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tojisun · 1 month

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!! nsfw; poly 141 ; sexting; fem reader

price gets a video, a measly six-second thing, from ghost.

he's used to getting all sorts of messages from his lieutenant, but a video has never been a part of them.

it was always soap who sends them videos upon videos—saved videos of things that make him lose his shit or links that are his new turn-ons. price even gets personal messages from the fella; sometimes it's his sergeant venting in lilted scottish, sent to price's personal number on a drunken whim, and sometimes they're videos of him pleading.

"sir, please... wanna cum."

kyle is still getting used to the dynamic. he's still a little shy, hesitant, although he seemed to be getting more bold in text. more pushy. descriptive.

then there's ghost. he is a whole different beast from the other two because instead of begging, instead of putting price above his own pleasure, he backs the captain into a corner, pushing him close to the edge with little taunts and teases.

price remembers the first time ghost has done it. he sent the captain a picture of a lacey panties hanging off of ghost's jean pockets, the rouge of the soft material drawing price's eyes to the distinct tent in his lieutenant's pants, leaving his throat dry. he remembers fisting his own cock at the image, mind running because of ghost's anecdote—

"you would like her."

john had never cum so fast when masturbating, and yet there he was, twitching on his office chair, chest heaving as ragged rasps of breaths passed through his clenched teeth.

"your girlfriend's got a good taste," price had messaged back.

"and me?" was what ghost replied with.

"you already know," price sent. then, "you always know how to make your captain proud."

that correspondence might have been what pushed ghost to keep sending more messages. more taunts. more teasing images that had price rubbing himself in any smidgen of a private corner he could find because simon was never one to disappoint.

so this video had set john's blood on fire, heat scorching from his spine and pooling towards his twitching cock. hairline fractures fill the sides of his phone's screen, leaving rainbow lines filing his eyes at every reflection of the light.

ghost had always liked to share you to him. price knew for a fact that simon had never sent pictures of you to the others—"need your permission first, sir."—but he also thought that simon had drawn the line there. that while he was eager to share snapshots of your pretty little lingeries or the way you marked up simon's tanned skin with deep punctures of what john knows must be straight teeth, simon was not going to indulge john any more.

and yet.

he feels his lungs burn. trembling fingers reach to play the video.

the sound of your squealed moans bouncing against the walls was what he registers first. ghost has you on your knees, and john traces the way simon's got a chokehold on the back of your neck. john watches as ghost uses it as a leverage, tugging you back to his cock—his pelvis is pressed flush against the fat of your ass, and price feels his gums throb with the need to sink his teeth into your flesh at seeing the ripples of your fat bunch up against the bulk of simon's muscles.

"si! si!" you sobbed, muffled as you have your head burrowed into the pillows. your hands are useless by your sides, limp and incapable of even fisting the sheets.

"s'right," simon's voice echoed from behind the screen. "show cap'n how you love moanin' my name."

simon's mention of john has him jolting, his breaths stuttering once again.

he thought this little thing they have was a secret. a dirty, little, desperate secret that only he and ghost had the privilege of knowing. the immorality of it had always pushed john to his orgasm faster than his every rub, and he thought that it would all change the moment you know.

but this is a better treat.

it's a feast.

because john sees it for what it is—a promise.

the video ends, reminding john how short it really was. but he is addicted, unable to let go now that he's been given a taste of what will be.

the next time he replays the video, he's got his erect cock in his hand.

he snaps a picture of his cum-filled palm and sends it to simon. he writes, "show her what she does to me."

it takes twenty-three seconds for simon's reply to come in. it isn't a message but a voicenote—"am i a good girl, cap'n?"

"yeah," john records himself say. "so, so good f'r us, doll."

—

sorta pt 02

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #john price x reader #john price smut #john price x simon riley #cod smut #suns #im so active today because i dont wanna do my shit ogmrwoipw

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harunayuuka2060 · 2 months

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Professor Trein: I've never seen your classmates- I mean, your students this behave.

MC: They just value their lives, professor.

Cerberus: Grrr...

MC: Oh. Is there anyone trying to cheat?

Random student: !!! *immediately rips off his cheat sheet*

MC and Professor Trein: ...

Professor Trein: Can I borrow Cerberus for my history class later?

MC: Sure thing, professor. But how about, Lucius?

Cerberus: Grrr...

MC: Aww~ Look at you, Cerberus! You're such a good boy! Be good to Professor Trein and his cat, hm? I'll play with you together with Lucifer after you finish your task. *pets him*

Cerberus: *wags his tail*

The students: *thinking* Curse Crowley...

Barbatos: Great work, MC. Here's your Hell Coffee.

MC: Thanks. *takes a sip* Ah.

MC: So bitter.

Barbatos: *chuckles* It's more bitter than before, isn't it?

MC: *smiles* Yes. *then their face saddens*

Barbatos: Is there something wrong?

MC: I just missed Luke and Simeon.

Barbatos: Hm. Then why not invite them here?

MC: ...

Barbatos: Don't tell me you have forgotten that you possess the power of the Ring of Light?

MC: ...

MC: *facepalm* Yes.

Barbatos: *chuckles* I figured. Now, don't sulk and enjoy your recess.

MC: Thank you, Barb.

MC: Vil... What are you doing here?

Vil: I've heard from your demon butler that you are turning yourself into an angel to gain access to this Celestial Realm.

MC: Yes?

Vil: I must see what you will look like, potato.

MC: ...

MC: Okay. I think it'll be fine if you're the only spectator- Lilia, what are you doing here too?

Lilia: Same reason. *while holding a camera*

MC: ...

MC: Whatever.

Solomon: *chuckles* You're famous even here, huh?

MC: More like infamous, but yeah. Anyway, Sol? Mind lending me a hand?

Solomon: No problem. *uses magic to change them*

Vil and Lilia: *in awe; also Lilia not forgetting to snap pictures*

MC: Okay! I'm ready to get my baby!

Solomon: And your other husbando.

MC: Right. *breathes in*

MC: I am the magician, MC…Ring of Light! Heed my words! Open the way forward and create a path where there was none!

MC: Unlock the Gates of the Celestial Realm!

Vil: Ugh... Everything is bright! I can't see a thing!

Lilia: Good thing I have my sunglasses.

Vil: *frowns*

*The light disappears after a few seconds and MC as well*

Solomon: Yup. I'm sure they are in the Celestial Realm right now.

MC: ...

Simeon: ...

MC: *ended up straddling him*

Simeon and MC: *both blushes in embarrassment*

MC: I am sorry!

Simeon: *chuckles* I thought for a second that I had committed a sin.

MC: Come on now. You're calling me a sin?

Simeon: *chuckles again* No. I mean, I have been thinking of you for a while.

MC: *smiles* Sorry for being gone. I got into some sort of... unexplainable event.

Simeon: Oh?

MC: By the way, is Luke here? I'm here to invite you and him to this new world I'm living in.

Simeon: Is it similar to Devildom?

MC: No. It's a bit similar to the human world, except with magicians.

Simeon: Oh. *smiles* We would love to be there.

MC: Great!

*Back to Twisted Wonderland*

Diavolo: Simeon! Luke! I'm so glad to see you again!

Simeon: *chuckles* We're glad to see you too, Diavolo.

Luke: Yeah!

Lucifer: I'm surprised you easily got permission, MC.

MC: What permission?

Lucifer: ...

Simeon: MC snatched Luke in front of Michael. *laughs*

Luke: *giggles* It was fun when the other angels started to chase us!

Lucifer: ...

Lucifer: MC, why you-

MC: It's my parental rights, Lucifer.

Lucifer: ...

Malleus: That is your son, child of man?

MC: Yes! Isn't he adorable?

Luke: *staring at Malleus and wondering if he's a demon*

Malleus: How old is he?

MC: Um. He's ten. Yes. He's ten years old.

Luke: *pouts* MC! I'm over a thousand years old!

Malleus: ...

Malleus: What? You are older than me? *squints his eyes*

MC: Mal, don't. *knows that he's judging his height*

#twisted wonderland #obey me mc #twst mc #obey me simeon #obey me luke #twst malleus #obey me lucifer #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me cerberus #twst trein #twst vil #twst lilia #twst x obey me

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cherubfae · 2 months

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Omg hi! I'm a new follower and I just read your piece of the hazbin cast w/ reader having a panic attack and it was so sweet 🥺If possible could you maybe do the same cast of characters but with what they would do if the reader was on their period/period comfort?

Awww, thank you! yes!! Of course!! ☺️💘✨

taking care of you on your period || hazbin x reader

With Alastor, Lucifer, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, and Vox

tags: fluff, comfort, afab gn!reader, I decided to go with ftm for angel in this to try it out (lmk what you think!!) :3, periods in Hell are worse than on Earth I feel like that fits, suggestiveness in luci's || Minors don't interact!

Alastor

"Oh, dear, why are you curled up on the floor in the fetal position? Are you hurt? I smell blood." Alastor coos in crackling static. He nods his head, listening to you explain despite you being facedown in said carpet. He'll procure a hot water bottle for your tummy, some aspirin, and some bitter, dark chocolate. He'll even go get one of those sugary iced coffees you love so much. Given the circumstances, Alastor may even allow you to touch his ears, but his mindful of his antlers if you know what's good for you.

Lucifer

Oh no, his poor sweetheart! The King of Hell goes full Mama Goose mode (you can see where Charlie gets it from) and hunts down whatever he thinks you may need. He'll create a little nest fort for you, spooning you from behind and nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. He's also not opposed of other ways of relief. In Lucifer's own wise words, "Bow-chick-a-wow-wow." (As long as you're up for it, he's not opposed to giving Charlie a sibling.)

Charlie

She's on it instantaneously! Running around scavaging all sorts of items from tampons to pads to candies-- she's not sure of your preferences, so she gets all of them! Only the best for her sweetie pie!! Huddles extraaaa close to you in your shared blanket cocoon, feeding you chocolates and giving you sweet nuzzles.

Vaggie

Immediately sends you off for a hot bath while she changes and washes the sheets so that they're nice, warm, and fresh. She also will prepare your favorite pajamas and snacks, digging through some films for one to watch. Vaggie will do what she can to make sure you're well-rested, hydrated, and most importantly; comfortable.

Husk

Immediately goes to the women of the hotel and asks about what sort of toiletries the hotel has to offer. He's discreet about your situation and grateful for their help. He wants you to feel better as soon as possible even if that means your symptoms haven't fully gone away yet! The scent of blood is strong on you and if he can notice you from a mile away, he's certain others have too. So, he creates a little nest for you two, the bar is closed down for the day, and cuddles you close to his chest.

Angel Dust

He'll spoon you from behind, resting his warm hand on your tummy. From what Cherri has told him, this shit's worse than when you guys were alive. Hell really does have a hard-on for torturing people. Angel will be as vigilant as he can, getting you whatever you may need, reassuring you gently that just because you have your period doesn't change who you are as a person nor how you idenitify. You're you, no matter what your body does or doesn't do.

Vox

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

What's that? Oh, shit, that's when you-- yeah? Oh, okay got it. That sounds like that sucks. Yeah, he doesn't mind grabbing some things for you but he's a bit stiff when it comes to comfort. He knows what it is for sure and he'll do his best. Velvette might tear him a new asshole. He does genuinely want you to feel better, he doesn't like seeing you in pain. He's just a little lost.

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #charlie morningstar x reader #vaggie x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #vox x reader #cherubfae 2024

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distantdarlings · 6 months

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TEETH TO BONE // t. nott

RATING: PG-13 / 1.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - You come to your best friend's dorm room after not being able to sleep. He makes a decision that changes your relationship forever. *Theo's POV* (Romance)

+ WARNINGS - Heavy kissing, a bit of petting, someone kisses w/o that person's permission

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

Touch - Troye Sivan

---

The sheets in the morning always caught Theodore’s attention. In those early hours when the sun's warm shades had not yet overtaken the cool, the birds still refused to sing, and the residents of the castle hadn’t yet awoken. It was a rarity for him to wake up at this time naturally—it didn't always have the same effect. But when he opened his eyes to the milky hue that stained the floor and felt the luster within his sleep-filled eyes, an instant feeling of comfort washed over him. This was always quickly followed by an unnerving question of life itself and the reason for these comforting feelings, but before this came along, there was comfort.

