Tumgik
#fffffuck thank you so much
transpidered · 8 months
Text
commission for anon
agender, they/xe/xem/xer
cw: bootplay, s/m, body worship, heavy praise, free use, anal
xe always looked forward to movie night with their dom. every time he wanted to touch and tease them, but tonight he was barely paying attention to the film at all. looking at xer, grabbing their thigh. he pulls them towards him and xe climbs into his lap. he immediately starts running hands up xer body, groping their chest, biting their neck, he was getting kind of rough. pulling xer against his chest and holding xem so tight it hurts, "sorry, fuck, i dont know what youre doing to me, i just need you" he was kissing and mouthing all along xer neck
"please keep going sir"
he grabs their collar and holds xem tightly against him while he slides his hand in xer shirt, groping their tits and grinding into their ass. xe was softly gasping and moaning, their dom wasn't usually so fervent, his hands moved from pulling their collar to grabbing their hair at the scalp and using that to hold xer. his hand made its way out of their shirt and his fingers pushed into their mouth, sliding in and out, pressing softly on their tongue. he was grinding so hard that xe was bouncing in his lap
"thats it, doing so good, i need to use you, need to fuck you"
they moaned around his fingers, wishing desperately that xe could beg
"god i want this forever but im gonna go get ready, i wanna fuck you properly. go wait in the bedroom darling. i want you lubed up and kneeling when i come in"
...
he walked in dressed in all his gear, a harness, jock strap, leather boots, and xe was kneeling so perfectly waiting, "do you know what i realized darling? my boots need polished. and i thought that maybe i should go buy all the materials, spend hours doing it,,, but why should i when i have a bootslut here that loves serving me?"
"oh god yes sir"
"yes what?"
"please let me hump your boots, i promise ill do a good job sir, fuck pleasee"
"come here then."
xe obeyed so quickly their dom chuckled, sitting on their masters boot, rutting against it while wrapping xer arms around his thigh
"youre so adorable like that, being so good for me"
suddenly they felt him grab their collar and start pulling their face to his tcock, xe eagerly opened their mouth and wrapped their lips around his throbbing dick
"fffffuck thats it"
he was thrusting and moaning, watching xer rocking on his boot and using their mouth to jerk off
"such a perfect slut, i need to have you"
he pulled them away and guided them to the bed, laying them down and straddling their waist. he was looking at them with so much love, sliding his hands across xer torso, rubbing their tits, lightly grabbing their throat. "youre just so beautiful, i can't believe i get to own this"
he moved and started grinding on their thigh, continuing to caress xer. pinching their nipples, groping their hips, sliding his hand down to their ass and slowly pushing in a finger. xe gasped then sighed, and he started slowly working them open. sliding in another finger, then another, fucking them softly while they writhed and moaned. he pulled away and stood up
"get on all fours."
xe obeyed, seeing him put on a strap out of the corner of their eye. he made his way back to his prized lover and xe felt cool lube slicking their ass, xer dom's fingers rubbing it inside, "youve been so good for me havent you darling?"
"yes sir"
"say it, say 'im a good sub'"
xe loved when he did this to them, "im a good sub"
"thats it, so good, again"
"im a good sub"
his other hand grabbed a fistful of their hair while he continued to finger xer "again."
"im a good sub"
he was practically grunting out the command now, clearly worked up. "keep going, over and over"
"im a good sub, im a good sub, im a good-"
he slid his strap in their ass and started brutally pounding
"fuck yes yes yes thank you sir, im a good sub, im a goodsu b imagood sub"
"this is what good subs get, they get fucked hard and deep on their masters cock. and youve been so good, fuck i think youve earned all this and more"
his strap was so deep inside that xe saw stars. they couldnt think at all anymore, and then he started pulling their hair to slam xer further on his cock.
they moaned and whined so loud they could hardly hear the pounding anymore, their dom groaning
"take it take it take it, fuck im so fucking close, gonna cum just for you, just from how good you are"
he started slapping xer ass and that was it, xe was cumming and whining out a broken 'thank you' and 'feels good'. the dom thrusted erratically, his tcock twitching against the grinding mat as he finished.
they collapsed together in bed, panting and clinging to each other. xe was happily soaking up the soft forehead kisses while xer dom held them to his body for comfort.
184 notes · View notes
jellazticious · 6 months
Note
In your version of pepperino, what made Peppino fall for Pepperman
this is an EXCELLENT question
I wanna clear off first how I love that the fandom thinks that Peppino may have this taste in men where he likes unhinged forces of nature who knows how to handle their lover with care (PizzaBlast and Pepstavo are FANTASTIC EXAMPLES)
Secondly
it's a no drama slowburn between them. After the Tower Pepperman is just shameless with ordering pizza as an excuse to speak to Peppino and to see him. That lead to Phil being sort of like Peppino's top customer. One of those days he accepted an offer for a live drawing session, he can't say no lol, the guy makes 80% of his profits, it's the least he can do. Then this became a regular thing with them.
The "oh fffffuck-" moment was him checking out the gallery one day and actually looking at them when he used to skim past them. He liked them so much that he just sorta wanders in it. Got him to admire the talents put to make the pieces. One of the statues is of him but he doesn't remember seeing it in on of their sessions. Bro kinda went "that's cute" to some of the portraits. Pepperman found him where he's not supposed to be in. Not that there's anything embarrassing but more because as much as Phil likes him, he's still pretty much a guest at that time, boundary thing.
Let's just say Peppino likes the way he got carried out of the gallery. Sure it's still a pretty firm grasp on him but there's a tenderness to it, ironically. He didn't realize until he was trying to sleep that night. The poor bastard, it sucker punched him right in the face and it just ate him alive
Lol that's it, Interpret the rest how you like. I would like to thank @beefy-the-stronk for interrogating me so I can answer this. Brother, I owe you my fucking liver
49 notes · View notes
sirthisisa-wendys · 11 months
Note
Can I request an imagine? Can I get an imagine based on "Confessions part 2 - Usher" with either Draken or Mikey? Can you make it angsty? I don't see angst anywhere for these boys... Thank you you!! ❤️❤️❤️
Yes. Yes, I can.
Confessions: Ken Ryuguji x Fem!Reader
wc: 500
tw: angst
masterlist
It hadn't been intentional. The whole situation was one big mistake. And yet... here he is. Standing at your door... prepared to pay for his sins.
"What?" Your voice is taut, and Draken's spine straightens as you speak to him through the door.
"Can I come in?"
"No." He looks down at his shoes, the dirty sneakers scuffed from god-knows-what, and his eyes welling up with tears. They sting - the tears - but he blinks them away before he can be seen crying.
"I have something to tell you." The door opens a fraction, and Draken lifts his heavy head to see you peer out at him. Your face is scrunched up in anger, and your cheeks are tinged red. "I'm sorry..." Draken begins, his voice low and husky. "I never meant to hurt you."
"Intent means nothing right now, Ken." Hearing his government name in your mouth makes him flinch. "You did what you did."
"I--"
"I need time," you finally sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose delicately. "I need time to not see you or your face. I can't--"
"She's pregnant." The admission dooms Draken to a world without you. He can see you retreat a little into your apartment, your door creaking as it closes. "No, babe, wait--" His next move is out of desperation. That's the only way he could rationalize putting his fingers where he did. "Fffffuck!"
The door slams shut on his hand, opens, and then shuts again. Draken cries out once more as the door bruises his knuckles, each digit firmly stuffed between the door and the frame. "Open the door!"
"Get away from the door, Ryuguji," you sob on the other side, holding your own against him while Draken tries to force the door back open.
"I'm not letting you go, I won't--"
"I'm going to call the cops." Your voice is wobbling endlessly, but you're weakening. You can't cry and hold the door with your body weight for much longer. Draken is much stronger than you, and the door gives way after a while, each inch earned.
Draken stands in the kitchen of the apartment, seeing you slumped on the floor with your face in your hands. And when he hears your cries, he snaps out of his desperation-fueled rampage.
What the fuck am I doing?
"God, I..." The blood drains from his face as he backs out of the apartment, suddenly feeling incredibly sick. "I'm so sorry." He shuts the door with his good hand and then ambles down the steps toward his bike, the chilly air snapping through his hair.
He hurries home - whether out of fear of being pursued by the cops or out of shame, he doesn't know. And your face haunts Draken as he tries to go to sleep, tries to shake the fury at himself off his broad shoulders, tries to shake the feeling that he can't come back from this one.
There's no way he'll win you back, not after tonight.
63 notes · View notes
pinkiepiebones · 9 months
Text
Rebecca caught him staring. 
He had walked down to a cafe with her, for coffee and beignets. They both knew it was better for Robert to get out more, beyond just going to meetings or work. As they talked and occasionally stopped to dust powdered sugar off their shirts, Rebecca noticed Robert's eyes wander. She was much more skilled at looking at the people in her surroundings without being obvious and caught a glance of the people that had captivated her friend. Young, and obnoxiously in love. Doing that bullshit where one reached over to feed the other one, and then they'd lean in and kiss, ugh. She wanted to yell at them to get a fucking room, but reminded herself that she controlled her anger, it did not control her, and let it go. Kinda.
"Rob, wake up," Rebecca said, leaning to wave her hand in front of his face. He shook his head and blinked a few times. "Sorry," he said, reaching for his coffee. "What were you saying?"
"You completely zoned out watching those two over there be all lovey-dovey" Rebecca told him. "You were starting to cross that line from 'weird but innocent voyeur' to 'oh yeah he's thinking about skinning them alive.'"
Robert made a face. "That's a bit dark."
"I didn't say you were thinking that," Rebecca added, "just that your staring was getting creepy."
Robert ducked his head, focusing on the few uneaten beignets on the plate he and Rebecca were sharing. Rebecca leaned in again, elbow on table, fist under chin, a hint of a smirk on her lips. "So, why were ya staring?"
Robert shrugged, avoiding her investigative look. He ghosted his fingertips over his lips. "Just trying to remember the last time I kissed anyone, really."
Rebecca leaned back. "Oh."
Robert glanced at her, briefly. " 's been a while." His gazed turned to the wall decor. "Um, after my, my wife," he added, simply.
Rebecca thought for a moment. Then several emotions crossed her face, but befuddlement decided to stop and camp there. "Dude," she whispered.
"He was very nice in the beginning."
"Don't defend him!"
Robert put up his hands defensively. "I'm not, I'm stating a fact. He was great, early on. It's called 'love-bombing.'"
The two sat in one of the more awkward silences of their friendship. Rebecca made a gesture.
"The teeth...?"
The wiry man across from her shrugged a shoulder. "He never bit me." Pause. "At first."
"Fffffuck."
"Indeed." He took a bite of a beignet, hoping the sweet warmth would offset the uneasy darkness starting to squirm into his mind.
They left the cafe in relative silence and were halfway back to Robert's apartment complex when Rebecca stopped. She gestured to Robert. "C'mere."
He turned to face her, confused. She grabbed him by the collar of his T-shirt (some extremely touristy Mardis Gras tie-dye thing) and pulled him down into a kiss. Then she let him go.
"There, now you've been kissed by someone who's not a horrible fucking vampire."
Robert was frozen, bewildered. He straightened and smoothed a hand over his shirt collar. "Um, thank you?"
Rebecca waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, you're welcome, I'm the best friend you've ever had, et cetera."
"You really are."
"Yeah, I know."
