Tumgik
#Dresses as Weapons {Wardrobe}
vulpinesaint · 5 months
Text
transition goals (at a point in my life where i can say "halloween is an extremely important holiday to me. you may have guessed this" and just gesture to myself and get laughs from classmates)
9 notes · View notes
tosinwithagrin · 2 months
Text
TAGS 3;
0 notes
gunbasharch · 1 year
Text
TAGS , part 2
0 notes
gunbasharchive · 1 year
Text
tags  pt  1
0 notes
pseudowho · 13 days
Text
The Rebounds
Tumblr media
When your boyfriend dumps you, Maki and Yuuta know exactly how to cheer you up.
I don't normally write "aged up" fics but...here we go.
Warnings: 18+, soft!Dom Yuuta and less-soft!Dom Maki (bit of a drill sergeant really), lingerie, sex toys, threesome, double-penetration, alcohol use
+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+
"You're...breaking up with me? After everything I've done for you-- don't you dare hang up-- bastard!"
You flung your phone across the sofa, burying your face in your hands, barely suppressing a tearful, infuriated scream. He was shit, but he was yours, and he had the audacity to toss you out like yesterday's newspaper--
A knock on your door. Not caring who it was, you snapped, shouting.
"Fuck off! I'm not home."
"Hey! Lose the attitude." Your door swept open with a bang, rattling against the wall. Maki stepped in without apology, dropping a bagged Cursed weapon on your doorstep, "You're the one who asked me to bring this--...what's up with you? Are you crying?"
Yuuta peered in behind Maki, dark hangdog eyes spotting you, concerned; "Crying? Hey, what's happened?" Yuuta nudged past Maki, stepping over to you, and grasping your shoulders, soft calloused hands surprisingly strong against your skin.
Arms around your knees, you hid your face, ashamed for being such a blotchy mess; "He dumped me. Just...called me up, and dumped me. Like I'm trash."
Yuuta's face crumpled for you, the briefest flash of anger, overlaid with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, Maki interrupting.
"Finally. That piece of shit was never worth yo--"
"Maki," chided Yuuta, still stroking your shoulders, gripping and possessive. Maki tsked, arms folded, turning aside, hovering between you and the door.
"...you shouldn't waste your time worrying about that guy," Maki offered, voice tight but softer now. She was silent for a moment, and Yuuta looked to her, silent agreement passing between them.
"She's right," offered Yuuta, bright, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs, cupping your tearstained face. Yuuta looked to Maki again, a glint of something odd in his eyes. Maki nodded, barely perceptible.
"...in fact, you should come with us. We're going out! Dinner, drinks...we'll show you a good time instead, yeah?"
You prickled with shame again, eyes squeezing shut as Yuuta shushed you, pulling you to your feet, pushing you to Maki who began to bustle you to your bedroom while you argued weakly; "--...no, guys, I-- I'm not third wheeling, I don't need you to take me with you out of pity-- I'm interrupting--"
They spoke over you, Yuuta still holding you by the shoulders from behind while Maki perused your wardrobe.
"--'third wheeling', psh--"
"How could we ever pity our lovely friend--'
"--not interrupting anything, what do you think this is, huh--"
"Just some drinks, some dinner, maybe a bit of shopping..."
Maki held up a little red dress, looking to Yuuta; Yuuta nodded. Maki flicked her hand at Yuuta, banishing him from the room, before stepping to you, brandishing the dress.
"Get changed," she ordered, "or I'll do it for you."
You pouted, grumbling, beginning to strip while Maki rummaged for shoes. She pulled out some trainers, comparing them to your dress. Her eyes narrowed at you, half dressed, turning aside again and holding the shoes out to you.
"These. You'll look...cute." You scoffed, brushing your hair, making yourself presentable.
When you stepped out, Yuuta looked you up and down approvingly, catching Maki's eye again with that same unreadable glint; "His loss! You're our pretty girl for today then, huh?" You blushed, churlish that their attempts to cheer you up were working.
And treat you well they did, knowing you as only old friends do. Within a few hours, you found yourself smiling again, laughing alongside them as you ate, all of you handsy and affectionate; Maki, feeding you as Yuuta took photos of you both, eyes soft and full of love; Yuuta, reaching over to whirl little circles on your inner wrist; both of them, leaning in close, pressing against you as you broke down, sobbing quietly into your soju.
You hiccuped, the floral alcohol cut with your salty tears; "I just...I just don't understand why...why I'm not good enough..." you gulped, knocking back another shot.
"You're beautiful," Maki snipped, bluntly refilling all of your glasses, "and he couldn't see that." She slipped an arm round you from behind, her fine slim fingers coiling over your hip, stroking you.
"But we can," Yuuta cooed, "and we'll treat you like you deserve to be treated...because you are beautiful." His fingers continued to draw soft circles on your palm, your inner wrist, heading up your soft sensitive forearm. You shivered, the alcohol making your nerves electric, receptive. Yuuta smiled at your shiver, face leaned on one palm, eyes dark as they trailed, intoxicated, down your body. He sighed.
"I don't think she believes us, you know," he said to Maki. Maki huffed, her fingertips kneading at your hip as she tugged you closer. She took another shot, refilling her glass and pressing it to your lips.
"Open up," she commanded, smirking as you swallowed, some of the sweet wine dripping down your neck and breasts in your haste. You felt Maki's breath catch as her eyes followed the droplet.
"You're all sticky," Maki chastised, her finger grazing the drop away, pressing into your mouth so you could suck it off her finger, "...messy girl." Your skin burned, feeling like forbidden fruit beneath their touch. Yuuta watched you suck the soju off Maki's finger, the strange glimmer in his eyes growing deeper as his head dipped downwards, fringe flicking forward over his eyes.
"You're right," he hummed to Maki, whirling his glass, eyes still dipped and flinty as he took in Maki's arm around your waist; the way she pressed a kiss to your temple; how you slumped against her, supple and seeking warmth; how your fingers twitched as his drew hearts over your inner arm.
"She is messy," Yuuta continued, finishing the last of the soju, "we should...get her cleaned up, huh?" Maki smiled into your hair, humming, laughing as you trembled under her warm, botanical breath.
"Guys," you hummed, swoopy and warm with the drink, "you don't have to do this--"
"Have to?" Yuuta laughed, pulling you forwards by the forearm so you were nose to nose with him for a moment, close enough that his lips brushed against yours as he spoke, farqq enough to almost be an accident; "We don't have to...we want to. You deserve the best date. Right, Maki?"
Maki was already up, a smile at the corner of her mouth as she helped you to stand. You blushed, sputtering.
"--a date, I--guys--"
"Friends can go on dates," Maki insisted, her arm round your waist as Yuuta loped beside you, bopping his forehead to your shoulder, "but while we're here...there's something I'd like to get. Come on."
You were steered into a lingerie shop, suddenly surrounded by fragrant musk, silk, lace and erotica. You laughed as Yuuta gripped you by the waist, twirling you in the low lights. He smiled, pulling you into his deceptive softness, penetrating your defences. He dipped you back to some unheard tune, leaning down to bracket you, whispering;
"See anything you like?"
With his gaze fixed firmly on you, your eyes caressed the bras, chemises, the beautiful indulgent treasures. Yuuta saw your eyes linger on a set, and nosed your jaw;
"That one, huh? You're so pretty anyway, and that one would be..." Yuuta left the sentence unfinished, and you became acutely aware of his closeness, body flush to his lean strength, something so dangerously hypnotic about him. You felt undressed, already, in his arms.
Maki had reappeared, a subtle paper bag in her hands. She communicated wordlessly with Yuuta, again, following your gaze. Rifling through the rails, and casting an appraising eye over your body, Maki settled and headed to pay. Opening your mouth to argue again, your breath caught as Yuuta pulled you up from your dip, the drink and attention rushing to your head once more, feeling so loved, so wanted. Maki cast her eyes up and down you both, slow, predatory.
"Home?" So much unspoken promise, from just one word. Maki's eyes lapped at your body, enough to make you tremble. Yuuta and Maki held you between them. You could hardly remember the journey home, their touches edging you somewhere between uncertainty and euphoria. You accepted it without question, as you had always accepted their love.
Stepping into your apartment, Yuuta closed the door behind you. He stayed with his back to you, fingers tapping against the door handle. You had leaned, head tipped back against the wall, sighing, softly drunk, heartbeat between your legs. You tipped your head to look at Yuuta questioningly as he spoke, his voice quiet and measured.
"Hey, Maki...go and get set up, yeah? I don't...I don't think I can wait any longer," he finished weakly, laughter on his breath. Maki smirked, her burns like a bed of rose petals in the low light.
"Alright." Maki leaned in, pressing lingering kisses to your forehead, your nose, hovering just so above your lips. Her fingertips brushed your jaw, and she whispered; "Yuuta's gonna get you warmed up, okay baby?"
Maki walked away, taking your breath with her. Yuuta filled the gap, and you burned alive under their attentions, his hands pressed to the wall either side of you, trapping you in his gravity.
"What do you deserve, pretty girl?" He whispered, shaky with restraint. All the wrong answers tried to claw their way out of you; Yuuta's eyes beseeched you to choose better for yourself, his lips achingly close to yours. You bit, to Yuuta's satisfied smile, choosing better.
"Y-you," you stuttered, meltingly desperate, "I deserve you."
Yuuta responded with a kiss; his self-restraint snapped, and he overlaid your body with his against the wall, melding to you as his hands tangled into your hair and his mouth to yours. You could taste the soju on his tongue, and you moaned softly, opening your mouth to him. Yuuta responded in kind, tilting your head to the side, his palms cupping your face, lips wet and trembling.
You could feel the breaths caught in his chest as his tongue stroked against yours, fingernails scratching at your scalp, hot and needy. Yuuta shunted his knee forward between your thighs, pinning you against the wall, one hand dropping to your hip, brushing under the hem of your dress to yank you down, pussy flush against his wiry thigh.
Pulling back, panting, Yuuta squeezed your cheeks in one hand, forcing your lips into a pout. Gritting his teeth, growling softly through them, he gave your face a gentle affectionate shake; "You taste like peaches, cutie, I always knew you would."
You squirmed, rutting yourself on his thigh, eager for relief in your aching core. Still squeezing your cheeks, giving them one soft slap, Yuuta tipped your face so you looked down at his thigh, his cock straining against the material of his trousers.
