#transform your press releases

[thegabriellahere]

Give Your Press Release a Makeover to Enhance its Efficiency

Press releases to this day remain one of the most effective PR tools and adhering to certain pointers significantly help transform your press releases into newsworthy content.

The oldest and yet most effective tool in the PR arsenal, the press release can be a game changer, ensuring the maximum possible ROI, when crafted keeping in mind all the recent trends and standards of the industry. A soggy writing that does not adhere to the established formats of press releases is bound to be instantly discarded by journalists and media outlets, and the surest way to ensure that the press releases are taken into consideration is to treat them as a part of the brand’s integrated communications program.

Below are some of the ways in which you can transform your press releases from a dreary piece and tweak into something newsworthy:

Keywords are the Key

The inclusion of keywords that align with the message that the press release wishes to convey can drastically modify it and thinking of them before crafting the content body ensures that they are incorporated organically rather than as an afterthought. This not only results in a well-written press release but is vital to building the credibility of the company.

Strategic Placement of Keywords and Links

Keywords must be incorporated strategically into the press release, the first and foremost being the first 50–60 characters of the press release headline, so as to ensure that it does not get cut off in the SERP results. Brevity with saturated information is your friend in this aspect. Add keywords in the introductory text and the subheadings as well. However, do not overcrowd the text with keywords or Google can mark it as spam. The same rule applies to links. Do not add more than two anchor links in the press release body and that too for really lengthy ones.

Up the SEO Game

Journalists do not have the time to engage in each press release critically and therefore the content body should be crafted in a manner that they get the gist of the matter with a quick scan. Including short, crisp sentences with a catchy headline while leaving out flowery phrases and hyping terms that might indicate that the press release is biased can earn it brownie points. Often brands seek the help of experts to ensure that their Press Releases are search engine optimized.

Include Assets that Attract

Cut the monotony of long articles and add a little dynamism to your press release using the wide variety of media available to engage the readers. Spice up the press releases by adding multimedia like videos, photos, or infographics that can add a new dimension to them and make them more reader-friendly. The aim is to attract the attention of the readers, not to bore them out of reading.

Make the Best of Social Media Engagement

A tried and tested PR strategy is to add social media engagement to press releases. It not only pitches the press release to the right audience at the right time but also helps the brand gain valuable information regarding the latest trends, consumer interests and sentiments, and competition, for better content creation in the future.

Reap the Benefits of Tracking Links to Analyze

Tracking links are one of the easiest ways to measure and analyze engagement. It gives the brands much-needed insight into what is, or isn’t, working for them and curate content accordingly. It also gives them a preview of what the consumers find interesting and would be compelled to look into further.

Personalize

Though it may not seem to be so but adding a personal touch to a press release, especially one that is sent out en masse goes a long way in building brand perception and credibility as a serious prospect and perpetuates the notion that it has not just been copied and pasted had some serious thought put into it. It enables the press release to truly stand out among thousands and connect with the recipient.

A great press release is one that inculcates the above pointers and seals the deal with rich content and data that is accurate and at par with the topline, engaging journalists right away.

[imwritesometimes]

newest hot take on tumblr dot com - the barbie movie is actually just barbie brand marketing. water is wet. more at 11.

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[driverlando]

🏎️ oscar holding your legs down and pressing his hand on your stomach when he’s eating you out so you can’t squirm or squeeze your legs around his head because he wants you to take it

here you go lovie!

—

The room was filled with a comfortable silence, the kind that envelops two people who are completely at ease with each other. The glow from the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on the walls, adding to the intimate atmosphere. You lay on the bed, heart racing with anticipation as Oscar stood at the foot of it, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Oscar’s public shyness was endearing, but in these private moments, he transformed into someone else entirely—confident, commanding, and irresistibly alluring. He slowly crawled onto the bed, his hands gliding over your thighs with a tenderness that belied the heat in his gaze.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a deep, soothing rumble.

You nodded, unable to find your voice, the anticipation making your body hyperaware of every touch, every movement. Oscar’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes never leaving yours as he positioned himself between your legs.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs, each touch sending shivers of pleasure through your body. Your instinct was to squirm, to close your legs around him and pull him closer, but Oscar had other plans.

“Stay still for me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You tried to obey, but the sensation was overwhelming. Oscar’s tongue flicked out, tracing a slow, deliberate path that made you moan softly. Your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more contact, more of his touch.

Oscar’s hands moved to your hips, gripping them firmly. “I said, stay still,” he repeated, his tone a mix of authority and patience. His hands slid up your body, one hand resting on your stomach, pressing down gently but firmly. The pressure was grounding, a reminder of his control.

He resumed his ministrations, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony. Each movement was calculated to drive you wild, to push you to the edge and keep you there. The pressure of his hand on your stomach intensified the sensation, making every touch feel even more powerful.

You could feel the tension building, your body trembling with the effort to stay still. Every nerve ending was on fire, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. Oscar’s grip tightened, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin as he worked.

“Don’t move,” he commanded softly, his voice a dark promise. “I want you to take it all.”

You whimpered, your hands clutching the sheets as you fought to obey. The sensation was almost too much, your body aching with need. But Oscar’s firm touch, his steady presence, kept you grounded, kept you focused.

His mouth was relentless, his tongue flicking and swirling in a rhythm that had you teetering on the edge. The pressure of his hand on your stomach kept you pinned, unable to escape the intense pleasure. You could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil of desire winding tighter and tighter.

“Oscar,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I can’t… it’s too much…”

“You can,” he replied, his voice filled with determination. “You’re going to take it for me. Every bit of it.”

His words sent a thrill through you, his dominance a potent aphrodisiac. You surrendered completely, letting go of any semblance of control. Oscar’s touch was everything, his hands and mouth guiding you to a place of pure ecstasy.

The coil inside you snapped, and you cried out, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. Oscar didn’t let up, his mouth working you through every wave of pleasure, drawing out your release until you were a trembling, breathless mess beneath him.

Only when he was satisfied did he finally pull back, his eyes dark with desire and pride. He moved up your body, his hands gentle as he cradled your face, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “So beautiful, so perfect.”

You lay there, panting and spent, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Oscar’s touch had been commanding, almost overwhelming, but it was also filled with a deep care and tenderness. The contrast between his public shyness and private dominance was intoxicating, leaving you craving more of his touch, more of his control.

He held you close, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin, as you slowly fell into a deep slumber.

[raspberrybesitos]

the water’s warm | abby anderson x f!reader

Valentine’s Masterlist | Main masterlist | Palestine

Please take some time to go through the Palestine link. If you enjoy my writing, I ask you to help Palestine in any way you can.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~1.5k

Summary: You and Abby enjoy a bubble bath together on Valentine’s Day.

Warnings: no outbreak AU, established relationship, fingering (r!receiving), finger sucking, needy!reader, bit of needy!Abby, pulling Abby’s hair, fluff, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), bit of praise kink, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: this is my first ever Abby fic, my first ever wlw fic actually. Abby is one of my favorite characters, so i thought i’d try my hand at some Abby fic. i’m nervous… anyway, i hope y’all enjoy!! as always, not beta’d - all mistakes are my own. 🏃‍♀️

Divider by @hitobaby

She sighs deeply as she unlocks the door to your shared apartment. Work sucked as usual and she’d called you telling you she’d be off late this evening - Valentine’s Day. You hadn’t been upset, you’d been more than understanding. Making her all the more frustrated as you’d patiently waited for her.

“Baby?” Abby calls out, hanging her keys on the hook beside the door and kicking off her shoes before entering the hall. Soft music blooms from your shared bedroom, your humming accompanying the sound. She pushes the door open, walking inside the bedroom. Steam seeps from the slightly ajar bathroom door. The sound of running water and the scent of lavender permeating the air. Abby opens the door, revealing you digging for something in the cabinets in that black silk little robe that drives Abby fucking crazy. Your ass teasingly on display.

“Hi, baby,” Abby says gently, careful not to scare you. You startle, whipping around, clutching some towels. Fear vanishes and transforms into excitement, relieved to see your girlfriend.

“You’re home. I didn’t even hear you come in,” you mumble, setting the towels down on the sink counter before bounding to her. Smiling softly at you, she envelopes you in her strong embrace, her t-shirt snug against her taut biceps. Wrapping your arms around her neck, you crash your lips onto hers. Her hands resting on your waist, rubbing small circles onto your silk-covered skin. Sighing into each other, one of her hands glides to rest on your cheek as she deepens the kiss.

It’s a lazy kiss, languid and heady. She savors the taste of you on her tongue, the sweetness from the wine you had before she got home intoxicating her senses.

You always taste so sweet.

She pulls back, both of you breathless, before she dives into your neck. Littering kisses on the column of your throat, giggles bubbling from you.

“Happy Valentine’s Day to you too,” you say through your laughter, her kisses tickling your skin. She snaps her head up, a gentle grin gracing her features. “Happy Valentine’s Day, pretty girl,” she says before capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Disconnecting from your lips, she resumes her feast, pressing kisses all along your chest.

“How was work?” You choke out, gasping softly as she bites that spot on your neck. “Don’t wanna talk about work,” she grunts, soothing the sore spot with her tongue. Your eyes flutter shut, sighing as slick starts to pool in between your bare thighs. “A-Abby. Gotta turn off the w-water, baby,” you pant as she sucks on your neck. She reluctantly releases you from her grip, letting you shut the water off.

She groans when you bend over to switch the faucet off, your ass just barely poking out beneath your robe. You chuckle softly, teasingly wiggling your ass a bit before you gasp. Her strong hands cup the globes of your ass.

“You teasing me, pretty girl?” She rasps huskily, lips brushing against your earlobe. Arching your back, you press your ass against her mound as your hands flit to the silk tie around your waist.

“Maybe,” you giggle, untying your robe and wriggling out her grasp. You slide the black silk down your body, letting it hit the floor and climb into the tub before Abby can grab you again. Sinking into the bubble filled tub, you settle in with a sigh. Lavender infiltrating your senses, the warm water soothing all tension in your body.

You gaze up at your girlfriend - her eyes turning blacker with hunger by the second. A smile splays on your face, eyes crinkling with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“Care to join me? The water’s warm,” you taunt. Abby does not need to be asked twice. She hastily strips off her clothes, tossing them on the floor next to your robe. Clambering into the water, you scoot forward allowing her room to settle in behind you.

Abby lets out a satisfied hum as you settle against her, your back flushed against her chest. Her nipples pebbled from the draft in the air. The suds coating both of your bodies, Abby runs a callused hand along your arm as she litters gentle kisses on your neck.

“Missed you today, pretty girl,” she rasps against the shell of your ear. Her hand skates down your body, resting atop your navel, lips attached to your neck. Your skin clammy and coated in lavender as the steam rises in the bath.

“Missed you too, Abs,” you whisper softly as her fingers tauntingly hover above your core. She abruptly skates her hands to your breasts, tweaking your nipples in between her rough fingertips. A breathy moan shudders from your chest, back slightly arching into her. Her teeth nipping at your jaw before a rough hand cups the side of your face, forcing your gaze onto hers. She slams her lips against yours, kissing you ferociously, mercilessly. Teeth gnashing and tongues tangling together, Abby groans as she swallows your moans.

“Look at you. All fucking needy, and I’ve barely even touched you,” she teases, her swollen lips ghosting over yours, glimmering with saliva. You writhe in her hold, letting out a soft moan. “Need you, Abby. Been w-waiting for you all day,” you whine.

“Shhh, shh shh shh. All day huh, baby?”

All you can do is nod, intoxicated on her touch alone. She presses a soft kiss to your jaw, her hand swiftly slithering to your aching clit. Her fingers hovering around where you need her most. “Gonna give you what you want, baby,” she whispers, lips brushing yours and her nose pressed against yours.

She slowly draws circles on your throbbing clit. You throw your head back against her shoulder, moaning in relief. “That better, baby?” She taunts.

“Uh huh,” you moan. Her fingers move faster against your clit, slick pooling at your entrance.

“Tell me how it feels, baby. This what you wanted? Waiting for me to come home and play with this pretty pussy, baby?”

Her words have you clenching around nothing. The pressure in your belly builds as the coil winds tighter and tighter.

“Y-yes, baby. F-feels so good, ahh,” you whimper, hips bucking up into her fingers. Her free hand pinning you down.

“So greedy, baby. What else do you need, pretty girl, huh?” She asks, no, mocks. Teasing you as she slows her pace on your clit, eliciting a cry from you.

“No, no! Don’t stop, please, Abby!” You beg, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Abby smirks. “Not gonna stop, baby. Wanna hear you say it. What do you want, baby? Tell me,” she says, nipping at your neck.

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Fuck me with your fingers, please. Need you inside, Abby, inside, please,” you nearly wail, babbling breathlessly. With no preamble, she shoves two fingers inside your aching cunt, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Her thick fingers immediately hitting that spongy spot. 

