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usedtobecooler · 1 year

Text

hands on you | steve harrington x fem!reader

Pairing | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content 18+ minors dni, unprotected piv sex, vaginal fingering, mutual masturbation, size kink, dirty talk. big dick harrington making his return.

Word Count | 2.3k

A/N | nobody say a damn word. not a damn word. dedicated to @loveshotzz <3

“That… Jesus, Steve,” You’re looking at him — or moreso, it — with a morbid curiosity and wide eyes.

His cock hangs heavy over his tummy, weighed down by its own sheer size, flushed a needy dark pink at the tip and curved ever so slightly to the right, “Babe, how has any girl ever taken that?”

And it’s really a genuine, valid question to ask. He’s so big it makes your mouth water and your pussy clench, though it niggles in the back of your head that he’s guaranteed to be such a stretch. Your hand lays on his thigh, caressing the tan, toned flesh under your biting nails, and you choose to ignore the way he’s hissing from such a simple touch.

“Nobody has, honey,” Steve answers honestly, looking down with blown out eyes as your hand inches closer, backs of your knuckles brushing over his heavy sack, “I mean, I've — I've obviously had sex before, that’s a given. Just that I've had to stop halfway, ‘cause it hurts them.”

“Fuck,” You mutter to yourself, ghosting your fingertips up the length of his shaft until it’s kicking up under your touch, a blurt of precum spilling from his slit, pooling into the dip of his bellybutton, “You’re real sensitive.”

Your voice is breathy, strangled in your throat and Steve whimpers, hips canting up when you wrap your hand loosely around the tip, thumb smearing through the mess he’s making. Your touch is gone as fast as it’s there, pressing your thumb into your mouth like it’s nothing — he tastes nice, almost. Like he clearly drinks water, which is more than you could say for most men.

“Please, honey,” Steve begs, watching you with lust blown eyes as you smack your lips together, savouring him in your mouth, “Y’gonna let me fuck you? I'll be so gentle, promise.”

You think it over — you don’t want him to be gentle. You want him to pin you down and make you take it, fill you up until he’s nestled in your fucking guts and spilling his load so deep you can almost taste it in the back of your throat. But you’re not stupid, you’re clearly not ready for that. Not yet.

He’s disheveled looking as he leans back on his mountain of pillows, lazily sat with you between his spread thighs. He lost all of his clothes long ago, and you’re only sitting in your underwear, the state you’re both in is a clear expectation that you were anticipating sitting on his cock and riding him til the cows came home.

“Gentle or not, Harrington,” You start, maneuvering yourself so you can tuck your legs under his thighs, spreading yourself wide and showing off the obvious wet patch on your silky underwear, “M’gonna need to prepare for taking that monster.”

Steve's not even looking at you, fully focused on the way you’re sliding your panties to the side and exposing your needy cunt to the warm air in his room — you’re soaked, folds glistening under the light as you spread them with your fingers.

He makes a noise, large hand coming out to grip at the base of his cock and squeeze, relieving an ache — he’s barely covering half of his length, your gut churns at that knowledge —, “‘M I not gonna get to touch you at least?” He asks, jerking himself slowly as he watches you in an almost trance-like state, the tips of your middle and ring fingers dipping into your slick entrance and breaching.

It’s not that you don’t want him to touch you, of course you fucking do. but watching him touch himself over you touching yourself is making your tummy quiver, “Patience, baby.”

“Fuck, okay,” Steve’s lazy with it, jerking his cock at a slow pace as you finally sink your fingers into yourself, a quiet moan pulling from your chest as you do it. You can’t stop watching him touching himself, clearly going slow with it so that he doesn’t blow his load before he gets to fuck you.

You’re so close together that the back of your wrist is brushing Steve's heavy balls with every slick glide of your fingers in and out of your gushing pussy, and it’s eliciting the prettiest noises from him. a flush of heat washes over you, tummy muscles clenching when the pad of your middle finger just barely catches on that sweet sensitive spot inside.

“Feel good?” Steve's voice is breathy, almost desperate as his eyes finally flitter up to yours, ripped away from the sight of your cunt pulsing and gushing around your fingers. He's squeezing the base of his cock again, in a desperate attempt to stop working himself up too quickly.