"I'll be honest...we've been waiting for you to break up with him. Even better that he ditched you...should we send him some pictures? Huh?" Reaching into his pocket, pulling out his phone, Yuuta turned your squished pouting face to the camera, and, pressing his lips hard to your puffy cheek, took a photo.
Yuuta groaned to feel you still humping him, desperate for friction. His hands dropped to your hips, rutting you against his thigh. He bit his lip, breathless, shaky as he tucked up your dress, watching your wet underwear barely covering your pussy, sliding against him. He laughed, soft, barely holding himself back from lifting you up and taking you against the wall.
"Oh baby," he teased, "not like this-- you deserve better--...and Maki's feeling left out, right?"
You jumped to hear Maki's voice to your right, head tipping as Yuuta lapped lazily at the fabric covering your nipples, spit seeping through, warm and wet; "I dunno...you two are putting on quite a show. Come to the bedroom. Date's not over yet." Yuuta moaned against your breasts, feeling their plush heave against his lips, his cock jumping against his thigh.
"Come on, peaches," he whispered, breath cooling your spit-wet breasts, "You've got a pretty outfit...it's Maki's turn with you...and I wanna watch."
Yuuta drew back from you, panting, gripping his cock through the light fabric of his trousers. If Maki hadn't stepped in, lifting you, wrapping your legs round her waist, your trembling knees would surely have given out. Nuzzling her nose against your mouth, stealing light kisses along the way, Maki chuckled, smirking; "You taste like Yuuta." You bit your lip, suddenly shy, nuzzling your face into Maki's neck as she laid you down softly onto your bed.
The room flickered with dulcet candlelight, smelling something fruity and familiar. Maki stood over you, taking a sip from a bottle as Yuuta crept in behind you, settling in an armchair beside the bed, still pawing at his aching cock.
"Wait-- Maki-- don't swallow...you should let her have a taste," Yuuta pressed, watching with hungry, hooded eyes as Maki hummed, smiling down at you. She leaned over you, one knee pressed between your thighs, one arm over your head, and pressed her pursed lips to yours. Kissing deeply and forming a seal, Maki slowly eked her tongue between your lips, drops of warm peach soju moving from her mouth to yours.
The body-warmed fumes rose up your nose, filling you with sweet botanical delight, bringing you back to the hazy drunk warmth you had felt during dinner, as Yuuta had stroked your arm so sweetly. Maki deepened the kiss, thrumming with excitement as she heard Yuuta unbuckle and unzip himself, letting his cock fall, hard and twitching, onto his belly.
Maki pulled your dress down your shoulders, trapping your arms for a moment, until they released, the red fabric sliding all the way down and pooling over your lap. Maki grasped your underwear with it, shooting Yuuta a wicked look; "Don't look-- she isn't dressed yet."
Yuuta laughed, one hand lazily pumping his cock, and he brought the other up over his eyes, still grinning. You couldn't take your eyes off him, stroking himself to Maki kissing peaches into you, masturbating to her rolling your clothes down off your body. Yuuta listened instead, his hearing piqued to the soft fabric rustle of your dress hitting the floor, and Maki lifting the dusty-rose chemise out of the bag.
"Taste like a peach...look like a peach," she pressed, brushing the chemise over your bare breasts, mouth watering at how your nipples pebbled and peaked under the sheer chiffon. Maki leaned into you again, ghosting her lips over yours; she caught your eyes, dragging your gaze over to Yuuta, biting her lip-- "If you think Yuuta's cock looks pretty now...wait until you're all dressed up."
"Maki!" Yuuta whined, his cock pre-cum-wet and twitching in his fist, his eyes still covered, "Stop. You'll make me blush." He paused, his hand and breath hesitant, "Is she...is she watching me?"
Maki grinned, wicked; "mmmmmhm." Yuuta groaned, long and anguished, squeezing the base of his cock again to stop himself from spilling over his lap, squeezing the hand over his eyes. Maki only laughed, standing back, pacing like an animal as you slipped into the pink chemise, split at the front, lighter than blossoms.
"Oh, Yuuta...you should see her," Maki praised, and you blushed, feeling so much more desirable under the gaze of a beautiful woman over a man, "she really is lovely." Yuuta had slowly dropped his hand from his eyes, hand cupping his cockhead with a shiver as he drank you in, supple and glassy-eyed beneath Maki, who rolled two pink rubber buds between her fingers.
Taking another sip of her soju, leaning in to kiss you again, you felt Maki graze something over the barely-there fabric covering your nipples. Suddenly so thirsty, lifting your hands to tangle in her short hair, Maki moaned into you as you kissed harder, drinking from her, desperate for more. Finally, you spoke.
"Maki, I-- don't leave me like this, give me something," you whimpered, your clit throbbing and needy, knowing you needed the barest of touches to bring you to completion.
"Don't be a brat," Maki chastised, making you blush and bite your lip up at her, "Or can you not wait? Do you want me to stop? Yuuta, shall I stop?"
"No!" You cried, you and Yuuta simultaneous in your desperation, him edging his weeping cock so fervently, you thrumming with the need for release, the day's little touches and promises and drink, all rolling into the slowest orgasm you had ever had built.
Maki smirked, and abruptly clamped two rubbery clips over your nipples, pinched hard beneath rosy fabric. You squealed, and cried out, bucking as she switched them on, sharp vibrations shooting through your nipples, tugging like a fishing line, making your clit throb with need.
Maki watched you writhe, slowly stripping her own clothes, hesitating for a moment as her burns became bare in the candlelight. Yuuta felt her, shaking with closely controlled restraint as he looked at her and you, eyes sticky-sweet.
"--my two beautiful girls, huh?" He grinned, circling his cockhead with a wet thumb, "...how did I...ever get so lucky?" Maki blushed, biting her lip as she finished stripping, looking down at you, mewling and squirming, in awe. She knelt down over you, smiling, a long, vibrating dildo at her fingertips.
"Yeah...you're right. We struck gold." Maki watched you, captivated as you babbled, whimpering, begging, tears streaming down into your hair. Yuuta felt a drip of sweat run down his chest, unbuttoning himself, letting his top sit open, releasing his cock with clenched knuckles, eager not to spend himself until he could be inside you.
Maki squeezed lube onto your glistening pussy, making you jolt and shiver with the sudden cold, until Maki shushed you again, kissing you firmly; "Be patient...I'll warm it up." You and Yuuta moaned, both twisting in divine bliss as Maki slipped her slim fingers between your folds, finding your clit with the expert precision of another woman, circling it with two delicate fingers, alternating pressure, toying with you.
"Inside," Yuuta barked, authoritative in his desperation, huffing, his cock twitching against his belly, "--tell me-- tell me how she feels, Maki." Maki obliged, her fingers dipping lower, grazing over your entrance, covering you with cum-slick lube.
"...silky..." Maki described, to Yuuta's chipped groans, "...and..." Maki hit your knees with her own, spreading your thighs wide, baring you to her, and she plunged two fingers deep inside your fluttering cunt, gasping with delight, "...tight...like wet velvet."
Yuuta cursed under his breath, his head tipped back, hand clasped over his mouth as he began to pump his cock again, jerking himself back to the edge. Maki pumped her fingers into your sloppy pussy, bringing one thumb up to work on your clit.
You came embarrassingly fast, the accumulated touches throughout the course of the day too much, and you felt your arousal trickle out over Maki's fingers. Her eyes furious with focus, Maki continued to thrust her fingers in and out of you, her thumb moving to stimulate your clit from another angle, expert in her gentle overstimulation.
Maki bit her lip, thrilled by her own unmet need, throbbing under Yuuta's obsessive stare. The self-denial while watching you fall apart beneath her was delicious. You cried out, clutching her arms, trying to wiggle your hips away from her as she yanked you back to her, hushing you.
"Come on, baby," she pushed, "just one more...then you can have Yuuta's cock, 'cos he can't last any longer." One sideways glance to Yuuta, arched backwards and serene with the edge of his orgasm, sent you over the edge again, and he gripped the base of his cock once more as you arched, crying out, lights popping in your vision and fizzing down your body.
"Maki--" Yuuta urged, voice brittle with need, "--my turn-- need her now--" Maki huffed at Yuuta's lack of self-restraint, smirking at him, whining, hand wet with pre-cum. Maki lifted you up off the bed, soft and floppy, knees still hanging over the edge, and Yuuta slipped underneath you, mirroring your position, eagerly lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance. As he moved to push into you, his arms gripping you from behind, an arresting clasp across your chest and belly, Maki gripped him by the cock, stopping him as he cried out, voice hoarse.
"Hey, did I say she was ready?" Maki sniped, rolling her eyes as you and Yuuta moaned and argued with her. Her hands still covered in lube, she took the vibrating dildo she'd been fingering for so long, rolling it in lube and your generous, sticky cum. You trembled, reading Maki's intent immediately.
"Maki, I-- they won't-- won't both fit," you squeaked, Maki humming at your meagre protests as she rubbed the dildo at your entrance, switching on the vibration and edging it slowly past your swollen, puffy entrance.
"I dunno," she mused, "I wanna see how fast Yuuta cums like this." Yuuta shuddered, his cock still gripped in Maki's hand, Yuuta squeezing you harder above him as you trembled and shook, the dildo hitting your cervix, sending vibrations deep into your belly.
Maki stroked Yuuta's cock, throbbing in her hand as he bucked, teeth gritted, sweating with restraint; "Maki," he snapped, "let me fuck her-- I swear to god I'll kick your--"
"--careful special grade. Don't threaten me with a good time." Yuuta coughed, tormented, blinkered by his own impending orgasm as you writhed, blinded by your own pleasure in his arms. Maki was almost overcome by the sight of you both in blissful agony beneath her, almost cumming untouched, the tension of the build-up so much better than the payoff.
Maki finally released him, dropping to her knees between yours and Yuuta's. She lifted your legs, draping them over Yuuta's thighs, and pushed Yuuta's knees, forcing your legs to spread. She kept the dildo vibrating inside you, juddering with incoordinate twitches now, floating above yourself.
Finally released, Yuuta bit into your shoulder, groaning in your ear as his cock started to press into you alongside the vibrating dildo, stretching your pussy more than it had ever been stretched, so full, from cunt to belly; "Just hold onto me, peaches, yeah?"
In one swift thrust, Yuuta bottomed out, shouting and cursing, his cock gripped by the slick, impossibly tight heat of your pussy, the dildo vibrating relentlessly against the underside of his length.