“Fuck, baby. Always so fucking tight for me,” she groans. She pumps her fingers in and out of your dripping cunt, feeling your warm slick gather in between your thighs under the now-cool water. You moan uncontrollably, babbling nonsense as she fucks you with her fingers. A gasp cuts off your moans as she roughly cups your jaw once more, turning you to face her again as she shoves her thumb into your mouth. Moaning around her, you reach behind Abby’s neck and harshly tug her braid. Abby can’t help but moan at the sight and feel of you. 

Your slick collecting on her fingers, your ass rutting against her clit, your back writhing against her nipples, your tongue swirling around her thumb, the forceful pull of her hair.

She nearly comes right then and there.

Abby messily ruts her hips against your ass, humping you as she seeks relief for her aching clit. Moaning in tandem, she picks up the pace, fucking her fingers into you harder and harder. “Come on, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers. You’re so close, baby, I can feel it. Squeezing my fingers so fucking tight,” she grits, her thumb swirling circles on your clit as her fingers punch your g-spot.

Her words snap the coil in your belly, your orgasm blinding your vision as your slick coats her fingers. Stars bursting behind your eyes as they roll to the back of your head. Your body on fire contrasting the rapidly cooling bath, bubbles dissolving as you ride out your orgasm.

“There ya go. That’s it. Good fucking girl, coming all over my fingers. So good for me, pretty girl,” she praises, groaning as you clench her fingers so tightly they nearly slip out. Wailing in her grasp as she holds you closer to her, if that’s possible.

An endless stream of moans floods the air. Abby, Abby, Abby the only thing you’re able to articulate as you scream her name.

Abby fucks you through your high, slowly returning back down to Earth. Panting as you catch your breath from your mind-blowing orgasm, Abby’s muffled, distorted voice grounds you back in reality.

“Hmmm?” You hum, feeling a tender kiss on your temple.

“Said you did so good for me,” Abby says softly, placing a kiss in your hair. You giggle, always bashful when she praises you. Settling back onto her strong chest, you contentedly hum while lazily closing your eyes. Her kisses a balm for your being.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, pretty girl. It’s still Valentine’s Day and I’m not done with you just yet.”

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hii congrats on 5k!! i love your writing ! if you’re still celebrating could i request a carmy blurb where maybe you’re syd’s besite and carmy has this biggggest crush on you (im talking this mf is Yearning) and she gets on him sooo hard about it like teasing him and reader and him end up together ? TIA <3

Not So Secret.

carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - cursing.

written for my 5k celebration- post here, masterlist here, inbox here.

“You’re gonna stare a hole through her fuckin’ head.”

“Shut up.”

Richie laughs, following Carmens eyeline to where it’s fixed on you.

You’re stood in the restaurant with Sydney, both of you giggling at something she’s showing you on her phone. When you look up, you smile at Carmy, all soft and sweet and like butter wouldn’t melt. He almost melts, a puddle of yearning on the kitchen floor.

Sugar appears next to the two of you, holding out a piece of paper.

“This is a really rough draft of what we kind of want them to look like. Obviously you have full control, but this is kind of the vibe?”

When Carmen mentioned wanting a more personal touch on the menus, Sydney quickly offered your services. You’re the most artistic person she knows, gifted with naturally gorgeous handwriting that almost looks like calligraphy. Plus, she knows how much everyone at The Bear likes you, having been a part of their transformation. It’s a win - win.

“Yeah, I get you. So you want the title words like Dessert in more of a cursive, and then the actual dishes and descriptions in a typeface?”

“Yes! Do your thing. We trust you.”

She gives you a side hug, careful not to hit you with her bump.

“I’m gonna need some nice paper, and probably a new calligraphy pen so I can start from scratch. I’m gonna head to the craft store, and I’ll be back.”

“Carmy will go with you!”

Richie shouts it from the doorway, where he’s been not so subtly watching the conversation. Carmy blushes, clearly caught off guard.

“He needs to go to the craft store too, right Cousin? Good. Go. Bye!”

Carmy’s practically being pushed out the door, uncomfortable and flustered. You smile reassuringly, grabbing your bag and walking over to your car.

“You’re okay with me driving?”

“Course. Shouldn’t I be?”

You laugh, and he can’t help but grin, the sound settling nicely into his ribcage to warm him up.

“I’m a good driver, I promise. Despite what Sydney might say.”

He looks worried but gets in anyway, ever trusting you and anything you do.

He can’t help but sneak glances at you as you drive. You’re completely focused on the road in front, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you concentrate. Carmy feels heat bloom across his chest at the action, wishing he could reach out and release it for you before you draw blood.

A text chimes through the air, startling you both. You press the button on your steering wheel so your car can read the message out loud.

From Sydney: Carmy. Tell her immediately or I’ll lock you in the walk in freezer. Sick of you acting like a lovesick puppy. This is your chance. Don’t blow it, asshole. We’re all tired.

Both of you freeze, your hands tightening on the wheel. Carmy wants to throw himself out of the moving car, but decides against it at the last minute.

You pull the car into the craft store parking lot, choosing a space and yanking the handbrake on. You turn to him, looking at him for the first time since the bombshell.

He’s blushed all over, chest heaving and bottom lip pulled between his teeth. You almost want to reach out and release it for him, before he draws blood.

“Carmy.”

“I think, uh, yeah, I just - that was clearly sent to the wrong person. Not meant for you.”

You laugh, suddenly, and it spooks Carmy so much that he jumps out of his skin.

“Yeah, Carm. That I figured.”

He laughs with you then, unsure and nervous. You reach out and place a hand on his knee, trying to calm him down. It just makes his heart lurch.

“What’s Syd talking about? Tell me what?”

He looks down at his lap, hands knotted together.

“I think you know.”

“Wanna hear you say it,” you whisper.

He finds the courage to meet your gaze, taking a deep breath.

“I like you. So much. I can’t stop talking about you to anyone and everyone that’ll listen - to the point that everyone at The Bear gives me so much shit for it. Sydney won’t get off my back, either. She says I’m ‘yearning’.”

You chuckle, rubbing patterns into the material of his jeans with your thumb.

“They’ve all made bets,” he continues, “about if I’ll ever tell you or not.”

“Who bet on you? And who against?”

“Syd and Richie against me. Marcus too. Tina and Sugar are on my side. Not sure why.”

“Wanna make Tina and Sugar some money?”

He quirks a brow questioningly, eyes going wide when you lean over the centre console and plant your hands on either side of his face. You’re so close to him that your breaths tangle together, one set of lungs working overtime.

“Kiss me, Carm.”

He doesn’t think twice, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers in his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. His hands find your back, tugging you into him as much as the limited space allows.

You whine when he bites at your lip gently, and he has to pull away to take a steadying breath before he passes out.

“You should get your eyes checked.”

He tries to process for a moment.

“Huh?”

“You must be blind if you can’t see how much I like you, Carm. How much I’ve always liked you.”

He grins at you, bright and white, and you shake your head before leaning in to kiss him again.

When you don’t make it back into the restaurant that day, everyone has never been happier to not see the both you.

[hazelfoureyes]

HAZELLLL OH BOY DO I HAVE A GOOD IDEAAAA

OKOK so what if doe! Reader is with vox and readers in heat right right????

But vox can't help reader break it (he's been trying for hours)

So he has to call alastor to help you since he's the only deer vox knows of

Oh my goddd

Hohoho good night awquar 💖

Cucking Vox

「warnings/promises: Vox x Female doe reader, Alastor x female doe reader, smut, Cucking the TV man, knotting, heat, pussy flooded, Alastor says “good girl”, hell is heaven now, you’re engaged but meh, drones were not made for this, Breeding???, humilation of the flat headed prince, Vox loves you, but your pussy love Alastor」

Minors I stg! DNI!

It had been all morning. He didn’t mind the stamina required, but his love was still suffering. Nothing was satiating your needs, even when he went out of his way to transform his typically human male prick into something more akin to the wider based cock you needed …. It was still not enough.

As you laid supine and open, the artificial knot full and stuck in you, the whines didn’t stop. It didn’t have the heat your cunt knew a proper mate would have. His load was too small, your womb quivering in need with every pathetic release he buried in you. A real knot would pulse with the heart rate of the buck claiming you. 

“Nothing?” Vox’s voice was high and worried. 

“I mean… it’s something.” Grumbled into a pillow. You ground against him but it was useless to calm your burning walls. Ever hour that passed without being properly fucked became torturous. 

“What does it feel like? Not getting, ya know,” suddenly he felt shy, voicing the thing he was lacking, “knotted.”

You considered sparing him the truth but your animal brain said it before your human one could stop it, “It hurts. It feels like my pussy is on fire. Do you know how sometimes the roof of your mouth itches and you can’t scratch it? That. For fucking hours.”

Seeing you in pain hurt him, deeper than he could handle. How could he have so much money and power and feel so worthless for you now?

Did he truly have no resources? No recourse? No remedy? 

As he watched your large doe ears press back into your skull, the solution came to him.

“One minute babe, you just…” Vox halted as you rolled on your side, fingers coming to your center to have some friction, “Keep doing that…”

· · ─────── ·📺📻· ─────── · ·

When the drone approached his patio table,  he didn’t look up. 

When Vox’s voice crackled through the small speaker, he didn’t look up.

When the question, “How much for you to fuck my fiancée?” was shouted at him, he admittedly choked a little on his coffee and finally acknowledged the device.

“Why on earth would I do that?” Alastor set the mug down to keep from breaking it in his hand.

“To humiliate me.”

A beat.

A hum.

A twirl of his staff.

“Well in that case, for free!”

Vox blinked twice as he stared at the monitor, “Wait, really?”

Alastor mulled it over seriously now. Did he want to have sex right now? No, not really. Did the idea of making Vox’s future wife scream his name sound hilarious? Yes absolutely. 

He shrugged, getting up from his chair as the drone spun around him, “Shit, I didn’t expect you to agree.”

“So you don’t want me to bed your gal?” Alastor smiled, “Then I’m definitely in.”

Vox chewed on a claw, “Fuck! Fine just get down here. And I don’t owe you any favors for this, so don’t even fucking ask.”

“Oh Vox, favors? You’re hardly the one I’d go to when in need. You’re not even the first Vee I’d approach! Ha!”

Before he could crash the drone directly into that smug face, he heard your whimpers from the bedroom down the hall and paused. 

“Just”, Vox cradled his screen in his hands, “hurry up.”

It became immediately clear why his former partner had called him of all people when Alastor exited the elevator into Vox’s personal floor.

The living quarters were swimming in the heady scent of arousal. Specifically, a doe. 

Alastor rolled his eyes, of course Vox found one of the few other deer demons in the pride ring to marry.

“Ooh, you are in a pickle, huh?” He leaned against the door frame, taking in the sight of the overlord rubbing your back as you groaned. His eyes fell immediately to the downturned tail above your bare cheeks. “Poor thing.” He cooed.

You couldn’t find the will to turn your head to look. A growled, “Voxy?”

“He’s here to help, babe.” His hands sped up their massaging swirls.

“Who, exactly?”

“Alastor! The radio demon. A plea-,” He began but couldn’t finish. 

Vox laughed nervously, “He’s a deer demon! Like you!” 

“You grabbed a random deer demon off the street to-,”

“No! Not at all! Though, admittedly, the only other deer demon I know.” As you made a noise of disapproval, he added, “He’s an overlord! An old pal, even.”

You heard the strange man guffaw. Finally, you rolled over to lay eyes on the supposed cavalry your beau had summoned.

Oh. 

“Hmm.” Something in you unspoken yet still demanding made you roll into your back and drop your knees open. 

He hadn’t anticipated a fellow deer in heat. Vox had offered him more than just fucking his girl, it turned out. Alastor had come mostly expecting to laugh in Vox’s face as a second best humiliation and head to cannibal town, but seeing how Vox was so desperately in love, well, how could he say no? What more delicious of a meal could exist than splitting open Vox’s ego while splitting open his doe with the same effort.

Still on the bed, Vox felt the air shift as he stood between Alastor and you. 

“Well, I uh, guess I’ll leave you two to it.” His screen flashed a pink haze of embarrassment.

“Oh? Abandoning her already?” With a snap and a flourish of his fingers, a plush reading chair materialized on the opposite side of the bed. “Take a seat, old chum.”

“You can’t be serious.” 

Alastor loosened his bowtie, “You’d really leave your vulnerable and needy betrothed all alone with a man? Tsk tsk.”

Vox laughed, “You’re not a man.”

“Ooh, correct.” Alastor reached the bed, undoing his belt, “I’m a buck, right little one?” When his hand reached out and slid down your calf you trembled. Even his skin on yours felt different than Vox’s. “Now take a seat.”