30 notes · View notes
lyditheoverthinker · 1 year
Text
We can't Do without Love (Hanamaki x chubby!reader)
Word Count: 548 Tags: post-timeskip; body issues, weight talk; established relationship, hurt to comfort; suggestive Warnings: the body talk goes quite into the self-deprecating direction; sexy times implied ;>
Summary: When you feel overwhelmed by the hatred for yourself and your body, your boyfriend Takahiro comes to the rescue with all his love for you.a/n: reader refers to Hanamaki both as Makki and as Hiro because I imagined she would use the first nickname when talking casually and the second one when being more serious.
Masterlist
Tumblr media
“Fuck, I’ve gained weight.” Dressing up in front of a mirror is never easy for you. No matter if you're half naked or already dressed up, there's always something that feels off.
“Fffffuck!” You did somewhat know you had been gaining weight. You knew you were eating too much─thanks, stress-eating─and you knew you had been feeling your pants being a little too tight lately.
You had been able to ignore it for a little, stressed as you are already, not having the time to focus on that, too. You had been hoping that the fat would just magically go away.
But now the realisation hits you all at once and you can't help but see your body as big, ugly, deformed.
“Bee, what’s wrong?” Takahiro, your boyfriend, your precious, beautiful boyfriend, snaps you a little out of your head with his question. His voice is distant, coming from the bathroom where he's finishing shaving.
“I gained weight,” you complain from the bedroom.
“So?” His question is not what you expected.
“So… I’m fat!”
“So?”
What is he, a parrot, now?!  “Makki, are you doing it on purpose?”
“What do you mean?” He finally joins you in the bedroom, his shirt off and a towel on his shoulders.
You stare at him and feel like crying. “Don’t you find me ugly?”
His reaction would make you laugh if you weren't in such a bad mood. Brows dramatically furrowed, lines on the forehead showing, lips pursed in a pout.  “Why would I find you ugly?”
Instead of talking, you just grab your love handles and move the jiggly parts slightly.
Takahiro chuckles. “Are you kidding me?” He pulls you close for a hug, looking at you through the mirror. “First of all”─he grabs your chin and directs it toward the mirror─“this is the cutest face I’ve ever seen and nothing will change my mind.” He stops talking to give you a kiss on that same cheek, and you squirm when he moves down to your neck, tickling you with his nose.
“And secondly, this─” he takes hold of your love handles and caresses them softly─“this only means I have more of you to touch.”
One could think he’s being condescending, but the tenderness in his eyes, the gentleness of his movements, they both tell you otherwise.
“Thanks, Hiro. I still feel like shit, but a little less because of you.” You relax a little in his hug, basking in his warmth.
Takahiro chuckles. “I’ll have to make do with that for now.” Then, his hands slide upward, silent across the cotton of your shirt, and cup your breasts gently.
“What are you doing? We have to get ready!”
“Mmh… What if we skip dinner tonight?” Takahiro kisses you on your nape. “I’ll take you tomorrow, I promise.” There is slyness in his tone and determination in his eyes when he looks at you again through the mirror.
“Oh, come on…” You look at him without turning, but that is your last opposition. In a matter of seconds, you turn and hold him tight, kissing him deeply and chuckling when he gropes your ass.
“What would I do without you,” you murmur between kisses as Takahiro pulls you to the bed.
“I could say the same,” he replies, a smirk on his face as he pulls your skirt down.
52 notes · View notes
dragonselfship · 11 months
Text
happy mermay heres a drabble
winter/cassandra, mermaid au, only warning is for blood/injury but nothing super scary, almost drowning
His toes grip over the side of the dock he’s standing on, and he watches the tendons in his feet flex with the movement. It’s impossible to tell if “getting fresh air” is helping any with his muddled mental state, especially considering where he’s at- Romania, where it’s always cold, always foggy, always wet.
Today was no exception, and it might even be worse by the sea, he decides. The air is borderline acidic, the smell of brine and salt burning his nostrils, the heavy fog obscuring his view of the horizon. He takes a deep breath in and wrinkles his nose.
He’s about to shrug his shoulders and try to find his motivation elsewhere when he hears a shriek, drawn out and inhuman, from deep within the fog around him. It sends goosebumps erupting across his humidity-sticky skin, from his scalp to his feet, and roots him to the spot for a solid ten seconds before he bolts.
Or, tries to- his feet slip almost comically on the algae-slick wood of the dock, sending his legs out from under him as he tries to turn and run. He barely has time to grunt in pain, much less take a breath, before he’s tipping backwards- arms flailing as he falls into the frigid ocean below him.
His body seizes as the freezing water envelops him, knocking what little air was left in his lungs straight out. He attempts to inhale on pure instinct, and chokes and flails as his mouth and throat is flooded with burning salt water. He can swim, he can swim, he just- he pulls the surface toward him, kicking his legs and trying not to breathe despite the vehement screaming of his lungs and throat- his entire body is burning as what he thinks might be unconsciousness creeps along the edges of his vision and then he’s out, head bursting out of the water as he attempts to float.
After a few desperate, painful breaths, he surveys his surroundings- blinking the stinging water of the sea out of his eyes. He’s just below the dock, not far from shore; he’ll be fine, all things considered but fuck if his heart wasn’t beating so hard it hurt. Vision still bleary, he slowly begins to swim himself to shore- he’s almost in the shallows when a hot, painful burning begins to make itself apparent in his left leg. . . It’s so unlike the freezing water around him that he fumbles, attempting to reach for his foot on instinct before shaking his head. He needed to get on the shore- who knew what was in this fucking ocean.
He finally reaches the bank, bone-deep relief flooding his system when his feet find the fluffy sand of the beach as it crawls from the ocean. He borderline collapses onto the actual beach, dry and gritty and so much warmer compared to the depths of the sea.
That’s when the pain sets in fully.
He must’ve- Jesus, that’s a lot of blood. He must’ve sliced his foot wide-fucking-open when he slipped, because he is quite literally trailing blood out of the water and onto the sand. He swallows, and it burns, and so does his foot- god, his foot hurts. He licks his lips and tries to survey the wound but it’s bleeding so much that he can’t even really see where the gash starts and ends.
“Fffffuck. Okay.” He hauls himself into a sitting position, baring his teeth as the burning only sets in more and more and more.
He shucks his shirt off, knowing that’s only sucking up his body heat- wrings it out the best he can before tearing it apart with his teeth. Thank god he wore something old when he drove here- he’d be so crushed if this were one of his band tees.
He ties the tattered remains of his shirt as tight as he possibly can around where he thinks the cut is, securing it with what could pass as a knot if you didn’t look too hard.
“Okay. Okay.” He wasn’t gonna bleed out. It was probably a pretty small wound, all things considered. He bleeds a lot, for some reason. It’s always been that way.
After a few deep breaths, he hauls himself to his feet and limps, teary-eyed, to his car. Thankfully it was his left, not right foot.
He gets stitches, walks on crutches for a bit, gets excited about the scar; life goes on.
.
.
.
.
.
When he returns to the beach 3 weeks later, he’s wearing shoes.
It’s sunny- about as sunny as it gets in Romania, and there’s a nice breeze. He feels calm, settled- although it’s a little eerie to be back where he was bleeding profusely not even a month prior. All the blood is gone, which doesn’t really surprise him. The tides refresh the sands and whatnot.
He’s humming, approaching the shore around the spot he thinks he remembers collapsing at- no disrupted sand, no blood, nothing. Which, again, doesn’t really shock him- it’s just. . . Odd. Something weird for his psyche to deal with.
He hadn’t had time to really familiarize himself with the beach the last time he came, and he didn’t really want to at the time either- but now he does. He has the time, and the energy.
So he crouches by the shore, dips his hand into the foamy green water as it washes up quietly by his ankles. A sharp stinging greets him- like when you get salt in a. . .
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He laughs, pulling his hand out of the water. His thumb is bleeding, blood pooling by the cuticle from where he was picking at it earlier. Bad habit. He sighs and puts it in his mouth, sucking at the wound.
It is a nice beach. Quiet, secluded- it’s a wonder more people don’t fish here, considering the dock and all. There’s barely a sign of life or human activity aside from the dock. That should be off-putting, but it doesn’t really deter him. . . He lets his eyes linger on the old wooden structure, the slippery pillars covered in algae and barnacles. . .
The unmistakable shape of a head peeks out of the sea underneath the dock, glowing yellow eyes reflecting against the rippling water. It’s so close to a pillar you might miss it, but the eyes- the eyes stand out against the shadows far too brightly for it to hide.
“What the fuck. . .” He mumbles, standing slowly and taking steps backwards even slower. Goosebumps crawl up his back- the same shivering feeling of dread that he felt three weeks ago overtaking him, when he heard the scream.
It’s- it’s weird though, because he’s almost rooted in place by it- by the soft glow of its eyes. It’s almost hypnotizing- Which is why he doesn’t realize the creature has come closer until it’s pulling itself onto a rock by the shore.
“You’re the one who bled,” It- she speaks, voice watery and whispery but undeniably feminine.
He remains silent and stupidly still, slowly taking in what he can see of her body- she has inky black hair, and a lot of it. It sticks to her face and cascades down her shoulders, dripping water. Her- her arms and face are mottled brown and black, shiny, scaled? And it fades off into a lighter tan as it reaches her throat, chest, and stomach. Her eyes are pitch black save for the pupils- they’re yellow. They’re the yellow glow he saw, underneath the dock, and they continue to transfix him.
She smiles slowly, all teeth- needle-point teeth, like some sort of deep-sea terror. “I almost had you. You’re very lucky, manthing.”
The one singular gear in his head clunks into motion, and he realizes she’s talking about when he fell off of the dock. She almost had him.
“Your blood saturated the water. . . I could taste it from miles away,” She continues, monotone and whispery and almost soothing in a way; she had the kind of voice you’d hear in an audiobook. Or ASMR. “It’s a shame you didn’t stay for longer.”
What do you even say in a situation like this? How do you make conversation with a mermaid who has apparently tasted your fucking blood? And hungers for it?
He’s. . . Safe on the shore, he thinks. If he wasn’t, he’d probably be dead by now. This boldens him, slightly.
“So. . . You’re like a shark?” He tries, hesitantly. Her smile grows.
“Mm, you could say that,” She hums, resting her chin on her crossed arms. “We share similar tastes, but they aren’t quite as tactful. Formidable foes, the big ones.”
“Yeah, I just meant the like- the blood. You can, you know-“ He gestures vaguely, nerves (understandably) getting the best of him. “Smell it.”
“A drop of blood is like thunder, the way it disrupts our senses.” She murmurs, eyes boring ruthlessly into his own. He finds it near impossible to look away.
“Our? There’s more of you?”
“You could come find out.” She truly grins, now, exposing to him the entirety of her teeth and pale gums. His stomach flips, but it’s not all fear- She’s. . . Really pretty. . .
“Nah, I’ll- I’ll pass,” He laughs nervously, taking his first proper deep breath in like, ten minutes. Jesus Christ. What the fuck.
She laughs, too, and it’s eerie and hollow but a familiar sound of mirth all the same, and it gets to him! What was it, with the sirens and their allure and all the dead sailors who were promised like, their greatest desires. . .
“Good answer, manthing,” She croons, pushing herself back up on her arms as she prepares to dismount the rock she’d been speaking to him on. “Until we meet again.”
“Wait!” He blurts, actually taking a step forward in his moment of deliberation. “What’s- What’s your name?”
