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secretwritingspot · 6 months

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Sea Legs

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: definitely PG/PG-13 at most, wholesome fluff. Implied soft!dom Sanji but like you can read it without that tbh, he's just being assertive. But like...we know.

Summary: request for @justyouraveragefangirl1967 - soft!dom Sanji taking care of Reader with chronic pain

Disclaimer(s): first and foremost, I personally am not someone who suffers with chronic pain, but I tried to write this as accurately as possible with feedback from a friend who does. It's still entirely possible that I got a few things wrong because the closest personal experience I could draw from was the pain that comes with hypermobility. That all being said, I hope I did it justice <3

It's far past the crack of dawn, and yet the sun rolls over you like a new discovery- unpleasant, if only for the moment.

You don't do much but groan at first, slinging your arm across your face as the sound quickly dissolves into a whine, the ship already tossing. The gentle movement, which you would normally find incredibly soothing, makes your stomach roil. It takes a few moments of unplacable, vague discomfort before the reason why registers in your mind.

Ah, that, you think as teeth bare in a hiss.

There's an empty ache running down your legs, dull but no more awful for it, twinging like the joints in your knees, hips need to crack but won't.

You allow yourself a moment to wallow before taking a deep breath, swinging your legs over the side of the bed with as little actual movement from them as possible. It won't be that bad, it won't be that bad, it won't be that-

A whimper escapes parted lips when you put your weight on them to stand, steadying your wobbling self on your nightstand. It is just as bad as you expected it to be, as bad as it always was on days like this, but you knew that allowing yourself that white lie was the only way you'd get out of bed at all.

The ship sways underneath you again and this time the bed isn't there to catch you, the movement sending you stumbling slightly for balance in a way that shoots pins and needles up your legs, a different kind of pain that came with taking your first steps when you got like this.

It got easier after a few minutes of walking around. Kinda.

(It did not.)

Before you had decided to join the crew of the Merry, your friends had teased in that knowing way that only friends can, even with dark subjects, that you'd need to find your sea legs first. You'd laughed and told them you hadn't even found your land legs yet.

The memory is fleeting and it isn't long before you've (mostly) stabilized yourself, albeit painfully. You lurch to your dresser, throwing on something new enough to hopefully not look as rumpled as you felt, and practice your walking on the way to the door.

Step, breathe, step, breathe- one foot in front of the other.

When trembling hands find the doorknob you tell yourself that the shaking is only from being tired. You never were a morning person. It doesn't take too many tries before you manage to open it, each step you take getting steadily more practiced and confident, despite the gritted teeth hidden behind your lips.

It's as close to normal walking as you can manage by the time you emerge in the galley, an imitation learned from years of practice. Your knees feel like they'll give out but you know they won't, not for a few hours or so.

For now, you are normal.

Or as close to it as you can manage.

"The fuck are you doing?"

It isn't even a second after stepping into the room that you hear the voice, the solitary other person in the galley with you. The usually honeyed tone is, despite remaining gentle, firmer than you're used to. It's a tone of voice you've only ever heard from the blond-haired man in...other situations.

Ah, right. Him.

Him, who knew too much, saw too much with eyes far too pretty, paid enough attention to notice things about you that you hadn't yet. The ever-present thorn in your side. Though maybe that was too harsh a word for a man as warm or soft as Sanji.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just getting breakfast-"

An unfortunately timed rock of the ship sends you stumbling, disrupting your steps that are just light enough because they're practiced, has your feet landing too hard in a way your legs protest against with a sharp sting of pain.

In an instant he's on you, holding you up like the nights when the crew goes out drinking, his volunteered job to hold you stumbling home. The look in his eyes is different now, though, as he mumbles to himself under his breath.

"Absolutely not."

His voice is laced with an obvious frustration and for a moment you feel bad, unused to that tone being used with you.

Of course, you know it isn't really directed at you. He's talking to himself, after all.

He drags you back to your room without much of a fuss, movements still deceptively gentle as he supports most of your weight for you to keep it off your legs.

He knows. Somehow, always, he knows.

He hadn't been the first you'd told - to everyone's surprise (including your own) that had been Zoro. Not Sanji and his sweetness, not Luffy and his stubborn care for his crew, not Nami for the safe, conspiratorial environment she created with you, as though even if her trust was hard to earn and dangerous to break, there was a sort of camaraderie between the two of you in simpler ways. You two against the boys.

No, it was not any of them. Any of the logical choices.

It had been when you were reading in the sun on deck, Zoro training a bit away. This was the kind of contact he liked, you were discovering. Companionable silence with the two of you doing your own thing while sharing the same space. It was easier than small talk, anyway.

You didn't mind, really. The two of you got on well enough and it was a simple expression of friendship, sharing the deck.

When he'd finished, the sun considerably lower in the sky, he'd complained about feeling faint. Not to a concerning extent, but there was an undeniable ache in his muscles that came from training so relentlessly every day. You didn't even think before slipping out that you felt like that a lot of the time without even doing anything to cause it.

Aside from a concerned squint, a cock of his head, and eventual, "...that sucks", the information didn't seem to phase him. You noticed he was less hard on you on days when you weren't much help to the crew, though.

For that, you were grateful. In his own way, that was him "helping".

Sanji's "helping" is, unsurprisingly, far different from Zoro's. After a few awkward moments of trying and failing to stumble back to your bed, he simply picks you up, as if you weighed nothing, carrying you the rest of the way.

This part - the flushed, apologetic look down at the floor once he'd set you back on your bed - was always the worst. There's a thick feeling of disappointment, even though you know it's all in your head. With his arms crossed across his chest as you avoid his eyes, though...it doesn't feel like it.

"...I thought-"

"I know what you thought."

He's quick to cut you off as soon as you break the silence, too uncomfortable with awkward pauses like that one to let them stretch on any longer than necessary.

The response is not cold, but it's not the Sanji you're used to either. It is not coddling or doting and overwhelmingly affectionate. It is not a happy sound. You keep your head down and look away, clearing your throat and willing tears not to form in the pinpricks you feel behind your eyes.

He sighs, sitting down next to you.

"...you know I worry."

There's more silence and you sniffle, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. Of course he does. Of course, he does.

He seems to sense the tension and guilt in your motions, offering a hand to you in comfort. Even now, you take it. You know, when offered, you will always take his hand.

"I know it's rough. I know that you...want to help. Want things to be normal..."

A part of you wants to scream that he doesn't at all, doesn't know anything about what it's like. But you don't. You know that they're words you'd regret tomorrow. You know that he's trying.

"Love, I just want you safe."

Is his final, exasperated plea, your traitorous heart doing flips at the nickname.

You know. Of course you know he wants you safe, he wouldn't ever be this direct with you if it involved anything else. Your safety, above all else, was paramount. Though you could fight or delay or try to bargain with him if you wanted, that's the moment you know you've lost. You know the outcome, even if a stubborn part of you doesn't want to admit it.

"...lie down for me? Please?"

And he knows exactly what to say, "for me" and "please", the words lighting up a part of your brain that doesn't let you question him. Instead you nod, lying down slowly before curling up on your side. He gives you a wry smile, crouching down to stay eye-level with you and pulling the blankets up to cover you, eyes softening.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?"

The question is asked to no one in particular, his voice is liquid velvet. He lightly taps the tip of your nose, shaking his head fondly as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Do I have to?"

It's the first time you've spoken in a while, voice raw as you whisper the question.

It is the same every time- you ask him the same question, and he gives you the same answer.

He sighs, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again, reaching a hand out to lightly stroke across your cheek.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You have to."

It's not the answer you want, but it's the one that's familiar. And in a way, that's a comfort in and of itself.

His eyes are bright and lovesick as he looks after you, cataloging every freckle, eyelash, tint on your skin like you were the answer, though the question you couldn't be sure of. He stares like the light bends around your face, like you're the only source of illumination he's ever seen. The silence is comfortable and warm, intimacy inherent in it all as he traces your face lightly, making his examination with slow and steady strokes.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay here. Just for a while.

Eventually, he rises from his position at your side, standing up and straightening out his suit as he does. The distance makes you whine, though you bite it back, and he shakes his head fondly, voice low and calm.

"Just going to inform the others I'll be busy today. Stay put."

The door closes gently behind him and, despite yourself...you do.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla Sanji x you #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece x you #opla x y/n #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x y/n

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

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Hii *blush* i wanted to say I really enjoy your writing is just so wholesome, and I just feel so good to be taken into a whole new universe, thanks ❤️

I wanted also to request a Larissa fic, something like femxr being a shapeshifter as well and pleasing Larissa with her shifted c*ck, plus sub\Rissa, I’ll leave the scenario up to u

Hey hey hey anon! Thank you so much 🥰 That’s the goal 💕 I’d love to write this for you ♥️

No Where Near Finished ~Sub!Larissa Weems xFem Shapeshifter!Wife!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, implied smut, implied eating out, smut, kissing, car sex, c!ck riding, shapeshifting d!ck, sub!larissa, etc.

Enjoy (;

Your work was having a new year gala, and you and Larissa were already running late.

You hurried to tie your tie as Larissa quickly applied her lipstick.

“Shouldn’t have lost track of time…” you mumbled to yourself as you grabbed the keys.

Larissa picked up on your words, while grabbing her bag and meeting you at the door where her lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“I don’t know… I didn’t mind your face in my cunt for hours, while your cock twitched in desperation…” she purred, as you went to lock the door.

“Don’t push it ‘Rissa…” you growled, your shapeshifted dick still desperately needing relief.

Larissa went silent at your tone and got in the car.

The drive went by, and you made it to the gala.

Helping Larissa out of the car, you couldn’t help but stare at her and how her dress hugged her curves deliciously.

“Darling…?” Larissa asked you, as you stared.

“Sorry…! It’s just… you look fucking stunning…” you said with a warm smile, eternally grateful to have Larissa as your partner.

Larissa blushed at your words, “Thank you, Darling… You look fabulous in that pants suit as always.”

You kissed your wife on the check as you linked your arm to hers and you both walked into the gala.

The gala itself was lovely, but your mind was reeling.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off Larissa and your mind out of the gutter.

It was one downfall of a shapeshifting dick… it practically became your brain…

By the end of the night, you were tired and far too horny.

You got back in the car with a huff, placing yourself in the drivers seat as Larissa had had a glass of wine.

You began driving and you drove in peaceful silence.

Until you felt a hand on your thigh…

Your breath hitched.

“‘Rissa…” you warned your wife.

But she merely hummed and put on an innocent face, as her hand crept further up your thigh and closer to your painfully hard cock.

You had to practice deep breathing so that you didn’t crash the goddamn car.

Then she began pawing your clothes erection…

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, my love…” you growled lightly.

“Who says I can’t finish…?” Larissa purred, with that certain twinkle in her eye.

That did it for you.

With a screech, you pulled over to the side of the road.

Larissa yelped at your sudden movement of the vehicle.

As soon as you had put the car in park and signaled your blinkers, you were crashing your lips into Larissa’s.

She met your passion eagerly, letting you dominate and explore her wet cavern and draw leud moans and whines from her mouth.

Eventually, you both had to pull away for a breath.

“I want to be inside you…” you growled.

Larissa whimpered at your directness, “please, please fuck me…”

“Already begging, are we…?” You taunted.

You met Larissa’s needy and lust-filled gaze, and your patience was wearing thin.

“Take off your panties, straddle my lap.” You told her.

Without another word, Larissa began doing as you were told, while you quickly unbuckled your belt and took your trousers off.

Larissa came to straddle you in the drivers seat with your mere underwear blocking you from slipping inside her aching cunt.

“Be a doll and take off my underwear, dear…” you groaned, as she had started grinding down on your dick.

Larissa licked her lips and happily complied, removing your underwear and drooling at the sight of your shapeshifted form.

