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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 2 months

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Bragging Rights - LN

Summary: Lando and y/n constantly argue over who has the bragging rights. But Lando knows he's got means of silencing his girlfriend.

Wrote some of this while watching the Bahrain GP and I've only got one thing to say...sorry to anyone Team Danny Ric, but RB should've never called for a driver swap. Team Yuki all the way (even if little angry man should not have done that in lap stunt, I low key get the anger but no excuse for dangerous driving he might even have got himself a trip to see the FIA)

No part 2 requests please

Spending a few extra days in Bahrain between testing and the first race weekend(ish). So most of the drivers have family and friends at the very least with them.

Lando bringing his girlfriend is going to be pretty much full-time, at least if he gets a say in it and usually y/n is hard-pressed to say no. Unless it's about him being the luckier one between the two of them.

After a morning workout with Jon, he returned to the hotel room hoping to grab y/n to go to golf with Zak and the father and son duo of Carlos'.

He's about to call out when y/n steps out of the bathroom, her hair freshly dried, body dressed in a baby pink floral dress that has little yellow flowers on it, bare foot at the moment and her attention fully on her phone as she moves around.

She definitely hasn't realised he's there. So he just sort of takes a moment, enjoying the time of admiring his girlfriend as much as he can.

Y/n is muttering under her breath to herself, too quiet for him to hear from the distance but he can't help but smile in amusement over it. She only mutters to herself when she doesn't know someone else is around, otherwise she'll try to keep her verbalised thoughts silent.

Finally she turns and finds him smirking at her and falls silent, her whole body seeming to drop it's pent up energy as she spots him.

"Hey, how long have you been there?" Y/n frowns moving towards him before a flicker of a smile appears when she pushes onto his toes and kisses him.

"Not too long...long enough." He shrugs then dragging his gaze up and down her body. "I don't know whether to take you out and show you off to every person we see, or rip off that dress and show you how good you look while I fuck you in front of a mirror."

Y/n flusters just at his words, despite her usual eagerness to argue about her not being the one who should be showed off. He can sometimes successfully get her tongue tied and make her fumble a little. He loves every single time he manages it, puts an invisible score under his own name.

"I don't know if Zak would be impressed with you cancelling golf." Y/n finally mumbles before she clears her throat and turns around. "I need to get shoes on."

"God forbid you go bare foot." Lando hums knowing that y/n hates feet, including her own and would do anything to avoid having them out in the fresh air. Lando almost considers it a luxury he's caught her without slippers on or even just with socks on. "I need to change dead quick, not dressed for golf."

Y/n hums waiting, and while he changes, she takes the opportunity to return the gesture of admiring her boyfriend's body. Which in her humble opinion is far more impressive to look at than her own.

"You know, it's moments like this that I realise why other girls hate me so much for dating you." Y/n states hoping to get her own back on him which thankfully works to an extent. He's not quite so prone to getting flustered but she knows an eye roll means she can mark a score under her name.

"Shut up." Lando laughs before he moves over to her. "And you don't deserve hate from anyone."

Y/n hums at that before quickly shoving her feet into her shoes and grabbing her bag. She does play golf, but only so she's not completely bored while watching, it is certainly not a hobby that she'd choose if given the choice.

Lando can't stop his grin over capturing and posting a video to his Instagram of y/n just trying to look like she knows what she's doing while she stands with Zak trying to direct her in as helpful a way as he can.

But y/n is pretty shocking at golf, but Lando would be lying if he said she didn't look good doing it.

"Woooh! That's my girlfriend!" Lando exclaims suddenly making the rest of the group around them laugh while y/n grins at him. "Go on baby! Hit the ball!"

He's only being so loud because this is something she does to put him off his game for her own amusement. He'd like to say he hates her for it, but seeing her smile is well worth the momentary loss of concentration.

To his and certainly Zak's surprise she positions herself before swinging the club and managing to make the best hit she's ever made.

"I think you need to hype her up more often, it has the opposite effect on her to what it has on you." Zak chuckles making her look back with a lot of pride then jogging to Lando.

"I'm not terrible!"

"You are never terrible at anything." Lando states softly making her smile at him brightly. "Got new bragging rights."

"Shut up." Y/n laughs before shaking her head.

Walking through the paddock for the media day which is oddly on a Wednesday, something y/n has made multiple comments about finding very jarring.

"It's colder than I expected." Y/n comments while Lando looks at her for a moment.

She's certainly not dressed as layered up as himself, still wearing a summer dress though he's now going to ruin her light blue tea dress and Nike air forces on her feet which is better than the sandals she considered.

"We'll get you a jacket." Lando smirks while she sighs knowing that Lando is always so eager to have her dressed up in McLaren team uniform. Another form of him getting to brag to people.

When they get into unit, y/n is bundled in one of the layered rain jackets, the blue being quite reminiscent of the old light blue that McLaren had on the car, there's some traces of it on the uniform but it's slowly being worked off of the team colours.

"You look amazing." Lando grins zipping the jacket up for her a bit.

"Yeah...thanks." Y/n hums a little pouty that her outfit isn't what she wanted it to. "I'm gonna get too hot in this, I can tell already."

"You can unzip it if you get too hot." Lando laughs then pulling her forward against himself. "I love you..."

"Mmm...love you too." Y/n smiles quickly pecking his lips.

"Come on we have the track walk to do." Lando sighs earning a small smile. "Is that a yes?"

"I'm going to beat you to the shouting about you." Y/n smirks while Lando laughs a little at her words. "You know I will."

"Not if I do first." Lando shrugs while she narrows her eyes on him taking the challenge.

"Y/n are so annoying." Y/n laughs before she looks at him for a moment.

The two do get out for the track walk and y/n immediately begins shouting to fans.

"Hey guys! He looks good today, right? I know I'm-" Y/n's words are cut off when Lando's hand comes over her mouth and silences her.

"Y/n is looking good in papaya today right?! I think she looks good!" Lando exclaims as the fans just watching with laughter over the couple's shenanigans. Lando's hand is still over her mouth when he turns back to her. "You going to admit defeat?"

A quick headshake leaves him having to endure leaving his hand there while she pokes her tongue out and licks his hand.

"Yeah, that's not going to work." Lando declares while he continues to walk with his hand over her mouth till she's finally slobbered on his hand till he really can't bear keeping it there. "You are so disgusting."

"Thank you." Y/n grins then grimacing when she has to wipe her face clean and squealing when Lando wipes his wet hand on her jacket. "Lando!"

"It's your drool." Lando laughs managing to still wipe his hand on her jacket. There's a somewhat silent agreement of them not continuing their bragging contest. At least not till they get back to the paddock.

That's where they see Max with Charles and Carlos who all turn to look at the two.

"You, you are in uniform." Carlos comments, always one to point out the obvious.

"She looks good right?" Lando grins earning a eye roll since she knows she can't exactly brag about Lando to the other drivers or they'll just take the piss.

"She always looks good." Charles states making Lando immediately push y/n behind his own body looking the man up and down while Charles surrenders his hands as Carlos and Max laugh at the fact Lando is treating Charles as such a threat. "I didn't mean it like that."

"Are you calling me ugly?" Y/n gasps loving to fuel the drama while Lando tsks and pushes her back behind himself.

"Ignore her." Lando instructs before reaching his hand back to grab her own. "We actually need to get to McLaren but good seeing you guys."

Y/n waves at the three, shooting Charles a warm smile since she thinks that she knows that Lando's protectiveness was taking jokingly but also the know when to take a warning.

By the time they get to the unit, she's removed the jacket and Lando is carrying it by the time they are indoors.

"I think I've got a new brag, my F1 driver boyfriend carries all my stuff for me like the gentleman he is." Y/n grins while Lando smiles at her softly when they get up to his driver's room before he tosses the coat down and manages to pick her up then lie her down on before climbing on top of her. "Yeah, thanks. Love to double as a mattress."

"Not something new to grab about?" Lando questions making her fake a laugh from underneath him. "You can say I'm right, I know you want to brag about it."

"You know I think I might be feeding your ego too much these days. May have to stop bragging so much about you to humble you back down to earth." Y/n hums while Lando just lets his weight weigh heavier down against her. "Dick."

"Yeah, you could brag about that for me too. I wouldn't complain." Lando smiles then finally kissing her lightly.

"You can't stay here forever...you have to go back to media duties."

"I know, I just...wanted time alone with you."

Despite Lando's usual extroverted persona, he does seem to sometimes just want moments of being without people. Not surrounded by cameras or just crowds of people. He really loves having moments alone with y/n really.

"Will you...let me do a curl routine with your hair tonight please?" Y/n asks softly while running her hands through his hair.

"Yes. Only because you brag about them in online when I let you."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos

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ravengards-rogue · 1 month

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WHAT SET YOU FREE, BROUGHT YOU TO ME BABY.

rdr2 men + short blurbs about their favorite sex positions.

ft. arthur morgan, john marston, javier escuella, and charles smith.

✧ tags : SPOILER HEAVY, fem + afab!reader, unprotected sex, light angst (in the horny post is crazy im sorry fdkjjkds), very gendered language, javier says one thing in spanish (thank u @nanamimizz), a little sprinkle of plot with each (and some canon divergency), john co-parents w abigail, otherwise just horny. 18+

✧ wc : about 1.4-8k each (6.3k total)

✧ a/n : sorry for making a multi character post for the cowboy game its cooking me to death. my john bias is showing rip. title is from rebel yell by billy idol but i listen to the bvb cover

sorry about charles and javiers but if i edit this anymore im going to level an entire city using hollow purple technique. please rb if you enjoyed i worked kind of hard on whatever this is.

sorry for . the THIRD repost of this i promise i wont after this. its just really bugging me. PLEASE

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ ARTHUR MORGAN + PRONE BONE ;

It’s an odd feelin’ for Arthur.

Wanting something, he means. Wanting anything as much as he wants you. He’s lived a less than quiet life up until now. And he ain’t the brightest, certainly, but living this kind of life teaches you many lessons. One of them being, it’s better not to covet anything. Coveting something you’re not entitled to, well—it’ll lead you places you wouldn’t want to go with a gun.

Arthur has made the mistake of coveting love before, dreamed of a future so completely out of his reach he almost convinced himself it was possible. Dreamed of it so foolishly he’d even go visit a woman he very well ought to forget. It’s his problem, his burden to bear - always desiring outcomes unsuited to him.

He’s just that sort of man he reckons. But he learned his lesson. He tries (tried?) to stay away from it after that. Tried not to pine too much for normalcy when such hopes had failed him twice. The loss of his child completely on his account and the loss of his love at the same fate.

So, wanting you - well, he feels like the world's dullest fool. Really. How is it that Arthur had fallen in love with someone again? It had all just happened so quickly. You were another woman he’d saved from the O’Driscolls, though it wasn’t like you were no damsel. A lot of those men were dead by the time they arrived. That sort of perseverance would stick with you while you traveled together. Much like Sadie, you didn’t take well to housework - you liked to earn your keep. Though you’re not nearly so trigger happy.

You’re quiet, thoughtful, well-read. Plus you’re good at making money. That’s why Dutch don't complain about you joining them, he figures.

(Arthur tries not to pry into it too much at first, but he eventually learns that you’re gambling. Which is how you’re able to make such a fast turn around. A prim little lady like you makes for a fine poker player, and you love to play men out of their money. He thinks it’s one of the funniest and most interesting things about you. He can’t help but love you a little more for it. )

When the feelings in him start to stir, Arthur tries to overlook it. Arthur convinces himself, time and time again - that there’s no way he’ll grow more tender about you. Eventually, it’ll die down. You’re a decent woman is all, a kind one - who’s easy for him to love and even easier for him to confide in. In your time together, you often come to Arthur and you always seem to have some profound wisdom he is so sorely lacking. Someone easy to love, who does not expect much from Arthur at all. It’s only natural a lonely, covetous man like him would start to dream about you. He tells himself, it will pass eventually. Should he simply let it run by him, it will pass. But Arthurs a fool, you’ll remember.

Of course, by the time he understood all that - he already loved you enough that he couldn’t bear it. It was already too late and it wasn’t going to change any time soon. Especially not while everything changed around him.

So, Arthur is undoubtedly a fool, but he’s lucky. He felt divinely blessed when you’d returned his feelings for him so politely. A coy little smile on your face, a laugh like you thought he was silly for being doubtful. Arthur tried to explain himself but you wouldn’t hear a word of it. Maybe that’s another thing he loves so much about you. There’s nothing he ever needs to explain.

In any case, all Arthur seems to do lately is want you. Wants you when it’s inconvenient. Wants you before he wants liquor or a cigarette or some other vice. Any time anything goes wrong, you’re the first thing his mind can conjure up for relief. That pretty smile and that self-assured way of living. It’s hard to get time alone in camp. And Arthur is a man in love, so any touch could be enough to set him on fire. Last week you hugged his waist a little before giving him a kiss goodbye and he had to listen to you laugh yourself into a fit as he waited for…little Arthur to settle down.

He don’t get many chances to be with you. Lay with you in that way that grown folk in love do. Though, if the two of you book it somewhere for a few days - the camp knows better not to ask where you’ve been. But it’s not often you get to really be together, where it’s peaceful to do that. Someone’s always hounding one of you to do something.

Arthur is a lucky man though, like he said. Today he had time. Today he’s alone with you in a beat up little saloon and today he gets to do as he likes. He gets to be greedy. And it’s an odd feeling for him, really, to want something so bad he disregards everything else in the world for a little while.

Feeling you, though - absolves the guilt for wanting. He’d be stupid to want you any less desperately.

Arthur’s favorite way to have you is on your stomach. Laid flat, just barely pushed up against him as he fucks you deep. You’ll fuck like rabbits for a little while and Arthur will wear you out just like this, maneuvering you until you’re pinned all underneath his weight. You lose any fight you might have, too exhausted to worry yourself with pleasing him - and when you’re like that, you let Arthur take care of you.