It was the folds in the sheets that traced over his legs and the imaginary body lying next to him; the soft dancing of eyelashes over cheeks; the supple pink of another’s lips--someone in particular, not just anyone; and coffee with just enough cream to where it matched an old pair of corduroy trousers. These were all things that made him feel equally as comfortable as that morning light. The lips, though, were an image that often flashed in his mind. As were the sheets and the unfairly long eyelashes and the corduroy trousers. Each day, Theo found himself aligning more things in his personal thoughts to that of someone like you. He might hope to consider you his love but would never truly do so for the looming sense of rejection that hung over him like a rain cloud.

The door in the corner creaked with a symphony of old wood and rusty nails. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but the sound was as nostalgic as the crackles within the records that he and you used to play, sitting on the floors of each other's bedrooms. Theo smiled gently at the memory, remembering the feel of the hardwood beneath your ankles and the looks in both of your eyes. If he wasn't crazy, he might have thought that this is where his heart first opened up to you. Where he first realized how badly he craved your touch instead of any of the girls or guys his mates eyed in town.

"Teddy," a whisper like crinkling parchment tickled the shell of his ears. Only you could call him that.

"Are you awake?"

Theo pushed himself up into a sitting position, feeling the sheets tangle around his feet in a new position than they previously had. His eyes met that of a bedroom floor record player in an embrace with a cotton touch. You smiled, showing off the teeth that Theo found so endearing. You shifted a bit in the doorway, rubbing your bare thighs together in an attempt to gain some warmth. You were still wearing the shirt and the shorts that you’d been in the night before—the ones that made his stomach kiss his chest.

He caught onto your sense of embarrassment and beckoned you over, your nightshirt a bit too big for you. The sleeves reached the tips of your fingers in a rather demeaning manner. You sauntered over before stepping into his bed, crossing your legs and placing your hands comfortably between each thigh. The shirt you wore was ill-fitting just as his but in a different way. The cotton material lay against your chest which didn't dare to touch. Your skin pulled tight over your bones and made a passionate embrace with the fabric as it hung off you in a rather languorous way that caught Theo’s attention rather quickly. The collar delicately caressed your exposed collarbones that cut like knives and burned like fire in the pit of Theo’s stomach.

"Alright, love?" Theo whispered, his voice cracking from the pressure of the morning. You looked down, a few strands of hair falling into your eyes. You didn't seem to notice.

"Couldn’t sleep, I reckon . . . ," you spoke just above a whisper, the tenor undertones in your voice making the hair on Theo’s arms stand up. Without thinking, the brunette swiftly swiped the hair out of your eyes with a single thumb, just barely brushing your skin with his own. His eyes found yours in a breathless escape, attempting to analyze what you were feeling. Theo could hear his heartbeat in his ears and he wondered if you could hear it as well. His hand fell limp at his side in an embarrassed fashion.

Your mouth opened as if to speak but closed once more. You seemed to be debating on whether or not to say what was dancing on the end of your tongue. Theo desperately wanted to hear what you had to say. He wanted to know if it was a negative or a positive that he had touched you in that way.

"Teddy—" you began but Theo pressed his lips to yours before you could finish. It hadn't been something he’d thought about before doing. He just did it. His hands remained tightly pressed into his lap, not wanting to push himself onto you any further. He felt bad for doing this in the first place, he just needed to feel the person he'd known for so long in the way he desired. He expected you to push him away or run or something but by the time he realized those things could possibly happen, he knew that this kiss had been extended much too long to be a hormone-fueled act of blind passion.

Your lips no longer remained dormant but moved against his. Yours cradled his bottom lip with a gentle touch—much too gentle for him. He pressed his hands to either side of your face, pulling himself onto his knees. You rested comfortably between his thighs, knees dug into the mattress, as your shoulders were against the headrest. He steadied you, feeling his fingers trace the lower part of your posture. Theo groaned breathlessly into your mouth, politely insinuating that he needed a breath.

You slowly pulled away, your lips joined in a messy trail of spit that disconnected as you rested your forehead against his. Blue eyes met yours in a frenzied heat of repressed desire as dry throats held the hunger of fasting lovers. Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, eyes flickering down from his bewitching eyes to his swollen lips, painted with your love.

"More."

It was a single whisper. Nothing too dramatic or emotional, just the hoarse beg of a starved man. You took Theo’s lips back onto your own, much more fervently than before, feeling his desperate breath against your cheeks. Theo’s hands fell to your hips, his fingers brushing the bare skin there. You winced into his mouth at the cold touch of his rings, your fingers tightening into his hair.

Theo pushed off from the headboard and gently laid you back on the bed. He hovered over you in a protective guard, shielding you from all other eyes in the outside world. His lips touched against your neck like a feather, only barely ghosting against your soft flesh. You knew that the man above was like a god and you worshiped him as such. Lips to skin, teeth to bone. The young god's hands held onto you like a lifeline, exhaling syllables packed with amour and white-hot lust in your ear.

Theo’s hand slid delicately beneath your shirt, caressing the warm skin stretched over your ribs. You could feel his heart drumming through the rest of his body like a bomb ticking away. It teased you, daring you to take control. He wouldn't let you, though, you knew this well enough. The man in question slid down your body and pulled you by the back of your knees until your head was resting against the pillow. His knees lock you in place. You couldn't go anywhere even if you wanted to.

"Are you sure, love—" Theo whispered breathlessly.

"Merlin, Theo, yes," you spoke. You were surprised you even got the words out with the way your pulse was pounding in your ears. It knocked against your brain, imprinting a tattoo of lust within your skull.

If Theo died right now and the last thing he saw was you beneath him, pressing your lips against his undeserving flesh and tracing your fingers down every individual scar, freckle, and anomaly on his body, then he'd take it.

#theodore nott #theo nott #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #fanfiction #smut #theodore nott x reader #harry potter smut #slytherin #creative writing #oneshot #reader insert #fanfic

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casualhedonists · 5 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism (lmk if i forgot anything!) murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here

chapter: 1/? (chapter 2 here)

MASTERLIST

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

A/N: this is what happens when i let my brain loose to do whatever tf it wants (title is from attention by doja cat as is the general theme)

Show you how to touch it Hold it like it's precious It don't need your lovin' It just needs attention

You were getting tired of this charade.

Snow was courting you, or so it would seem. In truth, it was all for show. He was seen with you on his arm at public events, just enough to make it look like you were together. Marriage was probably further down the line, but Snow was in no rush for that to happen. For now, he was pleased with the positive attention he received for appearing like a reliable, loving, doting partner.

“There’s a science behind it,” Cordelia, Snow’s preferred public relations manager - and one of the Capitol’s best - had told you in a meeting between the three of you, discussing strategy, coordinating events, and how best to make the relationship seem authentic. “The more the public see you as grounded, committed, and warm, the more respect they hold for you. The more open they are to your ideas, and any changes you make as president.”

You’d concealed your smirk well enough for it to go unnoticed upon hearing that.

Snow was a lot of things, but he was never warm. The name itself decreed it. He was cold, calculating, sharp witted, manipulative. Power hungry.

You were fine with the arrangement at first. It suited your thirst for power; despite coming from one of the richest families in the capital, Snow’s power was of a different breed. You wanted in, and so when your social circles crossed over and the proposition was made, you’d risen to the occasion.

The reality was this: it was a good arrangement. Coriolanus was adored and admired by any outsider with a pair of eyes, and you got anything you wanted. You got to live in the manor house Coriolanus occupied, eating good food while being waited on hand and foot. You got to network with powerful people in the highest of society. Even if you wanted someone executed, it would be carried out in turn, without question. Name it, and it was yours. Snow was a generous host and ally to you.

It was everything you wanted.

Almost.

Somehow, despite it all, all the custom gowns shipped in from the expensive designers, the buffet spreads and the silk sheets, the way that people had begun to stare in respect as soon as you walked into a room, there was just one thing that itched at you, one thing you knew wasn’t part of the plan.

It was Snow.

Somewhere, between the light kisses in front of expectant eyes, the gentle hand on yours at dinner, that was hurriedly removed once you were behind closed doors again, you’d grown a gnawing, incessant want towards the man that had given you almost everything you could ever hope for.

Eight months, this had been going on. Eight months since Snow suggested this business proposal. Sex was never a part of the deal. And of course, you couldn’t sleep with anyone you pleased; that would be catastrophic for both of your reputations. And so it had been eight months since anybody had touched you other than yourself, biting your pillow so nobody could hear Snow’s name on your lips as you gripped the sheets. Even if you wanted to sleep with other people, you couldn’t. Truth is though, you’d developed rather expensive taste. A taste for only him. Even if you had the choice, nobody else would do.

You wondered if he ever thought of you while he touched himself. That thought slipped into your head every so often, when your hand was between your thighs. Then it became a more frequent occurrence. Then it became a nightly one, and by then, you were pretty sure you’d started going crazy.

You weren’t a romantic - this arrangement would never have worked if you were. You were like him; power hungry, relentless, impatient. And most of all, when you wanted something, you got it. And you wanted to seduce Coriolanus Snow.

So you’d started leaving breadcrumbs. Put an extra glint in your eyes when you glanced over at him, in public, first, and then in private more and more. You’d thrown out dozens of your more conservative dresses, keeping only the shortest ones that hugged your hips and dropped tantalisingly low on the neckline. Started wearing them more around the house, pretending to drop things just so you could bend down in front of him.

You estimated this act would last for a good week or two before Snow folded.

You were wrong.

If anything, it seemed to render Snow even more indifferent to you than he’d been before you started playing your little games. And each time he ignored you, glanced unimpressed at your outfit then looked away, or full-on walked right past you out the room, you started to simmer even more.

A normal girl in a normal situation would take a hint, cut her losses. But you were no normal girl, and this was no ordinary situation.

You had to be in the same boat, surely. Snow was still just a man, after all. A man with similarly limited options, and you knew he must’ve at least found you a little attractive, else he wouldn’t have chosen you to parade around on his arm in public, in pretty dresses and expensive jewellery.

Snow’s indifference only fuelled your fire. Sure, an ordinary girl would just give up. But eight months of this torture and you were at your breaking point. Besides, it was either him, or nobody. You weren’t giving up. Not in this lifetime.

So you got more obvious. Started taking breakfast in your nightgown each morning instead of getting dressed, sitting opposite Coriolanus with several feet of the mahogany table between you, biting into grapes from the fruit bowl and letting the juice trail down your chin, wiping it off then sucking your fingers clean, humming with your digits in your mouth, glancing at him with full-blown bedroom eyes when he’d look over at you from behind his paper.

It was no use. Nearly a month had passed and he’d barely even looked at you for more than a second at a time. Your conversations were short, lacklustre and strictly business related. You’d even tried playing on his heartstrings, asking about his day and work and his family. You were lucky if you got more than blunt, one-worded answers every time.

You’d exhausted yourself with all these failed attempts, until one Thursday night you heard footsteps walking past your bedroom door. This wasn’t abnormal - Snow kept extensive household staff - except for the sound of these were different. You recognised the faint clicking of heels against the hardwood, a sound you heard all the time at galas and balls, but never in these halls, when an event was nowhere on the radar. And this was one such night.

Your curiosity led you off your bed and to the door, gently opening it to glance outside. Whoever it was had turned the corner, the clicking fading down the hallway. You carefully closed the door behind you and began to follow the sound. A chill ran up the backs of your legs as you walked; it was getting slightly colder as winter closed in, and your bedroom attire wasn’t exactly fit for the weather, given that you picked out the laciest, most impractical slips to sleep in, ready for your performance the next morning at breakfast.

You paced down the corridor, winding past the door to each room, a study, a small library (the larger one was downstairs), Snow’s office, and then finally, at the end, the door to Snow’s bedroom.

Oh.

This room was always enigmatic to you, as you’d never been inside. Your obsession with Snow had led you to wonder, day in and day out, what lay behind that door. The color of his bedsheets, what sat on his dresser, the contents of his closet, what aftershave he wore that had caused you to develop a practically pavlovian reaction anytime he got close to you.

You paused, a few feet away from the door, fearing Snow’s response if you crossed that line, if he were to walk out and find you hovering between his office and his room, clearly attempting to eavesdrop.

You heard shifting, then voices inside as you focused all your attention onto listening, trying hard to pick up on the conversation. You took another tentative step forward, practicing in your head what you would say if he stepped outside. I just wanted to ask what you wanted me to wear on Monday’s gala, I was thinking the white dress with the gold detailing. It wasn’t too late in the evening for that to be a viable excuse, if you could make it sound convincing enough.