“It —,” You start, gasping when Steve adjusts his leg on top of yours and you’re suddenly hyper aware of his skin on yours, “My fingers are just a little short.”

You don’t even need to ask, Steve's up on his knees and pushing into your space before you can even comprehend it. His cock merely brushes the inside of your thigh and you both moan, the head catching on your flushed skin and smearing wet in its wake.

“Let me?” Steve's voice is barely above a whisper, hand coming up to brush his unruly hair out of his face. It’s hotter than you’d care to admit to, with his pretty pink lips hung open, watching you intently as you slip your fingers out of yourself fully, the sickening squelch making you both shudder.

You lean back on both hands, Steve's hovering so close over the top of you that his breath is hitting your face, fingers grazing up the inside of your thigh until he’s hitting your hot, wet folds. Two fingers swirl just barely over your clit, enough to punch a moan out of you, fingertips grappling on his comforter, before he’s sinking the same two fingers into your cunt, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp, steve’s expert fingers crooking up into that spot you couldn’t quite catch and past it, rubbing at the spongyness until your hips are canting up. The leaky tip of his cock presses into the meat of your leg, a reminder it’s there, and it only makes you moan louder, hips rocking into Steve's hand.

“You’re so tight around my fingers, fuck,” Steve comments, watching between both of your bodies as your pussy swallows his fingers, clenching and fluttering on them — the slick slide is deafening in your ears, winding you up further.

His thumb swipes at your clit and it makes your eyes roll, the assault on your g-spot becoming almost too much, the heat in your tummy blooming quickly.

“You gonna cum for me?” Steve's grinning, leaning his forehead on yours, fingers speeding up ever so slightly, pads running in circles until you’re panting and crying out, “Can feel you gripping me, honey. C’mon, let me feel you cum.”

Your eyes squeeze tight as the blooming heat bursts into flames, a cry of his name leaving your lips as euphoria spreads through your entire body. You feel your cunt pulsing sporadically around Steve’s fingers, gushing wet and soaking the sheets as he fucks you through it, fingers slowing down until they’re almost at a stop.

Suddenly, the overwhelming desire to have Steve fill you up with his cock is clouding your brain, blurring your eyes at the edges. You can feel him, hot and heavy, brushing so close to your cunt it’s dizzying, “Need you to fuck me, steve. please?”

Steve's brows pull together, he’d clearly forgotten about his own needs and desires in favor of yours and that only makes you want him all the more, “You sure, honey? You’re gonna be so sensitive, can you handle me?”

His words shouldn’t affect you the way they do, but you moan, all high pitched and needy, “C’mon, Steve. Fuck me like you mean it.”

And who would Steve be to refuse you that? He gently nudges you down onto your back until you’re laid flat, pulling your shaking legs up until your knees are bent up.

You can feel the head of his cock snagging ever so slightly on your puffy cunt, still sopping wet and no doubt drenching him in your release. Your tummy quivers in anticipation.

He sighs, shaky, as he grips at the base of his cock blindly, unable to take his eyes off of yours, like he’s searching for a definite answer. You nod, another go ahead, and his cock properly presses at your entrance, knocking the breath from your lungs.

He’s. Well, he’s fucking big. The first few inches slip into you and punch a ragged moan from you, eyes squeezing shut as you beg your body to relax for him.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s voice catches you off guard, his other hand grabbing for yours and lacing your fingers together at the side of your head, “If it doesn’t feel good, tell me to stop.”

“Don’t fucking stop,” You gasp, squeezing his hand. It’s not a bad burn, it feels fucking good. Teeters on the edge of too much, but the right edge.

“Oh thank god,” Steve chuckles a little, pushing in another inch and your pussy clenches instinctively, choking his cock, “Honey, I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to.”

You giggle, the movement causing your cunt to flutter around him and he moans properly this time, rutting into you another inch or two, filling you out.

Steve’s hand that was on his cock suddenly grips at your hip, as he bottoms out with a low growl, you feel it rumble up his chest, “You’re so — so fucking tight, warm,” Steve grits his teeth, pushing his hips forward to make it obvious that he’s fully sheathed in you, his heavy balls pressing tight to your ass.