Her eyes flash, and she regards him silently for a moment before speaking.
“Cassandra.”
She barely makes a splash when she returns to the water.
5 notes · View notes
katieebaby1096 · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
A/N: this pic posted by @kylorenxreader inspired me to write this fic. At first it was a one shot but I’ve decided to make it multiple chapters! I hope you all enjoy!
You find yourself getting into trouble with the commander and eventually end up in a sticky situation.
Warning: explicit content, smut, lack of aftercare, read at your own discretion.
18+ only
Eternal Shine Pt. 1
There’s just something about Her
You’d been with the First Order for a whole year now and it wasn’t going quite how you thought it’d be. The first month or two passed by seemingly boring, however as more time went on and you long to catch attention from a man, the only attention you’d gotten yourself is from the commander himself. You’d managed to get yourself in trouble with Commander Ren 9 times between the third and fourth month. It all started when one night on a raid you had accidentally shot a civilian who was resisting arrest. The commander had stopped dead in his tracks and as if reading your mind he stormed up to you and said, “you feel bad and regret shooting a traitor girl?”
“No, commander Ren, sir!” You quickly replied.
“You can’t lie to me..KT-8696. Report to captain phasma after we land to receive your punishment for disrespecting your Commander.” He hissed in his mechanical voice.
After receiving 5 lashings and 2 days of cleaning duty you’d tried your best to shape up but it seemed at least twice a week you’d managed to stumble into trouble with the commander. It’d been nearly two weeks with no instances of trouble and you’d had a feeling that whole day that something was amiss. You were walking down the hallway, making your way to the dining hall barely paying attention when you had ran into what felt like a wall. Looking up, you find yourself looking into the maskless face of none other than a very angry looking Commander Kylo Ren.
“You really just can’t stay out of my way can you? You stupid girl,” he spat at you as he backed you into the wall, you remained speechless.
“I think you like getting in trouble hmm? Not getting enough attention? The lashings just not teaching you anything?” His hand reached out to tightly grasp your throat.
“No sir, I don’t mean to cause you trouble,” you barely croaked out before trying to gulp in more air. You were taking in his appearance as he processed what you’d said. He had beautiful amber colored eyes, a big nose, plump red lips and creamy skin decorated by a few slight beauty marks. He was stunningly beautiful and as his hand tightened more completely cutting off your air you felt a heart blossom in your core. If this is how you go then at least you’ll die looking at the most beautiful thing in the galaxy. A sadistic grin shaped on his lips then.
“This is getting you off,” he let out a quiet chuckle before removing his grip and grasping onto the hair on the back of your head, “alright then, whore, I’ll teach you a little lesson myself,” He whispered almost to himself as he pulled you along down the hallway.
Several minutes and two elevator rides later and you were being pulled through a big black door and thrown to the floor.
“Stand up,” he demanded.
“I’m sorry Sir, I just don’t understand..?” He quickly moved to stand over you and crouched to grasp you by your throat again.
“You are going to be my little pet tonight. I can sense your arousal, practically smell your pussy dripping into your panties.” He let go of your neck and offered you his hand to help you stand.
“Take off your clothes,” you did as he instructed, slowly removing each item of armor and clothing until you were left standing in your white thong. His eyes roamed over your thick hips and thighs, up to your small waist and large breasts then stopped on your face. You had let your fingers linger in the waistband of your thong nervously.
“These as well sir?” You’d asked meekly. His lip quirked up on one side showing a dimple in his cheek as he slowly nodded
“Those too.”
“Yes sir,” you whispers hesitantly. He sat there observing your fair, freckled face as you pushed your thong passed your hips and let them drop to your feet. He had only ever seen you with your helmet on, Kylo hadn’t any clue how beautiful you were or how curvaceous your small body was.
“Go lay on the bed,” he instructed pointing to the bed situated directly in front of the window.
You obeyed willingly plopping down on the extremely neat sheets and laying back, letting my knees fall apart instinctively.
“Look at you, I can see your juices glistening as it drips from your pretty little cunt.” He spoke firmly as he sauntered to you and dropped down on the bed over you, pulling your legs into his hands.
“Do you want me to touch you, girl?”
“Yes sir!” He smiled widely at my gasping response.
“Good,” he whispered before leaning back on his heels and pushing your legs forward so your ass and pussy were in perfect height with Kylos face. You could practically feel his breath on your wet, virgin cunt as he looked at it drip. You felt his large nose nudge your clit, eliciting a moan from deep within you.
“You smell so sweet, let’s see how you taste shall we?” He licked a wide, wet stripe from your clit down to your entrance as he looked down into your eyes, surprise striking his his features as his tongue begins to enter you.
“A virgin hmm? today must be your lucky day,” he said as he released your ankles and moved to lay beside you. His hand goes to your neck before sliding down between your breasts, over the slight swell of your chubby belly and dives between your thighs to cup your sensitive mound.
“Im not going to promise I’ll be gentle but I’ll try to make it as comfortable as possible,” he said with a dark look in his eyes.
“Yes sir,” was all you could manage to get passed your lips.
His fingers slipped into your delicate, silky folds making slow circles around your clit. He leaned in close and put his soft lips on your aggressively when he pushed a finger into your pulsating hole. Pulling back he looked into your eyes while starting to slowly pump his finger in and out. You could help but let out soft moans as the heat in your core grew.
“Look at me,” he demanded. Once you obliged he plunged a second finger into you pushing and pulling faster. You felt yourself tense up and wince at the intrusive feeling. He must’ve noticed as he slowed his pace and began massaging your clit with his thumb. The heat within was growing quickly now as Kylo pulled moans and groans from your lips that you didn’t know were possible. His head dropped to the crook of your neck and began sucking at the sensitive skin, “oh, Kylo, it feels so..” you could even get the words out as your pussy began to pulsate on his fingers. He pulled away then and looked at you writhing under him as you climbed closer to the edge, “ready for another one?” You gripped his bicep tightly as he inserted a third finger and quickening his pace.
“I want you to come hard on my fingers, you don’t want to disappoint your commander do you princess?” You shook your head as more moans left you, you were teetering on the edge now.
“I want to cum for you sir!” You whined out, “please sir, please make me cum!” You begged.
He pulled his fingers from you then and stood up.
“Wait, I thought..” you mumbled out, embarrassed at how desperate you must have sounded.
“On your knees trooper,” he commanded.
“Yes sir,” you scrambled to your knees as he approached you. He stopped just in front of you, crotch just in front of your face.
“Undress me,” he demanded, gesturing to his clothes.
“Yes sir,” you wasted no time practically ripping his clothes off until he stool in front of you, naked, letting his long and thick cock poke you.
“Get back on the bed, hands and knees.”
You happily obliged, ignoring the pestering nerves causing your hands to shake. You posed yourself as he’d commanded and waited for contact, not expecting the sharp slap he gave to your right ass cheek.
“Count.”
“One.” You blurted out.
Smack.
“Two.”
Smack
“Three.” His smacks got more intense as he kept going.
Smack.
“Four!” You’d wailed out this time.
Smack.
“Five!” You cried out, clenching your thighs together at his harshest hit.
“Good girl,” he spoke lowly now as he rubbed the redness of your cheek. You felt his hand on the center of your back pushing you towards the mattress.
“Are you ready?” He asked, rubbing the head of his cock along your folds getting it wet with your juices.
“Yes sir,” you whispered.
He pushed into you then going in all the way until he couldn’t go any deeper, letting out a deep groan at your loud gasp. He rested there for a minute letting you adjust before pulling all the way out and slamming right back in and repeating this over a few times. You bit your lip drawing blood to keep from howling at the burning sensation from the stretch. He abruptly stopped his movements and you felt his hand snake into the back of your hair and he pulled you back into him, letting go of your hair to wrap his arm around your waist and travel between your breasts to rest on your neck.
“I’m going to make you cum on my cock,” he whispered into your ear as his other hand snaked down to your mound rubbing quick circles on your clit. He began to pound into you again holding your back against his chest drawing you back to an orgasm, you slick making each thrust easier and feel so much better. His fingers on your clit and his cock pulsing in and out of you bringing you right to the edge, “I know your close princess. I’m gonna cum in this pussy while you cum on this cock!”
“Oh Kylo, it feels so good,” you blurt out, “I’m gonna-I think I’m gonna cum sir! Please make me cum!” His pace became almost murderous as he pounded into you, rubbing your clit furiously, “cum-oh god- fuck your so fucking tight- fuck fuck fffffuck! Cum on this cock right now!” He growled into your ear, pushing you over the edge.
“Ohhhhhh! Gods yes! Thank you commander sir! Oh fuck!” You yelped out. He helped you ride out your orgasm before he pulled out of you. You looked over to see him putting his underwear and pants on before throwing your clothes and armor at you.
“Get dressed and get out. Next time you give me trouble, I won’t be so nice.” With that he left you to get dressed. You’d waddled back to your quarters that night with mixed feelings of loneliness and pride. Unbeknownst to you, Kylo Ren had waited til you left to take his clothes back off and stumble into his bed and replay everything he’d just done. He laid there under his strewn about sheets that smelled of peaches and cherry blossom just as you had, thinking about how beautiful you were. You had the most beautiful eyes that he’d swear had eternal shine that he’d never forget.
There was something about you that drew him to you. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he intended to figure it out.
—-
It had been a month since your last interaction with the commander and you were feeling confident. In that time you’d managed to go on 3 dates with a guy named RC-2242, youd even gone so far as to let him into your bed. Unfortunately for you he was nothing like Kylo Ren, he had a rather small cock and he didn’t know jack about pleasing a woman. Of course after a month of staying out of the commanders way you were bound to run into him. Unfortunately it happened to be on a night that you’d gone out with good ole RC-2242. The two of you were nestled into a booth having a drink when you’d felt his eyes on you, sure enough there he was across the bar in all his masked glory but you could still feel his honey eyes boring into you. All you could muster was an awkward smile and wave. Before you even knew he had stomped over to your table, “KT-8696, please report to my office immediately.” He stomped out of the bar without another glance in your direction.
“Well,” you sighed,”I suppose I probably found myself some trouble somehow. I hope you can excuse me, I’ve got to go.”
“Of course! The commander is not someone I’d keep waiting!” He replied coolly before kissing your hand and watching you go.
What could I have possibly done now?
I’ve stayed out of his way, haven’t even seen him in a month for goodness sake!
Your mind ran wild as You made your way to the commanders office. Trying to think of things you might’ve done to upset him. It hit you then as You arrived in front of his office door. He’d seen you out with RC-2242. Just as you’d stopped about to know the door slid open revealing a maskless Kylo Ren with a very nasty look on his face.
“You and I need talk,” he said seriously, anger radiating from his glare on the small purple bruise at the base of your neck.
105 notes · View notes
belliesandburps · 3 years
Text
Quick-Fic:  Hot-n-Cold (Aidan x Isole Post-Stuffing Fic)
I’ve been busy with writing the interactive fic, patreon pieces as well as some of my remaining commissions.  And it’s been a good hot minute since I’ve written anything for my OC’s, so I thought I’d write a really short quickie featuring my kinky fire-n-ice duo, Aidan and Isole.  :P
“BRRREEEEEUUUUURRRRAAAAAAPH!!!!!” 
Isole's soft, ghostly white face grew several shades pinker upon watching his boyfriend slump back on the couch and belch heavily.