“Fuck, come here, love… Be a good girl and ride my dick…” you purred, pulling Larissa to line up her throbbing pussy with your aching dick.

A pornographic moan escaped Larissa’s lips as she sank down on you, her cunt still sensitive from your activities hours ago.

You groaned in pleasure as you felt her walls flutter around you and fully take you in.

“Please fuck me?” Larissa panted, locking her goddess eyes to yours.

You didn’t need to be told again…

You began thrusting into her soaked cunt, which quickly turned into pounding, which then quickly turned into rutting.

Sinful moans and cries were escaping both of your lips.

You were so goddamn close…

And so was Larissa from how her walls were fluttering more and more around your dick.

“Fuck Mmm gonna cum…!!” Larissa cried out, placing her forehead against yours.

“Fuck! me too, me too!!” You groaned.

You both came together, her walls clenching deliciously around your dick.

Your breathing was labored and you both stayed there for a few minutes, regaining your composures.

Then you slowly helped Larissa off your dick, being careful with how sore she was from the days previous activities.

She landed in the passengers seat with a content sigh.

“Fuck…” you chuckled breathlessly, “You have no idea how long Ive been wanting to do that…”

“We should do it more often…” Larissa hummed in delight.

“What, you riding me?” You asked.

“No, silly…” Larissa chuckled, “car sex.” she said with a wink and a wiggling of her brows.

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the-lonelybarricade · 7 months

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In Silent Screams - Elucien Oneshot

Summary: Elain volunteers to look after her nephew so that Rhys and Feyre can get some much needed sleep

A wholesome, fluffy treat with a dash of angst inspired partly by this long ago exchange of headcanons with my friend @arrowmusings, partly by this recent post by @tuzna-pesma-snova, and partly because I think we can never have enough baby nyx content with his doting aunts and uncles! 🥰

Word Count: 2.7k

Read on AO3

A piercing wail woke Elain for the third time that night.

She groaned, rolling over to pull a pillow over her head like it might shield her from the sound. Plumed feathers, as it turned out, were a feeble defense against the piercing lungs of a newborn. At least she was upstairs, safely barricaded behind wood and stone and a firmly shut door.

Elain didn’t know how the others dealt with it—having such sensitive ears, capable of hearing the worms writhing through the soil below the house, and still enduring such close proximity to her crying nephew. Even in the moments of silence, where Feyre and Rhys managed to coax their son to sleep, Elain could still feel the reverberations in her skull.

No wonder Feyre and Rhysand looked so exhausted. They would never say a word in complaint—how could they? Their child was a miracle, and Elain knew they would surrender sleep for eternity if it was in service of their child. But she swore she swore the foundations of the town house tremored from the next bout of wails.

Her ringing ears coaxed her out of bed and down the stairs. She was already awake, still unused to this body and its overwrought sensations, how keenly she could feel existence ebb and throb around her. She’d never mastered how to tune it out. But at least if she couldn’t sleep, Rhys and Feyre could escape to the House of Wind for some peace and quiet while she watched over her nephew for a few hours.

“Are you sure?” Rhysand asked.

He was better at hiding it; a smile glided across his lips as easily as the autumn leaf coasting on the other side of the large window pane he stood before. Nyx caught sight of it and pointed, prompting Rhys to pivot without faltering the rhythm of his slow back-and-forth bouncing. He cooed quietly to Nyx as if his son had discovered something fascinating, and it didn’t take long for Nyx to drift back to sleep. Fatherhood suited him, she thought, even as she noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the rumpled clothes.

Feyre mentioned that Rhys answered the majority of the midnight cries without being asked, out of duty and apology and pure, unbridled love. He wore it plainly. There was a gentleness in his eyes as he handed his son to Elain, a quality she only truly glimpsed in the High Lord when he was looking at Nyx or Feyre.

Elain’s heart squeezed a bit at the sight of it. Some days, she felt so lost, surrounded by so much love. Half of her was here, in this body that felt and heard and smelled so much, and the other half felt as if she were the fallen leaf outside, being swept by the night-kissed breeze. Only ever observing from the other side of the thick glass. Untouched by the warmth in this house.

“Thank you,” Rhys said, smiling as though he genuinely meant it.

Elain nodded, forcing a smile in return. “Go rest. I’ll alert you if I need anything.”

Or Nyx would. She didn’t speak the thought, but she wasn’t certain it wasn’t as readily communicated through his magic by the way he huffed. Not quite a laugh, but as he nodded his goodbye, she saw a glint in his eye that spoke of humor. He vanished into smoke before she could assess it further, undoubtedly eager to return to his mate for a rare moment of peace.

She didn’t begrudge them that peace. They earned it. She was happy to do what she could to help them, even if that was something as simple as sitting across the soft cushion on the bay window, cradling her nephew to her chest, and staring blankly through the glass. She hardly registered the city beyond, gilded in ribbons of moonlight. Her gaze was fixed on the autumn leaves collected on the ground, wondering what had attracted Nyx’s attention.

The colors, she wondered? She imagined he might have a mind fashioned after Feyre, where he saw and felt and breathed in color. It would be fascinating to a child to witness leaves changing color for the first time. There was a time when Autumn felt like magic to her, too. Long before she ever associated it with cold, with the first creepings of winter. With vibrant red hair and unnervingly perceptive eyes.

A faelight flickered to life in the dining room. The light reflected off the glass, wiping away the night sky and cityscape so that Elain was confronted with her own reflection. And above her shoulder, as though she’d summoned him, Lucien Vanserra had stumbled into the kitchen.

In truth, Nyx’s crying hadn’t been the only thing keeping her awake.

She turned too sharply, forgetting there was a sleeping baby in her arms. Lucien, at least, looked astonished to find her there, and his eyes flitted to the child stirring in her arms, beginning to fuss. He looked as though he were debating the merits of veering straight out of the dining room, abandoning whatever task had lured him to begin with.

Then, the shrieks began.

Elain flinched, holding the child at arm’s length as the sound pierced through her bones. She could feel the vibrations in her teeth, and she wanted to gnash them as her vision went fuzzy around the edges.

“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to hold him,” Lucien said, fashioning himself as being helpful.

At twenty-three years, she had admittedly little exposure to child-rearing. She’d been too young to glean anything helpful when Feyre was born, and she’d scarcely been around many children in the years since. As a woman—a female—it was supposed to come naturally to her. Certainly, everyone expected it would come naturally to her, and she had never questioned why it wouldn’t. She’d always felt a nurturing instinct, always felt a compulsion to care for plants and people and wounded things. A baby felt like a natural extension of that affinity.

And yet… yet she felt clumsy with Nyx. Uncertain how to hold him. He had wings, after all, no human child had wings. Should they be included in the swaddle? Could she manipulate them safely, or would they tear at the slightest pull? Would she fracture this beautiful, fragile creature if she accidentally applied too much strength with her new, foreign body? Sometimes, she felt like she was the one who was fragile. The glass slowly splintering from the blow of those piercing wails.

He was crying so loudly Elain couldn’t think.

Lucien was standing before her now, and she scowled at him like this was his fault. If he hadn’t startled her, she wouldn’t have startled Nyx. And Rhysand would be coming back down any second, and she knew he wouldn’t say anything in judgment, that he’d be happy to take back his son and that he’d appreciate her attempt at kindness nonetheless.

But she was tired of feeling so useless. And this was the one thing she was supposed to be good at. Had being fae taken this away from her, too? Was she unfit to be a mother because some part of her was fundamentally broken, flooded and washed away with her humanity during all those agonizing seconds she’d been in the Cauldron? She’d been screaming at the top of her lungs, too, like Nyx was now. The only difference was that water had filled her mouth, her lungs, and no one had heard her screaming.

Her pain had been utterly silent. It always has been. No one saw it, no one heard it.

Elain flashed her teeth at Lucien, some instinctual warning that he was coming too close. He stopped, eyes wide, and raised his palms in surrender.

“I know how to hold a child,” she snapped.

“It doesn’t look like it,” he said dryly.

The cries pitched in volume, and she winced. Nyx had fallen asleep in his father’s arms, utterly content, and by now, he’d surely put together that it was not his mother or father holding him, not even one of his dear uncles, but his insecure, uncertain aunt.

Softer, Lucien added, “Do you want help?”

“I don’t need it,” she said as she stiffly readjusted Nyx, attempting to mimic how Rhys had been cradling him earlier. She sucked in a breath at the newfound proximity, those wails now a close-range weapon assaulting her mind again and again.

Elain squeezed her eyes shut. She recalled Feyre’s lessons on mental shields and wondered if there was some equivalent for shutting out all of this sensation. No one else seemed to find it as overwhelming. Rhys and Feyre, she could excuse as parents blindly devoted to their child. But Lucien, hardly a step away, did not flinch or clench his teeth. He held his shoulder tense, though that was not unusual when they were in the same room as each other.

He was studying her in that unnerving way he often did when he thought she wasn’t looking. Elain braced herself for the tug she occasionally felt on the other side of the bond. She thought it was the last thing she could handle at that moment. It would be the final, frayed edge that, if pulled, would send her unraveling into a pool of shapeless, tangled string. Fortunately, there was no pull. Lucien’s lips parted as if something dawned on him, and then he shifted. The movement was so subtle Elain would have thought nothing of it if Nyx hadn’t immediately seized crying.

Elain blinked, craning to look at her nephew, then again at her mate. Nyx’s mouth was moving, his little face pinched. She could see the back of his throat rattle with the force of his anguish, could feel the vibrations thrum through his tiny body. But there was no sound.

“What did you do?” She wanted the question to sound closer to an accusation, but she could not strain the relief from her voice.

Lucien shrugged. “It’s just a glamor. You seemed overwhelmed.”

Her ears were still ringing in the silence. She moved her jaw back and forth, trying to focus on other sensations—the newborn scent of her nephew, the curious scratch of the wind against the townhouse. The slow, steady beat of her mate’s heart. Elain shut her eyes and began swaying to its rhythm, humming quietly to shut out the echoing remnants of the crying.

When it finally faded, she opened her eyes, unsurprised to find that Lucien hadn’t moved.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “He was… so loud.”

Lucien nodded. “You’ll get used to it one day.”

“The crying?”

“The fae senses.” He glanced thoughtfully at Nyx, and Elain wondered if he could still hear the crying. Did the glamor only impact her? “You’ll get better at tuning out unwelcome sights and smells. And if not—there’s always magic.”

Feeling Nyx start to settle, Elain shifted on the bay window until her back hit the wall. Lucien stared at the space she created on the other side of the cushion but didn’t dare accept the movement as an invitation. Not until Elain nodded, and he cautiously ventured forward, apparently unconvinced this wasn’t a trap.

“I don’t really know how to use magic,” Elain said. “I can… feel it. But I’m not sure how to control it.”

Lucien claimed a tedious seat at the edge of the nook, both feet planted firmly on the ground so that he might bolt at the soonest provocation. Carefully, he asked, “Would you like to learn? I’m sure Feyre would be willing to teach you.”

He didn’t volunteer himself, and she wondered if he had as little interest in teaching her as she had in learning from him. Which was a good thing, she reasoned. But her chest felt tight.

“I don’t know,” she said. It was honest. “I know that I should want to learn. But it sounds like it will be exhausting, and I am already so tired. Every day, it’s too much. All of the people in the city talking over each other, the crying seagulls and the roaring tide. I’d like it to stop. Just for a little while, and then maybe I’ll be ready.”

Ready for what? She could see him wanting to ask. Elain was grateful when he didn’t.

Instead, he glanced around this small, cushioned nook and asked, “How’s that?”

