything I give you.”

Your body responds to his command, the pleasure building again, too fast, too intense. You’re already so close, the edge looming before you, but Max doesn’t let up. He drives into you with an urgency that makes your head spin, his breath hot against your skin as he leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss.

It’s too much, and you’re falling again, the orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you sobbing, clinging to him as your body convulses with the aftershocks. But Max doesn’t stop. He keeps going, pushing you through the pleasure, dragging you back up to that peak again and again until you’re trembling, your cries muffled against his chest.

You lose track of time, of everything, your world narrowing down to the feel of him inside you, the sound of his voice in your ear, the taste of his skin on your lips. He’s relentless, driving you to the brink and pulling you back only to shove you over the edge again.

“Please,” you whimper, your voice barely more than a broken sob. “Max, I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he says, his tone firm, unwavering. “One more, schatje. Give me one more.”

You don’t know how you can, your body already beyond its limit. But Max’s hand is on your cheek, his thumb brushing away your tears as he looks into your eyes, his gaze filled with a hunger that sends a shiver down your spine.

“Or,” he adds, his voice deceptively calm, “I’ll put the belt back on. Another three weeks, just like this.”

The threat is enough to cut through the haze of exhaustion, your eyes widening in alarm. You can’t — another three weeks of this would destroy you.

“Max-”

“It’s your choice,” he says, his tone casual as if he’s not asking you to make an impossible decision. “But you’re going to give me one more either way. So what will it be, schatje? Now, or later?”

There’s no real choice, and he knows it. You’re too far gone, too desperate to defy him now. “Now,” you whisper, your voice cracking on the word. “Please, Max. Now.”

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips, dark and satisfied. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t waste any time. His hand moves between your legs, finding that sensitive spot with ruthless efficiency, and you scream, the sound torn from your throat as the pleasure crashes through you again. It’s overwhelming, almost painful in its intensity, and you clutch at him, your nails digging into his skin as your body spasms with the force of it.

“Max-” His name is a plea, a sob, but he’s not letting up, driving you harder, faster, until you’re convulsing beneath him, your vision going white as the world falls away.

This one is different. It’s not just an orgasm — it’s a breaking point, the moment where your body gives out completely, surrendering to the relentless onslaught of pleasure. You feel yourself falling, tumbling into an abyss with no end, and Max is the only thing grounding you, his hands on your hips, his voice in your ear, telling you how perfect you are, how much he loves you.

By the time it’s over, you’re spent, completely and utterly spent. Your body is limp, your mind blank, and all you can do is lie there, panting, as the aftershocks ripple through you.

Max slows his movements, his hands gentle now as he soothes you, murmuring soft words of praise as he strokes your hair. “You did so well, schatje,” he whispers, his voice filled with pride. “So good for me.”

You can’t respond, too exhausted to do anything but cling to him, your body trembling with the remnants of everything he’s put you through.

Max brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch tender now as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It’s over,” he murmurs, his voice softening. “You did so well.”

You nod weakly, your breath evening out as you slowly come back to yourself, the warmth of his body comforting against your own. He holds you close, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back, grounding you in the here and now.

“Rest, schatje,” he whispers, his lips grazing your temple. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

With those words, the last of your tension melts away, and you finally let yourself drift, safe in the knowledge that you’re in his arms, exactly where you belong.

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woso-dreamzzz · 2 months ago

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Injured (Alexia's Version) IX

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You wake up after passing out

TW: discussions of eating disorder, mentions of self harm through dance

Waking up from being passed out isn't how it's portrayed in action movies.

There's no jerk reaction. There's not much clarity. There's absolutely no brilliant idea you have immediately when you awake.

It's slow and kind of painful, one side of your face throbbing with pain from where it's pressed onto the hard wooden flooring of the practice room.

You come back into consciousness confused.

You were practicing before you fell, practicing until your feet ached and your head spun and until you can feel your toe pads grow wet with your own blood.

Spin.

Jump.

Spin.

Again. Again. Again.

Over and over again.

No rest. No breaks. Not a moment of peace for yourself as you practiced.

You didn't deserve it. Not yet anyway. You were just a members of the Corps. You weren't a soloist. You weren't a principal.

They could rest because they've already made it. They're at the very top. They're the greatest they've ever been.

You're not that. Not yet anyway and those that aren't the best have to keep practicing so that's what you do.

You practice again and again until you're bleeding and bruised and-

And you're on the floor with a throbbing face, utterly confused.

You haven't fallen. You've never fallen. You can't have fallen.

You haven't though.

You passed out, midway through your practice and now, as you open your eyes and blink, there's someone with a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey," It's the woman that works at receptionist," Don't try and get up, sweetheart. I've called your mother. She's on the way."

She's speaking to you. You can definitely hear her but it sounds like she's miles away. Miles away and deep under water. Or maybe you're the one that's under the water.

"My...What?"

The woman smiles at you, slightly strained as she drinks in your prone figure. "Your mother. She's on her way here now."

"I..." Your befuddlement must be written on your face as you try to make sense of what she's just told you because she gives you a kind smile and hands you a sports drink.

It's one of your favourites from the vending machine and you don't want to think about how many you've drank instead of actually eating.

Your stomach is completely empty, feeling more like a trench in the deepest pit of the sea than anything else.

It's a feeling you're familiar with. One that you can grasp onto because of that familiarity as you try to claw yourself out of the confusion that's haunted you since opening your eyes.

"I-"

"Have a sip," The receptionist tells you," That's it. Small sips. Take it slow."

The bottle is still half full by the time the door swings open again.

Alexia looks manic, eyes wide and hair not at all neat and tidy like it usually is.

"Thank you for coming," The receptionist says, stepping away from you finally to approach your mother," She's had an electrolyte drink but that's about it. I'd give it another ten minutes or so and then try to get her in the car." She glances briefly at you before lowering her voice just so Alexia can hear. "I know it's not my place but perhaps you want to talk to her about going for a session with a member of the support staff? They specialise in eating disorders."

Alexia nods grimly. She doesn't particularly like being told that, that this older woman can tell so clearly you're suffering from an eating disorder while she, herself, hadn't noticed for weeks. But, still, Alexia nods and agrees.

"Hey," She says softly, helping you to prop yourself up against the mirror, staring at the blank wall ahead of you both," How are you feeling?"

"My face hurts," Is the only thing you offer up.

"Let me look, bambi."

Gently, Alexia takes your face in her hands. She checks you over softly, turning your head around in her grip so she could get a good look.

"Just as beautiful as always," She teases, running a soft finger down the bridge of your nose like she always did when you were little.

"Mami," You complain," That's not what I meant."

"You're not bruised just yet," Alexia tells you," But we'll put some ice on it when we get home. And you don't seem concussed. Can you tell me what day it is?"

Your lips quirk up, just briefly. "Would it be too soon to say that I don't remember?"

"Yes. Unless you really can't remember?"

"I remember," You say," Today is the day Jaume wanted to stay late at practice and you didn't let him."

Alexia hums. "That's right. So, you're not concussed. Just ice when we get home and a good, hearty meal."

The soft, quiet atmosphere is shattered in an instant - shattered into millions of tiny little pieces and you tense from your position under Alexia's arm.

"I'm not hungry."

"Really? Because you just passed out."

"Heat," Is the excuse you come up with, mind spiralling with attempts to push this conversation away," It's hot in here. Especially when I'm dancing."

Alexia doesn't look convinced though. She's always been able to see through you, always been able to needle and wheedle her way into finding out things you really didn't want her to.

"I'm sure," She says," But I'm also sure the lack of food didn't help either."

"Mami." You voice is firm as you speak," Drop it."

"No." Alexia's voice is just as firm as yours as she keeps you under her arm, pulling you even closer until your cheek rests on her shoulder. "Sometimes, we need to have hard conversations that we don't want to have."

"We really don't."

"We do." Alexia's voice is still firm. Firm and tense. "We can have it at home or we can have it here. It doesn't matter to me where we have it but we're having it tonight."

"Mami-"

"No," Alexia cuts across you before her tone softens again," I love you, y/n. I love you so much but you're hurting. You're hurting in a way that I can't understand but I can help, alright? I want to help you. You have to let me. We don't have to talk now but we do have to talk."

"I...I know, Mami," You say, trying to swallow down the tears building in your eyes," Mami...I know."

A soft kiss is pressed onto your head.

"We'll talk when we get home," Alexia promises you," And we are going to be grabbing a milkshake and nuggets on the way back. No arguments."

"I wasn't going to...Can we get mozzarella sticks too?"

That shocks a laugh out of her. "Of course, bambi. Extra mozzarella sticks."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso

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always-just-red · 9 months ago

Note

Hii! I've seen some Pregnancy scenario with LaD's men, but I have this HC-- personally for Sylus. That when fem!reader got pregnant, he didn't really understand how the Pregnancy hormones work, until he experienced one and he got confused how he should act or react because it's feels like he's walking on landime, one wrong move/word, she'd throwing tantrum or being sulky at him

I've heard from my Friend who got pregnant before, when she craving something and her Husband showing any form that he can't fulfill what she's craves, she felt her heart broken, and she'd sulk and acted as if he just cheated on her. The problem is, she always craved something that didn't even exist at that moment😂, she's craving certain type of Mango while it's not even that Mango season, so nobody selling it. He literally being desperate to negotiate with her cravings

So... Can I request a scenario smiliar like that? It doesn't have to be mango, or any foods. Just... how Pregnancy hormones or Cravings could make Sylus got frustated lol

Aaaaa anon this is adorable, thank you! We love making Sylus suffer in cute and harmless ways. He's always asking for trouble, so let's give him some! 😌💅

Something Sweet

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: Sylus knows how to get what he wants. Getting what you want might be a little more tricky...

Genre: fluff!

Warnings/Additional tags: female!reader, IMPLIED pregnant!reader (pregnancy not actually mentioned or described- just hormones being hormones ✌), established relationship, canon pet names, a lil bit of roleplay because Sylus refuses to leave his Mystic Adventure era

| Word count: 2.1k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Sy, d’you know what I’m craving right now?”

“Always, sweetie.” Sylus doesn’t look up from his book. “Not now, though. I’m tired.”

Morning sunlight streams through the gaps in your living room curtains, casting pale yellow shapes over the floor. A shard of it has been inching over the sofa towards Sylus, the sharp edge now grazing the side of his face. He shifts, ever so slightly, away from its touch. His eyes are open but heavy.

“No,” you scold, leaning forwards to swat at him with your book. “That’s not what I meant, you narcissist.”

He chuckles with his usual low timbre— his gaze still not lifting— and the sound is deeper for how close he is to sleep. He wants to give in to it, you can tell. When he turns a page, the movement is languid, soft. You’re losing him.

“Sy,” you say again, then with more of a whine: “Sylus.”

His eyes flutter closed as he draws in a deep breath. His hand raises, his fingers stretching to pull his reading glasses from his face. They’re set down on the arm of the chair beside him, along with the book, and he turns to you with a smile. “What are you craving, sweetie?”

You rest your book on your stomach. Your legs are stretched out over Sylus’s lap, and his hand finds one of your feet, massaging an ache from it as you begin your speech. “Do you remember that café we used to go to? The one we found when it started raining in the park that day? We didn’t think it was open, but then the owner knocked on the window and said we could—”

“Yeah?” His hand moves to your other foot.

“Well, they make these—”

“Macarons.”

“You remember?”

His smile widens like he remembers vividly. “Kitten, how could I forget? I’m still jealous of that sweet little treat. You’ve never made that face for me, and believe me—” he wiggles one of your toes— “I’ve tried.”

That had been one of the only times you’d truly caught him off-guard, back when your feelings for one another were unnamed and uncharted. The rain had been drumming against the café window, and you’d heaved Sylus’s damp coat from your shoulders— giggled at the raised eyebrow and the sarcastic ‘…thanks’ he’d given in turn. One hot drink later, you were lifting a pastel pink macaron to your lips, taking a delicate bite and failing to stifle a tiny, almost euphoric moan.

You remember realising yourself: blushing profusely and expecting some remark, some ridicule, but none ever came. Sylus’s eyes were wide, dark, fixed upon your still parted mouth.

After a few of the longest seconds of your life, he’d dragged the plate with the rest of the macarons away from you and muttered something about how you had better not do that again.

“They’re still the sweetest things I’ve ever tasted,” you tease now, just as you’d wrestled him for that plate back then, set on eating every last macaron.

He makes a hmph as he idly runs a finger over the part of your foot he knows is ticklish. His expression is distinctly grumpy, but it falters as you laugh and try to writhe away from him.

You’re quickly out of breath. “Sylus?”

“Mmm?”

He glances up at you and you smile sweetly, head tilting. “Please?”

His coat on a rainy day. The entire plate of macarons in the end; he’s never been very good at denying you anything. For the first time since you’d stirred him from his book, however, he appears genuinely regretful. “You’re forgetting something, sweetie,” he murmurs gently. “Why did we stop going to that café, hmm?”

You shrug.

“It closed, kitten,” he sighs. “Months ago.”

“What?”

Not only did you already know that— you actually visited the café on its final day. The owner was telling you stories: he was moving somewhere warmer, closer to family, and he needed all the funds he could get. Sylus had snuck an obscene amount of money into the man’s tip jar whilst you acted as a distraction. You both had fond memories of that place; it was nice to make one more.

It's all coming back to you and you’re struck by a wave of nostalgia. You want to go back there. You can’t go back there. It doesn’t exist anymore, and you’ll never taste sweetness like that again.

Your mouth has gone dry.

“Sweetie?” Sylus prompts, because he notices you’re far away. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” your voice wobbles, “I just really wanted… I mean, I really needed one of those—”

“… Macarons?” he finishes for you.

You burst into tears, and one day, you’ll tally this as another time you took the man by surprise. His face drops instantly— lost, for a moment— before he slides your legs from his lap, allowing him to lean closer. “No, no, no,” he coos, “don’t cry, kitten, please. I didn’t mean to… well, I didn’t realise…”

He doesn’t know what to say, and he always knows what to say. He set you off with a single word and now he’s stuttering like sentences are all possible landmines. He tries his luck again, putting a foot forward: “Listen to me. I’ll go to the store. Would that be alright? Or perhaps there’s another café that could—”

You explode: sobbing even more viscerally. Your whole body shakes with it.

Sylus has frozen. He watches on helplessly as you cry, blabbering about the macarons you can’t have and the café you can’t return to. Across the room, even Mephisto has hunched down on his perch, though he issues a few, spirited squawks, maybe in solidarity with your breakdown, or maybe in protest of it.

It’s like a catalyst. You cry more: burying your face in your hands because what the hell is wrong with you? It’s not a big deal. It’s not a big deal, so why do you feel sick? And then there’s Sylus— your Sylus, devoted and adoring— and here you are, punishing him for something beyond his control.