"--oh my--shit, Maki, 's too muc, fuck! Ohhh fuck-- fuck-- fuck--"
Maki leaned in, two fingers rolling over her clit as she lapped yours into her mouth, flicking her tongue across you, sucking, nipping, tasting the peach lube she had covered you with. Lost in this semi-drunk haze, she continued to edge herself to the sight of you, spasming in forced orgasm after orgasm, under her mouth.
Yuuta rutted up into you helplessly, arms shaking around you. His seed spattered your cervix and the dildo white, cumming so violently that he curled in on himself beneath you, forcing you to curl with him. Maki watched it all, pupils blown, stroking her clit just enough to keep herself from orgasm.
You continued to pant and whimper, still so full, your pussy clenching urgently, wildly overstimulated. Maki took pity on you both, switching the dildo off, slipping it out of you and letting it drop with a wet cum-splatter. It pulled Yuuta's dripping cock out with it, and you whined, suddenly so empty, Yuuta nuzzling and kissing your cheeks, trying to bring you both down from your high. He chuckled, breathless in your ear
"What a date, huh? You should get dumped again, sometime."
661 notes · View notes
bashtian · 2 years
Text
tags.
0 notes
2corvusossifragus · 1 year
Text
i wanted to make an oc ask game 😋 things i like to ask people abt their characters:
are they associated with a certain color? what color do they wear the most?
what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?
weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?
how crafty/resourceful are they?
how do they typically dress? does their wardrobe lean more towards practicality or aesthetics?
how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?
favorite animal? why?
do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?
favorite food? least favorite? are they a picky eater? do they have any dietary restrictions?
if they wear jewelry, what kind? do they prefer silver or gold? do they have a favorite gem?
what do they have in common with you? how are they different? would you get along with them?
how long have they been around? do you know their birthday? is their birthday the day you made them or another day? what do they think of celebrating birthdays?
what languages do they speak? how fluently?
are they any good with numbers?
how big or small is their family? who did they live with growing up? do they live with anyone now?
do they have any pets? what do they call their pets?
how did they spend their summers/free time as a child?
their opinion on lying, stealing, and killing?
are they quick to anger? what sets them off?
if applicable, can they drive? if they have their own, what color is their vehicle? is the inside neat and tidy, or a mess?
their favorite place to be?
do they sleep well at night?
how would you describe their voice? can they sing?
do they have any creative hobbies? (art, writing, music, etc)
how good/bad is their hearing? what about their eyesight?
how do they move? are they clumsy? light on their feet? do they use mobility aids?
if applicable, do they have a favorite sport? do they play any sports or prefer to watch?
how do they show that they care about someone? how do they express that they don't like someone?
are they associated with any particular element (air, earth, fire, water)?
do they smell like anything notable?
do they like receiving gifts? giving gifts? what is their ideal gift?
do they have any habits that aren't particularly self-destructive, just maybe odd?
if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.
how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.
do they ever return home?
4K notes · View notes
cityandking · 1 year
Text
oc asks: character design edition
FACE & FEATURES
glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?
face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?
stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?
motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?
stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?
canvas: Does your OC have any scars, piercings, tattoos, or other markings? Do they display or cover them up at all?
CUT & CLOTHES
night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?
day: What does your OC wear on a normal day? Why do they default to those clothes? Do they wear similar things, or do they change it up?
formal: What's your OC's formal look? Do they like dressing up? Do they have different looks for different occasions?
informal: What's your OC's lazy-day look? How do they like to dress when they're winding down?
outerwear: What's your OC's outerwear situation? Jacket, sweater, cloak? What sort of weather do they deal with most and how do they protect themselves?
footwear: What does your OC wear on their feet?
road: What does your OC wear while traveling? Do they have high-quality equipment, or are they making do? What does their gear look like?
armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?
arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?
roots: Is your OC's look inspired by any specific style of clothing or fashion trend? What are the roots and/or inspiration for their look?
texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?
wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?
ACCESSORIES & ACCENTS
bling: What jewelry does your OC wear? Does it have any meaning?
hair: How does your OC wear their hair? Does it have some kind of meaning?
makeup: Does your OC wear makeup? How often? What kind? Why do they wear makeup, and do they like it?
favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?
change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?
alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!
5K notes · View notes
Note
ok im listening to a spencer reid playlist and "marry me" by bruno mars came on and all i can imagine is its like a week or so after spencer had proposed, and he comes home to reader dancing/singing to the song while cleaning or baking. i would love to see this as a fic 🥺
Sneak Peek
Tumblr media
Summary: Spencer comes home from a case to find his new fiancée, Reader, in rare form.
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Fluff, kinda sunshine/grump
Content warnings: None
Word count: 1.2k
A/N: Here ya go, babes 🩵
Tumblr media
Finally, Spencer thinks when he sees his front door. For work, hours on the jet to and from Quantico don’t take as much of a toll on him as one would expect. Passing the hours with debriefs, cards, reading, and sleeping is something he’s grown accustomed to for years at the B.A.U.
This week, however, was different. Before this last-minute case in Cheyenne, Spencer popped the question to you (with the team’s help with set-up and delivery). Of course you said yes. He barely had time to fish the ring from his blazer pocket before you burst out with your answer. But you barely got to enjoy the first 24 hours of being engaged before the team was called to Wyoming the next morning.
But now, it’s Saturday, so that means you’re home. He can already hear music on the other side of the door when he twists his key. Quite an upbeat tune, unusual for your typical taste. While he sticks to classical composers, normally you’re drawn to calm acoustic songs with minimal production. But what he hears when he opens the door is pure pop.
He couldn’t help but smile as he stepped into the apartment, as the familiar scent of home hit him with the smell of something in the oven. You never cook. And you never bake. But Spencer knows what fresh cookies smell like. He followed the sources, rounding the wall that divided the entryway from the kitchen. And there was when his heart skipped a beat. You were there, in a dress, dancing and singing along with the lively tune, completely immersed in a housewife experience of your own making.
This is nothing but out of character for you. You and Spencer regularly put work first before anything. It is expected in your fields that you prioritize work over each other at times. So your wardrobe was mostly pantsuits and black pumps. Prentiss often gave you suggestions on where to shop for your go-to outfits. Which is why Spencer was so stunned to find you in a dress, flowing around your calves as you twirled on the tile floor. Your hair swayed with every movement, and the joy in your eyes was infectious. The room seemed to come alive with the energy you were exuding. 
He drank it in, marveling at the happiness radiating from his fiancée. He didn’t think simply clearing his throat would be noticeable. But it was. And suddenly, your batter-doused whisk/makeshift microphone became your weapon of choice. “Spencer!” You exclaimed.
Spencer put his hands up in immediate surrender, his heart momentarily pounding for a different reason. “Woah, it’s okay. It’s just me.”
Your footing in the small space caused you to lose the rhythm of the music as you stumbled. Your socks gave you little friction, but Spencer was quick to save you from mild embarrassment. Granted, his degrees and experience in profiling didn’t exactly prepare him for impromptu dance saves, but he caught you with surprising grace.
“Careful there,” he teased, still holding onto you. “The team will have some choice words with me if they find bruises on you, no matter where they came from.”
You scoffed. “Wow, bruises. So romantic. What a way to greet your future wife.”
Spencer shrugged before lifting you back to your feet, making sure your feet were stable before letting his hands slide from your shoulders. They glided down to your palms as he extended your arms out. “Well, I can certainly say your greeting exceeds mine by miles.” He looks up and down at your dress; a plain green that hugged you at the waist. “I didn’t know you owned any dresses.”
“Hm.” You said. Your hands rolled with his, urging your fingers to link. “I managed to slip something past the genius in this house. Guess you’re not as observant as I thought.”
Spencer’s brows rose as his jaw dropped, instantly ready to roll with this. Sarcasm was something he had to pick up quickly with you, as it’s your default tone. And you have yet to stray after three years. “I’m observant.” The shock translates through his response.
“Clearly not as much as you like to think.” You untangle one of your hands from his and it creeps to cup his cheek, rough with little stubble. “Barely a week of being engaged and you’re already slipping.” You click your tongue as you shake your head.
“I’m very observant. I notice a lot, thank you.” He pulls you close. His now free hand snaking around your waist, just letting your noses brush. He notices how your mouth opens slightly, expecting a kiss as your exhale grazes his upper lip. He was planning to kiss you then and there, and whatever happened next, he was more than happy with.
But you called him out. So now he has to prove you wrong.
“You didn’t sweep up all the flour off the floor.”
Your eyes were half-open, one of the most vulnerable looks he gets to see. But it fizzles as the information clicks in your head. “What?”
“Your socks.” He gestures down to them.
And you look. Black socks were definitely not the wisest choice.
“How many times did you screw up the cookies?” He asked.
“I didn’t screw them up… too much.”
Spencer’s brow quirked.
“Just more flour than the recipe called for. But only because the bag was so difficult to open.”
So, you spilled it. But he kept that part quiet, as you were already turning pink. “How much salt did you use?” He asks instead. Because he’s not above being too gracious.
“Not much.” You bit your lips closed. “Just the standard amount.”
“The standard amount? Did you throw some over your shoulder for luck?” He brushes some grains he spots sticking to your collarbone.
You were still pink, and Spencer could feel the heat rise off your skin. “We… may need to get more sugar from the store.”
“What did you—”
“Not important. The cookies will be ready in three minutes. So, do you want cookies or not?”
“Hm,” He says, eyes glued to your shoulder again. “So if this is sugar…” And he leans down to kiss your shoulder. His mouth is warm against your skin as it scales across the center of your clavicle. His lips brush them before leading up to your neck. 
“This is the greeting I expected.” You say.
“Oh, really?” He follows the pulse point that he’s learned makes your knees equivalent to jelly. When he kisses there, but doesn’t let his teeth scrape the delicate skin just yet. He closes his eyes, to get lost in the moment, in you, a bit faster. The excuse of sugar on your skin has long been exhausted, but you indulged regardless, indisputable by the small sounds that escape you as he kisses more. The arm that holds your waist braces to take on your weight when he nips.
And down you go. But he catches you. Once again
“Does my future wife expect more?”
You say nothing. You swallow dryly, but Spencer understands that as a yes from you. He keeps you both still. Nipping again while his other hand takes free range around your dress. It makes you mewl, and he’s close to hoisting you to bed.
“The cookies—” You remind him. “Can’t let them burn. The timer says—mm—two minutes.”
“I have plenty to keep me occupied for two minutes.”