But as you got closer you noticed something. There was a soft light spilling out from behind the door, which was in fact, just slightly ajar.

Snow usually kept the door locked at all times, you knew that from testing the handle - admittedly more than a few times - when he had been out of the house, and you were certain he wouldn’t be home for hours. This was something different. This felt dangerous, like walking a tightrope that was about to get cut, but the thrill of adrenaline pushed you forward.

You’d stopped hearing voices by then. You snuck ever closer, ears starting to ring as you found yourself drawn to the open door, taking silent steps towards it until there was no going back, and your body was practically flush to it. Holding your breath, you peeked through, pushing it ever so gently, praying that it wouldn’t creak. You had to crane your neck slightly to see any movement in the room, but it didn’t take long to see it, and when you did, you certainly didn’t feel cold anymore. Any curious whims on the color of his furniture and walls were long pushed to the side, because you couldn’t have focused on anything else in the room if you tried.

Snow was sat on a deep red velvet ottoman at the foot of his bed, shirt buttons undone and pushed behind him, leaving you with a full view of his chest. Your eyes panned down to see his usually pristine dress pants rolled carelessly down, pooling around his ankles. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows in a similarly rushed manner. One hand was behind him, propping himself up, and the other was tightly gripping a handful of blonde hair, belonging to a girl that knelt at his feet in nothing but black underwear and stiletto heels - the culprit of the footsteps - moving her head up and down as Snow roughly guided her, lips parted, head tipped back, eyes firmly shut, breathing roughly. A few strands of damp blonde hair had fallen to his temples, just enough to make him look disheveled, yet somehow still regal, like a greek god.

You stood there, frozen. A million emotions battling for dominance in your head, anger, panic, fear, raging jealousy. Desire.

That was the one that stuck with you in the moment. It was a good thing Snow’s eyes were closed and the girl’s back was facing you, because your feet were firmly planted on the ground, watching this scene unfold, and you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere even if you tried. Watching as Snow’s breathing got heavier, as his grip on the girl’s hair got tighter and more forceful. Watching as her one arm gripped his thigh, and the other moved to where her mouth was, out of your eyeshot, and the obscenity of this was made somehow worse by the fact that you couldn’t see exactly what was happening.

Firstly, because it allowed your brain to fill in the blanks as Snow hissed through his teeth and dropped his head back. Secondly, because from this angle, you couldn’t see the girl’s face, and you were able to picture yourself in her place, wet mouth wrapped around him, being the cause of his undoing.

Come to think of it, there was another reason you were glad you couldn’t see her face, and it was purely for her sake. Because if you could’ve seen her, you would’ve had no excuse not to kill the bitch then and there.

You could hear, though. You could hear her soft moans and the lewd wetness of her mouth as her head moved even faster, before Snow took full control as his hips started to jerk, holding her head in place. There was a fire in the pit of your stomach and your lips were parted, staring. Knowing that if even for a second, Snow opened his eyes just for a glance, he’d see you immediately. You’d be hanged, probably. Or worse. And yet you didn’t run; you couldn’t. Nothing on God’s earth could’ve caused your feet to turn you around and leave the room. It was like you were suspended in some dream-like state, hearing going fuzzy, head spinning.

Then Snow started groaning, breath hitching in his throat as he got closer to the edge, you could hear it. Your brain began melting, and you didn’t have time to think through what would happen after he was finished and he saw you. If you were going to be hanged for this, it would be worth it, you thought, as his hips started to jerk even faster and his groans turned into strained whispers. Fuck and that’s it and good girl, and finally, as his eyes squeezed shut even tighter, and he came into her mouth with a strangled cry, you heard a name.

Yours.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #snow x reader #snow x you #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #tom blyth #ugh i haven't written in so long and this is my first time writing for this fandom go easy on me pls

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2-dsimp · 1 month

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Yandere monster gang

Introducing the poltergeist

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(Fem! Reader)

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Cw: 🔞MDNI🔞 Slight smonophillia, slight degradation, slight rough play, facials, non-con, humiliation, titfuck, M! Oral receive

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Yandere poltergeist who loves to watch you at every second of the day, In his lonesome plane of existence since you were the only source of happiness he could get due to his unfortunate circumstances. Which made you feel chills and goosebumps prickle on your skin whenever you could feel a presence. It didn’t matter if you were eating, sleeping, changing, or even taking a shower you’ve always felt as if you weren’t alone.

Yandere poltergeist who’s not shy to say hello with a lecherous grin on his face as his materialized hand gave the fat of your ass a smack while you passed him walking down the hallway to your room. Making you squeak, startled from the invisible force that assaulted your butt. But to no avail you kept on moving with the motive of brushing it off as a weird occurrence trying not to dwell on it too much.

Yandere poltergeist who is an attention whore that finds it amusing to watch you shrivel up in fear and scramble to find logical explanations for the little pranks he’s done in mansion. By leaving harsh markings in the form of bites or scratches that form scraggly initials on your skin, jerking off traces of his essence into the foods that you cook, and messily smearing mysterious goop on your panties, bras, and sheets on your bed so that it stains. He just loved the adorable expression of confusion and conflict making your face scrunch up in a cute frown.

Yandere poltergeist who was slowly starting to get irritated from the lack of reactions he’s been getting from you as you became more accustomed to the strange instances of random noises, missing items, knocked over books, and featherlight caresses of your body. The last straw was when you invited someone over without his permission his vision turning red as he saw them putting their hands over what’s his.

Yandere poltergeist that decides to take it into his own hands to punish his darling…

Yandere poltergeist who hovers above your defenseless body sprawled out in the bed. While he began to start using up the energy he’s saved up in return for halting his daily routine of actively haunting his darling. Taking advantage of the fact that you’re a heavy sleeper he put the ropes he found in the basement to use and tied your wrists and ankles down to the bed post. He planned to teach his darling some manners and make it so you respected his house rules.

Yandere poltergeist who greedily caresses every curve and crease of your skin while practically tearing off the thin layers of your sleeping pajamas. Exposing your breast and delectable pussy to his viewing pleasure before he uses his cold materialized hands to roughly grope and tweak at your hardened nipples which jolted you awake from your restful slumber as he’s leaving little love bites along the expanse of your neck.

Yandere poltergeist who smiles endearingly at your struggles and attempts at screaming for help at the sight of a faint mirage of a scruffy young lean man wearing glasses straddling you. while he continues to defile your body with his throbbing cold length that rubbed against your belly button getting coated in his slimy pre. As he makes his way up towards your breasts dragging the fat leaking tip between the valley of your generous mounds.

Yandere poltergeist that sandwiched his pulsating cock in between your tits using his hands to take your soft flesh and languid thrusts up against your pursed lips in rapid succession. Enjoying the way your boobs bounced and jiggled with every jab of his translucent dick that kept on prodding at your full lips.

Yandere poltergeist that whispered words of flith into your ears

”I love it when you struggle sweetheart it turns me on so much that I wanna ruin you”

“Now Why don’t you open that sweet mouth of yours and suck my cock like a good little slut”

Yandere poltergeist who takes his hand and forcefully squish your cheeks so your lips open into an o shape perfect for him to fully rock himself inside the moist cavern of your mouth hissing at the blissful feel of you having no choice but to suck on his twitching dick violating your throat.

Yandere poltergeist who doesn’t last long due to having no prolonged physical contact in years and plants his hips against your face driving his the tip of his balls deep down your throat expelling all the pent up cum he had stored in his transparent balls with a relaxed moan.

Yandere poltergeist Having some semblance to realize that you were choking on his dick and begrudgingly pulled out from your mouth with a small pop and continued to spurt lines of his semen all over your face, neck, and tits. His eyes filled with desire and satisfaction at your lewd state enjoying the embarrassment and defeat washed on your face. Oh he was going to have so much fun with all the plans he’s got stored for his dearest houseguest.

Yandere poltergeist who will haunt you forevermore and keep his pretty houseguest as his sole form of entertainment

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royal-hair · 2 years

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I just renewed the RFs tags page and I’m kinda proud of how the code worked and it’s easier to look for a RF that way than scrolling and scrolling and scrolling.

Hope you like it!

xxx

#i needed permission from tumblr to use javascript last week and I got the ok today #i worked on a blank word sheet because i couldn't save the changes here #at least i could preview it so i could see what things i needed to change #what a headache

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arieslost · 3 months

Text

one night only | cl16

charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: when the miami grand prix comes around, charles books a hotel room.

word count: 3,263

warnings: 18+ content MDNI!! mentions of cheating (don’t do it), cursing, charles is a player but you’re down bad (who isn’t), this is my first time writing smut so enjoy!

special thank you to @venusacrossthestars for being my beta reader, ily bestie <3

masterlist — join my tag list here!

unknown number: Our hotel. 10:30. Your keycard is at the front desk.

It was like clockwork. Every weekend of the Miami Grand Prix, you always ended up with a keycard in your hand. When Monday came, you woke up, showered, and took the tiny bottle of shampoo that you used with you when you left. It went in a shoebox under your bed to remind yourself not only of your mistakes, but of each and every night you spent forgetting them in the arms of the biggest mistake himself— Charles Leclerc.

It’s happened twice now. You hardly remembered the first, barring a joke you made about whether or not you needed to sign a NDA. Charles had silenced you by backing you up against the locked door and pressing heated kisses to your jaw, lips moving down your neck as you pulled him closer. He was excited that weekend— he’d taken P2, and it was thanks to the celebration he partook in at the club that he met you.

You were a bartender for the VIP section at a club near the track. It was easy work, if you didn’t mind all the flirting and catcalling. You were never one to be affected by it; you knew they were all either drunk beyond recognition, or would be by the end of the night. You loved your job. You also loved your boyfriend, whose shift you’d picked up that night.

But then Charles Leclerc, Scuderia Ferrari’s golden boy, sat down at the bar. Your bar.

After that weekend, you didn’t have a boyfriend. How could you, when every time he kissed you, you saw a certain Monegasque behind your closed eyelids? When every time he touched you, you imagined different hands caressing your skin?

You’ve always prided yourself in being a strong, independent woman, but when it came to the Formula One driver, all your inhibitions went out the window, and your pride with them. So you tried not to get attached to him. You were perfectly happy to be the annual hookup, to let yourself go for one night out of the 365 that came in a year. You didn’t need to get to know him, you didn’t need to learn more about the sport; you didn’t even need to kiss him on the mouth.

You didn’t.

So why were the words “our hotel” making your heart race every time you read over the text from his unsaved number?

You thought about responding, but in the end, you settled for liking the message, just like you did the last time he texted you. It had been his idea to keep this up in the first place, anyway.

2021.

“Where’re you going?” He was half awake, sleep fading quickly from his eyes when he took in the sight of you with your hand on the doorknob.

“I was leaving… unless you changed your mind about that NDA?” You quipped.

“That’s as funny as it was last night,” he groaned, stretching out and pushing the blankets off his body.

Ahh, last night. He’d put his boxers back on before falling asleep, but they didn’t really leave much to the imagination. Especially because it was all so fresh in your mind. The way he looked– hair mussed after all the times your hands had run through it, golden skin against the crisp, white hotel sheets, the red scratch marks on his back… Yeah, it was a miracle that you didn’t launch yourself back into the bed right then and there. You still dreamt about it sometimes, the way he looked so ethereal in the early morning sunlight streaming through the curtains.

“Are you going to continue to mock my sense of humor, or can I be on my way?” Your throat was so dry.

“I’ll be back in the area next year.” He didn’t offer any explanation— it was Charles Leclerc. He didn’t have to.

You fished out the piece of paper you’d scrawled your number on earlier before promptly stuffing it into your pocket in a moment of retrospection. Hell bent on leaving the room before you acted on the impulse to get on top of him again, you tossed it onto the nightstand.

“Make sure I can tell it’s you.” It was the last thing you said to him before you finally made it out the door.

Now, you read over his text again as you climbed the steps to the VIP section of the club. Our hotel. You were going to need some liquid courage if you were going to fuck him tonight.

A solid perk of your job was free access to the VIP section when you weren’t working, and in times like these you were most definitely going to take advantage of it. A couple shots were all you needed to take the edge off, and you downed them in quick succession before checking the time- 10:10. You were cutting it close, but the closer it got to 10:30, the antsier you became. You decided to linger for five more minutes, and called for another round.