You feel. Full. Ridiculously full. He’s hitting everywhere inside of you, the curve of his cock pressing into all the right spots, thatch of dark pubes brushing against your sensitive clit.

His hand laced with yours grounds you, helps you relax and settle into it quickly, his chest flush to yours and pressing you down helps, too.

Your eyelids flutter when he ruts into you again, reminding you of the size of him, “Move, Steve, need you to fuck me, yeah?”

Steve grunts, pulling out just a few inches and pushing back in, eyes rolling as the wet heat of your cunt invites him back in, “Think your pussy likes me being here, honey.”

You cry out at that, pussy spasming. You’re at a loss for words, the only thing on your mind is how Steve invades all of your senses. He leans down, kisses at the expanse of your neck as he sets a good rhythm. You feel every ridge of him, pushing so deep you swear you feel him in your guts.

“Hear that?” He mutters against your flushed, damp skin as he fucks you properly now, knocking the breath from you with every harsh thrust, “She loves me, baby. Loves my big cock, fuck.”

Of course you can fucking hear it, the way your cunt is gushing, sloppy and soaking for him, more and more leaking around his shaft as he assaults your frontal wall. You whine, loud and beggy, fingernails digging into Steve’s hand where they’re still interlaced at the side of your head.

“Taking me so good, honey. Can’t believe you’re taking all of me,” Steve groans, pace quickening as he chases his high — you’re not far behind, the constant press to your spongey spot and the occasional catch of your clit against his pubic bone is getting you there fast.

It’s so fucking hot, the way he speaks to you. Your body is alight with need and want, “Keep talking, Steve. G’nna cum,” You breathe, leg tightening around the base of his back, heel of your foot pushing into his ass.

“Yeah?” Steve grins into your collarbone, you feel it against your flushed skin, “Cumming when you’re full on my big cock? Fuck, c’mon, show me how much she loves me. She’s so greedy, honey.”

Your cunt grips him like a vice, that same blooming feeling from earlier back with a vengeance as you reach the end — it’s so hard to think, with him pressing so deep and rough. You nod, whining and crying out, “Fuckfuckfuck, ohmygod —!”

Your vision blurs at the edges, knocked dizzy and sick with it when your orgasm washes over you like tidal waves, fingertips digging into the back of Steve’s hand until he’s hissing and groaning, fucking you through it with a harsh snap of his hips.

“That’s it, so fucking tight,” Steve grunts, picking up speed and rutting into you until you’re practically screaming, “Gonna cum in you, fill you up with it, oh fuck —”

His hips still suddenly as he pushes his face into your neck and cums with a low grunt of your name. You feel every bit of his release shooting deep inside you, every pulse of his cock. Your walls flutter around him and he hisses in retaliation, smacking your hip gently.

He collapses on top of you after that, entire body spent. You can’t find it in you to care, as his cock softens slowly — you feel his cum spilling out of you, though you’re half asleep and struggling to comprehend it.

Your attention only piques when you feel fingertips at your puffy, used entrance, pushing the liquid back into your weeping hole.

It’s disturbing how ready you are for Steve, when he fucks himself back into you not long after.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #mine #my work #my fanfic #x reader #this was meant to be a drabble but uh #i got carried away #as usual

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pearlywritings · 1 month

Text

A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly.

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge.

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?”

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan.

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it.

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem!reader #alhaitham #genshin impact fluff

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twstedstoryshop · 2 months

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FINALLY, I return properly. Kind of. Reason I've been away for so long was because of insane convention season and also had this bad boy in the works. This is one of two commissions done for a friend. Hope you all can enjoy yourselves for the crumbs I produce. -SK

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, violence, depressed s/o, and mentions of toxic past relationships.

Your New Boyfriends Runs Into Your Ex

While Rook Hunt was one of many to find camaraderie in a den of villains, that didn’t mean chivalry was dead to him. Certainly not him.

Under his keen gaze, he knew that when a certain topic was broached, you would shy away instantly. Paled knuckles, a panicked gaze, and your bottom lip near to splitting open by how badly you chewed down.