Elan’s brows merged, not following, until she paused her wandering mind long enough to listen. There was no lapping water, no writhing soil, no percussion of even breathing, layered and out of sync as the city slept around them. There were still some sounds. That ever-present heartbeat, twining with her own. Those were more coordinated, just like her slow exhale and his steady inhale. And though she could still hear more than she could as a human, for once, her existence was narrowed solely to this small nook in the world, where it was just Lucien and Elain and her nephew.

She exhaled again, feeling the tension in her body release in that single breath. “Another glamor?”

“A shield,” he said, raising his knuckles to knock against a solid, invisible barrier. “Let me know when you need me to lower it.”

“Are you staying?”

There must have been an edge to her voice. One he misinterpreted, for he shook his head.

“I don’t need to,” he said, already shifting his weight to his feet. “The shield will remain once I leave. You can always tug on the bond when you’d like me to—”

“Will you stay?” Elan wished he didn’t look so stunned. It faltered her confidence enough that she scrambled to add, “So that you can add the glamor in case Nyx starts fussing again.”

“Right,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Of course I can stay.”

Lucien settled back on the cushion, and this time, with the encouragement of a raised brow from Elain, he adjusted himself until his back was against the opposing wall. They were facing each other, and fortunately or unfortunately, there was enough space on the shared cushion for her legs to stretch to one side and Lucien’s to stretch to the other without touching.

What would it be like to touch him? She remembered the one time in Hybern. Cold and trembling on the floor, that first touch had felt like thrusting her skin into an open fire. The heat was too startling against the numb, thawing her too quickly, too soon.

But with the sun breaking the horizon in the distance, gilding all of his loveliest features in soft, glowing light, she thought it wouldn’t feel so excruciating to be touched by him this second time around. Less like burning fire and more like warm, buttery sunshine.

Realizing that they’d fallen into silence, and that she’d been staring at him without saying a word, Elain asked, “What brought you into the dining room to begin with?”

Cast in the rising light, his cheeks had taken on a rosy hue. “Rhysand knew I was awake. He asked me to come in here to light the fire.”

That drew Elain’s attention to the empty hearth, blackened from the fire that had died sometime in the night. She’d seen Rhys light the flames with his magic a hundred times before.

“Why couldn’t Rhys light it?”

“I was coming in here to ask him the same thing,” he said dryly. With a clipped laugh, he muttered, “Nosy bastard.”

Insufferable busybody, was more like it. Elain shook her head, though she was finding in this cocoon of silence that she was grateful Lucien had come.

She asked, “Why were you awake to begin with?”

His eyes met hers. Held, in a way that spoke far more than his explanation of, “the crying baby, of course.”

“Of course,” she said, breathless.

His heart rate picked up, no longer the rolling rhythm she’d used to rock Nyx to sleep.

“And you?” Lucien prompted. “What were you doing awake?”

She’s woken to the sound of that heartbeat. Pulled from whatever dream she’d been having, like some intrinsic part of her thought it was wrong to listen to that heartbeat and not follow its call. It was why she could never sleep very well whenever Lucien stayed in the house.

“The crying baby,” she said. “Same as you.”

#Elucien #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain #Nyx Archeron #Rhysand #Lucien Vanserra #Elain Archeron #feysand

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g0giro · 3 months

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PLEASE READ THIS!!! NEOPENTANE5 TOLD ME TO KILL MYSELF AFTER I TALKED ABOUT THAT SHE SUPPORTED RAPE TO MY FRIEND

Someone sent this to me, and I have something to say about it. Don't buy what she said on her Twitter, I explained every single detail below.

I'm adding these pictures as well since these tweets were basically her referring to me and saying a lot of bad things about me. I've heard this meant "I wish you go kill yourself", "You don't deserve any friends" and so on, so I decided to translate it. She deleted it, and it's gone by now, but I could get a screenshot of her saying it.

TL;DR: I cut neopentane5 off and blocked her last year, I've been struggling because of severe depression since last year and she was the main reason who caused it, I vented about how I felt and what I couldn't understand her to my friend, and somehow it ended up with Neopentane5 seeing my DM with my friend and she self attacked me on her Twitter because of the DM, revealing my personal information and writing on her Twitter that I need to kill myself.

Below this is about what exactly happened and how Neoepentane5 tried to justify her actions. I explained it with all the proof that she was wrong and spreading misinformation, including some NSFW pictures she sent.

I don't know where to start, but let me talk about what happened last year between me and her.

The first reason I cut her off :

A few months ago, a guitarist of my favorite band passed away, so I was really shocked and sad, and I wanted to talk about it to someone and get comforted. There was a discord server where I, Neopentane5, and some other people were so I went there and talked about it. One of them asked me about it, but Neopentane5 just said nothing but sent a nsfw pic right below my text, completely ignoring me.

It was really rude and disrespectful, not just because the guitarist was my favorite but it was really weird and absurd of her to send a nsfw pic when she heard that someone died. Because of this, I was feeling depressed, so I tried not to pay attention to the server and her. I muted the notifications and tried to do something else like watching movies, playing games, or going out and so on because I thought it would become better if I could ignore this.

But she kept sending a bunch of nsfw pictures like these pictures without my consent and I was really overwhelmed and mad because of it.

This is the uncensored version of the screenshots.

The second reason why I cut her off:

Around last Halloween, I posted this to do inbox trick or treating. People who wanted to join it left likes there, and everyone who left likes on that post answered back, but Neopentane5 was the only one who didn't do anything even though she left her like. I thought she might be busy, and I asked her why she hadn't answered. She said she read it and wanted to draw something for it and would post it that night, but I didn't really mind if she wanted to draw something or not, because I was content with communicating with people by sending some candy pics and it was wholesome.

She really seemed to draw one for it, and I didn't want to let her down by saying I didn't really need her drawing or so, so I gave her enough time and she didn't post anything about it even two weeks had passed. I was really getting upset and depressed because it felt like I was worthless and not worth being remembered or cared about. I stopped texting her and everyone back then because of my depression.

Then she suddenly texted me first unusually and it was like this.

She just wanted to use me for translating that picture when she clearly knew that I didn't like the reboot stuff and didn't want to see it at all. She could've just googled it and used a translator, but she still decided to ask me to translate it for her. I had been feeling really down that time, and I didn't want to text back, but I also didn't want to make her feel bad so I just joked like I was all good and translated it for her. I felt I was worthless than the google translate and she just laughed it off and didn't really care about it when she should've made a proper apology. It didn't look like a person who was genuinely feeling sorry and it made my mental state worse. So I said just forget about it, and she didn't even answer back.

Other reasons I cut her off:

I had been already feeling depressed because I had always felt that I was the only one who cared about the 'friendship' she claimed to call it. Whenever I wanted to 'talk' with her, I always had to bring something interesting related to the fandom stuff, or she didn't even reply or reply very carelessly like "okay cool" a few days later when I texted her. She also didn't text me first usually, and I noticed it when I started talking with her last year. I thought I could talk about it to her and solve the problem together, so I seriously asked her to text me first sometimes and told her that I was feeling neglected because of her lack of messages. She said she wasn't just a talkative person and didn't really start a conversation first, but it was also the same for me because I wasn't a talkative one either. At least she promised that she would change and try to message me first, but she didn't. I talked about it to her more than three times, but she didn't even try hard to keep her promise and I lost trust that it would fix anything if I talked with her.

This was the last conversation when I blocked her.

I was trying not to be rude, and I explained why I decided to distance her. If she actually cared about the 'friendship', then she should've apologized to me and asked me if we could start over. But she immediately decided to cut me off (which means she didn't care about me) and started making excuses to justify her actions.

About Neoepentane5 saying something supportive about rape:

She tried to make her words promising about rape is okay by using the logic that she's Asian and Asian people are like that. Me, as a Korean, I don't support rape and I am against people who tolerate rape in any case. I couldn't understand how could a person be okay with rape at all and I was so disgusted by it, so I vented it to my friend because I'd already cut her off and there was no way for her to see this, a few days ago. But somehow, Neopentane5 was able to see my DM which I only intended to share with my friend, and wrote about it, making excuses and revealing my Discord name and Tumblr blog to the public, allowing her followers could easily attack me when I had no intention to expose her when I was talking with my friend.

We used to be friends, but we didn't quarrel and the quarrel she means is the last conversation I wrote about above, where I was explaining why I decided to block her. I didn't drive a distance between Neopentane5 and her friends, in fact, there was only one person I asked why didn't they distance Neopentane5 yet. The friend she was talking about was also my friend, and when I decided to block her, I told the friend too. I was genuinely worried about the friend because they said that they also had problems with Neopentane5 before and had an emotionally hard time because of her.

I talked about my interaction with her to my friends, not making it go on the public. Every person can feel bad and hate someone, and I needed to vent my feelings to my friends, Neopentane5 is talking about this as if I did something wrong after seeing what she wasn't able to see. About how she could manage to see my DM, my friend shared it with someone else without my consent and their friend shared it again to another, and so on. This is a wild guess, but when I talked to the friend after blocking Neopentane5 they said they already knew what happened, and in the way Neopentane5 talked in the last conversation I had with her, it's not hard to assume that she probably said many bad things about me. I don't blame her for talking back behind my back, because it's natural to vent someone's feelings to someone, but it's very disappointing and frustrating to see her attack me.

When I said I could make her an account, she denied it because she didn't want to look weak in front of me and said it was cheap to buy a new phone number, saying it didn't even cost a single dollar.

It was one game she bought, and I told her how much I appreciated it enough that she told me to stop praising her. However, she hadn't played it once when I asked her to play it together later. I don't know what she's talking about the 'learning new ways to use AI for me' because if she's talking about CAI, I was the one who was making characters mostly and I've never asked her to make one for me.

I asked her to do RP with her because it looked like she was getting tired of CAI's waiting line and the limited responses. I said it was totally okay if she didn't want to do so, but she accepted it and then I made a server to invite her. She talked like she didn't enjoy it at all, but as embarrassing as it might sound, I enjoyed it and appreciated her for doing it together, and when I asked her if she was enjoying this too, she said yes and saved funny moments we had.

I say it again that it wasn't an argument or a quarrel. I explained why I wanted to distance her instead of just blocking her without any words, giving her the last chance to apologize and to make things better again. I explained it in the last conversation I had with her, you can read about how she keeps trying to justify her careless actions toward me by saying she's just forgetful and I don't understand her at all when I was struggling because of my depression and I needed someone to show me that they cared about me, but she couldn't understand me at all. I expected her to show it to me because she said I was special and different unlike the other friends she had, but maybe I was too naive.

I've never talked about anything related to her to the public or in my account where anyone can see it until now. Look at who decided to point me out and blame me, revealing my blog and discord account.

It's also not healthy to write me to go kill yourself.

This is all, and it was Neopentane5 who started blaming me on the Internet first. These are her Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram pages. I hope anyone who reads this will distance yourself from her and her devotees, and it would be appreciated if you could reblog this post and share it on other websites like Twitter too.

Sorry for tagging the fandom tags, but I don't want other people to suffer the same thing I did. Thank you for reading a long post. + I edited the post since it was flagged.

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

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Escapism

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (pre-apocalypse)

Warnings: Smut, 18+, this is truly sinful and unholy but he's probably my favorite dilf as of recent so. Deal with it. There's also a wholesome part to this.

Word Count: 4.5k WHAAAAAAT

Summary: This is from a request from an anon, "Joel Miller smut? Pre-apocalypse literally ANYTHING? Maybe where Sarah has been trying to get them together forever and one night something just snaps?"

Joel was never the most preceptive man.

He could see a fly from a mile away and hit it dead with anything near him but the man could not for the life of him understand the concept of flirting.

Weeks on ends, months even, of flirting with him every time he'd come into my store with Sarah, buying groceries too many times a week for a normal two person, sometimes three person, household. Sarah liked to joke that he only bought a small amount of groceries at a time because he wanted to have a reason to come back and talk to me.

I couldn't believe it at first.