“You okay?” One of your coworkers asked from behind the bar as he filled the shot glasses in front of you. “You look a little nervous.”

You laughed, waving him off. “I’m fine. Now leave me alone so I can enjoy my drinks, will you?”

He flipped you off good naturedly before turning to his other customers.

With another shot down, you took out your phone, the text still front and center on the display. You swiped it away, instead opening up the search engine. Against your better judgment, you typed the sentence you’d been restraining yourself from searching up all day long: miami gp 2024 results.

The first thing you saw was his name. CHARLES LECLERC WINS 2024 MIAMI GRAND PRIX.

You fought the urge to smile, quickly grabbing your fourth and final shot and tipping it back. Ironically, the burn of the whiskey sobered you up a little as you gazed at the picture showcasing his beaming face and dimpled cheeks, both hands lifting the first place trophy high in the air. You made the mistake of bringing up the race (or lack thereof) the last time you saw him, and since then you’d made an effort to try and avoid anything to do with F1.

2022.

“Disqualified? I mean, it’s shit!” You exclaimed heatedly as you wiped down the bar. Your phone was burning a hole in your pocket, making your stomach squirm with excitement every time you remembered the text.

Same hotel. 10:30. There’s a keycard at the front desk. No NDA. You had giggled at that last bit, and if you’d completely given up on your morals then you might have fallen in love with him for remembering the joke that he didn’t even crack a smile at last year. You’d practiced some French, and you paid attention to news about the Miami Grand Prix, but you hadn’t given up on your morals. You weren’t going to fall for and pursue the guy you only saw once a year.

The French was simply because you wanted to brush up on your rusty high school skills. As for the news… well, you were in the area. Everyone was paying attention to the news.

“I didn’t realize you cared so much.” Your coworker replied, an eyebrow cocked at your reaction to what the reporter was saying on the TV.

“I don’t care, I just think it’s stupid.” You backpedaled, trying to sound more casual than you did a second ago, especially when Charles appeared on the screen looking nothing short of dead inside and your heart began to beat a little faster. “Everyone should be able to race.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the FIA for you.” One of your patrons grumbled, thumbing through his wallet and producing two five dollar bills. “Thanks, guys.”

“You keep that,” you shoved both bills into your coworker’s hand after the customer was out of earshot. “I have to go.”

You changed at the speed of light in the VIP bathroom before going to the hotel. You showed the clerk your ID, collected the keycard, entered the room, and promptly made a fool of yourself.

“I heard about the disqualification on the news…” You trailed off when you were met with a glare, not necessarily towards you but rather the topic of conversation.

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.” Was all he said before he practically manhandled you onto the bed, pulling his shirt over his head as you bounced back on the mattress. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to talk about work. I don’t want to talk at all.”

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, any other words dying in your throat as he hurriedly pushed your dress up past your stomach and immediately started kissing every inch of newly exposed skin.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he looked up at you. “The only thing I want to hear you say for the rest of the night is my name, understand?”

He’d grabbed your hands and put them in his hair that night, right as he had you seeing stars courtesy of his head between your legs. You dreamt about that, too. A lot. You always woke up sweating, in desperate need of a certain type of relief that only he could give you.

You were thinking about last year again as you walked through the revolving doors into the hotel lobby, the shots of whiskey making your veins thrum with excitement.

The way he had whined when you pulled his hair.

The way he smirked at you as he crawled back up your body, so full of himself and so damn sexy.

You found yourself wondering what he’d be like tonight after winning the race as you gave your name to the clerk at the front desk, hoping she wouldn’t comment on how flushed you looked. She asked to see your ID, then handed the keycard over. Room 24. You were there in moments. He always booked a room on the third floor. As you walked down the hallway, you were vaguely aware of the fact that, against your will, this had become something of a routine.

You and Charles Leclerc. One night only.

For three years in a row.

You hadn’t even bothered to dress up this time— your clothes wouldn’t be staying on very long, anyway.

You were glad to see that you’d gotten there first when you opened the door, pocketing the keycard as the door swung shut behind you. There was no point in looking around the room; you knew the layout like the back of your hand. Eventually, you drew your attention to the view out of the large window, moving the curtain out of your way to admire the view of the Miami night. You tried imagining what everyone else was doing at that exact moment to distract yourself, but your mind kept going back to Charles.

Charles, Charles, Charles. Just thinking about him made your heart knock against your chest, and you were in the middle of mentally berating yourself for it when you heard the door opening and Charles himself walked in, the trophy you saw him holding in the picture still in his hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him, nerves adding a slight shake to your voice.

He gave you a soft smile in return, setting the trophy down on the nightstand and adjusting it slightly.

You remembered how he reacted the last time you mentioned his job, but this had to be different. Besides, it felt wrong not to acknowledge it when the trophy was literally sitting right there.

“Congrats— or, actually, félicitations on the win,” you said, dropping the curtain back and stepping closer to get a better look at the trophy. “Much better result than last year.”

“You’re not kidding.” He scoffed, taking his hat off and tossing it on the other side of the nightstand. “You know French?”

“A little.”

He had changed out of his race suit, but when you stood next to him you could still smell the champagne.

“Think you’ll be in the running for the championship?” You asked casually, even though you knew that he was in a great position already and was most definitely in the running for the championship.

You tried to avoid Formula One. You just weren’t all that successful.

He gave you a look, like he was trying to get in your head and figure out when you’d started paying attention. “I hope so,” he finally answered. “This could be the year.”

“I hope so too.” A pause. “Would it be overstepping if I said I was proud of you?”

This brought a real smile to his face, his dimples seeming even more prominent than they did in the photo. “Not at all. It’s actually really nice… hearing that from you.”

The usual initial awkwardness had finally faded away, and you knew what was going to happen next. You wished you could sit down with him and listen to him retell every moment of his triumphant race, but you couldn’t.

That’s what girlfriends do. Not hookups. You were perfectly fine with being a hookup, and you would continue to repeat it to yourself until you believed it again.

To mask your disappointment, you reached out and gently took his hand. His palm was warm under your touch as you pulled him close. “How about we celebrate that first place, hmm?”

The two of you moved like a well oiled machine, even after not seeing each other in a year.

He always tried to kiss you. You always turned your head at the last second. If he was disappointed, he never showed it, instead focusing on getting you underneath him. Not that he had to try very hard.

Charles had a way of making you forget. With every brush of his fingers against your bare skin, every press of his lips at your collarbone, you slipped away from reality more and more, until the only things that mattered were you, him, and the hotel room. Nothing existed outside of the four walls you were within, and how could you care right now? You couldn’t, not when he had already gotten you out of your shirt and bra and his hand was gently taking hold of your breast. He was taking his time, studying your every move in response to his own. His thumb brushed across your nipple just enough for your breath to catch in your throat, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” he murmured, ego clearly inflated by the fact that the slightest touch from him still had you reacting this way, and you wished more than anything that you could kiss that stupid smirk off his face.

“I thought we were supposed to be celebrating,” you managed to say as his thumb continued its back and forth motion.

“This is me celebrating.” He paused, giving you a pointed look. “Is this not good enough for you?”

You bit your tongue, chest rising and falling as you squirmed underneath him due to the sudden lack of stimulation. “I-I just—”

“What? Utilise tes mots, chérie. Je sais que tu peux.” Use your words, dear. I know you can.

You took a breath, then looked directly into his stunning green eyes as you reached up, grabbed his wrist, and pushed his hand down. “Je te veux ici, Charles.” I want you here.

He cursed lowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment when he heard you speaking French back to him. “You said you only knew a little.”

“Just the important stuff,” you teased, eyes traveling down from his bare chest to his fingers as he tugged your underwear off.

The rest of his clothes followed, and he didn’t waste any time rolling on a condom and pushing himself into you, a punched breath leaving his lips once he was fully seated inside you. “Thought about this all day,” he said, large hands running over your naked body. “Couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You can’t say that kind of shit to me, Charles.” You sighed, your eyes closed as you adjusted to him.

“Why not?”

“Because it messes with my head,” you admitted.

“I mean it, though.”

“Did you mean to say ‘our hotel’ too?” You opened your eyes now, the burning question finally about to be answered.

“It is, don’t you think?” He asked, and then he started to move; slowly, tantalizingly.

“Shit. I can’t think when I’m with you.”

You couldn’t talk after that, not when he was making you feel so good. You could only wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer and marking his neck wherever your lips landed. You shouldn’t have, and he should have stopped you, but neither of you cared. Every lewd noise coming from his mouth made you feel hotter and hotter, and just when you thought you were going to burst into a ball of flames, he started talking.

“I want you to look at yourself,” he instructed breathlessly, maneuvering you so he was now laying on his side behind you… and you were staring right into your own eyes in the shiny surface of his first place trophy. “See how beautiful you look when I fuck you.”

You gasped, eyes rolling back, bringing your arm back so your hand could find a home in his hair again. You watched through the trophy as he dipped his head into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin and arm tightening around you as he picked up his pace.

“Charles, I—”

“Mhmm,” he moaned in your ear, his hand slipping back between your legs when he felt you tightening around him. “Go on, baby, let go for me.”

You didn’t need to learn more about Formula One, but you had. You didn’t need to know more about Charles Leclerc, but you wanted to. You didn’t need to kiss him on the mouth. But your mind was hazy, and you wanted to know how his lips felt on yours. You wanted it so bad that, when the both of you had come back down to earth, you didn’t fight it when he leaned in and captured your lips with his. He kissed you deeply, rolling you onto your back against the pillows. You felt his hand against your cheek, and as you opened your mouth for him you tangled your fingers with his.

You weren’t stupid. You knew that things wouldn’t change.

And they don’t.

You still wake up before him in the morning. You still shower. You still put your clothes back on. You still trade parting words with each other, and you don’t hear from him for another year. You still take the shampoo bottle and put it in your shoebox when you get home, ignoring the ache between your legs the whole while.

Nothing changes.

Except now, you’ve spent a year knowing what it’s like to kiss him. You know how easily your lips mold together, how you would happily spend your one night with him doing nothing but kissing him.

And when the text lights up your phone, a thrill shoots through you.

CL16: Our hotel. 10:00. You know where to find your keycard. 😉

Maybe, somehow, you can find a way to keep your morals and be in love with Charles Leclerc at the same time.

note: well, here it is— after two+ years, i have made my long awaited return to posting fics on tumblr. i’ve done it in style by posting 18+ content for the first time; i hope it wasn’t too cringy to read. i don’t know what came over me, but here we are. thank you so much for reading.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

also, i’ve been out of high school for almost three years now, so i greatly apologize if the french is bad or incorrect.

beautiful dividers by @saradika !!

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @naturallyspontaneous @whatever7justchillin @outerudeth @devlovesbooks @wegaveitago @seagulltacotoaster @acarguello1 @fangirlika @simplyscorpio @nuccibeboo2 @heeygemmilala @toppersjeep @anedpev @vee2004dee @chriss-club @lewisroscoelove @scaramou @aneverythingwriter @bingewatche @candystarfish @bestpart0fmylife @topgunmav1df1 @taytaythirteen @jackiekennedys @tpwk-loml @mangodreamsicle @rafaaoli @bunbun9396 @olicitymckono @weareallsnottygirls @jenm26 @alicecourtier @oliveswiftly @janeholt3 @d3kstar @l-inas @smiithys @spookylilmeep @barcelono @ililali-blog @srhh15 @sainz-leclerc @lilycampbells-blog @cassandra-nerezza-black @nova-rush

#full fic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smut #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 smut

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skylarsblue · 1 year

Text

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

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kissatoru · 8 months

Text

★ ₊˚ JUST ONE MORE

content. sub!armin, soft dom!reader, gn!reader, handjob, edging, overstimulation, praise kink, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, aftercare, pet names (baby, love)

wc. 1.5k

you’re sitting in armin’s lap, thighs around his hips and a hand cradling his face. your fingers pet his hair absentmindedly while your lips dance along his, soft and tender yet passionate, full of stolen breaths and longing.

...but your other hand is not so gentle with how it’s been edging him for an hour, sliding up and down his wet length at a pace that has him squirming helplessly. some of his noises escape through the flickers of space between your moving lips and leave a tingling sensation in their wake. you chase that feeling with fervour, fluctuating between flicking your wrist faster and slowing down to focus on his sensitive tip. his thighs writhe and his breaths gradually fan harder and quicker against your face. his hands scramble in search of purchase, jumping from the sheets to your thighs to where your fingers still cup his cheek.

your sensual kissing has long since turned feverish, mixing with bites and harsher presses of swollen lips. armin pulls away to whisper, “close, close, close,” against your mouth, hushed but desperate.