You look up from your hands, desperate to apologise, but he’s gone. More shards of sunlight paint his empty seat and catch all that’s left of him: a few crow feathers, glistening like onyx. Mephisto is gone too, and the room is quiet, save for you snivelling and feeling sorry for yourself.

“Sylus?” you call out into the empty morning.

It isn’t his fault, not really. You wouldn’t want to be around you, either.

…

Something brushes over your cheek, and your tired eyes open.

The sun has ebbed back behind the curtains and the ceiling light has taken its place, casting artificial highlights over everything in reach: the coffee table, the closed-up flowers at its centre and a mug of tea that’s gone cold. Sylus is in front of you too, backlit and soft like a daydream, and he—

He left you.

“Sy?” you whisper warily, because the context is coming back to you slowly, piece by piece.

“Hey,” he coaxes, voice as honeyed as whatever’s turned the air sweet.

You blink, rubbing sleep from your eyes and relishing the warmth of his hand on your face. Then you slap his shoulder. “Hey, really? That’s all you’ve got— hey?”

He’s kneeling for you— on the floor, beside the couch— so you can meet his eyes. He settles his chin thoughtfully on the edge of the seat, his nose almost touching yours. “What would you prefer, sweetie?” His lips are close to yours too. “Good evening, my beloved? Greetings, my queen?”

“How about sorry?” you snap, because he isn’t cute and he isn’t charming.

He pouts. “Why sorry?”

“Because you left, Sylus!” You sit up straighter, and your phone tumbles out of your lap. Its screen is still lit-up from a few hours ago, showcasing a very one-sided conversation and a rant you never actually sent, because it’s still in the text box.

You vaguely recall writing it, so you try to snatch the phone from Sylus’s hand as he plucks it from the floor. He’s more alert than you. More co-ordinated. He keeps it out of your grasp as he reads the unsent message, an eyebrow raising.

It was a lot of things— colourful, creative— not entirely tasteful. “My, my, your highness,” he tuts, “so this is the treatment your valiant knight receives for undertaking your quest?”

“You’re not valiant,” you rebuke, and you manage to wrestle your phone from him. “You’re—”

“A heartless prick,” he finishes casually, quoting your message with a chuckle. He takes your free hand and kisses the back of it, refusing to let you pull away. “And whose fault is that, I wonder?”

“You can have your heart back.”

“Nope. You’re stuck with it, sweetie. With me, too. Now—” he sits back on his knees— “would you please ask me about my quest?”

The analogy is lost on you. You sit fully up, looking down at him. “What quest, oh valiant knight?”

His lips form a smirk; he just loves when you play along. “Close your eyes.”

You do— whether you’re queen or not. You hear him shifting aside, and then there’s a snap of his fingers. The air changes, warping like thick, liquid smoke, and you know he’s using his Evol. “Open,” he commands.

And there on the coffee table, freshly teleported, is a plate of macarons the colour of cherry blossoms. As if anticipating the comparison, Sylus pulls a handful of pink petals from his pocket and blows them up into the air so they can spiral down on the scene. He watches them. Then you. “Ta-da,” he proclaims, his tone dry but full of humour.

You’re prone to hyperbole nowadays, but this is without a doubt the best thing you have ever seen.

“Sylus,” you gasp in disbelief, “how did you—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says; the story isn’t for today, and he’s very, very tired. A few weeks from now he’ll tell you about how he tracked down the contact information of the owner of the old café. How he spent an hour on the phone bargaining for a certain macaron recipe, and several more hours in the kitchen, trying to get them perfect. “Now, they might not be exactly the same, sweetie. But I did try to—”

You surge forwards, capturing his lips in a kiss. It’s so impulsive— so reckless— that you almost tumble down from the couch, but he catches you, steadies you, and your hand is gripping the soft of his hair as he kisses you back. Slowly, his mouth not leaving yours, he lifts you back into your seat.

“Easy, sweetie.” His voice is low as he pulls away, and though he turns his face from you, you can make out the blush on his cheeks. He settles back into his kneeling position on the floor. “I have one more surprise for you. Do try to control yourself.”

He retrieves a small, complete flower from his pocket, albeit one a little dreary from its journey. Sylus smiles triumphantly as he holds it out to you, and he was right; you do want to throw yourself at him. Instead, you take the flower and lean forwards, tucking it behind his ear before he can protest. He’d tilted closer to help you, and he sits back with an exasperated tsk when you’re done.

“It suits you,” you grin.

He yawns. “Everything does.”

You don’t want to get into trouble, so you shimmy to the very edge of your seat and carefully— showing tremendous restraint— reach out to take his face in your hands. “You’re amazing, Sy. Thank you for doing all of this for me, but…”

“But…?”

“I missed you. I like macarons, yeah,” you smile, “but I’d much rather have you.”

This time, he can’t hide his face and the way it goes pink, like the blossom behind his ear. His cheeks are warm beneath your palms. “You couldn’t have said that before I spent the whole day—”

His voice is strangled as you keel towards him— slow and deliberate— to thread your arms around him and pull him into a hug. He tenses for a moment, then wraps his arms around you too: holding you tightly, keeping you from falling any further. You can feel his hand stroking your back and he hums as you give him a gentle squeeze.

“Such a lovely moment, kitten,” he muses, your head on his shoulder. “I do hope it’s sincere, and not— say— an excuse for someone to get her paws on the macarons behind me.”

There’s another moment of quiet.

“Don’t be silly, Sy,” you retort, but your mouth is full, your cheeks are stuffed, and not a single word of it is intelligible.

#🖋rach is actually writing #sylus x reader #sylus #love and deepspace #lads sylus #lnds sylus #l&ds sylus #qin che #sylus x mc #sylus x you #lads x reader #lads #lnds #l&ds

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foxy-eva · 1 month ago

Text

Come in Handy

Summary: Spencer is very needy so you take care of him

Request: Sub!Spencer and Softdom!Reader where he gets a handjob and whimpers and likes to be praised

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) dom/sub undertones (Softdom!Reader, Sub!Spencer), teasing, use of nicknames, grinding, mild degradation, praising, handjob

Word count: 900

Masterlist

Right when you thought your boyfriend might have finally fallen asleep, you felt him move closer to you, clearly longing for your nearness. Wrapping your arms around him, you pulled him flush against your body while he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Spencer’s breath felt hot against your skin and you could feel his heart beating erratically inside his chest. Quickly it became obvious that your proximity wasn’t the only thing he craved.

“My poor pitiful boy,” you teased when you felt Spencer press his already half-hard length against your thigh. “Are you having a difficult time falling asleep?”

The whimper falling from his lips morphed into a full moan when you rubbed your leg further against his aching cock.

“Aww,” you cooed. “So desperate.”

“Need you…,” he whined.

Your hand met his jaw and urged him to tilt his head so you could capture his lips in a soft kiss. There was hardly anything in this world you loved more than seeing him so needy.

“Go on,” you breathed against his lips while pressing your thigh harder against his erection.

Almost frantically he began grinding against your leg, the fabric of his pajama pants creating some much needed friction. It wasn’t enough for him, though and you were very aware of that.

After just a few moments he muttered, “Please…”

Innocently as ever, you purred, “Please what, cutie?”

“Please, I need more!” His plea sounded so desperate it made your heart jump.

To end his suffering, you placed another kiss on his lips before telling him, “Then be a good boy and take your clothes off.”

Hurried and with little grace he pushed the blankets aside and shed his pajamas, carelessly dropping them on the floor. You leaned over to your nightstand to turn on the night lamp and reach for the lube in your drawer. When you turned to your boyfriend, he was laying on his back, his hard cock resting on his stomach, aching to be touched.

The tip was already glistening with his arousal when you gently touched him to spread the lube over his velvety skin. Spencer shuddered while his hardness twitched against your palm. Laying down beside him, you kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck and his collarbone and watched how his entire body broke out in goosebumps.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy like that,” you praised him. “Let me take care of you.”

Curious fingertips danced along his shaft before gliding over the tip. They wandered down his length again to tease the soft skin of his balls with featherlight touches. You were aware how sensitive he was but it still amazed you every time you witnessed his reactions.

His mouth hung agape while a broken moan fell from his lips. When you wrapped your hand around the base of his erection, you gave him a gentle squeeze and watched how two beads of his precum spilled from the swollen head.

“Your cock is so pretty,” you purred before placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He only whined in response. Then with a firm tone you ordered, “I want you to watch.”

Spencer’s eyes widened at your words and you noticed how his pupils dilated to the rim. Without hesitation he let his sight drop to where your hand was wrapped around him.

“You’re so beautiful, Spencer,” you whispered while moving your hand up lazily. “I could toy with you all night.”

Something between a cry and a laugh escaped his throat. “That would be the end of me.”

“You’re right,” you agreed. “I won’t be cruel, I promise. You’re always such a good boy for me after all.”

A content hum rumbled through his chest. Spencer’s eyes were still fixated on your hand and he gasped when you finally began tightening your grip around him. With slow but precise motions you caressed him, swiping your thumb over his weeping tip every time you got to the top.

“Does that feel good, my love?”

“Yes,” he whimpered. “So good.”

Without a warning, you accelerated your pace until Spencer sang your praise in the form of moans falling from his lips. Just for a moment he closed his eyes in an attempt to prolong this feeling but you wouldn’t let him.

“Open your eyes,” you ordered and he obliged.

“Fuck, I’m so close!”

His hips jerked up into your fist almost erratically while you kept stroking him just the way you knew he liked.

You tilted your head to whisper in his ear, “Come for me.”

It only took a few more moments until Spencer finally let go, falling apart at your mercy, his warm essence spilling over your hand and onto his stomach. The sensation of him pulsing against your palm made you moan together with him. Your hand slowed down, giving him a few more soft strokes until he had nothing left to give.

“Good boy,” you praised before gently kissing his lips. “You did so well.”

When you got up from the bed, Spencer whined in protest but was quickly soothed when you returned with a warm washcloth. Gently and with the utmost care you cleaned up the evidence of his desire from his stomach and his now softening length.

Then, you found your home inside his embrace again. Spencer pulled the covers over the both of you before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Feeling better?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, already half-asleep.

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebs-oxygen @nomajdetective @kobaltdragon @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings @spensreid @silversprings-mp3 @person-005 @kittyisick @siriuslyval03 @sleepysongbirdsings @brownbunnyb @thegoodwitchs-blog

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff

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debonairprincesposts · 7 months ago

Text

Burn out

(Jason Todd x Reader)

Summary: Jason comes home and finds reader passed out in the bathroom

Words: 1.7k

As Jason climbed through the window of his apartment, the familiar scent of leather and faint traces of gun oil greeted him. The day had been long, filled with the usual patrols and skirmishes that left him both physically and mentally drained. Yet, as he closed the window behind him, a sense of relief washed over him. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place where he could let the weight of the world slip away.

But as he walked deeper into the dimly lit space, something felt off. The silence hung heavy in the air, and an unsettling instinct prickled at the back of his mind. He called out for you, his girlfriend, but the only response was the echo of his own voice.

"Babe? You here?"

No answer.

His heart began to race as he moved through the living room, a creeping sense of dread pooling in his stomach. He checked the kitchen; no sign of you. The soft light from the bathroom was slightly ajar, casting a warm glow that felt at odds with the chill creeping up his spine.

"Chipmunk?" he called again, his voice tightening.

Pushing the bathroom door open, he was met with a sight that froze him in place. There, on the cold tile floor, lay you, unconscious. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave, and his heart pounded against his ribcage. He rushed to your side, kneeling beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to check for any signs of life.

He called out your name in panic, his voice a mix of urgency and fear. He gently shook your shoulder, trying to rouse you, but there was no response. The sight of your pale face, framed by disheveled hair, sent a jolt of anxiety coursing through him. Why were you here? Why weren’t you in bed?

He quickly scanned the bathroom, searching for clues. Had you been sick? Were you hurt? His mind raced with scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. He couldn't lose you—not like this. Not after everything they had fought through together.

With a swift motion, he gathered you in his arms, cradling you against his chest. The warmth of your body contrasted sharply with the coldness of the tiles beneath them. His heart ached as he felt your fragile weight. For a moment, he simply held you, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, trying to anchor himself in the chaos of his thoughts.

"Come on, sweetheart, wake up," he murmured, desperation creeping into his voice. He could feel his panic rising, his mind flashing back to the times he had lost people he loved. "You can't do this to me."

He gently brushed your hair back from your face, his fingers shaking with worry. Jason had always been the tough one, the one who faced danger head-on, but this—this was different. This was vulnerability, and it terrified him. The thought of you being in pain, of you suffering alone while he was out fighting crime, clawed at his insides.

"Please, just open your eyes," he pleaded, his throat tightening. The memories of their laughter, their late-night talks, and the way you made the darkness feel a little less suffocating flooded his mind. He couldn't imagine his life without you.

After what felt like an eternity, you stirred. Your eyelids fluttered, and you groaned softly, the sound like a balm to his frayed nerves. Relief flooded through him, yet he felt anger bubbling beneath the surface. How could you let yourself get to this point? Did you not know how much you meant to him?

"Baby, hey, it's me," he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

As your eyes slowly opened, confusion clouded your gaze. Jason felt his heart leap at the sight of you, but the worry didn't dissipate. He needed to know why this had happened, why you had collapsed like this.

"I... what happened?" You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You scared the hell out of me," he replied, his voice firm yet laced with tenderness. "You passed out. We need to get you checked out."

He helped you sit up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders for support. The concern etched across his face mirrored the tumult of emotions inside him—relief mingled with anger and an overwhelming need to protect.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, his tone softening. He couldn't bear to see you so vulnerable, so fragile. You needed him now more than ever, and he vowed to be there for you, to ensure you never felt alone in your struggles again.

As he guided you to your feet, he held you close, arm around your waist as he helped you to your room.

Once Jason got you to your bedroom, the warm, inviting space felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the day. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows on the walls. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands steadying you as you swayed slightly.

"Just take a moment," he said, his voice low and reassuring. He knelt down in front of you, searching your eyes for any sign of lingering confusion or distress. "You scared me back there."

You nodded slowly, your brow furrowing slightly as you took in your surroundings. Jason's heart ached at the sight of you looking so lost. He brushed his fingers over your cheek, the warmth of his hand a comforting contrast to the worry that gnawed at him.

"Let's get you some water," he said, standing up and moving toward the bedside table. He poured a glass from the pitcher he always kept filled, his movements deliberate and careful. He could feel the tension in his body, a lingering anxiety that wouldn't easily dissipate.

Returning to your side, he handed you the glass, watching intently as you took small sips. "Easy, don't rush it," he instructed gently, the protective instinct in him flaring up. He couldn't help but wonder if you had been pushing yourself too hard again.

As you finished, he took the glass from you, placing it back on the table. He sat beside you on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. "Do you feel any better?" he asked, his tone softer now, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual bravado.