The boyfriend in question, Aidan, sighed contently and gave his taut, bloated belly a couple of hearty pats of satisfaction, each pat giving off this satisfied thumping sound, like slapping a big, ripe watermelon.  “Gruuh...fuck, I’m stuffed...” Aidan growled, running his hand up and down his bare swollen stomach.  It stuck out by a little over a foot.  His normally tight and concave abs had been incredibly thinned out, now barely visible over the very noticeably distended middle.
His bloated stomach emitted a deep gurgle.  Feeling another burp coming on, Aidan smacked his chest and threw his head back, letting loose another big, throaty burp that sent a small plume of fire spewing out of his mouth for almost three seconds.  Isole’s blush grew brighter at that crude display, especially the fiery part...
“Excuse you,” he teased in his youthful yet calming voice, before sliding over to Aidan nestling up against him.
Aidan blew smoke out of his mouth and right into Isole’s face, smirking a fang-filled, cocky smirk at his younger boyfriend, muttering, “Tch, y’know ya love it...”
Isole fanned the smoke away from his small nose and coughed slightly, blushing...a little more brazenly, and responded with, “Am I complaining?”
To emphasize his point, Isole placed his small, chilly palms directly over Aidan’s taut, burbling gut.  The young cryomancer slowly ran his right palm up and down that firm, watermelon-sized belly, listening as it burbled pleasantly with the sensation.  His hand reached the upper crest of Aidan’s distended stomach, then glided down to his tight underbelly, stroking its smooth surface from side to side.
Aidan shuddered at the feeling, moaning shamelessly as he slumped back and made his bloated stomach push out a little more.  “Ohhhhh gods...” Aidan groaned, smoke spewing from his maw as his boyfriend continued tending to his middle.  “Dude, yer hands are like magic sometimes, I swear to the fuckin’ sun gods...”
“So you’ve said,” Isole teased, patting Aidan’s belly and shuddering at how good each thump felt against his palm and how much better it sounded.
Isole leaned down a little, resting his head against Aidan’s bulging belly.  The intense warmth radiating from Aidan’s flesh contrasted Isole’s ice cold body, becoming this relaxing, almost inviting kind of warmth.  And the gurgling emanating from Aidan’s overstuffed stomach was music to Isole’s ears.  He could hear that powerful organ breaking down a meal large enough to more than comfortably feed a dozen or so people. 
The churning was so rich and intense that Isole could practically envision himself inside of Aidan’s belly.  It would be such a tight fit, hotter than the desert sun, and reeking of brimstone.  He could picture the fleshy yet slimy organ all around him, rippling as it churned heavily, pleased with its meal.
Isole wasn’t sure why his mind always went there, but it never failed to leave him shuddering in a pleased sort of way.  He lovingly traced his finger across the center of Aidan’s belly, circling across his shallow navel.  Aidan bit his lower lip and groaned with pleasure at the feeling.  His navel was always especially sensitive, and the feeling of that cool index finger sliding inside of his bellybutton and tracing around inside of it never failed to rile Aidan up.
“Fffffuck, that’s good...” Aidan growled, gripping at the couch as Isole played around with his navel.  That pleased growl intensified when Isole’s chilly lips pressed down against Aidan’s bellybutton with a loving kiss.
After pulling his finger out, Isole was leaning against Aidan’s lap at this point, using both hands to knead into Aidan’s taut stomach.  His hands groped that warm, bulging belly while his fingers dug into that drum tight flesh.
The kneading caused Aidan’s stomach to burble and churn heavily.
In response, Aidan threw his head back and released a deep, brassy belch.
“BRRRAAAAAAUUUUURRRRRAAAAAAAAAPH!!!!!!!!!”
A small cloud of smoke spewed out of Aidan’s mouth along with his stomach gases.  Isole subtly sniffed at the brimstone-scented eructation and blushed, pressing down into Aidan’s belly even harder...
“HOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUURRRR-UUUUUUUURRRLLLOOOOORRRPH!!!!!!!”
A massive, HEFTY-sounding belch rolled out of Aidan’s maw, causing more smoke to spew out from his throat as that deep burp blasted past his fang-filled maw.  The crass eruption hitched in Aidan’s throat halfway in before the rest of the smoke-laden gas poured out of him with a greater deal of rumble, thanks to the way Isole pushed his knuckles into Aidan’s belly mid-burp.
Aidan gasped when it ended and glared down at Isole with a growl.
“Tch, lil punk...”
“You have to admit, those probably DID feel good to get outta your tummy, wouldn’t you say?”  Isole asked with an innocent, albeit flustered sort of smile.  Just to emphasize his point, his palm pushed down against Aidan’s jam-packed gut firmly.
Aidan grimaced and brought a fist to his mouth, muffling a HUGE burp in his mouth, one which rumbled in his cheeks for a good few seconds and had Aidan squinting hard from the sheer volume of gas rolling up his throat all at once.  When it passed, he breezily blew a considerable amount of smoke past his lips.  Aidan huffed, then thumped his chest, letting loose a deep afterburp, then rolled his eyes.   “...Ugh, don’t fuckin’ say ‘tummy’, dude.  What are ya, six...?”
“Would a six year old do this?”  Isole asked with a sly smirk on his face before leaning down and slowly running his tongue across Aidan’s navel, licking his bellybutton firmly and shamelessly.
Aidan’s grumpy expression immediately shifted as he bit his lower lip and moaned.
“Ngh...that’s not fuckin’ fair, ya punk...”
Isole smacked his lips and grins a flirtatious sort of grin up at his boyfriend, drumming his fingers across Aidan’s tightly stuffed stomach, adding, “Is it my fault I know all your buttons?”  He tapped his index finger over Aidan’s bellybutton a few times to punctuate his point.
“I’mma pay ya back fer that, ya kinky lil fucker...”
“Don’t tease me with a good time,” Isole responded, eager for any kink-related retaliation...
29 notes · View notes
Get To Know Me Tag
Rules: Answer the questions and tag people you want to get to know better! Thank you for the tag @eternal-infamy, I’ve already done it a handful times, but since I can’t recall what f’ing blog I did it on, I’ll roll with it XD
Favorite color: Any shade of blue really, but more specifically, the color of Andy’s hair. It’s a shade of Turquoise. I call it simply ‘Andy blue’.... he calls it ‘Boom-bastic-fantastic-unicorn-blue’  do with that whatever you want XD
Currently reading: Shit, I just finished a book this morning, so I am in between reads, and I am actually using the same trick as you, re-reading old stuff, to get back into the rhythm of reading. Ugh I have a large heavy book standing with Edgar A. Poe’s collected work that I’d really love to read next, but I’m contemplating if it’s a terrible idea? I’ve tried twice already, and unfortunately never made it past 1st chapter, cause his writing really tucks at my depressive/dark side. I just feel I end up getting sucked into this deep dark abyss of depression and despair to a point where I feel like nothing matters and I might as well walk off a ledge XD you know? So yeah, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to read it from cover to cover. I probably will one day. And then walk off a ledge. XD
Last song you listened to: Fffffuck.... uhm... gonna go find my playlist tab in my sea of tabs, and tell you XD brb.......... SURPRISE: Gorillaz - Meanwhile
Last series you watched: Uhhh... it’s incredible rare I watch series, but I actually know the last series I watched, it’s called Unsolved Mysteries, on Netflix.
Sweet, spicy or savory: Can’t do much spice due to my stomach, but I’d love for that to slowly change, cause spice if definitely my favorite. I also have to be a bit aware of what sweet I eat, so savory.
Craving: Change in scenery. Love. Closeness.
Tea or coffee: Tea. Coffee makes me feel like I’m getting a heart attack. Otherwise I’d prefer that.
Currently working on: My future.
18 notes · View notes
sadmages · 3 years
Note
just gotta let you know that a: my latest obsession song is Curses, b: holy fffffuck. ho ly fuckin g shit. i keep WATCHING your animatic (when i'm not frantically listening to tma) and OH I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT SO MUCH ALL THE DETAILS I- i know i screamed about it before but it's gonna be in my head for a WEEK
GOOD YES ITS SUCH A GOOD SONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Listen to their other stuff afterwards too its all very nice :]
(AND THANK U AGAIN Ghjfhgdfg)
21 notes · View notes
shallow-gravy · 3 years
Text
Tumblr media
Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10 / Ch. 11 / Ch. 12 / Ch. 13 / Ch. 14 / Ch. 15 / Ch. 16 / Ch. 17 / Ch. 18 / Ch. 19 / Ch. 20 / Ch. 21 / Ch. 22 / Ch. 23 / Ch. 24 / Ch. 25 / Ch. 26 / Ch. 27 / Ch. 28 / Ch. 29 / Ch. 30 / Ch. 31 / Ch. 32 / Ch. 33 /
Word Count: ~4660
A/N: Thank you as always to my boo @actuallyhansolo​ for giving this her seal of approval and assuring me multiple times it wasn’t garbage
Warnings: naughty language, suicide ideation
XXXIV. Boom Boom
                              __________
     I'm gonna shoot you down      Right off 'a your feet      Until you're home with me
     Put you in my house      Boom, boom, boom, boom      I love the way you walk      Especially how you talk
     'Cause when you whisper in my ear      And say "Johnny I love you"      I love that talk
          -Big Head Todd and the Monsters, Boom Boom
                              __________
Diana rolls over onto her side, readjusting herself and shoving an arm in beneath her pillow. 
John’s pillow. 
She’d finally, numbly agreed to take another Valium and have a shower when the weight of physical and emotional exhaustion became almost crushing. And he’d locked her in here after that; some kind of a compromise for her wanting to sulk—alone. Her eyes had immediately searched for the ham radio she’d seen on his desk and only landed upon empty space. He’d obviously had it removed from his bedroom before they’d arrived. 
She’s not sure how long it’s been or what he’s been doing in the meantime. Time feels frayed, disjointed. It could have been one hour or several already for all she knows. John could have been plotting with his brother this whole time; her friends could all be dead.
You keep calling them your friends. 
Diana still can’t escape him, even when he’s not in the room with her. His words have permeated her thoughts, settling and sinking roots.
He’s right, he’s right, he’s always right.
No. No, Jess is your friend. Grace, too. They’ve seen you, more of you than you ever wanted to show. And they still care. 
But would they if circumstances were different? Maybe. Maybe not. 
They certainly won’t if they ever find out about this fucking entanglement she’s gotten herself into. 
Let it out. This is catharsis I am offering you.
I am the one who sees you.
She lets out a miserable growl, rolling back over and yanking the pillow out from beneath her head so that she can smother it over her face. All she wants is to be able to drift into unconsciousness. Far away from thinking about how fucking helpless she is; about all those people at the jail, about John, about Liliana.
She’d be so disappointed in you.
The prevailing ambient thought creeping in and out of all the darkest corners of her mind keeps telling her to get up. Get up and search his desk for a gun, a letter opener or an exacto knife, even a fucking pen would do. 
Anything to make it all disappear. 
And here she thought she was all cried out; dried to the bone, empty of all but dust. She feels tears gathering in her eyes again, though, at the thought. 
A good way to let everyone down one last time. 
The thing is, the Resistance doesn’t need her, they never did. She causes more problems for them than she solves. How many times has she needed rescuing? How many lives has she put at risk, how much more blood can she stain her hands with? 
Enough will be enough when you’re so fucking deep in it you’re choking. Better to stop it before it gets worse. 
