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slytherinslut0 · 7 months

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MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Three- Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Thèos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Oral Sex (M Rec), Throat Fucking, Toxic Behaviour, Blackmail, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Humiliation, Manipulation, Gagging, Spitting, DubCon, CNC.

**here’s: one, two, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen & twenty.

As you approached the door of the familiar private classroom, a subtle sense of unease gnawed at the edges of your confidence.

Admittedly you got lost in the depths of your homework after dinner, becoming absorbed in the swirls of ink on your parchment, diligently crafting your Astronomy essay due in a mere three weeks from now. The minutes seemingly slipped away, and you realized you were running late for today's tutoring session, the devastating consequence of your intense focus on your academic obligations.

However, considering Mattheo's habitual tardiness--one of which he has mastered as well as any given art form--you assumed your delay wouldn't be at all consequential, and would most likely even go unnoticed. So without really thinking twice about it, you gently pushed open the door, expecting the room to be empty, the usual silence welcoming you as you stepped inside.

But then, to your astonishment, the room was not vacant. There he was, Mattheo Riddle, perched on the chair with an air of casual authority. His long legs were stretched out before him, feet confidently resting on the desk's edge, displaying a newfound confidence that sent a shiver down your spine. His arms were folded, his posture exuding an almost predatory assurance. His eyes, dark as the night and twice as intense, followed your every move as you stepped inside. The atmosphere crackled with tension, the weight of his gaze pressing upon you.

You closed the door with a deliberate slowness, the soft click echoing through the room like a gunshot in the silence, and his eyes locked onto yours, silently challenging you.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up." He taunted, his voice laced with a poisonous charm. The room seemed to shrink in the wake of his suffocating arrogance. "Guess Ravenclaws little good girl isn't so perfect after all...who would have guessed."

You rolled your eyes, a flush of embarrassment staining your cheeks as you awkwardly dropped your gaze to the floor. The weight of being late for the first time in your life was almost palpable, but you made an effort to play it off, attempting to regain your composure despite the lingering discomfort.

"Save the mind games for someone who's willing to play, Riddle," you said, slowly making your way toward him. "You have no right to talk, you're late every single week."

"Yeah but I'm not the one who turns into a sobbing mess over a less-than-perfect grade," Mattheo sneered, his tone dripping with disdain. "I don't have mental breakdowns just because I'm not the class's golden child in everything, and I'm definitely not the one who's about to graduate in merely a few months while still a fucking virgin-"

Your jaw dropped in astonishment at his audacity, a surge of indignation propelling you to slam your bag down on the desk in front of him. The force of your action knocked his feet off the desk, abruptly interrupting whatever sentence he had intended to finish, leaving him silenced in disbelief.

"At least I'm going to fucking graduate without needing someone to hold my hand like a child." You hissed, the words slipping past your teeth before you even had a chance to process them. "For someone who needs me so much, you sure don't act like you appreciate my help."

Mattheo's eyes darkened, a storm of arrogance and anger swirling in their depths, transforming his usual stoic demeanor into a deep scowl etched across his face. He rose from his seat, his tall frame looming over you, casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the room.

"You think I need you, Raven?" He purred, wetting his lips. "You really think that?"

You steeled your jaw, strengthening your stance, ignoring the fact that your fingers were trembling like leaves in the autumn wind.

"Where would you be without me, Riddle?" You whispered, kinking your neck back to catch his dark, hungry eyes. "How many tutors did you have before me? How many other students tried to help you but couldn't stand your arrogant, no-fucks-given attitude, hm?"

Your words draped the air with a palpable gravity, silencing Mattheo completely--an unprecedented reaction, given his usual quick retorts. The revelation ignited a fierce ember within you, fueling your resolve and lending a sharp edge to your words, as if each syllable carried the weight of your determination.

"That's what I thought..." your voice was low, reverberating as a mere whisper in the air, something flickering behind Mattheo's eyes that made your lips curl into a devilish smirk. "You know that without me, you'd be here forever...maybe you've managed to manipulate me into being your little toy, but that doesn't change the truth about this whole thing...you need me, Riddle, you fucking need me..."