"Yeah, just a bit dizzy," you admitted, your voice still shaky. "I didn't mean to worry you."

His heart softened at your words. "You don't have to apologize. I just... I hate seeing you like this," he confessed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I wish you would let me in more when you're feeling overwhelmed."

You looked down, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "I didn't think it was that bad. I guess I just pushed myself too far."

Jason sighed, feeling the weight of your words. He wanted to fix everything for you, to protect you from the world's harsh realities. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know? I'm here for you, always. Just let me help."

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently against him. The warmth of your body against his felt grounding, and he breathed out slowly, trying to calm the storm of emotions within him. "What can I do to help you right now?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

"Honestly? Just sit with me for a bit," you replied, leaning your head against his shoulder. The simple request tugged at his heartstrings, and he nodded, grateful for the opportunity to be close to you.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional creak of the building settling. Jason's mind raced with thoughts of how he could support you better in the future, how he could help you navigate the struggles you faced. But for now, he focused on being present, feeling the comforting rhythm of your breathing against him.

After a while, he pulled away slightly to look into your eyes. "Do you want something to eat? Maybe some soup or something light? I can whip up something quick," he offered, eager to take care of you in any way he could.

You smiled faintly, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. "That sounds nice, actually. I'd love some soup."

"Alright, stay put," he said, rising from the bed and heading to the kitchen. As he moved through the familiar space, he felt a surge of purpose. He opened the cupboard, pulling out a can of soup—comfort food that reminded him of simpler times.

While the soup heated on the stove, he couldn't shake the feeling of protectiveness that enveloped him. He considered how he could make you feel more secure in your relationship, how he could encourage you to lean on him rather than carry your burdens alone.

Minutes later, he returned to the bedroom with a steaming bowl of soup, the scent filling the air with warmth. "Here you go," he said, setting the bowl on your lap. "Just take small bites, okay?"

You laughed softly, the sound lifting his spirits. "Yes, sir," you replied, picking up the spoon and taking a cautious sip. He watched you closely, a smile breaking through his earlier worry as you visibly relaxed.

"See? Not so bad," he said, leaning back against the headboard, enjoying the sight of you slowly regaining your strength.

After a few more bites, you looked at him, your expression serious. "Jason, thank you for being here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He felt a warmth bloom in his chest at your words. "I'll always be here. Just promise me you'll talk to me when things get tough, okay? I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

You nodded, your eyes reflecting sincerity. "I promise. I'll try."

As the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, Jason couldn't shake the feeling that this moment, this simple act of caring, was what made everything worthwhile. He was determined to protect you—not just from the dangers outside but from the struggles within. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least you’re okay.

Hope y’all liked it ∠(ᐛ 」∠)

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riddlesbunny · 10 months ago

Text

blood lust

summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.

pairing: Aemond x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: Explicit smut, dark!Aemond, incest, oral sex (f recieving), p in v sex, heavy dubcon, loss of virginity, mention of blood, knife play, angst!!! 18+ MDNI

Destiny was a fickle thing but Aemond Targaryen knew three things for certain: he was destined to lose an eye, destined to claim the largest dragon of the known world and destined to be with you.

For as long as Aemond could remember, he wanted you, dreamed of you. The mere thought of you made his cock ache at any moment.

It was not as if Aemond had no other options. There were plenty of Lord’s willing to send their daughters to King’s Landing to be married off to a prince.

As lovely as those girls might have been, they all shared the same detrimental flaw: they simply were not you. You were a member of House Targaryen — bastard born or not, the blood of Old Valyria ran deep within your veins. You were a skilled dragon rider, you carried yourself with grace, held a quick wit, spoke your mother tongue. Above all else, you had been there for Aemond when no one else was. You were perfect.

Aemond had no interest in being betrothed to a Baratheon or a Lannister, nor an Arryn or a Stark; even the most beautiful girl the Tyrell’s had to offer would simply never compare. After a denied proposal for a betrothal and you being taken away to Dragonstone Aemond felt powerless — until now.

Your entire body aches as you make out your surroundings. You had been taken in the middle of the night, forced onto dragon back with your hands and feet tied.

“Listen to me,” your uncle says as he crouches in front of you, “if you scream the guards will come and you’ll be thrown in the dungeons. You have no friends here except me. Do you understand?”

You nod your head in agreement, desperate to be free of the makeshift gag he had made for you.

“Aemond, this is treason,” you state plainly.

“Treason, would be betraying the crown, sweet niece,” he responds, “I am the crown.”

“Fuck you!” you grumble at him.

“Iksos bona skoros ao jaelagon?” Is that what you want?

Against your better judgment, you spit right in his face, observing him nervously as he wipes it away.

“Fiesty little thing you are.”

“What do you want with me, Aemond? Will you force me to kneel before you? Carve out my eye? Perhaps I’ll suffer the same fate as my brother?”

Ah, Lucerys. He was waiting for you to bring that up.

“While I’m sure that seeing you on your knees is a glorious sight, I have other plans for you.”

“I have no desire to bed you, Aemond. I am betrothed.”

The smirk on his face slightly drops at that. Betrothed.

“And where is Lord Stark now?” He questions casually.

“Preparing his army for war.”

“I wonder how it must feel?” he goes on, “to be whored out? Practically sold like a broodmare so that your pretender of a mother can build herself an army?”

“Better to be his whore than your war prize.”

The mask of cruelty on Aemond's face fades for a moment, and for a second, he almost looks hurt at your words.

“Is that what you think? That you’re merely a ‘prize’? You wound me, dear niece. Do you not remember that I love you?”

Ice fills your veins at his confession and your heart drops into your stomach. Things could’ve been different, they should’ve been.

“I don’t understand why things had to escalate in this way, Aemond,” you say as you start to cry, “you could’ve —“ you choke back a sob, “you could’ve had me.”

Aemond takes your chin in his hands as he lets out a laugh.

“I do have you, baby.”

Fear courses through you at his words. Aemond unsheathes a knife from his jacket pocket and holds it to your chest for a brief moment before pulling away.

“Hold still,” he demands as he cuts the rope that holds your ankles together.

You wince as Aemond forcefully spreads your legs apart, violently cutting a hole into your undergarments, exposing your cunt to him.

“Tell me, has Stark fucked this pretty little pussy yet?”

He knows he hasn’t, he knows you and Cregan still have yet to meet. He wants to hear you say it.

“N-no,” you stutter as you continue to cry. Gods, you look so pretty when you cry, Aemond thinks to himself. He only smirks in response.

“You are still a maiden, right, sweet one? You haven’t let little Lord Strong defile you, have you?”

“Gods, Aemond. No.”

“Hm,” Aemond frowns, “a shame for him, really. Now he’ll never have the chance being that you will never see him again.”

“They’ll come for you,” you tell him.

“If they wish to keep me away from you and your perfect cunt they’ll have to kill you,” he muses, “But even then…”

A darkness takes over your uncles face and you soon realize the Aemond you once knew is gone. You are dealing with a whole new monster. He is an animal, a beast — and you are merely prey.

“Do you touch yourself?” he asks, pulling you from your thoughts.

“S-sometimes,” you whisper, feeling ashamed, but finding it difficult to lie to him.

“What do you think about when you do?”

“Not you,” you retort.

He runs two fingers through your soft folds, causing you to gasp, before bringing his fingers up to the light.

“Liar,” he states as his fingers glisten, coated in your slick. “You know you don’t have to lie to me, baby. I think about you, too…”

You can’t help but notice the evident bulge in your uncle's pants, his cock strains against the delicate fabric. You can tell how big he is. You try your best to divert your gaze elsewhere.

“Now, I’m going to untie your wrists. Might I remind you of what I said earlier: You are far better off in here, with me, than out there,” he says, pointing to the door with his dagger.

You’re not sure if you believe him. At this point, you might prefer to be thrown in the dungeon with the rats, left to starve. Instead of arguing, you simply nod your head as Aemond cuts you free.

You feel wobbly as you stand on your feet, Aemond holds your hands as you gain your composure. Your ankles and wrists feel sore, but Aemond rubs his thumb against your wrist soothingly.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as that familiar ache between your legs begins to grow. You know you shouldn't be aroused by this behavior, but your body is betraying you.

Aemond picks you up swiftly and places you onto his bed. There was a time where you dreamed of this. If only your younger self could see you now.

Your thoughts are interrupted once again as Aemond’s large hand wraps around your throat. He squeezes lightly, trying to keep you in your place. You make a feeble attempt to push him away, but he is too strong and you can’t break free.

“Please, don’t be afraid of me,” he pleads, “I need you,” the timbre of his voice is so low that you aren’t sure if he meant for you to hear. His free hand moves to your breast, massaging it roughly through your chemise.

"You are so beautiful," he says, leaning over you. You feel him press himself against you, his cock rubbing against your leg, pre-cum leaks out of the tip and smears onto your thigh.

He pushes back and nestles himself comfortably between your thighs. His dexterous fingers part your folds ever so gently, exposing you to him completely.

“Gods, you’re perfect. The most perfect girl in the entire realm,” he groans before his face is buried between your thighs. His plump lips suck at your clit as he prods at it with his tongue before moving up and down your slit. You feel yourself getting wetter, arousal leaks from your core and Aemond laps it up eagerly. On instinct, you spread your legs even further apart, your body betraying you once again.

Aemond licks harder, and you feel the soft muscle of his tongue slip inside you. A loud moan erupts from your chest as a tight knot forms in the pit of your stomach. Your hand shoots down to to tug at Aemond’s silver tresses.

You’re so close, you’ve never been touched like this before and one final glide of his tongue pushes you over the edge. You cry out loudly as you cum, your vision going blurry as your cunt contracts around him.

Aemond pulls himself from your core and stands up, grabbing your hips. He harshly pulls you to the edge of the bed and you feel his cock pressing against you. You eagerly push towards him this time. There is no point in fighting him. You gasp as he enters you fully, filling you completely. The stretch is overwhelming, a tight burning sensation. The fullness begins to feel good as your silky walls flutter around him.

“Just relax,” he coos, “I know you want me.”

You feel his cock twitch inside you slightly as he groans, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

“Fuuuck,” he drawls, “you’re so tight and wet, baby, so perfect; just like I dreamed you would be.”

Your cheeks bloom crimson at his praise and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him tightly as he fucks into you. The sharp pain soon fades into pleasure. The fat tip of his cock relentlessly bullies that sweet spot inside you that you were never able to reach on your own.

Aemond reaches up to paw at your breast, pinching at your nipple roughly, and a wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your spine tingles and your toes curl, causing you to moan in response.

"You think Stark could fuck you like this? Make you feel the way I do? That anyone could?" He rasps as his thrusts become relentless. He slaps your face when you fail to give him an answer. A shameful whimper escapes you.

"Answer. Me." he demands between thrusts, his teeth gritted together, his thumb swiping over the rosy, delicate flesh where he hit you.

“N-no, Aemond! Only you, just you! I'm sorry!” you all but choke out to him.

“That’s right, my sweet. You were fuckin’ made for me,” he grunts before pausing his thrusts, his hips stuttering before he pulls his cock out of you almost entirely. Making note of the blood that coats his shaft, hoping you don’t notice.

“You know it, I know it, your mother knows it,” he grits out, “you’re mine.”

“Yes, Aemond, I’m — fuck! I’m yours,” you mewl.

“Do you love me?" he asks, your mind is hazy, and stars blur your vision as he continues to drill into you. Even while he is taking control, his insecurity still has a way of shining through his cruel demeanor.

You loved him once, long ago. Maybe you could love him again? You know the answer he is looking for is not ‘maybe.’

"Kessa, Avy jorrāelan." Yes, I love you.

Aemond grins at this, impressed with your knowledge of your shared mother tongue.

He slams his cock into you full force, stilling as he presses hard against your cervix, making you cry out again. His hand tangles in your hair as he places his forehead against yours.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he tells you.

You grip at his hips, pulling him into you.

“C-cum inside me,” you moan through bated breaths, “claim me as your own, once and for all.”

“You’ve always been mine,” he says as he complies, pushing into you deeply as he shoots his hot cum inside of you, warmth blooming in your chest as he does so; before collapsing on top of you.

“What happens now?” you ask, as he gently pulls himself out of your heat, allowing his seed to seep onto the bed sheets.

“This is just the beginning.”

3K notes · View notes

belit0 · 3 months ago

Note

Uchiha with their wife right after she gives birth?

I swear, anything related to these dummies as dads melts me because it's one of the few rare moments where I can write them as vulnerable. I live for it.

Indra

Indra had never known fear. He had led legions, toppled empires, carved his name into the very bones of the world, and yet—this moment undid him.

He sat beside (Y/N) with a stiffness that betrayed his discomfort, not with her, but with himself. He was a being of power, of control, and yet control had meant nothing as he had watched her body break itself open to bring forth new life. He had not fought this battle for her, could not, and that knowledge unsettled him.

His hand hovered above her, uncertain, then finally lowered to brush damp hair from her face. -Try resting now,- he murmured, but even he could hear the uselessness of the suggestion.

Still, he did not move away.

When the midwives had cleaned her, she had reached for him—not just in exhaustion, but in expectation. And Indra, for the first time, did not disappoint. He had taken a cloth, warm and damp, and wiped the sweat from her skin. He had pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders. When her throat had been too dry to speak, he had lifted a cup to her lips, his fingers steady despite the unfamiliarity of the act.

Now, as she cradled their child, Indra found himself at war with something he could not name. His hands, hands that had torn kingdoms asunder, curled into fists at his sides.

-Hold them,- she whispered.

Indra hesitated. The child was so… small. His entire existence had been carved from might, from standing above all others, and yet here was something so fragile it made his breath catch. And when he finally took the newborn into his arms, adjusting with careful precision, something in him—something ancient, something long-forgotten—softened.

(Y/N) watched him, smiling. -You’re doing fine.-

Indra did not reply. He merely held his child, unblinking, as if memorizing every detail. And when (Y/N) finally drifted into exhausted sleep, he did not set the child down. He remained where he was, holding them as though the world itself depended on it.

Madara

Madara had seen her bleed before.

Battle wounds. Training injuries. Superficial cuts that had once been no more than a passing inconvenience. But this—this had been different.

(Y/N) had gritted her teeth through the pain, had clutched his hand when the worst of it came, and Madara had felt useless. Power could not ease her suffering, could not lessen her burden, and it had infuriated him.

Now, the battle was over, but the exhaustion in her limbs, the deep ache settling into her bones—that, he could help with.

He sat beside her, their newborn resting between them, and with slow, deliberate care, he reached for her hand. -Time to eat.-

Like any great warrior, Madara prepared for this battle before it even began, ensuring that (Y/N) wouldn’t have to worry about anything at all. Food was ready, only needing to be heated—prepared exclusively by him the night before the birth, too nervous to lie down and rest while his wife began to dilate.

Warm broth, rice, something easy on her stomach. Not much, but enough.