He's nearly a decade older than me, there should be something creepy about it, about him, but there's something about him that draws me in, makes me completely and utterly floored every time he walks into the grocery store with his stupid flannels and stupid polite smile.

Until it became a habit.

He walks into the local store like he knows that I'm waiting for him to show up, to tell me I look pretty, compliment my braids, or ask me about my day. Most of the days it's all three. And though he was good at complimenting, sort of good at smooth talking, he was the worst at realizing when I'm giving him the same attention.

Sometimes I'd unbutton my shirt a few buttons, inviting his gaze to flicker south, though it rarely ever did. Fucking gentleman. Other times I'd conveniently run out of receipt paper and I'd have to bend down carefully, giving him a perfect opportunity to look at my ass, though there was never a chance my coworker was able to catch him in the act.

He's just so polite, never cursing in front of me, never looking away from my eyes, never offending me in any way, shape, or form. It almost makes me feel dirty for the way that I feel about him.

I don't know when it started, when the blushing and bashfulness turned into pure arousal, never being able to look into his eyes for too long without my knees buckling. There's just so much to him, a depth that I want to dive into.

And, I'd like it to be crystal clear, it was Sarah's idea for him and I to have a sort of date.

She pushed him into telling me that he was free nearly every Friday's, that he would be 'doing absolutely nothing' and she complained about how 'bored he typically is without something to do'.

Instead, she slipped up and instead of saying something, she said 'someone'.

Smart ass girl.

It was the push I needed though, to finally tell him that I don't work Friday's and would love to get to know him. Sarah was bubbling with joy at the thought of her dad and I hanging out and I thought it was adorable.

When I got a call from Joel this morning, just calling to tell me that he was excited for tonight and to let me jot down his address (though I already knew it from the membership I talked him into at the grocery store), I was freaked.

Immediately, panic set in, panic that I've never felt before. I've been on dates before, plenty, but there was something about the thought of being in his home, where him and his daughter live, alone with him, with wine. It freaked me out enough that it made me sit in my bathroom an hour before I was supposed to leave, contemplating if I should call him to cancel.

It's safe to say I didn't, I pulled myself from my bathroom floor and to his house, sitting in my car for too long before Sarah knocked on my window with a giggle, asking if I needed help finding the front door.

I didn't know what to do- I felt like a child, standing in the front hall of their home, swaying back and forth, waiting for someone to tell me what to do. For fucks sake, it took me nearly five minutes for me to actually take my shoes off.

"You two have fun! I'll be down the street at Mackenzie's!" Sarah calls out and I can practically hear the dramatic excitement in her voice, only exasperated by the fact that Joel's cheeks are red as can be as he looks out the window, raising a hand to his jaw to conceal his smile.

"Bye kiddo, feel free to not come back tonight." Joel calls out, deep bellowing voice causes my stomach to flip eagerly but it's his words that stop me in my tracts, brows pulling together in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, hearing the door shut, Joel and I now completely and utterly alone for the night. "What do you got in store?" I lean towards him, watching the way his eyes drag down the slightest bit, watching the way that my breasts swell against my top that I wore purposely to get his reaction. Fucking finally.

"That's not what I meant." He shakes his head firmly, head tilting cutely at me in an attempt to chastise me and my dirty thoughts but I just grin wickedly, loving the way that I have him stumbling over his thoughts and words.

"Mhm." I nod, tossing him a wink as I lean back into his couch, tugging my knees up to my chest in an attempt to get comfortable but all I can feel is the steady throbbing between my legs. "You should've gone with it. I'm up for whatever you've got in store." I take another sip of wine, giving myself an out when he asks why my cheeks are so red and heated.

"Gotta stop talking like that." He mumbles, adjusting himself in his seat so his knees are parted, his body reclining into the couch with ease in an attempt to get comfortable but all I can focus on is how inviting his thighs look, spread apart like that.

A perfect throne for a queen.

"Why?" His brows lift at my question, almost as if he's asking if he really needs to answer it and he doesn't, I know why he wants me to stop talking that way and it's the exact reason while I'll continue regardless. "Does it intimidate you?"

"You've had some wine, you're probably just-"

"Drunk?" I swish my wine glass back and forth, the red liquid sloshing around as his eyes flicker back and forth from the drink to my eyes that are glued on him. "I've had a half of a glass." I deadpan and he scoffs awkwardly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. "Relax, I"m not coming onto you or anything."

"No? Seems like it." He laughs, loosening up a bit as his arm stretches along the back of the couch, leaving a perfect amount of room for me to slip into the crook of his body and I fight the urge to but fail miserably.

I crawl over to his side of the couch, sitting directly beside him, his arm still staying stretched out behind me, fingers brushing against the back of my neck. He shifts so he can turn the slightest bit towards me, tongue sweeping out across his lips.

"Would you like it if I was?" His face pales, lips parting in silent shock and I giggle, taking another sip for the sake of confidence, my body warming at the drink and my proximity to the man I've pined after for so long.

"Why do you think Sarah's so keen on gettin' us together?" He asks genuinely, his once pointed gaze softening a bit and I feel myself getting more and more comfortable in his presence as the night goes on.

With us getting closer and closer, I feel the oxygen in my lungs begging to escape me, only leaving my lips in gasps as my lips chase his hungrily but there's a part of me that doesn't know if he'd reciprocate it. He's so chivalrous, I wouldn't put him past denying myself and himself a moment to just give in.

"Because she likes me and she wants you to be happy."

"And what do you want?" Joel's eyes leave mine briefly, flickering down to my lips and I feel all of my confidence wash away, the things I had planned in my head, the wishes that I wanted to come true, the things that I desperately needed to tell him- they're all gone. No thoughts can run through my head when he's shyly glancing at my lips, almost as if he wants to lean forward and taste them.

"To be taken care of." The honest answer leaves my lips before I can stop the words and my eyes widen briefly out of fear that he'll run for the hills or blame it on the wine but he doesn't, he just waits patiently for me to explain. It'll take a minute or two in the state that I'm in. "Never been taking care of before, especially by a man."

"That's a shame." He scoffs, setting his glass of wine down, implying something greater than him being done with his drink, especially with the way that his hand comes down to rest inches away from my bare knee.

"All this talent- gone to waste."

"It's just sad to hear a beautiful girl like you doesn't have more men falling over her." His eyes don't meet mine but his words meet my ears and force a shiver down my spine, my body shivering as his hand reaches up to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, shamelessly and unwavering.

"I don't have a lot of time to notice many men, I guess." My voice quivers more than I wished it would've but I choose to ignore it, my confidence suddenly rising at the realization that this is Joel being handsy; subtle touches along the back of my neck, touching my cheek, fingers brushing against my knee and leaving room for me to fit perfectly in his side.

We've bridged the gap of my checkout counter and scanning belt, now only inches away from each other instead of feet. He's just how I imagined he'd feel as I lift my hand to rest on his chest, briefly brushing over the neckline of his simple t-shirt.

"You noticed me." He mutters bashfully, cheeks heating up once more and his blush crawls down the expanse of his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Your daughter kind of forced you into my point of view."

"I'm sorry about her." He laughs, looking down at his lap again, nervously toying with his fingers. I reach out to him, setting my small hand atop his, stopping his fidgeting in its tracks and causing his eyes to lift to mine.

"I'm not." I grin, giving his hand a simple squeeze before setting my wine down beside his, opening up my hands and arms for him just in case he wants the opportunity to sink into me.

"You're good at this. I'm a little rusty." He admits bashfully with a soft smile, eyes flickering out the window once more to distract himself, sun setting in the sky as the TV plays quietly in the background.

"That's okay." I whisper, fingers hesitantly reaching out to brush across his jaw and I worry briefly that he'll push me away, tell me that he's not a touchy person, but instead his eyes flutter shut and he leans into my tongue, almost desperately. "I'm not asking for much."

"I know you're not and that's what's fucking scary." He laughs, chest rumbling and I smile, giving him a simple shrug. My simplicity is what I always assumed would bring Joel and I close to each other, neither of us having much time for games especially in the world of dating. "It's easy- being with you, I mean."

"Really? Cuz you're really hard to be with." I tease, watching his eyes widen in brief fear but I put an end to it almost immediately. "I feel like my heart's going to burst out of my chest."

"You're joking?" He asks sincerely, brows tugging together and I laugh.

"I'm not. The amount of times Sarah's muttered 'be cool' to me before you've rolled your cart up to the check out line is too many times to count on two hands." He looks beyond surprised, lips fanning out into a cocky smirk, confidence brightening up his once nervous expression.

"I never knew I had that effect on you."

"Then I've done a good job at not looking like an idiot."

"I'm the idiot." He laughs, leaning into me briefly, hand sneaking around my shoulder so his fingers can draw simple circles on my bicep. "Should've asked you out without the help of my teenage daughter."

"She planned this, didn't she?" I ask with a tilt of my head but I already know the answer, knowing that Sarah has wanted us together for the longest time, making sly comments throughout the months about how much she loves to see her dad so happy. "Us coming together, being alone?"

"Not the smartest idea, huh?" He adjusts in his seat and I eye his thighs carefully but not carefully enough cuz his fingers tap my arm in an attempt to get my attention and I laugh bashfully before addressing his comment.

"Why?"

"I don't trust myself around you." He admits with a heavy sigh.

"Good." I smirk, hands reaching out to massage his shoulder, electricity sparking under my touch and I feel him visibly tense beside me, eyes watching my fingers out of the corner of his eyes. "You need to loosen up a bit."

"Now you're coming onto me." I giggle, leaning into him, tucking my face into the crook of his neck, finally giving into him and he does the same, pulling me into him by the shoulder, arm tightening around me almost as if he's trying to keep me tucked into him.

"Sure am." His large hand soothes over my thighs that are curled up on his own and it makes me freeze, head tilting up so I can look up at him through my lashes, catching the way his eyes flicker down to my lips.

Before I can process it, his lips are on mine, softly and unbelievably timid, his hand gently cupping my jaw while his thumb tucks beneath my chin so he can kiss me better, my whole body frozen in his touch.

He's a good kisser, a better kisser than I would've anticipated, especially with how single he's been for so long. I always thought that it would be me- the experienced one, the confident one- but with his lips on mine I feel completely and utterly at his mercy.

This isn't fair.

Taking a leap of faith, I swing a leg over his thighs, finally sitting where I've wanted to all night, sinking down onto his thighs with a moan, not once slipping from his hungry lips. His hands grip my waist, dragging me against him and a surprised gasp leaves me, lips finally parting from his as I gasp in a few breaths, wide eyes looking back at me.

"Hi." I whisper breathlessly, loving the huge smile that spreads across his lips at my fragile tone and I can feel my body trembling against his, all of my nerves from the last few months coming out all at once.

"You good?"

"I just-" I start but air forces it's way into my lungs in an exasperated gasp. "I've been thinking about this, dreaming about this, for months." His eyes are so incredibly soft as he looks- gazes- adoringly up at me, hands encompassing my hot cheeks in his hands, forcing me to look at him clearer.

"I should've kissed you months ago." I grin obnoxiously into the next kiss he gives me, squealing when he lifts me further into his arms, standing up with almost no hesitation, arms looped around my shaking thighs.

"Where are we going?" I ask with a breathless giggle, holding onto him tight as my fingers card through his hair.

"Depends where you wanna do this?" Fuck. I tuck my face in the crook of his neck, almost needing to hide from him with the way that he's speaking to me, my stomach twisting and legs desperately clenching around his waist.

"Fuck." I whisper, feeling his chest rumble against mine. "I wanna be comfortable."

"Bed it is, then."

By the time we make it to be the bedroom, his hands are pushing the top of my dress down over my shoulders, hungry lips finding purchase on the junction of my neck, biting and sucking a bright red mark into my heated skin.