Better. It would be better. 
Diana removes the pillow from over her face. 
She sits up mechanically, the heavy blanket pooling around her waist before she pushes it aside. 
There’s no way to beat them; you take an inch and they take back a mile. They have an army, a goddamn fanatical one. If you’re gone—maybe these fucks will go easy on everyone else. Maybe there won’t be any more Hollys or Pratts or Burkes. All you did was make it worse for them.
She’s across the room before she even registers the movement of her own body, like she’s been forcibly evicted from it. Watching like a ghost from the corner as nothing useful stands out on top of the desk, so the woman with all the bruises and deep, dark bags beneath her eyes - who’s too skinny to be of any use in a fight and too bloodthirsty to be of use anywhere else - reaches for the nearest drawer and yanks it open to rummage inside. 
John said there was a chance you could save them. 
She huffs air out through her nose, making an irritated sound at her own stupid, lackluster sense of self-preservation. 
John Seed is a fucking lunatic. 
The first drawer contains nothing but manila folders and paperwork, and once she’s done searching to the bottom she slams it shut and continues on to the one below.
Joseph wanted you. He thinks he saw you in some fucked up prophecy, but when he tried to push you it became pretty fucking clear he couldn’t deal with being pushed back. He wanted you dead. That’s an edge. 
“That’s fucking suicide,” she mutters, arguing with herself now, yanking a small ziplock bag from the drawer. She barely registers the stuff, tossing it aside in favor of pawing through more stationary - planners, it looks like - before she stops dead. 
And what are you planning on doing right now?
“Fuck.” 
She stands there for a few fraught moments before pulling a rolling chair out from the desk, easing herself down into the seat slowly - as if her own body is some wild animal she’s trying not to spook - only noticing her hands are shaking again when she buries her face into them.
“Fffffuck.” 
Just keep it together. Just a little longer. Long enough to hear what the fuck he has to say. 
There’s a rattling sound from across the room behind her; the door being unlocked and then opened. There’s nothing else from him at first, and she briefly wonders if John’s actually trying to be quiet in case she’s sleeping.
“Ah,” he exclaims after a moment, presumably when he notices she’s not in his bed, “what are we up to over there, deputy? Hope you aren’t rummaging through my personal belongings looking for a murder weapon,” he adds a little too airily, the volume of his voice indicating his approach.
He stops beside her and places a tray down on the desk before turning and leaning against the edge so that he can look down at her.
“I’ll leave you in suspense over which one of us I was planning on murdering,” she offers up numbly, reaching out to slam the drawer shut like punctuation on the end of her sentence.
John’s eyes narrow. He examines her for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest, gaze moving briefly to the baggie on the floor before focusing back on her. 
“Eat. You’ll feel better once you do,” he says pointedly, leaning over just enough so that he can remove the lid from a steaming container of soup. “And then perhaps we can try our hand at having a civilized conversation.” 
Diana hates the way her stomach immediately starts growling at the smell. She closes her eyes briefly, slumping back against the chair. “I’m not gonna do shit until you tell me what you meant—about having a chance at saving them.” 
John sighs. “Every single thing is like pulling teeth with you, isn’t it?”
She looks up; levels him with a hard, expectant glare. 
“Fine. The first thing you should know is that my brother has a very simple rule—if you’re not with us, you’re against us; you’re lost. However, in the eyes of Eden’s Gate, killing them now is standard procedure since Joseph began the Reaping. It’s still far kinder than to let them suffer the collapse—even if he believes they killed Rachel.”
“So?” 
“So—we both know I’ve already broken the Father’s rules more than once, and, frankly, I don’t care what happens to those friends of yours. You want them alive to suffer when God’s righteous fury comes to cleanse them from the earth? Fine.”
He shifts and leans forward, encroaching on her space that much more. “If you will just agree to settle the fuck down and”—he shrugs then—“stop fighting me. Think about things—about what I’m offering you. About what I’ve risked already trying to keep you safe. Just have a chat with me—a real one. And I’ll let you put out a call to them.” 
Diana stares up at him, weighing his words and the manner in which she might respond to them. 
He picks up the spoon sat beside the bowl, holding it out to her. “Have you ever seen the film Silence of the Lambs?”
Her brows knit. She reaches out to take the utensil, eyeing him warily. “I thought you didn’t consume any kind of media,” she responds carefully, scooting the chair closer to the soup—and, by extension, to John. “Or is that another rule you broke?” 
John scoffs. “I was in the habit of consuming plenty of things before Joseph found me. Media included. Look, we’re running out of time and I’m willing to sweeten the deal. The reason I mention it’s in reference to the little game they play—quid pro quo. If you are honest and open with me, I will offer you the same courtesy. Ask me anything. I know you must be curious.” 
“Tch,” Diana tuts noncommittally. She scoots the chair around so that she’s parallel with the desk, making it so her legs are between the two of them. Not much extra space, considering he’s still leaning there like a fucking gargoyle, but it’s something. “Not really.”
She leans in over the tray, dunks the spoon into the soup and pulls up some lengths of noodle and some celery and a chunk of what appears to be chicken or turkey. 
Her response takes him off guard. Diana notices the way he stiffens and feels a spiteful little thrill. It’s a lie, of course, but at this point she requires the small satisfaction of feigning disinterest. It makes her feel fractionally better, the quick little jab at his ego; distracts her from her own self-destructiveness in a backwards kind of way.
“Do you want the opportunity to warn them or not? I don’t think I’m asking for very much, considering all I’ve done for you already.”
“Fucking-Christ—yes, okay? Yes, I want to be able to talk to them,” she bites out, angrily cutting her gaze away from the soup to look up at him again. “Can you stop trying to gaslight me for two fucking seconds!? It’s not gonna work and it makes you look like even more of an asshole.”
John angles his head, leveling her with a satisfied little smile. He’ll take the insult - what’s one more, anyway, really - because he’s got her right where he wants her. Of course, ideally, she’d be begging him on hands and knees to be saved, spilling her secrets freely and willingly and thanking him for his generosity all the while.
“Excellent. Eat the soup; it’s fresh from dinner at the compound, locally sourced, free range, et cetera, et cetera—and then I’ll give you your call.” 
He pushes off from the desk, finally giving her back her space, idling around behind her as he makes his way to retrieve the bag she’d tossed to the floor. 
Diana huffs out a sigh, staring petulantly at the wall for a few more beats before she finally focuses her attention back on the meal he brought. It smells hearty and salty and it’s like somehow he knew she always craves sodium whenever she’s suffering a hangover. 
Fuck, she thinks, before blowing on a spoonful and tasting it. 
“My brother’s patrols are going to sweep every single corner of the Henbane...when you speak to them, I’d suggest you tell them to reconvene in Fall’s End.” 
Diana pauses with a chunk of buttered bread half-torn between her fingers, has to lower it and turn awkwardly in the chair to face him. 
“Oh yeah?” she asks with no small amount of suspicion, watching as he pinches the fingers of one bandaged hand idly over the length of the little bag. In all honesty, the powdery substance inside looks like coke and she isn’t surprised in the slightest. 
“So you can be the golden boy who caught the deputy and her little sinner army all in one go?” she adds pointedly, shifting her gaze back up to meet his.
John can’t seem to help looking smug. “No. I’m simply trying to be...magnanimous. The incompetent fools I left in charge already let it be taken back; it’s not a trap or an ambush. I’m willing to offer them safe passage. If they move soon.” 
“Why?” 
John cocks an eyebrow as he comes up beside her again. He puts a foot up on the edge of the chair and pushes her just far enough out of his way so that he can get to the drawer she’d been digging in before. “Is that one of your official questions, deputy? The ones you’re not really interested in asking-?” 
“Fuck you,” comes the customary retort as she spins around to reorient herself and keep her eyes on him. 
John smirks as he tosses the bag back into its place in the drawer. “Isn’t it obvious? For you. Because I know you and your friends are out of options. Because we are fighting a holy war that my brothers and I are destined to win.”
He pauses for a moment, lingering again. “Because I want you to be with me, when that time comes…”
Diana considers this for a moment. She wants to bite out something about how fucking deluded he is, about how effortlessly cruel he’d been only a short time ago, but she can’t rule out the offer. If it’s true - it’s something she can’t ignore or take for granted, despite every one of her instincts warning against it. 
“Just so I’ve got this perfectly clear...you’re saying you’ll let them go. You’ll let them leave.” 
“Yes.” 
She wets her lips. The taste of the broth lingers there, registering somewhere in her brain to remind her that she’s still very hungry. 
“Okay,” she eventually says, quiet; overpowered. 
What choice does she have, really, but to trust him? 
“Good. Now eat.”
Finally, finally, she does as he says. 
Like he’s only just now noticing how dark it is, John leaves the vicinity of the desk to make his way over to the windows, sliding the heavy curtains aside to let in the last of the evening’s light for her to eat by. 
He leaves her in relative peace for a time, busying himself with tidying up the bed. But he can’t let it lie for long. He’s finally punched a sizable hole through her armor and instinct needles at him to keep pushing.
“So. Lily…?”
“Her name was Liliana.” 
John finishes straightening the comforter, turns and watches the deputy; she’s frozen where she sits, half hunched over his desk. She doesn’t say anything else after this, so he plunges forward. 
“Will you tell me what happened?” 
A heavy sigh escapes her. She shifts in the chair, remains silent for a while longer as if she has to work up to it. 
He wonders how long it’s been since she’s spoken to anyone about it in more than a superficial capacity; if her little friends know about it. 
“Met her in Cascade County. She got caught, um...selling drugs. The kinda shit no sixteen year old should be selling.” Diana pauses, not bothering to turn around and face him, only poking the spoon down into the bowl lacklusterly. “Her family was dirt fucking poor, she was just trying to bring in any money she could. But she was...good. She...she made me feel like I could be good…”
The corner of John’s mouth ticks up at the admission, though she can’t see it. “And you had a, what?” he asks quietly, a little airily, unable to stop himself from provoking the topic now that she’s started talking. “A secret little whirlwind romance?” 
“We were teenagers—we were...obsessed with each other. She, uh...she turned eighteen six months before I did. Got out, went to a halfway house, got a job. Was doin’ really fucking good. Came to visit me every week,” Diana continues haltingly, her voice thick and fracturing with emotion. “She brought me this...huge bouquet of roses, after I finished my G.E.D. Told me how proud she was. And...and then one week she just...didn’t show. Never called, never left a message...”
She clears her throat, pausing again. “I was in the common room, happened to see it on the news a few days later. She got killed in a––a mugging...motherfucker stabbed her and left her in an alley to bleed out.”
Her fists flex, opening and closing restlessly atop the chair’s armrests. 
John approaches, keenly watching for any signs of another breakdown but the second round of Valium seems to be doing its job. There’s so much he wants to say, so many more questions he wants to ask; he wants to dig into this wound, widen it, make it bleed. He wants to know every gory detail of the pain that shaped her, carve out a little place in his mind where he can covet the knowledge.
But all things in moderation. He’s only just gotten her back, only just gotten her talking. And he knows enough now to be aware of her desire to martyr herself for those people she feels beholden to. 
She’ll keep talking, though, keep peeling back her own layers strip by bloody strip as long as she also feels beholden to him. 
“They wouldn’t even let me out to go to her fucking funeral…”
John reaches out, brushes his fingertips lightly across her shoulder as he comes up beside her.