701 notes · View notes
hothammies · 6 days
Text
Tumblr media
concept designs for the zombie apocalypse au i'm working on - pt. 2 (small au details under the cut regarding their wardrobe)
---
max's design
takes off her jean jacket during supply runs / fights - used to be billy's jacket
signature weapon is a sawblade baseball bat - was taught how to swing from billy but the bat was modified by dustin
lucas' design
has started wearing jackets less and switched to dress shirts - the jackets were getting in the way of his new shoulder holster
signature weapon is a crossbow / revolver - the best marksman of the group and most knowledgeable with guns (his dad taught him everything as a war veteran) can really use anything!
dustin's design
found his vest off of some dead biker guy, thought it looked sick, and hasn't taken it off since - he puts pins on it to personalize it
no real signature weapon because he tends to stick away from fighting, more support - he knows basic fighting skills but is a beast with his crafted weapons (e.g. bomb traps, molotovs, etc)
is the pack mule when it comes to supply runs - he stays with mike and will to scout but brings a heavy backpack with possible backup supplies / weapons if need be
---
other notes: wanted to share that the apocalypse starts in 2019 while the kids were born in 2015. the first arc of the story takes place in apocalyptic 2028 and so on (their current designs are for arc 3). reason? i wanted them to experience some of the music and technology up to the 21st century :] i'll make a more official story thing later! maybe i'll write something for this au or draw a comic? idk my creative writing skills are pretty weak but we'll never know until we try LMAO
377 notes · View notes
kangnina · 11 days
Text
MDNI
a/n: a little mix of two Sunoos I previously concocted on my old blog thatonenoona; Stylist!Sunoo is a hard dom and Sunoo who secretly reads your diary... The latter Sunoo never came to fruition until now.
Here is Part 2
------
Roomie!Sunoo thought he knew you. If you were a final exam, he firmly believed that he would 100%-- For sure– No studying– party all night, show up late for class and still ace the test. That is how confident he was about knowing you. His bestie. Sunoo always has you dressed to kill courtesy of his profession as a stylist. But as your roommate, he’s also seen you on your worst days, obliterated drunk or down for the count with the flu. Head down in a toilet bowl while he tries to keep you from drowning in your own vomit.
Roomie!Sunoo is trying to keep his eyeballs in his head and his dick in his pants as he silently scans your diary. In his defense, it was disguised as a textbook, mixed among the other books you told him to grab from your desk. He had no intention of invading your privacy and therefore weaponizing your little journal to fulfill his and your secret fantasies.… BUT HOW COULD HE NOT?! Now that he knows you’ve been craving his cock since day one. Your words. He snaps a few pictures of the pages with his phone before putting it back where he found it.
Roomie!Sunoo asked you to come to his studio tonight. He needs your advice on a dress he designed for an upcoming fashion show. He asks you to try it on and you begin to undress in front of him as you’ve done dozens of times before. But this time you catch his eyes glued to you in the reflection of the wardrobe mirrors. Your body feels hot under his intense gaze. He realizes you are watching him watching you. Sunoo does not look away. His face softens a little but the smile doesn’t reach his amber eyes. He looks like he could eat you whole. You look down at your feet as you quietly stand, wearing only your bra and panties. You swear your core is throbbing just as fast as your heart. Sunoo pulls the dress off the rack and hands it to you. “It’s your favorite color Princess,” he teases and takes a step back, giving you room to put it on. Delicate lavender lace that shimmers. Strapless with a sweetheart neckline. Form fitting over your soft curves, the little frills fall mid thigh. The dress reminds you of Tinkerbell and you immediately love it. Sunoo walks around you, looking for any flaws in the stitching. Then he stops in front of you. “Hmm.” he says to himself, with a hand on his chin. “What? I love it. It’s so perfect Sunoo. Like it was made for me.” You grin, running your hands over the dress, down your breast and along your waist. He steps closer and touches the frills just between your thighs. You gasp at the feeling of his cool fingers. His eyes narrow as he smiles deviously. He circles around you so that your back is flush against his chest. You can feel his erection pressed against your ass, his right hand caressing your breasts over the dress. Sunoo slides his left hand up your left thigh under the dress, pads of his fingers press against your damp cloth covering your cunt. You bite your lip, watching his reflection in the mirror. “It is perfect. Made just for you.” He says, his fingers teasing their way around your panties, into your pussy. "Sunnie..." You purr, spreading your legs further apart. “Just like my cock.” He smiles against your ear, watching you slowly fall apart on his fingers in the mirror.
Tumblr media
160 notes · View notes
xxstargirlx-x · 26 days
Note
hey! could u do bff!pansy headcannons? :) thanku!!
Bff!Pansy Headcanons!
Terribly underrated character, I double dare you to forget the boys and read about her for once. You'll fall in love (platonically in this case ;p)
Tumblr media
I love this idea, thank you for requesting it<3 It was really fun and quite easy to write, I just cheekily based these on me and my friends, 'cuz let's be real, Pansy is the allegory of all of us cool, troubled poet, European girlies. We are her, she is us. Have fun<3
Tumblr media
This is me btw and I want all my readers to know it. Okay, onto our sweet girl Pansyyy<3
-Firstly, you know this girl is is a girl's girl all the way. A friendship with her is never based on competition or jealousy, just pure female support and the best energy imaginable. She counts your wins as her own, and you do the same for her's.
-You can always, and I mean always rely on her to tell you if you're makeup is smudged or there's something between your teeth. She can't have her best friend look like anything but her most perfect self.
-You're really open with each other about your personal or mental struggles, no secrets between you two. You know all the shit both of you have been through, and it made you bond even more, a mutual understanding arising. You'd go through hell and back to protect and care for each other and make sure the other one had as little to worry about as possible. You call at 3am in the midst of a breakdown? She'll be at your door 10 minutes later, drenched by the rain, rushing in to be there. Ride or die.
-You have a crush on someone? The next time you're in class, they've been assigned to sit next to you for mysterious reasons. Or they text you out of the blue, without you having given them your number in the first place! Pansy has her ways, don't question the all powerful.
-She's a "up for everything" kinda friend. It doesn't matter if you ask her to go to an all night techno rave, rob a bank with you, go to a girly yoga class, accompany you to a funeral, stalk an ex, bleach your hair on a random tuesday or if you ask her to come to a random parking lot, bearing weapons, she will be there. No matter how sane or insane the invitation.
-She's low maintenance, so are you. You don't need to be texting or on facetime 24/7 to know that you're always there for each other.
-LIVES for the drama. Give her all the latest gossip, even if she doesn't know the person that you're talking about (which is unlikely) she will get into the story like there's no tomorrow, mouth wide open. "She did not! Did her parents literally drop her on the head as a baby?" She also likes to add her own fair share of shit talking. If she doesn't like you, everyone, including you will now! You love how real she is.
-You two share your wardrobe, like all the time. You're missing a leather jacket to complete your fit? Take hers! And before you know it, she's raiding your closet for a bag to match the shoes she already borrowed from you. You're known as best dressed in the school.
-Will send you a song at 2am randomly. "Made me think of us, good night<3" or "I think you'll like this :)" and it's the cutest, most fitting song every time.
-You have zero shame when you're with her in public. You're at a bar, talking about your latest hookup, you're both screaming, crying laughing, nobody is safe when you two get together. Who cares if everyone hears? You love entertaining people who lead boring lives because Merlin knows, you two don't!
-Gives the most thoughtful gifts. Her love language is definitely quality time, but when your birthday or Christmas comes around, her gift is the one you look forward to most. She goes above and beyond, last year she got you a custom made magazine of all of your favourite shared memories, pictures and inside jokes. She even got your favourite actor to leave a signed message in it, how she did that is beyond you, and quite honestly, scares you a little.
-Has no filter. Like at all. "So, Pansy. I went out with this guy yesterday and-" "Did you fuck?" "PANSY!" She's unintentionally the funniest person.
-She's the life of the party. And when you're with her, automatically so are you. You walk into a club while she's still chatting to the bouncer out front and suddenly you're either dragged right into the DJ booth or into the VIP section, when you ask why, you're always met with: "You're Pansy's friend. You go into VIP." Once she joins you inside, it's free drinks and dancing on tables all night.
-You two exchange books back and forth. Book buddies if you will. Sometimes, you like to annotate or leave little messages for each other.
-People suspected you were dating for a while, because of how close you are. The rumor ended after a while, but it gives you a good laugh til this day. What, you've made out like once. That's normal for girls.
-When you go out for lunch or coffee, you always fight about who gets to pay. I'm serious when I say she will start a fight with you everytime if you insist to pay the bill, and vice versa. Splitting the bill is a no go for you both.
-You match each other's energy, always. She starts randomly singing to herself, earning strange look from bystanders? You'll join in on the song. You call her screaming about something? She doesn't even now what you are screaming about, but bet your little toe, she is also screaming.
-Finally, if you ever need to hide a murder weapon or someone dragged out by their hair and into a ditch, who you gonna call? Go Pansy! (Read this in the Ghostbusters Melody, cheers) She's so sweet!<3
And that is it! I hope you enjoyed, find a friend like Pansy and life will be jolly. As always, I take requests for any and all sorts of requests, Hogwarts themed or not, keep em coming folks! Ily, byeeee<3
133 notes · View notes
theemporium · 7 months
Note
Steddie dealing with wild and clingy drunk reader ?
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
.
“Honey, please—”
“I’m fine, Steve, I can stand on my own.”
“I really don’t think you can.”
“Yeah, look!”
“Baby—” 
Steve’s hands quickly reached out to catch you the second you pulled away from him, your feet stumbling over the cobblestone driveway in a pair of heels that made his head spin. His arm wound around your middle before you could stumble forward, his own feet staggering as he caught himself from falling along down with you. 
“Nice save,” Eddie snorted as he leaned his head out the open window, watching Steve try and wrangle you into the car after insisting he could do it alone. 
“Shut up, Munson,” the other boy grumbled as he reached for the passenger side door of the van, ready to lift you up before he climbed in behind you.
It was just supposed to be a small get together. Robin had insisted that you needed a night to just step away from all the drama and chaos that came with living in Hawkins, and you agreed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had an excuse to dress up with no real reason, and a part of you missed it after spending the better part of your life in the last few months covered in dirt and chasing after monsters that shouldn’t even exist. 