I can barely keep up with him like this, the way he's already pushing my clothes off, chasing my lips, hands exploring everywhere they can- it's almost overwhelming but I'd never want him to stop.

I fumble with his t-shirt, tugging it over his head with an excited giggle, immediately finding his lips once more after tossing his t-shirt to the ground. I'm pushing him back on the bed before he can take control again, deciding to find my confidence once more as I straddle his hips.

"Is this how we're doing this?" Joel asks, arms tossed over his head and I just take a second to think about how handsome he is, sweaty hair matted to his forehead, eyes completely soft but his pupils are taking up nearly all of his beautiful brown eyes, simply from arousal.

"That okay with you?" I ask, dragging my nails down his chest, seeing soft pink marks in their wake and his eyes widen, lip tucking between his teeth as he watches me grind myself against him, the roughness of his jeans satisfying the need for friction.

"Do you see me arguing?" He asks, brows furrowing in faux confusion and I grin wickedly, fingers toying with the waistband of the denim, watching the anticipatory look pass through Joel's expression.

"Good." I pop the button with ease, the sound of the zipper undoing acting like magic to my ears. "Because I've been thinking about this for months." He helps me kick his jeans off and onto the floor and my mouth waters, seeing the print of his cock beneath his boxers.

"You are gorgeous." The compliment makes me impossibly wetter than I was before, my lips parting in breathy gasps as tug his boxers off, his cock springing up and into my hand.

I grin, taking his breath away as I give him a few strokes for good measure, before lifting onto my knees, not even bothering to take my panties off. I pull them aside, biting my lip to conceal the plethora of curses that want to fly out of me as I drag his cock against my clit, bumping the sensitive bundle of nerves with every stripe I make.

"Fuck, woman, you're killing me." He groans, back arching off the bed as his hands find my thighs, giving them a firm squeeze, urging me to sink down on him and I do, slowly, giving myself time to adjust.

My jaw drops in a silent groan, nothing but a gasped breath leaving me and I firmly plant my hands on his chest, giving myself a moment to think about nothing but the stretch that his cock is giving me.

"Fuck Joel." I whisper, lifting my hips gently as Joel takes control, meeting my thrusts to lift his hip up and against me and he feels deeper and deeper every time our hips meet. His thumb slips down, brushing skillfully across my clit and I fold, my body collapsing on top of his, face tucking into the crook of his neck.

"You wanna keep going?" He asks breathlessly, pressing kisses to my cheek and my hairline, reassuring me and comforting me throughout the way and it makes my heart swell with something greater than care.

"Please just fuck me hard, I need to cum." He flips me on my back in a second, hitting the deepest parts of me as he hikes one of my legs over his hip, biceps tensing as he holds himself up, pounding into me at an unrelenting pace. "Then we can worry about soft."

He takes my words seriously, leaning up so he can look down at me, spine straightening and his hips work like a piston, chest rising and falling in frantic breaths as his head tips back in pleasure, a loud groan leaving him.

We're chasing our highs like we've chased after each other the last few months, all of the pining and shy smiles coming down to this one moment of trust and closeness. It almost makes me emotional to think of how madly in love with him I've been just from afar, that I'm here right now, in his bed with a giddy smile on my lips.

Most people say its impractical that couples can finish at the same time but when I finally topple over the edge, Joel's arms wrapped firmly around my trembling body, it pulls him along with me, cumming with a loud groan.

"Fuck." We whisper at the same time, tipsy, tired giggles leaving us as our hearts pound, coming down from our highs slowly but surely. He rubs my hips soothingly and I begin to feel the familiar ache of my joints after being carried and tossed around, our giggles dying down into small laughs and slowly even that turn into kisses.

"Wanna go to dinner next weekend?" Joels asks, rolling off of me and onto his back and an 'oof', looking to me with a bright grin, his cheeks dusted in a gentle pink.

"Wanna go to dinner now?" I offer, clutching his bedsheets to my chest as I roll onto my stomach, pecking his bicep gently as I curl into his side for the second time tonight.

"Breakfast for dinner?" His eyes widen excitedly at his own offer and I nod, feeling completely and utterly safe and sound in his bed right now. There's no judgment, no worries on my end, just happy to be here after all of this time of wishing I could be with him.

"I adore you."

#joel #joel x reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n

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3mcwritingmcuhcs · 10 months

Text

How the Avengers Would React to You Falling Asleep on Their Shoulder

(Includes: Thor and Natasha, was gonna do more but i got tired lol, gonna be a part 2 posted later with other Avengers)

Now, we all know Thor is a huge himbo.

He's huge on physical affection--hugs, ruffling people's hair, patting them on the back--if he has adopted you as his friend, you are now subject to being bombarded with pure, wholesome, himbo interactions.

Now, let's say that one night, during one of the usual movie nights (bc you can't tell me that they didn't have any), you sat down next to him. Well, as we've established, he is very physically affectionate, which means that whoever ends up next to him pretty much volunteers to be his personal teddy bear.

One week it was Steve, the next it was Tony (though if ever brought up, he'd only pull up a video of when Thor did it to Steve), honestly, almost everyone had been in that position.

But this night, you were more tired than usual. Training had been harder that day, you hadn't gotten a great amount of sleep, and you were just exhausted.

Enter Thor's natural cuddliness.

You scooted up next to him on the large couch, leaning your head back against his side. Before you knew it, the comfortable warmth combined with him shifting to where your head was cushioned against his rather voluptuous pecs, had meant you were entirely too comfortable.

Five minutes into the movie and you were out.

Thor didn't notice until Natasha pointed out, too entranced with the strange Midgardian performance on the screen.

"Huh, I guess she wasn't exaggerating when she said she was exhausted," Natasha had commented, making Thor look to his left, only for that movement to cause you to slide.

Luckily, you didn't wake up, and instead only curled closer into his side.

Thor just looked down at you in awe.

You looked so pretty.

He stayed entirely still for the rest of the movie night, determined to let you rest as long as you needed.

He succeeded, but at the cost of him also dozing off on the couch.

The rest of the team saw the content expressions and let you two be, though a certain someone was very tempted to draw mustaches on the both of you.

Natasha isn't a super touchy person.

After years of being nothing but a weapon for other's use, her bodily autonomy was something she couldn't bear to lose.

That's not to say that she couldn't be autonomous while still having no problem with touch, but she had used her body to get what others wanted for years.

She couldn't just forget all that and be able to hug people like anybody else. She had to work through it. And though she spent years reclaiming herself, making things right, things still stuck.

With the people she genuinely cared about, she was comfortable with physical affection, but she also didn't feel pressured into giving it. She didn't have to act like nothing phased her.

With you, she could just be Nat, not "the Black Widow" or "Natalie Rushman" or even "Natasha Romanoff". She wasn't an Avenger or a spy or an agent.

She was just her.

Given how close the two of you were, you had grown to understand her unease with sudden physical affection.

You respected her boundaries, only giving her that type of affection when she specifically said that it was okay.

One day though, you broke your rule of asking first.

It was dark out, the two of you were on the roof of the compound, looking up at the sky.

You were both sitting up, talking quietly, the occasional laugh exchanged.

But you had severely underestimated how tired you were.

Natasha felt your head rest on her shoulder, being faintly surprised just because you hadn't asked as you usually did.

But when she saw that your eyes were closed and your breathing was slow and even, she smiled softly.

Sure, touch wasn't her forte, but you had never made her uncomfortable, you had never pressured her, you had always stood close (but not too close, because you understood her need for personal space), and smiled at her sincerely no matter what.

Having you fall asleep on her shoulder, well, it just felt like the most pure affirmation that you trusted her.

And maybe she wouldn't let most people do it.

But you weren't most people.

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #thor x reader #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor odinson #avengers x reader #the avengers

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https-capri · 10 months

Text

zhongli x fem!reader smut

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

cw: watersports!!! don't like? done read! pwop, i really don't know it's just all smut, no caps is on purpose oh and use of petnames also

a/n: this fic is a little self indulgent because watersports is something i'm into, if you're not then don't read please don't leave hateful comments

__________________________________________

the night was still young when zhongli had already had you in multiple positions. moments ago, he had you bent over while his cock plunged in and out of you. he thrusted rhythmically into your wet cunt, pulling multiple orgasms out of you and the clock hadn't even struck midnight.

zhongli almost always preferred passionate sex when it came to you. he took his sweet time drawing his kisses from your lips down to your jaw and worked his way down the rest of your body; making sure he payed much attention to your sweet puffy and needy clit.

he made a habit of swirling his tongue in circles over your bud while his fingers slowly slid in and out of you, curling them once they went as deep as they could into your entrance.

zhongli slid his tongue up your slit, letting out a guttural laugh in response to your weak mewls and whimpers that begged him to stop teasing and edging you. after what felt like forever would zhongli finally let you come, sucking harshly on your clit and allowing you to come on his face.

cries and moans left your mouth about how it was 'too much' and you were 'overstimulated' but he insisted you could take it since you begged so sincerely for this. his hands never left your cunt but his lips worked there way back up your body, stopping to swirl his tongue around the areola of your nipple.

your pussy desperately chased the feeling of zhongli's lips as your hips drove into the air, humping his hand while he languidly circled your clit.

"your dick, baby.. need it 's much..." you whine, breathing heavily and pulling zhongli level to you.

your hands fill themselves with his chestnut hair and tug gently as you kiss him; deeply. your tongue swipes his bottom lip, to which he smiles in return and playfully bites yours.

the air between the both of you feels sweet and wholesome only momentarily when you feel the girth of zhongli's cock sliding into your cunt.

even though you were prepped the sheer size was always a shock to your body as a gasp escapes your lips, clinging onto zhongli.

"shhh, it's alright darling you can take it, i know you can." he says softly, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead after reassuring you.

zhongli slides the rest of his dick into you until he bottoms out, letting out a deep moan and having to hold back from rutting into your cunt that was sucking him in so devilishly.

his come from the rounds before served as lube now while you felt zhongli carefully sliding in and out of you. he wanted to make moments like these last, which is why he never moved too fast so neither of you would finish too early. though, that was never a problem with zhongli to begin with.

slowly pumping in and out of your gushing hole, zhongli held you close and made sure you kept your gaze fixated on him as he pleasured you.

he lifted your legs up and over his broad shoulders, hitting so much deeper into your cunt you were positive his tip was hitting your cervix with each thrust. a moan slipped from your lips, louder than the rest had been and grabbed your lovers attention.

"right there, hm? are you close, love?" zhongli asked, continuing to pound relentlessly at that one spot that had you tensing around his shaft.

he didn't have to ask to know you were close, he could tell by the way you were dripping around the base of his shaft and clenching around him that told him you were on the edge of finishing.

with that in mind, zhongli decided to make your orgasm a little more fun; knowing it wouldn't be your last one for the night.

as he rutted his hips into yours, hitting that one spot over and over again you couldn't help the whines and sinful begging that was leaving your lips.

"zhongli! 'm so close, don't stop~!" you pleaded, holding onto the forearms that caged you in tightly.

"i know, honey-" he replied calmly, thrusting into you quickly before pulling out, making your cunt clench onto nothing as your body yearns for another orgasm.

you desperately beg for him not to edge you another time but are cut off by a grunt from zhongli.

a warm stream splashes against your clit, resuming your pleasure.