(He really ain’t talented at much, but he’s good with his hands. Being dexterous is part of being a talented shot. When Arthur has the time to spread you sweet in his lap and make you cum all over his fingers, he does so for as long as he can. At least until you beg him so sweetly otherwise. The same hands, soiled with gunsmoke, look so good so deep in you. At least in his eyes.)

Wet and pliable and helpless. Arthur loves you like that. He knows, he knows you’re anything but - but he’d be damned to pretend this don’t feel best. Tight, wet cunt so welcoming from all the pleasure he’s ripped out of you. Your bodies pressed together, your heartbeat pulsing through your skin. All sticky, honeyed need and animal desire as Arthur lets all of him sink on top of you. His heavy, lumbering form crushing you in - trapping you somewhere you can’t run from him. The curve of your spine pushed against his chest, ticklish.

Every inch of his body that so wholly wants for you, Arthur aches to make you feel. Burn it in you lest anything happens that risks your forgetting.

He can feel his hips meet your ass, backside squished against him - desperate for deeper friction. Whining. You’re whining to him so pretty, a pillow pushed underneath you to give friction to needy clit.

Arthur can feel how much you want more. Maybe Arthur is greedy, but he likes that look much better on you. Your pussy is sucking him in so tight, silken walls pulsing with every shallow little measured thrust. Arthur lets his arm wrap around your neck, your face pressing into his bicep. You moan again and he laughs.

“Arthur,” Your words come out in a messy slur. He lets his scruffy face press against your neck, a kiss behind your ear. He wants to kiss you all over. There’s not enough hours in the day. “Oh, god, Arthur,”

“Still feels good, then, I’m guessin’,”

“Shut up,” You huff and press your cheek into his arm. He doesn’t bother stifling his laugh. “Still feels…big. Stretchin’ me out—hicc—so much,”

You really don’t try to rile him up - but you do a damn good job of it anyway. He groans, grunts as he pulls back and pistons himself in you. A gesture half-way between a kiss and the warning shot of a gun. The sound of skin hitting skin echoes, noisy and vulgar. Arthur don’t pay it much mind. He laughs against your shoulder.

“One of these days, that moutha’ yours is gonna get me in real trouble.”

You giggle back at him

“What kinda trouble is that now?”

Even from your side glance, you’ve got that lovely little smile on you. Fuckdrunk and ingratiating, like you know he’s wrapped so tight around your fingers. And he is, like nothing else in the world could have him. A wave of possession curls up over Arthur, makes him press more of himself into you. Onto you. Another deep push of his cock, sliding against the tenderest parts of you. Staking some silent desire in you. He wants and wants and wants, and hopes that whatevers above him can forgive him for making the same mistake thrice.

“Dunno,” Arthur comments, teeth grazing your shoulder and kissing the indentations “Got our whole lives together to find out, I reckon.”

“I’ll hold you to it, Mister.”

Arthur laughs. “Hope you do, Miss.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ JOHN MARSTON + COWGIRL ;

John doesn’t say that he loves you lightly.

Hardly a thing he says can be said that way. Could never afford too. In an alternate universe where nothing goes wrong in his life, maybe - but he has a hard time picturing what the hell that’d look like. A version of himself so untainted, without all of the violence and blood and gunsmoke? Foreign. John can’t picture it worth a damn.

Who John is without a deadbeat father and a dead Ma is somewhere far beyond his reach. Ain’t nothing about his life, at any point, lighthearted.

On top of all that mess, he’s got a boy at age four with a woman he ain’t married too. And that relationship is always on rocky waters, even though John’s decided to do right by his own flesh and blood sometime ago. Most things in the world he should feel good about he doesn’t, and most things he should understand render him clueless. He’s a mess on multiple accounts, and he still doesn’t know how exactly he’s meant to approach this life of his. He knows what he should do, but nothing about how to do it.

John doesn’t come to love you easily ‘cause he wouldn’t know easy love if it hit him in his face. Quickly and painfully, but not easily.

Your return to the gang was an odd one. You were an old presence and your disappearance was an even older story. John thought he’d never gonna see you again for sure. You’d been a part of the gang back long before all of the nonsense that took place in Blackwater and you left about the time Arthur’s boy died. John don’t remember why you left exactly. He thinks it was a fight with Hosea, of all things.

Dutch weren't too happy about it neither, but Dutch back then didn’t make a show.

So you left, and John buried every feeling he ever harbored. You found all them again up in Colter, where you’d been living out your days lately. According to you, in the middle of riding, you thought you’d heard Arthur. So, somewhat recklessly, you went chasing him. Didn’t matter if he was just something your mind conjured. According to you, if it was him, it was at least worth checking to make sure. You’d reunited with Arthur and after some tears, he rode with you back to camp.

Upon your return, the gang welcomed you with open arms.

You’d done a lot in your time alone.You spent most of that time just like that, a ghost wanderin’ the planes. You weren’t gonna stay with ‘em, but Arthur insisted and Hosea did too. That wasn’t enough to compel, so John was last to chip in. You should stay, at least until Valentine.

(Silently he thought, you should stay so John can trace memories of you. It was so long ago, he should’ve forgotten all of it. You were a year older than John and always on his ass but easy for him to talk to. Didn’t fuss over his failures. You just barely grew into your womanhood when you set your sights on running away. You wanted more than this life, and John never really forgave you for it. His first heartbreak, maybe - but it’s all too blurry for that.

You understood him though better than anyone, and one day you were gone. Nothing’s really the same.)

You changed tremendously and not at all. He missed you. God, did he ever. Missed you a long time. Didn’t realize how much until you came back and everything in him felt right again. Your return stirred up old feelings and everyone noticed. He wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, but he really wasn’t trying to fall back into anything with you. Not how he did.

Just like you did back then, you read John like an open book. And just like he did back then, he loved you all too helplessly for it. It was just all too easy again, to be with you.

You stayed out of the way at first, for the sake of his family.

But, John ain’t a half-decent man even when he’s trying to be. So he set himself on being with you. It wasn’t easy - most things with him aren’t as you’ll see. Having you around again straightened what was left of his common sense, at least. He told Abigail before telling you. He figured you wouldn’t even reply unless that was all out of the way. That turned out as well as you’d expect.

It was settled between the two of you thereafter. He’s lucky she didn’t toss him into the street.

Everything works out in a way. As best they can between broken people. You make peace with each other. His boy loves you like a third parent (you’re better with him than John is). Abigail commends you for straightening out such a worthless man though she’s a little melancholy. John just tries to stay out of the way. You’ll be together in the end. There’s a plan with the five of you.

But until it all falls apart, he doesn’t get all that much time with you.

There’s moments like tonight, though. Rare ones. Together out robbin’, cooped out some place in the woods where no one is around. A place so shaded by nightfall that John can absolve himself of every sin he’s ever committed in his life and pray at the altar between your hips. John is convinced he might find worship like he’s always hearing about there whenever he touches you, the marred skin of his hands and knuckles reading the scripture of your body with careful precision.

You might turn him into a literate man yet.

John glances up at you. Only the light of the fire and the moonlight there to accompany as he watches you over him. You’re beautiful. John couldn’t picture a single thing more perfect in his life.

Your hands against his bare chest, nails digging into the flesh as you lean forward. Your palm dug into the dirt, John finds his own hands rested at your hips. John looks at you awe-struck, cock twitching at the mere sight. His heart settles in his throat, but he’s calm all at the same time. With you, he forgets. All of it. The worst of himself.

Bare naked and so close, he watches your face as you strain. You feel soft. Every inch of you in comparison to him is. A bead of sweat slides down the valley of your breasts. John cranes his neck up to catch it with his tongue, licking a stripe up to your neck - letting his teeth sink into the space between your jaw and neck. You want to make it last and John doesn’t blame you. It’s so rare you get to have each other so unrestrained. John can feel all the ways you want him, can see it in your face - all pinched with need. You’re holding yourself back, trying to get it to last as long as the night will allow. It’s cute in a way.

It’s different than how he’s used to seein’ you, all cocky or otherwise. You’re needy like this. Just needy. His stomach turns with lust, jolting through him like a strike of lightning. His cock twitches against your folds, sliding against them. Pure admiration watching the sticky mess of his pre-cum and your own arousal mix together and smear on your mound. You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, faint and tender as you fall forward just a little. John laughs against your neck.

“Darlin’,” He says with a huff. Not malice. Something akin to bliss, where he can rarely afford it “Have I done something to piss you off today?”

You pick yourself up and look down at him and frown. John kisses the corner of your mouth, resisting some crude desire to fuck up into you.

“Just,” You grunt as the tip of his cock passes over your throbbing clit, your whole body wracking to a shiver. John looks awed. “Pent up. Goddamn it,”

John figures it out quickly after that. It’s this part of it he likes. The proximity. The closeness. Feeling the tremble in your hands as they struggle to keep up right, muscles strained in your forearms. Being able to hold you, to keep the pace or let you take the lead. The clear view of your face as pleasure travels up through your spine and melts into you. He grabs your hips, the fat dimpling underneath his fingers as he moves you along. He can’t wait. You don’t bother to protest seeing John can’t seem to bear it anymore. You collapse into his chest, your tits pushed flat against his pecs.

His cock throbs near painfully, sliding against your soft cunt before finding himself lined with you. He thinks to himself that it’s this he was looking for, as he tucks your face against his neck and lets his tip stretch you out slowly. Such a vice like grip, stretching - resisting him like your whole body can’t anticipate the sensation of fullness. You gasp against his throat.

“John,”

What a sweet sound from your mouth, even sweeter as he bucks himself up. Keeps you steady and lets his cock stretch you full, feel you deep. “That’s right, my angel. Didn’t think you’d remember my name when you’re all worked up like this.”

“You’re,” You gasp and John thrusts, thrusts hard until he’s buried to the hilt. You shudder, walls pulsing around him as he bottoms out and John laughs like the terrible man he is. He fucks you again, over and over - a wicked little smile watching “Awful. Just awful, John Marston,”

“Ain’t that the truth,” He hums against your mouth as his hand snakes between your bodies, thumb rubbing against your clit. “Wonder what kinda woman that makes you,”

“A foolish one,”

John laughs.

“I sure do love you for it,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆JAVIER ESCUELLA + SIDEWAYS ;

Javier hasn’t thought about much other than surviving.

It’s been like that. Been like that for a while, probably much longer than he cares to admit. He’s sure any sane man would suffer the same plight if they lead the same life. Anything but survival is little more than a pipe-dream, so Javier tries not to go for anything too strongly. In that aspect he’s like many of the members of the gang he’s in, perhaps that’s why he sticks to them. There’s that phrase Hosea’s always saying - that misery loves company. Javier will take any decent company he can get. He’s desperate for it just like he’s desperate for most things - inwardly, silently.

Some of that desperation may be symptomatic of who he is. After he killed a man in a crime of passion for a woman he loved and ran from a government who would sooner exile him than change, Javier decided to not dream anymore. Every revolutionary who dreams too hopefully pays the price in blood.

(Javier thinks there’s probably nothing in the world as true as this. A form of gospel. He remembers the first dream he ever had after his uncle passed. Not a nightmare but a dream. He remembers the exact feeling of waking up, cold and confused. What is a dream, except a memento of survivor's guilt that loyal people cling onto fruitlessly. When hope starts to feel like a debt he’s going to waste his life paying back, Javier loses sight of everything. The beginning of the end in some way.)

His mind doesn’t occupy itself with anything bigger than that. Since Dutch found him starving, there was never a desire to try and live off aspirations. He pays his penance with loyalty and honor. Practices some form of humility and tries, not too desperately, to carve a place for him to fit. All without drawing too much attention or caring too much. If you ignore the bleeding in his fingers, his penchant for knives over guns, and his refusal to talk too long about the place he comes from - it’s nearly believable that none of it matters.

Except loyalty. All Javier honors is that. It’s the only thing he has some part in choosing, so he choses it every time. Living like that didn’t make any difference to him. He was surrounded by mostly decent people. He didn’t hate the life he was living.

It wasn’t important. It didn’t matter. His directionless-ness, his floating. Hadn’t since he joined the gang. At least not to anyone but him. He didn’t know what he’s meant to do or if he was meant to proceed with this forever. He was (is) loyal to Dutch. To the gang.

He hadn’t thought much about what comes after.

And it didn’t matter until he met you

He’d sworn off love after seeing where it got him, at least until he could love more dispassionately. When the women bring you back from their outing from Valentine and beg Dutch to let you stay, Javier doesn’t think much of it all. He thinks you’re pretty, if it counts for anything. But he doesn’t let himself linger on you too long.

But that’s the sequence with you two, really. The whole time. He doesn’t linger until he does. It doesn't matter until it does. He doesn’t think about you until it’s all he can think about.

You go for him first. And it’s in little, unimportant ways that might not mean shit to you but mean a whole lot to him. You have some kind of tenderness about you that you wear deep, runs through your blood like love ran through his once long ago. Some softness he can’t really measure with his own. It’s not that that gets him. It’s that sometimes you look at Javier like he's … someone you want to see. He forgot what that was like all together. It felt foreign to him the first time it happened. Seeing how you light up when Javier is around.

You wanted to see him. You noticed that he’s gone. If he sang by the campfire - you’d sit by him and listen. If he was out in the trees keeping guard, he’d hear the soft call of your voice to Grimshaw ask Where’s Javier? And sometimes the girls will make fun of you - but you wouldn’t deny anything they said. It’s so small and ordinary. He would’ve never considered himself simple before meeting you. Nothing is simple. Nothing.

(But then, Javier thinks of the kinds of songs he sings and the way he takes care of himself and the clothes he wears and maybe Javier has some kind of affinity for preciousness that explains all of it.)

When Javier confesses his feelings for you - he finds the affair to be like most things between you. Ordinary love, not really between outlaws but people. It’s up against a tree while you share a drink and he’s looking at the curve of your mouth and the plum color Karen’s so kindly put on you. And his head fills with kissing you so he does. A breathless confession between alcohol stains and the feeling of your hands curled in the lapels of his suit.