His flat face turned to you, who could only nod as a long claw dragged down your shin.

Vox settled into his chair and crossed his arms. He wanted to say something snotty about how he would make more money on his cell during the little romp than Alastor could dream of, but the sound of Alastor’s zipper made his throat close.

“I’ll need a little assistance to catch up to you, sweetheart. Mind lending me a hand?” Alastor rested his knees on either side of your thighs,  body hovering over you as he knelt.

You briefly considered arguing, but as his other hand pulled his still soft cock from his pants and the scent of him hit your heightened senses, you found your body sitting up. Your hand went into his as he placed it around himself. His fist around yours as he showed you how to stroke him.

“Is that really necessary?” Vox’s voice seemed to glitch.

“Of course! I’m only capable of knotting when in rut. And a rut can only be triggered by a doe in heat. I’ll need her touch and scent to … get the show started, so to speak.” Alastor’s hand left yours, index finger coming to lift your chin. The first eye contact of the evening, funnily enough coming after skin met skin. 

Deep red eyes shone down on you behind a widening smile, “Good girl. I’ll take care of you.”

“You’re obnoxious.” You slurred, a second wave of his uniquely virile musk rolling off his heated crotch. “Good girl? You just met me you….Old timey…”, the lights in your brain shut off, “fuck. Fuck.” Your mind was a blank piece of paper, the word ‘breed’ scrawled haphazardly as your hand felt the weight of his erection. 

Vox had never seen you make that face, nor your eyes lose focus and dilate quite like that either. He couldn’t help but glance at the thick appendage in your fist.

A look shot to his own lap, he hadn’t considered girth into the equation… 

Your mouth opened, saliva pooling in your cheeks as you brought him to your lips. Alastor’s hand snaked back to grab you by the hair and gently keep you off of him, not needing someone’s spit slathered on his skin. 

“Okay now-“ As Vox interjected Alastor’s hand sat still on your head.

“I’ll allow it.” The radio demon had a change of heart at the upset tone of his former friend.

Your tongue blanketed your bottom lip to welcome Alastor in, cheeks hollowing from the size of him alone. Why did he taste like that? Like someone you should only view from your knees? A power to his sweat that made your pussy clench. 

Just a few bobs of your head and he was pulling you off, the job done when Vox seemed to slouch back into the chair in resignation. Large and warm hands guided you onto your back and then onto your right side. Your line of sight was your husband-to-be, claws digging into the fabric of his summoned chair.

It was nice to be handled in your heat. To have strong hands move you around your bed as they wanted you, that alone nearly distracted you from the throbbing of your pussy now showing behind your thighs. Alastor lifted your left leg and used it to pull you to him, a wanton whimper from you when he lined up.

His chuckle was more than annoying, but you were in no position to argue. The sound of impatient tapping momentarily took your focus away; Vox’s foot hitting the tile floor. Your eyes followed up his body to meet his stare just in time for you to let out a loud, shakey gasp. Another came before you could catch your breath, the stretch burning as Alastor pressed in.

He began small incessant thrusts, your slick lubricating his intrusion with each withdrawal.

Vox watched entranced as your body seemed to melt into the bed with every snap of the deer man’s hips. You had spent the morning tense and sweating, so to see you so lax and comfortable was momentarily reassuring. But as your head lolled back with Alastor bottoming out, a flame of jealousy began to roar in sincerity. 

“Fuck,” you tried to keep the commentary down to spare your love, but you could feel your walls spreading around Alastor in a way you’d been praying for since you woke up aroused and pained. When he was fully sheathed you had to grip your pillow to keep from rolling onto your back and spreading yourself wider for him. The baser part of your brain urging you to give yourself over to the more-than-suitable mate. 

“You sweet doe, you’re burning up inside. And so swollen. Feeling better?” Alastor said it with such a clear voice you wondered how he was unaffected by your twitching pussy. 

With a nod you buried your face into the pillow clenched in your fists. His thrusts slowed. “Yes,” you ground out. The rhythm picked up again.

“Better than Vox could manage?” He side eyed Vox.

Your left foot came up and pushed at his chin, “Shut up and fuck me.”

“Hmm, afraid I can’t do both,” Alastor pulled out entirely, lower head rubbing side to side as he spread his own precum along your folds. 

Closing your eyes to not see Vox, you mumbled, “Yes.” He wrapped his arms around your left leg for leverage and thrust back into you with a single push. With a shift of his hips his cock hit against your g-spot with every entry. Your breaths quickly devolved into raspy gasps.

You felt a rush of slick as your body responded to the stimulation. The sound of Alastor’s cock sliding in and out of your arousal reached Vox despite being a ways away from the bed. The previous flame in his chest began to lower. Watching your body rock along with the obscene sounds of you being fucked was having an unexpected effect on him. With a gulp he let his hand rest on his lap, a gentle pressure as he palmed his growing erection.

The deep reach of the radio demon’s cock churning up your insides was felt by you and seen by Vox.

“You’re doing so well, dear. Look how wet you’ve gotten.” One hand came down to run past your clit, “I promise to have you dripping.” He turned his head fully to Vox now, “That’s why I’m here, after all. To breed you.” Vox opened his mouth to shout when Alastor rolled you onto your stomach. The curve of his dick resumed hitting your inner spot, wide cock dragging against every inch of your walls. A pleasured cry, your pillow lost. Bringing your legs up and out you let instincts take over.

The yell died in Vox’s throat. His hand shifted to rubbing his cock through his pants. “Are you done yet?” He saw the swelling bulge at the base of Alastor’s own cock.

You didn’t hear the question, only processing sticky flesh slapping together and your own loud moans.

“My knot needs to be bigger. I want to make sure I plug her up well.” Alastor knew he could finish now but he just needed a few more moments of fucking with the overlord. His eyes came to watch himself disappear into your seemingly too small hole, “Is that what you want? To be stuffed with my knot?” 

You vaguely registered his gaze had moved from where you two connected up to your face. A hand coming to tug at your tail and grip it from the base tore an answer from you, “Please. Please, Please.”

“Do you remember my name in that brain fog?” He took both ankles now and pushed your legs as wide open as they’d reach.

Vox could see the shine on Alastor’s growing knot as he seemed to push more and more in with each thrust. His palm felt the slight damp of his precum soaking through his pants.

He had a name? Right. Yes he had a name. You dug through the mess of your thoughts, an empty room of smoke and sensations, and found it. “Alastor. Alastor please!” Vox had entirely disappeared, it was just the thick cocked buck pounding into you in your bed now. 

“Aww, that’s a good doe. And are you ready for my knot?” Your legs struggled in his grip as you attempted to thrust back onto him to take all he had for you. He hummed, hips slowly as he fought back the pending release, “But you’re still so tight… did Vox even try to fuck you?” 

Vox cried out a small, “Oh, come on. Jackass.” It didn’t stop his hand though. He couldn’t argue Alastor was thicker than he was, even his knot seemed unfairly large.

“Fuck you,” you managed, stomach muscles tightening and drawing your body toward him as the pleasure ratcheted up by leaps and bounds. 

Alastor pulled out entirely again, releasing your legs. The whimper you let out momentarily softened Vox’s cock. “I’m sorrrrry,” you pouted, “Come baaaack.” You thought you would cry, as soon as he was out of your cunt the painful throb was creeping back in. You needed his skin on yours. His body in yours. 

You were rolled onto your stomach, his hands wrapping around to pick you up by the hips. On all fours, he sunk back in. “Shh,” big palms stroke down your back, “don’t forget to breath, sweetheart.” Your body was meant to take a knot during heat and you knew you were capable of taking it, but a small panic made you crawl up the bed as the large, throbbing bulb threatened to tear the delicate skin of your opening. Those same powerful hands you praised before now dug fingers into your hips and held you still. Bruises he hoped Vox would have to see for days. 

A small sob as he mercifully forced the rest of himself in with one harsh thrust, his crotch finally coming into contact with your ass. Again, without thinking, you pulled away and saw stars. It took just a second though for your brain to flood your body with the feel good chemicals it had been withholding all day. The pulsing knot vibrating against your puffy g-spit, wide cock head just barely breaching your cervix and flooding your womb and walls with thick cum; it was everything you needed. Your vision went white as your orgasm made your thighs give out, body going limp entirely.

Vox knew very well what it meant as your entire body trembled, hips stuck against Alastor as the rest of you went boneless.

Alastor took a deep breath. It was oddly refreshing, a form of stress relief he hadn’t considered before. Long claws made barely there lines up and down your thighs.

Pressing his chest into your back, he carefully grabbed your body and rolled you onto your side again to face Vox, him still behind you.

Vox stood up, saw the tenting of his pants and sat back down, throwing one left over the other, “Well! That’s finally done with. You can get the fuck out as soon as your freak penis goes back to normal.”

Alastor laughed, your mind entirely having checked out in your blissful state. Your stupid and content smile spread wide as his body shook slightly behind you. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at Vox.

“You went through all the trouble of finding one of the few other deer demons in hell to replace me, yet didn’t bother to learn about her biology.” His grin morphed into a smirk so wide his black gums were showing, “Heats last several days, Voxy.”

༻Masterlist༺

Added July 15th Luci x GN!Angel reader - Yes (Continuation of Lucifer x GN!AngelReader (fic based on Griftwood by ghost))

Added July 14th A Very Hazbin Happy Birthday imagine (Alastor, Luci, Angel, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Vox, Valentino)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies ,

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , , @fizzled-phoenix , @whateverlololo

, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl

, @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain ,

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima a ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby ,

@dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 ,

@star-kujo-platinum @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @rubyninja1 , @simphornies

,

[moonselune]

Hi! I love your fics so much!! I was wondering if you could do the other companions reacting to Orin taking Tav too? I loved the first part you did for the ladies 🥰

Aww thank you that means so much, I really appreciate it x

Astarion:

The camp was eerily silent, the usual hum of conversation and laughter replaced by a suffocating tension. Astarion’s eyes were ablaze with a fury that none of his companions had seen before. His normally charming demeanor had given way to a feral intensity as he stalked around the camp, barely keeping his anger in check.

“How could this happen? How could you let this happen?” he spat at the gathered campmates, though his voice was trembling with a mixture of rage and despair as he rounded on the others. “Orin took them, and you did nothing!”

The others tried to explain, but Astarion was beyond reason. His mind was a whirlwind of dark thoughts, all centered on the image of you, taken by that vile shapeshifter. The thought of you in Orin’s clutches, helpless and in danger, was enough to drive him mad.

“I’ll find them. I’ll rip Orin apart!” he vowed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. Without waiting for a response, he turned and stalked off into the night, determined to find you no matter the cost.

The journey to the Temple of Bhaal was a blur. Astarion moved with single-minded purpose, cutting down any who stood in his way with ruthless efficiency. His fury was a palpable force, driving him forward through the twisting, blood-stained halls.

When he finally reached the altar where you were bound, his breath caught in his throat. There you were, battered but alive. Orin stood over you, a cruel smile on her lips. But her gloating was cut short as Astarion descended upon her with a snarl, his blade flashing in the dim light.

The battle was swift and brutal. Astarion fought with a ferocity born of desperation, his every strike fueled by his love for you. When Orin finally fell, her body crumpling to the ground, Astarion wasted no time in rushing to your side.

He was a near mess as he freed you from your bindings, his hands shaking with relief and residual rage. As soon as you were free, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might vanish.

“Never again,” he whispered fiercely, his voice breaking. “I swear, I will never let you go again.” He pressed frantic, desperate kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips, his tears mingling with yours. The fear and anguish that had gripped his heart finally began to ebb, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief that you were safe in his arms.

Gale:

The moment Gale realized you had been taken, a cold dread settled over him. But that fear quickly transformed into a blazing determination. His mind, usually a wellspring of knowledge and calm, was now a storm of single-minded purpose. He would get you back, even if it meant tearing down the Temple of Bhaal brick by brick.

“We leave now,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl as he gathered his things. His companions barely had time to react before he was already striding out of the camp, his eyes set with a fierce resolve.

As he and the group stormed the temple, his heart pounded with a mix of fear and hope. When he finally reached the altar, his breath caught at the sight of you, bound and at Orin’s mercy. The fury that coursed through him was unlike anything he had ever felt. He unleashed his magic with a primal roar, the spells tearing through Orin’s defenses and striking her down.

With Orin defeated, Gale rushed to your side, his hands trembling as he freed you from your bindings. As soon as you were released, he pulled you into his arms, his body shaking with relief and exhaustion.

“Thank the gods, you’re safe,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he held you close. The adrenaline that had fueled him drained away, leaving him vulnerable and raw. He buried his face in your hair, his tears soaking into your skin. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, your own relief mingling with his. “I’m here, Gale. I’m safe,” you reassured him, your hand gently stroking his hair.