Yes, no wonder it filled her with so much rage, exacerbated whatever infantile ugliness had already been growing inside her. In his experience, closure is a powerful tool; many of their faithful had been lacking it in some shape or form when the Project took them in. Something he himself had been sorely lacking until his serendipitous reunion with his brothers all those years ago. 
Diana tenses beneath his touch, gentle as he’s tried to make it. So much like a wild animal it makes his pulse quicken to think of finally humbling her, of gaining her submission. His hand moves of its own accord, fists into the hair at the back of her head that still hasn’t quite dried all the way. 
He drinks in the way she exposes her throat, head tipping back at his insistence; watches the tendons flex under the skin as she swallows apprehensively. Catches the shine of tears in the corners of those dull sea-green eyes. And then he bends down and kisses her roughly without waiting for any indication of permission, because it’s what he wants and because he sees her. 
“Yes,” he breathes against her lips, tightening his grip. “There’s that courage. I knew you had it in you, my divine, repugnant little wrath. How does it feel, to finally expose yourself? Didn’t I tell you you wouldn’t be able to hide anymore?” 
Something hardens in Diana’s eyes as she cuts her gaze up to meet his, baring her teeth. The haze of painful memories gone, replaced with that familiar impudence he finds so infuriatingly alluring. 
“Give me...my fucking call,” she grits out, “or I’ll show you what else I remember from Silence of the Lambs.” 
John grunts, an amused smile playing on his mouth even as images of prison guards with their faces chewed open flit through his mind. “Yes—of course.” 
He finally releases her, shifting forward to lean over and reach into that drawer he’d left open. 
“I’d say you’ve earned it,” he mutters absently, pleasantly, as he retrieves one of the planners.
Pacing away a few steps, he flips open the little book and rifles through the pages before finding the one he’s looking for. A list of important phone numbers he’d written out a number of years ago, the County Jail being one of them. John folds back the cover and tosses the open booklet into her lap. 
Diana blinks, anger and indignation flaring up after she gets a good look at what’s written there. “The fuck is this? I’m not stupid, I know you cut all the phone lines-”
John shakes his head, motioning for her to get up. “Not all—we made sure to retain connections to a few key locations. The jail happens to be one of them. Using the radio’s far too risky.” 
Diana knits her brows, the anger morphing, grudgingly, into a look more reminiscent of cautiousness. She grabs up the little book and stands, takes a step back as he shifts forward once more. 
“Finished?” he asks innocently enough, motioning down at the tray. 
Diana sniffles, sullenly cutting her gaze away and turning as she reaches up to wipe at her eyes with the heel of her hand. “I guess.”
                                  .     .     .
They descend from the second floor down the staircase. John stops short, though, when they emerge into the hallway that leads to the kitchen at one end and the living room at the other. “The phone is out in the main room, on the table. Can I trust you to behave for a few minutes while I clean up?” 
She watches him raise the tray pointedly, as if he’s being ever so gracious taking it upon himself to do her dishes. 
I’m gonna punch him in the mouth.
“So...you don’t want me to tell them I’ve been drugged, psychologically and emotionally tortured and held here against my will?” she replies caustically.
John cocks an eyebrow. “Tell them whatever you want. But I’ll reiterate—the likelihood of their survival depends heavily on certain details you choose to leave out. My dear.”
“The jail’s gotta have caller I.D., they’re gonna know as soon as it rings-”
“You think I’d have my phone number listed?” 
Diana’s mouth hinges shut at that. She waits for him to laugh in her face, tear her down just that much further for being a fucking idiot—but he doesn’t. 
“Make your call, deputy. If you care so much, stop wasting this time I’m giving you.” 
Her lip curls as he turns and walks away toward the kitchen without another word. The idea of bolting straight out the back door crosses her mind but she knows she wouldn’t make it very far. John may not let his followers wander around inside while he’s at home but she has absolutely no doubt they’re posted at every exit.
Diana has no trouble finding the telephone because the light’s blinking on the answering machine. She approaches, casting a quick glance back at the entrance to the hall. She didn’t bother trying to close the heavy double doors when she came through and now the deputy can hear the faint sound of dishes rattling at the other end of the house, like he’s out there fucking with the dishwasher. 
So naturally she reaches out and presses the PLAY button. 
“After all the atonements, all the confessions, all you’ve done for me and Eden’s Gate...it’s not enough, is it, John?” 
She doesn’t know what she expected to hear. Something relating to strategies or supply distribution, some kind of official business related to the project—something that could be helpful. Not whatever this is. 
Even Joseph thinks he’s fucking lost it.
“You are destined to be slain by your own sin. It will come back around in a new form—it’s only a matter of when. I’ve seen you die young, I’ve seen you die old; the difference between the two outcomes is how much love you let into your heart.”
An undesirable twinge of guilt stabs at her. Even after John just pried out part of her story she’d never intended on sharing, this feels like too intimate a thing to be listening in on. Like she’s inadvertently gotten too close, like the more she learns about him and the inner workings of his family the more likely she is to become trapped by it. Bound to it, to him, to this insane prophecy they’re convinced she’s somehow a part of. 
Diana reaches out and jabs the STOP button just as Joseph starts to say ‘I love you,’ swiping up the receiver in one shaky hand and glancing at John’s planner to get the number she needs to dial. She can’t take the time to process everything she just heard. Doesn’t even know that she wants to. 
She chews her lip as it rings and rings, nine or ten times before she almost hangs up to try again. 
“Sheriff Earl Whitehorse, Hope County P.D.” 
Then, carefully, “state your business.” 
“Earl,” she breathes out quickly, eyes darting back to the hallway, “Earl, it’s me, Diana—Deputy Baker-”
“Jesus Christ, Baker, where the hell are you!? Are you hurt?” 
“I—” Diana blinks, and all of a sudden she can’t seem to form the words she needs to say. 
“Talk to me, kid. We’ve had search parties out lookin’ for you for two goddamn days-”
“I-I’m okay, listen, I’m okay—got Blissed to fuckin’ hell and back, but-”
“Where are you?” 
“Listen, I’m safe - I think - but you need to get the fuck out of that jail, okay-”
“Rook, somebody out here killed Faith Seed, you know anything about-”
“I know, Earl, just fuckin’ listen to me for a second—that’s why you have to leave!” Diana flings the little planner down on the table, frustrated at being interrupted by the old man. “They’re gonna be coming for you, you have to get everyone out of that fucking jail!”
“I—” 
There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line and then a heavy breath and she can practically see him pushing his fingers up under his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. He’d done it enough in their short time together before the shit hit the fan that it’s one of the few mannerisms she can easily conjure up. 
“Okay...alright...well, uh, Mary May and the Pastor and a handful of others were able to chase John’s people out of Fall’s End-”
So he was telling the truth. 
“Yes, good, okay—call up anybody who’s still out looking for me or patrolling or whatever, tell them to get the fuck out of the Henbane. I think Jacob’s sending in, like...fucking kill crews or something-”
“Will you tell me what the hell’s goin’ on? Where are you, how’d you know about all of this?” 
Her chest tightens up.  
Tell him. You have to tell him.
“I, uh…” She squeezes her eyes shut. 
Fuck fuck fuck. 
“I’m safe for now, okay...just—just head for Fall’s End. I’ll be in touch, I’ll...I’ll meet up with you soon.” 
“Baker, hold on—wait a second-!”
She jabs the END button with her thumb, exhaling raggedly and staring down at the receiver in her hand.
“Ohh, well done. Except that pesky little bit at the end…”
She whips her head around to see John approaching from the doorway, an easy smirk spread on his face. 
He stops just beside her, leisurely tucking his hands into his pockets as he gives Diana a quick once-over. Appraising. But Pleased.
“I need to make sure,” she hisses at him, pointing a finger vaguely at the wall. “Those people aren’t gonna abandon their home just because I put out one cryptic fucking phone call! I need to be able to talk to them. In person.”
“I don’t recall that being a part of the agreement-”
Diana scoffs violently. “Your definition of an agreement is so unbelievably fucking troubling, I don’t even have the ingenuity to debate it with you right now-”
“For the best, considering it’s a debate you’d never win,” he cuts in, tilting his head in that condescending way he has. “Hurling slurs and insults is no substitute for a compelling - or even coherent - argument, no matter how practiced you might be at it…” 
“Slurs and insults are the only things I have left you stupid fucking dick! I gave you what you wanted!” 
“Mm,” he hums through a thin smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling just so. “Quid pro quo, my dear. You want to see those people? I want more.” 
22 notes · View notes
strangesoulmates · 3 years
Note
fffffuck me whole, you wrote as certain dark things are to be loved? in AWE my friend, straight awe. how'd i never notice holy shit
adore that stuff, have my raw unfiltered love, hot damn 💕💕💕
I am! And thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoy it. It is pure ridiculous guilty pleasure id fic and I'm glad that it's managed to speak to other people as well
9 notes · View notes
whaticannotshowyou · 3 years
Note
Thick witcher cum anon here- it gets even thicker in the winter, and Geralt bringing Jaskier back to Kaer Morhen to be him and his brothers (willing or unwilling) cum dumpster for the season... and considering they can all go many times with their literal cups of cum... Jaskier is going to stuffed full the entire time.
Fffffuck yes...After the first time together, Jaskier is more reluctant to letting Geralt come inside. It’s a good feeling, but it always makes the witcher go round after round on him, filling him until his belly is pouching out. Not only is it messy, but it’s exhausting and gets uncomfortable quickly, makes him sore and heavy as he just has to take it. Of course, he knows Geralt loves it and he can take it, so he lets him come inside of him every once in a while, pretending he can’t get enough of him even when overstimulation washes over him and all he wants is for them to stop so he can go to bed. It turns out to be quite a mistake pretending he loves it.
Geralt invites him to Kaer Morhen the same winter, acting more excited than ever (still pretty closed off in human standards) as they make their way up the mountain. Jaskier figures he’s just happy to reunite with his family, not thinking much of it as he shares the witcher’s cheerful mood. When they arrive, Jaskier is shown quite quickly just why he is there to begin with.
Geralt barely lets the dinner come to an end before he is pawing at Jaskier’s clothes, giving his brothers meaningful looks as he starts dragging the bard to his chamber. Jaskier is excited for some sex, almost giddy with the realisation that he will have three absolutely gorgeous witchers to play with the entire winter. He moans and bucks his hips as Eskel enters him, humming as he picks up the pace and licks a long stripe up Lambert’s cock. Geralt is kneeling next to the bard, petting his back and hair as he watches his brothers use him from both ends.
“He’s- Fuck! He’s really fine with it?” Lambert groans as his hips stutter a little, his thrusts growing unsteady as he crams his entire length down Jaksier’s throat. Geralt gives him a pleased Yes, he loves it to his side, his eyes fondly studying the bard’s face. Eskel grunts at his words, his own movements growing erratical as he is getting close.
“Shit-!” Jaskier isn’t prepared for the two coming, especially not inside of him at the same time. The pressure is immense, filling him so quickly he can feel his belly swell within seconds. His immediate reaction is to get away, thrashing and clawing at the sheets as he is pinned between the two cocks pumping their loads inside of him. It’s heavier than after two rounds with Geralt, weighing him down in a way he only ever feels when they are hour into the whole thing.