From there, Javier is your lover. He’s not interested in the business of secrets, but he tries not to let it show too much. Not that he doesn’t want to. He wants to show you off more than anything - at least some part of him does. But the other part wants to keep you away from prying eyes, keep his love for you only where the both of you can see. If he could keep that pretty lovestruck face you make all to himself forever he would.

When he gets a chance to whisk you away from everything, Javier jumps at the chance. Not often, but Javier makes time for you. Makes time to indulge in love he thought he’d never find again.

That’s why he’s here with you in the middle of nowhere, a ghost town where no one knows you.. A reserved room with a bed and lowlights all to yourselves.

Javier can’t keep his hands to himself and he doubts you expect him too.

For Javier, this sense of proximity is what intoxicates him most. The warmth of your bare skin in the slivers of yourself exposed. Javier is fond of finding you like this after a long day of horse riding. Of sneaking touches to your waist as you push back against him to sleep, only to find his desire for you - laid clearly. He likes hearing you whimper feeling his length poke against your back, the embarrassment when it dawns on you that he wants you after all. Always surprised, even though Javier tells you it so often. Whispers it along your neck and shoulders whenever you’re at camp together.

You like the feeling of his hands so Javier always starts with them. He squeezes your hips. Planes his palms over your chest before squeezing your chest, pushing the fat between his fingers. You like the way they look when they grope you, his chin resting against your shoulder as you spoon. In the lowlights of a cheap hotel - Javier gets the perfect view of your silhouette. Your body is sensitive over the fabric of your gown, heat prickling through you.

Javier who is always so gentle with you, rouses so deep listening to your whining as he explores your body. The suffocating closeness of a single bed intoxicates him.

“Javier,” Your voice is sweet and thin. Plays in Javier’s head like music and makes his mouth curl up into a catlike grin as you push back on him. You look slightly over your shoulder, lips pushed into a pout. “Please,”

He tugs at the fabric of your nightgown. The top half pulls haphazard underneath your tits, nipples perky and sensitive to touch while the skirt pools at your waist. What gets Javier like this is the desperation. Wanting so much but not being able to look too long. A way for you to mirror him, it’s a matter of possession. In some stupid way. Bunching your clothes up, pushing the fabric of your panties to one side, letting his arm wrap around your waist to touch and tease. All of these are imprints of his longing, tucked faithful into your side as he whispers sweet nothings into your skin.

His cock twitches as it pushes past your folds with finality, your hands curling up at your sides. You whimper softly, let your cheek rest against the sheets as Javier takes you on your side. Terribly close, you fuss as you feel him slide every inch into you slow, your hands reaching back for purchase. It’s the fit of you against him so perfect, the silent strokes of intimacy, the hush-hush giggles between the sheets that Javier loves most about fucking you like this. Too enamored with you to look too closely, he lets his eyes flutter closed. He could get drunk just being in your space.

He carves out space for himself inside of you, feels your cunt accommodate for him like it loves him. A feverishness breaks out as his forehead rests on the space between your shoulders, an uncharacteristic whiny quality in his words.

“Ser mío,” Javier says - as a reflection of what he really wants, to belong only to you. “Belong to me.”

Darling as you always are, you nod softly.

“All yours, Javier,” You whimper, finding his hand. “Forever,”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆ CHARLES SMITH + MATING PRESS ;

Wandering.

He’s been doing it his whole life. Not something he’s proud of. Or ashamed of either, really. Just how things have gone for him until now. Charles doesn’t think his life has been any better or any worse than anyone else's. At least not when he weighs it with the same kind of pragmatism he does most things. It’s been a hard life, and a miserable one in so many ways. Still, it’s not something Charles is too keen to dwell on.

There’s just something thematic about loss in Charles' life in a way he finds completely unpleasant. It’s more constant than anything. Loss of his home, loss of his mother, loss of his father in an attempt to find what’s best for him. It’s some overarching message that hangs over his head like a shadow. Everywhere he goes, trying to rectify his own solitude seems to come back to him. It doesn’t help that it’s an unfair world to start with, and would’ve been if he had just been black or just been native. But Charles is both, and has lived a life that reflects that specific injustice thoroughly.

There’s not really anything Charles can do about it, at its baseline. When he left his father, the name of the game had simply been survival. He was well-equipped enough for that at least. But after survival comes trying to live and trying to live isn’t something so simple. Jumping in and out of gangs who thought they could get away with slighting him or generally being surrounded by unpleasant people. Trying to find something in pages of book and scripture, or in the way water ripples when it rains.

He’s never felt any one way towards the gang. Even when he joined them all the way back in the Grizzlies. Lost in the cold, they’d crossed paths as Charles was out hunting. A lot of it feels like a blur. Of all the folks he’s met in his travels though, Dutch treats him fair and the rest of them (or most of them) are decent, honest folk. Charles stays in the Van Der Linde gang for such simple reasons as trying to stay alive and be somewhere that isn’t actively hostile towards him. He’s a good gunman, and a better fighter. The inner workings of gang politics and forging connection isn’t at the forefront of his mind, with the exception of the kindest few.

The Van Der Linde gang is just a place where he can figure out what his purpose is meant to be, even if he doesn’t find it there. He’s never expecting anything to come out from his loyalties to it.

Of all the things Charles expects of his life in the Van Der Linde gang, love is at the very bottom of the list.

Maybe it’s about time he stops being surprised by these things happening to him one or way another.

You were a member of the gang far before him, and someone Charles took to quickly. You’d joined the gang not too long after John from what Arthur tells him. Though the brunette speaks about you more fondly than he does his brother. A problem child at the start, according to Arthur - always getting into all sorts of trouble. Something you seemingly feel embarrassed about now and refuse to bring up. Charles has a hard time picturing it having only known you as you are.

The woman you’ve grown into is someone else completely, and Charles sees that in you all the time. Compassionate like Hosea but charismatic like Dutch, and clever. And you’re beautiful, too, though Charles feels a little shallow admitting that’s part of what drew you into him.

It wasn’t Charles that approached you first. You were the one who spoke to him, as often as you thought necessary but never in a way he found invasive. He doesn’t know what it is exactly about you that charms him near instantly. You’re enigmatic to a fault. It’s like you always know exactly what to say and exactly when to say it. Even more than that, you’re a terribly pleasant person to be around. Subtly warm and free of assumptions. When Charles talks to you about anything, you listen without making him feel like it’s any sort of burden to you. You don’t pry, don’t make missteps. Treat him fair, and then some.

It’s unbearably simple, just how quickly and how easily he comes to adore you. And, in some ways, Charles knows better than to believe that his purpose is loving someone. There’s more to it than that, surely - after everything.

But then, he’ll watch you do something. Watch you do some kind of menial work that he could do for you instead. Thinks of skinning animals for new clothes and chopping wood and rubbing the soap off of you and all of a sudden it makes him feel anchored. Everything he could do for you. You anchor Charles easily, with a wispy smile. Make him want to find purpose in life with you. He never wants to be somewhere you’re not.

He confesses it to you just like that, and like you do with most things - you accept and reciprocate without making too much of a fuss.

For Charles, making love is an extension of wanting to ground himself in you. A distant siren song - the intersection of lust and bone deep adoration. Like most things, you’re the one to approach first every time. A soft hand on his forearm, a whisper that you want him. It’s with ease that he draws you away. Drags from you camp during nightfall with his horse and blankets and picks a spot with the perfect view of the stars.

Charles watches you under the glow of moonlight, his vision adjusting to you easily. Naked underneath him, laid on your back with your legs folded at your knees - heaving deep breaths. He can see the sweat beading down your skin, your chest rising and falling - and the perfect view of your pussy. His hands and mouth are wet as you breathe out. He finds himself smiling at you, his own erection pressed against your thigh, pre-cum leaking out in a mesmerized haze.

You lift your hands up and he leans down, surprised as you wrap them around his neck and pull him closer to you. Your mouths meet like that, and Charles laughs against your lips as you kiss him so eagerly. You blink at him, pretty. You’re always prettier than he remembers you being the last time he looks.

“Charles,” You frown at him. “It’s impolite to keep a lady waiting,”

He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Sorry, my love. I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Well, I’m fine with it,” You repeat, almost petulant. Charles frowns. “‘Sides, it ain’t my first time taking you, you know?”

“Well, I’m not fine with it.”

You pout, looking at him all endeared. Charles couldn’t help but love you even if he tried. “You ain’t gonna hurt me. C’mon. Please?”

“Please, what?”

You look at him aghast before breaking out into a faux-scandalized giggle. “Now you—please fuck me. Pretty, please.”

Charles feels something tickling against his spine hearing you say it. He couldn’t imagine getting sick of you in his whole life. “Yeah, that’s good to hear.”

You make an indignant noise but it’s silenced quickly as Charles positions himself against your entrance. He has plenty of discipline when it comes to matters like these, but right now - he feels like he’s going to lose his mind. Not nearly enough patience to wait. He lets his hands go up underneath your knees just to have something to hold onto.

You make a little gasp as the tip of his cock pushes into you. Your walls are so soft, likely after all the orgasms he’d given you prior. You stop him in a shocked gasp, and Charles immediately readies himself to pull out. As if sensing his hesitance, you shake your head.

“Charles,” You gasp, the words caught in your throat and hoarse “Deep. Want it deep,”

His abdomen tightens, cocking twitching hard at your words. He agrees silently to your desires.

When it comes to sex, there’s very little Charles dislikes.

But this is his favorite. He’s simple but no other position lets him see you so close. He likes the way your eyes widen as he pushes up underneath your knees and folds you underneath his weight. How you look pinned down under him, the perfect view of your eyes rolling back into your head and the proximity from your face to his. He lets his cock stretch you out slowly, throbbing each time your nails dig desperately into arms trying to keep your composure. Fuck you feel so tight like that. Soft pussy, dripping and sticky. You suck him in relentlessly, and Charles groans as he bottoms out. You take every inch of him so well. So perfect like the rest of you.

Your eyes flutter open as he stays there, buried in you in complete bliss. You’re dazed.

“Kiss?”

Surprise followed by adoration, he abides by your request easily. Overwhelmed with it as he presses a chaste peck to your mouth, he laughs. “As many as you want.”

Anything you want, Charles thinks, he would give to you.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#arthur morgan x reader #john marston x reader #javier escuella x reader #charles smith x reader #rdr2 x reader #rogues love letters #red dead redemption 2 x reader #THIS IS THE LAST TIME. THE LAST FUCKING TIME !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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sagesolsticewrites · 3 months

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religion's in your lips, the altar is my hips

in which Steve takes care of you after a bad day

- including but not limited to: praise kink, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), Steve lowkey being a service dom 👀

(this is. very self-indulgent. very veryyyyyy self-indulgent. you have been warned <3)

a/n: huuuge shoutout to @upsidedownwithsteve's (aka Emmy, Queen of Smutty Sunday <3) most recent smutty Sunday event for giving me inspiration to write my very first smutty fic! Obligatory disclaimer that yes, this is my very first smut fic ever, I am an ✨asexual virgin✨ please manage expectations accordingly, yada yada yada. Also so many hugs to my bestie Kenz @fangirl-imagines for looking this over before I posted it ☺️ Kenzie has some incredible fics, go support her y'all!

Word count: 2870

Warnings: THIS IS SMUT. MINORS BEGONE. 🔞

Please like/rb if you enjoyed! 🤍

You let yourself into your apartment with a sigh, shoulders relaxing the tiniest bit as you step over the threshold into your home and finally toe off your heels.

Bypassing the darkened kitchen and empty living room, you open the door to your bedroom, where you knew you’d find a shirtless Steve in the middle of his post-work ritual of playing some game on his computer.

He looks up as you enter, face brightening with a smile as he greets you.

“Hey baby, how was—”

In lieu of an answer, you flop face first onto the bed with a groan.

You can hear the smile fade from his voice as he hisses sympathetically, “That bad, huh?”

You lift your chin so it’s propped up on the pillow as you explain your terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day.

“You know that project that Marie was working on? She asked me for help on it, and I gave her some pointers, but she said she still wasn’t really understanding it so I ended up having to do all of it for her. And she’ll probably take all the credit for it, too.” You grumble, rolling your eyes, “And we had that meeting with our new clients, and my boss basically volun-told me to take notes for it, even though that’s really the liason’s job, and then she criticized me for not taking as detailed notes as Lauren even though that’s literally Lauren’s job! And she was there, she could’ve taken the notes, I don’t even—”

You shake your head in exasperation, shifting topics, “And then I didn’t even have time for lunch because Sara wanted me to help train the interns, and…” You end your rant with a groan, letting your face drop back into the pillow. “‘M just. So tired.”

“Sweetheart…” Steve’s voice turns soft as the pillow underneath your head, and he gets up from his spot at the desk to climb onto the bed, pulling you into his arms.

You curl into him instinctively, your head finding that space in the crook of his neck that feels like it was made for you personally, one hand coming up to toy with the curls at the nape of his neck, tracing patterns along the freckles and moles dotted along his skin.

“What can I do to help, honey?” Your boyfriend asks, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Jus’ wanna… I dunno, just. Stop.” You mumble against his shoulder, shrugging and curling further into him.

He hums in understanding, grabbing the hand that’s currently drawing invisible hearts around the moles near his collarbone and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“You’ve been doing so much for everyone today,” he murmurs, voice layered with understanding and adoration as he leans in and peppers tiny kisses over your forehead, your nose, your eyelids, and you relax even more as his voice washes over you, “Worked so hard.”

He pulls you closer, scattering kisses all over as you finally release all the tension you’ve been holding, letting out a sigh and shifting in his arms to face him. You don’t realize you’re straddling him until you’re pressed nearly flush against him, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

His lips brush over every part of your face, down to your neck and then back up as you become putty in his hands, murmuring soft words of praise to you the whole time.

“You just need to stop working now, huh? Need to stop thinking,” His lips draw a path to your ear, where he whispers, “need to let someone else do all the work, huh, baby?”