Gale held you tighter, his sobs quieting as he drew strength from your presence. In that moment, nothing else mattered. You were safe, and you were together. The nightmare was over, and he vowed to never let anything come between you again.

Wyll:

The campfire crackled softly, casting long shadows over the companions gathered around it. The atmosphere was thick with unease, as Wyll paced back and forth, his mind consumed with worry. You had been taken by Orin, and the realization left him feeling hollow and desperate. His usual calm and collected demeanor was shattered, replaced by a storm of anger and despair.

"This is my fault," he muttered, clenching his fists. "I should have been there. I should have protected them."

Karlach placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, his eyes burning with determination. "No more words. We need to act," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "Orin has taken them, and I won't rest until they're safe."

Wyll's thoughts were solely focused on you, his heart aching with the fear of what Orin might do. As they entered the temple, his anger reached a boiling point, each step fueled by the image of you in danger.

When they finally reached the altar, his blood ran cold at the sight of you, bound and vulnerable. Orin stood over you, her twisted smile only serving to fuel Wyll's fury. With a roar of pure rage, he lunged at her, his blade cutting through the air with surprising viciousness.

The battle was brutal and swift, every strike fueled by his love for you. Orin fell under his relentless assault, her body crumpling to the ground pitifully.

As soon as the fight was over, Wyll rushed to your side, his hands shaking as he freed you from your bindings. The moment you were free, he pulled you into his arms, his anger melting away into pure relief.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and trembling. "You're not hurt, are you?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "I'm fine, my love. Thanks to you, Wyll."

He held you close, his heart pounding with a mix of emotions. "I was so afraid," he admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I can't lose you. Not ever."

You hugged him tighter, feeling the depth of his love and relief. "You won't," you whispered, your voice steady. "I'm here, and I'm safe."

Wyll smiled, a tear rolling down his cheek. "And I'll make sure you always are," he promised, his voice filled with unwavering determination.

Halsin:

The serene sounds of the forest did little to calm Halsin's troubled heart. You had been taken by Orin, and the guilt weighed heavily on him. As youe love, your heart, he felt a deep sense of responsibility for your safety, and the fact that you were in danger gnawed at him relentlessly.

"This is on me," he murmured, his voice filled with self-reproach. "I should have protected them."

Gale approached him, trying to offer words of comfort, but Halsin shook his head, his expression set with grim determination. "No, Gale. We need to act. They need us."

When they reached the temple, Halsin's heart pounded with urgency. Halsin's thoughts were consumed with you, every step forward fueled by the image of your face and the desperate need to bring you back safely. His guilt drove him, each moment a reminder of his perceived failure. As they approached the altar, the sight of you bound and at Orin's mercy pushed him to the brink. His usually calm demeanor shattered, replaced by a fierce, animalistic rage.

With a violent roar that echoed through the temple, Halsin transformed, his body rippling with raw power as he turned into his bear form. He tore into Orin with a ferocity born of animalistic desperation. The battle was bloody and savage, ending with the remains of Orin's lifeless body lying at his feet.

Halsin quickly reverted to his elven form, his eyes filled with a mix of relief and anguish as he rushed to your side. His hands were gentle but trembling as he freed you from your bindings. Without a word, he pulled you into his embrace, holding you tightly against him.

You could feel the tension in his body, the silent tears that fell onto your shoulder. "Halsin," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I'm okay. You saved me."

He held you closer, his arms strong and protective. "I thought I lost you," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't bear the thought."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes. "I'm right here, and I'm safe because of you."

Halsin nodded, his relief palpable as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "I'll never let anything happen to you again," he vowed, his voice filled with a deep and unwavering love.

Hehehehe hope you enjoyed this! - Seluney

[greenlotusleaf]

I want someone to grab my soft curves, maybe just a little rough, praising and appreciating my post-pregnancy physique.

"I did this to you," they'd say, stars in their eyes. "I made you a milf, and I love it."

They're right, and I could never deny it. "It's true," I'd admit, breathy, hitch in my voice as they squeeze and shake my fat belly, my plump thighs. "You knocked me up, transformed me, into *this*...." and I'd twine my fingers in their hair and pull them in to kiss my belly.

"You got so big for me," they'd gasp out between kisses. And I'd knead my chest and agree: "I couldn't stop growing.... My tits got so swollen, they're still so much bigger than before...." And I'd think about the little chest I used to have, and look down past hands on my bloated udders, to see my lover kissing their way down my soft, empty belly.

"Your belly blew up so huge, and round," they'd marvel, remembering. Then they'd sink their fingers into my yielding flesh, and their voice would take on a little edge: "but it never got all the way back down to the size it was before, huh?"

"No..." I'd be the one gasping now, trying to fit the words around my need and pleasure. They'd tease me with their tongue as I'd confess: "I'm fat now.... I used to be so skinny until you knocked me up and made me soooo fucking fat...." I feel my belly heave and wobble as I practically sob out the words.

"You're fat," they accuse. "You got so big...." I feel my thighs hitch around their shoulders as they tease, and the flesh jiggles, reminding me.

"You did this to me," I whisper.

They pause, withdrawing. "Tell me you love it," they'd murmur into my plump new rolls, finger lazily inside me, not enough to satisfy.

I bite my lip, struggling to hold it together as they pleasure my body. My vast, plush body... "I... I do. I love it. I love how wide you made me, my hips... You made them ache, and spread, and grow.... and now my ass is too fat and my clothes are all so tight and *I love it*....

"I love the way you look at me." The words are tumbling out faster now. "You must be so proud of what you've done to me, you can't keep your eyes off me, or your hands...." My hand moves to caress my belly; I can't stop it from shaking as you play with me. "And the way you look at this belly...I know what you're imagining....

"... And my tits, what you've done to them... They're so much heavier now, it's a reminder... Don't you like them, too, these huge... jugs? You gave them to me, you did this to me, turned me into a big-titty milf, and now I... I'm so heavy all over... I'm so soft! I wobble whenever I move.... You made me a cow...." I press my tits together, deepening my cleavage. For a moment, I wonder if I should moo. Would they like that? Would it be a little too far, a little too weird?

They stand, leaning in, hand still between my legs, hard body pressing against my soft one. Lips brushing my ear.

"I'll do it again."

I gasp, I freeze.

"So... you're a cow, now?"

My heartbeat pounds in my ears, and I buck my widened hips against their hand, fingers still inside me, torturing me, waiting for an answer. When it comes, my voice is small and timid.

"...I'm your fat little cow."

"Oh, but I don't want a *little* cow."

And they'd touch me just right, grant me release, but then they'd put both hands on my belly, letting them sink in just a little, the fat of my belly rising up behind their palms and between their fingers, warm and soft.

"... But I know what I can do about that."

[internet-rat]

Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

You know about his mommy issues, and embrace them~ NSFW below cut~

The heavy wooden door to the shared bedroom creaked open, and Aemond stepped in, the weight of the day's courtly battles evident in the rigidity of his posture and the slight furrow of his brow. The contrast between the harsh world of politics and intrigue and the serene, intimate ambiance of the bedroom was striking. As his lilac eye scanned the room and landed on you, adorned in the delicate pink silk that clung to your form like a whisper, a visible shift occurred within him.

Your soft yet commanding voice, layered with a deep understanding of his hidden desires, cut through the remnants of tension that clung to him. "Come to mommy, my pretty boy..." The words were like a key, unlocking a part of him reserved only for the sanctuary you provided. His battle-hardened facade began to melt away with each step he took toward you.

Aemond moved towards you, his expression transforming from the stoic, unyielding prince to a man yearning for the comfort and dominance only you could offer. The titles, the responsibilities, the expectations—all fell away, leaving behind just Aemond, vulnerable and seeking solace.

Reaching you, his strong arms enveloped you, pulling you against him with a desperation that spoke volumes of his need for your nurturing dominance. The cool silk of your gown pressed against him, a stark contrast to the warmth of your embrace, and he let out a long, shuddering breath, his body visibly relaxing.

"Your day was long, my love," you whispered, the authority in your voice soft but undeniable, guiding him to release the burdens he carried. "Let mommy take care of everything now."

Nuzzling into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, Aemond surrendered to the role you crafted for him, his identity as a prince second to his role as your 'pretty boy'. His response was whispered against your skin, filled with relief and adoration, "Yes, mommy...

As you undressed Aemond, your hands moved with a gentle, reassuring touch, easing the layers of his princely attire away from his broad shoulders and down his strong arms. Each piece of clothing that fell to the floor symbolized the shedding of his public persona, revealing the more vulnerable man beneath. Your soft kisses planted along his jawline and down his neck served as sweet rewards, punctuating your murmured praises.

"Such a good boy for me..." Your words were tender, laced with a dominant affection that resonated deeply within him. Aemond responded with a low, contented hum, his body relaxing further under your ministrations. The intimacy of your actions, the close proximity, and the warmth of your breath against his skin were intoxicating.

His hands, usually so commanding and sure, now trembled slightly as they reached up to touch your face, tracing the contours as if memorizing each detail. This reversal of their usual roles—him so open and yielding, you so nurturing yet commanding—was a dance they both cherished deeply.

As your lips met Aemond's, the kiss deepened with an urgent intimacy, your tongue exploring his in a tender yet assertive dance. The warmth and softness of your mouth against his was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, enveloping him in a cocoon of comfort and arousal.

Your hands, skilled and knowing, trailed down his body with a possessive familiarity until they found their way to his arousal. Feeling his hardness, already slick with anticipation, you gently wrapped your fingers around him, your touch firm yet loving. The sensation of your hand on him, combined with the deep kiss, drew a low groan from Aemond, his body tensing and then relaxing under your control.

As your fingers tightened around him, your touch grew more insistent, stroking in a rhythm calculated to draw every shiver and sigh from him. Aemond's response was immediate and intense, his hips bucking slightly into your grasp, driven by instinct and overwhelming desire.

Hovering just inches from his face, your words tumbled softly yet dominantly against his lips, "Already so big and hard for me... Do you want to be inside me, pretty boy? Do you want to be inside mommy?" Each word was laced with promise and authority, stoking the flames of his desire even further.

Aemond's breath caught in his throat, his eye locking onto yours with a mixture of adoration and sheer need. The way you called yourself 'mommy' struck deeply into his core, tapping into his deepest fantasies and vulnerabilities. He nodded fervently, the verbal reply unnecessary when his body so clearly communicated his desperate 'yes.' His hands, trembling with need, reached up to touch your face, pulling you closer, as if trying to convey his longing with every ounce of his being.

"Please," he breathed out, the word a plea, a surrender, echoing the intensity of his need to be united with you completely, to lose himself in the comforting yet commanding presence that only you could provide.

As you positioned yourself above Aemond, the anticipation in his eye was palpable, a silent witness to the culmination of your shared desire. Carefully, you aligned yourself with him, and slowly—exquisitely slowly—you lowered yourself, taking him in completely. The sensation of filling and being filled was profound, both for you and for him, a perfect union that drew a deep, resonant moan from your lips.

"Mmm~ You feel so good inside of me, my darling..." Your voice was a melody of pleasure and affection, enveloping him as completely as your body did. The warmth, the tightness, the perfect rightness of the connection sent shivers through Aemond, his body responding with a primal urge to move.

As you rode him, the rhythm of your movements initially gentle and teasing, gradually intensified. The slow, deliberate motion transformed, gaining speed and urgency, responding to the mutual escalation of need. Your body moved with practiced grace, each rise and fall designed to heighten the pleasure spiraling between you. The sensation of him thrusting up into you in sync with your motions created a deep, rhythmic dance that resonated through your very cores.

Leaning down, your breath hot against his ear, you unleashed the soft yet commanding tone that you knew unraveled him completely. "Cum all the way inside mommy, darling... Can you do that, sweetling?" Your words, laced with a dominant affection, struck directly at his deepest desires, rendering him both helpless and ecstatic under your control.

Aemond's response was a choked gasp, his body tensing as the twin forces of your command and the overwhelming pleasure threatened to overwhelm him. His hands gripped you tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as if to anchor himself in the storm of sensation you were guiding him through. His eye, wide and focused entirely on you, mirrored the intensity of his internal struggle to obey, to surrender fully to the moment as you demanded.

"Yes, mommy... I—I will..." he managed to articulate, his voice a strained whisper of utter submission and desperate need. The pace you set and the words you spoke drove him closer to the edge, each thrust a step nearer to the release you commanded of him, his entire being focused on fulfilling the role you so expertly cast him in.

As you leaned forward, your movements became even more aggressive, riding him with an intensity that pushed both of you towards the brink. The shift in position allowed you to take him even deeper, and the sight of your body in full command, coupled with the sensation of your firm, relentless pace, was intoxicating to Aemond. Your long hair cascaded around his face, a silken curtain tickling his skin, a sensory addition that only heightened his arousal.