Mattheo blinked, the ensuing silence lingering for what felt like a painful fucking eternity--time seemed to come to a standstill, everything around you fading into insignificance, leaving just you and the cunning, arrogant boy with tousled hair in your presence.

When he finally spoke, You couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your stomach, understanding all too well that his words were laced with an arrogant twist, a prelude to something manipulative and cunning yet to unfold.

"You're right," he finally said, stepping closer. "I do need you,"

His voice dipped into a low, sinister register, and the corners of his lips curled into a sadistic smile, sending a chill down your spine.

"I need you to watch your fucking mouth," the touch of his fingers on your arm nearly made you jump, his hand grazing up and over your shoulder. "I need you on your knees begging for my forgiveness," the pads of his fingers grazed your collarbone, and before you could even comprehend it, his large hand clasped around your throat, the other finding the small of your back as he pushed you up against the desk. "And then, I need you swallowing my fucking cum like the good little whore I know you are."

Without wasting a single second of time his plush lips attacked yours, his tongue delving past your teeth with a passionate urgency. You were painfully aware of Mattheo's manipulative tactics, understanding that he was using your vulnerability to his advantage, and the rational part of your mind screamed warnings at you, reminding you of the toxicity in his actions.

Yet, beneath the surface; as his hands roamed your curves, his tongue explored your mouth; an unsettling, exhilarating feeling lingered, a strange sort of affection for the very dominance that should have repelled you.

The awareness of his exploitation only intensified the rush, a twisted form of affection blossoming amidst the wrongness of it all. It was as if the knowledge of being used had become entangled with your desires, forming a paradoxical bond that you couldn't sever. In the midst of the moral turmoil, a dark, irresistible thrill coursed through your veins, leaving you helplessly drawn to the very thing you should have despised.

"You've been a very naughty girl, Raven..." his lips fell to your jawline, hands groping your curves, bunching the fabric of your uniform within his battered fists. "You've been swearing far too much...you were late...and now you want to act like you have power over me?" When he sunk his teeth into your earlobe, you yelped, flinching as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Don't get it twisted, princess...I hold the fucking power here...look at what I do to you..."

Your entire body was tingling, your fingers latching onto the fabric of his white button up dress shirt for dear fucking life.

"Mattheo-"

His lips fell lower, rough hands gripping your hips and shoving your ass back onto the desk behind you, parting your legs on either side of his strong body as he pulled you against him.

"This is what I do to good girls like you...I turn them into naughty little whores..." he purred, licking a flat line up the side of your throat, your lids involuntary fluttering shut at the breathtaking sensation. "...naughty little whores who take my cock and swallow my fucking cum."

His hands slid up your sides, taking the fabric of your skirt along with them, and you gasped as you felt it hike dangerously high up your thighs, trembling fingers tugging it back down to keep yourself covered.

Mattheo huffed, releasing the fabric. "You're not used to being bad though, are you, princess?"

His teeth sank into your collarbone, creating a tantalizing blend of pleasure and pain that sent shivers down your spine. Strands of his tousled hair caressed your cheek, the faintest whisper of a touch sending tingles across your skin. Your lips parted involuntarily, releasing a soft whimper, while Mattheo's response echoed in a deep, guttural groan that reverberated through the air, intensifying the charged atmosphere between you.

One hand gripped your jaw as he pulled back, meeting your eyes. "Answer me when I ask you a question."

Your breath hitched, flames roaring in your veins. "No, Mattheo...I'm not..."

"Mm," he purred, wetting his lips as he stared. "Do you know what happens to bad girls, Raven?"

Your stomach twisted as he tugged you closer by the hold on your jaw, his eyes darkening with desire as they darted across your face, seemingly examining your features as though they were precarious and new.

Your voice trembled. "No..."

"They get fucking punished."

Before you could respond, Mattheo shifted his hand, shoving two rough fingers between your teeth, reaching for the back of your throat and forcing a gag. Your eyes watered, beads of salty fluid threatening to spill down your cheeks, but he was unyielding, gripping the back of your neck with his other hand to force himself further down your throat--holding you in place while he did.