The boys watched you get ready with smiles on their faces, lounging on the bed as you scrambled through your wardrobe to find something to wear. They did the same speech they did every single time you went out somewhere late at night without them: to call them if you felt weird or unsafe, to call them when you needed to be picked up, to make sure to always have something on you that could be used as a weapon.
The true joys of living in Hawkins, Indiana. 
You had left the apartment after kissing them both goodbye and promising that you’d have a fun night out for all three of you.
It was just after midnight when Robin had called them to come pick you up from her house. 
But they had dealt with you drunk so many times that it didn’t seem like an issue at first as they packed into Eddie’s van and headed out. However, after arriving at Robin’s house, they realised she had massively downplayed how drunk you were.
“She’s fucked.”
Steve shot the boy a look. “Wow, thanks for pointing that one out.”
“Grouchy,” Eddie murmured with a grin as he jumped out, rounding the van to open the passenger door. Steve had barely managed to slide out before you were launching yourself at Eddie, bursting into a fit of giggles as you wound yourself around him. “Ooft, hey, baby.”
You lifted your head with a lovesick smile on your face. “Hey, Eddie.”
“Hmm, my pretty girl,” he cooed as he grinned back at you. “You gonna get down.”
You shook your head.
“Easier to get you up the stairs, I guess,” he murmured as he nodded towards Steve to open the door. 
You didn’t let go of the boy as all three of you made your way to your shared apartment. Your head was resting on his shoulder, nuzzling yourself into the crook of his neck as you listened to the soothing voices of your boyfriends. 
“C’mon, doll, we gotta get you to bed.”
“I’m comfy where I am,” you whined, almost purring when you felt Steve’s hands running up and down your back. 
“Promise we cuddle afterwards,” Steve bargained as he finally got you to latch off of Eddie. However, it lasted all of thirty seconds before you were wrapping your arms around Steve’s waist and pressing your cheek against his back. 
It was more of a hassle to get you changed into comfier clothes than either of them cared to admit, and similarly could be said about managing to get the makeup off your face. But both boys managed to wrangle you down, guiding you over to the bed when you were already half asleep on their shoulders. 
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Both boys shared a look over your head. 
“Yeah, honey, anything,” Steve eventually answered, his heart pounding in his chest as he looked down at you.
You nuzzled your face further into your pillow, reaching both hands out until you could grab some part of each of them. “I have the prettiest boyfriends ever.”
The tightness in his chest eased as Steve let out a small laugh, shaking his head.
Eddie could barely bite back his grin as he leaned down to kiss your cheek. “Pretty boyfriends for a pretty girl.”
.
387 notes · View notes
l0velylecter · 1 year
Text
how you met the cod:mwii men (vol.i)
— first encounters with the men of cod : mw ii, part 1
rating : m for mature and suggestive themes tags : kissing, making out, fluff, smut goes as far as giving head ( lol idk how to describe it besties, my bad ) pairing : f!reader / phillip graves ,  f!reader / alejandro vargas fandom : cod mwii warnings : cursing, suggestive themes, mdni (minors don’t interact)
Tumblr media
01| Phillip Graves
It started as a fling, of course — all it took was fifteen minutes of passive-aggressively telling him he should stop showing up unannounced, and suddenly he has you against a janitor's closet with his hand up your skirt. You felt his impatience bleed into his kisses: messy, uncoordinated, and almost desperate, Grave’s eagerness would have scared you off. Lucky for him, you think he fits cockiness like a glove ( as much as you did not want to admit it.)
Any thoughts of resisting for the sake of your pride and dignity were swept away by the heady rush of adrenaline brought only seconds before one realises they are about to have a quickie. The thought made you shiver in his arms. Noticing this, he grinned against your mouth, nipping your bottom lip before pulling away.
'What’s your name, baby ?'
You nearly rolled your eyes — you were even surprised he asked. Having just met the man twenty minutes ago, you can already guess that Graves was the type to 'fuck first and talk later.' And he clearly wasted no time, hoisting you up an open wardrobe and patting your waist with a, ' Open up for me, atta girl.’
Sure, his one-liners are cheesy as fuck, and someone needs to put him in his place, but the words always seem to come out of your throat as a desperate whine when his head disappears between your legs; it was one of the only ways to get him to shut up.
'Easy there.' He chuckled, nipping the inside of your thighs when they started to shake. It happened so fast, too fast — he had a hand across your mouth while the other helped his tongue drive you over the edge. Even in between breaths, he still finds a way to talk ( not that you mind the filth pushing past gritted teeth.)
‘C’mon baby, c’mon baby, c’mon baby — fuck.’
With your head thrown back and chest heaving, it did not even cross your mind that the asshole had pocketed your underwear until you were dressed and back behind your desk. The whiplash was enough to flush your entire face, barely keeping a straight composure when Shepherd stepped out of his office with Laswell in tow, the older man obliviously introducing you to Graves. Behind, Kate eyed your smudged lipstick suspiciously.
' And for God's sake Graves, will it kill you to make an appointment?'
You were hyper-aware of how your thighs were still wet. He noticed your discomfort; obviously, the asshole did — why else would Graves be so pleased with his response?
' I'll make sure to have your secretary's number then, sir.'
Tumblr media
02| Alejandro Vargas
The hero of Las Almas is what the people call Alejandro. They knew him as a soldier, a leader, and a beacon of hope. Yet, you knew Alejandro even before he joined the army; stripped off his badge and weapon, you will always see him as the man who courageously stepped in to save you from being robbed at gunpoint all those years ago. Who knew he eventually becomes colonel? While everyone talks about him with pride and adoration, you cannot help but feel hurt over the fact that: just like everyone else, you will have no choice but to admire him from afar.
' You barely even speak to the man.'
' He's way older than you ! '
' Pah! Please, put this energy somewhere else.'
Those are the few things the townspeople told you when they found out you had eyes on him, but can they blame you? And because his second in command guiltily cannot resist the scent of warm, freshly baked bread every morning on the way back to base from his morning patrol, you always volunteer for the six am shift — always racing down the stairs just in time to greet him with a smile.
' Buenos días, (name).'
Alejandro always says your name gently, as if he was especially pleased to see you. In order to not let the man feed into your delusions, you took a few seconds to brace yourself so that your 'good morning, colonel' does not shake.
You enjoy making small talk with him. In this scenario, conversations between the two of you usually consist of Alejandro asking you about your well-being and you nodding back in response — always too awed by his presence to respond. ( You even almost forgot Rodolfo had been waiting for you to give him his change back.)
The moment before he leaves to let you tend to the other customers is probably the most agonising fifteen seconds of your morning routine. You will watch in anticipation as Alejandro raises a hand behind his neck to act as if he wants to ask you a question, only to turn to his heels and wish you a good day. And as if you were a telenovela for the line of customers, your family, your neighbor, the local children, and the fruit sellers to watch, they will all throw their hands in the air and sigh in frustration.
Your mother once compared your crush on Alejandro to being in love with the sun. You cannot decide between laughing or crying.
Eventually, this continued until the city was torn apart by cartel members. Your family was lucky enough to survive the sudden wave of brutality, but the bakery was a wreck, and worse: your hero was nowhere to be seen. You were so sick with worry that the moment he knelt to help clean up the broken shards of glass, you had abandoned the dustpan to throw yourself into his arms — sobbing about how scared you were for him.
A laugh was pulled out of Alejandro as if he was surprised by how much you cared about him. Hands wiped your tears away, and he cooed above you, tucking your head under his chin with both his arms around you, ' Oh, cariño — come here.'
When Rodolfo arrives in tow with your family to clean up the rest of the mess, he quickly ushers them back out, ducking when Alejandro throws a nearby towel at him for interrupting what would have been your first and proper kiss together. ( He made up for it in the end.)
‘ You know, it’s the colonel who always insists that we get breakfast every morning. Not me. More than half a decade of eating the same breakfast every day, imagine that.’
Tumblr media
a/n: i hope the contrast between the two scenarios didn’t give you whiplash ( what happens when the howl’s moving castle soundtrack plays after the weeknd (o¬‿¬o ) ) anyways, i hope you enjoyed this ! <3 
1K notes · View notes
ghostfanwriter · 10 months
Text
🔥✨ Safe with him ✨🔥
Part two to Safe✨🔥
🔥 Pairing: Raider!Joel Miller x afab!Non-innocent Reader.
✨Synopsys: Joel is trying his best to stay away, but you're also doing your best to break him. When one of his men try to hurt you, you understand why his people respect fear him so much. And just how safe you are with him.
🔥 Features: 🔞 content — Attempt of sexual assault (not graphic), violence, murder, teasing, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, riding Joel's face, choking, praise with degradation (my favorite 🌟), creampie (he does it twice), a bit of cockwarming at the end.
✨ Word Count: Over 6k.
🔥 About this: First part of this felt so organic, so natural, it was hard to write something that felt like stood up to it. This part is more packed with smut, with some story in-between. Also, make sure to always read the alt text of the gifs I use, in this one I explained the face I imagine him doing sometimes.
✨ Author's note: It took me forever, but it's finally here. Hope you like it as much as you did the first one. The reception to it was insane, and I can't thank you enough for all the love 💕. Once again likes, reblogs and comments are very, highly appreciated 💖
Good reading ✨🔥
🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨
Tumblr media
🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨
"Joel, Joel... Joel."
Some days it was the only word you'd say out loud besides 'Yeah, I'm alright. Don't need anything.'
You called, but he seemed to never listen. To never feel you call, to never come back.
You just hoped he would if you actually needed him.
🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨
You thought Stockholm syndrome needed some time to settle in.
But apparently not. From day one, you're into this.
You're into him.
You honestly don't even think about the people back home. How scared and worried they must be for all of you, looking for you and hoping to find you all well one day.
You sometimes think about your people who are here, but The Man always reassures you.
"Told you, doll. They're working. Helping us build, cook, hunt. They're all alive and safe."
Was it true?
Maybe, maybe not.
But you were blocking all of those places in your mind. It was easier if you didn't think.
If you focused on making The Man happy.
If he were happy with you he wouldn't hurt your people, because you cared for them.
Right?
You could only hope. Only trust him somehow.
So you do what you can.
You keep him happy.
You clean, you cook, you wash his clothes. You brush your hair, put on pretty clothes he got you and use some perfume he told his men to find for you on a run for supplies.
You make sure to let him watch you. To finish cooking when you know he's coming home, always when the sun is setting, because you know he likes to see it. Clean — specially low places — when he's around, so you can bend over and give him a glimpse of you underwear.