Grasping the bedframe for leverage, your arms showed the strain of your efforts, muscles flexing beautifully under your skin. You looked down at him, your eyes locking with his as you commanded in that irresistible tone, "Give mommy your cum~" The words were both a command and an invocation, spoken with such authority and seductive power that they left no room for anything but compliance.

Aemond was completely undone beneath you, caught in the storm of your dominance and the physical ecstasy you were driving him towards. His breathing grew ragged and desperate, each thrust meeting yours with an urgency that mirrored the rising tide of his climax. The combination of your commanding voice, the relentless pace, and the deep connection of your bodies was overwhelming.

With a groan that bordered on a growl, his body tensed, and he surrendered fully to the command you had given. His release was powerful, spurred on by your words and actions, a testament to the control you held over him in these moments. As he came, his eyes remained locked with yours, raw and open in a way that he showed to no one but you. His climax was a surrender not just of his body, but of his very self, given over to the care and command of his beloved.

[angelbwrry]

needy. satoru.

cw 𐙚 drabble, pregnant! reader, leaking tits,riding, cream-pie, strong language. gojo kinda has a pregnancy kink . . . minors shoo.

gojo couldn’t take it anymore. the way his needy cock is pressing against his checkered pajama pants, he’d tried to contain himself but he just couldn’t. the sight of your fat pussy lips devouring that thong, the way you’re wearing one of his shirts because your round belly makes it hard to wear anything else, the way your breasts have doubled in size and are always leaking—it all drives him insane. he hates to bother you, especially since you toss and turn so much trying to find the perfect position, but he has to.

you were pretty before pregnancy, but now? god, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. he swears your hips have spread and your ass has doubled in size; this baby is doing wonders for you. the way your body has transformed, the fullness of your curves, it’s all too much for him to handle. his mind races with thoughts of you, his desire building with every glance.

“so f’cking wet!” he groans, his head lulling back against the pillows as you ride his twitching cock. his hands grip your hips tightly, feeling the slickness of your arousal coating him. you can see the pleasure etched across his face, his eyes half-closed in bliss.

you lean forward, your breasts swaying with each movement, and he can't resist reaching up to cup them. his fingers knead the soft flesh, thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. you moan, the sound mingling with his own groans, creating a symphony of desire.as you roll your hips, you can feel every inch of him buried deep inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. the friction, the heat, it’s all consuming. you move faster, your movements becoming more erratic as the pleasure builds. his hands slide down to your waist, guiding you, encouraging you to take him even deeper.

“s’ch a pretty pussy baby, now i remember why i got you pregnant” he pants, his voice strained with need. you can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock twitching with every thrust. the sensation is overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.“mm’ fucking my pregnant pussy s-so g-good,” you whine leaning down ,capturing his lips in a searing kiss. your tongues tangle, the taste of him intoxicating. his hands slide up your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss.

as the pleasure intensifies, you break the kiss, gasping for breath. your movements become more urgent, each thrust bringing you closer to the climax you both crave. his hands grip your ass, helping you move faster, harder. the room is filled with the sounds of your passion, the wet slap of skin against skin, the desperate moans and gasps. “i’m gonna cum,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the intensity of your approaching orgasm. he looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust, and nods.

“cum on me sweetheart, it’s yours,” he urges, his voice rough with desire.

with one final thrust, you feel yourself shatter, the pleasure ripping through you like a tidal wave. you cry out, your body convulsing around him, milking his cock as he follows you over the edge. his hands grip you tightly, holding you close as he spills inside you, the warmth of his release filling you.

[transform4u]

Hey. I was preparing countless things for the pride rally in town when I got an email with a file attached to it. The email itself didn't even say anything, but the file has a very weird name 'MagaConmp3' I thought it may just be a dumb prank, but I accidentally played the file instead of deleting it.

As the MagaConmp3 file begins to play, a dull, persistent buzz starts to resonate in the back of your head. This buzz gradually builds into an invasive whisper, its harsh, cruel tone cutting through your thoughts. You glance down at the rainbow flags and protest signs around you, your expression contorting into a sneer of disgust.

Suddenly, a sharp pain knifes through your stomach, causing you to double over in discomfort. You release a huge, resounding fart that ripples through the air, the sound echoing with a strangely unsettling clarity. PPPPPPFFFFFFFT The unexpected noise is accompanied by a violent bout of coughing, each hack reverberating through your chest.

As you cough, you notice an odd sensation creeping over you—your voice deepens, taking on a new, resonant timbre. You begin to rise, but your growing height goes unnoticed. Your boyish face starts to undergo a dramatic transformation, the soft, youthful contours giving way to something more angular and sculpted. The fat of youth melts away, replaced by the sharp lines of a face carved from the very essence of bro’s bravado.

The jawline is pronounced, almost exaggerated, proclaiming “I lift weights, bro!” in bold, silent declarations. Your skin shifts to a bronzed hue, a testament to excessive tanning and an artificial glow of faux-confidence. Your eyes, now squinting through a perpetual smirk, reflect a sense of entitlement and privilege. Your hair is meticulously styled, each strand set in place with military precision, though it perpetually looks like it’s one touch-up away from perfection.

As you breathe in the lingering gaseous fart, you feel a new, unfamiliar sense of self-assurance settling over you. The voice in your head echoes with a taunting affirmation: "That’s it, bro… feel what it’s like to be a real man." This voice is both a command and a validation, wrapping you in a veneer of arrogance and privilege, as you fully embody the swaggering, self-satisfied demeanor of your new, inflated identity.

As the pale skin on your body begins to darken, the transformation is nothing short of radical. The tan spreads with a warm, bronze hue that seeps into your very being, with each passing moment, your physique morphs into an embodiment of sheer, unapologetic muscle-bound bravado.

Your chest swells into an impressive expanse of bulging pectorals, so defined and large that any shirt daring to contain it seems on the verge of bursting. Each contour and ripple of your pecs is a testament to endless hours of bench presses and dumbbell flyes, meticulously sculpted to showcase a dedication to the "jacked" aesthetic.

The six-pack abs below are equally dramatic, each section as pronounced as a topographical map, striated and blocky like granite carved by an artist's hand. They reflect a relentless regimen of crunches, leg raises, and unyielding commitment to physical perfection. Below, your bubble butt—a rounded, firm rear—radiates anatomical excellence, a result of meticulous squats and deadlifts performed with precision.

Your legs become thick and powerful, tapering into massive quads that appear ready to handle any physical challenge with effortless ease. The definition in your thighs is so pronounced that they seem to exert their own gravitational pull. The transition from your thighs to your calves is seamless, culminating in muscular calves as solid as marble.

Your arms are monumental, with biceps and triceps bulging and undulating with an impressive volume. When flexed, they form mountainous peaks that seem to defy physics, each muscle fiber a testament to relentless curling and pressing. The veins in your arms are like serpentine pathways, tracing the immense flow of blood that fuels your muscle-bound glory.

The Adam's apple in your throat stands out prominently, a thick, jutting protrusion that serves as a physical declaration of your masculinity. It seems as if the very essence of manliness has been distilled into this singular, dominant feature.

With each passing moment, you feel a surge of strength coursing through your veins, as if the very essence of masculinity has been injected into your being. Your muscles ache with a delicious pain, a reminder of the countless hours spent in the gym, pushing your body to its limits. You can almost hear the clink of beer bottles and the roar of the crowd from your college football games, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins.

As you stand before the mirror, admiring your new physique, you feel a sense of pride that borders on arrogance. You are no longer the scrawny, liberal weakling you once were; you are a true alpha male, ready to take on the world and dominate in every aspect of your life.

You flex your muscles one last time, watching as they ripple and dance beneath your skin. You feel a sense of power and control, as if you could conquer anything that stands in your way. With a confident grin, you step out into the world, ready to show everyone what a real man looks like.

The voice in your head grows louder, its presence becoming more insistent. It echoes with a tone of affirmation and command: "That's it, bro… embrace the true essence of what it means to be a real man. Relive those moments of glory, let them fuel you. You’ve earned this—every rep, every drink, every party. This is who you are now."

The voice wraps around your consciousness like a comforting cloak, affirming your new identity and the status that comes with it. It propels you forward, urging you to fully embrace this new persona, a symbol of dominance and preppy frat bro culture.

The brash voice in your head grows louder, shouting crudely with a thick southern drawl: "No homo, right bro? You ain't one of those weak, pathetic libtrads, are ya?" Suddenly, your memories of marching in pride parades vanish into thin air. The vivid recollection of that passionate kiss with the cute twink begins to morph in your mind, transforming into a slutty, thin bimbo. You're momentarily confused, your thoughts a jumbled mess, but soon a familiar warmth starts to spread through your body. Your mind fixates on the imagined curves of her breasts, and a cocky grin slowly spreads across your face. You scratch at the newly formed stubble on your chin, feeling the rough texture beneath your fingertips. "Damn, I could use a beer," you think to yourself, craving the bitter taste of alcohol.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you log onto TikTok, ready to unleash your pent-up frustrations. You start recording, your voice dripping with disdain: "Listen up, you weak-willed liberals! It's time someone set you straight. You think you're so damn woke, but all you are is a bunch of pathetic crybabies. Grow a pair and man up, for fuck's sake!" Your rant continues, spewing hateful rhetoric against the "woke" agenda. You feel a surge of pride as you embrace your newfound conservative views, the anger and resentment fueling your every word.

As you scroll through your feed, you come across a video of a scantily clad woman twerking, and you can't help but stare, your eyes glued to the screen. "Now that's what I'm talking about," you mutter under your breath, feeling a rush of excitement. You click "like" on the video, a small act of rebellion against the so-called "woke" police.

The more you immerse yourself in this new worldview, the more you feel like you're finally seeing things clearly. The fog of liberalism has lifted, and you can think for yourself once again. You start following conservative influencers, their words resonating with you on a deep level. You feel a sense of belonging, as if you've finally found your tribe.

As the day wears on, you find yourself drawn to the local bar, eager to drown your sorrows and celebrate your newfound identity. You order a beer, the cold liquid sliding down your throat with each gulp. The more you drink, the louder your voice becomes, your rants growing more passionate and aggressive. You're no longer the quiet, reserved person you once were; you're a proud, unapologetic conservative, ready to take on the world..

As you continue your rant on TikTok, your voice slowly shifts, morphing into a thick, southern drawl. You spit venom at the liberal fags, your words dripping with disdain: "You weak-ass liberals don't know the first thing about being a real man. It's time for you to wake up and smell the coffee, you pathetic excuses for human beings!"

You flex your muscles on screen, your biceps bulging as you strain against the fabric of your shirt. The likes start pouring in, thousands upon thousands of dumb chicks and thirsty fags desperate for your attention. You feel a surge of power, knowing that you hold the reins of their admiration.

Suddenly, a thick, gold cross necklace materializes around your neck, the cool metal resting against your skin. Memories of church and God flood your mind, your faith growing stronger with each passing second. You flex your muscles once again, thanking Jesus almighty for blessing you with such an amazing body. "I am a soldier of Christ," you mutter under your breath, your eyes gleaming with righteousness.

Your phone buzzes with a text message, and you see that it's from one of your horny sidepieces, a dumb bitch who is fawning all over you. She sends you a half-naked photo of herself, and you feel your cock twitch in your pants, growing harder with each passing second. You demand that she meets you at the local bar, eager to plow her tonight. "I'll make you scream for Jesus," you type, a wicked grin spreading across your face.

You sign off to your million Republican followers, your voice booming with confidence: "Catch you later fam, once again this has been Clayton Brock. Later, bitches!" You feel a sense of pride, knowing that you're part of the elite group of privileged white, Republican douchebags. You cackle like a hyena, your mind as dumb as a box of rocks, but your ego as big as the state of Texas.

You head to another bar, ready to meet your sidepiece and unleash your pent-up desires. The world is yours for the taking, and you're not afraid to claim what's rightfully yours. You're a god among men, and everyone else is just collateral damage in your quest for power and pleasure.

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: As you watched Tamaki's tentacles form against the spines of his fingers, you couldn't help the heat that rushed between your legs... you needed him now; it didn't matter that you two were still on a mission.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, boyfriend!tamaki, tentacle play, use of tamaki's quirk (takoyaki), tentacle 'fingering', breast play, suctions, orgasm (reader), tamaki's a skittish lover, he's horny for you but makes sure he takes care of you.

a/n: so you might've awakened a new kink in me cuz i was elated to write this (idk if its my kink in writing quirks just taking over or if i now like tentacles, we'll never know but this was hot to write) wc: 600ish. v-day m.list | m.list

thirst count: 1

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“This okay, Y/N?” A blush had spread across Tamaki’s face, the lavender visor he wore nearly fogging up from the heat from his cheeks as he looked away from you.