It was like he was seeing a rabbit or deer caught in a trap, frantic with no escape. Though his heart had been trained to a perfect steel and not feel for his quarry, when he sees that look in your eyes, all defenses fall away.

The topic? Well, the worries of what the future held for you. Moreso in far off days. Would you continue to have your friends by your side? Would someone ever cherish you? Have a deeper connection?

For Rook, it was a no-brainer because of course! Who else was more worthy of adoration and praise than his dear petite grâce? As he would declare this in all his usual grandeur, a small smile would form on your lips, but that happiness never reached your eyes.

Doubt clouded that sweet gaze of yours. In its own way, seeing such clear eyes be veiled by sadness was heartachingly beautiful. Yet it was a beautiful scene Rook couldn’t bear to behold for too long.

When it came to keeping track of you, Rook was extra considerate. If one can call it that… In his mind, he kept careful track of those you interacted with. He watched your mannerisms, your dialogue, anything amiss he would file it away. But for the longest time, it didn’t seem like an outside force was troubling you.

For a moment, Rook considered that whatever wounded your heart was a scar from a distant past he had yet to uncover. What he didn’t expect was said wound abruptly appearing on a normal day.

From a vantage point, perhaps from a second story window or among the trees that dotted the campus, Rook had caught sight of you stone-still on your walk. Before you, an NRC student he couldn’t recall. He didn’t really have time to register the man when Rook had just attention all on you.

Your wide, hollow eyes. Your chest rising and falling rapidly. How you froze so perfectly under the gaze of this man. It was a scene Rook was all too familiar with. Prey terrified beyond its own mind to run, to hide, or even fight.

Your rational mind couldn’t comprehend what your ex was even saying to you as panic held you in its overbearing clutch. The world grew dizzying and just when you felt like your heart would give out, right then and there, a broad arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Ah, there you are, ma petite grâce. I was looking all over for you. You made me a bit worried, you know!”

It was hard to look up at him as Rook’s hat was tipped just enough for the shadows to mask his features. But your ex needed only one glance for the role of prey to be forced on him. Green eyes with a gaze so sharp, so precise like a notched arrow perfectly aligned to fire, bored right into him.

It didn’t take much time before the ex backpedaled away with his tail between his legs, now only leaving you with Rook.

Rook would face you, gripping your forearms firmly. His expression, soft though. He called out for you, trying his best to snap you from your daze. When you finally realized it was him now before you, your body moved on its own before you could think. A heaviness made you fall against his chest. You shivered, maybe tears and sobs escaping you.

Rook held you so close against him. Like he was cradling a sculpture of the most delicate porcelain. As if one scratch or knock would crumble you into fine dust.

A single hand held the back of your head protectively, letting you weep as much as you wanted against his shirt. His chin nestled along your hair. You would be so blissfully unaware of Rook’s gaze. A complicated stare into space as his mind swam with many thoughts.

Rook always found beauty in the oddest of places. Yet for the first time, there was something Rook found utterly detestable. A vile image that was a blot in his picturesque vision and that was your ex, the source of your pain. But from that ugliness, he did find a most exquisite sensation. A drive to hunt. An unyielding need to protect you.

While he couldn’t spring into action earlier, his quarry was marked. A hunter is patient and he can wait as long as he needs to for one slip-up, one more attempt to dare get near you, and Rook would be sure to let loose a vicious arrow.

There is a tension between you and Floyd on certain days. While most times, it would be all fun and games, just him and his little Shrimpy. But Floyd wasn’t blind to the weight you carried.

It would irritate him on a dime when you obviously had thoughts clouding your mind. So much so that you fidget anxiously or not even pay attention to him. His sharp voice would call over the din of thoughts and you’d see the eel practically inches away from your face.

His dual colored eyes glared at you and a slight frown pulled at his lips. “Geez, what the hell is goin’ on with you!?” He doesn’t mean to be so crass, but to see his Shrimpy unsettled, it frustrated him.

Moreso that he can’t exactly pinpoint what was going on with you, that he can’t just squeeze it to a pulp and boom, no more problems!