Those were his favorites: domesticality and profanity.
Playing house with you while enjoying the view, while fantasizing about you.
The problem was...
He never let you touch him again after that night.
He'd look, his eyes always on you, but he wouldn't come close, he wouldn't give in again.
But each night you needed him more, you craved him.
So you used your weapons.
✨🔥′
Today he only left once, first thing in the morning for a couple of minutes, before coming back home and staying for the day. He had lunch with you, talking and laughing as you did, played his guitar on his porch, and watched you while you cleaned his wardrobe.
His favorite hobby.
"I thought you never wore anything under your dresses, baby." He said from his bed as you bent down to clean, giving him a full view of your covered ass.
"You never check." You responded, an edge of disappoinment on your voice.
"Thought I could trust you, sugar. But apparently not, will have to see for myself everyday now." He said, and you stopped cleaning, and, keeping your knees straight, slowly removed your panties, throwing it at him.
He took it with a grunt and slowly started stroking himself, just from looking at you. When he was getting close, he called you.
"Fuck, baby, come here. Don't wanna make a mess for you to clean." He panted, beckoning for you to come over.
You walked to him, seeing that your panties were in his hand, around his cock, wet, covered in his precum.
You kneel in front of him and he grabs the back of your neck, pulling your mouth down on him.
"Just the tip, baby. Just enough for you to take it." You happily do as you're told, sucking his tip for a couple of minutes, while he pumped himself deep and slow, his other hand holding your hair up so he could watch your face, your eyes never leaving his.
His hand was there also to prevent you from taking him in deeper. Which you try to do.
"I said just the tip, baby. Be good for me, don't get greedy on me now."
So you behave. Just the tip, just enough to not let it fall on the floor.
He cums with a grunt, filling your mouth twice before being done, softly pushing you away from him.
"So pretty." He praises as you lick your lips.
Panting, he looks at you and hands you your panties. "I think you should keep it, you'll make better use of it." You say with a smirk as you get up.
"There you're right, angel. This only knows how to stay on my way. But put it back on, there's men around the house today, don't want them seeing what's not theirs."
You lift your right foot, mentioning for him to put it on you. He smiles and passes it through both your legs, caressing and squeezing your thighs as he went up.
His face, close to your pussy, watching it as his thumbs lightly part the front of your folds. He grunts and shakes his head once with a sigh and a smile, pulling your panties all the way up and kissing your clothed mount before adjusting your dress and lightly slapping your ass. "C'mon, finish what you were doing."
You do so, finishing his wardrobe and turning back at him, finding him sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out the window.
"Can you tell me your name?" You ask and he looks at you, without turning his head, just his eyes. "Why do you need to know?"
"I'd be good to put a name to my moans, so you know it's you I'm thinking about." You say with a sweet smile, and now he turns to look at you, shaking his head, smiling and grunting the same way he did while looking at your pussy. "You're the price I pay, angel. Now I get it. You're making me pay for all the things I've done in this life, making my life so fucking hard."
"You know, you could just do it. I don't understand why you think it'd be so bad." He scoffs. "I told you. Don't want your daddy, or your mommy, or your boyfriend to come over later and try to bother my people. We have women... pregnant women. And children. Don't need that right now."
The fact that he is being so true to his word, that he's really not doing anything to not harm his people, so you could go back home one day, just makes you want him even more.
How he never tried anything, how even when he was getting hard from watching you cook, you wouldn't feel bad like you felt when his men look through the window.
You liked how he looked at you. It felt different.
It all makes you wanna keep pushing him.
"You kidnapped me. Us. You think my people aren't looking for us already?" You ask.
"But I'm letting you go. Told you, if I have you, I won't want anyone else to. Will keep you here, with me. Mine." He said, a hint of pain in his voice, and you notice a volume returning to his pants, your own core burning with his words.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I don't have a mommy, or a boyfriend... Or a daddy to come after your people." You say, touching his shoulder and internally moaning — at least this one you managed to hold back — at how he stiffens under your touch.
"I just want to make you feel good." You say, that low and aroused voice back on your lips. "Want you to make me feel good too." You whisper, now running your fingers through his hair, and he closes his eyes, indulging in the gesture.
You caress his hair for a few seconds, and he hums, moving his head onto your hand for you to reach new places.
"Joel." He says with his eyes still closed. "The name you should call is Joel." You run your fingers over his hair one more time, pulling it away from his face and kissing his lips softly, holding his head from both sides.
He doesn't pull away, allowing you to touch his lips for the first time.
"The man I'll call is Joel. And I hope you listen. Hope you come when I call you. When I need you." You whisper over his lips, his eyes opening to look at you.
You let him go and walk away, his eyes following you.
✨🔥'
"Joel."
"Joel."
Joel was not soft.
That he wasn't.
But a pretty girl is any man's perdition.
And when your voice calling him sounded so sweet, so nice, so needy, he couldn't not come to you.
"Sounds like a fucking angel, baby." He said, standing by the door, that you convenently left open for him. You whimper when you see him, your eyes dropping to his pants.
"Don't get any ideas, though. I'm just here to watch. C'mon, take this off you." He said, walking towards you and removing the blanket you covered yourself with — knowing he'd come and remove it. Your knees are bent, so you palm yourself, closing your legs and looking into his eyes.
He sits by your feet. "Open them, baby. We both know you're not shy." But you don't, just looking into his eyes, smiling and biting your lower lip, and he laughs.
You want him to touch you.
"I see. Won't work, though." He spreads your legs, then pulls your hand away. You lift your hips, trying to brush on his hand, and he grunts, seeing you all wet and swollen, pushing your hips back down.
Knowing it's all for him, right in front of him, makes him almost fall mouth first on you, makes him want to taste you and make you cum for him.
But he knows he can't.
"It's because of you." You moan, and he shoots you a stern and scary look, his eyebrows low and his eyes dark. "For you." He swallows, sitting further from you onto your bed and opening his belt.
You mention to go to him, but he shoots you that look again.
The look that simultaneity makes you want to behave and misbehave. To be good for him so he'll praise you, and to be bad to see what he's gonna do about it.
But you know that, slowly, you're gaining him. So you sit back down and spread your legs.
"Good girl."
He pulls himself out of his boxers, already hard and wet. You lick your lips and return your circles around your clit, inserting one, then two fingers inside yourself.
He grunts and groans softly as his own movements become more desperate. His eyes never leaving your pussy.
You're dripping onto the sheets. There's a puddle forming underneath you, and he can't take his mind out of how good you must feel. How nice and tight, warm and wet you have to be.
He moans once and you retribute the sound. You fasten your circles, being as deep on him as he is on you. Thinking about how nice and painful it'd be to take him in, how thick and big he is. How much you crave to feel him twitch and pulse inside you. How rough he'd be with you, how he'd care for you after it.
That's the thing with him. You know how rough he can be, but you've also seen his softer side. You want him to heartlessly pound you, be mean to you, make you cum until you're dumb, whisper things in your ears, call you names.
And then call you his angel, tell you how good you were for him while he caress your hair until you fall asleep on his chest.
The thought makes you cum, a loud and shameless "Joel" leaving your lips, then being the only word you can put out. Calling and crying out for him, needing him.
He touches your thigh, making you look at him. Your eyes hazed, showing him how far you were, how high he took you before even touching you.
"I'm here, baby. Come here to me." He coos, and you craw until him, lowering yourself in front of his dick, his hand coming for your hair, helping it up.
He doesn't say anything about how deep you can go, so you start sucking just his tip, careful and tight, feeling his precum drip and leak into your mouth. He thrusts into your mouth and you take him in further with a moan, going as deep as you can, opening your throat to make room for him.
He grunts and you can already feel him pulsing on your tongue. "So fucking good, baby. Gonna cum in this mouth."
You moan as you taste him flood your mouth, drinking it like you haven't seen water in weeks.
You keep sucking him after he's finished, and he lets you, caressing your hair and moaning as you do so.
"You know this could end up really bad for your people, don't you, baby?" He asks, stroking your hair as you run your tongue up his length.
"I know, Joel. But I think I want to see it. Watch you keep me with you." You say right before licking around his tip like a lollipop and taking him in your mouth again. He furrows his brows, piercing his lips together.
"You have no idea what you're saying, sugar. Not something you'd like to see." He says, pulling himself out of your mouth and fixing his pants before getting up.
He gives you a light and sweet peck on the lips, grabs a towel on your bathroom and comes back to you. He opens your legs, cleaning you. "I would love to see it, Joel. Not to my people. But I'd love to see what you'd do."
You say as he kisses your forehead and walks outside your room, never turning around to look at you.
✨🔥'
Joel was not soft.
That he wasn't.
So when he spent his days thinking about you — not only wanting to come home to see you, but actually started to think about you, to wanna come home to see you — he knew he had to go away.
Your people were of great help for his people, so it still wasn't the time to let you go, but he needed distance.
So he called some of his men on a few days long run for supplies and food.
He left men watching his house. "I want one of you by this fucking door every second I'm not here. She tells me anything happened to her, anyone, any of you, fucking looked through the window and I'm killing every single one of you." You heard him tell the men.
Then he came to you, holding you on a loose embrace, removing the hair from your face. "You need anything and they get it for you, okay? Anything. Just ask. Keep the curtains closed and don't give them any smiles or looks. These men are animals, they don't know how to behave close to a pretty girl like you."
And with that he left.
For days.
Days where you called him, desperately, breathy, over and over again. Your bedroom walls tired of the name, tired of your whimpers, your moans, your cries.
"Joel, Joel... Joel."
Some days it was the only word you'd say out loud besides 'Yeah, I'm alright. Don't need anything.'
You called, but he seemed to never listen. To never feel you call, to never come back.
You just hoped he would if you actually needed him.
✨🔥'
"Joel!"
His name, always so passionate and sweet on your lips, was now a desperate cry for help. A prayer, a beg.
His men never dared to try anything with you. They'd knock on the door and you'd answer without opening it, saying you were alright and didn't need anything. But not today. Not this one.
You screamed his name as one of his men, the biggest one that he left to keep watch on you, pinned you down on your dinner table, your hands behind your back and your face painfully pressing on the wood.
"Keep screaming, bitch. He won't fucking hear you. And no one's gonna come to help you. No one's gonna fucking dare walking inside his house." He says with a laugh. "The more you scream the longer this will last."
You keep screaming, calling for help and calling for him.
Then the man let's you go, a heavy thud following.