"does that feel good, sweetheart?" zhongli asks innocently, as if he isn't relieving himself onto your pussy.

a incoherent jumble of moans and whines leave your plump and swollen lips, spreading your legs further and lifting your hips closer to his tip as zhongli continues to aim his stream directly on your clit. you never imagined zhongli being the type to be into such a thing but the way his piss felt on your clit when you were this close to your orgasm was indescribable.

his stream feels strong enough to aid in your orgasm, begging for him to keep going and that you were close.

his piss was a new found pleasure, leaving you to grope and toy with your nipples as zhongli's golden shower brought you to your orgasm. your body tensed, feeling your mind spin as you came from zhongli's stream on your puffy cunt.

you moaned zhongli's name, whining and whimpering that you were coming as zhongli's piss soaked your pussy. your stomach churned and filled with butterflies after you came, rolling your eyes back in bliss while zhongli's urine drenched you.

as your body recovered from its high, the jolting was at a minimal and zhongli was above you, panting as he shot his last spurts of urine onto your clit until he was satisfied. he finished emptying his bladder onto you before collapsing on top of you, kissing you sweetly and briefly resting; giving the both of you some time before your next round.

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egophiliac · 1 year

Note

please i would like to know more knitting headcanons if you have them. i love the most wholesome cozy headcanons out there

this got SO away from me, I'm so sorry, it started as "here is some needlework-related headcanon" and then I just lost my entire mind and it turned into "here are Scenarios about characters doing crafts". I…wasn't kidding about dedicating large amounts of time thinking about characters making things out of yarn.

it's not quite a fanfic but, uhhh, take it about as seriously as you take my comics, I guess. :') we're all just having fun here!

the closest Grim has gotten to knitting is the time he ate half a skein of yarn because it "looked spicy". (that was not a fun day for Yuu or the Ramshackle bathroom.) the ghosts, meanwhile, have canonically have made clothes for Yuu and Grim and, honestly, they're probably their own little knitting club (and Yuu's self-appointed eccentric granduncles). you know they're loving having an actual person to play dress-up make things for. we shall be well-prepared for any more impromptu Tsunotarou snowstorms.

Riddle, Trey, and Jamil all know the basics of sewing, but don't do any needling beyond mending/darning/general upkeep. they're all annoyingly practical. (Najma is also annoyingly practical, but she's more fashion-forward about it than Jamil. she's probably really into visible mending.)

Ruggie and Epel probably do know how to knit, in addition to those basics, but to them it's more of a utilitarian thing (need a new warm hat for the winter!) than something they do for fun. on that note, I think Epel wouldn't really have a complex about knitting -- partly because it IS a practical skill to have for those Harveston winters, and partly because he would have learned from Marja, and no one would dare imply Marja is anything less than absolutely badass.

meanwhile Ruggie is over here gleefully unravelling Leona's old sweaters so he can make himself a cashmere hat. it'sfreeyarn.jpg

Jack crochets little cozies and accessories for his cactus. he makes seasonal and holiday-themed versions with cute little sewn-on buttons and, you know what, now I need to draw event outfits for a cactus. hold on.

Deuce's mom definitely knits. he might've learned the basics from her when he was little, but never used them until recently, when he's been trying to pick it back up in order to make her a gift. (there's probably a heartwarming story in there about a special scarf or something that she made him that he's trying to replicate for her.) he's been at it for literally months now because he keeps screwing up his math and Riddle has to help him fix it.

Ace doesn't do any needlecraft, and razzed Deuce about it for a while until he found out the reason he was so Determined is because it's for his mom (and also the heartwarming story about the special scarf or whatever). so then he felt kind of guilty, and since he'd rather die than admit it, resolved to just never mention it again. except Deuce is so hilariously inept that not making fun of him is really, really hard. so Ace is just sitting there having a personal crisis every time Deuce whips out his needles and adorable little yarn basket. his life is so difficult. :(

Cater bought an amigurumi kit once when they were The Thing on Magicam. he made a few hedgehogs, took pictures, then gave them away to his friends and hasn't thought about them since. (Riddle was so moved by the gift that he forgot to yell at the first-years for a whole day. his hedgehog has a place of honor on his desk.)

Leona has never touched a needle in his life, and would be insulted if you implied he might enjoy expending a small amount of energy over anything he doesn't have to.

Kalim has touched a needle, once, when he tried to help mend something. he was so atrocious at it that Jamil forbade him from ever touching one again. if he started knitting it would probably give Jamil heart problems.

Azul strikes me as being someone who always has to be doing something. but he also doesn't like the inefficiency of spending so much time and effort without much return (personal satisfaction doesn't count). so I think he doesn't really do any crafting outside of whatever's necessary for whatever bit he's running at the moment…though maybe there's a tasteful stitched sampler or two hanging on a wall in Mostro. just because.

Jade is a little more crafty (ho ho, puns) outside of Schemes. by which I mean he exclusively makes mushroom-related decor and insists on hanging it up in Mostro. (Azul keeps asking him to stop. Jade pretends not to hear.)

Floyd once knit most of a densely-cabled fisherman's sweater in half a day. he got within 200 stitches of finishing before he got bored and never got back to it.

Vil probably, like…spent a week making a pair of cute mitts or something, and was really proud of them! then Neige made the mistake of getting super excited and trying to bond over it, and inadvertently soured Vil on knitting forever.

Rook I genuinely believe is both capable of doing everything, and also actively involved in using those skills at any given time. he could make an offhand remark about how he's been needlefelting tiny petals to stitch together into an elaborate rose-themed bodysuit and I would just be like "yep, that tracks."

he could also mention that he just put the finishing touches on the statue of Neige made out of hair that he keeps in the Hey Arnold-style shrine in his closet, and I would still be like "yep, that tracks".

I don't think Idia knits, but he might have bit of theoretical interest in it because of the relationship between knitting and binary? he probably spent a while trying to figure out if he could somehow make a playable version of Doom on a sweater. (it's magic, so yes. he doesn't want to actually have to make the sweater though.)

Ortho once made a hat and some mittens for Idia. it might be cold when they finally go to the park. :)

Malleus has a tapestry that's been his quick breather project for the last 400 years. he was vexed when he ran out of a color that hasn't been produced since the plant the dye came from went extinct a century ago. >:( the new flosses just aren't the same.

Sebek has tried embroidery in order to feel closer to ~wakasama~ but he doesn't have the patience for it. he's trying, though! his daisies are barely lazy at all these days! (he would probably actually be really good at knitting, since a lot of it is just…following instructions and doing math. since his main point of reference right now is Lilia, he hasn't figured this out.)

Lilia knits poorly and with much gusto. gauge? never heard of her. tension? this is supposed to be a relaxing hobby! it's unclear if he knows how bad he is, or if he's deliberately trying to see how embarrassing he can get before the others stop wearing the things he makes them. (they never will.) either way, he's having fun!

Silver was a self-sufficient little homestead boy by the time he was twelve, so of course he knows all the fun things you can do with wool (fortunately he learned how to knit before Lilia had a chance to ruin him) (idk, a friendly squirrel taught him or something, he's a literal disney princess his life is like that). he has a unique talent for being able to sit there asleep and somehow still spin perfectly consistent yarn.

look, I just want Silver to use a spinning wheel, c'mon

Neige and Silver both make tiny sweaters for orphaned baby animals. Neige's are more skilled (they have colorwork and little seed buttons) but Silver's are softer, since they're made from the wool that his forest bunny friends gather for him and donate to the cause. (Ace heard him mention this once and had to go have another personal crisis over it.)

this also ties into another absolutely unfounded headcanon I have about Silver and Neige being friends with the same bluebird family that alternates island sides for breakfast and dinner. there isn't any more to it, I just think it'd be cute. 🐦

orphan baby animals aside, Neige absolutely 1000% knits and you'll never convince me otherwise. he made that sweater. he made Snick's scarf. if you spend too long around him he'll have already started making you a cardigan in your favorite color. the dwarves don't knit because they don't have to. (wait, no, Timmy probably does -- you never actually see him do it, but every once in a while there's a new aggressively cute potholder added to the collection. Toby has tried, but he is physically incapable of not dropping stitches everywhere and ending up with a sad little pile of yarn.)

Che'nya says he does yarn sculpture, but really he's just batting the yarn balls around and leaving them for someone else to clean up.

Rollo does enormous cross-stitch recreations of illuminated manuscripts on 60-count linen (over one, of course). he will lecture you for two hours on how much he does not enjoy doing it and how that makes him better than you.

Mickey doesn't (I SAID EVERYONE). I'm sure his girlfriend knits though.

Crowley enters stitching competitions at the local fair. his depictions of handsome-looking ravens in top hats do better than you'd think, but he still keeps losing to goddamn Ambrose with his perfect backs and railroaded stitches and no hoop marks and…

resisting the urge to say that Crewel does crewel. failing.

…okay, but look, he does fashion design in canon, it MAKES SENSE --

Trein is a Good Cat Owner, so (after carefully researching durable and pet-safe materials) he crochets little mice with catnip inside. he gets a deep sense of satisfaction at seeing them get torn to shreds. :)

Sam doesn't partake himself, but he does have weirdly intricate knowledge of every potential needlecrafting technique and the associated tools -- which he just so happens to have in stock now!

like Rook, I do believe that Sam just…knows everything, through his "friends" or otherwise. he could start spouting details about the historic production of goldwork thread, and as long as he then offers to sell something to us while shouting gratuitous English, it would feel perfectly in-character.

you wouldn't think Vargas would be into crafting, but he did spend a week painstakingly painting antlers onto a hoodie for his deer cosplay. magic? pah! he didn't get these muscles by NOT smearing craft-store fabric paint everywhere BY HAND.

(this is also why Crewel agreed to wear the…thing…that Vargas made for his turn at being camp monster. he actually spent time and effort on it and the whole idea was giving Crewel his own personal crisis.)

this got so far away from me, I am so, so sorry

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland spoilers #there's probably some in there somewhere? i forget what has and hasn't gotten to eng yet #long post #...again i am so sorry #i THINK i got everyone. there's probably some major character i somehow managed to embarrassingly forget about. oh god #(the mirror is exempted on account of not having hands)#disclaimer that i try to keep up with canon but i do sometimes miss or forget things #so if something contradicts canon that's just me being a doofus #i mean this is 100% me just making things up anyway so take it as you will #i am not in a right state of mind right now

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heart-2-get · 4 months

Note

A bondage story with power exchange and then wholesome cardiophilia aftercare would be sooo cute and like what if it was about princesses or something :’)

this is my first time ever writing anything like this! it turned out to be a lot more about the power exchange than the bondage or cardiophilia, but the ending is soft and sweet and hopefully focused just enough on the heartbeats to be good! enjoy!

“N-nineteen!” Alexandra cried, tears welling along her lash line and spilling down over her cheeks. Her skin was so warm and flushed she was surprised they didn’t just evaporate into thin air on the spot rather than drenching the satin sheets beneath her as the sound of her mistress’ hairbrush striking her skin cracked through the air.

“Good girl,” Celeste purred, gently caressing Alexandra’s angry, welted skin with the back of the hand that held the brush. “You’re so close, sweetheart. Just one more. Do you think you can take it for me?”

Alexandra nodded, yelping as she felt her mistress’ other hand slip up along her spine and fist in her curls, yanking her head back sharply. She didn’t need to be prompted to know what the tug meant.

“Yes, your highness,” she choked, breathing a sigh of relief as the grip on her hair eased. “Anything for you.”

Without any time or warning, the hairbrush came down on Alexandra’s backside one last time, pulling a shrill keen from her throat and causing her to sag into her mistress’ lap with a broken sob as she choked out a raspy twenty. She bit her lip to stifle any more cries, afraid to earn herself any more swats. She’d already gone from fifteen to twenty by squirming and protesting; if nothing else, she’d learned her lesson.

“There we go, we’re all done with your punishment,” Celeste murmured softly, setting the hairbrush aside and smoothing her palm over Alexandra’s inflamed skin, drawing a soft mewl out of her sub. She gripped the other woman’s cheek firmly, carefully pulling it aside, watching Alexandra’s slit part just a little along with her buttocks, strings of slick clinging to her swollen pink folds. “It looks like you enjoyed it. I knew you would. No matter how much you protest, you always get so wet when I spank you.”