He knew you had your walls and such walls took time to lower to let him in. Floyd had the patience as a waiting moray eel, but if he had the proactiveness to actually act upon his patience? That’s a whole other story. When it came to you, he just wanted to see you happy and unbothered. All reasoning would flutter out the window.

It may or may not have taken a lot of squeezing and thinly veiled threats to your friends for them to fess up information you couldn’t bear to unload on Floyd. A common name would be passed around, an ex from your past. Just the thought that someone else had their hands on you nearly made Floyd break bones if not for the pitiful yelps of your friends to release them in time.

Questions whirled in that skull of his. Why have you never brought this up to him? What did this ex do to you that made you shy away from him? Where was this scumbag now? All of these worries would bleed into his daily life and if it weren’t for Jade and Azul to straighten him out, he would have been throwing tantrums left and right.

It wasn’t until one day that all his frustrations would come to a boiling point into a final, satisfying crescendo. At least for him.

Work was to be done at Mostro Lounge. Floyd was on duty to be a waiter along with yourself. Both of you have opted to be in an awkward silence in your relationship and it was evident by how you both avoided one another, unsure of how to really talk about your issues.

Floyd had taken an order from a particular student, one he could easily sniff out as a rude bastard by his mannerisms and his tones. But if Floyd’s temper got the better of him, he’d never hear the end of it from Azul. He would hand off the order to you to at least serve drinks.

Everything seemed normal until suddenly a glass shattered. All eyes shifted to you who shivered in place. The tray rattled in your hands and below you a cascade of broken glass.

“Y-you…” “The fuck…? What the hell are you doing here!? And look at what you did to my drink! You’re still incompetent as ever, tch!”

You wanted to cry, scream, run away. You felt so ashamed, being treated like garbage again from an ex you swore you’d never let walk all over you again. But at the height of stress, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for yourself. Pathetic, absolutely pathetic…

That is until a sing-song, nonchalant voice slid right up behind you. “Ahhhh, what a shame. I apologize on the behalf of our lil waiter here. They’re just nervous is all. Here~ Why don’t I make it up to ya? I can serve ya a drink right here, right now. On the house~” “Finally, some decent fucking service…”

You looked up at Floyd and saw that dangerous glint in his eyes. How his pupils honed on the poor fool as his smile widened so tightly across his face. He reached for a spare glass that was left on the table, presented it with a flourish to your ex, and coyly said, “Readyyyy~? Watch carefully.”

Then, his hand flew so quick to grab a clump of your ex’s hair and slammed it squarely on the glass. The crunch of glass, your scream, and the screech of chairs being pushed back as patrons jumped.

“GYAHAHA, YOU LIKE IT!? IT’S MOSTRO LOUNGE’S OWN PERSONAL RED. Ahhhh, but the red comin’ from you? Pfft, it ain’t worth the shit under my shoe…” Your ex could barely register what was even being said to him from the glass embedded in his face and blood gushing from his nose and broken lips.

Hands covered your mouth in terror as you could barely register what was happening. From panicked students screaming to Azul and Jade holding Floyd back from beating the poor ex to a pulp. All you could really register was the horrifying satisfaction deep in your chest, seeing the one who hurt you so much battered under the hand of someone who protected you…

Leona has his own ways of caring but most of the time, if you cannot read between the lines, it may come off as uncaring.

He does care, but don’t expect a coddling man rushing to be your knight when you are feeling sorry for yourself. The last thing he wants to do is pity you as he knows all too well the humiliation of being pitied.

Instead he observes, he watches, he’s keen to everything you do that isn’t a part of your daily life. In sly ways, he tries to break your moments of dissociating. He calls your name sharply to snap you out of your funk and gives you a menial task.

Telling you to maybe preen his mane, join Ruggie on an errand, what have you. It’s better to keep yourself occupied than whatever is plaguing your mindscape.

Sometimes, he will even abruptly lean against you, his weight toppling the both of you over. Even if you protest under him, he will insist he’s really tired and just wants something warm beside him to help him sleep. In truth, it’s just another way to stop your self-deprecating thoughts.