You turn around, finding Joel. His eyebrows low and nostrils wide, his lips pierced and his hair disheveled. He's holding a thick piece of wood.
He looks at you and his eyes soften instantly, coming towards you to cup your face. "Did he hurt you?" He asked, his eyes attentively watching your face for any bruises or scratches.
"No, no he didn't. He just walked in, I... I asked him for some things and when I opened the door he— I should've waited for him to walk away before opening the door, I'm so sorry, Joel. I'm so sorry, you told me to not do it." You cried, burying your face on his chest and blaming yourself for giving the man the opportunity to invade his house.
"Don't, hey. Don't fucking say that. You could've smiled at this piece of shit, talked to him. He shouldn't have tried anything. Shouldn't fucking hurt you like this. It's not how I fucking work around here." He says, his voice and expression darkening at the end, when he hears the man grunt under him.
He carefully lets go of you, turning to the man and grabbing him by the colar of his shirt.
None of the tenderness with which he held you left on him.
"Stay away from the windows." He tells you sternly while dragging the man on the floor.
The man's twice his size. But still he pulls him out of his house like he's nothing. Anger boiling inside him, making him straddle the man on the floor, punching his face once, twice.
Again and again.
The man is screaming, pushing him, begging him to stop, trying to get way.
But he's not himself. He is an animal, he is consumed by his darker self.
The man drags himself around on the floor and he holds him in place, punching him.
His backpack and rifle still on his back.
He could just shoot the man, but that wouldn't make it.
He had to do it. With his bare hands. He wanted to feel it, to take his life away from him.
"You like screaming, don't you, son of a bitch? Wanted to hear screams? Then fucking scream!" He shouted louder than the man, the people around him just watching.
The man's body goes limp, blood pools around them and runs on the floor, but he keeps going, until there's not a man under him anymore.
Until there's not a face, not anything but a puddle of meat, bones and blood.
He gets up, his face like you've never seen before, his eyes wide, fully black, eyebrows low, nostrils widening as he breath, his mouth open and his teeth clenched. His hand hurt, blood from the man and from himself dripping from it.
"This is not how I fucking work!" He shouts, turning around to look at everyone. "And you don't fucking fuck with what's mine!" His voice coming out as a snarl. Like a feral dog, spit flying from his mouth.
Now you see it. Now you understand.
That's why his people are so lawful.
Not only because he's brutal.
But because he's brutal to protect.
The ones that don't respect or trust him, fear him. They know what he's capable of.
He killed a man twice his size with his bare hands to keep you safe.
He killed a man he probably trusted, considering he trusted you to him. All to keep you safe.
And you loved it.
You loved it and part of you wants to see it again. To see him act so brainless, to kill a man like it's nothing. All to keep you safe.
To hear him call you his.
He sees you through the window and worry invades his face, making him rush back inside. His heavy and loud footsteps sending chills down your spine.
He finds you by the window and stops on his feet. Your eyes are wide and scared, your chest raising and falling with force.
"I told you not to look out the window." He says.
This.
This is what he never wanted.
He never wanted you to see this part of him. The part he knew would push you away, would make you never want to see him again.
Would make you afraid of him.
He holds his hand up in front of him, letting go of his backpack and rifle. "I'm sorry. None of this should've happened. I shouldn't have left you here alone, with these men. This was why I kept you here, with me, so they wouldn't hurt you." He says. "I'm sorry you had to see it, I couldn't let him go any other way."
This.
This is what you wanted to see. Him feral, protective, caring for you.
Keeping you safe.
You run to his arms, climbing on him. Your lips looking for and crashing against his.
It takes him a second, but when he realizes what's happening, he groans and wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and close to him. Like he's afraid you'd snap out of it and push him away.
You lick between his lips, right where they meet, and he grunts, opening his mouth for you, taking your tongue in his and letting you explore his mouth before pushing his tongue inside your mouth and rolling it around yours. His beard scraping your cheeks, making you moan and press yourself further onto him.
Wanting to finally feel all of him.
Your arms are tugging and squeezing around his torso and his arms, sometimes pulling on his hair and earning grunts from him. His arms are pressing you against him, his heart beating against your chest. He squeezes your waist and your hips, firmly holding the back of your neck and your cheeks.
Your hands not satisfied with touching just one place at once. All the desire and hunger emerging to your surfaces.
You stay tangled like that for what feels like hours before he pulls away, out of breath, staring at you.
"I loved watching. You were so... Brutal. I loved it." You say as his eyes roam around your face.
"You don't have to do this." He whispers, giving you a final chance to step away and not regret this later. "I want this, Joel. It's all I think about. You. Called you everyday, every night, since you left. Couldn't finish sometimes without you with me. And when I did it was for you, all thinking about you." You say, snuggling your face on his neck, pressing your nose against his vein.
"I need you, Joel. Please."
He's gone.
He did his best to avoid it, to please himself with you without actually touching you. But he can't deny what he craves since he first saw you.
"You beg so nice, baby. Should make you do it more often." He says right on your ear, making you shiver and moan softly. Turning into a puddle under him.
He bites your neck, sucking and licking, your perfume guiding him, making him want to crawl under your skin, to merge his body with yours.
You're drowning on him, dazed and high, indulging on the way he holds you, grunts against your skin and how open your whole body is for him.
But when you're starting to fully get lost...
He pulls away.
"My room. C'mon." He pants, turning and pushing you towards the stairs. You giggle and run upstairs, him laughing and following close to you, his long steps enough to not let you get too far.
When you reach his bedroom, he grabs the back of your shirt, turning you around and taking you in his arms, his mouth all over your jaw, neck and collarbones. "Please, Joel. I need more of you."
"Always so impatient, baby." He says before pulling your shirt out of you and skillfully unclasping your bra. He stares at your boobs for a second, his mouth hanging open while he breaths heavily. He grabs them, kneading them and grunting. He squeezes them a bit too hard and you whimper.
He groans and takes you back in his arms, still squeezing your boobs and kissing you again.
He tastes like cheap alcohol and cigars, and you drink every drop of him like he's the thing you needed all along.
You could live off of just him. Just looking at him, just smelling him, just eating and drinking from him.
Your hand goes to his belt, but he pushes it away. "I ain't tasted you yet, baby. Not fair that you get it again." He says, pushing you on his bed.
You fall and start removing your skirt. He helps you and falls down to his knees, kissing a path from your bellybutton to your lips. "Can't wait to taste you baby. Know you taste so good for me." He whispers while kissing your throat before kissing his way back down, stopping only at your nipples to suck and roll his tongue around them.
He stops when he reaches your mount, going to your inner thighs, his hands keeping you spread, squeezing the skin of your thighs. "Always on my fucking way." He growls at your panties, roughly pulling them out of you.
Then he gets paralyzed. His gaze never leaving your pussy, his mouth open, his jaws moving from side to side.
"Joel, please." You beg and he hums against your skin. "Right here, baby. Won't go anywhere." He says right before licking a — painfully slow and strong — streak up your folds. From your entrance to where they connect at he top.
"As good as I dreamed." He licks you again, returning to your entrance and inserting his tongue on you, rolling it around inside you, making you sink yourself down on his face. "Even better, actually." He sucks on your clit, humming against your skin as you pull his hair.
"Want you to do it, baby." He says pulling away and grabbing your arms, sitting you up. He lays with his head on his pillow and beckons for you to come over, which you do, going for his belt again.
"No, baby. C'mon, up here." He says with a smile, and you move up higher, straddling his chest. "You know I could kill you like this, don't you?" You say, going higher and hovering above his face.
"Sweetest death a man could have in a world like this, angel." He breathes before pulling you down on him, practically french kissing your pussy, his tongue rolling around your entrance and your clit, going inside you and rolling around. Sucking, licking and even biting everything he could reach, his hands squeezing your ass, your hips and your thighs.
You pull his hair and roll your hips, sinking yourself, his eyes snap open to watch you as you moan and whimper, your whole body shaking as you feel your insides burn, ready to release what you craved to give him for so long.
"Joel." You moan, feeling yourself get closer and closer, and he groans as you grind yourself harder on him, swiping his nose and only pulling away to let him breath. But he quickly pulls you back down, sinking you on his tongue.
The closer you get to your orgasm, the further you go from reality. The deeper you dive on the man underneath you.
Hunger and desire marking the route of his tongue all over you, finding all your favorite spots.
He holds you down as he sucks on your clit, your hips rolling circles on his chin, his beard scratching your entrance, making you pull away.
He groans and sinks you back down, his hands squeezing your hips and keeping you steady as you cum, your insides convulsing around nothing, his eyes open, focused on your face as it contorts and your body tries to stay up.
He grunts as he dries you, sucking every drop out of you as your body twitches at how sensitive it feels.
He lets go of your hips and you collapse back on top of him, laying on top of his belly, breathing, your body going up and down as his own breath moves his chest up and down.
You feel high, like you're on a boat, his breath like the tide. You move up and down, slow and deep, swimming on him, in awe of the fact that this is actually happening.
You're actually with him.
He inserts a finger inside you and you feel his dick twitch inside his pants, against the back of your head.
"So fucking tight, baby. Gonna feel so good."
You try to flip around, wanting to taste him again, but he holds you by the knees and goes on top of you, kissing you again as you eagerly undo his belt and remove his pants.
He finishes them off and climbs back on top of you. You grab him and stroke him deep and slow, getting lost on how hard and thick he feels on your hands, whimpering just to imagine the stretch he'd need to go inside you.
"Think you're ready, baby? Waited for this for so fucking long." He says with his mouth glued to your throat, kissing and nibbing at your skin. "Please, Joel." You moan, fastening your movements on him.
He grunts, thrusting into your hand for a while, groaning as your other hand pulls on his hair.
He removes your hand from his length and guides it to your folds, running his tip through them a few times to gather some of your slick — and tease you.
"So nice, so wet for me. All for me." He pants before teasing your entrance with his tip, rolling it around it and thrusting it in slowly, your insides engulfing him. "So — grunts — fucking tight too." He smiles on your neck, and you lower yourself, trying to get more of him in.
"Joel, please." You cry, and he raises himself to looks at you. "Please what, baby? You keep saying it but you don't use your words."
"Fuck me, please. I need you inside me." You say with a smile, your voice a mix of arousal and almost pain. "Good." He smiles, kissing you, rolling his tongue around yours and pushing in, your legs spreading further apart in an attempt to make more room for him.