“don’t cum until i tell you,” you remind him and he can only manage a small nod before his head is flopping back against the pillows. his jaw goes slack, making way for whimpers and moans that spur you on. his hands return to the bedding, twisting and tugging at fistfuls of fabric. he’s so close, so so close. he’s not sure if he’ll be able to hold on long enough to do as he’s been told.

as if reading his mind, you lower your other hand and rub his thigh. “you’re doing so well, just a little longer,” you assure, but each second feels like an eternity and ‘a little longer’ turns into too long and just as he’s about to cum without permission, you say, “go ahead, baby, let go. you’ve earned it.”

armin’s mouth opens up into a loud whine that blurs into weak little ‘thank you’s. spurts of white spill over his stomach, some even reaching his chest. your soaked fist moves from tip to base, slowing down with every drop of cum that follows. his chest rises and falls and his hot puffy breaths beat against your skin as he sinks down from his high.

“you– you can stop now,” armin breathes, his voice raw and quiet and trusting as he waits for you to stop, but your hand only continues to pump his cock, quickening motions that overheat his already hot skin. “ngh, wait! why are you still–”

“shh, shh.” you push aside some hair that’s fallen in his eyes as he moans brokenly. “it’s okay. doesn’t it feel nice?”

doesn’t it? he can’t decide. “i don’t– fuck, it’s so much– i, i can’t–” armin tries to plead but he’s interrupted by another wanton moan, face growing hotter by the minute from the humiliation of not being able to speak. his thighs writhe in confusion at the overwhelming sensation. it sends signals through his nerves, telling him to escape, but he can’t stop himself from thrusting into your tight grip, as if searching for more. the pain burns, but the pleasure is scorching in comparison. he feels like an exposed nerve; he wants to get away, he wants to keep going. his abdomen clenches and unclenches and his toes curl at the changing urges. it feels so good and hurts so bad; pure torture and bliss and completely inescapable. it keeps going with seemingly no direction or ending until he senses the edge of his climax; a coil that twists and tightens in his core.

of course, you notice this immediately, already familiar with his tells. “are you close, ‘min?” you murmur.

unable to trust his voice, armin lets out a pathetic hum. he swallows and tries to catch his breath, focusing on that feeling building up in him, that coil. it curls tighter, tighter, then impossibly tighter, until it finally snaps. he squirts creamy white ropes all over himself and his eyes squeeze shut as the aftershocks of his orgasm wrack through him.

but instead of passing, the stimulation intensifies, and that’s when he realises you still haven’t stopped.

armin’s mouth opens and closes, unable to form sound as his entire body begins to shake. tears well up in his eyes and a sob finally bubbles up from his throat. his hands are frenzied, clawing at your clothes and limbs as if in search of something. he babbles, voice cracking over syllables as he chokes out frantic pleas. he doesn’t even know what he’s pleading for at this point. to stop? to keep going? it’s like he has no control over his body or what he’s saying.

“i know, i know,” you assure softly, “but i want you to cum again for me, love. you can do it, i know you can.”

armin locks his arms around your neck and pulls you closer to him. “c–can’t– hurts... so good,” he whimpers into your ear as he digs his nails into your back and nuzzles his sweaty forehead into your neck. his heart is pounding. his lungs are trembling. his thighs try to clamp shut, but your weight keeps them pinned. before he knows it, he’s cumming, just like you said he could, and much quicker than the previous two times, but he can’t even register the latter because instead of relenting, instead of having mercy, instead of giving him at least a small break between the overwhelming touches and drawn-out orgasms, you just keep fucking going. armin practically wails and you’re quick to comfort him, whispering praises and bringing him out of your neck to wipe away his tears and kiss the reddened apples of his cheeks.

god, you think as you lean back to look at him, he’s so pretty when he cries, eyes shining like ocean water; peering up at you from under sandy blond eyelashes, all clumped together with tears; nose and cheeks tinted pink. on top of that, his lips are kissed and bitten red, complimenting his pale skin, which glitters with sweat. oh, how you’d love to frame a picture of him like this; not even for sexual reasons, you just adore it when armin is so vulnerable and yours. you wish it could last forever, but you’re also wary of the fact you’re about to make him cum for the fourth time and decide you’ll need to stop soon.

you bring your other hand to massage his sticky tip between your fingers while the previous continues to glide up and down his shaft, producing loud and embarrassing squelching sounds. armin keens and instinctually glances down between your bellies; his tip is a deep red, glistening with cum and so swollen that it looks like it hurts and that fact only makes it hurt more. you’re squeezing and kneading the head of his cock with your palm, fast and unfaltering, while your other hand trails down to his balls and rubs the delicate skin there. his orgasm feels as though it’s ripped from him as he cums again, splattering over your hand and his belly. you consider stopping, but after slowing down for a second, a second of rest and mercy, you go back to your previous motions and armin is back to choking on whimpers and crying into your shoulder. his brain has gone fuzzy by now; numb with the intensity of it all.

“just one more time, okay?” you pet his hair while syncing your hand with the sloppy thrusts of his hips. “just one more for me, baby. i know you can do it.”

armin nods, chasing his climax despite his exhaustion and sensitivity. the pain melts into white-hot euphoria that rises higher and higher. he drags his nails up, down and across your shoulder blades, almost scared of his oncoming orgasm. your wrist aches and the scratches on your back sting, but you persist, pumping the top half of his cock, squeezing harder on every upward twist and flicking the pad of your thumb over his weeping slit.

no more than a second later, armin is cumming, but nothing comes out of his poor cock, just a few pitiful drops of residual cum, and the sight of it has him crying. you help him ride out his fifth high while he clings to you even harder, panting and whimpering into your ear. you mutter praises to him as his tense body slowly grows limp and slips off of you. you catch him before he can fall against the bed and carefully lay him down. the warmth of your body leaving has him whining, but you peck him on the temple and promise you’ll be back soon.

when you return with a damp cloth and a glass of water, you find armin half-asleep. you smile fondly and admire the way his skin glows in the low light before making your way over. you set aside the glass and tentatively wipe his skin clean. once you finish, you caress his head, trying to get his attention. “hey, sit up for me, love,” you say, and with some delay, he does. you bring the glass to his lips and help him drink until you’re sure he’s had enough. then you pull the sheets over him and let him lay back down.

“thank you,” armin mumbles. you just smile and kiss his shoulder before sliding in beside him. he sighs into your chest and holds you as close as possible. you pet his hair and the action helps the both of you eventually fall asleep.

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moumouton4 · 8 months

Text

Messy || Sasuke Uchiha x fem!reader

A/n : Prompt 7 of the Smutember 2023 ( Here I used a little headcanon I created on Sasuke and Uchihas in general, so it's not something you could have seen before. You may think unusual, I call it kinky 😩 )

The list of promps is HERE

Smutember 2023 Masterlist ⚜

Warnings : penetrative sex, lots of cum, grahic scenes, mention of pregnacy, shower sex implied, Sasuke is 25-ish here, 18+ READERS ONLY and wrap it before you tap it

Masterlist ⚜

I don’t give permission to repost my work, if you want to share it just reblogue it

Word count : 1301

Sex with Sasuke was always well… sex… but with Sasuke. His behavior never really changed - in the beginning - from how he acted in the middle of the streets or how he acted when he was buried deep inside you. He always managed to keep his stoic and focused expression, almost as if his face was trying to deny that he was actually fucking you. He also denied being quirky in bed. Don’t worry he levels up in this field with time and it doesn’t mean he isn’t skilled at making you feel good.

With time eventually he managed to feel comfortable and let go of any worries that might have affected his behavior. It was soft touches, sweet pecks and loving nuzzles that made you acknowledge his increasing love for you. But being the last Uchiha, brought his fair share of embarrassing drawbacks. And when it happened it actually surprised both you and him by the meaning of it all.

Actually, you were going at it when it happened. You usually weren't that much of a squirter, so you guys never thought about using some special sheet or a towel to prevent any leaks on the mattress. His cock was sliding at a rapid pace in and out of you, both your breaths were heavy as you felt the pleasure plummet inside your bodies. You were feeling extremely good, not caring a minute for the life that continued going on past these walls. It was just him, his love and the pleasure he made you feel.

Though, relaxed wasn't what one would describe Sasuke as just now. His face - though buried against your neck - wore an expression of discomfort. He could feel he was close to coming. But that wasn't the real problem, he'd made you come twice before and even if a moment ago he'd found it hard to cum in front of you, now he was comfortable with the idea of letting you see him so vulnerable. The real problem was the great heat he felt in his belly. It was almost uncomfortable, as if this discomfort was pushing him to cum quickly to free himself from it. His balls felt heavy and loaded as they pounded against your soft skin.

But before he could even prevent anything from happening, and before he could tell you he groaned against the shell of your ear. His Sharingan briefly activated as something he only read in secret scrolls happened. His balls tighten and you certainly felt him throb heavily inside your cunt.

“Y-Y/n…” you heard him stutter as if he was trying to call for help. His length then started to pump white spurts that shooted deep inside you. But it didn’t stop after a few seconds, it seemed as if Sasuke was pouring himself inside you. As his member kept filling you, you couldn’t help but come once more, at the load of seed he offered you.

Despite this you still looked calm. The same, again, couldn’t be said for him. As his breath came in sharp intakes, his hips aleatory bucking against you as if trying to push even more of his seed inside. His grip on you tightened as he tried to ground himself in the present. He wanted to stop the flow of cum that was threatening to spill from you, but his dick seemed to be stubborn today. And it was in all powerlessness that he saw his cum dripping out of you to the sheets.

“Sasuke are you-”

“P-please don’t... just w-wait a minute” he stuttered trying his hardest to take the control he usually has on his body back. But this seemed beyond control.

Then as the last tremors shook his body, he gradually felt himself relax as his member stopped pulsing its warmth. His eyes were wide open as he clung to your smaller body, seeking that comfort and security only you can provide.

He was still struggling to come to terms with what had really happened. Even though in the back of his mind he understood. Understood that his body, feeling in perfect harmony with yours, had taken the initiative to try to inseminate you. Even Sasuke hadn't asked himself that question before. He knew he loved you and wanted to share his life with you, whatever the cost. But he was light years away from thinking that his genes would take over his body in an attempt to take such a step. But after all, he was a young Uchiha man, and even you knew that the Uchihas had a certain relationship with large families. The fact that he was the last of them had undoubtedly only reinforced a reaction that would have seemed normal to his young body.

Your hand gently reached for his raven hair, you knew he always liked getting soothed this way

“Are you okay my Love ?” you asked, this time wanting him to answer better than making you wait.

You felt him nod weakly against you, his voice was hoarse as he spoke “Y-yeah…I’m fine”

“Wanna talk about it or ?” you tried again, you didn’t want him to keep something for himself if speaking about it might alleviate some of the tension.

“It’s just… ugh something t-that happens” he struggled to answer, his face a bright shade of red - just like the tomatoes he loved so much. But the reality is that he felt bad for what had happened, he didn’t want you to feel pressured because of the unexpected response of his body “I don't want you to feel forced into anything… I’m sorry” he muttered, his lips merely brushing against the side of your neck.

You frowned at his apology, you stopped playing with his hair as you pulled him up to look at you. His onyx eyes seemed to hold a genuine worry for you as if he was already cursing himself for what had happened “I don’t want you to apologize for loving someone Sasuke. Yes it can seem unusual but it’s a natural body response for you, and I love all of you not only the fierce ninja but also the vulnerable lover. So please instead of apologizing just ask me if I’m ready to take that step with you you might get surprised”

As soon as the words left your lips, his eyes seemed to widen even more if that was possible “Are you serious ?” his voice held a deep and genuine care for you “Y/n this is not something to take lightly. There will be no going backs if you-” though you shut him up with a languid kiss.

“If you’re okay with it I won’t take my pill tonight. Maybe we could start more seriously from now on if that’s what we both want ?”

As you spoke a rare and genuine small smile appeared on his face “That would be wonderful" he spoke as if he was contemplating a dream. Though the whiteness that started to trickle down from your joined bodies snapped you both back to reality “But factually you really made a mess” you couldn’t help but tease.