Though he will speak up in annoyance if your depressed thoughts start to bleed into your relationship. It will sting, but he means well. He tells you gruffly that he’s not in the mood to lay next to baggage. He wants only his partner, dammit.

You may argue, you may not, it depends on how you react but at the end of it, one way or another, you’re going to have to face him and this problem that hangs over you.

If you take time before approaching him or spill everything in one go, he will wait patiently and listen. But cowardice by running away he won’t accept and would want answers promptly.

One way or another, the truth has to come from you and you explain the thoughts that coil around you like a petulant serpent. A name and face that digs into your chest horribly. Your ex and the ways he has hurt you in many ways.

Leona listens stoically, letting you share your story before acknowledging and commending the strength it took for you to finally admit this. He knows all too well the pains of the past, he shares in your frustrations. But the past stays in the past for a reason.

Now it’s you and him now. You define yourselves here in the present. If anyone says otherwise? Well, he’d like to see them try.

Who would have known that such a time would come so soon when one day, someone had the gall to start harassing you right in the Savanaclaw dorm.

That same face that always lingered around you like a ghost was here right now in the flesh, taunting you at the edges of the Spelldrive field. Your ex sneered at you, wondering what the hell you were doing around here during his practice hours. Had the nerve to accuse you of stalking him despite your split.

Your anger boiled your blood, your face flushed. Your nerves alighted with a burning fury that made the dorm’s dry heat pale in comparison. But your body did not respond to you. Your throat froze despite wanting to curse and yell out at your ex.

What neither you expected though while your mouth gasped for something, anything to throw at this scumbag, was a lion’s roar peeling across the field. A shadow loomed over your ex and both of you looked up to a silhouette blocking the sun and a pair of piercing green eyes.

Astride his broom, Leona stared squarely at the ex. “For a minute, I thought I heard annoying squawks from a mangy vulture, but now I just see a whelp. Having the nerve to approach my partner…”

Without missing a beat, Leona lowered himself to the ground and sauntered right over to your ex. Your ex tried to stand his ground but anyone could tell he was practically shaking in his spot.

“So.... What were you two talking about?” It was such a simple question. So trivial. But the way Leona spoke each word, it was like a pair of hungry jaws were ready to snap behind every syllable. He dared for your ex to slip up.

“N-nothing… Nothing at all… I was l-leaving…” “Hooo?” Leona’s tail whipped behind him in amusement. “So you just waltzed up to my partner and gawked at them? Nothing left your useless, flapping gums? I can hardly believe that.”

Leona’s knuckles cracked as he flexed his hand and for a quick second, you swore you saw wind and dust particles gather between his finger tips. The air felt still and you heard your ex gulp audibly from a dry throat. Then, a sudden calmness.

“But if you were just about to leave, then by all means, scurry along. I hate people wasting my time.”

To which your ex immediately did, turning on his heel, so close to make a run for it. Then, like a giant paw slamming atop a helpless mouse, Leona’s hand roughly grabbed his shoulder and stopped him.

“A warning since I’m feeling so generous today… Don’t ever let me catch you near them again. Ya hear me? Or else, I’ll make you a nice addition to the scenery. We could always add more sand and bones.” Leona cracked a toothy smirk with darkness in his eyes. His fangs glinted in the sun and it was then you truly realized the fierce lion you had taken in as your boyfriend.

#scrawlingquill #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #rook hunt x reader #floyd leech x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #twisted wonderland y/n #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst headcanons #twsited wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst reader insert #twisted wonderland reader insert #long post #long reads

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dollwrites · 6 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dub con, virginity loss, suggested sex work / trafficking, pantalone is kind of rough, fingering, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day nineteen [ pantalone + experience / power dynamic ]

“L-like this?”

you shuddered at the position you found yourself in. not simply because the air in Snezhnaya was chilled. not simply because you were stark naked in a darkened room, lain upon silk and fur bedding you that held no familiar scent, but because you were afraid of the man standing at the foot of the bed. afraid of what he might do once you laid on your stomach like he’d asked. though his voice was softer than most men in Snezhnaya, he sounded all the more wicked because of it. like a devil with a sugar-coated tongue.