Your entire body was in flames, your thighs begging, fucking screaming in a need so disgustingly dirty you'd never experienced anything remotely close to it before.

Mattheo groaned, low in his chest, his dark eyes watching every single ministration of your face as you gagged on his fingers. The hand behind your head relented as he brought it to his crotch, palming the insistent bulge in his trousers as he watched you; seemingly not having blinked once.

"Unbutton your shirt," his voice was a hoarse whisper, laced with primal desire. He pushed his fingers deeper, clearing his throat. "Seal those filthy lips around my fingers, and unbutton your fucking shirt, princess..."

You cursed the fact that his body was separating your legs because all you wanted, more than anything on the face of the planet, was to squeeze your fucking thighs together--to give your cunt any sort of friction possible. Every word from his lips was doing inexplicable things to your body, and the need between your thighs was growing so insistent it was almost painful.

Following his commands, you sealed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue and bobbing your head painfully slowly as you teased him, trembling fingers moving to the buttons on your blouse and undoing them one by one until your chest was entirely exposed to him--your lungs stalled, pussy clenching as you watched his eyes darken with desire while they scanned your chest covered only by your navy laced bra, the hand on his crotch moving more insistently now.

"My fucking God, Raven," he breathed, jaw tensing so tight it looked painful. "I can't believe you've been keeping all of that hidden this whole time..."

You mewled involuntarily as he grazed your chest with his free hand, pushing his fingers deeper down your throat with enough intensity to make you cough as his demeanour switched and he palmed your breast with enough force to illicit an exasperated groan. He was possessed now, something swarming his pupils that made your entire body convulse with unfamiliar and unabashed need; you were almost certain there'd be a pool of your desire on the desk between your thighs at this point.

Without warning, he abruptly removed his hands from you. Your lips, parted in anticipation of a breath, yearned for air before his mouth enveloped yours once more. In a frenzy, his hands hurriedly reached for his belt, driven by an almost desperate urgency as you both inhaled sharply through your nostrils. Your lips meshed together in a way that seemed to consume each other, as if you could breathe in one another during the kiss.

Once he'd successfully freed himself, he pulled back, shoving his fingers back into your mouth and yanking you off the desk, his throbbing length pressing against your belly as he shoved himself against you; fingers forcing another gag from your chest, watching you with a primal fervour in his eyes so intense it was intoxicating.

Pulling his fingers from your mouth again, he cupped his hand out in front of you. "Spit."

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your brain buffering in attempt to process his words until his free hand shot into your hair, tilting your head until your lips were parallel to his palm.

"Spit, Raven," he repeated. "Spit into my fucking hand."

Your stomach contorted with a mix of disbelief and unfamiliar desire, your entire being thrown off balance. Each word that fell from his lips felt like a jolt, causing your heart to stutter in your chest. His eyes bored into you, searing your skin into flames, and without another moment's hesitation, you gathered the saliva he had coerced from you and spat it into his hand.

"Mm, that's it...good little whore..." He purred, bringing it down to his cock, rubbing it into his shaft as he stroked himself, eyes never once leaving yours. "Now, get on your knees for me, pretty girl."

Your breath caught in your throat. He, of all people, had just called you "pretty," and you were certain your ears were playing some sort of trick on you. It was a compliment you never expected from him, someone you had never imagined would see you in such a way. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you did as he said, squeezing your thighs together as you situated yourself in front of his feet.

Mattheo's hand remained in your hair, firmly gripping a fistful as he stroked himself. "Hands behind your back, Raven..." he muttered. "Let me see those delicious fucking tits of yours."

Your entire body shuddered, immediately clasping your hands together behind you without a second thought.

"That's it...fuck-" he was stroking himself faster, the veins in his hands tensing with every movement. You weren't sure who was enjoying this more, him or you. "You want this, princess? You want this cock in your dirty little mouth?"

Your throat was drier than the desert, each swallow a struggle against the arid emptiness within. Fingernails dug into your own flesh with a fierce intensity, the pressure threatening to break through the skin, mirroring the internal turmoil that gripped you. Holy fucking shit.