He felt a shiver from embarrassment run down his spine “Come on” he huffed, even if he himself knew that his mess would need some time to clean up “Hang on tight I’m going to take us back to the bathroom” his lips left a tender kiss on your forehead.

You felt his arms wrap around your back as he effortlessly carried you away from the bed who witnessed your heated encounter. From there two things that were on his mind needed to be said : cleaning up your bed was going to take at least 10 minutes and he really wanted to take you for a second round.

#naruto #naruto imagine #naruto smut #naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden imagine #naruto shippuden smut #sasuke uchiha #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha imagine #sasuke uchiha smut #sasuke x reader #sasuke smut #smutember 2023 #smut #miri-writes

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doumadono · 2 months

Note

I am a "simper" creature :3

I fall for Sanemi... EKHEM

Sooooo.... I would like to request a SMUT fic with him.

The reader is smaller and weaker, and it seems like he doesn't like her because of that. He is all annoyed and angry... BUUUT... It turns out he simply WANTS her... JUST GIBE ME A SMUT PLS!

Warnings: smut w/o plot, dom!Sanemi, possessive Sanemi, a bit of dirty talking Synopsis: because Shinazugawa-dono appears to have a problem with your every move, you're quite reluctant when tasked with changing sheets in all the Hashiras' rooms, particularly the Wind Hashira's room

DEMON SLAYER MASTERLIST

In the Ubuyashiki mansion, amidst the clanging swords of Hashiras who were training, mastering their skills, and rushing footsteps of other demon slayers, you lived a life of humble servitude. A small, delicate figure, you were often overlooked, except by one: Sanemi Shinazugawa, the Wind Hashira. You worked tirelessly around the Ubuyashiki mansion. Your duties were humble, but essential.

His gruff demeanor and constant irritation with your presence made you wary of him, always trying to avoid his scathing gaze and harsh words. The powerful demon slayer seemed to take issue with your every breath.

One day, as you were cleaning the corridors, Sanemi stormed past, his purple eyes narrowing at the sight of you. "What are you doing here?" he growled, his voice echoing off the walls.

You stuttered an apology, your heart pounding in your chest, and hurried away.

Days turned into weeks, and each encounter with Sanemi left you more flustered than the last. You couldn't understand why he seemed so agitated around you.

Occasionally, you mustered the courage to glance in his direction, marveling at his imposing presence. Yet, whenever he caught you looking, you swiftly averted your gaze.

One fateful night, you were assigned to clean the Hashira rooms. As you approached Sanemi's door, your heart pounded in your chest. You knocked once, twice, but there was no response. You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and you could hear the soft rustling of fabric.

Suddenly, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "What are you doing in my room?" Sanemi's breath was hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You gasped, your heart racing, as his other hand was placed to your hip.

"I don't recall granting you permission to enter my chamber," he snarled from behind, causing you to stiffen.

All you could manage was a hard swallow as you desperately sought a suitable apology. "Sanemi-sama, I apologize for the intrusion, but I received orders to change the sheets in all the Hashiras' rooms," you explained, gasping slightly. His hot breath brushed against the nape of your neck as he pushed your hair to your shoulder.

He spoon you around, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. The roughness of his palm against your soft skin left a burning sensation in its wake, and you gasped yet again. His muscular frame towered over you, and his strength was evident in every slightest movement of his. "Why are you always looking at me?" he growled, his voice deep and rumbling.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't help it," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you lowered your gaze. "You're… you're just so strong, Shinazugawa-dono."

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he would lash out at you. Instead, he stepped even closer, sizing your chin so you looked into his purple irises again, his gaze never leaving yours. "You think that's all I am?" he asked, his voice softer than before.

You shook your head, your breath hitching in your throat. "No, I… I don't. I just… I can't help but admire you, Sanemi-san."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "Then perhaps it's time I showed you just how strong I can be."

Sanemi's strong arm encircled your waist, pulling you close. His lips found yours in a heated kiss, a fire igniting between you. His breath was hot against your skin as the kiss broke, his scent intoxicating. "I saw every glance you sent my way," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your heart pounding in your chest. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, his desire palpable. He traced his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps rising on your skin, before he moved them to the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head.

And you never protested.

His eyes drank you in, his gaze hungry as he admired your bare skin and the curves of your breasts still covered with white bra, his rough fingertips traced down your exposed shoulders and moved to rest on your waist.

Logical reasoning abandoned you in a heartbeat when the Wind Hashira touched you like that. It was against all reason, yet it felt undeniably right at the moment. You let out a soft moan, your hands reaching for him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

"Oh, Y/N, look at ya," Sanemi chuckled darkly. He helped you, discarding his crips white shirt in haste. His muscles rippled under your fingertips, his skin hot to the touch. He kissed you again, his tongue darting into your mouth as his hand found the clasp of your bra, freeing you from its confines with ease and expertise.

He led you to his bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He pushed you down gently, his body covering yours. His clothed cock pressed against your thigh, undeniably hard and ready. He trailed kisses down your neck, his hands exploring all the curves of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

You gasped quietly.

His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the hem of your dress and pushing it up. His fingers found your clit instantly.

You gasped again, your back arching off the bed as he circled it, his touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He slid a finger inside you, his thumb continuing to work your clit.

You could feel yourself growing wetter, your body begging for more. "Sinazugawa-dono…"

"Call me Sanemi already. Done this enough by now, so enough with the formalities, especially when I' fingering your pretty, tight cunt." Sanemi grinned agains your inner thigh, watching how your cunt sucked his finger deeper inside. "Well, Y/N, I would never have assumed that you're such a needy little thing," he cooed.

The scent of his sandalwood cologne hung heavy in the air as Sanemi leaned over you, whilst his fingers were expertly exploring your cunny.

A soft moan escaped your lips, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through your veins.

His touch was skilled, each caress sending waves of ecstasy crashing against your shore. He leaned forward and claimed your lips, scissoring his thick fingers within your pussy, making your legs tramble.

Sanemi's bedsheets bore the evidence of his own desire. His hips moved in rhythm with his fingers, the friction against the sheets a feeble attempt to sate the burning need within him. His hakama pants, once a symbol of his discipline, now served as a prison for his arousal, the bulge unbearable, and you couldn't help yourself but lick your lips at the sight.

Seeing his plight, you reached out, your hands trembling with anticipation. Fumbling with the belt that held his pants in place, you dared to look directly into his eyes.

Sanemi's eyes met yours, a wicked grin spreading across his face. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear, "Do you want to help me, doll?"

You nodded, your breath hitching as you finally managed to undo the belt. With a swift movement, you pulled down his hakama, revealing the object of your desire. Sanemi's cock stood proud, straining against the fabric of his underwear, and when his fingers pushed into you again, you felt how wet you became.

With a swift motion, he pushed his underwear down, releasing his throbbing member. It stood proudly against his toned abdomen, already twitching with anticipation.

You watched, your eyes dark with desire, as Sanemi took his fingers out of you and licked them, humming at the taste of your arousal. His eyes never left yours as he plunged his fingers back into you, fucking you with a rapid rhythm.

"Aaah," you moaned, your voice barely above a whisper. "Sanemi…"

His name spoken in your soft tone was like a siren's call, pulling him deeper into his game of lust. He pulled his fingers out again, coated in your slick wetness, and used it to jerk his dick a few times. His eyes, dark and intense, never left yours. He looked at you like a predator would eye its prey, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to surrender to him.

Sanemi quickly tugged your dress down your legs. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of your panties. With a single, swift motion, he pulled them down too, leaving you completely exposed to his gaze. "Fuck, Y/N, you're beautiful," the scarred man commented, grinning.

"Sanemi," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing.

"Say my name again," he demanded, his fingers teasing your clit again. "Say it like you mean it."

"Sanemi," you moaned, your back arching as he plunged a finger inside you again; his cock twitched and a single pearl of pre-cum appeared on its slit.

"Just like that," he praised, smirking at you. "You're mine."

You opened your mouth to protest, but his lips crashed against yours, silencing any objection you might have had.

His kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth with a ferocity that made your knees weak. Sanemi positioned himself between your legs, his cock nudging at your slick entrance. He looked into your eyes, his gaze possessive. "You're mine," he repeated, before he thrust into you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as he filled you, his cock stretching you deliciously. He was big, bigger than you had ever imagined, and you moaned in pleasure as he filled you to the brim.

He began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful, his heavy balls hitting your slit with each thrust.

You cried out, your nails digging into his back as he began to fuck your pussy.

You could feel every inch of him, your body responding to his touch. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on. "Harder," you gasped, your body aching for release.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frenzied. "You're so small, so tight," he murmured, his voice filled with awe. "I could lose myself in you."

You moaned in agreement, your body moving in perfect rhythm with his. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and cries of pleasure. "Yes, right there," you cried out, as his tip hit that perfect spongy spot. Your pussy was painfully stretched, but you didn't mind.

Each thrust was a testament to Sanemi's strength, his pace fast and hard, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

But Sanemi wanted more, his lust insatiable. His voice, a deep rumble, commanded you to wrap your legs tightly around his waist. With ease, he lifted you, his cock nestled comfortably in your tight cunt, a perfect union of bodies as he got up from his bed.

You clung to him, your fingers digging into his broad , scarred shoulders, your breath hitching as he began to fuck you while standing. Each thrust was a display of dominance, his cock hitting all of your sweet spots with precision. His pace quickening, his cock moving within you with a fervor that left you gasping for air.

The scent of sex hung heavy in the air.

"Faster," you begged, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Faster, Sanemi."

Sanemi's grip on your waist tightened as he fucked you, his movements fast and brutal. Each drive sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, your moans growing louder with each passing moment. His free hand reached up, tangling in your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing your neck to his lips. His teeth grazed your skin, eliciting a moan from deep within your throat. "Mine, mine!" Sinazugawa growled like a wild animal.

The man easily tossed you up and down his fat cock as he continued with forceful, quick pace.

"I'm going to cum," you whispered, your body trembling on the edge of ecstasy. "Oh my Lord, I'm going to cum!"

"Do it," he growled, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he pounded up in your cunt. "Cum for me, little Y/N."

And you exploded around him, your body shaking in pleasure as your pussy clamped around his throbbing member. Instinctively, you slipped your hand into his snow-white hair, pulling the spiky strands.

He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum.

Yet he continued to thrust into you, his movements growing more erratic.

You could feel your second orgasm building, your body tense with anticipation. "Sanemi," you gasped, as you felt yourself tip over the edge. Your body shook with pleasure, your muscles clenching around him as he lay you down on his mattress again, thrusting deeper in your wetness, hooking your legs over his shoulders to change the angle.

He followed soon after, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he found his own release for the second time, milking your clenching, drenched walls with his thick cum. He collapsed on top of you, his breath hot against your neck. "Mine," he murmured again, his voice soft and content.

Slwoly, he withdrew his dick out of your pussy. He watched with a mixture of awe and pride as his release poured out of you, dripping down your slit and onto his sheets. A satisfied grin spread across his face, his eyes still locked onto yours. "Fuck, what a mess," he mused, and your cheeks flushed.

"I apologize," you whispered, but your words were sealed with the kiss he bestowed upon you – a kiss that proved to be the softest you had ever experienced in your life.