She gave him a tired smile. -Did you make this yourself?-

Madara huffed. -Do you think I can’t?- But he still lifted the spoon, bringing it to her lips with patience few had ever seen from him.

Between quiet bites, her gaze softened. -You’re not looking at me.-

Because he wasn’t. He was staring at the child—their child—who lay swaddled in soft fabric, their tiny face relaxed in sleep. It was as if he couldn’t stop staring.

(Y/N) exhaled, amused. -Madara.-

-I was afraid,- he admitted. It was not something he had ever said aloud.

She squeezed his hand. -I know.-

He finally looked at her then, and when she reached for their child, he helped her, adjusting their swaddle with careful precision. His hands, so accustomed to wielding weapons, now protected something infinitely more precious.

-Sleep,- he told her, pressing a rare, lingering kiss to her temple. -I’ll be here when you wake.-

Izuna

Izuna paced. He couldn’t help it. His body still buzzed with restless energy, as if he needed to fight something, someone—except the battle was over, and the only thing before him was a future he hadn’t quite figured out how to hold.

-You’re making me dizzy,- (Y/N) murmured, voice hoarse but amused.

Izuna stopped immediately. -Sorry.-

He was at her side instantly, slipping onto the bedding without a care for propriety. -How are you feeling?-

-Like I had a child.-

-Ah.- He grinned. -Fair.-

Then his gaze fell to the bundle in her arms, and for once, Izuna was silent.

(Y/N) watched him, then reached for his wrist, pulling him forward. -Hold them.-

-I— He hesitated. Izuna Uchiha, hesitant? It was absurd.

-You’re not going to break them,- she teased.

He shot her a look. -Not so sure about that.- But still, he let her guide his hands, adjusting until the baby settled against his chest.

A deep breath. His arms tightened instinctively.

-Oh, you’re so tiny,- he whispered, his usual teasing edge softened by awe. Then, grinning, he glanced at (Y/N). -You sure they’re mine? They're not screaming or using special eyes to win over daddy.—

She laughed, exhausted but delighted. -Give them time.-

Izuna chuckled, but when the baby made a soft noise—half a sigh, half a whimper—his entire body stilled. His grin faded into something quieter, something real.

-Hey, kid,- he murmured, voice dropping lower. -We’re gonna have fun, you and me.- He glanced at (Y/N), mischief flickering in his gaze. -Your mother’s already scolding me. She’s been doing it for years.-

(Y/N) yawned, tired, but thrilled with this new side Izuna was displaying. -And I’ll keep doing it if you don’t behave.-

Izuna smirked. -No promises.-

But when (Y/N) shifted, too tired to banter further, he stepped closer, his free arm slipping around her shoulders. And for a while, they simply stayed like that—her, resting against him, their child safe between them.

Izuna had nowhere else to be. This is home.

Obito

Obito couldn’t sit still. He tried—really tried—but his leg kept bouncing, his fingers drummed restlessly against the blankets, his breath came a little too fast, a little too uneven.

He wasn’t sure what to do.

(Y/N) had just done all of that—had just gone through all of that—and he’d been utterly useless. He had held her hand, whispered encouragements, kissed her forehead, but he wasn’t the one who had fought through the pain, wasn’t the one who had pushed and bled and won.

And now there was a baby.

His baby.

(Y/N) reached for his hand—because of course she noticed, she always noticed—and gave it a weak squeeze. -Obito.-

He forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. -I’m fine.-

She arched a brow. -Liar.-

He let out a shaky laugh. -Okay, maybe I’m freaking out just a little bit.- He ran a hand through his hair, still ruffled from where he had kept tugging at it during the labor. -What if I mess up? What if I drop them? What if—

-Obito.-

He blinked.

She held out their child, cradled in her arms, and his heart stopped.

He had always been clumsy, always a little too much, never quite as graceful or effortless as the others. But when he reached for the baby, his hands were steady. Careful.

And when he held them—when they made the tiniest noise and curled into his warmth—his entire world tilted on its axis.

His throat tightened. -Oh.-

(Y/N) smiled. -See? You’re fine.-

He swallowed. I don’t deserve this.

But as the baby yawned, tiny and perfect, Obito exhaled and let himself have it. Just this once.

Shisui

Shisui was already in the bed, stretched out beside (Y/N) like he belonged there, an arm gently resting on the newborn's back, feeling their breathing, the other propping his head up as he gazed at her with something dangerously close to wonder.

-I knew you were amazing,- he murmured, voice warm with something deeper than flirtation. -But this? You keep finding ways to make me fall harder.-

(Y/N) let out a tired laugh. -I think you’re just easy.-

Shisui grinned. -For you? Always.-

It wasn’t empty charm, wasn’t some passing line he would forget by morning. It was the kind of effortless affection that had always been him—the way he made love feel like the most natural thing in the world.

He shifted, reaching over to adjust the blankets around her, fingers brushing over her skin like he needed the reassurance that she was still there, still his.

-You did so well,- he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. -I’ve never been so in love with you.-

(Y/N) hummed, drowsy but pleased. -You say that every day.-

Shisui smirked. -And I’ll say it again tomorrow.-

Then his gaze dropped to the newborn, and his teasing softened into something quieter. He traced the tiniest fingertip with his own, watching in awe as the baby curled against (Y/N)’s chest, utterly content.

He exhaled. -You’re perfect,- he murmured, and for once, the words weren’t meant for (Y/N).

As (Y/N) drifted off, too tired to keep her eyes open, Shisui stayed awake, guarding them both with a quiet devotion that needed no words.

Itachi

Itachi had spent his entire life holding himself together.

Logic over emotion. Strategy over impulse.

But right now, there was no logic to anchor him. No control.

His hands were shaking.

(Y/N) was resting, exhaustion pulling her into sleep, but Itachi hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. He was still sitting on the edge of the bed, still staring at their child with something close to disbelief.

They were so small.

He had spent years mastering his own mind, his own body, but this? He couldn’t make sense of it. Couldn’t reconcile the war inside him.

Terror. Relief. Overwhelming, soul-crushing love.

(Y/N) stirred, barely conscious, and Itachi flinched.

Her hand found his. -Itachi.-

He inhaled sharply, but didn’t answer.

(Y/N) opened her eyes just enough to take him in—the tension in his shoulders, the unnatural stillness of his body, the way his fingers twitched as if wanting to do something but not knowing what.

And then, gently, she whispered, -It’s okay.-

The dam broke.

He made a sound—a sharp inhale, a shuddering exhale. His entire body curled forward, his forehead pressing against her shoulder as his breath came too fast, too uneven.

He never broke. Never let himself. But right now, in this moment, there was nothing left to hold back.

He had been terrified. Still was.

(Y/N) shifted as much as she could, lifting weak fingers to his hair, threading through it with an exhausted kind of patience.

Their child made a tiny sound, and Itachi flinched again, sitting up so fast it was as if he’d been burned.

And then, for the first time, he reached out.

He didn’t breathe until his fingers met soft, warm skin.

Didn’t move until the baby shifted, adjusting into his touch like they knew him, like they trusted him.

A sharp exhale.

And then, finally, his first words since the birth:

-I don’t deserve this.-

(Y/N) let her eyes drift shut again, trusting him in ways he still didn’t understand. -You do.-

He wasn’t sure if she was awake enough to hear him when he finally whispered back:

-I will spend my entire life proving you right.-

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moonlightwritingf1 · 3 months ago

Text

Between Pain and Pleasure | LN4

♥ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N is on her period and suffering from cramps, so Lando suggests having sex to help ease the pain—she agrees.

♥ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

♥ word count ━━━━━━━ 2.5k

♥ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, soft sex, period blood

Based on this request.

The warm glow of the Monaco sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lando’s apartment. Y/N sat curled up on the plush white sofa, a blanket draped over her legs, a heating pad pressed against her abdomen. Her eyes were slightly narrowed, her lips pursed as she tried to ignore the persistent ache that had been nagging her all day. Of course, she thought, this had to happen while I was here. She glanced over at Lando, who was sprawled on the floor in front of her, his attention glued to the TV as his fingers idly drummed on his knee. He caught her gaze and smirked, his eyes sparkling with that trademark mischief that always made her stomach flutter—even when it was already tied in knots.

“You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low and playful. He leaned back on his hands, his gaze lingering on her. “Is it the cramps or me that’s got you looking so intense?”

She rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t flatter yourself, Norris. It’s definitely the cramps.”

“Ouch,” he said, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “And here I was, thinking I could distract you from your mortal enemy.”

Y/N laughed softly, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “You’re not that good.”

“Not that good?” he repeated, feigning shock. He crawled toward her on his hands and knees, his smirk widening as he reached the edge of the sofa. “I seem to recall a certain someone begging me to—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her cheeks flushing as she swatted at his shoulder. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he shot back, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. He moved to sit beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he reached for the heating pad. “How’s the pain? Still bad?”

She hesitated, her guard slipping for just a moment. “It’s… manageable,” she admitted. “But it’s still there. Like a dull ache that won’t quit.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, his hand resting lightly on her thigh. “You know,” he began, his voice casual, “I read somewhere that sex can help with cramps.”

Her eyes widened, her face heating up even more. “What?”

“Yeah,” he continued, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell. “Something about endorphins and muscle relaxation. Plus, it’s a great distraction.”

Y/N stared at him, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find the right words. “Are you… are you seriously suggesting we have sex right now?”

He shrugged, his expression innocent—though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “I’m just saying, it’s an option. If you’re comfortable with it, of course.”

She looked away, her mind racing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—their chemistry was undeniable, and she’d never felt more connected to anyone in her life. But the idea of being so vulnerable, of letting him see her like this, made her stomach twist in knots. “I… I don’t know, Lando. It’s… it’s messy. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”

“Hey,” he interrupted softly, his hand cupping her chin and gently turning her face back toward him. “First of all, I don’t have to do anything. And second, I want you—all of you. Periods are natural, Y/N. They’re part of life. And if having sex with me can make you feel even a little better, then I’m all for it.”

His words were so sincere, so unexpected, that for a moment, she could only stare at him. How does he always know the right thing to say? she wondered, her heart swelling with affection. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “But… Can we be careful? I don’t want to ruin your sheets.”

Lando grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. “I’ll put a towel down,” he promised. “Now, come on.”

He stood, offering her his hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet, and followed him down the hall to the bedroom. The room was bathed in the same warm, golden light as the living room, the bed neatly made with crisp white sheets. Lando grabbed a towel from the ensuite bathroom and spread it out in the center of the bed, then turned to her with a mischievous grin.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

She nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. Lando stepped closer, his hands sliding around her waist as he leaned in to kiss her. His lips were soft but insistent, his tongue brushing against hers as he deepened the kiss. Y/N sighed into him, her hands coming up to rest on his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to tug the shirt over his head, his muscles flexing as he tossed it aside. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes roamed over his bare chest, her fingers itching to touch him. Lando didn’t make her wait—he reached for the hem of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head in one smooth motion. Her bra followed, leaving her exposed to the warm air and his heated gaze.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, teasing them into hard peaks, and she couldn’t suppress the soft moan that escaped her lips. Lando smirked, clearly pleased with himself, and leaned in to capture one of her nipples in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

“Lando…” she breathed, her head falling back as sensation rippled through her. His hands moved to the waistband of her leggings, sliding them down her legs along with her underwear. She stepped out of them, standing naked before him, her cheeks flushed but her gaze steady.

Lando’s hands slid down her back, his touch firm yet tender as he guided her onto the bed. Her body sank into the softness of the mattress, her ass and pussy resting on the towel he’d laid out earlier. He removed his trousers and boxers before climbing over her, his weight pressing her into the bed in a way that made her breath hitch. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and hungry, before he leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss that was both demanding and achingly sweet.

His mouth moved with purpose, leaving no part of her untouched. He kissed her deeply, his tongue tangling with hers, before trailing down her jawline, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her shiver. His lips found her neck, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she let out a soft moan, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling as his mouth continued its descent. He paused at her collarbone, nipping lightly before moving lower, his tongue flicking over one nipple while his hand cupped the other. He teased her relentlessly, licking and sucking until her chest heaved with every breath, her hips arching instinctively toward him.

“You taste so good,” he murmured against her skin, his voice rough with desire. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve as if he were memorizing her all over again. She could feel the heat of him, the hardness of his cock pressing against her thigh, and it only fueled the fire building inside her.

He shifted slightly, his lips finding hers once more, and she kissed him back with everything she had, her hands sliding down his back to grip his hips. The world outside ceased to exist—there was only Lando, his touch, his scent, the way he made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered.

Lando’s lips never left hers as his body shifted, settling between her thighs. His hand slid down her stomach, guiding himself to her entrance. She was already wet, her body responding to him despite the dull ache in her abdomen. He groaned softly, the tip of his cock dragging slowly through her folds, slick with her arousal. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire. “Always so ready.”

She gasped, her hips lifting instinctively toward him, craving the sensation of him teasing her like this. The way he moved—slow, deliberate—sent shivers up her spine, the heat of him igniting every nerve. “Lando…” Her voice was a whisper, trembling with need and vulnerability.

He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, dark and intense. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his tone gentle but laced with hunger. “I’ll go slow, okay? Just for you.”

She nodded, her breath hitching as he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust. Her walls clenched around him, warm and tight, and he let out a low groan, his forehead resting against hers. “God, you feel incredible,” he breathed, his voice rough. “So fucking perfect.”

Y/N’s hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she felt him fill her completely. Despite the cramps, there was something different about this—something deeper, more intense. Her body was more sensitive, every nerve alight with sensation, and the way he moved inside her sent shivers up her spine. “It feels… so good,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You feel so good.”

Lando kissed her deeply, his tongue sliding against hers as he began to move, his pace slow and deliberate. Each thrust was deep, measured, his hips rolling against hers in a rhythm that made her toes curl. He was careful, mindful of her discomfort, but the intensity of their connection was undeniable. “You’re so tight,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear. “So warm. I could stay like this forever, just feeling you around me.”

Her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, and she arched into him, meeting each thrust with a soft moan. The friction was exquisite, the way he filled her completely, hitting spots that made her gasp and tremble. “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible. “Please, don’t stop.”

“Never,” he promised, his voice steady despite the strain in his muscles. He kept his pace slow, savoring every moment, every sensation. His hands roamed her body, cupping her breasts, sliding down her sides, gripping her hips as he drove into her again and again. “You’re everything,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin. “Everything.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, her body surrendering to the pleasure he was giving her. The cramps were still there, but they were distant now, overshadowed by the way he made her feel—cherished, desired, loved. “Lando…” Her voice was a broken sigh, her fingers tangling in his hair as she held him close.

He kissed her again, his movements never faltering, his rhythm steady and deep. The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the soft slap of skin against skin, the occasional moan or whimper that escaped her lips. It was intimate, raw, and utterly consuming.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice low and possessive, yet tender. “All mine.”