The air inside your lunges freezes, and you can't exhale while he's moving.
He goes all the way in, grunting at how good you feel around him. How warm, tight and wet you feel. How your arms held him tight on top of you, how your nails dug into his skin. Things he hadn't felt in forever.
Things he knew only you could give him.
Things he wanted only you to do.
"Doing so well, baby. Opening up for me like this." He praises when he bottoms out, giving you some time to adjust as you twitch and pulse around him.
You move your hips, and he corresponds the movement, slowly thrusting out before going all the way back in, setting a deliciously passionate pace. Slow and deep, making your insides move and readjuste to receive him.
You whimper when he supports himself on his hands, missing his weight on top of you. He starts moving faster, harder, even deeper somehow.
His eyes fixated on your breasts, on how they move with the force of his thrusts. "You like them?" You ask, keeping your voice sweet and low, and he looks at you through his lashes, his low eyebrows and his smile making his expression almost sinister.
It makes you go back to when he was on top of that man. To remember how feral he was, how violent and visceral he was. How much you want him to use that on you, to fuck you with as much voracity as he killed the man.
Thinking about it makes your pussy clench around him. Makes your eyes falter and your heart to pound faster against your ribs.
You wrap your arms around his neck, lifting yourself and holding onto him, his strong arms keeping both of you away from the mattress. You bite his neck, his pulsing vein too welcoming to deny.
"I loved watching, Joel. How you did it, how you did it with your hands. I fucking loved it." He grunts, his own orgasm feeling just a thrust away. "Being inside you makes me want to go back there and fucking kill him again, baby. You feel so good, he'd have hurt you and I don't know what I'd do if I let that happen."
You moan, his thrusts getting harder and sloppier. "But you did, Joel. You kept me safe, like you said you would. I loved it." You say between moans, the burn on your core about to snap. You reach for your clit and draw fast circles around it, almost immediately cumming around him, squeezing and almost expelling him out of you.
He grunts, your pussy milking him, making his orgasm hit him hard, probably harder than ever.
He fucks his cum inside you, rough and deep, as you fall back on the mattress and become a puddle underneath him. He holds your knees up, going even deeper and making you scream his name, the tip of his dick hitting that perfect spot inside you, making your eyes close shut and your mouth hang open.
His pace is anything but tender now. He's fully lost on how good you feel, how much he thought about you, how good it feels to finally give in, to finally be inside you, to finally claim you as his.
Another orgasm crashes over you, his name falling from your lips in a way that shows he's the first one to make you feel this, to make you feel this much. In a way that shows that he's the only one you'll ever think about, the only one you'll ever need and crave after this.
When you manage to open your eyes, you find his stare on you. His nostrils wide, his eyes dark and passionate, his teeth clenched and his neck looking like it would burst.
"Joel." You cry. "Right here, baby. Looking so pretty all dumb like this for me, just saying my name, calling me like I'm ever gonna leave your — grunts — fucking side again." He says, your belly fluttering with his words.
He flips you both around, laying on his back and holding you on top of him, your body doing it's best to not collapse over him.
"C'mon, ride it, baby. Want to see you." His words fuelling your muscles, making you roll your hips around him, gathering the conscience to move up and down.
You support yourself on his shoulders, his muscles flexing as you squeeze them. You moan when he pulls you down into a kiss, one of his hands on your hips and the other going from the back of your neck to your clit, drawing overwhelming circles around you.
"Joel, I can't." You cry out when your clit throbs on his fingers. "Course you can, angel. Do it for me, c'mon, give me another one." He asks, and you focus on him, on his muscles, his face, the way he fills you, the way his rough fingers work you, the way his hands is hurt from what he did, the way he brutally punched the man, the way he yelled, called you his.
You feel your orgasm approaching again, and your body starts to give in. But as soon as it hits you and your body softens, one of his hands leaves your hips and come for your throat, squeezing tight. Your eyes snap open, your hands holding onto his forearm.
"Joel." You whine.
"Just holding you up, baby. Just keeping you steady." He says with a smirk, your insides convulsing around him, trying to hold onto him, as if to never let him go.
It hugs him so nice, so deep and so tight, he can't help but allow his own new orgasm to hit him. He maintains his hand around your throat, but his body jerks up, and he pulls you down enough to kiss you.
He grunts as his tongue rolls around yours, his lips sucking yours, his beard burning your face.
A burn you already love.
His thrusts get rougher, deeper and faster as he empties himself inside you again, grunts and groans leaving his throat as you feel him twitch inside you.
He lets go of your neck and you fall on top of him, breathing and praying that this isn't just one of the dreams you've had with him. Praying that he's here, underneath you, still inside you, holding you around his arms, his warmth comforting your exhausted body.
You snuggle your nose on his collarbones, right on the middle of his pecks, and he strokes your hair.
"As bad as you thought?" You ask with a laugh. "Fucking devastating, baby. Don't even want to get out of you." He replies with a smile, and you clench around him, so he knows you're in no hurry to be empty again.
"Mine. My good girl, gonna be all mine. Can't wait to always find you home. Won't ever let you go." You smile, you don't wanna go anywhere.
"Nowhere else I'd rather be, Joel. No one else I'd rather be with." You confess, your head buried on his neck. "No one would keep me safe like you."
"Would do anything to keep you with me, baby. Anything." He says, hugging you tighter.
You hope so.
You're counting on it.
🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨🔥✨
So... Did you like it? Writing the last sex scene was so hard, it always felt like there was something missing to it. But at end I was happy with it.
Let me know what you think, I'd love to hear your feedback 💖
💌
@https-hann 🫶🏻
273 notes · View notes
hellishdeer · 2 months
Text
Live reactions and ramblings about the the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel
Warnings: SPOILERS!!! Incoherent, unfiltered thoughts, I wrote them as I was watching. Most of them are in chronological order, but not all
EPISODE 1:
The origin story of Hell is a cool take on the original tale of Adam and Eve and the animation style is very pretty too (also biblically accurate angels 👀)
Adam is just the ultimate douche, fucking great
NIFTY ZONING OUT WHILE SHE IS BEING FILMED, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT-
Really interesting and fun that Alastor straight up REFUSES to be captured in digital media, distorting it and facing the other way during the commercial
EPISODE 2:
SIR PENTIOUS!!!!
Loved whenever Vox got real close to the screen, it looked like your TV was his face, adored that shit 👌Also the way his voice distorted whenever he was pissed
Alastor went missing around the same time as Lilith... I'm sure that is not going to be at all plot relevant..
STAYED GONE. Vox's part sung/spoken like a TV news anchor, Alastor breaking the fourth wall, the varieties of error screens Vox displayed, and THE BLACKOUT. THAT PART GAVE ME SERIOUS CHILLS Love you Alastor but you're scaring me a little
SIR PENTIOUS PLAYING ALONG WITH CHARLIE AND ACTUALLY ENJOYING HIMSELF AT THE HOTEL I'M SOBBING
"You like me. You actually like me!" 😭❤️
The voice messages Valentino sent were fucking vile, fuck him. I'm now rooting for Angel Dust more than ever before..
Sir Pentious finally has canon hypnosis powers!!
Vox, you're cool and all BUT YOU JUST TOLD SIR PENTIOUS TO KILL HIMSELF WHAT THE FUCK NEVER GO NEAR HIM EVER AGAIN OR I SWEAR-
"Just make it quick, I guess. Not that I deserve it.." VIOLENTLY ILL.
SORRY IS WHERE IT STARTS. Just.. *sobs* Charlie is so fucking sweet, I can't wait for their friendship to grow
EPISODE 3:
"Hello purple female!" PLEASE 💀
The scene where Alastor was eating is a reference o to one Viv's older speedpaints (more specifically this one)
"Are those your ears or your hair? I can't tell!" Egg Bois asking the real questions here-
ZESTIEL. He looks so cool and I love the way he speaks, hopefully were going to see more of him!
"Oh, look! There's Frank!" "...We have names?" PFFFTT-
"If I can't help you, what's the point of me?" 😭😭😭
CARMILLA'S SINGING VOICE BLEW ME AWAY HOLY SHIT-
Vaggie's singing voice being hilariously different to her speaking one
Carmilla implying in her song that she killed the angel to protect her daughters I-😭 That, and she doesn't want the rest of hell to start a war they can't win, she is a protector. She's definitely one of my new favorites.
As Zestiel said, Alastor is unpredictable and his motivations are hard to read, I love how he is written in a way you geniunely can't guess his real motivations you go you sinister deer fellow
SIR PENTIOUS AND HIS MATCHING PYJAMAS WITH THE EGG BOIS AND ALL OF THE SNUGGLING TOGETHER IN HIS COZY ROUND BED- *starts to froth at the mouth*
EPISODE 4:
Nifty just laying there kicking her feet while watching p*rn 😭
SIR PENTIOUS BLUSHING AND COVERING HIS FACE WITH HIS HOOD PLEASE-
Is Pentious seriously so lonely that he watches people sleep...stop making me sad
Angel Dust having the most fire wardrobe 💅
TRAVIS IS THE FUCKING DIRECTOR-
Angel Dust's face when he heard Valentino speaking :(
VALENTINO GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF CHARLIE RIGHT NOW.
VALENTINO'S COAT IS ACTUALLY HIS WINGS?!?! That's a very cool design actually
THE DRESSING ROOM IS FUCKING DISGUSTING, IT'S FINE IF YOU LIKE VALENTINO AS A VILLIAN, BUT IF YOU ACTUALLY STAN HIM AFTER THIS I SWEAR-
The contract being signed as "Anthony" :(((
"I'll get her to leave, just don't hurt her." *cries*
Charlie being ready kick Valentinos ass the SECOND she saw Angel's state LET'S GOOOO
Poison is just.. So beautifully animated, but so very disturbing at the same time.. FUCK. VALENTINO.
THE DOTS UNDER ANGEL'S EYES WERE JUST MORE EYES THIS ENTIRE TIME?!? I'm such a dumbass
Throwing cards as a weapon :O
HUSK USED TO BE AN OVERLORD EXCUSE ME?!?!
"If I get broken enough.. I won't be his favorite toy anymore.. And he'll let me go.." CRYING SOBBING THROWING UP
You're a Loser Baby is fucking pretty and adorable! I finally I see the appeal in Huskerdust 🥹❤️
EXPLODING DICE WOOO!
Just now realized Alastor didn't show up once during this episode.. Wonder what he getting up to 🤔
96 notes · View notes