Of course Tamaki was timid… and flushed with lust. The both of you were in an abandoned alleyway, away from the hero scene doing God knows what. As one of his tentacles wrapped around your waist, you shivered under the wet slick of them. “Yeah, Ama– we should hurry.” 

You felt your hero uniform nudge to the side and a lengthy coil fell between your legs, creeping up the side of your leg towards your throbbing cunt. His eyes zeroed in on yours for a second as he mouth pressed into a thin line, trying his best not to freak out. You glanced down at his body, to his nimble hand which had sprouted five reddish tentacles from his earlier takoyaki snack. When you watched them transform, you knew you had to seduce him– hoping to get your boyfriend alone.

You said with innocence, “Betcha those tentacles don’t get used often, mind if I see ‘em?”

And here you were, after running your fingers against the suction cups and some sultry words slipping from your mouth– watching Tamaki tremble underneath said fingers as they rubbed against the seam of his tunic, right underneath his plum-colored bags. The white bulge was extremely prominent and you smirked. 

Tamaki had you under a spell, all five of his tentacles clinging onto you– one around your waist, one laying still around your neck, another suctioned to the fabric that covered your chest, and two teasing at your clit. As the two tentacles rubbed against your clit now, pushing beside each other, a whimper fell from your lips. “C’mon, Ama, put one of ‘em in.” 

“O-Okay…” You felt him shudder against you, a heavy sigh falling from his lips as you palmed him and one of his tentacles pressed into your cunt. You moaned loudly, his normal free hand flying to your mouth to try to shush you. “Quiet down please, Fatgum could come looking for us.” 

“Mm, or worse…” As you said that, his tentacle thrusted into you further and you squeezed your eyes shut at the rousing feeling. His suctions pressed against your walls, fucking in and out and you couldn’t help the incoming whines that came from you. “T-Tamaki…”

“Yeah, you doing okay?” He eased out, his other tentacle that housed it way down there playing with your clit. Its tip suctioned into the swell of it, smoothing circles into it as a wet pop–! sounded from your cunt. You were nearing your orgasm way faster than you ever anticipated, his obedience was on par– absolutely exceptional.

“Yeah, make me cum– so close…” 

You were too preoccupied by the heavenly motions against your clit– inside your cunt, you didn’t feel that the one across your chest had slithered its way into your bodysuit. Oh, Tamaki was bold today… tweaking your nipple hard in the latex and humming softly to himself as you clenched around the tentacle inside you. It kissed at your nipple, toying with it as you tried your best to suppress your moans against his palm. 

As you fell apart Tamaki pressed a soft kiss against your cheek, coaxing you through your release with his normal hand soothing over your waist. He pulled his tentacle out, inspecting it slightly and you almost wanted to watch him suck your juices off of it– but he sadly didn’t. 

“I’m buying you takoyaki every week– no, everyday.” You breathed out, both of your hands sliding underneath his tunic and against the tent of his bodysuit. Tamaki squeaked out a tiny noise, pressing closer to you with a skittish expression as he looked down the alleyway. “That’s a promise.”

[stevesgother]

Dress - S.H

Paring - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC - 1.5k

Summary - 2 times Steve Harrington has lost his mind seeing you in a dress that fits you like skin, and the one time he does something about it.

Contains - best friends to lovers, mutual pining, reader is pathetically in love, loosely based off of ‘Dress’ by Taylor Swift. Or maybe heavily based lol

Warnings - steve & reader ARE 18 in this, they just haven’t graduated yet, drinking, vomit. As always, let me know if I missed anything

AN - THIS IS PART 1 OF A WIP. second fic…ever! also my first mini series! i was gonna make it all one fic but i figured it would be easier to digest this way. enjoy :)

Senior Prom - May 1985

Michael Cooper. That’s who was waiting for you downstairs in your foyer, sweet talking your parents while he waited to escort you to your final high school dance. He wasn’t your first choice for your senior prom, hardly even your second; but he was respectable enough for you to be seen on his arm for one night.

Taking one last look at yourself in your vanity mirror, you smoothed your hands down the front of your dress. It was a beautiful baby pink ball gown with lace trim and puffy sleeves. Before you can think better of it, before you can feel guilty for it, you imagine Steve’s reaction when he sees you tonight.

Steve Harrington. Your best friend since diapers. Your mothers grew up together, so naturally when they found out they were pregnant at nearly the exact same time, it only made sense that they would orchestrate your friendship immediately.

As it turns out, not much orchestrating would be required. The second your little baby brains could comprehend what it meant to love another person, the rest was history. Wherever you went, Steve went too. You’re not sure when your feelings for him started to change. The usual calm that washed over you whenever you were in his presence one day seemed to transform into something different. You felt nervous, like someone had released a net of butterflies into your stomach.

You clear your head with a harsh shake and grab your clutch off the bed, making your way downstairs. Michael is waiting for you with a green corsage in a shiny translucent box. ‘That's Sweet,’ you think, “if only it matched my dress.’ 

–

Upon arriving at the gym, the first thing you do, consciously or not, is scan the room for your best friend. You spot him quickly, his perfectly manicured hair and well-pressed suit making him hard to miss. Even harder to miss is the gorgeous, curly haired brunette resting her head on his shoulder.

Nancy Wheeler.

They’ve been together for over a year at this point, even joining your close knit circle of friends. Despite this, you can’t help the nagging sense of jealousy stabbing at your chest, making your face heat up. You tell yourself it’s the humidity inside the gymnasium, and not the fact that you’d give anything to be in her position. You quickly abandon your date and try not to feel guilty for it, making your way over to the happy couple.

“Steve!” You call as you come further into their line of sight.

“Hey you!” Steve stands and gives you a tight hug. “Hey!’ you greet, returning the embrace. He can’t help the way his eyes quickly travel down the expanse of you, noticing the shape this dress gives your body. He prays to any listening God that his girlfriend didn’t notice, that you didn’t notice. “Hey Nance.” You address her with a polite smile. She gives you a hug without warning. Another thing that irks you about Nancy Wheeler: that girl is impossible to hate. You have every reason to despise her, and yet you can’t. She’s kind, funny, strong-willed and beautiful. She’s so ‘girl next door’, she’s so…not you. Occasionally you’ve wondered if it’s a front, that she can’t possibly be that perfect.

“Where’s Michael?” She asks inquisitively; like she genuinely cares where your douchebag date has run off to. A quick scan of the room reveals he’s already talking up another girl by the photobooth. There’s not one part of you that gives a shit. “We were just thinking about grabbing some food, wanna come with?” Steve nods his head toward the various appetizers they have set up on tables decorated with gaudy tinsel and tablecloths. “Yeah, why not?”, you smile and it doesn’t reach your eyes.

–

An hour and 2 cups of spiked punch later, ‘Heaven’ by Bryan Adams starts to play and you feel like you might hurl. Nancy’s face quickly lights up and she gives her date a knowing look, “Steve! Let's dance! Please??”. She’s immediately pulling him away from the table where you’ve been watching them flirt all night. Her delicate hand resting on his bicep, his large one finding a home on her thigh. He sends you a sympathetic look as he rises; sorry that he has to leave you there, sorry that you won’t be slow dancing with anyone tonight. He has no idea.

Your date is long gone. The two of you going together was a ticket inside and nothing more.

The air in the gym is suffocating and frankly smells of sweaty basketball shorts, so you decide to make your way outside for some fresh air. The romantic serenade of Bryan Adams’ voice is nothing more than a quiet lullaby as you lean against the brick wall of your high school.

You hear him before you see him. “Hey stranger,” the open door momentarily lets the humidity escape and you feel it wash over your skin. “you alright?” he asks with a half smile.

“Yeah just,” you say looking around, “getting some air is all,” returning the expression. He imitates you and decides to lean on the wall, a little too close for comfort. You’re all but slapped across the face with his scent. Cinnamon, a no doubt expensive musky cologne, and sweat. You can feel him looking at you, so you decide to meet his gaze; praying that he can’t see the crimson shade of red creeping up your neck and cheeks simply from standing next to him. You feel so pathetic at times like these. 

“Nance found a couple of her girlfriends, figured it’d be a good time for a smoke.” He pulls a cigarette out of his suit jacket pocket, and lights it. His hand cupped to cover the breeze.

“Those’ll kill ya, you know?” you smirk, knowing. You’ve always teased him for his bad habits, especially this one. “Yeah well,” he says in an inhale, “now’s as good a’ time as any, right?”

He grins at you, smug. It sends you reeling and you hope your thundering heartbeat doesn’t give you away. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

After a few minutes of silence, he stomps his cigarette out on the pavement and turns to fully face you. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

His words steal the breath from your lungs and your breath hitches in your throat.  Steve’s complimented you before, thousands of times. So why does this feel like you’ve just been slammed into a wall of concrete?

“Steve…”

You feel like he’s getting closer. You’ve definitely had too much to drink.

Before you can stop yourself or even comprehend what’s happening, you vomit all the contents of your stomach directly onto Steve’s perfectly polished loafers. He yelps, most in surprise, slightly in horror. Despite that undeniable foulness of the situation, his hands immediately move to hold your hair back, just in case you aren’t, well, finished. 

You don’t realize it, but you’ve started crying. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. You’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He starts to lead you to his car in the parking lot, leaving you here alone not an option for him. “What about Nancy?” you sob, “I’ll come back and get her, honey. Don’t worry.” Honey. You almost puke again.

Once he settles you into the passenger seat of his pristine BMW, you watch as he toes off his shoes and throws them in the garbage. When he slides into the driver's seat and turns on the ignition, he turns and brings a palm up to cradle your jaw. “Guess I’m gonna have to keep an eye on ya next time,” he chuckles, “can’t handle your mildly spiked punch.” You groan, but give a breathy chuckle of your own, “Just drive, Harrington.”

When you arrive home, you breathe a sigh of relief at the lack of your family car in the driveway. Your mother would certainly pitch a fit if she saw you like this - mascara streaked down your face, an obnoxious yellow stain down the front of your once flawless dress. Steve leads you upstairs with a hand on the small of your back, and a palm cradling your elbow. You know you’re not drunk, and you’re almost positive that wasn’t the reason you spilled your guts. But the alternative to just letting Steve take care of you would be admitting that you love him, that you’re in love with him.

You don’t bother taking your makeup off, Steve just helps you change into an old t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts. “Lights on or off?” He asks as he pulls the covers up and over you, “Off, please.” he gives you a little two-finger salute, “you got it.” Just as he’s reaching underneath your lamp shade you whisper, “Steve?” he looks, “yeah trouble?” “I’m sorry for ruining your night…and throwing up on your shoes.” you give a sheepish look. Even though he would have every right to be, you know he’s not mad at you.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of your head,”the shoes we can discuss at a later date,” he shoots you a wink, making sure you know he’s only teasing.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Without another word he closes the bedroom door, bathing you in darkness. Just before you succumb to sleep, you’re filled with dread at the thought that you’re gonna remember this in the morning.

Cheers to senior year.

[babydollmarauders]

MARSHMALLOW — JOHN MARINO

john marino x fem!reader

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which y/n and her boyfriend get up to no good at the Devils christmas party

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, alcohol, cussing, extreme domination, heavy degradation, oral (m receiving), p in v (unprotected), i think that’s all? (3.6k words)

notes: welcome to day 4 of the 12 days of kinkmas! this is quite possibly the most degrading smut i’ve written so far, so if you ignore the warnings and go ahead and read it anyways, don’t come crying to me if you didn’t like it <3

“oh c’mon Johnny!”

Jack’s grating voice floats over the rest of the noise that bounces throughout the captain’s apartment, his hands gripping John’s shoulders as he shakes the boy from behind.

“you don’t wanna take a body shot off your smokin’ girlfriend?”

John’s head whips around to look at his teammate, a scowl resting on his face, “don’t call my girlfriend smokin’.”

“is she not?” Jack laughs, wiggling his eyebrows at the older boy.

“of course she is,” John states, shrugging Jack’s hands off his shoulders, “but you don’t get to think so.”

i roll my eyes at my boyfriend’s possessive nature, slinking closer to his figure, which stands besides the empty kitchen island.

“alright, alright,” Jack caves, “but if you won’t take the shot, someone else will.”

i can practically see the gears turning in John’s head, his eyes flickering between me and Jack.

“no, they will not.” i chime in. my hands come to rest on the defenseman’s chest, slowly traveling up to his shoulders before locking behind his neck.

“nobody else’s lips or tongue are coming anywhere near my body, baby.” i assure him, pulling his head down until his lips are mere inches from mine. “if you don’t want to, that’s okay. but you’re the only one allowed to touch me.”