A shiver runs down your spine, constantly in awe of the power just his voice has over you. His hand settles on your hip, a comforting, grounding weight while his other hand brushes a strand of hair back from your forehead. His lips work their way back down over your cheek, stopping to hover just over yours, mouths brushing together as he murmurs in a voice like silk, “Is that what you want, honey? Want me to take care of you?”

Warm chocolate eyes meet yours, soft, caring, always ensuring he has your consent before he does anything.

At your near-imperceptible nod, he drags his hand up to cup your chin, thumb dragging along your bottom lip.

“Need your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, and that’s all the confirmation he needs to surge up and capture your lips with his.

As you brace yourself on his shoulders, his hands move to the thin strip of exposed skin where your shirt has ridden up. Your kisses become hungrier, ignoring your need for oxygen in favor of Steve’s plush, kiss-swollen lips, and he slowly drags up the hem of your shirt, breaking the kiss briefly to get your permission.

At your eager nod, your shirt is off and tossed to some corner of the room, his mouth eagerly on yours once more.

You can feel exactly how much he’s enjoying this through his sweats, and you instinctively begin to rock in his lap, dragging your increasingly damp core over his.

His hands grip your hips, the familiar feeling sending a thrill through you… but rather than guiding your movements like he normally would, he holds them still.

You pull away, brow furrowed, but before you can voice your confusion, he flips you onto your back, moving to hover over you in one smooth movement.

“I told you,” he murmurs against your lips in a tone that sends a pulse of scorching heat to your core, “I’m doing all the work, sweetheart.”

The whimper you let out is muffled by his lips on yours once more, his wandering hands and hungry kisses making short work of turning you into a moaning, gasping mess.

“Steve,” you whine out his name as his lips travel down to your neck, and you can feel his smile against the hollow of your throat before he returns to licking and sucking dark patches into your skin, the occasional use of his teeth making delicious shivers shoot up your spine.

“What is it, sweetheart?” He mumbles against your skin, trailing his lips along your collarbone. His eyes meet yours, a mischievous twinkle mixed with the searing heat in them turning you molten as he asks, “What do you need?”

Unable to find the words, your hand finds his hair instead — God, that hair — and begins pushing him down towards where you really want him.

“‘M gettin’ there, honey, I promise,” he grins, pausing your efforts to press a kiss to the valley between your breasts, “Lemme take my time and I promise it’ll be worth it, ok?”

He reaches up to toy with the strap of your bra— a simple nude thing you could get away with wearing under a white shirt at work— a questioning look in his eyes answered by a furious nod from you.

He makes short work of the clasp, and that really should not be as hot as it is, but— oh who are you kidding, even his breathing is insanely hot right now.

You throw your head back as he presses kisses all over your chest, mumbling against your skin the whole time about how pretty you are, just gorgeous sweetheart, God, I can’t believe I get to do this for you…

Your head goes deliciously fuzzy with the praise, and you can’t quite form words so all you can do when he takes your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it for good measure, is let out a keening “Ohhh” and instinctively tighten your grip on his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Steve groans, the noise sending heat racing through your body, and you grin knowing you were the one to elicit it, “You sound fucking incredible.” He murmurs more praise as he turns his attention to your other nipple, giving it just as much attention and eliciting more gasps and moans and whines from you before he continues his journey south.

You lift your head and watch as Steve Harrington fucking beams when he reaches your stomach, your pouch poking out slightly more than you’d like over the waistband of your jeans.

He meets your eyes, his own swimming with sincerity as he begins to scatter kisses over your midsection.

“You”

Kiss

“Are”

Kiss

“Fucking”

Kiss

“Stunning”

Kiss

When it seems like he’s covered every single inch of your exposed skin in kisses, remaining stubbornly focused on your torso when what you really want is for him to be significantly lower, he meets your eyes as he plays with the waistband of your jeans, once again wordlessly asking your permission.

And once again, your furious nodding is all the consent he needs to peel your jeans off and toss them away.

“Sweetheart.” He breathes, wide eyes on where your jeans once were, “Honey. Baby. Are you trying to kill me?” He says in a strangled voice at the sight of your simple lacy panties in a deep, wine-purple color— a color Steve once drunkenly confessed was his favorite, though he told anyone who asked he preferred red.

You bite your lip in an attempt to contain your grin, “I thought you might like those.”

“Like them?” He murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh, looking up through lidded eyes to meet your gaze as his own darkens, “I never wanna see you in anything else again.”

Your toes curl, and your breaths become shallow in anticipation as he scatters slow kisses all along your inner thighs, carefully spreading them apart, stopping when he gets to the edge of the purple lace.

He holds your gaze, gauging your reaction as instead of pulling them down over your hips to toss to yet another corner of the room, he simply…

Pulls.

The lace.

To the side.

You barely have time to let out a quiet, shaky, “Oh my God,” at the ravenous look on Steve’s face before his mouth is on you and you forget how to think, you forget how to breathe, you forget everything except Steve.

Let it be known: Steve Harrington knew how to eat a girl out.

He licks a thick, fat stripe up your center, gathering the moisture collected there before darting up to flick at your clit, an action that has you gripping the sheets like a lifeline, a stuttering moan that sounds vaguely like your boyfriend’s name escaping from your lips. His arms hook around your thighs, pulling you close in an attempt to keep your hips grounded, and he continues a few more passes of the same lick, flick pattern until you’re a writhing mess underneath him, his current strategy both too much and not enough.

He pauses just long enough to meet your eyes, pressing a single kiss to your clit that sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, before diving in.

His tongue finds your entrance with ease, the way his nose pushes through the thatch of wiry hair to nudge at your clit providing extra stimulation as he makes short work of making you fall apart. His tongue swirls through your folds as he lets out a languid moan at your taste.

“So fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart.” He mumbles against your core, “So perfect, lettin’ me take care of you. This is all you needed, huh?” His eyes flick up to meet yours as you shudder and moan underneath him, struggling to keep your eyes on him.

He licks another languid path through your folds, savoring your taste, before continuing, his voice muffled as he licks and sucks at your entrance “Jus’ needed me to give you a break, needed me to tell you it’s okay to turn off your brain and jus’—” Steve punctuates his last words by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking gently “—be a good girl for me.”

The combination of stimulation to your clit and Steve’s words has your hips arching off the bed, despite your boyfriend’s best efforts to keep you still. You can feel him grin against you and let out a dark chuckle at the moan you let out at his last words in particular, the way your hand tightens and pulls at his hair all the evidence he needs.

Still, he asks you, though he doesn’t quite expect a coherent response.

“Aw, sweetheart. You like it when I call you a good girl? You like bein’ a good girl for me?” He purrs in a voice like syrup, lips still brushing your folds.

“Fuck, I— yes, Stevie,” you whine brokenly, gently gripping his hair in an attempt to bring him closer to where you want him, whimpering softly, “Stevie please.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, scattering kisses frustratingly just outside your core, “Jus’ trust me, I gotcha.”

You resist the urge to move, to just grab him and put him where you want him, even as you let out a frustrated whine.

Just as your patience is about to run out, you feel him smirk against you before diving back in, holding your legs apart as he sloppily licks and sucks at your entrance, his tongue diving deep inside you.

You let out a gasping moan as he attacks your core, practically clawing at his hair in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer, your brain going fuzzy and then melting entirely when you hear the endless praise falling from his lips as he eats you out.

“So good for me sweetheart, just perfect— shit, do you have any idea how good you taste?” He groans against you, his thumb coming up to gently circle your clit as his other hand moves to splay flat over your hips, holding you as still as he can, “Could do this all fuckin’ day, god you’re amazing sweetheart—”

Then he clamps his lips around your clit and moans, and you’re fairly certain you’re going to die of pleasure, both your hands flying to grip his hair and yank as your back arches off the bed, your head falling back against the pillows, mouth open to let out a high, keening moan.

When you come back to your body, Steve is back to gently licking through your folds, and your hands claw at him, needing him to be closer.

“Steve,” you whine, “Stevie please, ‘m so close, I jus’— I need— please, baby.”

As your words turn into incoherent moans and pleas, Steve is quick to assure you, thumb returning to playing with your clit as he mumbles against you, “I know, honey, I know what you need and ‘m gonna give it to you, I promise. Been so good for me today, taken such good care of everyone, now it’s your turn, ‘m gonna make you feel so, so fuckin’ good, baby—”

He dives into you once more, thumb rhythmically circling your clit as his tongue hits every spot inside you in a pattern that has you turning to liquid underneath him, your legs hooking together behind his back to keep him right there, and your vision goes white as Steve brings you towards your release.

You let out a cry as you hit your climax, and Steve dutifully guides you through your orgasm, murmuring soft praises the whole time.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs as he pulls away, mouth glistening and pupils dilated wide. Your hand cards through his soft brown waves, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Steve brushes gentle kisses to your inner thigh, your hipbone, your stomach, following a path up to capture your lips with his own, swallowing the contented sigh you let out.

He pulls away, meeting your gaze with a smile as he pecks your nose.

“Feelin’ better?”

You hum contentedly, “Much.” Your thumb comes up to stroke his cheek as you pointedly glance down, “What about you?”

Steve lets out a mock-annoyed groan, forehead coming down to rest on your shoulder.

“Baby, we just went over the whole thing about you not needing to take care of everyone.”

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze, “Seriously, though,” he presses a kiss to your cheek, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you into his chest, “I’m fine. This was about you, and I’m so glad I could help take care of you for once.”

You cup his cheek, turning his face to yours. You hope he can see every sincere, tender thought in your expression as you simply say, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. You know that.” He murmurs in response, lips quirking up into a small smile as he turns to press a quick kiss to your palm.

“So,” he says, fingers stroking through your hair, nudging your eyes closed, “nap time and then appetizer dinner? We’ve got mozzarella sticks and some chicken tenders I can throw in the oven.”

You grin, despite already being half-asleep, “That sounds perfect.”

You can feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

“I love you infinity.”

“I love you infinity plus one”

“I love you—”

“Alright, let’s call it a tie, babe.”

Tagging a couple friends! Hi besties @austin-butlers-gf @sassy-ahsoka-tano @dontbesussis

#steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #my writing #sage writes

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thevirgincherry · 4 months

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STAY SOFT, GET EATEN !

ft. leon s. kennedy x gn!reader

tags. p in v, incest, dub-con that is basically non-con idk

note. unedited cuz i got lazy omg. umm ignore typos :3 sorry my writing is so jolty lately im finding it hard to write so it’s all coming off very clunky but :3 rbs n feedback appreciated !! this is like not actually that smutty I’m sorry 💔 if u see me reusing bits from other old fics pretend it’s new

tumblr has started to remove fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

Your dad is hot, an indisputable fact. He’s a total babe, kinda looks like he should’ve been in Baywatch during his prime, got a rack that rivals C. J. Parker’s. Ever since you hit twelve, and the girls in your class suddenly got all boy crazy, you’ve been hearing nonstop about how cute dad is.

Sleepovers were held at yours so they could get a glimpse of him, and your dad might be friendly, but he’s clumsy with conversation, not much of a talker, so he made himself scarce. Then came the slew of questions, you think it was Ashley Graham, the one that didn’t know how to quit it. Airheaded with eyes like chipped peridot.

Hey, where’s your mom? Is she still around, I’ve never heard about her? What kinda girl does your dad like?

My dad doesn’t like kids, freak.

He might, and I’m not a kid! I mean, I turn thirteen in January. I bought a bra at PINK the other day, I even got measured, the lady said I’m an A cup.

Even my dad's are bigger than that, loser.

I’m, like, so not a loser! My mom said I could get a boob job when I turn sixteen, and by then your dad will be, like, what? Thirty?

He’ll be forty-three, dumbass.

Yeah, forty-three, that’s perfect. We can date then as long as you don’t have a mom. I did see a picture on your desk, but that’s your sister right? ‘Cause if that’s your mom, she never picks you up from school, so she’s either dead or they broke up or she hates you, right? I’m so right, aren’t I?

You’re wrong, stupid. My mom just works a lot.

Boo, I totally thought she was dead, well, whatever, if they break up by the time I hit sixteen, I’ll totally be your new step-mom.

For a lack of better words, you wanted that bitch dead. She meant well, you’ve just never met someone so out of touch, the type of girl that hands out Chanel handbags at the food bank.

A few years later, when you turned eighteen, it was Ada Wong, you had this co-dependent, whirlwind friendship that had you by the throat. She was cool, a few years older, and everyone thought she was hot. You were lame, and wanted everyone to think you were hot. What you don’t understand is how on earth it ended with her hand down the front of your dad’s pants at your graduation party. He was totally out of it too, she took advantage of a poor, drunk old man, and the worst part about it? That wasn’t what made you mad. Not that she touched him when he was slurring, tripping over his own feet, you were mad ‘cause she got to touch him in the first place.

When you tell your counsellor, I have a crush on my dad, she falters. She’s this older lady that reminds you of your Auntie Claire, they have the same button nose, and that makes it harder to talk to her. She presents herself professionally, and takes herself a little too seriously, also in the way Auntie Claire does at times. Bitch thinks she’s a psychologist. She has an office tucked right into the corner of your university’s humanities department.

“Well, is your dad absent?” She starts, chews on the lid of her ballpoint pen, the type you get in a pack of two hundred. See, if she were a real psychologist, she’d have a fancy one, with runny ink, and a metallic barrel.

“No, my dad raised me.” Your lips twitch upwards, wanting to scowl at her. ‘Cause this is your thirteenth session, and she knows how close you are to dad.

“Well, then, has your dad ever hit you?” She blinks real slow like it hurts to blink.

“What? No, never.” You’ve asked me these questions before, you stuck-up cow.

“Well, then,” Her eye twitches, you think she might report you to the authorities for being a freak, “Has he ever behaved inappropriately with you?”

The worst your dad has done is ask if you’re on birth control, only once, and he was rightfully worried. “Never, he would never do that.” I don’t know if you’ve been listening, I’m the one that wants to sit on his dick.