Sanemi rose, seemingly unfazed by his nakedness, and reached for some sheets from the bed to clean his cock, covered in your mixed releases. Throughout, his gaze remained locked with yours. After throwing the sheet onto the wooden floor, he proceeded to put on his hakama pants. "It seems you've arrived just in time to change my sheets to fresh ones, Y/N."

additional tag: @mrskokushibo - because I know you like Sanemi

#sanemi x reader #demon slayer sanemi #sanemi x you #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x y/n #sanemi smut #sanemi x reader smut #kny smut #kny x reader #dom!sanemi #sub!reader #kny sanemi #demon slayer smut #anime smut #shinazugawa x reader #kny shinazugawa #kny x you #divider by cafekitsune

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redr0sewrites · 2 months

Note

s. sub vox headcanons please…. i need that tv man so bad its not even FUNNY

YESSSS MY INBOX HAS BEEN LITERALLY FLOODED W SUB VOX EVER SINCE I MADE THAT POST HAHA

🥀Cw: smut, dom!reader, marking, overstimulation, praise, degradation

🥀 Pt 2 Sounding Hcs Here

🥀minors dni

this man is a SPOILED switch

vox genuinely thinks hes a dom until he meets you, he's used to being dominant and has probably never tried being a sub

his ego gets in the way a little at first, he thinks it's embarrassing

however, once you begin to ease him into it, he's no longer embarrassed about the fact that hes subbing... hes embarrassed about how much he enjoys it

vox is so bratty, especially in the beginning

he has to trust you a lot to truly submit, and that takes time

he'll be very demanding, he'll try to touch himself without permission, he'll boss you around, he'll directly disobey commands, all in the effort of pissing you off

little does he know that you aren't giving up

PUNISH HIM. vox has a huge humiliation kink, fuck him in front of a mirror or in his monitor room where he can see himself from all anges, its so embarrassing to him and he'll probably short circuit

better yet, video tape it (w consent ofc) and play it for him later to fluster him

vox loves it when you talk dirty, hes def the type to have a voice kink

vox is also the type to be incredibly sensitive imo, and he gets overstimulated veryyyy easily bc of that

the easiest way for to you break down his bratty, bossy layer is to overstimulate him until he's sobbing

he has to really trust you tho

as much as vox likes your degradation, he LOVES youre praise

this man is constantly under stress, and is always hungry for control, so having someone else take it away from him can be very relieving for him

tell him how good he's doing, how good he's making you feel, and his mind goes all fuzzy <3

honestly once you slip into praise vox is practically GONE, he slips into subspace so easily when it comes to the overstimulating pleasure you're providing and combined with the praising? he's done for

vox always wants his hands on you, but he's so touchy and forgets how sharp his nails are, so you often have to restrain him

he likes seeing you covered in scratches tho, and also secretly likes it when you leave hickeys or scratches on his skin. ESPECIALLY when they're visible- it ties in with the humiliation kink ig, but if anyone ever noticed or pointed it out he'd prob cause a blackout with how flustered he'd get

speaking of getting flustered, vox glitches and whimpers when he moans, and his screen will often flush or grow static-y

the lights and electronics often flicker or go out when he cums, and he often cums so hard he glitches out and cuts the wifi (much to val and vels annoyance)

vox likes receiving more than giving, and LOVES blow jobs- it can be a little hard for him to give oral (lmao) but he loves bjs so so so much

theres something so pleasurable about just laying back and doing nothing but whimper and claw at the sheets as you suck him dry, and he cries from pleasure every time

VOX LOVES IT WHEN U SUCK HIM OFF WHILE HES WORKING, BUT HE NEVER ACTUALLY GETS ANY WORK DONE AND SPENDS THE WHOLE TIME SHAKING AND TRYING NOT TO THRUST INTO YOURE MOUTH

vox is also def a squirmer, like he'll shudder and whine over the gentlest touches. y'all also have to change the bedding like eveytime you have sex cuz he literally CLAWS at the sheets and moves around a LOT

simple solution? shibari

he loves/hates being tied up because its soooo humiliating and it gives you complete control

speaking of control, he finds it really hot when you're pissed or acting dominant outside of the bedroom

sometimes (alot of times) he'll try to intentionally piss you off just so you'll fuck him senseless

at the end of long work days, he either wants to be gently praised and taken care of while you both make love or fucked absolutely senseless until he can't even remember why he was upset and can only helplessly babble and whine

vox goes incoherent super easily and it only embarrasses him more that he can't get words out

he def owns a lot (and i mean a LOT) of sex toys and likes it when u use them on him

some nights he just wants to lay back while you try them all out on him

HES INTO SOUNDING AND YES I WILL ELABORATE IF ASKED <333

just the thought of u filling every one of his holes and overstimulating him from every angle makes him horny

he def will want you to use a remote control vibrator during meetings, he gets off on the humiliation

however with all of his baggage w valentino and shit, he def likes being treated sweetly too

some days he needs to get out of his head and be forced into submission and put into place, but others he needs to be pampered and praised and treated like glass

vox is much more emotional on these days and is a lot more clingy during these softer sessions

talk him through his orgasm, he'll probably start crying and let out the prettiest whimpers- he just cant help it, you make him feel so good :(

overall, he can be both super bratty and super submissive at the same time and is one kinky mf

humiliation is absolutely his biggest kink, followed in no particular order by bondage, a voice kink, praise, marking/claiming, DRY HUMPING (again i will absolutely elaborate if asked... hehe), and being put in his place

YALLLLLL IK THIS IS SO SHORT BUT I HAVE LIKE 6 OTHER SUB VOX REQS IN MY INBOX RN WHERE I WILL DEF BE GOING INTO MORE DETAILED SCENARIOS HEHE I LOVE HIMMMMM!!! I'LL PROB DO MORE IN DEPTH LIKE GENERAL HCS FOR HIM SOON WITH HIS DOM SIDE AS WELL CUZ THIS MANS THE WORLDS BIGGEST SWITCH- ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYEDDDD FEEL FREE TO SEND IN MORE REQS >:D

UPDATE: ELABORATION (basically pt 2 w sounding hcs) HERE

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repulsiveliquidation · 2 months

Text

without you || Ona Batlle

warnings : angst w/ happy ending, i promise. mentions of illness and death. based on the poem above. enjoy :)

last night you were in my dreams

looked me in the eye

god

it felt so real

her side of the bed’s empty. there’s no note left for you in her pretty writing. her car is gone from its place next to yours in the driveway. her pillow smells so much like her, it’s almost like she’s still here. the tears. you hate the tears. they fall without your permission. they wet your pillow, “I’m sorry,” you whisper, the lump in your throat made it hard to swallow.

you roll over to her side of the bed, the cold sheets solidify your loneliness. Ona’s gone. she left this morning, bags seemingly packed for such a long time that there was a little dust bunny at the back of the closet from where she hid the duffle bags.

the sun shines into your room just a little, the window left open from the night before. you had shared a glass of wine there, laughing so loud that the old man who lived across from you yelled for you two to go to bed. his wife scolded him and apologized for his behavior, blowing you a kiss and a promise of fresh pastries she would send you the next morning.

you opened the front door and there they were, neatly packed in a little basket. they were Miguelitos, Ona’s favorite. tears filled your eyes again, picking up the pretty basket with an unsteady hand. the old lady calls from across the road and you force a smile, voice breaking when you yell a thank you in a terrible attempt at Spanish. she smiles and nods anyway, watching as you tread back into the house and she sees you wiping a tear away.

they’re still warm so you leave them on the kitchen uncovered. you call Jonatan and tell him you feel like, faking a sniffle that he doesn’t buy but he gives you the day off anyway. suspiciously, Ona calls him not three minutes later with the same excuse. normally you’d call and tell him you were both under the weather but separate calls raise flags in his mind.

you crawl back into bed and begin to sob, hot tears staining your cheeks and pillow. you pull her pillow close to your chest and try to calm yourself, knowing it was no use when all you wanted was your girlfriend to hold you close and tell you everything was going to be alright.

she had done this two times before. Ona was a perfectionist, a master of her craft. every pass, tackle, dribble, and kick had to be perfect. one loose ball that was her fault meant another hour on the pitch perfecting the pass till her toes hurt from kicking the ball. the first time you had to physically throw her over your shoulder and drag her home, having a strict conversation with Alexia as she cleaned up. you made her promise to take her health seriously or Alexia would wait for the green light from you to be benched until she bucked up.

the message got to her head for about six months until a badly timed tackle earned her a second yellow of the game and the send-off. she ran off the pitch in anger, lashing out at Vicky who was comforting her as she walked off. you were on the bench with a little ankle sprain and waddled after her with Alexia, Mapi, and Pina in tow. you were ready to give her an earful when you heard muffled sobbing in the changing room. you told the others you would handle it and they backed off, faces full of concern for their friend.

“Ona?” you called, walking into the room slowly. she wiped her tears away, trying to look like she wasn’t crying. she refused to raise her head, eyes fixed on her muddy cleats.

“Amor, it’s just me,” you comfort, sitting beside her and rubbing her back. she flinches but leans into your shoulder, crying into your pressed shirt. you rock her a little and let her cry it out, gripping your coat tight as she shook in your arms.

“shh, it was just badly timed princesa. it happens.”

“I’ve let the team down, they need me…” she cried harder, snot running down her face. you reach into your pocket and pull out some tissues, reminding yourself to ask the girls which one of them stuffed it into your pocket. you wipe her face and kiss her nose.

“the girls are fine, we’re five goals up with ten minutes to go. we’ve got this game in the bag.”

“but the next games…”

“should give you a chance to rest and regroup. you’ve been working yourself to the bone again.”

“I’ve been sloppy at training, I can’t afford to make mistakes!” she yelled standing up and storming into the showers.

you lean back and decide to give her some space to breathe, hearing the loud chattering of girls high off another win and a clean sheet. you smile and congratulate them, not wanting them to worry about their teammate. Ona comes out from the showers second to last, hair wet and cheek rosy from the hot water. you sit in her cubby patiently waiting and she kisses you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she apologizes, fiddling with her fingers. you nod and smile at her, standing up gingerly since your legs have gone numb. she changes and you notice that she’s got one of your ratty t-shirts on and your training sweats. you shake your head and walk out the door, yelling that you’d have the car warmed up for in the front in five.

she scrambles into the car and relaxes into the seat, muscles visibly melting into the warm upholstery. you drive leisurely back home, the Barcelona sunset to your left. Ona snores in the passenger seat softly, not even waking up when the scent of the Chinese takeout you pick up fills the car.

she rouses when you park in front of your house, feeling the familiar cobblestone that you have to drive over just before bringing the car into park. she smacks her lips and feels your lips press a soft kiss on her cheek.

“We’re home, my love.”

she smiles and stretches her arms, climbing out of the car sleepily. you’ve brought all the bags into the house, already cleaning out her kit bag. she rummages through the bags of food and smiles when she smells her favorite. maybe taking a break wasn’t such a bad idea.

it was as if you were here again

deep down inside me feel

Ona locks herself in her room. the sheets feel foreign, itching her skin. you always had the softest sheets, catering to her sensitive skin. the bonus was that they always smelled like you and she made sure to take deep breaths when you changed the sheets every week.

the room smelled stale too. an expected circumstance since she was rarely over here anyway. your house was closer to the pitch and she already had half the closet to herself, why make the trip every time?

there was a knock on the door about twenty minutes after she got home. she knew it was Aitana with a billion questions but all she wanted was to be alone. really she wanted to be with you but she’d fucked that up. she didn’t even know why she ran, the pressure of performing was becoming too much and she didn’t want to be a burden. she couldn’t bear to see that look of disappointment she saw glimmer over your face when she got her first red card with Barça.

the banging on her bedroom door was what woke her up hours later. Aitana mentioned breakfast in the oven and coffee in the coffee pot before the front door slammed shut. she checked her phone and there was radio silence, half hoping that you had left an angry voicemail telling her to come home. instead, she was met with her wallpaper of you holding Coco over the summer at her parent’s house.

tears pool in her eyes as she scrolls through her camera roll, swiping through all the silly photos you made her take that night. she threw her phone on the bed and screamed into the mattress, hoping deep down inside she was braver in another lifetime.

and when the light came to wake me,

and you slowly starting to fade away,

my soul was longing for you to take me,

Ona walked onto the pitch three days later, heart aching to see you. she stepped onto the pitch and spotted you talking to the girls, Ingrid slapping you on the back laughing at a joke Mapi told the group. she decides to avoid you, too cowardly to face the music. you notice her and smile but she turns away quickly, busying herself with her laces. you decide to try and corner her at the end of practice you do, needing the help of the girls to keep her from running to her car the moment Jonatan blows his whistle.

“why did you run away like that, Oni?” you ask her quietly, the rest of the team filtering out when Alexia begins to shepherd them outside.

“it’s none of your business,” she growls, tears flowing down her cheeks as she packs her kit bag. you grab her shoulder and she turns around with anger seething in her eyes. you’ve never seen hatred in her eyes before, it was unlike her; unlike your cheerful, noisy, playful but shy girlfriend.

“Ona? what’s gotten into you?” you ask, feeling tired of all the secrets she’s been harboring. for weeks you’ve been concerned about her odd behavior. she’s been making frequent visits to the medics, getting off practice earlier and staying longer sometimes, random trips to the ‘store’ for hours on end. you thought that she was planning something since your anniversary was coming up and she liked to make a big thing about it but when she left that morning it hit you that she was probably preparing to leave. this time though, it was for good.

it's her third round of dialysis this week. Ona sat in the lumpy chair of her dialysis center when her doctor walks in.

“how does it look, doctor?”