“He takes it so well,” Lambert muses, practically purring as he grinds his cock against the back of Jaskier’s throat. Tears fill his eyes as he is stuck, unable to get away from what’s causing the pressure inside of him. And Geralt just keeps petting him, praising him while he tells his brothers about how Jaskier just loves being filled to the brim with his come, always moaning and begging for more. After what feels like hours, the two witchers pull out of him, a cascade of sticky spend following Eskel’s member as Jaskier collapses to the bed, twitching and shaking.
He takes one look behind him to confirm what he suspected, the come dripping out of him so much thicker than Geralt’s ever was. He shudders at the sight, an unexpected feeling of disgust rising in him at the sticky seed coating his insides. It’s just so much of it, clinging to itself like tar or molten iron. It’s vile.
Caught in his own thoughts Jaskier doesn’t notice the men shifting around, Geralt taking Lambert’s place as he moves to claim his arse. He realises it too late, the cock already between his lips before he can get his protests out. He can’t take any more of it, already filled by so much of them, but he doesn’t have a choice as the two starts thrusting inside of him, dragging his body between their cocks like he’s nothing but a doll for them to use.
Considering Geralt had never come inside anyone but him for centuries, Jaskier assumed the same for his brothers, familiar with the frantic and bordeline manic need to spill themselves inside him as many times as possible, like they will never get a chance to do so again. The mere thought makes him groan, try to wrench his mouth off Geralt so he can tell them to stop, that he doesn’t want it, but the witcher’s grip on his skull makes it impossible. Instead he has no option but to take it, wait until they’re done so he can put an end to the whole thing.
The second time he is filled is even worse than the first, Jaskier now aware of just what is filling him up and making him gag around the cock in his mouth as he feels his belly swell with it. It’s endless, a constant stream of hot, sticky come that makes his guts wrench as he wants nothing but to rid himself of it.
His protests are ignored as the two finish, Geralt holding his cheeks between his palms oh, so gently as he calls him a good boy, tells him that he is doing such a good job being their little cumdump and letting his brothers know the pleasures of coming inside someone. By the third round his stomach cramps, Jaskier boneless as he groans and nurses his heavy belly and tries to ease the pain. He is shifting in and out of consciousness by the fourth, gone from the world by the fifth.
Jaskier wakes up from the cramps several hours later, sandwiched between Eskel and Lambert as he moans from the pain. His hand slides down to his arse, his body going stiff as he feels the flat head of a plug snug against his hole. His sounds quickly wakes the witchers up, Geralt cradling him to his chest as he whines and cries, gripping at the head of the plug but gaining no purchase due to the slippery liquid coating it. Lambert is up on his feet within seconds, fetching a container and placing it underneath the bard, Jaskier kneeling over it as Geralt and Eskel keeps him steady.
“You were so good,” the oldest of them coos, Geralt petting his hair back from his sweaty forehead as Eskel slowly eases the plug out. The rush of liquid makes Jaskier lose his balance, his torso supported against geralt’s chest as his bowels empties out. He feels hollow as the minutes tick by, his head spinning and the combination of his cramps and the disgusting sounds of come splattering against the container making him feel sick. He retches against Geralt’s shoulder, his head moved to the side as Lambert holds a small bucket in front of him. After several minutes of suffering, he manages to not throw up, his body sagging against Geralt’s as he is finally empty. He passes out in his arms, the exhaustion too much for him.
Turns out it was not a one-time experience. Despite his pleas and protests, the witchers keeps filling him up. He is fucked over and over, then plugged up until he wakes up from the pain and they let him void himself of their spend. All of them praises him for being such a good little boy, thanking him for letting them use his body. He grows accustomed to the cramps, stops trying to get away as the weeks stretches out. Eventually they figure out he can take two cocks up his arse and one in his mouth, servicing all three of them at the same time. At least it shortens the agonising coupling by a third of it’s time, but makes the rush of thick liquid all the harder to endure.
By the end of the winter, Lambert and Eskel kisses him and thanks him over and over, barely letting him go as Geralt tries to drag him along so they can make their way down the mountain. Lambert asks him if he will be there next year and before Jaskier can even think about the question, Geralt barks out a quick of course and tugs the bard along with him.
29 notes · View notes
Note
i had an idea that was beej finds out Lydia is being bullied at school and is a very over protective older brother about it and wants to murder them
yes yes yes!! i love that trope of beej just being way too overprotective when it comes to bullies
(also sorry for answering this so late!)
(oh yeah, tw, there are some lesbian and gay slurs here, oops)
god this one gets a bit edgy
-
“They did what?” Beej shot his head at Lydia, his eyes widening.
“No, it’s not that bad, plus it’s happened before. So like, I’m used to it.” Lydia mumbled, grimacing when he slammed his fist on the table.
“Those bitches!” He shouted, before pointing up a finger and shaking it, whispering, “I’m gonna ffffFUCKING kill them. Just you fucking watch me.”
“Beej, no! You can’t do that! What if you get in big trou-”
“Lydia, I’m gonna be honest with you I’ve killed so many people since you’ve summoned me and not one body has been found. That I know of, at least,” He counted on his fingers until 23, mumbling a name under his breath every number, “Oh, no, that one Smith guy was found..I think...and, uh...the other guy too, I forgot his name..”
Lydia sat there in pure disbelief as he literally counted how many people he’d killed. I mean, he’d obviously killed some people before but now? When he was with them? That was just...who was she kidding, it was inevitable something like this would happen, but she didn’t expect so many. How much did he count, 23? 24? He’s basically a serial killer at that point.
“Beej- You know that,” She blinked a couple times and stared at him, “You know that makes a serial killer, right?”
“Oh, shit, does it?” He looked surprised and stopped counting.
“Yeah...”
“Because that’s cool as FUCK!” He grinned, “Anyway, about those girls, want me to kill them for you?”
Lydia sighed and took her backpack, putting it on and opening the door.
“Look, do you want to come to my school or not?” Lydia groaned, looking back at him.
“Yeah!” He rushed out the door, grabbing Lydia’s wrist and dragging her with him, “Wait, which way?”
“That wa-”
“That way!” He shouted, running left, the way Lydia pointed. She giggled at how fast he was, and how weird this would probably look to other people. Just two people, one just slightly taller than the other speeding down the street. You’d think they were about the same age until you heard Betelgeuse’s smoker voice.
All of a sudden, they were at the bus stop.
“This is it, right?” Betelgeuse looked around, and spotted a bus heading their way, “Oh, look, just in time!”
Lydia felt dizzy all of a sudden. She couldn’t process what was happening due to how fast he was being.
“Uh...yeah..” She stumbled onto the bus and finally gained composure. She showed her bus pass to the driver and sat down, Beej soon following but being stopped by the driver.
“Hey! Kid, where’s your pass?” He asked in a stern tone.
Betelgeuse stopped and stared at him, before slowly walking to a seat next to Lydia, not breaking eye contact. He realised the bus wasn’t going to move, so he simply possessed the bus driver and began driving. He didn’t know how to drive. He almost crashed many times. Lydia found it fun as fuck though.
“Please become our bus driver.” Lydia begged while walking the ‘secret way’ inside the school. (It was just the back school entrance.) The two walked through the school, Betelgeuse disguised as a normal-looking, brown haired student. He looked as if he was in the grade above Lydia, and he did get a bunch of weird looks for that, but he didn’t really care. Her school was way more boring than he thought it’d be.
“Kids don’t get hit by their teachers anymore?!” He shouted in the middle of the hallway, Lydia eagerly trying to shush him.
“No, that’s illegal.” She whispered, “Let’s go somewhere else, okay?”
She walked him over to the back of the school, and began lecturing him.
“I told you your name is gonna be Dewey!”
“Dewey is a dumbass name! What kind of person is called Dewey?!” He shouted, raising his arms and shoulders.
“WHAT KIND OF FUCKING NAME IS CALCULATOR?! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT A CALCULATOR IS?!” She screamed, shaking him.
He started at her and shrugged his shoulders before quickly turning around at a girls voice calling his ‘name’. Lydia stared at her, pissed off.
“Hey! Calculator, was it?!” The girl snickered with her friends, “Who’s your mum, some druggie alcoholic?”
Oh, little did she know.
“It’s actually - ohmygod - It’s actually, uh, Dewey..” He rolled his eyes and looked at Lydia, before whispering to her, “Who is this bitch?”
“Look, Mackenzie, I’m not dealing with your bullshit right now. I’m talking to my friend.” Lydia groaned and flipped her off.
Mackenzie and her friends giggled, then all of them looking back at the two almost in complete sync.
“Whatever, Lyds-”
“Don’t fucking call me that.” She stepped forward, angrily. She was tired of this girl and just wanted her to go away.
“Awh, I’m so scared! Is the little baby gonna have a tantrum?” Mackenzie teased, looking back at Betelgeuse, “So, ..Dewey.” She couldn’t help but laugh at the name, “That’s a new one.”
“Hey! Dewey is cool as shit! Mackenzie sounds like a god-damn fuckin’ car brand!” He yelled, crossing his arms.
“Whatever. You’re probably just as much of a f*g as she is a d*ke.” She rolled her eyes and walked off.
Jesus, that escalated quickly.
Lydia opened her mouth to say something, but closed it and bit her lip. She looked to the side and crossed her arms, it was obvious this wasn’t the first time she was being bullied or made fun of for her sexuality, or just the way she acted in general.
Betelgeuse stared at the girls laughing and walking away in pure awe. He looked at Lydia, then back at the girls, then Lydia, then the girls. He thought about what he was going to do (for once) for a second. How everyone would react. Was he gonna kill a child?
Lydia was holding back tears, thinking about all the things she had been told in the past, she seemed to be breaking.
He was gonna kill a child.
He stomped towards the group and picked Mackenzie up by the collar, strands of his hair already turning red.
“Listen here, you absolute fucking son of a bitch. I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you think you’re gonna get away with saying shit like that about my best friend,” He laughed and looked at her friends, “You better fucking think twice.” He brought Mackenzie up to throw her down, but was interrupted by Lydia’s voice.
“Stop! Beej, please! I told you not to do this!” Lydia’s voice broke.
He groaned, glaring at the girl before looking at a non existent watch on his wrist, then looking back at her, smiling.
“Well, would you look at the fucking time!”
Betelgeuse looked at her again for a second before dropping her to the ground and grabbing Lydia’s wrist, walking off. He stopped and went back to the girls for a moment and flipped them off with both hands. Lydia just wanted to go home. She hated this. Of all things, why did this have to happen?
Betelgeuse went out of his disguise and teleported her back home, three hours before school was supposed to end. He let go of her wrist and hugged her.
“I’m sorry, kid..you don’t deserve that. Mom would call me stuff like that and, uh, I reacted basically the same way you did, believe it or not.” He tried to sound soft but the gruff voice remained. Lydia wipes her eyes and sighed, hugging him back.
“It’s okay.”
-
JEsus this was a rollercoaster. uh it got a bit over the top and edgy near the end, but i like writing things like that so i hope you don’t mind it too much
thanks for sending me this ask! that’s two angsty one shots in a row, which i honestly didn’t expect
i don’t mind writing either fluff or angst, i’m just not the best at angst and there are probably so many people who are way better at writing that me (i’m still surprised because are actually sending me asks in the first place! i thought people would just ignore my posts about it, y’know?)
beetlebabes please fuck off xx
🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤!!