She taps her nail on the oak desk, popping open a button on her blouse. Some counsellor she is, mouth drying up ‘cause you have a crush on your dad. “Listen, if it’s not me overstepping boundaries, or being impolite, I’d like to refer you to a therapist.”

No fucking way. Jackpot. You’ve been waiting three months for this, all it took for her to cut the crap was an incestual confession? Although, you really do need to get that fixed, there’s this part of your brain, the cerebellum you believe, that’s been cut out and replaced by a hunk of meat that resembles your father. Whoever did it made a shoddy malpractical mess that you’re left to clean up with scarce supplies and medical knowledge.

“I'd really appreciate that.” You tell her, mustering your toothiest of grins as you pack up your shit and pass through the doorway, never to turn back to advice that consists solely of ‘talk it out’ and ‘use daily affirmations’ and other baseline shit they cover in Cosmopolitan articles you could read for free.

Therapy turns out to be no help. Not ‘cause of the content of the session, this is your first one actually, more ‘cause your therapist resembles dad. A little more on the polished side than your father, with salt and pepper hair that would look so good on him. Leon refuses though, to grow old, that is, to look anything more than thirty - he’s far past that, you think he’s looked old ever since you were born.

It’s going to be a distraction, you might leap out of your seat and fuck this man half to death if he scoots his chair any closer, if he keeps scratching his chin in the way dad does. There’s a copy of Nineteen-Eighteen-Four on the desk behind him, the one with the fabric cover to be specific, embellished by tiny labouring hands to sit pretty on the best-seller shelf in some overpriced independent bookstore. More importantly, it’s the copy that collects dust on your dad’s bedside, the one he insists to have read, but the pages still have that fresh scent to them, and not a single one is dog-eared.

There’s a ring on his ring finger, just like dad’s, and that might be a stretch, ‘cause every married man has a ring on their ring finger. Still reminds you of dad though. His is gold, and dad’s is silver ‘cause mom likes silver. You like silver ‘cause it looks pretty on dad.

He introduces himself, his way of speech is refined, and you can tell he thinks before he speaks unlike dad. Leon is clunky with words, oftentimes crude without realising. Cancellation and no-show fees, your rights, confidentiality, he runs you through all of it - the whole time you’re focused on his lips, the prominent curve of his Cupid’s bow, the double lip line that makes them appear fuller from afar. Just like dad’s lips.

The receptionist frowns when you request to see another therapist, then she begins to click, click, click away at her keyboard. She stops midway to file her nails, then she pops her gum and gives a very simple shake of the head, ponytail moving with her. You doubt the slow bitch even tried, so you make your way home, a heat in your stomach that refuses to fizzle out, an ache so deep only dad could reach it. With his dick, obviously.

Dad’s keys jingle and you hear wedding bells. You check the time, he’s home early, he toes off his shoes and tucks them into the cubby hole shelf mom placed by the door. She’d be down his throat if he left them scattered for her to trip over again.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Leon smiles kindly, the same smile that’s seen you throughout your life. The one he gave you when he first held you, the one he gave you when you fell off your bike, and he brushed the crumbly gravel off your knees and kissed the tender scrapes on both. When you graduated, and he held back tears but acted all tough about it, he smiled all the same.

“Hi, dad.” The one you give in return is meek, the apples of your cheeks refusing to raise upwards into your eye-line.

“Oh,” Dad is perceptive, he throws his jacket over the bannister, keys tucked into one of it’s unzipped pocket - they dangle haphazardly, and you’re sure he’ll forget about them and toss that jacket in the washing machine, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” You shrug Leon’s hand off of your shoulder when he takes the seat adjacent to you. It’s cruel, the expression on his face sours, your heart lurches. Making him upset is your farthest intention, you just don’t know how much skin to skin contact you can handle with him.

Nonetheless, it was the wrong move, ‘cause he shuffles closer, “Hey now, don’t push me out, what’s wrong?”

“Dad, I promise, nothing's up.” You aim to soothe him with your words, but his agitation grows, your discomfort is palpable - he tastes it on his tongue, it’s the blood in the back of his throat. There’s no getting past him. “Therapy was bad.” No harm in telling a lie or two.

“Therapy,” Leon waves his hand through a nonexistent cloud of smoke, “You don’t need that.”

Here we go. All you need is a hug from dad! A kiss from dad. And you’ll be all better, sweetheart.

“I do, dad.” You glare at him, he smooths his thumb over your wrinkled brow and your heart drops to your ass. Dad needs to stop touching you before you touch him back, that’s a silent threat, your fingers twitch to grab him, mould his soft flesh into the shape of your fingertips.

“I did a good job with you,” Leon states, “My dad—“

My dad hit me, my dad threw me through a glass table once, busted my ass and made me crawl through the shattered glass and then he set wild dogs on me - your grandma just watched - I been through all that and I don’t need to go to therapy. He says something along those lines, albeit less cinematically thrilling.

“You did a very good job with me,” You nod, reassure him in a maternal tone almost ‘cause all dads are children that need to be praised, “It’s not your fault, dad, I love you lots.” Well, it is, for raising you so well, maybe he raised you too well. Or maybe you’re just a bit sick in the head, or maybe it’s his fault for looking how he looks.

“Then you don’t need therapy,” He sinks back into his dent in the leather couch, “You just need a hug, bring it in, kid.”

No, no, no. You do your best to fend him off, all for his own sake, but he draws you close to his chest, smothers you by pushing your face right into the dip. He smells good, cologne gradually having worn off as the day progressed, the slightly tangy undertone of his sweat coming through.

“And a kiss.” He coos at you, pinches your cheek, clicks his tongue in an attempt to coax you.

God, no. Don’t kiss me. Don’t do that— Mwah! Smack bang on your forehead as he tips your chin upwards, blinking down at you with sticky toffee lashes. And you, stupidly, in your lovestruck haze, pull him in to place the most disgusting, sloppy kiss on his lips - one that does little to hide your ardour for dad.

Leon’s neck almost snaps with how fast he pulls back, then he stares at you open-mouthed, and you hate to say it, but you’d kiss his lips swollen again. A man of his age, especially your father, should not be pretty or doll-lipped, but he is and you hate it. He’s your hamartia of sorts.

“Sweetheart…” Dad shambles aimlessly through his words, umming and ahing.

“Oh, god, you totally think I’m a freak, right?” You take your hands off of his chest, where they had been firmly planted, giving him a real good squeeze without even realising. “Dad, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, it just came out, you were just really close to me and I got nervous.” Now you sound like him, a lack of conversational tact is exactly what you got from dad.

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay, sweetheart, just give dad a minute.” He pats your shoulder, then he stands up, about to march on forward to grab his keys and leave. You know your dad, so you take his wrist in your hand, beg him to face you.

“Dad… I’m sorry, can you look at me?” You add a ‘please’ in the most desperate tone you can manage, brows slanting downwards as your bottom lip trembles.

Leon struggles to do so, his arm flexes when he tenses, stiffening in your grip. He sits back down when you begin to sniffle, too lamb-hearted to sit through your fit of tears. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay.” Dad rubs your back, but he avoids moving his face close like he usually would, this is his cue to kiss the tears from your cheeks, but he doesn’t.

“It’s not, dad,” You hiccup, choking on an ugly sob that manifests into an even uglier yelp, “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m just really lonely.”

“Baby,” Leon’s voice is sweet like a glacé cherry, “I didn’t know you were feeling like that, I didn’t know you were lonely.”

You are, but that’s not why you kissed dad. You kissed dad out of your own free will, ‘cause you’re in love with him. “I am really lonely, dad, I don’t know what to do.” The snot and tears don’t bother him, he wipes it away with the back of his hand. You’re his baby, you know that. So if he can do that, why can’t he fuck you? It’s ugly in the same way, he’ll wipe his load off your stomach instead, or your ass if he wants to take you from the back.

“Hey, it’s okay, we can— we can fix that, I promise.” The only thing you need him to fix is the leak you’ve sprung, plug it up or whatever. “There’s no use cryin’ about it, alright? Dad doesn’t like seeing you cry.”

His guard drops, and you’re kissing him again, harder, till he’s breathless and confused and yet unable to push you off. ‘Cause dad is so weak-willed when it comes to you. If only you’d had the guts to get to him sooner. “I won’t cry… I won’t cry if you kiss me, dad, I promise.” It’s a shitty tactic, threats, making dad’s heart jump like that - gonna send him into cardiac arrest.

Leon hesitates, softens like butter when your hands come to fist the fabric of his shirt, “Okay, just, just a kiss, alright? And mom can’t find out ‘bout this.” He stammers, cupping your face in his big hands, his fingers trembling. “And… And just one, yeah?” His flimsy assertion of dominance has your lips curving into the slightest of smiles, dad’s cute.

“Just one.” You agree, his spiky lashes cast shadows on his face, he shuts his eyes tight as your lips ghost over his for a moment, then you take his face in your hands and press them together. Lip to lip. Heart to heart. You swing a leg over his, situating yourself in his lap. Leon’s eyes open, no longer bracing as he glances down at your spread thighs, then up at your face.

“What’s up?” Leon tries, it’s hard to miss the apprehensive edge to his tone, how he burrows backwards into the couch pillows, shoulders shrinking to get away from you. His kid.

He’s not moving. Not pushing you off, which he could easily do, not calling mom and telling her you need to be checked into a ward of some kind - with others akin to you. Would be like a slumber party really, getting to indulge in fantasies that haven’t left the confines of your sick little head. Dad is looking on ahead, glassy-eyed and sad. And you kind of get it now, what you’ve heard about dad being easy back when he was younger. Not easy, but soft. Pliant against his own will, even when he has the capacity to say no, you’ve given him plenty of chances to say no.

“Dad, I’m sorry, I’ll be quick.” That’s a promise, you’re worked up from therapy with the cleaner version of dad. “And I’m sorry, we don’t have to do this ever again.” Unless you want too is left unsaid. You hope the implications are clear enough, that he’s picking up what you’re putting down, but dad is slow in that sense. He’s a hands-on type of guy.

You give him a minute, dad blinks, and there’s no explicit refusal, so you lift up to wriggle out of your jeans. Dad’s come undone a little easier, he raises his hips when you ask him to do so, and he flinches when you unzip them - fingers coming into contact with the softness of his cock through the fabric of his boxers. Leon’s not hard. It’s a blow to your already crippled ego, then again you’ve heard mom talk about Viagra to him before - so maybe it’s not a ‘my kid is groping my dick’ issue, but more of an old age issue.

The tip is velvety on your skin when you tuck your fingers beneath the waistband to tug them down, with the way he’s reclined back in his seat, his dick flops onto his stomach. Heavy and stagnant, much like dad himself. Doesn’t spring up and whack you in the face like dicks tend to do in porn, doesn’t have a mind of its own, it just sits there awkwardly.

Leon closes his eyes, you notice how ragged his breathing is and wonder if he’s getting any enjoyment out of this, or if he’s two minutes away from flatlining. To comfort him, you stroke a hand over his cheek, fingers curling beneath his square jaw as your other hand curls around his flaccid cock. He flinches, and for the first time in your life, you see dad cry. And it turns you on. The last time was when you were born, you don’t remember it, for obvious reasons, but he reiterates it every birthday.

“Oh, dad,” Your brows knit together, “I didn’t… Please don’t cry, I really didn’t mean to upset you, dad. Gosh, I’m just, I just needed to do this dad— Can you speak to me, please? I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” Leon’s voice wavers, his body is wracked with shivers, chills prickling his spine, “I want to make you happy.” You’re all he's got, you and mom are the only speck of normalcy in dad’s life and you’ve gone and ruined it. For reasons even your counsellor couldn’t process, reasons that are unfathomable to you. A prion disease so severe that even your therapist likely fears there’s no chance. “I’m sorry.” He says finally, and your stomach hurts.

“Dad, don’t say sorry, that’s stupid.” You lift your hips once more, spitting on your palm and smearing it over his dick has done little for lube, but he’s not all that big - and you’re dripping down your thighs, it’ll be an easy fit, ‘cause dad made you. Half of you is him, and that means he’ll be just right. “It’s not your fault.” You tell him, but you doubt it lifts the guilt from his shoulders, it weighs down his tender heart instead.

Dad doesn’t think that way. He blames everything on himself. Leon’s the one that raised you, he's the one that went wrong. You don’t know how else to tell him there’s something sick inside your head, and it’s infected every single part of you.

It’s hard to guide him into your hole, the tip bumps over your twitching clit a couple of times, up and down your slippery folds as you try to line him up. Leon’s face twists when you take him in, walls breached by the tip alone, you wonder if he’s relieved to find out you’re a virgin. You’ve been saving it for dad, didn’t know the opportunity would come so soon. Your cunt squelches when you take him to the hilt, squeezing around his shaft till he hardens inside of you. There we go, so dad does like you after all? Or is this a natural response? Or is he thinking of someone else, his eyes have been closed for an awfully long time.

“Dad, will you look at me, please?” That’s the second time you’ve asked so nicely and he obeys all the same, cracking open his eyes, foggy like stained glass, just as bright too.

Two hands come to rest on your torso, Leon’s keeping you at arms length. You want dad to let you in. The rocking off your hips elicits the slightest groan from his parted lips, you grind yourself into his lap, fat head leaking and jabbing at that spongy spot deep inside. See? Dad’s made for you. Dad knows you.

“Dad,” You whimper, clammy forehead sticking to his, the tip of your nose bumping his broad one, it’s romantic you think. In the same way A View from the Bridge is romantic - to you and you only. “I love you… I love you so much.” His hips jolt upwards, dad’s sensitive you suppose, he didn’t mean to do it ‘cause his face contorts with pure, unadulterated disgust.

Shakily, you take his bigger hand in yours, he’s limp in your grip. You jam his hand between your sweaty bodies, force him to rub them against your thrumming clit. Dad does it. ‘Cause he loves you, if you didn’t get that by now. His thumb rubs figure eights into your bud, the nimble touch, along with dad’s dick right where you want it, lodged deep inside your pussy - it tips you right over the edge.