“it’s fourth-stage renal failure, Ona. you need a transplant or else you’re never playing football again. frankly, I don’t know how you’ve kept playing this long.”

“Jonatan knows.”

“I see,” he says and sits. “does your girlfriend know?”

“she’s not my girlfriend anymore.”

“did you decide that for her, or did she have any say?”

Ona looks up at him in shock. she tries not to jostle the machine as she sits up.

“How did you know?”

“you looked like you didn’t want to believe it when you said it.”

“she deserves better than,” she gestures to the machine, “this.”

“she deserves you,” he says and stands. as he walks away and Ona is about to cry, he turns and clears his throat. “she’s donated blood here before, she’s a perfect donor match.”

Ona tries to cry into her palm quietly, the weight of her decision bearing down on her shoulders.

but instead,

i must live without you,

for another day.

you wake up feeling groggy, and the sound of steady heartbeats fills the room. there’s another heartbeat that deep down sounds familiar and it puts a smile on your face.

a chilling call from Jonatan put you in this hospital bed. he explained that Ona needed a transplant and that you were a perfect match. you cried in his office, body shaking with anger at yourself more than at Ona. you knew that it ran in her family and that her age was when the onset was. the extra visits to the doctor and ‘shop’ trips all made sense now. you punched a wall on your way out dramatically, crying like a baby all the way home. you barged into her house, Aitana following behind you like a puppy.

“so you were just going to run and wait for you to die?” you yelled at her, body shaking in fury. she just stared at her fingers, fiddling with the end of the throw blanket in her lap.

“answer me!”

“you don’t deserve this!” she screamed back, tears running down her face. “you don’t deserve someone who is dying to be your girlfriend!”

tears flood down your cheeks and you hear her door click closed, Aitana in front of it.

“you had no right to decide that for me, Oni!”

“I couldn’t put you through this. if I don’t get a kidney soon, first it’ll be football then it’ll be me!”

“I know I’m a match.”

her head whips up to look at you so fast, you’re sure she’s gone and given herself another ailment.

“no.”

“I’m a perfect match, Onita.”

“I could never ask you to do that!”

“you’re not asking if I’ve already asked them to make sure it goes to you.”

“Bebé, I–”

“no, you would do the same for me. I love you too much to see you like this,” you kneel in front of her as she sits on the bed, feeling overwhelmed. “Please, Oni,” you beg with your head in her lap, “Please let me help you.”

Ona wakes up and looks over at you, sighing in relief that the surgery was a success. the nurses have pushed your beds close enough together that you stretch your arm out and she does the same, fingers laced together with an unspoken promise to face every challenge that comes your way the only way you knew was right; together.

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #fc barca femeni #fcb femeni #fc barcelona femeni #espwnt #sefutbol fem #woso imagines #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso angst #woso #woso community #womens football

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star-sim · 3 months

Text

your lips, my lips, apocalypse ☆ heeseung lee

☆ non-idol! heeseung x fem! reader ☆ summary: sex, love, and romance tasted like poison on your tongue, a secret that you held close to yourself for years. unfortunately, when heeseung kisses you, he, too, could taste that poison. ☆ genre: hurt/comfort, angst, veeery suggestive but no smut, implied college! au, unclear relationship status but can be viewed as friends to lovers ☆ warning(s)? implied s*xual abuse, hypersexuality as a coping mechanism, if youre not comfy with these topics don't read! ☆ word count: 2.0k ☆ atp im just writing my entire playlist... based off of apocalypse by cigarettes after sex <3

Heeseung should have known the moment that your first instinct was to lower your head in shame and unbutton your shirt, revealing your lacy undergarments and bare skin, because you thought your then-boyfriend was angry at you.

He should have seen the signs when you had no problem shoving your tongue down every team captain's throat for everyone to see, but danced around the topic of sex, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you clutched onto his sleeve.

He should have noticed the way you changed, how you slowly showed more and more skin, yet said less and less, shrinking into yourself whenever a pair of eyes glazed over you, almost like you were afraid.

But most of all, Heeseung should have known the moment that you attacked him with your lips, hungrily kissing him like a starved hyena.

He hated himself for realizing so late into the night.

There the two of you were, sprawled across your bed. You had your back flat against the soft, white sheets, your bare skin so pretty under the warm light. Heeseung, shirtless in his own right, hovered over you, admiring you.

Both of you were breathless, lips swollen and eyes blown out as you ached for each other, spending the last hour teasing each other.

What started as a calm night with his dear friend became an impromptu makeout session, that then became the two of you half naked in your bedroom.

The first sign should have been how you faltered at Heeseung's mindless mention of his love-life, the way your expression pinched briefly. You let out a few sad words, yet your tone was so happy that Heeseung didn't notice the way your brows furrowed, sinking your teeth into your lips pensively.

The second sign should have been the cloudy glaze over your eyes the moment Heeseung's hand accidentally brushed up against your thigh, and more importantly, the way your eyes were glued to his hand as he pulled it away, a small "sorry"falling from his lips.

The third sign was the way that you paused for a moment, giving him a confused look after you crawled on top of him, your lips attached to his neck. Heeseung's hand ghosted over your hips and waist, asking breathlessly, "Can I touch you here?"

This should have been the nail in the coffin, the way you looked so quizzical just because he asked permission to touch you.

But now as Heeseung pinned you under him, his large, doe eyes gazing down at yours, he felt his heart pound. You looked so beautiful. The sight of you under him was something that he could only dream of, but now that you were right in front of him, Heeseung felt dizzy.

All these years, he'd been waiting for his moment— to be so close and intimate with you, you who he never really escaped from.

Heeseung could feel the warmth of your skin against his, the feeling being so delicious that he wanted to bask in it forever.

As his long fingers slithered down to the hem of your panties, dipping into them, Heeseung watched your face.

Your head was thrown back, gazing up at him like he was a god. Your pretty lips were wet and parted, sucking in sharp breaths and letting out small sighs as Heeseung worked on you.

But what made Heeseung falter was the look in your eye.

He'd always known you to be bright-eyed; it was within your eyes that he could see the universe unfold before him, without a single speck of dust obstructing it.

But this time, your eyes told something different.

Earlier, they were filled with excitement and desire. But now, they were dull; storm clouds shrouded the sky that was your eyes, shedding a murky and foggy cast that was so dark that it bled onto the rest of your face.

Heeseung was no stranger to your past.

It was no secret that you had many sexual partners, almost to the point of being rumored to be a 'whore' or 'slut.'

Heeseung didn't know for sure, but he was perceptive enough to understand the link between the older boy that you dated for years in high school who was known for preying on younger girls, and your transition into being more sexually-charged. He had a feeling that your sudden change into being more sexual had something to do with the predatory nature of your relationship back then.

All this time, you'd told him that you were okay, that you'd moved on and did things because you wanted to do it, that you were no longer haunted by the memory of your sexually abusive ex-boyfriend from when you were seventeen years old.

But Heeseung could read you better than he knew.

From your eyes, he could tell that you were desperate.

Not desperate for sexual gratification or pleasure.

Not desperate to be touched.

Not desperate to be satiated by some sort of sexual hunger.

No, you were desperate to be healed, desperate to be held.

Of course. You were turning to sex to fix your problems. You were finding value in relationships and yourself through sex.

You didn't want to have sex with him.

Slowly, Heeseung removed his hands from you, pulling up your panties and getting up to find your shirt. Without a word, he slipped your shirt back onto you, his hand fixing your disheveled hair.

Sensing that something was wrong, you gently grabbed his face, pressing your lips against his. For a second, Heeseung forgot everything, only relishing in the way that your lips felt. His body was begging him to relieve him of his desire. Atlas wanted you. Oh, he wanted you so bad. He wanted you selfishly.

But Heeseung wasn’t going to have sex with someone that didn’t want it.

“No,” he mumbled against your lips as he tried to pull away. “[Name]-”

You only pulled him closer by the shoulders, squeezing them. Your lips were now crashing against his aggressively and with a passion that felt artificial. “[N-Name],” he tried to pull away. “No.”

“I just—” you said in-between kisses, “I just really want you.”

Heeseung could have easily pushed you away, given your strength difference. But he refused to hurt you. With a firm jerk, he was able to get himself free of your grip.

"I can't do this with you," was all he said.

You looked like you were about to cry. Heeseung felt a pang in his chest, but all he did was shake his head. Heeseung silently got off of you, finding his pants on the floor and slipping back into them. He went to your bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean your wet thighs up, his hands gently grasping your skin as if you'd fall apart if he was too rough.

Just as Heeseung was about to throw the towel into your hamper, you grasped onto his bicep, digging your nails into it. You looked up at him with tearful eyes, your brows knit together as you began to sniffle.

"I-I'm sorry," you whimpered. "Did I do something wrong? A-Are you mad at me?"

Heeseung immediately tossed the wet cloth aside somewhere on your bedroom floor.

"What are you talking about?" He wrapped his arms around you, pulling your head to your chest, feeling your tears stain his bare chest. When Heeseung pecked your forehead, you wailed even harder, your arms coming up to pull him closer to you, holding him like he'd save you. "Why would I be mad at you?

"W-Why don't you want to h-have sex with me then?" you shakily choked out. "Am I— Am I not good enough?"

"No," Heeseung's eyebrows crashed together, his eyes narrowing. His words were serious, but his voice was soft, as soft as a feather for your delicate ears. "I could tell that you didn't want it, Baby. I would never get mad at you for that. I hope you know that."

The sound of your sobs must have been the worst thing that Heeseung had ever heard in his life. He didn't like it one bit. Those hot tears were tiny droplets of all the pain and abuse that you've suffered from.

"I'm s-sorry," you whimpered. "I-I'm s-sorry."

What did they do to you? What have they done to you that you apologized so much?

Heeseung clenched his fists. His chest burned with a different type of anger, an anger that was so great that it was overwhelming, eating Heeseung alive and chewing him into dust. He'd kill them, he'd kill the son of the bitch that hurt you so much like this with his bare hands.

"Fuck," Heeseung cursed under his breath. In a single movement, Heeseung hoisted the both of you up, so that you were on top of him, your head rested on his chest. As tears spilled from your eyes, clinging to Heeseung, he petted your head.

Heeseung was warm, warm in a way that you couldn’t describe. You wanted to fall into him, let your eyelids flutter down peacefully, and relish in what was his essence.

You felt apologies prickle the tip of your tongue. After all, other than letting others use your body, saying sorry was the only other thing you knew how to do. You felt weak, helpless, like a wet dog at the mercy of its owner, yet you felt more sorry for Heeseung, who was now stuck with you.

“S-Sorry—“

“Shhh,” Heeseung whispered into your ear. “Don’t apologize, Baby.”

“But—“

Heeseung hushed you.

When your breath didn’t slow, in fact speeding up to the point that you were huffing in quick breaths and pushing out even shallower ones from your chest, Heeseung grabbed your hands.

It felt like the entire world was crashing down into your shoulders, hitting you all at once. Everything hurt, your body was trembling yet you couldn’t feel anything. You should be okay, right? After every one-night stand or sexual partner that inevitably used you like a doll, you were always left alone and cold. You experienced this exactly, and you’ve dealt with it every time alone. You can do it again, right? If you’ve been alone all this time, you can deal with it this time alone, too—

“Hey.”

Heeseung’s voice forced you out of your head.

“Hey,” he repeated, rubbing circles on your back. “Breathe.”

You swallowed down the sob that threatened to spill out. “I’m o-okay.”

“You aren’t,” he said simply. “I know you aren’t.”

You shook your head, pulling away from him. You wanted to shrink back into his warmth, to be sucked back into the paradise that was the comfort that was Heeseung, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. You were scared.

Why would he want to be around you? Why would he even want to have a burden of a person like you to hold? You were a mess, a wreck that had too many problems to count. You were unlovable, broken, fragmented and with missing parts because of all the men that have robbed you of your identity, your autonomy, your ability to love, and—

To your surprise, Heeseung simply pulled you back in. His hands gently slinked to your wrists, pulling you back into him. Your mind told you to run away and hide, but instinctively, you melted into him.

“Let me take care of you,” Heeseung said. His voice was calm, light on your ears in a way that made your heart ache. He took your hand again, squeezing it. “I don’t care what you say, I’m not leaving you.”

“Please d-don’t,” you whispered back, so softly that your voice was barely audible. “Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” was all Heeseung said. “You can count on it. I won’t.”

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