Tumblr media
146 notes · View notes
isa-ghost · 3 years
Note
hbomb, bbh, philza, optional antfrost?
hbomb: a stream you find yourself rewatching all the time
I don't USUALLY rewatch streams BUT I think if I got hit with enough nostalgia I'd go to Wilbur's YouTube and just rewatch the whole L'Manburg arc up until the Manburg-Pogtopia war. I miss the independence war. :( It was just really satisfying to watch Wilbur be so quick thinking and good with his words as a General. Revivebur and Villbur are pretty and all but like. [Yells in crimeboys enjoyer]
badboyhalo: what piece of cursed lore is your favourite?
The Samsung fridge. Its obligatory. I was there for that stream. And was hilariously afk for it. And that resulted in this clip of me making Phil lose his shit because I was SO CONFUSED when I came back to the stream. .... Oh my god according to the clip that was 7 months ago.
philza: who on the smp would you like to be best friends with?
BENCHTRIO. But also Wilbur. And Eret. And Puffy is so sweet and fun too- *deep inhale*
Tommy and I are super similar and I THRIVE on the rare glimpses of Genuine Tom Simons we get in Q&As and such. He just seems so fun and sweet.
Ranboo is so damn funny. And also seems like the type of friend you could just sit and quietly exist with and it's perfectly chill. But also I'm one of those feral gremlin friends and one of my best friends is just like Ranboo where you're off the shits and he just "WHY" and its so funny to watch them try and deal with your crackhead ass.
Tubbo is a blend of Tommy and Ranboo WITH BONUS FERAL and so much goddamn creativity and spontaneity. Tubbo seems like the friend that when my energy is low, he knows exactly how to rile me back up no matter how crappy I'm feeling, and something about the way He specifically riles me up would genuinely make me feel better, rather than reluctantly scraping up energy to keep up.
Wilbur I could fucking listen to for HOURS. His voice is lovely, he's such an interesting, smart, funny person and he's super knowledgeable about things I can't retain to save my life. I'd LOVE to get into deep hours long conversations with him OR watch him devolve into an absolute goblin as he plays Geoguessr or something else. And friendship activities aside? I feel like he's that friend that- if he isn't Also feeling shitty -could say just the right thing to swat away a bad mental health day with the perfect words every time. He just has such a confident, reassuring energy to him when he's not being our loveable little crime man.
Eret is a chill, down to earth, fun person and also FELLOW QUEER. :D I could 100% see myself hanging out at a mall with him or staying home if going out isn't the vibe and platonically cuddling while we fuck around on YouTube or binge a show. They have the Range(tm) and I love that.
Puffy same as Eret honestly. With the chaos cranked up a little. I would GLADLY hang out inside or outside with her, or just screw around in a game and do whatever. I love her voice, I love her energy, and I love her affectionate pranking.
Genuinely, I admire like 90% of the SMP members so much, I'd die to spend a day with any of them. I'd lose my mind if I got to actually befriend any of them. Fuck the clout that'd probably bring with it, these people made quarantine bearable for me, and gave me a new hyperfixation that has driven my creative muse INSANE in the best way. If I got to verbally thank them and then have the time to get past all the appreciation and praise that'd pour out of me to talk about other things or do something fun with them? I'd fuckin ascend tbh.
antfrost: be honest, who do you simp for?
In character? L'Manburg independence era Wilbur 1000%. He's what REALLY roped me into hyperfixating on the SMP. Also Eret, Puffy, and on/off Sam n Niki. Idk man they may not be who we see rooted DEEP in the ""main"" lore but those four get on some Hot Girl Shit sometimes and my pan ass goes 👀. Like Warden Sam when we saw him the first time Tommy visited the prison? HOLY FFFFFUCK DUDE. I got OC INSPIRATION from that shit! MMM. Honestly I bet there's more people not coming to my mind right away too.
Out of character? I mean. Almost the same answer tbh. Wilbur, Eret, Puffy, and Niki make the pan brain go brrr. They're SO PRETTY. Like not even an "I would hypothetically date them" pretty, just *inhales and claps* PRETTY. Like,, would I date them if that was a thing I could do? Hell yeah. They're all lovely people both physically and in a social sense.
And I don't feel comfortable saying a lot about Ranboo because he's a minor and I am Not, but I think he's a very handsome boy too. Definitely aesthetically speaking. >_> No "would I date" type shit there. Nuh uh, that's Yikes. But I would like to hug the crap out of him. I am Very Short and he is Very Tall and I want to hug the noodle man.
2 notes · View notes
jj-lynn21 · 4 years
Text
Bath time with Roman
This is a continuation of my Roman and Princess series. Catch up here
Warnings Angst, Smut Roman images by: bonniebird.
Tumblr media
Roman and his Princess have been on edge since their return from Las Vegas. They have been snitting at each other over the least little things. Their minds were foggy. Sleep irregular at best. They barely feel like eating and both complaint to the other they are not getting enough nourishment. Their eyes have dark circles underneath.
Roman snaps his fingers when he walks in from work. Frustration painted on his face. "What the fuck. Where the fuck are you? When I snap..."
Princess glares at him when she saunters down the stairs in one of his sweaters with a pair of loose sweat pants. Her hair is in a messy bun. She didn't even bother to cover up the sick pale yellow look her skin gave off with any make-up. "I will be down when I damn well please asshole. You don't have to snap your fingers for my attention. I heard the fucking door bang shut."
Roman pushes her against the wall. his hand around her throat.  Her eyes widen as her chest heaves with anger and excitement. "Watch your fucking language." He tosses her onto the floor.
She jumps up and pushes him across the room into another wall. Grabbing his package she slaps him with her other hand across the face. "You ever throw me in anger again like that I'll rip this thing off you and make you eat it for dinner. It will be more than you have fucking eaten all week."
Roman hisses. Princess hisses back before letting go.
"That is the most contact you have had with my dick in weeks and it could be longer the way your acting." Roman starts upstairs with a partial hard-on, "Bring me a fucking bag and glass. I'll be upstairs trying to get this shit day and the one before it and the ones that will certainly come next, out of my fucking head."
"At least you have somewhere to go since the white fucking tower was allowed to open back up," Princess ranted as Roman was ascending the stairs. "I go out without a fucking mask because we are fucking immune and people look at me like I am the fucking antichrist."
Roman slams the door to the bathroom. Princess takes a deep breath. She goes to get him his drink so he will not waste away to nothing. She carries two glasses and two bags upstairs. Opening the door quietly she watches him. He has a mirror full of coke in front of him. He hears her disappointed thoughts.
He does a line of coke, "Are you going to stand at the door and watch or get the fuck in here and join me?"
She rolls her eyes as she strips down. He chuckles wickedly pushing the tray away. She pours some blood into the glasses sitting them by his coke. Princess sits on the other end of the tub and lights a Wisteria and Jasmine candle. She brings her knees to her chest as Roman's legs stretch around her.  Her head is back. Her eyes closed as she tries to relax.
"I don't know why you even do coke," Princess murmurs. "It is not like we feel it anymore."
"It is like a residual effect," Roman splashed some water on his face. "My brain remembers it made me feel good so in theory it still does."
"Does that theory hold water, so to speak?" She puts her chin on her knees looking at him. She sighs deeply.
"Not really, but don't tell me that." Roman looked to her for a reaction.
She giggles, "I'll try not to."
"Come here," Roman reached out for her.
"I'm fine, thanks," She put on a fake smile.
"I think we both know we are not fine," His voice low and concerned. "Come here, please."
Princess huffed but sat by him reluctantly. His arms around the tub. They barely touched for a few moments. Roman gently pulls her in more to lay on his shoulder. He relaxed his arm back on the tub ledge. "This isn't that bad  is it?"
"No, it's good," She put one of her knees up to get more comfortable.
Roman watched her carefully moving his eyes down her body. "Let's have a drink. I know you are as thirsty as me. You need to drink when I'm at work so that beautiful pink comes back in your cheeks. I know I need more also so no lecture." He reaches for the glasses and hands her one.
Princess takes a small sip. She wriggles her nose is displeasure. "It doesn't taste right."
"Yeah, I agree." He takes a sip and puts it down. "I'm not that thirsty I guess.”
She starts to put hers down. Roman grabs it. "No, you don't. You are going to drink that whole glass." He tips it back to her lips.
She took another sip before grabbing the cup. "If you finish a glass, I will. You look like a walking corpse lately and I am no corpse bride.
Roman gets his glass. Takes another sip. "Happy?"
She sips," Are you?"
"I'd be happy if we fucked as much as we did before Vegas," Roman whined looking at his girl like a predator.
Her breath caught as she looked in his eyes, pupils dilating. "I just thought you were more hungry than wanting to.."
Roman interrupts her with his lips on hers.  A hand slides up her side to a breast. He moves his lips there. Princess let's out a small whimper. "This can't help how we are feeling." She runs her fingers through his thick brown locks.
He looks at her licking his top teeth, "I'm starving." He kissed her neck in that spot that always tantalizes her. "Couldn't you feel it when you grabbed me?" He put her hand on his chest easing it down. "Feel for yourself, Princess. This will help. Because I say it will."
She continues her hand down even when he takes his hand away and leans back.  As she glides her hand down his stiff shaft he moans. Even in this water Roman has no problem keeping his excitement up. She takes her hand away.
Roman looks to her as if he was physically wounded by the loss of her touch. "don't stop, Princess. I need you."
"I just need a little more," She put her knees on either side of him hovering over the tip of his engorged cock."You think this will work here?"
"Yeah," Roman grabs her hips. "Just put it on me. I'll be all in."
She slid him in holding the back of the tub. worked her way to a comfortable position as he started to thrust up. Water swirls in the tub spilling over as they fucked. The candle was put out at one point as they chased satisfaction. They both moaned softly. Their pleasure was building.
She whined when she was on the very edge. Roman sat up more grabbing her hair pulling it back. He knew exactly how to get that last bit of resistance from her without a word. His other hand palmed her ass going hard as he was about to break.
"Yes, Roman," She panted as she peaked.
Roman came right before with a studdering, "ffffFuck."
Princess gets out and wraps her pink robe around her, "Can we go out for a drink? I think that's what we need next."
Roman gets out as she held his robe for him to put on. He rather wear nothing but it will dry him off and then he plans to take it off. "You know we can't do that. Drink the bagged stuff."
He hands her the glass still over half full. He grabs his and the full bag that he will put back in the refrigerator. He can't see them getting a second bag down tonight.
"What about the club?" She prods. "Have you closed it yet? Maybe they have some more special wine?"
"I put a fucking foreclosure sign on it the morning after we got back." Roman grumbles. "Maybe I'll fucking burn it down since I own half of the place. I thought you didn't want anything more to do with them either?"
"I don't; I didn't; I'm just, " She buried her face in his chest murmuring, "I just don't love the bagged blood anymore." She looks up at Roman. "I don't believe I'm asking this but do you think Dr. Pryce could make us like it again or whip up something better?"
He thought about his day and what Dr. Pryce had suggested as they walked to the living room. Roman went to put the blood bags away. Then came where Princess waited for him to pull her onto his lap in the big lounger. "I talked to him today. He commented I didn't look well. I told him to fuck off. But then he got me to give some different samples, blood, urine and took some fluid from my spine. He wants us both at the White Tower tomorrow morning. You okay with that?"
"I guess," She leaned back on him. "You want me to make us some dinner?"
"No, I"m not hungry," Roman laid his head back on the chair as if it was too heavy to keep up.
Princess laid on his chest, "Me, neither."
12 notes · View notes