Your thighs tremble, snapping shut around his hand, and his cock slips out. He’s only got a semi, or maybe he came earlier, but you don’t know much about dick specifics so you curl into his chest, and dad holds you tight even after you totally violated the poor guy.

“Should clean up ‘fore mom gets home.” Leon’s voice is unsteady, lilting up and down, all over the place. God, did you make dad cry again, you stupid bitch?

“Yeah,” You agree, scratching the back of your head ‘cause what do you even say after fucking your dad? Couldn’t even ask google that. “Dad, do you still like me?”

“I love you,” He answers instinctively, “I’ll love you no matter what you do to me, kid.”

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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sassiperere · 7 months

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FRAGARIA MEMORIES: RED BOUQUET

We've finally been introduced to all of the characters and I've decided to just compile them here! HUGE shoutout to my senpai in uni who helped me with ALL of these

I'm VERY curious about everyone's faves from this Bouquet, please tell me in the tags! Mine are Merold and Sanah.

TERMS FOR SHARING THIS TRANSLATION BELOW

I figured I should let everyone know what you can do with my translations!

CAN I SHARE YOUR TRANSLATIONS OUTSIDE OF TUMBLR? Absolutely you can! If you want them on Twitter, I already post there, so an RT would be appreciated.

If you want to use them in a Wiki you are free to do so as well! You can also repost these images anywhere you want, because I genuinely believe resources are to be shared without concerns. In fact, if any fan resources project for Fragaria Memories comes up, it would be my pleasure to actively participate!

I just really really hope to be credited and linked back to my other social media because this is hard work! And my first time really doing it! If you see any reposting of this work without credits and could please notify them of my identity I would appreciate it. I don't like taking stuff down but it would make me happy to be recognized!

Hoping to do a translation blog, RB these posts there and continue from Blue Bouquet onwards over there, so I hope to still have your support!

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itspyon · 5 months

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how to adapt into dtblr culture for twitter refugees

so you've decided to move here from twitter. welcome and congratulations. this post is basically a big warning that goes THIS ISN'T TWITTER, DON'T BEHAVE LIKE IT IS, LEAVE THAT AT THE DOOR

i'll be teaching you two things, how the site works, and how to adapt your behavior to tumblr ( and really, normal human being ) culture. believe me, it's not that hard and it will actually feel very productive

let's start with the basics and frequent questions

your username can be anything, don't stress about it

your picture can be anything. a lot of us don't even have dteam related stuff up on our profile

your display name doesn't have to be your name. nobody is going to see it when you post, only usernames are visible

check your settings. do it. get familiar with them. turning on and off asks, turning anon off, turning submissions off. click on your blog, go to blog settings, check things there, go to account, your muted things will be there, go to dashboard and customize that. use your settings !!!

yes, pinned posts are fairly important and they tend to be pretty extensive. name age what you post about ( a lot of people here are multifandom !), just don't overshare ( no locations no trigger lists i beg you ). they also usually have a breakdown of your tags at the end

tags

it's a whole thing. some are actually useful. some are just passive commentary

the tags you put on posts ( both when you made the post and when you're reblogging something ) are both global and hosted on your profile. it's why you'll see things like "nameofperson art" rather than just "art". using just "art" will put you in the promoted tag, in this case

you can use spaces on your tags

usually you will tag what type of post you're making ( art, text post, ask post ), and then the contents keep in mind this is how people often mute things, some people tag the current situation, people use and mute ship tags. but this is also how people find things, like the specific asks from one person to another, so "username ask" is commonly used, "irl person ( dream, dnf, etc )" is also seen a lot just watch how others tag things and copy them. nobody will get offended you took their tag formatting, most of us will appreciate properly tagged posts

you do tag when you reblog people. you use tags to comment on things. don't really use replies unless you're, saying thank you to someone or pointing out a spell mistake or asking to add an option to a poll, etc. we don't do replies, just rb your reply

quick reblog and like deets

post popularity is measured in "notes" which is the sum of replies, reblogs and likes. we don't really care much about numbers here and if you start getting crazy about it people will not like it. this is more of a talking and showing site

you can reblog without tags, feel free to

you can hide your likes. you can and should like as many things as you want. they don't alter any algorithm, since there's none. a like is a "i saw this post" notification to the poster

actually posting

people talk a lot. a fucking lot, and it's something you will have to get used to, because it's very different from twitter

there are no qrts. callouts are looked down upon. breathe. if you don't like something MUTE IT DON'T POST ABOUT IT, because no one is going to listen to any callouts. you will have to learn to live with the fact people like things you don't. this will, with time, make you feel very free

the bulk of posting here is asks, as you might notice soon. asks are fun and encouraged. just don't name drop if you're talking about drama please ?

don't be scared to send asks off anon, this is how people will find you and get to know you really. people are also more likely to reply to you

block bait anons. yes you can block anons. yes it will block every blog they make

culture time

i've said this. tumblr is unserious. drama here is approached very differently and with several less layers of panic. you will see death threats. you will see slurs ( said in non derogatory ways ). you will see jokes about serious topics. you will see people say "i didn't like this" and nobody will care

tumblr is a community of individualism. you will like your own things within the thing we share we like. you might not like dream's music, you might not find irl streams entertaining, as long as you're fucking normal about it ? nobody will care and you're free to express your opinions. people will even come ask you about it and just have a chat. we're here for the same content to some degree

tumblr is also a bunch of people who understand they like another bunch of people. that none of the streamers have stopped being human. so you might see people defend things that, maybe, you'd not have thought to defend before. maybe you're even uncomfortable seeing them defending it. this is something you will experience a lot, and you'll learn to properly deal with it as time passes

because again. no one does callouts here unless it is extremely bad. no one cares if you don't really like them. and they also accept people might and will not like them. and that is fine. and that doesn't make either person horrible. you're just different people. and you don't even have to interact

you want to make friends ? ask people things, compliment people's work, genuinely attempt to make conversation. this is not an impersonal website the way twitter is. people don't care about your opinions because they care about you, and you are more than what you don't like

the more positive and jokey and interactive you are the more people will talk to you. there's no "hitting the algorithm", there's no "engagement", it's just people talking to people. so don't be a neg posting bot, and be a person

you will learn to be less miserable. you learn to stop giving a shit and just do what makes you happy. they cannot get you here. there's no qrts. the few antis you'll find can be blocked and you'll never have to directly interact with one. don't be mean to the people in your own community, even if you disagree

again, you are more than what you don't like. learn to be what you like instead. and leave the dooming at the door

#pyon long post #if you have any questions feel free to ask #i will be happy to attach them with a reblog

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bibibudin · 8 months

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Sub!Brahms Heelshire x Reader

THIS ACC/POST IS 18+ SO MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!

Follow me on my new account @bibibudin666 where I’ll be posting more content there :-)

Just a little somethin somethin I put together while I work on other things hehe~ Hope you filthies~ enjoy!!

warnings: (that I def forgot to add before)

handjob, begging, blood drawing (very minor just a lip bite), cum. pretty sure that's it hehe~

Check out my new Brahms POV Drabble here!!

His face was glued to your neck, pressing the porcelain nose onto your skin it burns cold like ice. His tousled black hair tickles your chin, you bring your hand up to stroke his curls as he nuzzles into you deeper. Your other hand is wrapped around his cock as you pump him nice and slow. He couldn’t control the whimpers that fell from his lips as you pleased him.

He deserved this treatment you were giving him. Throughout the whole day he was being such a good boy for you and Brahms is well aware that good boys get good rewards. His eyes screwed shut, reveling in the feeling of your hand on him. He didn’t want it to end. He was so close to finishing but he wanted to stay in this euphoric state just a bit more, so he held back his release. Trying to delay it as much as possible, as hard as it is for him.

His whimpers only grow louder and louder, like music to your ears, he sounds so beautiful. There’s nothing you enjoyed more than making the tall brooding man melt like putty under your hands.

“Come on Brahmsy, I know you’re close. Just cum for me hmm?”

He lets out a groan at your words, a complete 180 from the sounds he was making before. You feel yourself ache at his noises, you grip him tighter, wanting him to hurry and finish. Although you want him to cum, the night was far from over. This would only be the first of the night considering you plan on making him beg for you for hours to come.

“Not yet…” He pants, his quiet voice barely reaching your ears.

Your soft pets at his hair halt when you swiftly grab his locks, yanking his head from your neck so you could look into his teary eyes.

“You cum when I say, so cum Brahms.” You demand.

You couldn’t see him bite his lip under his mask, the metallic taste coating his tongue as he draws blood. He mustn’t disobey your orders now, not when he was being so good for you all day. His eyes screwed shut as he finally let himself reach his peak. Your hand movements not faltering as you carry him to the end. You can feel the hot thick liquid coat your hands and stomach. You coo at him and kiss his cold cheek in the process, slowly slowing down your strokes.

When he’s finished you bring your hand up to your mouth and taste him, the saltiness melting on your tongue as you lick up every bit of his release on your hand. He whimpers again at your gestures, admiring the site. When you’re finished you smile delicately at him. He’s so in love with you and everything you do. He’d do anything, kill anything to make sure you’re safe and happy.

After you finish you cup his face in your hands and plant a kiss on his porcelain lips. He closes his eyes as to kiss you back and you pull away slightly. His eyes flutter open to meet yours and he gets lost in the color of them. He then nuzzles his face into your hands, wanting you to touch him more. You don’t give him the satisfaction just yet.

“Let’s go upstairs, yeah? I’m not done with you just yet, we still have a whole night ahead of us.” You say calmly, looking deep into his eyes.

He nods and lets you take his hands in yours as he follows you up the stairs, where the rest of the night takes hold.

If you enjoyed make sure to like and rb, hey why not leave a little comment too hehe~ thanks for reading OKAY BYEE!!

Tags: (Ask if you’d like to be removed or added)

@stephisokay

#brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #sub!brahms heelshire #sub!brahms heelshire x reader #sub!brahms heelshire x dom!reader #brahms heelshire smut #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire x you #the boy 2016 #brahms heelshire the boy 2016 #brahms heelshire fanfic #slasher #slasher community #slasher fucker #slashers #slasher fandom

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juyeonszn · 6 months

Text

JUST FOR ME

PAIRING ji changmin x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.26k

GENRES kinda fluff ﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, apparently ji changmin has a secret, established relationship, a whisker away ref <3, dacryphilia lol, making out, oral (m!receiving), face fucking lol, cum eating lol, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY ji changmin had a secret.

MORE hellaur hellaur!! i cannot believe i’ve written 8 of these in the past month like i’m actually sick in the head. but maybe u guys are even sicker for reading them idk… once fawntober is over i think i might spontaneously combust. ANYWAY i would like to dedicate this to the resident jichang lover <3 beam <3 consider this a late birthday gift <3 if u enjoyed pls rb!

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

Ji Changmin had a secret.

A very big secret that he would never dare tell to anyone else. Not his friends. Not even you. Whether it was because he wanted to keep this to himself, take it to the grave type beat, or because he was embarrassed— the world may never know.

But as you cuddle into his side, sniffling over this stupid animated movie, he realizes that his big secret might be harder to keep to himself than he thought.

He’s seen A Whisker Away with you probably hundreds of times by now, and he’s seen you cry each and every time, but for some reason this is the one that gets to him. The sight of your pretty tears trickling down your cheeks, eyes slightly puffy and lips pouty, has his thinking clouded. Typical Y/N behavior, living in his mind rent free like it was your career.

He hopes the thick comforter of your bed hides just how turned on he is, licking his lips when a tear drips down your chin and onto your chest. Don’t even get him started on your pajama choice. Nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy linen shorts. Did you know that you were just one action away from sending him into cardiac arrest?

Changmin doesn’t even notice that the movie has ended and the credits are displayed, eyes still trained on the stray teardrops rolling down your sternum. It’s not until you’re reaching above your head to stretch, leg bumping into his hard on.

You turn to him with wide eyes and a gasp. “Changmin! No way you’re fucking horny right now.”

“I’m not?” His response comes out more like a question than a statement, so of course you don’t believe him in the slightest. You give him a pointed look.

“How could you possibly be hard after watching that?” Your eyebrows raise, judging him wholeheartedly without knowing the full story. Though, he’s almost certain you’d still judge him then, too. Who wouldn’t? Getting turned on by the sight of his girlfriend crying wasn’t exactly something that people would think is normal.

“That’s— uh— that’s not what— you know what, never mind. We can just go to sleep if you’re tired—” Changmin really wished you weren’t so persistent sometimes. Then again, your persistence was the reason you were together in the first place.

“No, I’m wide awake now,” you simper, a sly little smile that looks out of place paired with the tear streaks on your cheeks. “Lemme help you, Min.”

You peel back the covers, straddling his lap. Changmin groans, throwing his head back when your barely clothed warmth presses down on his erection. Your fingers card through his hair before you lean in to kiss him.

It’s slow at first, lips moving together gently as you work yourself up. One of the things Changmin loved about you was the fact that you were always so eager to please. He had a tendency of not asking for anything unless absolutely necessary, but with your keen sense of perception, you just knew when he needed a little extra care. Like right now, for example.

His hands find your hips, grinding them into his own as he nips your bottom lip. You sigh into the kiss, parting just enough to catch your breath. He slips his fingers under the waistband of your shorts but you shake your head.

“Mm-mm,” you start to pepper kisses all over his face and jaw, trailing down his neck. “Let me do the work. You just relax, okay?”

The service top he was, Changmin thought it would be a bit difficult to just let you have the reins. However, he pulls away his hands anyway, allowing you to exhibit your magic. You smile contentedly, shimmying down so your face was level with his crotch.

Changmin watches with bated breath as you haul his sweatpants and underwear down his legs in one go. He fists your hair in a makeshift ponytail, darting out his tongue to wet his lips when you leave a sweet kiss to the tip of his cock. He hisses as you wrap your hands around the base, pumping his length agonizingly slow.