“Oh, dear…” he purrs from behind you, but when you feel a warm brush of gloved digits along the small of your back, you flinch. you’re grateful that he can’t see the way you hide, burying your face in the fur beneath you. “Not quite. How am I going to fuck you if you’re flat like this?” a low and daunting chuckle bubbles up from the depths of his chest. “Here, allow me to help you.”

you hadn’t been expecting what happened next.

his hand dipped between your thighs, middle two fingers worming their way into your virgin entrance without warning. you elicit a soft whine of uncertain protest. sliding deep enough to anchor them against your spasming wall, his palm pressed flush against your core, Pantalone pulls your lower half off the bed. you cry out, and bite against the fur blanket, feeling his fingers pushing hard inside you as he positions you by the grip on your cunt alone.

“There we are. You look much prettier with your back arched, and your ass in the air, and even moreso with fingers in your pussy. My fingers” he murmurs, taking a few moments to tease your insides, his digits probe and rub your sensitive, spongy walls, as if gauging how good you feel. “You’re warm. As tight as I expected. Perhaps you are worth an investment, after all.”

“Gentle, please—“ you whine, your hands already grasping for the bedding underneath you, your voice muffled from the blanket between your teeth, and you look over your shoulder and up at him with a pleading gaze. his spectacles hang from their chain around his neck, as if he feared they would fog up from the playtime. but you see his eyes shape into crescents as he simpered wide.

“Do you think you have any say whatsoever in what I do with you, my dear?”

the question catches you off guard, your eyes widen at how direct it is, and you ponder it, dumbfounded.

“I— I—“

Pantalone takes note of the gears working in your head and he chuckles, pulling his fingers from your depths, he uses them to tease the elasticity of your entrance instead, spreading you open until you groan and squirm. a plea for him to stop never makes it past your lips, because he’s already swooning.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to come up with an answer, dear. It’s all right if you don’t know, I know how hard it must be for you to wrack your simple, little brain. I’ll generously enlighten you. You cost me quite a bit of mora to procure. That means I own you, dear. Now, be a good, little investment.” his voice drops to a low, threatening octave as his free hand presses down hard between your shoulder blades, forcing your upper half back against the fur. it tickles your face, and smells of clean, expensive cologne. “Comply for me, dear. Reach back here and spread those pretty lips, let’s see that eager, virgin hole.”

your face was on fire as he demands this of you, and you didn’t know if you could do such a humiliating act, but your arms move before you’ve fully decided, acting without your consent to reach around. trembling fingertips press against your own folds, spreading them with a soft whimper as the cool air tickles your most vulnerable region once it’s completely open and exposed.

you can no longer see him, and he’s moved away from your body, but you can hear the rustling of heavy furs and fabrics as he sheds his garments. you shudder again, realizing that in a moment he’ll be naked, and even though you’d never done this before, you knew what would follow.

“Very good, put your sweet cunt on display for me. Show me how tight you are, I want to compare this sight to how stretched you’ll be when I’m finished, drooling cum and twitching.”

“G-gentle, please…!” you murmur again, but this time it’s much softer and more hopeless, punctuated by a flustered, little squeak when two warm hands grasp your hips. he’s no longer wearing his gloves, and his willowy digits dig into your supple hips, nails scraping at the outer most layer.

“You make such a beautiful, pathetic parrot, my dear. Always repeating yourself, begging to be treated with care.” Pantalone chuckles and pulls you close, allowing the swollen tip of his dick to prod against your opening. you gasp, wanting to recoil. your fingertips twitch and yearn to push the intruder away, but you manage to stay still, though rather shaky. “But I don’t want you to be a parrot, my pet. Oh no, I want to make you a songbird.”

as he croons his intentions, he forces his cock against your delicate opening, tunneling into untapped innocence with a full thrust, and you cry out with tears in your eyes. your nails bite at your own skin as you try to grasp for something to relieve some of the sting of being stretched for the first time, but Pantalone only chuckles and leans over, dragging his broad chest against your shoulder, his lips against your cheek as he murmurs. “There you go, my naive little bird. I will make you sing louder and louder. Until your throat burns for me, and your body craves my cock above all else.”

#pantalone #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone smut #pantalone imagine #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact

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