Alexandra shuddered as she felt her mistress’ fingertips skirt along her cheek before slipping in the wetness between her thighs. She couldn’t help the wanton moan that slipped out when one of those fingers sank deep into her tight, needy pussy. It felt so good but it wasn’t nearly enough and she earned herself another hair pull as she arched her hips in a desperate attempt to take the finger even deeper.

“Not yet,” Celeste tutted disapprovingly. “You don’t want me to have to spank you some more, do you?”

“No, my lady,” Alexandra warbled hurriedly. “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll behave.”

“Good.” Celeste worked her finger out half way and slowly thrust back inside, her knuckle dragging against the other woman’s g-spot in the process. “You know you’ll be rewarded soon. I just want to play with your sweet little cunt a little before I let you come. You know how much I love splitting you open on my fingers.”

Alexandra did know and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t absolutely love being stretched open and toyed with. Though she and Celeste were of equal stature in their respective kingdoms, behind closed doors she loved feeling small and precious and filthy and used. It helped to loosen something inside of her chest, the knot that began to form when she’d been in charge for a little too long without an outlet. Letting Celeste take the reins gave her brain a chance to click off for a little while and she relished the time they got to spend together.

“Who does this pussy belong to?”

Alexandra moaned as a second finger joined the first, scissoring open inside of her, stretching her exquisitely around the intrusion.

“You, your highness.” She clenched around the invading fingers and was rewarded with a caress down her back. “All of me belongs to you.”

Celeste hummed contentedly, her fingers curling and gently bumping her sub’s cervix, causing stars to explode behind Alexandra’s tightly closed eyelids. She teased the moaning, mewling woman for another moment or two before pulling her fingers out, gently patting Alexandra’s thigh.

“On your back and spread your legs for me,” Celeste ordered, watching as Alexandra hurried to obey. Her eyes tracked the other woman as she circled the bed and she gave her sub a few moments to settle in before getting to her feet. Moving to the foot of the bed, she took a moment just to admire the sight before her. Her sub looked beautiful with her breasts heaving, nipples pebbled from arousal and legs spread wide to reveal her soaking wet, glistening cunt.

“I bet you’re going to taste extra sweet after all the abuse your poor little ass took,” Celeste murmured as she climbed onto the bed and crawled in between Alexandra’s thighs.

“Yes, please, your highness,” Alexandra begged, her heels digging into the mattress.

“Use your words, my sweet girl,” Celeste encouraged her sub. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want your mouth on me.” Alexandra swallowed thickly, moaning softly at the mere thought of it. “O-on my pussy. Please, my lady.”

Celeste chuckled softly, situating herself low on the bed, her face mere inches from Alexandra’s folds. “I can’t help but give you what you want when you beg so pretty.”

Without another word, Celeste leaned in, her mouth closing around Alexandra’s clit. She smiled as Alexandra’s hips rolled of their own volition, bringing her clit deeper into Celeste’s mouth, making it that much easier to swirl her tongue around it. As she suckled on the swollen little nub, her fingers found Alexandra’s opening again, sinking inside just as easily as they had before. She was rewarded with a gasp and cry from her sub and she encouraged the other woman with a broad sweep of her tongue over her folds.

For the next several minutes, Celeste worked Alexandra into a fervor. Alternating between licks, sucks, and nips to her clit and deep thrusts of her fingers into Alexandra’s hot, wet pussy, Celeste coaxed her toward an orgasm. She could tell when Alexandra was getting close, knew just by the way Alexandra’s core spasmed around her penetrating fingers and the way her body writhed, chest heaving with shallow, desperate breaths.

“I’m going to come, your highness,” Alexandra gasped breathlessly as Celeste sank a third finger into her waiting cunt, stretching her to her limit. “May I please come? I-I can’t hold it much longer!”

Celeste hummed, her mouth otherwise occupied, and edged Alexandra for another few seconds before lifting her head, never once missing a beat with her fingers, continuing their quick, maddening thrusting.

“You know that’s not how we usually do things,” she hedged, her thumb coming up to take over teasing Alexandra’s clit. “But since you took your punishment so well, I think I can be persuaded. Ask me one more time, princess.”

Alexandra whimpered, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to hold back the tide of her climax. “Please, my lady, may I come? You feel so good inside me. Please!”

Celeste drove her fingers in deep, stilling them inside as her thumb continued to rub Alexandra’s clit. “Come for me.”

A heartbeat or two later and Alexandra was arching off the bed, her hips jerking as her thighs quivered, pussy clenching tight around Celeste’s fingers. Celeste could feel the intensity of the orgasm as Alexandra rode it out and she relished each and every gasp and shout that tumbled from the other woman’s lips. She murmured soft encouragements, rubbing Alexandra’s g-spot with a fierce precision that kept wave after wave of pleasure rolling through her sub’s body. She lifted her free hand and splayed it across Alexandra’s belly, pressing in deeply to calm the savage bucking of the girl’s hips.

As Alexandra’s orgasm finally started to subside and her body collapsed bonelessly against the mattress, Celeste was treated to the frantic fluttering of the artery running through Alexandra’s belly beneath her hand. It stuttered a little when she carefully eased her fingers out from inside Alexandra’s spent and dripping pussy and Celeste couldn’t help but grin at the sensation knowing that she was responsible for the strain on her sub’s heart.

“You did so well,” she praised as she propped herself on her elbows before slowly rising to her knees, looking down at Alexandra’s exhausted form, her sub’s chest heaving as she desperately tried to catch her breath and calm her racing heartbeat.

Celeste shifted, shifting backwards off the bed and rising, meeting Alexandra’s gaze. “Don’t move just yet, sweetheart; I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the ensuite bathroom for a minute, returning a short while later with a warm, wet cloth and coming to kneel between Alexandra’s thighs once more. She made quick work of carefully cleaning the other woman up, wiping away the slick and saliva that was quickly drying along her folds, and tossed the cloth aside as she finished up.

“How are you feeling?” Celeste asked as she made her way around to Alexandra’s side, crawling in next to her and gently laying a hand on her belly.

“M’good,” Alexandra murmured sleepily, her words slurring a little as she drifted in the blissful void between subspace and lucidity.

“Do you need anything?”

Alexandra shook her head, her half-lidded gaze falling on Celeste. “Can we just snuggle?”

“Of course,” Celeste said softly, lying down next to Alexandra and slipping a hand under the other girl’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “Come here, princess.”

She kept still as Alexandra shifted around a little before finally settling with her head on Celeste’s chest. Celeste smiled, carding her fingers through Alexandra’s hair, knowing the other woman could hear her slow, steady heartbeat. She slipped her hand over Alexandra’s ribs, pressing her palm to the special spot beneath her sub’s breast where she knew her heartbeat was strongest. Alexandra’s heart rate was still on the high side, but Celeste knew it wouldn’t be long before it slowed down to a much more relaxed pace.

“You’re so beautiful,” Celeste murmured, dipping her head to press a kiss into Alexandra’s hair. “My good girl.”

“All yours,” Alexandra whispered breathily.

Celeste hummed, her palm pressing a little more firmly against Alexandra’s heartbeat.

“Your heart and soul belong to me,” she agreed. “And mine to you.”

Alexandra made a breathy noise of acknowledgment. It was the last effort she made before her breathing evened out and Celeste knew she’d fallen asleep. She could feel Alexandra’s heartbeat settle into a slow, steady rhythm beneath her hand as sleep claimed her and she was content to simply hold the other woman close. After all, Alexandra’s heart was a precious gift that had been given to Celeste with the utmost trust and she would treat it with all the love and care in the world for as long as Alexandra let her.

feel free to request something!

#cardiophile #cardiophilia #writing #cardiophile stories #female heartbeat #power exchange #wlw #f/f #heartbeat k!nk #heartbeat k1nk #princesses #d/s

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infernal-house-demon · 2 months

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3 episodes in to Dungeon Meshi and here are my thoughts on no particular order:

Laios is incredibly autistic

Oh wait they’re all autistic

The worldbuilding in this show is absolutely delicious (no pun intended)

I need to know everything about Chilchuck right the fuck now!

Senshi my beloved. He now lives in my head trying to get me to take care of myself. I might go for a walk. I will never skip a meal again.

Not to be horny on main but whoever is animating Senshi’s thighs needs a raise and I want to kiss them with tongue

Marcille is so relatable. I love her. She’s me-coded

As soon as Laios asked if that living armour was edible I knew they were gonna be eating it somehow by the end of the episode

Obsessed with all the cooking sequences. I might actually want to try making something? Idk, this is making me appreciate the beauty of the process

10/10 scene where Laios is asking Marcille about what the parasitic vines felt like. The hard cut to her completely unnerved expression

Love the overall wholesomeness in a show that also has like brutal violence. It’s a perfectly balanced combo

Also love Senshi shortly after being introduced being like “the red dragon? I’ve been wanting to eat that fucker for ages.”

Ima need them to save poor Falin from being digested. I will cry if they don’t get her out

I would literally binge this all day if I didn’t have to work. It’s about to go full hyperfixation level obsession. I want to draw these characters a million times

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #I LOVE IT #laios dungeon meshi #senshi #marcille dungeon meshi #chilchuck

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laureliciousdefinition · 2 years

Text

Tease | Joel Miller X Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things… but mostly a tease.

Rating: 18++++!!!! Minors skedaddle

Tags/warnings: smut (fingering/piv), language, genitalia descriptions, joel is a fiend

A/N: she’s back baby! Sorry it took me so long to write something, work has been kicking my ass but it’s fine!! How can I be stressed when there’s sexy Joel content to create?!?!?! Enjoy!

Crossposted on ao3 <3

There were many ways to describe Joel Miller. Rugged, stubborn, standoffish… to an outsider. There weren’t many people who knew him any other way- he never saw much of a point in letting them. Not in this new world. But for that small selection of people who he did let in, whether he chose to or not, it wasn’t as simple to put him in those boxes. He could be kind, gentle, generous, and even when no one expected it, he could be incredibly funny. There was nothing quite like getting both of the Miller brothers together after a long day with a few beers in their system. He was much more faceted than people in Jackson tended to give him credit for, since they only ever seemed to see tough-guy-on-patrol-Joel.

As for you? You were a part of an even smaller group- in fact, you were the only member of it. You knew that Joel could be all of these things and more, but there was a certain characteristic that he reserved just for you.

Joel Miller was a tease.

You’d first realized it when you had invited him over for dinner about a month into your relationship. You were standing at the stove, stirring a pot of stew and humming quietly to yourself, when he moved up behind you and snaked his arms around your waist. He rested his head on your shoulder and for a moment, you bit back your smile and felt your heart swell at his tenderness and vulnerability- but those feelings quickly changed to something decidedly less wholesome when he began pressing warm, wet kisses up and down your neck. He’d taken to gently nipping at the sensitive skin then soothing it with a slow stroke of his tongue, just enough to surely leave a small mark that you’d have to cover before your patrol shift in the morning. It made your cheeks heat and your knees weak; you were ready to abandon the stew all together, turning around to loop your arms behind his neck and slip your tongue in his mouth, but he only indulged you momentarily before pulling back with a pat to your bottom and a smile. “Smells great, I’m excited to try it,” he’d said with a grin. You were left absolutely flustered, struggling to find your words after he’d made you melt from simple kisses to the neck. Of course, he knew what he’d done- you could see it on his face as he settled back into one of the faded chairs in the living room and patiently waited for dinner.

If that had been a one-off, just a brief moment of Joel feeling like riling you up, you would’ve been fine. But as you progressed more into the relationship, you realized that it was something he always enjoyed doing to you. He loved to take his sweet time kissing you on the couch, slowly moving his hand down from a gentle caress of your cheek to a comforting rub on your arm, until he eventually landed with his thumb nestled just above where you wanted it most. You’d shift your hips up to meet his hand, but he would simply chuckle to himself and tell you to be patient.