His hips buck up into your hands, teeth gritted when your lips envelope the head. Your tongue drags over his slit, collecting the precum that’s begun to form. You moan when the taste of him settles, one hand sliding under his t-shirt to claw at his abdomen.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, you take him fully into the warm coziness of your mouth. Every time you gave Changmin head, you tried not to push yourself to swallow him wholly. You were afraid of embarrassing yourself by not being able to fit his impressive size down your throat. This time was different. You felt the need to provide him the best pleasure possible.

He thinks he might combust, focus zeroed in on your plush lips going further down his length and meeting your hand. Your eyes flutter open, making contact with his as you twist your wrist and start to bob your head. Changmin groans, using his free hand to fist at the sheets below you. You looked so fucking filthy like this, ass perked up in the air as you sucked him off like your life depended on it. But good God, you managed to still look absolutely gorgeous, even with the drool dribbling along your chin.

Instinctively, his grip on your hair tightens and he pushes your head down, forcing you to engulf his cock more than you already had. You gag, but steel yourself to power through. Changmin accepts his fate and lets himself loosen up, a conniving grin spreading across his lips.

“Gonna let me fuck your face, baby?” He coos, bending his knees and putting his feet flat on the bed.

You moan in approval, pulling off just to respond. “Mhm. Want you to feel good.”

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” he bites his lip, bringing your face closer to kiss your swollen lips, your hand still jerking him off. “I’m gonna ruin you.”

He can taste himself on your mouth and it makes his release that much more exciting. You break apart, returning to what you were doing previously. This time, however, Changmin doesn’t hold himself back. He starts to fuck up into the wet heat of your mouth, cock sliding down your throat with a choked groan following each thrust.

Your eyes water, and before you know it, tears are tracking on your cheeks. He nearly whines, all sense of restraint lost completely as you continue to wrap around him, tongue swirling around the tip and running along each vein. Changmin feels insane, his orgasm building up higher and higher the more you take him— the more you cry for him.

It’s when one of your teardrops drips onto his stomach, your thumb swiping across his hip bone, that he cums into your mouth with a moan so out of character, you almost join him. You try to swallow everything he gives you, but it’s so much that you have to pull off of him, feeling it slip down the side of your mouth. Your hips roll into the bed to release some of the friction that formed.

Changmin wipes away the mixture of saliva and cum on your chin, stamping another slow kiss to your lips. You straddle him once again, whimpering when he presses up into your already sensitive cunt.

He smiles, fingers dipping into your shorts. “You did so well, baby. Let me return the favor.”

#the boyz #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #tbz #tbz x reader #tbz smut #the boyz changmin #the boyz q #tbz changmin #tbz q #ji changmin x reader #ji changmin smut #changmin x reader #changmin smut #q x reader #q smut #juyeonszn #fawntober.2023🎃

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leviathans-watching · 11 months

Note

Haluuuu I was waiting for this day!! I was about to request something from you but it was close😭 so now that it's open please hear me outt🥰🥰

Can I request a Headcanon fluff with the obey me boys or side characters reaction to their MC and kid having a sweet moment?

You can do it whenever you want I'm willing to wait!💜 Honestly your one of ny fav writers in this app! Your so good I hope you continue this with Passion 💜💜💜

you and your kid

includes: the brother x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: .7k | rated g | m.list

a/n: omggg i have such bad baby fever rn and this made it worse,,, and it was so hard giving some of them sons they're all such girl dads imo

please rb <33

➳ lucifer watches you hold the spoon near your daughter’s mouth, cooing at her as she takes a bite of the human-world mashed goop. disgusting as the food looks, you and your daughter look quite the opposite, and he can’t help but smile as you gently wipe at her mouth. a fruitless endeavor, to be sure, as your guys’ daughter is one messy eater, but the care and love in your actions warms him all the same. how did he get so lucky to enjoy these moments? surely mundane seeming to some, but to him, they mean the world.

➳ mammon shuts the car door, stretching. man, it is good to be home! but seeing you open the front door, welcoming him in with his daughter on your hip is much better. you wave with a smile, and upon seeing him, your daughter starts to squirm, masking grabby hands in his direction. booking it up to you, mammon takes your daughter, pressing a big kiss on her forehead, then leans in to kiss you. “i missed you,” he says. “both of you.” your daughter squeals happily, tugging on his hair, and mammon lets her, basking in both of your presences.

➳ levi steps outside, on the hunt for you and your son. you’d both disappeared and once checking the house he knew you must be in the yard. the sound of a plastic bat hitting a ball tells him he’s right, and he makes his way around the corner. “how goes it?” he calls, and you look up. you’ve been teaching your son how to play whiffle ball, as he’d expressed interest in joining the neighborhood t-ball team, something levi was content to leave in your hands. as he speaks, your son winds up for another swing, sending the ball bouncing across the grass. you cheer and clap and levi can’t help but cheer too.

➳ satan wakes up the the baby crying, rolling over and out of bed. you’re already up, trying to comfort her, and as he joins you, he hears you singing softly, a nonsense piece that you’ve no doubt made up on the spot. “how long have you been up?” he asks, taking your guys’ daughter from you and holding her close. “i can take it from here, love. go back to bed.” you ignore his words, wrapping your arms around his waist, and he huffs out a laugh. “fine, fine, i’ll take care of you both.”

➳ asmo blinks as he meets your eyes, not expecting to see some very, uh, artistic makeup covering your face. lipstick is smeared across your chin and bright blue glitter is across your cheeks, but as you grin up at him he can’t help but think you’re as attractive as always. “oh, is it makeover time?” he asks mildly. “she takes after me, i guess. an eye for beauty and all.” you laugh, and your daughter runs into the room, beaming proudly. “this was your work?” he asks, scooping her up into his arms. “amazing!” he says as you giggle, and continues to shower her with compliments.

➳ beel wakes up to his bed shaking and looks up to see his son crawling across it. you’re in the doorway, a tray in hands, and beel can smell that it’s breakfast. “good morning, kiddo,” he says sleepily, lifting the blanket so your son can snuggle in next to him. “breakfast in bed? i’m spoiled.” you smile, setting the tray down on the bedside table, and beel can see the misshapen pancake hearts that are no doubt the product of hard work. before you can leave, beel moves the covers again, and you sigh warmly, climbing back into bed as well, your son squished in the middle.

➳ belphie feels a small hand slip into his and looks down. it’s, of course, his daughter, who always insists on holding both of your hands whenever you walk somewhere. you laugh at the familiar action, and he gives you a quelling look. “are you excited to go the park?” he asks your daughter, and she nods excitedly, full of energy. he resigns himself to hours of swing-pushing and tag-playing but consoles himself with the fact that you’ll be there too, even if it is only to take videos while he’s forced to run around and play.

leviathans-watching's work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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from-izzy · 6 months

Text

[19:32] | tbz kim sunwoo

» PAIRING: tbz kim sunwoo x pregnant fem reader » TROPE/AU: uhhhh...i don't think there's a trope for this one 🤔 established relationship au! marriage au! » GENRE: husband sunwoo, fluffy fluffy fluff fluff, slight angst, comforting sunwoo, loving sunwoo, patient sunwoo, hurt/comfort » WORD COUNT: 1868 » ESTIMATED READING TIME: ~7 mins » WARNINGS (lmk if i missed anything!): pregnancy, vomiting and sickness, insecurities

this was my first ever timestamp story! ahhhh the memories from re-reading this 😍

i didn't want to change it much (changed one sentence) but it's more proofread now 🤭 this gathered 183 notes (14 rbs, 169 likes) and even though it hurts that i can't see that evidence anymore, i'm glad it got that much love!! this is very overdue but thank you so much 🫶

navi/masterlist!!

You never knew that pregnancy would be this hard.

Whenever you asked your mum about her pregnancy journey, she would always have a smile on her face, telling you all the exciting milestones; first positive test, telling other people the news, first ultrasound, first time there was a definite belly bump, first movement, buying items for you or your big brother and the list goes on.

Your mum didn’t leave out the other side of pregnancy though and in particular the sickness and depleted self-confidence due to the new changes in the body internally and externally. However, your mum only experienced a few episodes of morning sickness (compared to your grandma or her already mum friends) and you were nowhere like your mum.

“Please…” The tears in your eyes only accumulated over the past hour or so and the clock on the opposite side of the bathroom was becoming blurry. You could only murmur out whispers of pain and begs that this episode would pass by soon; and before Sunwoo would arrive home.

Kim Sunwoo has been the best husband ever. You thought that he was already perfect and loving but with all the new challenges and experiences in life, there was no way that you couldn’t fall for him even more day by day and the silver band around your ring finger is one of the evidences for that.

Trudging to stand up from the kneeling position, the small whispers turned into louder cries by the second. The headache was killing you, your knees felt so cold and you could still taste the acidity of your stomach in your mouth. The flush button feels so out of reach unlike the first three times you pushed it and you eventually gave up for a bit to rest your forehead on the toilet seat, “God please…”

Still with all of these rough patches during your pregnancy, your blurry eyes could still see the purple shirt that covered your little pregnancy bump and with shaky hands, you soothed the little bean inside of you, “Can’t wait to meet you, baby. Your dad and I can’t wait to finally hold you in our arms.”

As if your child is listening, a little kick could be felt as if acknowledging their mother’s loving words. You could only sob while chuckling, still softly rubbing your stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your stomach.

In the back of your mind, you are still very aware of the time. Sunwoo was supposed to arrive home around an hour ago yet he’s still not home. You were about to call him to check up on him but your episode started and your phone is way too far for you to even comprehend walking to the other side of the apartment. Sunwoo has been so busy for the whole time of your pregnancy with work as well as taking care of you.

Waking up at a random time at three? He’s there to walk you to the bathroom

Sudden craving as soon as you wake up? Count on him to drive there and back as soon as possible.

Needing hugs and comfort? He’s running and never letting you go.

This was not how you wanted to greet him after a long week of work, especially when it was his first week of getting promoted. You just don’t ever want to worry him but you conflictingly accepted that pregnancy is not necessarily a one-person job and Sunwoo made you realise how important it is to always reach out to him whenever you need him. Still, you try to do everything yourself first.

Needless to say, you love this man with your whole being and you can’t wait for your child to meet the best dad in the whole wide world.

You freaked out at the familiar sound of the door unlocking, creaking open and the bright call for your name. With all the strength that you have accumulated over this short amount of time, you find the drive to stand up, put the toilet lid down and flush your evidence of pain down the drain.

But throughout your pregnancy, Sunwoo is always so alert whenever he hears the toilet flushing that he practically runs to the bathroom to see you struggling to take even a step further away from the toilet, holding your body by pushing down your palm onto the edge of the sink next to you, “Baby?” At the sight of your dried tears, red eyes, dishevelled hair and shaking body, Sunwoo rushes over to you, imagining the war that you probably had alone, “Sit down here.” He pointed and directed you to the toilet seat.

You couldn’t help but cry again when you felt Sunwoo’s arm wrapping around your waist, setting you down on the toilet carefully. He kneels before you, lifting his head to scan your face for any additional discomfort, “I’m sorry.” Sobbing louder and louder when you catch a glimpse of his worried glance and creasing forehead, “I wanted to greet you nicely today. I even made you some snacks and such in the kitchen but you have to see me all ugly like th---”

“Hey, hey. Just stop, okay?” Sunwoo hushes your words when you begin to downgrade yourself, “Don’t say those things. You’re beautiful, bubs.” He tries to steal a kiss from your lips but you shake your head and push your face backwards, “Hey…”

“No, don’t kiss me. I'm disgusting right now.” You managed to say between your sobs. You couldn’t face your husband anymore in shame that you couldn’t take care of yourself for the whole week. Everything seemed to have the worst timing. You just wanted to make sure you could at least be there for Sunwoo when he opened the front door as he got through his first week of promotion yet not even halfway through the week, it was obvious that Sunwoo has done more reassuring than getting reassurance, “Don’t leave me…”

Your heartbreaking tone made Sunwoo's heartbreak, “I promise I won’t.” He whispers with a sad smile. He’s heard this a couple of times recently but he promised himself and to you that he will always remind you that he’ll always be by your side, just like he promised a year ago on your wedding day, “Bubs, I’m right here for you. You can lean on me okay?” You clenched your fist at the understanding words, though you still felt so frustrated with yourself. Sensing this, Sunwoo rests both his hands on yours, moving his thumb over your palm to hopefully soothe your nerves, “I…should have called you. I’m sorry I’m late today.”

“Don’t be…” You shake your head, and finally meet your husband’s eyes who looks to be relaxed even though he’s also nervous inside, “Was everything okay today?”

“It was more than alright.” Sunwoo bites his bottom lip, crushing himself out internally to not rush home even faster when he left work today. He tried to hide his thoughts but his hands on top of you betrayed him.

“Sunwoo…what’s wrong?”

“It’s just that---” Sunwoo sighs out exasperatedly at his past actions, taking one hand away to sweep his hair backwards, “I just should have come home earlier. I finished work early today but I decided to go to the shops for a while.”

“Hey, don’t blame yourself.” You reassured him for the first time in the whole week (that’s what you felt at least), bringing your hands to cup his face gently, “Did you get whatever it was that you wanted?”

“I…” Sunwoo shook his head, closing his eyes frustratingly, “I did but I would have come home earlier if I knew you were like this.” Suddenly, he took out his phone from his pocket, scanning the call log history and not once a single missed call came from you, “Where’s your phone by the way? Why didn’t you call me with your watch?”

“Phone is in the kitchen. And my watch…” You answered guiltily. You had a feeling where this conversation would go as it did many times in the past.

There were too many occurrences before this one when Sunwoo would come home with you in this state, sometimes better than this, unfortunately, more times worse than this. When Sunwoo realised that this wasn’t going to be an easy thing to predict and prepare, he got you a smartwatch that allows you to call him.

Never once had you used it.

How could you when you felt like the worst person ever to be burdening him with this? You should be able to do this alone. All the mothers on the internet did. All those single mothers probably did this all alone too. So you should be able to do this too?