And in that moment, she believed him.

She clutched at his back, her nails digging into his skin as he thrust into her, hitting that spot inside her that made her see stars. Her moans mingled with his, their bodies moving together in a rhythm that was uniquely theirs. She could feel the tension building within her again, her orgasm rushing toward her with every thrust.

“Lando, I’m… I’m going to—”

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go.”

Her body tensed, every muscle coiled tight as the wave of pleasure surged through her. She gasped, her back arching off the bed, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as if she could anchor herself to him. Her walls clenched around him, pulsing rhythmically, drawing him deeper with each contraction. “Lando!” His name tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered, a sound that was part plea, part surrender.

He groaned, low and guttural, his hips jerking as he felt her tighten around him. The sensation was overwhelming, her heat and wetness pulling him closer to the edge. “Fuck, Y/N,” he rasped, his voice strained, his forehead pressed against hers. His thrusts became erratic, losing their steady rhythm as he chased his own release. “You feel… so fucking good.”

She whimpered, her body still trembling from the aftershocks, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, urging him on. “Don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice shaky but insistent. “Please, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. With one final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock throbbing as he came. A strangled moan escaped his lips, his body shuddering above hers as he spilled into her pussy, his release hot and intense. For a moment, they were both lost in it, their breaths mingling, their bodies fused together in the aftermath.

Slowly, the tension ebbed away, leaving them both spent and breathless. Lando collapsed onto her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his chest heaving against hers. He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin in soft, lazy kisses. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction and something deeper—something that made her heart swell.

She ran her fingers through his damp hair, her touch gentle, her body still humming with the echoes of pleasure. “So are you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. They lay there for a while, tangled together, the world outside forgotten. In that moment, there was only them—their shared warmth, their quiet breaths, the unspoken bond that had just grown stronger.

Lando shifted, his body still warm and heavy against hers. He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes dark but soft as he looked down at her. “Don’t move,” he murmured, his voice low and tender. She nodded, her breath still uneven, her body humming with the aftermath of what they’d just shared.

Carefully, he pulled out of her, a soft groan escaping his lips as his cock slid free. The mix of his cum and her period blood trickled out, staining the towel beneath them. Lando didn’t flinch or hesitate—he simply pressed a kiss to her forehead before climbing off the bed.

She watched him walk to the bathroom, his movements unhurried, his bare back glistening faintly in the dim light. He returned moments later with a clean towel, damp and warm. Kneeling beside her, he gently wiped her thighs, his touch careful and deliberate. His fingers brushed over her skin, not just cleaning but soothing, as if he were erasing any trace of discomfort.

“There,” he said softly, tossing the towel aside. He leaned down, his lips grazing her temple. “Feel better?”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. The way he looked at her—like she was everything—made her chest tighten. “Yes,” she whispered finally, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her. “Much better.”

A slow smile spread across his face, that familiar teasing glint returning to his eyes. “Good,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

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jinwoosungs · 4 months ago

Text

01/20/25; 07:11pm

vi(olet) x fem.reader | modern au

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

alternate title: the five times you realized she has always loved you.

you couldn’t find the right term to describe your relationship with violet.

from an outsider’s perspective, they would simply label you as two girls who were the best of friends. sure, there were times where vi got a little too overprotective when it came to shielding you from your shitty exes-

but that’s what friends were supposed to do, right?

yet deep down, there was something nagging at the back of your mind. when you found out dirk was cheating on you, vi had made it her personal mission to beat the ever living shit out of him before proceeding to erase his contact information from your phone. she had no intention of telling you what she had done, but seeing dirk kneeling in front of your apartment door the very next day while begging you to keep vi away from him was more than enough proof that your best friend had willingly defended you.

the memory of it all was enough to cause a surge of heat to course through you. as you look down at your coffee, you couldn’t help but search through your memories, thinking back on specific moments where vi seemed to be there for you when you needed her the most…

i. becoming your roommate to help with paying the rent.

when you texted vi, telling her about the emergency you were facing the moment your roommate moved out, she had appeared at your place in just a few minutes. as evident from the sweat that ran down her forehead, it was clear that she had rushed over to you during your time of need.

with an apologetic expression on your face, you offer her a bottle of water and sit next to her on the couch. “any idea why your roomie moved?”

“she had a new job offer, and it’s located an hour away. i would have been more okay with the move had she at least paid her half of the rent for this month.” you sigh while twirling at the ends of your hair, listening to vi take a swig of her bottle before telling you, “how about i move in with you instead?”

vi’s casual question makes you do a double take, meeting her gaze with your wide eyes, “but… aren’t you living with your sister right now?”

she shrugs while taking another drink, “we’ve both got steady incomes, and she can take care of herself. in fact, i have a feeling she’s counting down the days where she can have the place all to herself.”

“b-but-“

setting aside the now emptied bottle of water, vi places a fingertip against your lips, “hush, cupcake. let me do this for you so you don’t have to worry about a damn thing. i’ll be completely moved in by next week, and you don’t have to worry about running behind on rent.”

a surge of hope courses through you, and you felt each and every one of your worries melt away amidst vi’s grin. unable to hold back your joy any longer, you toss your arms around her neck, nuzzling against her soft, magenta locks of hair, “oh vi, you’re the best! i love you so much!”

you felt the way your best friend suddenly stiffens from within your embrace, causing you to furrow your eyebrows slightly before relaxing when vi lets out an exhale.

“i love you, too.”

you wouldn’t realize the depths of her response until much later.

ii. staying by your side when you suffered from a bad fever.

there was something wrong with you.

your body felt too hot-

your stomach too nauseated as you could barely hold down the sips of water you had taken throughout the night. as you lay shivering and aching in bed, you had barely gotten a wink of sleep when night slowly morphs into the morning.

vi was already active, hearing her footsteps around the kitchen as she brewed her morning coffee. along with the coffee came the sounds of sizzling bacon as the scents of vi cooking breakfast made your stomach churn in response. you swallow thickly, trying to fight back the urge to vomit as you remain curled up in bed.

after what felt like an eternity, you heard gentle knocks coming from your door before vi reveals herself. “hey sleepyhead, it’s time to get up.”

you only manage a whimper in response, causing vi to take quick strides into your room. tossing back your comforter, she sees you huddled up in a fetal position, your face appearing damp with sweat as your bleary eyes met with her gaze.

she lets out a gasp of your name, kneeling beside you on your bed, “damn, you’re burning up with a fever. hang on-“

yet you stop her from leaving, taking comfort in her presence and the scent of her shampoo (the scent of lavender), “don’t leave… need… you…”

her blue eyes were filled with uncertainty, brimming with concern, yet you didn’t relent. “please… i couldn’t sleep last night because… i felt so shitty… and you feel so warm.”

in the end, she caves in to your exhausted demands, laying down next to you while wrapping her arms around your waist. she allows you to hide your face within the curve of her neck, basking in your soft breaths while running a hand through your damp hair, “you need to take some medicine… and eat something, you know that right.”

you hum, burying your face against her shoulder, “hmph… later… sleep… first…”

and with you clinging to her, you were blissfully unaware of how much her heart was racing from your close proximity.

iii. spending late nights with you during your days off.

when you told vi how you were eager to spend your day off with her, your best friend joins you in your happiness. with your favorite takeout already ordered, you settle back on the couch with her, trading the boxes of food with her with little regard to sharing your utensils with her.

with a series of your favorite movies playing on the screen, you bask in the way vi makes jokes with each scene, earning a series of giggles from you in between your bites of food. as the hours ticked by, you cuddle next to vi on the couch, sharing your blanket with her while basking in her warmth.

while you sit next to her, you felt a strange warmth within your chest, your attention slowly waning from the movie that was playing as you found yourself sneaking glances at her.

her blue eyes were focused on the screen, and you allowed your gaze to trace at the fullness of her lips while admiring the freckles that dotted against her cheeks along with the tattoo of her name. your hand itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her-

to frame at her face while your lips descended upon her in a sweet kiss-

yet you quickly banish those intrusive thoughts, slightly moving away from her on the couch. you cough the moment vi looked back at you, seeing her eyebrows raised in question at your sudden shift.

but instead of calling you out on it, vi places an arm around your shoulder, pulling you back to her before returning her gaze toward the screen.

she never once removed her hand from your shoulder for the rest of the night.

iv. buying a gorgeous necklace for your birthday.

after gorging yourself on a delicious dinner and some cake, vi pours you a glass of your favorite champagne as you both celebrated another year well spent.

“you’re finally twenty two, how are you feeling, cupcake?”

you roll your eyes at her nickname for you, taking sips of your champagne with a smile on your face. “i can’t complain. but i gotta say, it’s much better to share my special day with my bestie.”

a flash of something was seen in violet’s eyes, yet just as soon as it appears, it was replaced with a carefree expression. vi smirks at you, running a hand through her hair while rolling her eyes, “well, i can’t complain about spending the day with you, either.”

she tells you with a hum before setting her champagne glass off to the side. while you distracted yourself with finishing off your champagne, you were unaware of how violet had one more surprise for you.

you met her gaze when she calls your name, and you face forward to see a neatly wrapped present settled within the palm of her hand. “wha- vi, you didn’t need to get anything for me.”

“i know, but i wanted to.” she tells you with a shrug, handing you the present. your throat clogs up with emotion as you carefully tore open the gold wrapping, unraveling the silver ribbon as you revealed a velvet box. opening the box, you gasp at the sight of the gorgeously crafted necklace settled within the cushion.

it’s rose gold chain held a pendent that was of a rose made entirely of a pink tourmaline gemstone. the brilliant hue reminds you of violet’s startling hair as your hands trembled while picking it up. you were at a loss for words when you silently held the necklace out to vi, beckoning her to help you put it on.

with a tiny smile gracing her features, she takes the necklace and scoots closer to you on the couch. your back was facing her, and you remain still when she moves your hair away. you sensed a bit of hesitancy from her, only to stiffen slightly at the sensation of something soft pressing against the back of your neck.

yet as quickly as the sensation appeared, it was gone within an instant, replaced with the feeling of a slender chain surrounding your neck before being clasped into place.

“happy birthday.” you felt vi whisper within your ear, setting your heart aflame as you found yourself slowly falling for your best friend…

{ … }

you gasp when you felt vi ruffling at your hair, breaking you out of your reveries as she steps into the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “hey, what are you spacing out for?”

you swallow thickly, staring at vi and how she was dressed in a sports bra with a loose pair of sweats. your heart begins to pound at the mere sight of her, and your hands now ached with a desire to run through her hair as she kissed you senseless-

“i love you.” you suddenly blurt out to her without meaning to, feeling the heat against your cheeks when she tilts her head back at you. taking a sip of her coffee, vi sits across from you while giving you a grin. “i love you, too.”

“n-no, that’s not it. i-“ you were trembling now, “i mean i love you, what i feel for you is something more than mere friendship. a-and i realize that you’ve always loved me, too.”

vi’s true blue eyes go wide for a brief moment before she shoves her cup of coffee to the side, the dark liquid spilling against your shared dining room when she takes quick strides toward you.

you let out a gasp when she picks you up, crushing your body to hers, “it’s about damn time, cupcake.”

her hands were wrapped tightly around your waist as she carries you effortlessly back into her bedroom, slamming her door shut before laying you back against her bed. no words were spoken when vi surges forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

you moan the moment vi gently sweeps her tongue within your mouth, tasting you fully while allowing her hands to descend upon your oversized shirt. she lifts the large fabric from your body, tossing it aside as you were left with your breasts bare for her. with only a flimsy pair of panties covering your center, vi shudders while hovering over you. “you’re so damn pretty and perfect, princess. i’ve loved you ever since the day i first met you.”

your breathing hitches when you felt vi dip her hand between your legs, traveling within the waistband of your panties to trace at your slick heat. “i was so hopelessly in love with you that i tricked myself into believing that your friendship was enough- but it’s not enough anymore.”

in the midst of her confession, you feel her fingers sliding into your aching core, gasping when she pumps them in and out of you. the squelching sounds of your walls eagerly taking in her gentle ministrations echo throughout the room. “v-vi, oh my god, vi!”

“do you know what you just did, princess? now, i’ll never be able to leave you. you belong to me as much as i belong to you now… and nothing will ever change that.”

she sighs, removing her fingers from your soaked cunt, admiring the shiny quality of them before licking off the evidence of your arousal. she makes a show of cleaning her fingertips, causing you to press your legs together when you felt your walls clench painfully at the sight.

“you taste so fucking good, princess.” letting out a sigh of your name, vi spreads your legs, hands gripping at your panties before taking them off of you. once you were left bare for her, vi settles herself between your thighs with her lips engulfed over the entirety of your center.

your back arches against the bed, with you crying out to her as your hands delver themselves into her hair. she devours you like a woman starved, drinking everything you had to offer while introducing a finger within your slick heat. your back arches against the bed as you grind yourself on her face, losing all of your senses each time she gently pinches down at your swollen clit.

minutes later, you release yourself into her awaiting mouth, feeling her low moans send pleasurable vibrations across your body. “mmm, my sweet little cupcake…”

vi’s sultry voice sends shivers down your spine, with your mind going hazy. you became dimly aware of how she sheds off the rest of her clothes, not stopping until she remains just as bare as you before wrapping her legs around your own. the sensation of her swollen clit rubbing against yours makes you toss your head back in response, allowing vi to pin you against the bed as she finally acted on her desires for you.

and as you built on each other’s pleasure, you knew that your respective feelings had always been requited within this very moment.

end notes: an unedited fluff / thirst post pertaining to vi. i understand how hot she is, i truly do 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#violet x reader #violet smut #violet x y/n #violet x you #violet arcane #vi smut #vi x reader #vi x you #vi x y/n #arcane x reader #vi arcane #writings 📖

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doumadono · 7 months ago

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Warnings: fwb, finger fucking, period s*x, mentions of blood

Synopsis: navigating your period is never a walk in the park, especially with Dabi, your usual source of comfort, off base. Fortunately, your other friend with benefits is available. The question lingers - will your boss be willing to help ease your anxiety?

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

The dull ache had been gnawing at you for hours, twisting deep in your stomach and making it impossible to get comfortable, no matter how many times you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders or curled up smaller on the couch. You’d tried everything, maybe a little bit of everything at once, hoping that something - anything - might finally distract you from the constant cramping that made you restless, edgy, and worse, needy. That feeling always came with the ache, twisting at you with a constant want to feel something warm, something grounding against your skin.

Dabi, your usual go-to for comfort during times like these, had vanished again - off on one of his mysterious escapades. Bastard. He was off God knows where, doing who knows what, and while you wanted to curse him for vanishing at the worst possible time without even letting you know, your mind was already drifting to the only other person you trusted for this sort of comfort.

Tomura Shigaraki. The leader of the League of Villains, and your second friend with benefits.