“damn right, i am.” John gruffs, his eyes darkening as he pulls away. he pats the empty counter. “hop up, beautiful.”

a sultry grin pulls at my lips, hastily following his orders and pulling myself up onto the counter.

the kitchen full of hockey players cheer, any wives and girlfriends whistling as i pull my tank top off, leaving me in only a dark red bralette.

John’s hand connects lightly with my collarbone, gingerly pushing me backwards until the heated skin of my back makes contact with the cold marble countertop.

a shiver rolls down my spine, one side of his lips quirking up into a smirk. he takes hold of the ziploc bag of crushed peppermint candy cane from the counter, sprinkling a small bit on my sternum between my breasts.

Jack hands me a mini marshmallow from the bag in his hands, whilst Dawson hands his friend a shot glass of luke-warm cocoa with peppermint vodka.

“THREE!” the crowded kitchen counts down and i stick my tongue out, placing the mini marshmallow near the tip of my tongue.

“TWO!” John readies, shaking out any nerves as he prepares to down the muddy brown liquid.

“ONE!” i blink up at my boyfriend.

“GO!”

John clinks the shot glass against the counter before throwing the cocoa back into his mouth in one big gulp. his head dips down, his wet tongue dragging up my cleavage, collecting the crushed candy cane.

a shaky breath passes my lips, resisting the urge to throw my head back in pleasure at the feeling of his tongue and hot breath against my skin.

his face pops into my view as his tongue presses against mine prior to capturing it between his lips, sucking the marshmallow off of my tongue.

my eyelids flutter closed, eyes rolling back in my head. he releases my tongue, hastily transforming the movement into a deep kiss, his lips locking with mine before he pulls away.

Jack and Dawson shout, shaking their friend around as he smiles goofily.

“fuck yeah, Johnny!”

John rolls his eyes playfully, shaking his friends off. he steps back over to the counter while i sit back up, my legs hanging over the edge of the counter.

his hands wrap around my hips, lifting me off the surface and placing my feet back on the ground. he swiftly grabs my discarded tank top off the counter, shoving it into his back pocket as i press my chest to his.

“Johnny.” i breathe out to grasp his attention. he looks back down at me, his sight ripping away from Jack to find me gazing up at him.

my eyes are dark, pupils blown and breathing heavy as i sink my teeth into my bottom lip.

“baby,” he drags out, voice dropping in warning.

“that was so hot.” i whisper, lust dripping from my words as my hips push against him, his semi-hard bulge pressing against my pelvis; letting me note that the experience was just as sexy for him as it was for me.

“we’re at Nico’s.” he reminds me quietly, his lips grazing my ear.

“he won’t notice.” i state, my head nodding over to where his captain stands, immersed in conversation with Timo.

John scans the kitchen, finding everyone minding their own business, talking amongst themselves and paying no attention to us.

“fuck.” he curses, his hand grasping my own. he yanks my arm, pulling me out of the kitchen, down the hall to Nico’s guest room.

he shoves me into the room, slamming the door behind him. he steps closer, fingers digging into my waist as he spins us around, my back harshly meeting the door. his lips crash against mine, my hands holding onto his shoulders, straining on my tiptoes in order for my lips to meet his.

his tongue swipes across the seam of my lips, one hand sliding down to squeeze my ass, pulling at one cheek and making me gasp. he takes the chance to shove his tongue past my lips, tangling with mine while he uses his grip on my ass to pull me closer, his quickly hardening erection brushing against my heat.

i can feel my dampening panties stick to my core, making me let out a whine at the feeling.

John rips away, red swollen lips brushing against mine. he walks backwards, pulling his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor.

i follow after him until he stops near the end of the bed, hooking my fingers into the front of his jeans.

“on your knees, sweetheart.” he demands, taking pleasure in the way i immediately drop down in front of him.

his eyes darken, biting his bottom lip as he stares down at me. his fingers drop down to the button of his jeans, slipping the metal through the hole and unzipping before he pulls them down, his boxer briefs falling down with them.

his cock springs free, nearly slapping against his abdomen, tip red and angry, precum beading at the slit.

my thighs clench together, my mouth salivating at the sight.

“look at you,” he tsk’s, shaking his head. “such a fucking whore, clenching your thighs together.”

his hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back to look into his eyes and drawing a gasp from my lips.

“so horny, just from a fucking body shot.” he gruffs, ��bet you’re fucking soaking. aren’t you?”

i mewl, nodding my head shortly.

“that’s what i thought.” he huffs in disapproval. “such a slut, i bet you would get worked up like this if anyone did that shot, wouldn’t you?”

he gives me no chance to answer before he speaks again.

“hmm? you’d get this worked up if fucking Nate did that shot, wouldn’t you?” he yanks at my hair again, my jaw falling open as my eyes roll back, shaking my head. “words, slut.”

“no.” i whimper, “no, no. just you. only you, Johnny.”

he hums in approval, his grip loosening in order to pet my fallen hair out of my face sweetly.

“yeah? prove it.” he croons, “suck my cock.”

my hand wraps around the base of his length, squeezing, and i begin to pump him slowly. my lips fall back open, my tongue lolling out as i lick up the underside of his cock, tracing the bulging vein that rests there.

when i get to his tip, he shoves my head down lightly, urging me to take him in.

“shit.” he curses as i slide him into my mouth, my warm tongue flattening on the underside of him as i relax my throat, bobbing my head. my hand stays wrapped around him, jerking what i can’t fit.

with each bob, his tip hits the back of my throat, coaxing a gag out of me amidst his moans.

the sound of christmas music and loud conversations still float through the crack under the locked door, covering our noise from the world outside of this room.

i peer up through my lashes, finding his chin tilted down, his eyes set on me. his jaw is slack, and i run my free hand over the ridges on his abs, feeling them tense under my fingertips.

a mix of saliva and precum drools from my lips, providing lubrication for his cock to slip farther with each head bob.

i pull off of him with a pop, my tongue darting out to lick his tip before my lips close around it, sucking gently while my tongue swirls.

his gasp is like music to my ears, his grasp on my hair tightening, pulling a moan from my throat. the vibrations travel up his cock, making it twitch, and he lets out a loud groan.

his hand slides around to cup my cheek, forcing me to look up at him again as my hair falls to frame my face.

“you think you can take it all, baby?” my lips leave his tip, my hand still jerking him, and i nod. his thumb traces my bottom lip as he speaks again. “yeah? you think you can be a good girl for me?”

i nod again and he takes my consent. his hand goes back to holding my hair up in a makeshift ponytail as he pushes my head further down, and i relax my throat, letting him thrust in until my nose touches his pubic bone.

i focus on breathing through my nose as he stills, basking in the feeling, but the moment quickly falls when i begin to gag. he uses his grip on my hair to pull me off of him, watching me as tears roll down my cheeks.

“again.” i whisper, my voice hoarse from the abuse of my throat.

“you sure?” his eyes are soft, but as i nod, they darken once more. he guides himself back into my mouth, making quick work of thrusting this time. rather than stilling, he begins to fuck my face.

moans pour from his lips, his head falling back in pleasure.

“you’re so good.” he hisses. “just a cock hungry little whore for me, aren’t you?”

i hum in agreement around his cock and his hips begin to stutter, his guiding of my head quickly stopping as he pulls me off of him for the last time.

i look up at him and his hands lock at the nape of my neck, tugging me up into a bruising kiss.

my body falls against his, my lips parting, and he slips his tongue in, tangling it with mine. my hands explore his body, smoothing along his bare chest and up to his shoulders.

“tell me what you want.” he speaks against my lips, his tongue flicking across them. “you want me to fuck you like the whore you are, right?

“you want me to use you for my pleasure; fuck you dumb until all you can scream is my name.”

his words go straight to my core, only making me wetter. a whimper resonates from my throat, a smirk growing on his lips at the sound.

“i need you to say yes, baby.” he lays kisses up my throat, leaving wet marks in his wake, until he reaches my ear. his lips ghost my outer ear as he whispers. “i need to know you want it before i treat you like the dumb, drippy little cock whore that you are.”

a shaky breath passes my split lips, my jaw relaxed as he continues his attack against my neck.

“i want it.” i tremble at his touch; his hands trailing up my hot skin. “i want it so bad, John.”

he pulls away, leaving goosebumps littering my body at the loss of his touch.

“strip for me.”

John takes a seat on the bed, staring at me with watchful eyes, and i’m suddenly insecure under his gaze.

my hands shake as i pull my bralette over my head, my pebbled nipples hitting the cold air and causing chills to wrack my body.

his eyes lock on my breasts for a moment before dragging down my body, watching as i pull my skirt down my body, my panties being dragged down with it.

his hand reaches out to pull me toward him, between his spread legs, and my hands thread into the hair at the nape of his neck.

he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my stomach. he trails up my body, leaving wet kisses in his wake. his lips follow a path between my breasts, agonizingly slow until he reaches my neck.

he nips at my skin, sucking and dragging his tongue over the spot before he pulls away, blowing cool air against the spot and making me squirm in his grip.

he stands, twisting me in his arms before spinning us around so my knees hit the edge of the mattress. he gives me a shove, bending me over the bed, and i brace myself on my forearms, my ass brushing against his dick.

“you’re glistening for me.” he remarks.

i jolt as his fingers swipe through my slick folds, spreading my wetness around my cunt, and he chuckles lowly when i cry out as he thrusts a thick digit into me suddenly.

“Johnny.” i sob out, rolling my hips down against his hand.

“god, you’re so fucking needy.” he grunts, pulling his hand away and making me groan in want. “i’m gonna ruin you.”

his hand closes around the front of my throat, his other wrapping around the base of his cock, guiding it through my moisture. my back arches when his tip hits against my swollen clit, a broken whimper dropping from my lips when he shoves into me.

“shhh, be a good girl and take this dick.” his grip on my throat tightens, his other hand grasping my waist.

he uses his touch to anchor himself as he pounds into me, his tip hitting repeatedly against my g-spot.

he swiftly hooks an arm around my leg, bringing it up to kneel on the bed in order to open my pussy even further for him.

tears already prick my eyes but this new angle brings a high pitched moan from my lips, my face falling forward and hair dropping down. my arms feel weak, shaking underneath me.

“this pussy was made for me. made for me to use; to get myself off in.” John’s voice is tight and strained, his hips slapping against my ass as he speaks. “say it.”

“i-it-” i stutter, struggling to speak over the sounds of his cock thrusting into my wetness.

“i-i-i-” he mocks me. his hand from my throat drops down to roughly squeeze my breast, “have i fucked you dumb already?”

“it was made for you.” i squeak out, back arching again as he twists and pinches at my nipple, “my pussy is yours to use.”

he drops down, his sweaty chest pressing against my back, his lips pressing against the nape of my neck before he brings them to my ear.

“good girl.”

he stands back to his full height, hands on my waist, using his grip to push me forward and pull me back onto his dick, moving me with his thrusts; manhandling me like his own personal sex doll.

“touch yourself.” he orders, “rub your clit like the needy little whore that you are.”

my hand dips down between my legs, making my upper half press into the mattress, and my middle finger slowly begins to rub the puffy bundle of nerves.

John gives my ass a harsh smack, coaxing a scream to bubble up my throat, and he hastily leans forward, shoving his fingers in my mouth.

“unless your screaming my name, you shut your damn mouth. do you wanna get caught?” he hisses.

“i- no- i-” i babble around his fingers, and he shoves them slightly deeper against my tongue.

“jesus, i really have fucked you dumb.” he spits, “i said to shut your mouth, do you understand?”

i nod my head as best as i can with it pressed into the mattress.

“good.” his thrusts speed up, urging my finger on my clit to rub faster, and i can feel a familiar pit forming in my lower stomach.

repeated murmurs of his name frantically form in my mouth around his fingers, my eyes rolling back and my body twitching as i clench around him.

“don’t come.” he demands, and i whimper as i try and hold back. “i’m close. don’t you dare fucking come.”

the pressure builds, tears falling from my eyes and onto the bed sheets as i try and hold back my release.

he fucks into me rapidly, losing his rhythm as his hips stutter, his dick twitching inside of me.

“come.” his one word spurs me to finally let go, my toes curling against the carpeted floor and my breath hitching in my throat as i finally release on his cock.

his cum spurts out in ropes, covering my insides and making further squelches as he fucks me through our orgasms. his fingers dig into my waist, surely leaving bruises, and a grunt leaves his clenched jaw.

he thrusts a few more times before pulling out, the empty feeling making me whine.

his hands begin slowly caressing up and down my back in comforting lines.

“hey.” he coos, using his strength to lift my frail figure off the bed. my legs wobble as i stand and he spins me around to face him.

his eyes are soft, filled with love and the familiar sense of home that i’m used to.

“are you okay, baby?” his hand cups my cheek, his thumb dragging to wipe the drool from around my mouth. i hum, nodding my head softly. “did i hurt you?”

i shake my head and he shakes his in return.