“We talked about this.” Sunwoo said sternly, his eyebrows furrowed. He puts both of your hands away from his face to your lap, tapping on your watch on your wrist and calling his phone to make sure the dial still works. Sure enough, his own phone rings along with your saved name on his phone and his personalised ringtone for his wife, “Bubs…”

You shook your head, “I-I just can’t…not when you’re so busy with work and feeling tired.”

“Bubs.” Sunwoo’s voice shook and before saying anything else, he rested his forehead on your hands, taking deep breaths as he calmed himself down, “In sickness and in health right?” He continued his words as he looked back up with a tear rolling down his face. You whimper at the sight, your heart swelling as you can feel the love that he holds for you in his eyes.

“I-I know but sti---”

“Pregnancy is not supposed to be tackled alone like this.” Sunwoo shook his head, pressing a kiss with his plump lips on your forehead, “Someone is supposed to support you, hold you, and make sure you and the baby are safe and sound. I can’t be that someone if you don’t tell me, you know?” He reminded you once again, being the utmost patient with you as you wrap your arms around his neck and he holds the sides of your waist.

“Sunwoo…”

“Call me next time, please? You’re not a burden. Not to me. Never to me.” Sunwoo cups the side of your face with his palm and with a genuine smile that finally reaches his eyes, Sunwoo leans down to give you a soft peck on the lips despite your pout and complains after, “You’re beautiful, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

It was such a simple statement from your husband yet you felt your whole body relax at the genuine reassurance from the one person that you love the most in this world. Even though your eyes were still leaving tears down your face, Sunwoo looked at you with the most heartwarming gaze in the whole world, smiling with that box smile of his when you finally managed to let out a small smile, “I love you so much, Kim Sunwoo.”

“Now.” Sunwoo leans away to stand up slowly before kneeling back down again but this time with his back facing you, “Hop on! I bet you’ll be happy with what I got you.”

navi/masterlist!!

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️

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silcoitus · 2 months

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The Future of Silcoitus Fics on Tumblr

This pains my heart to do. It really does. But with the direction Tumblr is going with AI, I plan to remove my fics from here.

The Masterlists and fic pages themselves will stay, but I'll be editing each individual fic post so all that remains are the details (AO3 link, word count, chapter tags). It will be tedious and it will take time, but I want to protect the fics I've worked so hard on. I'll be rolling out this process starting today. Who knows how long it will take me. (Very thankful to Past Coi for making that giant spreadsheet that will surely make this process much easier.)

I liked posting full fics on here for those that don't use AO3. I liked giving people options. Tumblr has taken that away now by giving into stupid AI crap. So now, going forward, you will only get to read my work on AO3 and you must have an account to do so. So please sign up for AO3 if you haven't already if you want to continue to enjoy my work.

Future fics will have announcements linking to AO3. I will honor my taglists on here. I strongly encourage you to subscribe to me on AO3 if you don't want to miss anything.

I know this may ultimately be a fruitless endeavor—considering RBs will remain on Tumblr with their original content—but I have to at least try something.

Tumblr, you really fucked up.

#silcoitus #Silcoitus update

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dewdrops-whammy-bar · 17 days

Text

Playing Doctor

@cirrus-ghoulette made this fun post about Aether doing a pelvic exam on someone, which I reblogged with a VERY horny string of tags. Turns out people liked it (got yelled at in rbs) sooooo I was inspired to write this. Enjoy!

Tags: trans Dew, med kink, speculum use, aftercare, vibrators, established kink scene, use of safeword (yellow), checking in, aftercare, pwp

Terms used for Dew's genitals: cunt, pussy, vagina, walls, labia, clit, Tdick, dick, cock

Note: if you want a better idea of the speculum used, it’s a Cusco model. Yes I went down a rabbit hole of speculum research for this kinky gay fanfic.

Aether’s tail flicked idly back and forth as he arranged his tools on the countertop of the exam room. He was taking his time, knowing it would just make Dew more worked up. They had been planning this scene all day, going over boundaries (and more importantly, how to be inconspicuous). Dew had snuck into a rarely-used exam room in the infirmary while Aether distracted Omega, then Aether had slipped away and joined him. It was risky, but it was late at night and the older rooms were basically abandoned anyway.

Aether pulled a pair of latex gloves from the box on the counter and pulled them onto his hand with a sharp snap. He looked over at Dew, who was laid out on the exam table. He was fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie while watching Aether.

“Color?” Aether asked softly.

“Green,” Dew replied. His tail flicked against the paper on the table, giving away his excitement. Aether gave a pleased chuff before he closed his eyes for a moment and let himself step into his role for the scene.

“Could you open your legs for me?” Aether asked in his “nurse voice”- professional, detached, and clinical. He wasn’t sure why Dew got so turned on by it, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

Dew’s cheeks flushed a darker red and his legs spread. Aether could see his hard and throbbing T-dick peeking out from the bush of soft blonde curls between his legs.

“What are you having problems with again?” Aether asked, using his gloved thumbs to spread Dew’s labia in a mock exam. The smaller ghoul let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat.

”Um- I’ve been uh… unusually sensitive down there.” Dew replied. “It’s making me… aroused all the time and it’s really hard to focus on anything.” He shifted his hips, his cunt clenching and dripping. Aether placed a hand on his lower belly, gently holding his hips in place.

”Hold still, please.” He told Dew. “I’ll need to perform a full pelvic exam, if you’re comfortable with it.”

”Yes.” Dew blurted quickly. Aether’s lips twitched upward in a brief smirk before settling back into their previous neutrality.

”Alright. I’m going to use my fingers to palpate the inside of your vagina.” The Quintessence ghoul explained. “Deep breath in… and… out.”

Dew made an absolutely sinful noise as Aether inserted two gloved fingers into his cunt. He clenched around his fingers, more slick drooling from around the digits.

”Any discomfort?” Aether asked, curling his fingers upward into Dew’s G-spot. The fire ghoul whimpered and shook his head.

”N-no, just, um, pleasure.” Dew replied shakily. Aether hummed in acknowledgement and pressed his fingers deeper. Dew’s hips bucked.

“Hold still,” Aether said, his hand pressing harder on the smaller ghoul’s belly. “It’s normal to feel pleasure or even orgasm during the exam. Just let me know if anything feels painful or weird, alright?”

“Yeah.” Dew’s voice was breathy. He let out a whine as Aether’s free hand pulled back the hood of his clit. Aether had to stop himself from leaning down and taking it into his mouth.

“Your bottom growth is coming along well,” Aether commented. “You’re a lot bigger than you were at your last exam. How long have you been on hormones again? Three years?”

“Y- yeah.” Dew repeated. Aether glanced up at him, admiring his flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips.

“Is it giving you any discomfort?” Aether asked, rubbing his thumb over Dew’s twitching dick. “Oversensitivity or anything like that?”

“No, not- not before the rest of the o-oversensitivity.” Dew stammered, his breath hitching as Aether’s fingers explored his cunt. Aether hummed in acknowledgement.

“Alright, I’m not feeling anything out of the ordinary right now so I’m going to use the speculum.” Aether slowly slid his fingers out of Dew’s pussy, much to the dismay of his partner (if the needy whimper that escaped his throat was to be interpreted correctly).

Dew watched in anticipation as Aether applied lube to the tool. It was a metal one, rather than the more comfortable plastic speculums that the infirmary currently stocked. Aether knew Dew would like the cold temperature.

“Okay, relax for me.” Aether requested, positioning the tool at Dew’s entrance. Dew let out a surprised squeak as he felt the cold metal on him.

“Legs wider,” Aether told him, tapping the insides of his thighs. Dew obliged.

Aether’s thumb rubbed tiny circles at the base of Dew’s cock as he inserted the tool. Dew clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the wanton cry that escaped his lips. Aether pressed his hand to the smaller ghoul’s stomach again to prevent his hips from bucking.

“Oh Lucifer…” Dew breathed. His thighs clamped around Aether’s broad shoulders. Aether took a few moments to sit back and admire the view.

Dew’s cunt pulsed and clenched around the tool. Aether watched in satisfaction as another glob of milky slick oozed onto the paper on the exam table, joining the already impressive puddle there. Dew’s water traits were few, but one of the remaining ones was how wet he got. Not enough to rival Rain, but definitely enough to require a towel to be put down on the bed before sex.

“Color?” Aether asked softly.

“Green,” Dew replied immediately.

“I’m gonna open it now, alright?” Aether asked. Dew nodded and let his head fall back on the crinkly paper of the exam table. Aether squeezed the handles of the speculum, slowly spreading Dew open. His inner walls were soaked, strands of gooey slick stringing between the jaws of the tool.

“Looks good so far,” Aether remarked. He pulled a penlight out of the breast pocket of his scrubs and clicked it on, shining it inside Dew’s spread-open cunt. “Nice healthy cervix…” He scooted his chair closer and used one finger to gently stroke Dew’s inner walls. He let out an amused hum as Dew clenched in response, a broken whine being quickly muffled by his hand.

“Try to relax.” Aether murmured. His finger lightly explored Dew’s exposed flesh, drawing whimpers out of his “patient”. Now that he was opened up, slick pooled in the curved bottom jaw of the speculum. He dragged his finger through the pool and smeared it on Dew’s dick, making him twitch. He resisted the urge to lick it off, to bury his nose in the soft curls framing Dew’s cock and suck on it until the smaller man was incoherent. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. That wasn’t part of the scene, it could wait for another time.

“Mhm.” Dew hummed. His tight clenching slowed, though he still fluttered beautifully at every touch.

“Hmmm… I’ll try a different angle” Aether mused. He slowly rotated the speculum, now exposing the top and bottom walls of Dew’s cunt. He ran his finger along his bottom wall first, from up near his cervix down to his taint.

“How does that feel?” Aether asked. He bit back a love or a darling. It was tough to not praise Dew, to tell him how pretty he looked and how good he’d make him feel.

“Good.” Dew breathed. “Really good.”

Aether’s lips twitched in a smirk. He moved his finger to the top wall of Dew’s cunt and slowly dragged his finger toward himself, searching for the spot that would make Dew unravel at the seams.

There. The soft, spongy spot just behind his pubic bone. Aether applied pressure to the spot and Dew keened.

“Ah.” Aether chuckled. “There we are.” He rubbed tiny circles against the spot, drawing lewd noises out of Dew. His finger withdrew after a moment and Dew panted, his eyes dazed and unfocused.

Aether reached into the breast pocket of his shirt again and pulled out a small bullet vibrator.

“I’ll test your sensitivity now, alright?” Aether told Dew. The smaller ghoul nodded, hands gripping the side of the exam table.

Aether clicked the button on the end of the vibrator and it buzzed to life on its lowest setting. Using his penlight to guide him, he slid the tip of the toy against Dew’s upper wall until it pressed perfectly against that perfect little bundle of nerves.

Dew’s hand flew to his mouth again, this time shoving his fingers inside to muffle his noises. Aether clicked the button again, the vibrations increasing in intensity. He pressed his hand against Dew’s stomach to stop his hips from bucking. Dew’s tail lashed and reached out to curl around Aether’s arm.

“Sensitivity is high.” Aether muttered to himself. He was having trouble holding onto the little toy from all the slick on his fingers and as he readjusted his grip, the angle of the tip changed slightly. Dew let out a muffled cry, biting down on his fingers. His cunt clenched hard around the speculum and then he was gone.

Aether watched with satisfaction (and a little amazement) as Dew’s pussy spasmed and pulsed. It was a totally new and not unpleasant experience to watch his orgasm from the inside, his muscles clenching and releasing, slick drooling onto the table below him. He was transfixed.

“Y-yellow- '' Dew panted, snapping Aether back to reality. He pulled the vibrator away and looked up at Dew with concern.

“You alright?” Aether asked. Dew nodded, a dazed look on his face.

“Mhm, mostly. I- I wanna end the scene.” Dew replied. Aether nodded and gently closed the speculum, then slid it out of Dew. He kissed the inside of his thigh and set the tool aside before rolling his chair over to Dew’s side.

“How you feeling?” Aether asked, brushing some of his partner’s hair out of his face.

“Fuzzy brain.” Dew mumbled. “I liked that.”

“That’s good. Scale of 1-10, how fuzzy are you?” He always asked this question during aftercare to gauge the level of care Dew would need.

“Mmm… Four.” Dew mumbled. “Want cuddles.” He reached out for Aether and grabbed his hand.

“Can you wait a bit, firefly?” Aether asked. “I gotta clean up the room, but then we can cuddle all night long.”

Dew sighed and nodded. “Okay… that’s fair. Can I have the blanket?”

Aether retrieved the blanket he’d brought from the chair in the corner and draped it over Dew. “I’m gonna clean you up a bit down there, is that okay?”

“Mhm.” Dew nodded. Aether could hear him start to purr as he buried his face in the fuzzy blanket. Using a soft towel and some warm water from the sink, he wiped away most of the mess Dew had made of himself with a gentle hand. Then he helped Dew into clean underwear and sweatpants, his partner purring the whole time.

Fifteen minutes later, the exam room was spotless and Dew was still purring in his blanket cocoon. Aether scooped the smaller ghoul up effortlessly and nestled him against his chest.

“Mmmm…” Dew hummed, burying his face in Aether’s chest. “You’re so strong.”

“You’re not that heavy.” Aether chuckled, using his knee to turn the door handle and turning off the lights with his elbow. His voice dropped to a whisper once they were in the hallway. “I could carry two of you, no problem.”

“Suuure.” Dew’s whisper was as sarcastic as ever, but he shut up as Aether carried him through the back hallways of the infirmary and out a side door. He was fast asleep in Aether’s arms even before they got back to the den.

#Thanks to everyone who yelled at me in rbs you fueled me through this entire writing process #I'm bad at writing endings but I hope the shameless kinky gay transgender sex makes up for it #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #tw med kink #med kink #dewther #dewdrop/aether #dew/aether #aether/dewdrop #wham writing

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