His door was slightly ajar, a faint blue glow casting just enough light to outline his silhouette. Shigaraki sat splayed out on the bed, his room dim, save for the flickering screen that illuminated his focused expression. His hands moved expertly over the controller, his gaze locked onto the game with an intensity that made him seem unreachable - detached, in that familiar way.

You lingered in the doorway, feeling the dull ache low in your stomach pulse, the discomfort pulling at you. “Boss…” you murmured, stepping in quietly, letting the door click softly shut behind you. You padded over, slipping under his arm, tucking yourself against him as you nuzzled into his chest. His familiar scent washed over you, grounding you somehow, and for a moment, you just stayed there, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing as you sank into his warmth.

Shigaraki shifted slightly, adjusting his grip on the controller, and gave a low, exasperated sigh. “What is it?” His voice was low, his eyes still fixed on the screen, and though he hadn’t yet acknowledged you fully, the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a piece of his attention that was aimed at you.

“Hurts,” you mumbled, pressing closer, your voice soft, barely more than a whisper. You buried your face against his shoulder, letting out a small whine. “Feels tight, uncomfortable. And Dabi isn’t around, so…”

A low chuckle escaped his lips, and he finally tore his gaze from the screen to look at you, his eyes gleaming with pity. “So you came to me because he’s not around, huh? What am I, second best?” he teased, though his fingers were already tracing along your waist, the corners of his mouth quirking into a smirk. “You’re interrupting my game.”

You pouted, curling against him tighter, your hand resting on his chest. “Can’t you help me just a little, boss?” Your voice was a soft plea, needy, and you could feel his chest rumble with a low chuckle as he set the controller aside, finally giving you his full attention.

“Help you, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, his fingers reaching up to trace along your hip, teasingly slow, his gaze wandering over your face, studying the faint flush in your cheeks, the way your eyes lingered on his mouth. “And how exactly am I supposed to help with that, Y/N? Indeed though, you look like you’re suffering,” he added quickly, his voice rough and low, a hint of amusement curling at the edge of his mouth. His fingers brushed along your exposed thigh as your skirt rode up, careful, as always, to keep one finger lifted. “Funny though. Dabi is busy, so you come crawling to me. Look how pathetic you are, Y/N.”

You bit your lip, giving him a look that was both pleading and lustful as you leaned in, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “Pretty please?” you murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his jaw, feeling the tension there as you let your lips linger. “It’s just cramping. I’m on my period,” you managed, feeling a wave of embarrassment rush through you, but he only narrowed his gaze, studying you as if you were some puzzle he wanted to solve.

“I guess I can help with that,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips, his hand trailing higher, his fingers ghosting along the waistband of your plain skirt.

Your breath hitched, and you bit your lip, the heat pooling low in your stomach twisting into something that made your whole body tighten with anticipation. “Tomura, but… I’m bleeding,” you reminded, your voice barely a whisper, half-expecting him to recoil, but instead, he only smirked, eyes darkening as he leaned in closer.

“Doesn’t bother me,” he replied, his tone laced with a dark, playful edge. “Blood never has.” A soft hum escaped him, his tone mocking, but there was a spark of interest in his eyes. His fingers pressed into the small of your back, guiding you forward with a firm, steady pressure, until you found yourself sitting on his lap, your back against his chest, his hands settling on your thighs. His grip was steady, demanding, and he leaned forward, his voice barely above a murmur as his breath brushed your ear. “Need attention that badly?”

Your heart pounded, cheeks flushed, but you felt yourself nodding, letting your arm drift up around his neck. “Maybe…” you managed, leaning back against him, feeling the press of his chest against your back, solid and steady.

His fingers kneaded the soft flesh of your thigh, slow and purposeful, sending a wave of heat through you that made your muscles tighten. His gaze flickered down as he watched your clothed pussy after he yanked the hem of your skirt up once more, his tone dropping to a murmur. “Then spread your legs wide f’me, like a good whore you are.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but you obeyed, shifting so your thighs opened slightly on either side of his, giving him access.

“Good girl.” His voice was a low murmur, edged with satisfaction, and his hand trailed higher, his breath warm against your neck. His fingers trailed along your inner thigh, tracing slow, lazy circles that made your breath catch, each touch sending sparks through your body. “Look at you,” he murmured, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he let his fingers drift higher. “Already desperate, aren’t you?” His calloused hand slipped between your thighs after he yanked the hems of your skirt up with the other hand, his touch rough yet cautious, the warmth of his fingers spreading as he traced gentle circles against the sensitive skin of your pantie-covered mound.

Your breath hitched when his fingers slipped beneath the silky fabric of your panties, warm and rough against the softness of your folds, already covered in a slick arousal mixed with blood, and it was impossible not to tense under his touch.

Shigaraki worked slowly, drawing it out, the pads of his fingers pressing in against your pussy lips just enough to make your body react - an involuntary clench of your tight hole around nothingness that sent a rush of heat to your face. You glanced away, but he seemed to notice every single shift in you, the way your breaths were coming quicker, shallower, under his attention.

His smirk was faint but unmistakable, an almost lazy satisfaction that he let settle between the two of you. “Warm,” he claimed matter-of-factly, and there was something about the way he said it that made the room feel even smaller, his voice scraping low and rough. His fingers brushed your panties aside, exposing your glistening pussy to the chill of the air for just a moment before his hand covered your slit again. He took his time, tracing a line up and down the slick slit with an infuriating slowness, his eyes never leaving your face as his fingers explored with an intensity that made your whole body start to tremble. He used his index and middle finger to spread your labia, smirking wryly as he spotted your hole clenching rhythmically. “Fucking whore. I bet you’re tight too, aren’t you, sweet rose?”

You swallowed hard, feeling your face heat up, a pout already forming as he kept that steady, infuriating pace. “It… it’s uncomfortable,” you mumbled, voice catching as his fingers pressed harder against your lips.

He leaned closer, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm against the skin of your neck as he watched a pink-tinted, lucid mucus effused out of your tight hole. “Cheap whore. You’re dripping wet. Spread your legs wider f’me.”

Before you knew it, you had one foot on his bed, and the other lazily hooked over his left knee, showing off your glistening pussy so openly and lewdly that you felt like you were doing a porn shoot. Your entire attention was focused on the way he stroked and caressed your slick labia.

Tomura’s finger probed your opening which was already wet with anticipation, then traced back to the top, caressing your swollen clitoris again. He repeated this motion, tracing down, probing you, picking up your slick, thick wetness, and trailing back up to caress your clit.

“Now, tell me where it hurts.”

You whimpered, feeling your legs start to tremble as his finger slipped inside your wet, tight pussy that easily opened to welcome the much wanted intrusion. The long digit was stretching you, filling you with a deliberate fullness that made your head spin. “Right… right there, boss,” you whispered, clutching at his knee with the free hand, feeling your body tighten, a warmth blossoming in your core that sent jolts of pleasure through every nerve, so the only thing you could do was to buck your hips more into his rough palm.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled softly, placing a faint kiss to the column of your neck as you rolled your head back, his fingers moving faster, rougher now, his control slipping as he watched you come undone beneath him. “So desperate, and all that just for me.”

You were moaning like a whore as Shigaraki’s fingers fought the slippery friction of your cunny grip as he slowly finger fucked your hole.

Carefully, the white haired man curled his fingers downward and rubbed the tender underside of your pubis with soft, circular strokes. “That’s it, bitch,” he praised.

You could feel yourself getting closer, the pleasure building, overwhelming, and he seemed to sense it, too. You whimpered as the muscles in your back, shoulders, arms, and ass tensed. “Oi, Tomura!”

He chuckled, his free hand gripping your titties through your tank top, holding you steady as he worked his fingers inside you, his pace steady but relentless. “There you go, bitch,” the leader of the League of Villains praised, his lips grazing the column of your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as his fingers curled, pressing against that perfect spot that made your body tense, and your breath hitch.

“Faster, faster,” you pleaded, grinding your hips so you rubbed your slick pussy lips against the heel of his rough palm.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” he continued, his voice a low growl as his fingers moved faster, his thumb pressing against your clit, tapping it a few times, sending jolts of pleasure through every nerve in your body. “Maybe next time, you’ll think about coming to me first.”

White haired man slipped another finger inside your bloody cunt, stretching you painfully as your core was super tight due to the period and cramps, filling you with a pure lust that made you gasp, your body arching as he pressed deeper, his thumb rubbing against your swollen clitoris. He grinned at your reaction, his finger curling inside you, hitting that perfect spongy spot that made your muscles clench, made your entire body tremble. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he murmured, adding yet another finger, pumping them in and out with a steady, deliberate rhythm that left you panting, your hips moving in time with his touch. He watched you, his gaze dark and hungry, a look of pure satisfaction crossing his face as you were falling apart beneath him. He didn’t seem bothered by the fact his protective glove was getting wet with your juices and blood.

His pace grew relentless, a rhythm that made you call out his name, on and on. The only sounds echoing around you were your soft mewls, a breathless symphony of pleasure, mingling with his low, breathy grunts. Each time the heel of his hand met your slick labia, it created a wet, lewd sound that punctuated the air of his bedroom.

You tried to close your legs when a massive orgasm crashed over you, leaving you trembling, but Tomura kept your legs open. He held you close, his fingers still moving slowly in and out of your abused hole, drawing out every last tremor, until you were left mumbling incoherently, breathless, completely undone in your boss’ lap.

You turned your upper body part in his arms, placing kitten kisses to his cheek and jaw, silently thanking him for relieving you.

When Tomura finally pulled his hand away, he looked down at the faint traces of blood mixed with cum smeared on his fingers. His nasty smirk widened.

Your body was still trembling, your mind hazy with pleasure as you watched Shigaraki, your breaths shallow as you tried to regain your composure.

But then, his eyes met yours, dark and steady, as he raised his hand to his mouth.

Heat flooded your cheeks, your heart racing as he brought his long fingers - slick with your arousal and faintly stained with traces of blood - toward his mouth. He paused, inhaling deeply as if savoring the scent of his quarry, embodying the essence of a predator assessing its prey. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he wrapped his cracked lips around his fingers, licking and sucking them clean, every movement intentional and tantalizing, his gaze never leaving your eyes. He hummed at the taste, palming himself through his pants without giving it a second thought.

You expected a grimace, maybe even a disgusted comment, but instead, his expression was one of dark satisfaction, his tongue tracing his fingers with an intensity that made your stomach flutter, that set your already sensitive nerves tingling all over again. The way he looked at you, like he was savoring every last taste, made a soft, shy whimper slip from your lips. You tried to avert your gaze, but it was impossible to look away from him, from that wicked, knowing smirk on his face.

“Something wrong?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though you could see the amusement in his eyes. “What, did you think I’d be grossed out?” His smirk widened as he leaned in close, his voice a low murmur that made you shiver as he kissed your nose.

You swallowed hard, your cheeks burning as you met his gaze, feeling a mix of embarrassment and undeniable excitement twist in your stomach.

He didn’t mind. He didn’t care about the blood, didn’t care that you’d practically begged him to touch you. He’d taken it all in stride, and the realization left you feeling both vulnerable and completely captivated by him.

You glanced away, feeling your cheeks flush as you tried to hide the shy smile threatening to show. The room felt smaller somehow, quiet, and his gaze on you felt heavy, like it held you in place. You could feel him watching you, studying every flicker in your expression, every nervous breath. Finally, you managed, “I… I just thought…”

Tomura cut you off, his voice soft but with that firm, unmistakable edge that left no room for protest. “You thought wrong,” he murmured, his hand resting just above your knee, his fingers brushing over your thigh in a way that sent an unmistakable spark through you. The warmth of his skin, the way his touch lingered, sent your heart racing, pulse pounding loud in the silence. He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, the warmth of his breath so close that it made you shiver. “If you’re coming to me for this,” he whispered, each word low, deliberate, “then you’d better be prepared. I don’t do it halfway.”

A thrill settled in your stomach at his words, twisting into something deep, something that left you breathless as his hand drifted higher, thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh. You bit your lip, trying to calm the heat spreading through you, but it was no use. There was an anticipation in the air, a tension that had you leaning in, your voice soft, playful, but with an edge of your own. “Guess I owe you… for helping me out like this.”

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of his eyes on you, the slight quirk of his brow that told you he was watching, waiting.

Without breaking eye contact, you slid off his lap, sinking to your knees on the floor in front of him, one hand finding the bulge that was already building beneath the fabric of his pants. You ran the tip of your tongue along your upper lip.

His eyes flickered, interest gleaming there, the corner of his mouth curving into a look that was more than a smirk but not quite a smile. It was something darker, something that lingered, his fingers reaching out to brush over your cheek, his thumb tracing along your jaw in a touch that was gentle, but expectant before he pressed the digit against your lips, watching you part them for him, sucking the finger in your mouth like a good, obedient whore you were. “Then I’ll be expecting that repayment soon,” he whispered, his voice like velvet, “Very soon.”

tagging: @baby--vera @unhinged-bratty-boy @shonen-brainrot @shionancientsblog @irkedpomeranian @within-eyesight @misafiryanki @cyberrthegreat @grossograsso @krabkornel @roast-toast @arthurbristow @alexandhisstuff @proherodabisballsack

#shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki smut #tomura shigaraki #my hero academia smut #tomura x reader #villain smut #bnha shigaraki #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x y/n #bnha smut #mha smut #anime smut #divider by cafekitsune #mha shigaraki #mha x reader #tomura x you #tomura x y/n

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little-wicked10 · 5 months ago

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buy me presents🎁

Summary: Soldier Boy can’t help his obsession with his little Beverly Hills beauty and spoils her for Christmas.

Warnings: Smut 18+, cursing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, daddy kink, sugar daddy vibes, possessive behavior, subspace, degrading, praise kink, creampie, and lots of other goodies🔞☃️

Notes: OBVIOUSLY inspired by “buy me presents” by Sabrina Carpenter. I went REALLY feral with this one🤭 Merry Christmas @jays-bonnie-on-the-side 🎄

“I sure wish you were coming here for Christmas, daddy,” she purred into the phone, twirling the cord around her manicured finger.

Ben groaned on the other end of the line, “Gonna get me hard on set, doll. Don’t be naughty. You know I got a shit ton of PR bullshit to do ‘round here.”

“I’m starting to think you don’t wanna buy me any presents,” she pouted her red lips.

His chuckle in her ear sent tingles across her skin, “I’m startin’ to think all you want is my black card.”

“That’s not true!” she playfully whined, “I want your dick too.”

Ben smirked, “I know you do, baby. Daddy’s been dyin’ without that sweet lil’ pussy on his dick, his mouth, his fingers.”

He was trying to tease her, but his plan backfired when he felt his dick strain in his pants. The little pathetic whimper he heard made it twitch. “Shit, you better not be playin’ with yourself!” he growled.

“N-No, I’m not, daddy. But, you’re being so mean and unfair,” she whined.