He was also a fan of catching you alone somewhere around town as you both went about your duties for the day and telling you all the filthy things he wanted to do to you that evening. He’d send you away blushing hard. One time hard enough that someone asked why you were so flushed even though it wasn’t that cold outside.

Of course he would always eventually stop teasing and give you what you needed, but he always made sure to draw it out until you were practically begging. It was a game you couldn’t decide if you hated or never wanted to stop playing.

Tonight was no exception to his antics; it was Thursday night, which meant you, Joel, Tommy, and Maria all gathered for a drink or two at the bar that was finally up and running in town. It was the only night all four of you weren’t swept up in your various jobs and tasks around town, so sometimes after a particularly trying week, those two drinks would turn into something closer to four or five- just enough to get you relaxed and off your guard. Of course, Joel being the way he is, was the picture of sobriety despite drinking even more than you had. You’d shifted down in your seat a bit to slouch and rest your head against his strong arm, your legs crossed towards him, and he absentmindedly began stroking the lower half of your thigh and upper knee. It started innocently, but with him, it didn’t stay that way for long.

He began running his hand up higher slowly, starting with reaching the middle area, then eventually broadening his strokes until he reached the top part of your crossed leg. You hadn’t been paying attention to it, engrossed in Tommy’s animated retelling of something funny one of the night patrol members had done earlier in the week. It wasn’t until you felt his hand stop moving, placed with a solid grip at the highest point of your leg, that you started paying attention to him.

“So of course, Michael had to get out there and get it all unstuck, but then-“ you heard Tommy, but were struggling to keep your ears trained on him when Joel’s hand was slowly wedging under your crossed thigh.

When he finally settled his hand, his pinky had the vantage point, and he slowly began pressing the seam of your jeans into your core. When you unconsciously shifted in the old leather seats, it only amplified the sensation, and you could already feel your heart rate picking up. You couldn’t seem to get comfortable now, too honed in on his touch, even through the thick denim. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he could get you going- there was just something about Joel that skyrocketed your horniness. You liked the blame it on the years traveling alone, no real sexual contact outside of your own hand.

His movements went on for what seemed like an eternity, though it was more likely just a few minutes. Tommy interrupted the end of his story with a yawn and you perked up, knowing you were probably about to leave the bar and practically sprint back to Joel’s.

When the conversation finally wrapped up and the two couples had gone their separate ways, you linked your fingers with his and all but dragged him down the quiet streets of the town.

“Slow down there, darlin’,” he laughed, half-jogging to keep up with your pace.

When you finally stepped up onto his wooden porch, you stopped to face him. He was impossibly handsome, a fact you loved to re-learn every single day. He sported a charming, lop-sided grin looking down at you, eyes crinkling at the sides. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into the back of his hair and pull him to you, slotting your lips together. Despite your building impatience that had sparked in the bar, it was still a passionate kiss, one that made you feel like a puddle of a human. He gently held your head with his strong hands, and when he pulled back from the kiss they remained there while he looked at you.

“Wanna move this inside?”

You sighed with a smile. “Yes please.”

Once he’d closed and locked the doors, your previous frustrations seemed to remember they existed, and you found yourself pushing him against the door and kissing him with much more fire than before. You could feel him laugh through the kiss, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care- not when his tongue moved with yours so perfectly. The exploration of each other’s mouths continued as he moved you away from the door, only breaking for you to catch some air.

“What’s gotcha all riled up?” He asked inconspicuously, leaning back against the door and crossing his arms. “Not that I’m complainin’, of course.”

You furrowed your brows but kept your smile. “I think you know exactly what’s got me ‘all riled up’, Mr. Miller.”

He couldn’t help but grin back at you. “Nope, no clue.”

With an eye roll, you pulled him back to you once again and returned your mouth to his. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he walked you over to one of the couches in the open living area. Your knees hit the seat of the couch first, pulling him down to situate next to you. After a few moments like this he drew away again and you let out a frustrated whimper, but he held out a hand to you.

“Just a second, don’t wanna give the neighbors a show.” He explained, untying and closing the curtains that had previously been pulled back during the daytime. You hadn’t even noticed, mind much too occupied.

This time when he returned, he stopped in front of you, sinking to the floor and placing his arms on your knees. He placed a gentle kiss to your clothed inner thigh, then rested his chin on the top.

“You are beautiful, darlin’. I ever told you that?”

Though you were already flushed from all the kissing, a new heat came to your cheeks at his compliment. “You have, but you could always say it again,” you responded cheekily.

He hummed in response, pressing his lips where his chin had just been. “You’re beautiful.” He mumbled, then switched to your other thigh and repeated the words. He pulled your hand down to his face, kissed your palm and repeated it again, then did the same with your wrists.

“You’re beautiful,” he finished with a kiss to your belly. You smiled down at him, genuinely appreciating the silly gesture, but that fire from before was still idling low within you.

“Come up here again, I miss you.” You playfully told him, thinly veiling your desperation for his touch.

With a grunt and a crack of the knees, he stood, returning to his place on the couch. He slotted himself between you so your back was against the arm, and he had leverage over you. When his mouth finally returned to yours a warmth spread throughout your entire body. After moving his lips against yours he shifted them to your jawline, leaving an open-mouthed kiss on it and drawing out a sharp breath from you. Proud of himself, he repeated the action again at the space between your neck and ear, causing you to grip the back of his soft flannel.

Joel eventually moved to undo the top button of your shirt, allowing him access to your collarbone, which he suckled on gently. Your chest was nearly heaving at this point, a sharp heat between your thighs just from his attention. With his free hand, you felt him slip it between your two bodies and begin undoing your belt buckle. As best as you could against the couch you pulled your hips back to make it easier for him. He got the buckle undone and as you felt him pull the zipper of the jeans down you unconsciously pressed your thighs together in anticipation. This didn’t go unnoticed by the man- you saw a smirk come to his face. He continued his actions, but at an obviously slower pace, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. When he finally reached your pants button, he stopped and looked up at you.

You probably looked a mess; a blush that spread across your cheeks to your ears, buttons undone, hair getting messy from rubbing against the couch. Yet he looked at you with such an overwhelming sense of devotion that it made you cut your eyes away from him, unable to bear it.

“Look at me, baby.” You heard him say, voice low. When met his eyes again, he gave you a smile that didn’t contain the same mischievous nature as the one from a moment ago, but one with a genuine and adoring nature.

His eyes broke from yours to return to your pants button that he was finally undoing. You lifted your hips up slightly to let him tug the jeans down as best as he could with only one hand available, the other bracing himself by your head. Once they had been shimmied down enough, you were left in your cotton panties, hoping he couldn’t see that they were already soaked through. Humming again to himself, he slowly moved his middle finger down from your clothed clit to your entrance- okay, he definitely knew now. You could tell by the way he lingered over the damp spot for a moment.

“All this for me?” he tilted his head at you, running gentle circles over the area.

“Answer me, sweet girl.”

You didn’t realize you hadn’t answered. Your breath had been caught in your throat, core practically throbbing knowing that his hands were so close. When you finally answered, your voice was rough.

“Of course it is,” you breathed out.

His eyes locked on yours, nearly black with lust. “That’s what I like to hear.”

He slid the underwear aside as best as he could, stroking his finger along the now free skin. With little effort, he collected some of your wetness and pulled the finger back up to his mouth, sucking it clean and making you clench around nothing. Your eyes were fighting to squeeze shut but you knew if you took them off of Joel he’d remind you that you were supposed to have eyes on him for this. He loved watching you squirm under his ministrations.

He brought his middle finger back down and stopped it at your entrance, as if he was deciding whether or not to insert it. Clearly toying with you, he only moved the digit when he heard a frustrated sigh escape your lips.

His thick, calloused finger sliding into your pussy was probably the best thing you’d experienced that week. You knew he was only getting started but you’d gotten so worked up; a small moan left your chest at the feeling. He worked it slowly, just in and out, in and out. When he finally curled the finger inside of you, you couldn’t help but whisper a sharp, “fuck.” Sliding the finger away momentarily, he returned this time with his ring finger also inserted. You were burning up from his touches- one hand gripping the back of the couch and the other clawing at his shirt. You could already feel heat spreading through your hips and you willed your body to calm down. You were not about to cum getting fingered on the couch like a damn teenager.

But then he angled his thumb up to brush back and forth on your clit, and you felt it coming. You were panting, hips rocking against his fingers, almost there, almost there-

And he stopped.

You could’ve cried on the spot. The impending release fizzled out, nerves now frayed and sparking. Joel knew this, of course, and he leaned down to press a sweet kiss to you. You grumpily returned it, earning a chuckle from the man.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He brushed the hair that had fallen from your clip away from your eyes.

You shot him daggers. He placed another kiss to your cheek before standing up. He made quick work of his own clothing, momentarily stripping down to just his boxers, tenting slightly from his clear erection. When he finally took them off, his cock sprung free, long and thick and proud. He obviously got off on torturing you.

You busied yourself awkwardly pulling off your own clothes, reaching down to kick your jeans the rest of the way down your legs, along with the now stretched and soaked panties. You scooted so you were sitting up a bit more, and he returned to his place between your legs. Frustrated, you grabbed hold of his hard length, lining him up at your dripping entrance.

“Fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Yes ma’am,” he answered happily, taking over for you and pushing in.

To your relief he wasted no time getting things moving. He let out a soft grunt as he began steadily fucking you, arms holding your back gently in contrast. You tried your best to contain your own moans and cries, but god he felt so good. When you’d first met Joel, both of you considerably more closed off at the time, you’d selfishly allowed yourself to fantasize that night about how he would fuck. It wasn’t as if you’d ever actually do it, right? You imagined he would be rough, hard, and fast. Probably the kind of guy who didn’t care about his partner finishing, just about his own pleasure. And while yes, he could be those things if you asked him to, Joel was the farthest thing from a selfish lover, outside of his brutal teasing. He was actually much more partial to long, steady strokes that built your orgasm at a slower pace.

You bent your neck to bury your head into his shoulders, unable to contain a moan but trying your best to muffle it.

“Feels good, baby?” He asked you breathily, cock dragging against your most sensitive spot deliciously.

“Mmm-hmm.” You mumbled into his skin, a slight sheen of sweat forming on it.

You sent another moan into his neck and grasped his biceps tightly. That orgasm from earlier was starting to creep back down your spine and you prayed to any god that was listening that Joel would be nice and let you cum this time.

His pace was starting to pick up. One of his hands slid down to cup one of your asscheeks, grip almost bruising but in the best way. “You wanna cum now?” His voice warbled slightly with his thrusting.

“Please,” you pleaded. “Please Joel,”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Love hearin’ you beg for it.”

Were you crying or sweating? It didn’t matter- you felt impossibly good and so, very close. You’d tell Joel anything he wanted to hear at this rate just to get relief from the pleasure burning a hole in you.

“I need it so fucking bad,” your quiet voice cracked, head now thrown back.

He licked a stripe from the hollow of your neck up to your chin, savoring the salty taste of you. “You need it, pretty girl?” He rasped, keeping his steady-but-deadly pace.

You nodded fervently, squeezing his biceps tighter. Eyes glued shut, you almost missed him leaning up to your ear.

“Do it. I gotcha baby, just cum for me.”

That was it. You drenched his cock, walls pulsing tightly around him until he quickly followed you. He finished deep inside of you but you barely noticed, too blissed out in your post-orgasm state. Still inside you, you both fell back against the couch, sweaty bodies sticking together, not that either of you minded. You quietly stroked his hair as he rested against you, pressing soft kisses to your chest and shoulders. When he was like this, so soft and gentle, you thanked all your lucky stars that you lived to see these moments.

Maybe Joel Miller was a tease- but you could never really be mad at him for it.

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