“i need words, beautiful. reassurance.” his voice is gentle, and he presses a light kiss to my forehead.

“you didn’t hurt me, Johnny. i’m okay.” i assure him and a small smile plays at his lips.

“how are you feeling?”

“good,” i start before adding, “sticky.”

he laughs and a grin spreads across my face at the melodic sound.

“let’s clean you up, and then you can decide if you wanna go home or go back out to the party.”

he guides me to the en-suite bathroom, gathering a few cottonelle wipes from the pack on the back of the toilet, and i bend over the counter, wiping the mascara smudges from around my eyes as he cleans me up from behind.

“you’re so beautiful.” he whispers, my still bare ass pressing against him as he leans forward to drop kisses along the tops of my shoulders. “i love you. you know that, right?”

i nod, peering back at him with puckered lips. he locks his lips with mine, twisting my body around mid-kiss in order to wrap his arms around my waist, locking them at the small of my back.

“i love you too, John.” i utter against his lips and he pulls away to give me a wide smile. i scrunch my nose at him, his head dropping back down to rub his nose against mine.

“let’s get dressed.” i nod, leading the way back to the bedroom, and we get redressed, John finally returning my tank top from earlier in the night.

“do you wanna go home?” he asks me once we’re fully clothed.

“no.” i shake my head, my hand resting on the wrist of his hand which cups my cheek. “let’s go back out and celebrate the holidays with our friends.”

“and then, when we finally do get home, we can take a bath.” i add, making him nod.

“whatever you want, love.”

his hand slips down to hold mine as he unlocks the bedroom door, opening it up and slipping back out into the still wild party.

“ayo! there you are!” Jack cheers as we find him in the living room, wrapping an arm around John’s shoulders. “was beginning to think you guys left with an irish goodbye to go home and fuck.”

John chuckles with Jack, shaking his head.

“nah, we’ve been around.” he assures his shorter teammate.

he slings his arm around my shoulders, my hand still holding his, and i peek over to look at Nico, who stands quietly next to Dawson, who speaks a mile a minute in his captains ear.

Nico finds my gaze, raising his eyebrows and smirking over the top of his beer bottle. my face flushes in embarrassment and fear that he knew what happened in his guest bedroom, but then his eyes dart to the side towards Dawson and i realize he’s giving me a ‘get a load of this guy’ look.

i giggle, burying myself further into John’s side, who gazes down at me mid-conversation and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“so, y/n,” Luke sidles up next to me, a spiked eggnog in his hand as he escapes the never ending flow of words that come from his older brothers mouth. “have fun?”

my head whips over to look at the young defenseman, a smirk resting on his lips. i tell myself that he’s just making conversation, asking if i’m having fun at the party, but then his eyes flicker between me and the hallway that houses the doors to the bedrooms and blood rushes to my cheeks.

fuck.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

bad f*cking friend: part 1

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male masturbation

part 2 part 3

rafe wakes up in the middle of the night, unsure of what caused the sudden jolt that shook his body. he waits for a noise, for a light, something that gives away what disrupted his slumber, but he finds nothing.

his eyes dart to your side of the bed. he had almost forgotten you were sharing it with him, until his ears picked up your deep breathing, clearly still asleep, so you weren’t the cause of him being awake right now. his eyes flutter closed, feeling the warmth from your body even though you’re a foot away. it’s radiating under the covers, enticing him to get closer, but he knows he can’t.

it was a fluke, a mistake made by the hotel. the room that should have contained two queen beds contained just one king, and all other rooms were full for the night. you shrugged and said you could share. you’d done it before, afterall, but not since you were kids. before you had grown taller, fuller, before you transformed in front of your best friends eyes from an awkward little girl with pigtails and braces to a beautiful woman, with piercing eyes and an ample body.

it’s what makes sharing the bed different this time. rafe is supposed to be your friend, but the thoughts that infect his mind when he’s around you now are anything but friendly.

rafe realizes, now that he’s thinking of you, the reason why he woke up in the night with the room cast in darkness, only a dull light coming in from the moon and stars of the open curtain. you’re on the fifth floor after all, no one can see us. that’s what you’d said to him, in your sickly sweet voice that makes rafe want to kiss you and more until he knows what that voice sounds like calling his name in pleasure.

his hand snakes down his torso, he briefly imagines it’s yours, but then shakes his head. bad friend, he thinks to himself. he presses his hand over the crotch of his pajama pants, feeling how hard he is, so hard it’s painful. you’ve taken all of the comforter in the night, and rafe can see himself. see the way he’s straining against the material.

the blood supposed to be supplying his brain, making him make good, rash decisions, must have all flooded south, because before he can help himself, rafes hand is down his pants, underneath his boxers, and wrapped firmly around his shaft. he almost lets out a groan, but settles for a light sigh in relief instead, eyes flickering over to you, making sure you don’t move.

he can’t help it. it’s your scent, it’s the knowledge that you’re right there next to him. that underneath the covers keeping you warm, is your flimsy excuse for pajamas. a loose shirt that falls just right on your breasts that theres no guessing whether you are wearing a bra or not, the answer is clearly no, the outline of your nipples visible no matter how you adjust the shirt to lay over you. and then the shorts. rafe is positive they only cover an inch, no more than that, more than your underwear does. they’re tiny.

a thought suddenly races through rafes head, making him give one firm, steady stroke of his cock. are you even wearing underwear?

it’s too much for rafe. he knows he should get up. he knows he should just finish himself off in the bathroom, not right here where you could look over at any time and see his hands down his pants. he takes a deep breath and pulls his hand out, even though his cock is still begging for attention. 

“y/n.” he says softly, a whisper his own ears barely pick up. “y/n.” he repeats your name slightly louder, looking for movement on your side, but it’s all still, just the gentle up and down of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

rafe lets out a mental curse. bad fucking idea. but his hands are moving faster than his mind is, pushing his pants down just enough to reach in, releasing himself from the confines of the cotton. his eyes stay on you even as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock. it’s partly to make sure you don’t wake, that your eyelids don’t even flutter, and if they do that he can tuck himself back into his sweats before you see. but the other part, the bigger part, is that he’s thinking of you.

bad fucking idea. bad fucking friend. but as his hand strokes up and down, his eyes and his mind stay on you. he thinks of the first time he realized you’d grown up. it was on his dad’s boat. rafe took you and a couple other friends to swim, and when you whipped off your cover up to reveal the almost indecent bikini underneath, rafe felt a feeling rush through him that he never imagined he could have had about you. pure, almost uncontainable, lust. 

he had shook it off that day when you looked at him and teased him. it reminded him that you’re his childhood friend, not a woman to be lusted after, not a woman he should masturbate to. he threw himself at your friend that you brought on the boat with you. it was wrong, and he imagined you the whole time, but he fucked her that day, back at tanneyhill after you went home. he fucked her so deep into his mattress, pressing her face into the pillow and plowing her from behind. but she didn’t have your same hair color, didn’t have your soft waist or grabbable hips.

your hips. rafes hand speeds up, thinking about touching them. about laying his hands over them, about squeezing them. 

his eyes flutter closed as he pictures what your ass would look like uncovered by material. what lies in between your thighs, what he’d do anything to get any part of him on, his fingers, his tongue, his cock. what your face would look like twisted in pleasure. how you would moan, and he would be the cause of it.

rafe’s eyes snap open, regretting closing them as you rustle, turning to face him. rafe holds his cock at the base, ready to tuck it in, to hide it in shame, but while he can’t see your face now that it’s hidden in shadow, you fall still again. rafe lets out a silent prayer to whatever is keeping you asleep right now, wondering if you’re dreaming of him since you’ve plagued his dreams for the past few years. sometimes it’s innocent. holding your hand, hugging you, but most of the time his dreams of you cause him to wake up in a puddle of sweat and rush to take a cold shower. it all seemed so real, how he’d fuck you against the wall while you whine for him, trying to keep quiet. how he’d bend you over a countertop, or get down on your knees for him. but those are just dreams.

his hand starts to move again, satisfied that you’ve been still and quiet for long enough that theres no way you are awake, even if he can’t check your eyes. surely you would have said something if you were awake. surely you would have been shocked by his hard dick, standing at attention in the moonlight and let out some sort of noise, some sort of gasp. but his ears didn’t pick anything up.

his cock is pulsing in pleasure. it’s not the first time he’s masturbated to you, but he’s never done it with you so dangerously close. it’s thrilling, thinking of you waking up, of catching him. what your response would be. would you sink your lips down on his cock, would you watch in fascination, would you turn away in disgust? 

the first time rafe masturbated to the thought of you was kind of on accident. you posted a photodump on instagram and tagged him in one of the pictures, and the notification popped up midway through a masturbation session where he was very studiously keeping you out his thoughts, focusing on the porn pulled up on his phone. sure, the actress looked like you, but that certainly wasn’t why he picked it, at least that’s what he was trying to convince himself of at the time. he clicked the notification and cummed before he swiped through all the slides when there was one of you in a swimsuit, lying on a towel with a book on your stomach, clearly going to be picked right back up and continued to be read once the photo was taken.

your legs were slightly ajar, so rafe could see a peak of material between your thighs, and that was where his eyes had focused when he burst, cumming harder and longer than he ever had before. 

he continued to jerk off to you after that, no point denying to himself anymore the effect you have on him, but he tried not to look at your pictures. he liked the image of you in his head, like he could separate the real you, his friend, the one he’s known since kindergarten, with the naked, impassioned person of his daydreams.

rafe lets out a moan before he can help himself. it’s quiet, would have been barely audible if there was any other noise in the room, but even the highway outside the hotel has gone quiet. he keeps himself more alert now, not letting himself get lost in the lust, lost in the way his thumb swipes over the head of his cock, imagining it’s your tongue against tip.

he needs to get off, desperately, he knows that there’s no stopping it now, but he needs to do it quickly and quietly, already risking so much, especially now that you’re facing him. you could blink your eyes open at any point.

rafe goes faster. he hates not being allowed to draw out his pleasure. it’s shameful how long he spends masturbating when it’s to the thought of you. when other people would be on their phones, winding down watching tv or scrolling through social media. rafe is on his bed, eyes squeezed shut, hand around his cock and you on his mind. 

he thought once about telling you. confessing, maybe not that he’s been spurting white all over his bedsheets to the thought of you for the past year, but at least his attraction, but when you came over the next day to hang out, you thanked him for always being such a good friend as he listened to you complain about your annoying college professor, and rafe knew he couldn’t say anything. he couldn’t betray you, sweet, innocent you, the one who not just wanted his friendship, but needed it. 

rafes breathing increases in speed, panting as he brings one hand to grip the bed sheets. he is about to cum, so close to letting himself go, but then he realizes he can’t just let himself go over his own pants, visible for you in the morning sun to see the white stains, so his hand slows. he wants to groan out, he almost wants to cry, feeling a bite of tears in his eyes, but he holds them back.

not knowing a better solution, he is as silent as he can be as he takes his shirt off, cringing at every rustle of the fabric as he takes it off. he drops it into a heap on the mattress next to his hip, ready to grab and collect everything. he will just pass off being shirtless in the morning as getting too hot in the night. 

his hand returns to his cock, hips raising slightly to meet his strokes, grateful that this hotel mattress isn’t squeaking and revealing how bad of a friend he’s being to you right now. rafe swears he hears you make a little sound, but it must just be a sleep noise as you remain still.

he imagines you loud, so loud that you’re screaming for him as his hands are on either side of your head, his hips driving into yours, grinding down onto your clit. he imagines his lips pressing against yours, swallowing your sounds of pleasure as you cum together, your body lifting upwards, pressing against his.

it’s the thought of finishing together, with himself pushed as deeply inside of you as your body allows, that has him cumming, free hand grabbing his shirt and throwing it over his cock to catch his cum. he bites his lip hard to stay quiet, tasting the metallic tang of blood, releasing his lip with a quiet gasp of your name as his orgasm reaches it’s peak. his hand has to slow suddenly as he becomes overly sensitive.

his last thought before he releases his cock from his grip is of you laying on the bed, legs spread with thighs glistening, cunt leaking, breathing heavily with closed eyes from pure satisfaction of the love making session rafe just gave you. 

he stays like that for a moment, just breathing with that thought in his head, your hair splayed on the pillow, mouth ajar, forehead sweaty, but eventually he has to pick up his shirt, making sure everything is clean on his body as he crumples it up, keeping all of his cum inside so that you’ll never know his dirty little secret. he hisses quietly as he tucks himself back into his pants.

now that the sudden thing that pulled him awake is taken care of, sleep is quick to take back over, whole world turning to black. rafe lets out a smile right before sleep takes him, knowing his dreams are again going to be of you.

part 2