“I know, honey, I’m just a bastard, aren’t I?” his cocky tone made her groan in annoyance, “Keep bein’ nice, and Santa is gonna spoil the shit out of his Vixen.”

She moaned and rubbed her thighs together at the playful name. Damn Vought for making him work. Damn the modeling agency for making her work. She’d give anything to skip her latest photoshoots to be back in the arms of her Supe lover. It’s been weeks since the last time she was wrapped around him, and the ache was starting to get unbearable. Chills trickled down her spine remembering the way he slammed the head board of his Alaskan King bed into the plaster as he felt her creaming all over his pistoning cock. By the time she had to leave for Beverly Hills, the whole damn tower knew her name.

As the memories swirled in her lust riddled eyes, a whimper slipped from her painted lips. Ben’s deep groan pulled her from her thoughts. “Whatcha thinkin’ about, baby? Thinkin’ about how daddy had your naked body pressed against the cold glass of his penthouse last time you were here? ‘Cause I think about that all the time. How hard your nipples got, how our body heat fogged up the glass, how you soaked the carpet underneath us by the time I was done with ya,” he grabbed his bulge, “Bet those assholes in make up had a hell of a time coverin’ up all those hickeys.”

She clutched the phone tighter in her hand, panting and moaning into the receiver. He didn’t play fair. She wasn’t allowed to touch herself unless he said so, and he rarely said so. Soldier Boy was a glutton for her suffering and neediness, for those desperate pleas for sweet release. She only disobeyed him once, concluding he couldn’t possibly tell the difference, but he certainly did. The punishment was fucking herself on him while he didn’t do shit, simply sitting back and smoking a joint while she weakly tried to get off without his help. Absolute torture.

“Please, let me touch myself, daddy,” she whined pathetically, “Could be an early Christmas present.”

His laugh made a pit of disappointment settle in her stomach, “Nuh uh, sugar tits. You can wait till I get there next week.” Suddenly, there was the sound of voices in the background. The supe barked at them to fuck off he’d be there in a minute. “I gotta go, honey.”

She pouted, “Fine.”

“Be good, Vixen,” he chuckled, “Santa’s coming to town real soon.”

They were having way too much fun with the Christmas themed teasing.

It was around 10 o’clock the next night when a knock echoed through her empty home. She’d fallen asleep draped across the couch waiting on their nightly call. She yawned as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Adjusting her silk robe, she slipped off the couch and padded towards the door. She wondered who could possibly be knocking this late as she slipped down the main hallway. A familiar figure came into view, identity hidden by the frosty privacy glass around the door. She didn’t need to see his face to know who was standing on her front porch. A delighted squeal left her lips as she rushed towards the door and flung it open.

“Ho, Ho, Ho,” Ben smirked.

“You better not have any other ho’s,” she playfully scolded, “What are you doing here? I thought you had PR with Vought.”

“Yeah, I told those fuckers to gargle my ballsack I gotta see my lady,” he smiled.

Removing the duffel from his shoulder, he swept her into his arms and walked into her home. The metal buckles of his suit were cold through the thin silk of her robe and pajamas. Lipstick marked his skin with every kiss she bestowed upon his handsome face. “Save some of those kisses for later, honey. You know how much I love lipstick on my cock,” he growled into her ear.

“Depends on what Santa got me before I decide if I’m feelin’ generous,” she teased.

“Well then let’s get to openin’,” he smiled as he carried her into the beautifully decorated living room.

Once he set her down, she bounced onto the couch, sitting on her knees patiently. Ben sat next to her with a huff and swiftly unzipped the black bag. She giggled excitedly as he began pulling out the most gorgeously wrapped gifts and set them on the coffee table. The paper was a shiny baby pink wrapped with a velvet hot pink ribbon. Once all the presents were spread out for her to pick apart, the supe propped a foot up and lit a cigar. She took a moment to admire the handy work of some poor intern at Vought Ben had most likely intimidated into doing it. Soldier Boy didn’t wrap gifts.

He watched with an amused grin as his spoiled lover suddenly perched herself on his knee and opened every expensive gift he’d picked out: beautiful jewels from Cartier and Tiffany (he couldn’t decide which was better so he went with both), designer clothes and shoes from her favorite name brands, lingerie, and even a sable fur coat.

“Ben! Oh my god, baby! Is this real?!?” she gasped as she held the fur to her chest.

“Of course it’s real. Only the best for you,” he smirked as smoke curled from his perfect lips.

She wrapped her arms around his strong neck and passionately kissed his lips, tasting his cigar. A large hand held her waist as he slipped his tongue against hers. She was quick to face him and straddle his lap properly, “I’m feelin’ very grateful, Santa. I must have been an awful good girl to get all these presents.”

Ben squeezed the plush of her ass, “It’s the naughty things that got you on my nice list, Vixen. And, Santa’s got one more for ya.”

“Oh I can feel it,” she ground her hips down into his.

He clenched his teeth and groaned, “Not that. That’s in a minute.”

Ben picked her up and placed her on the couch, setting his cigar in an ashtray. Kneeling down before her, he took her right leg in his grasp, resting her foot against his shoulder. She leaned back and shivered as his soft lips and rough beard tickled her ankle. They dragged up towards her calf, smirking into her skin when he heard her quiet moan. His free hand reached into his pocket to pull out a small silver chain with a charm dangling from it. The metal was warm as he wrapped it around her slender ankle. Once it was clasped and freely hanging, Ben sat back to let her look at it.

“An anklet?” she asked curiously.

“Mmhm. Look at the charm,” he encouraged.

She removed her foot from his shoulder and tucked her leg against her body, looking down to admire the charm. It was an exact replica of the metal eagle patches on the upper arms of his suit. Her fingers felt engravings on the back. Flipping it around, she read the words, ‘Property of Soldier Boy.’

“I would have paid for a tattoo, but I know that’s not your style. This is muuuuch sexier,” he brought her ankle back to his chest, admiring the silver gleaming in the dim light, “Had it made special for ya. Something pretty to dangle in your face when I’ve got ya bent in half.”

“Isn’t that what your face is for?” she teased as she push her foot against his chest.

With a deep chuckle, he caught her behind both knees and yanked her legs open, pulling her to the edge of the couch, “It’s also a little reminder of who owns this ass.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist, “Make sure no body touches what’s yours, daddy?”

“Oh nobody would ever dare come near ya. If not from my lil’ reminder, then your expensive taste would bleed’em dry,” he leaned forward and kissed her neck.

She thread her fingers through his soft hair, “Your fault for spoiling me so much. Ruined me for any other man with that black card and thick dick.”

“Damn fuckin’ straight, honey,” he bit down hard where her neck and shoulder met, “Ya gonna let me unwrap my present now? Drink you like a warm glass of milk? Santa’s pretty thirsty.”

She nodded with a sweet sigh as his hands began to roam her body with determination. A moan slipped from her throat when he sucked on her jawline below her ear. Small hands slipped down his body and expertly began to unbuckle his suit. Ben let go of her long enough to slip it off. Her flimsy robe went next as his hands greedily shoved up under her tank top, groping her breasts in his large hands. She whimpered as he bit her lip and pinched her nipples.

“Fuck me, I missed these tits so much,” he groaned. She moaned into his mouth and ground her hips into his abdomen. The warmth from her pussy radiated through her flimsy shorts and into his skin. Every pass of her hips made her wetter, soaking through the silk. “C’mere,” Ben yanked her closer to wrap her legs around his waist and stood up.

It was a quick sprint up the stairs before entering her bedroom. He tossed her to the mattress, and she bounced, tits jiggling beautifully. “Naked. Now,” the order was gruff as he began unbuckling his belt. The green of his eyes turned dark watching her slip out of the cute little sleeping set. Only thing left on her body was a silver anklet and a sultry smile. She maneuvered herself on the bed to lay on her stomach, face inches from his hips. Ben’s gaze never left hers as he tossed his boots and pants aside.

He had a cocky swagger as his hard dick bobbed with every step. Her mouth watered, and she licked her lips at the sight. A deep chuckle reverberated from his chest, running his fingers through her hair before taking a handful, “I know that look, doll.” She bit her lip and stared up at him through her lashes, her crossed ankles swaying in the air. She leant forward and placed a bright red kiss mark at the base of his cock. He shuddered at the feel of her soft lips and warm breath.

Just as he asked, she decorated his cock in her lipstick. First, leaving kiss marks all the way up to his head. They all began to smear once she took him into her mouth, bobbing up and down until she was ready to take more. The hand tangled in her hair started guiding her as his hips started fucking into her mouth. Tears burned in her eyes, mascara beginning to run, but she kept going. He was taking it easy on her considering how long it had been since the last time they’d fucked.

“That’s my girl. You remember how to do this. Relax your throat a lil’ more for daddy,” Ben growled, “J-Just like that. Fuck, you’re such a good girl!”

She moaned around his length.

“Gonna cum down that pretty throat, honey,” he growled, “Swallow it. Fuckin’ swallow it!”

Her throat constricted around his girth as he came. He slowly began to pull his cock out, still throbbing and squirting into her mouth. He smeared the head of his dick against her tongue. She held her tongue out to show the last of his essence before swallowing. Ben kneeled with a sly grin and wiped her tears with his thumb, “That’s my good lil’ slut.” Her eyes were glazed over and her lips wet as she nuzzled into his hand. He suddenly picked her up and laid her against the plush pillows.

He caught her shamelessly watching his muscles stretch and flex as he laid on his stomach, throwing her legs over his broad shoulders. The tinkling of the anklet made a feral feeling settle in his body. “Your turn,” he grinned.

“Oh daddy!” she cried as his mouth enveloped her pussy.

The way he swirled his tongue around her clit then dip into her entrance made her begin to pant. Tiny, pathetic whimpers escaped her lips as she tried to roll her hips against him. The scratch of his beard her favorite sensation when he went down on her. Ben moaned and shook his head side to side, letting his tongue and facial hair rub against her sensitive folds. “I fucking love your beard, daddy! I want beard burn on my pussy!” she cried. His chuckle vibrated against her. He loved the sound of her desperate babbling.

Her small hands grasped at his hair frantically when he stuck his tongue inside her and ran his thumb over her clit. The calluses on his fingers added to the sparks tingling her nerve endings. She suddenly arched her back to rub her pussy against his face more. Two thick fingers replaced his tongue, and he sucked her clit into his mouth. Hooking his fingers, he assaulted that sensitive little spot inside her.

She nearly screamed as the damn burst, and she gushed all over his face and hand. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! YES, DADDY!” she screamed.

Ben’s groan vibrated through her and helped in adding to her pleasure. Her body trembled and spasmed as the waves crashed over her. Her first orgasm quickly bled into another as he kept up the pace. He only stopped when she began to push his head away and whine. “T-Too much, daddy! Need your cock! Now! P-Please!” she hiccuped.

His hot breath panted against her abused center. Their eyes met, and he could swear he saw cute little pink hearts in her blown pupils. Sitting up on his knees, Ben wiped his beard before pulling her hips to his. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his massive length rested against her slick sex. He held her hips in his hands as he watched her large breasts heave with each pant that escaped her bitten lips.

“Those fuckers you work for should put this image right here on the cover,” he felt her pussy lips clench on the underside of his cock, “Fuck, you like the idea of people seein’ what a cock drunk lil’ whore you are, baby?”

She dumbly nodded, not a thought forming in her fuzzy, lust-fueled mind.

Ben rut his hips back and forth, coating himself in her slick, “That face right there is why Santa was so good to you this year. Ain’t even put it in yet and you’re already a fucked dumb whore.”

She whined and whimpered, hips wiggling in anticipation as he notched his tip at her entrance. The need burned deep in her stomach, but she was being patient for him.

“My fucked dumb whore. My pretty lil’ slut,” he started to press his hips forward, “My favorite girl. Daddy’s spoiled princess.”

Ben moaned as her cunt clenched around him at his praises. He was a possessive son of a bitch, and feeling that anklet pressing between his lower back and her ankle made him fucking animalistic. His right hand slid from her hip to circle her clit with his thumb. She cried out and he moaned when their hips were flush together, tip kissing the back of her cervix. She never got tired of that overly full feeling only he could give her. That sweet stretching of her opening was addicting. Ben leaned over her, left hand holding her hip while right leaning against the mattress next to her head. Just as she was about to beg for him to move, his hips snapped forward. Each thrust hard and deliberate in reshaping her plush, velvet walls to his cock again.

Small hands held on to his strong neck and broad shoulders as her eyes watched his abs flex. She drooled over the way his body looked as he fucked her. She didn’t know what possessed her mind to conjure it, but she thought he was so pretty. Prettier than any gift he’d gotten her. It was odd to think of a man so ruggedly handsome as pretty. His forest green eyes dark with lust, his long hair hanging in his face, perfect smile adorning his face every time she cried out his name. It was beautiful.

“Sss…ssso pretty, d-daddy,” her right hand skimmed down his chest, red nails tracing down his V-line, “Prettier t-than m-me.”

Ben chuckled down leaned down on his forearm to brush his lips against her cheek, “Not prettier than you, baby, but I appreciate the compliment. Ya like daddy’s pretty cock inside ya?”

She gasped when he picked up his thrusts. The way her nails kept tickling his V-line made him shudder. Suddenly, he took her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and holding them above her head. Her legs wrapped tighter around his hips as he drove into her deeper. The only sound leaving her lips ‘uh, uh, uh’ over and over again. He sucked on her neck, leaving large bruises all over her neck. Each love bite soothed over with the pass of his tongue.

Her whole body was tingling and writhing. This was why he didn’t want her to play with herself. Her body was so sensitive and responsive to him it was insane. Selfishly, he wanted her to only get pleasure from him. Only cum when he wants her to, in the way he wants her to, however many times he wants her to. She was completely at his mercy, addicted to his touch. He suddenly flipped them, placing her on top before letting go of her hands to wrap his arms around her. She slipped hers around his neck and head, grasping his brown locks to make him look her in the eye.

His thrusts continued at a brutal pace. His teeth bit into her bottom lip as she moaned and trembled. When his right hand trailed up her spine, he took a fist full of her hair and pulled her mouth to his. The mind melting way he kissed her made her move her hips more with his thrusts. Suddenly, his left hand moved down to harshly grab and slap her ass. He swallowed her gasp when he suddenly circled his finger around the hole he wasn’t fucking. “O-Oh, fuck, baby!” he stuttered as her inner walls choked his cock, “Didn’t know you wanted daddy to play with your asshole, did ya?”

She could only whine, enjoying the constant circling of his middle finger over the small hole. The way their bodies pressed together made her rub her clit against his pelvis. She frantically rode him as he kept fucking up into her. Her voice went up higher in pitch the closer she came to exploding. “Look at you! Gettin’ off to daddy teasing your ass and fucking you raw. I’m gonna have to pull out.”

She gasped and held him tighter, nearly sobbing, “No! D-Don’t pull out, daddy! Stay i-inside! Want…huh…it inside!”

Ben smirked at the sound she made when he ground the tip of his dick into her cervix. He fucked her like a beast, primal need driving him to claim her in the most feral ways possible. And, she was going to let him for as long as he pleased. Her orgasm hit them both like a truck. She dug her nails into his chest, screaming and whimpering as she squirted all over his lap. The wet sounds filling the room were fucking obscene. It sounded like a dog drinking water as he kept ramming into her.

“Oh fuck, you can’t stop,” he laughed, “You can’t stop cummin’, can ya? This pussy won’t stop squirtin’!”

She let out little panting whines as her body jerked and convulsed. A scream of ecstasy came from her mouth when Ben hooked the tip of his finger into her asshole and slammed her on his cock. Both nearly blacked out as he came deep inside her with a loud roar that bled into a moan. The way her walls constricted and tried to push him out made him pump harder, deeper, forcing her sensitive body to spasm around his cock.

The two rode their highs, gently rutting against one another. Sweat clung to her skin while only a light sheen dusted the his. It would take a couple of rounds before the supe truly broke out in a sweat. Ben whispered sweet things in her ear as she floated down to earth.

“You did good, baby. Daddy’s so proud of ya,” he cooed into her ear, hands moving soothingly over her skin, “Best Christmas present I could’a asked for.”

She only hummed as she littered his chest and neck with kisses. Neither moved from their position, staying as close as possible. She stayed pressed against the expanse of his chest as he leaned over and took a joint from the night stand. The lighter flicked to life and the smell of weed filled the air. Her mind was still foggy and lightheaded, snuggled up in a syrupy sweet state. If he pulled out right now, she’d throw a desperate and pitiful tantrum, but he had no intention of leaving her insides any time soon.

Ben heard her heart rate slow and breathing begin to equalize. Her mouth nuzzled against his jaw playfully as her hands wondered over his muscles, “I have a present for you, daddy.”

“Another one? The only present I want is to do THIS until one of us passes out,” he smirked.

“We do that all the time,” she giggled, “Grab the black folder from the drawer.”

Holding the joint between his lips, he once again reached to the small table. He opened the drawer to find black folder with his Supe name printed on the cover in silver letters. Ben settled back onto the bed and opened the gift to reveal a spectacular sight. Picture after picture of her in the most revealing, jaw-dropping lingerie, while posed in the most ball-achingly, sinfully delicious positions.

“Holy shit! When did you do this?” he asked looking down at her.

Her giggle turned into a whimper as she felt him begin to throb and harden inside her, “Playboy asked to do a shoot with me a few weeks ago. I asked Hugh if I could borrow the set up for something special for America’s Hero.”

The more he kept flipping through the glossy pictures, the stiffer he became inside her. She weakly pushed herself up to sit up and on his dick. By the time he tossed the folder on the bed, she was rolling her hips and frantically fucking herself on him like a bitch in heat. “You read my fuckin’ mind, doll,” he moaned as she took his large hands and placed them on her tits.

“One…one more…present,” she panted, hands encouraging his to be rougher with her chest.

He couldn’t tear his eyes from where his dick disappeared inside her, “Thought I was supposed to spoil you? What else did ya get me?”

Her eyes had been pinched closed, but she pried them open to look at him. She bit her lip before finally letting it slip, “I want you to f-fuck me at H-Herogasm. In front of everyone, daddy!”

Ben almost came again, “Goddamnit, seriously?!? Are you for real?”

She nodded frantically as she kept bouncing, “Only you. N-No one else!”

His head thumped against the headboard as he groaned in deep satisfaction, fingers pinching her nipples, “Just me, honey, you got it! Christ on a cross! I think I’m in love!”

She let out a breathy giggle, eyes rolling into the back of her head, “M-Merry Christmas, daddy.”

“Merry fuckin’ Christmas, baby,” he moaned.

Have a very Nonsense Christmas🎄💋

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freshllamapeace · 19 days ago

Text

Till the sun burns out

Remmick x reader

I posted the snippet earlier this week this is the finished product!

Warning - Dead dove do not eat, Gore, Noncon/smut, this is a rough read so you have been warned, probably not my best written smut if I'm honest

Stupid, pathetic, maybe even… desperate. The words described you well enough, wouldn’t you say? A lonely girl with nothing better to do than throw her life away. You do this because you think you're special, you think you're destined for greatness, You think one day you're gonna wake up and be the main character but you aren't. I mean how could you when you’re not even the main character of your own story. You aren't special, you aren’t destined for greatness. The only thing you're truly destined for is to die in this forest. Body broken and mangled while he loomed over you.

It was clear you were going to die here. No way you get out of this, worst yet you could see the white walls of the house where you grew up in, the soft porch light admitting a warm welcoming glow. If you could have run a few more feet you'd be home safe. But you were just shy of that and he revelled in that. Walking circles around you like a wolf who had just cornered his prey. You hadn't even known what you'd done wrong. What made you deserving of this treatment but it didn’t matter, not anymore.

Your leg was broken, the bone splintered in half, a jagged end poking out through the skin where your knee was meant to be. Blood leaking down the wound onto the forest floor. Your left arm was gone, ripped apart. The only evidence of it ever being there being the blood and tendons that leaked out of your bicep. The pain was unbearable, indescribable it ached everywhere. You could do nothing but cry and scream. Even your stomach suffered some blows, a large laceration planted diagonally through your chest, your internal organs threatening to spill out. The palm of your right hand was degloved, a sea of red covering the skin that was once there, tendons and muscle clearly on display for you to see. If you’d looked long enough you’d even be able to see the muscles moving, slow and concise.

Grabbing you by your hair you were lifted from the ground and pressed into the cruel bark of a tree. A screech moved past your lips as broken body parts started to move and bend. “I told you, didn't I? That we’d make sweet sweet music together.” He pressed his mouth against your ear, hot breath assaulting your skin. “I ain’t say how but you were so eager… I ain’t wanna spoil the surprise for ya.” Using his body to keep you stationed against the tree Remmick started to fiddle with his belt. Taking his time to remove it, his eyes stayed stationed on you. Red like an amber sea and teeth glistening in the moonlight, it had been ages since Remmick had played with his food to this degree. Kissing your neck, Remmick allowed his pants to fall to his ankles, his cock in hand.

“Please, you don't have to do this.” You cried, the cherry colored fluids dripping from your lips onto his chest. Remmick smiled, a smile he often did. It was mocking, cruel and yet the smile looked almost kind… almost. “I know little dove. ” Remmick wasted no time lining himself with your cunt. Pressing his body further onto you, you heard the sound of something stabbing into fresh. It was your bone piercing into his stomach. “Fuck.” He moaned. “You get me all hot and bothered looking like this.” Your gored body turning him on. He was disgusting, a freak of nature. Slamming himself inside you, Remmick gave you no time to prepare before setting the tempo, thrusting at a rough and savage pace. Remmick paid no attention to the bone that pierced his flesh with every thrust. Blood leaking down the wound he had created. Moving his hand down your body Remmick started to play with your clit. The rough circular motions pressed into your skin. You were in pain, your body was aching, the wounds burned and yet your body still reacted to the orgasm forced onto you by him. Your nails digging into his shoulder as you held onto him . You were trembling beneath him, breathing heavy, eyes half lidded. The blood loss was going to catch up with you, soon rather than later. “Fuck.” He groaned, his breathing uneven and his thrust getting impossibly quicker. “Don’t die yet darlin’ I'm almost there.” He whispered in your ear. “There ain’t no God above but if there was he made you just for me.” Soon his thrust started to stutter and slow, his nails began to dig into your skin creating new wounds on your broken body. A groan leaves his lips as he releases all his love and affection into you, the white liquid carrying a red tint to it. Not quite ready to pull himself out of you Remmick thrusted a couple more times making sure that you were filled with every last drop of his cum.

“I'm going to break you over and over again.” Far too tired and dying from the blood loss the words didn’t register in your mind as anything other than gibberish. But what did register was the sharp pain you felt in your neck and the way he licked at the wound lapping up the blood. When he was done he allowed your body to crumple in on itself, you dropped to the floor. The world went black.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #remmick sinners #remmick x you #remmick x reader #sinners 2025 #sinners #remmick fanfic #sinners fic #Remmick come get dis pussy #remmick #dark! remmick #dark!fic #remmick x character #remmick remmick remmick

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 11 months ago

Note

Happy 6k!!!! That’s so exciting and you deserve it :)

Can I request Bucky & touch starved?

.⋆｡Small Adjustments｡⋆.

Bucky Barnes x plus size reader

To Bucky, touch brought with it pain and suffering but maybe it can be different with you

Warnings: touch starved!Bucky, fluff, mutual pining, mention of torture, bit of hurt/comfort WC: 1.3k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

It was an unspoken agreement amongst the Avengers that under no circumstances was Bucky to be touched. There were one too many instances of him lashing out at even the smallest of touches and after Peter’s arm was almost broken when he grabbed Bucky’s shoulder to steady himself after tripping, the rule was firmly set in place.

Touch had always been the harbinger of pain to Bucky. He had experienced and survived thousands of experiments; he knew the difference between acids just based on how much they burned him when they made contact with his skin. He knew what it was like to be ripped apart from the inside out as he was stitched back together while fully conscious. Bucky’s nerves were permanently scarred with each and every moment of pain, ensuring that he would never forget what he had gone through. Needless to say, he appreciated the physical distance the Avengers afforded him, even if it did make his chest ache sometimes.

He saw the friendly touches between them all— a hug after a hard mission, a clap on the back during training, even the occasional platonic cuddling during movie nights and he couldn’t help but be envious, especially when it came to you.

You were, by far, the most affectionate person he had ever met. You didn’t hesitate to wrap yourself around anyone who needed a hug, your hand was quite frequently clamped with someone else’s (Natasha’s or Wanda’s more often than not). You weren’t selfish with your touch and though it could be deadly thanks to your training, Bucky knew that you would never hurt the people you cared about.

“Barnes~ where are you!” Bucky’s lips curled into a gentle smile as your voice floated through the hallway, immediately brightening up the entire building.

“I’m in the kitchen, doll!” He shouted back before your footsteps quickened and you burst into the room. Your eyes, although still bleary with sleep even though it was 2 in the afternoon, positively sparkled as soon as you spotted the ex-assassin. Bucky raised an eyebrow at you, and you flustered slightly, looking down at what you were wearing.

“I thought I lost that shirt.”

“Yeah well don’t leave your stuff out if you don’t want someone to steal it.” You shrugged as you skipped over to the pot of fresh coffee still sitting in the machine.

“I seem to remember putting that shirt away, in my closet, in my locked bedroom.” Bucky took a sip of his own coffee.

“I don’t know what to tell you, I think old age is finally getting to you.” You tried to hide your warming cheeks behind your mug but he could see right through you.

“Whatever you say doll.” A comfortable silence settled over the both of you for a moment before you cleared your throat.

“So… we have the place to ourselves today,” Bucky knew what was coming, “wanna binge-watch Supernatural with me?” You looked up at him with such a hopeful expression on your face, it made his heart skip a beat.

“I don’t know, I was planning on going for a long run today.” His voice tilted up but in your post-sleep haze, you couldn’t pick up on the shift in his tone. Immediately, your eyes dropped and your bottom lip poked out. Bucky’s stomach flipped and suddenly all he wanted to do was to scoop you up into his arms and kiss away your pout. Instead, he blurted out quickly, “Hey, hey. I was just teasing. Of course I’ll watch with you. Gotta see what Sean and Dan get up to.”

You sniffed. “It’s Sam and Dean and you know it. Don’t pretend you’re not as obsessed as I am.” The band around his heart loosened.

“Yeah sure. You want Chinese or Thai?” He fished his phone out from his pocket.

“Like you even have to ask.” You retorted.

——————

You felt like you were sitting next to a feral cat as the food coma finally set in. Empty boxes of food were scattered around the coffee table in front of you while yet another episode started up but it wasn’t as if you were paying any sort of attention to the screen in front of you.

Somehow, during your feast of questionable takeout, Bucky had migrated from where he had been perched on the other side of the couch to sitting beside you, the thick muscle of his thigh almost touching your knee where you were curled up. His blue eyes stayed glued to the TV while he sighed heavily and leaned back into the couch cushions.

You held your breath as his shoulders dropped, leaving barely an inch of space between you. This was the closest Bucky had ever gotten to you and you would be damned if you fucked this up. Of course you knew about his aversion to touch, you had even witnessed his violent response to it first hand but Jesus did you want to feel the heat of his skin, the strength of his body as he hugged you.

Bucky was undoubtedly your best friend out of all the Avengers yet he was the only one to have never felt your embrace.

Your body trembled as you tried to keep yourself still. You didn’t want to accidentally brush against him and send him scrambling off but you also didn’t want to move away and give him the impression that you didn’t want him near you. And selfishly, you did want him beside you if only to fuel your hopeless crush on the man.

There was a gunshot on the screen, startling you. You jumped and suddenly, you were half on top of Bucky.

Your palm spread across the expanse of his stomach, letting you feel the hardness of his abs and the warmth that radiated off of him. The tip of your nose brushed against his as your eyes locked. You both stayed there for a second before the reality of the situation hit you squarely in the chest.

“Oh god Bucky I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” You threw yourself back against the arm of the couch as panic bubbled up in your gut. Bucky remained frozen where he sat, both his hands slightly raised as he looked down at his lap. “Bucky I-“ Your voice was thick with tears.

You shook your head as you pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, desperately trying to keep them away. How stupid were you? You knew you should’ve just given him some more space, paid attention to the TV so you would know if something would startle you. Do literally anything else besides jumping on the man with severe trauma. You messed everything up.

“Doll,” Bucky cooed as his hand gently wrapped around your wrists, slowly pulling them down so he could look at you, “I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?” He chuckled softly, now bringing your hands into his lap so he could hold them.

“How could I ever be mad at you? I know it was an accident but more than that, I know you would never want to hurt me. I’m safe with you.” You could feel the slight tremble in his hands like he was struggling to keep touching you but Bucky refused to let go, he even shuffled closer to you. You nodded but stayed quiet. He finally smiled. “Besides, I think it’s time I got one of those famous Y/N hugs. Not now of course, I’m way too fucked up for that, but soon.”

“Don’t be mean to yourself Barnes,” you scolded, “lots of people hurt you. You get to be patient with healing. We just make small adjustments, build up to it y’a know.”

“Yeah, small adjustments.” His right hand slid into your left, your fingers intertwining as you both melted back into the couch, your eyes drifting back to your show that neither of you would be paying any attention to. After a few minutes, Bucky’s thumb began to rub against the skin of your knuckles, a delicate back and forth that both sent a flurry of butterflies into flight in your stomach and ignited your cheeks with a blazing heat.

Small adjustments indeed.

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