"Yes..." your voice was a pathetic whisper.

"Don't be so modest, Raven," he sneered, slowing his pace, twisting his wrist as he stroked his shaft, eyes never once leaving yours. "Beg for it."

Your stomach was in your throat. You'd never done anything like that before, you weren’t even really sure how. "I...um-please, Mattheo..."

His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest moment, a flicker of amusement dancing across his features before he locked eyes with you once more, his arrogance wrapping around the room like a suffocating cloak.

"Bloody hell, I said beg for it...does the prissy little princess not know how to fucking beg?" his voice was a hoarse growl, his vocal cords strained with lust. "Tell me how bad you want my cock, Raven, tell me how much you need it."

You couldn't believe your ears; the turn of events in your life felt utterly surreal. Never in your entire existence could you have imagined that this is where you'd find yourself right now--merely a few months away from graduation, on your knees for the most suffocatingly arrogant delinquent in the school who was making you beg to suck his fucking dick. A man who only last year wouldn't have paid you an ounce of mind, who probably didn’t even know you existed.

Your cheeks burned, but you fought through it, the arousal in your lungs fuelling your words. "Please, Mattheo...I want your cock so bad, I want you in my mouth, I want to choke on it, I want you to fuck my throat until you cum-"

His grip on your hair tightened, simultaneous with the grip on his cock as he cranked your head back, leaning down to meet your eyes; his lips hovering mere inches above yours.

"My God, you're a dirty fucking slut, aren't you?" He purred, smirking so wide it reached his eyes, his fingers bruising your scalp. "A dirty fucking slut whose sole purpose is to let me use her mouth whenever I want, yeah?"

You swallowed, wincing as he jerked your head back further, fucking into his fist faster, harder. "Yes, Mattheo..."

He sneered, clearly loving every fucking minute of this. "Imagine if anyone saw you like this...fuck-you're fucking filthy..." his voice was breathless, if you didn't know any better you'd think he was about to make himself cum before you had the chance to suck him off. "Apologize for being such a nasty little slut and I'll let you swallow my cum."

Your thighs clenched in need, your wetness seeping through your panties at this point. Gods, you wanted him so fucking bad you thought you were going to die.

"I'm sorry," you pleaded, eyes wide as you peered up at him, nearly-speechless. "I'm sorry for being a nasty little slut."

"That's right..." he purred, directing the head of his cock toward your mouth, groaning as your pressed your lips to it. "Good girl...fuck-so good for me..."

Your entire body was in flame, hands still clasped together behind your back as both of his thrust tightly through your hair, absentmindedly sealing your lips around his shaft, revelling in his skin's heat, dragging your tongue along the throbbing, pulsing underside. Riddle growled, bucking his hips, and you took him further into your mouth, gagging as his tip slammed the back of your throat.

"You take me so well, Raven..." he breathed, head falling back on his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut as his hands urged your head along his length. "Can't believe a mouth that annoying can feel this fucking good."

You groaned in assent, sucking hard at his cock as he slowly started to fuck your throat. You were both struggling to breathe, both losing control, both lost in an ocean of primal, urgent carnality. Pleasure was straining your seams, ready to explode inside of you, drool dribbling in globs from your chin, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you tried to hold the boundaries of your sanity together.

"Mm, fuck..." Riddle's grip was crushing your skull. "I changed my mind…I'm gonna' cum on those perfect tits, princess..."

Your bones almost liquefied at this--but you steadied your knees, gagging as he started fucking into your throat faster, thrusting deep, your eyes disappearing into the back of your head as you allowed him to use your mouth as a helpless hole for him to fuck--singlehandedly loving every fucking second of it.

"Shit-" he groaned, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck."

Your thighs clenched, brain fogged by a hurricane of lust, but when he pulled out, abruptly, your cognition returned--your vision clearing to an image of Riddle, red-faced, fucking his fist. Snarling, he jerked your hair, and choked on his moan, the sound stuttering while he shot the hot loads of his cum onto your chest and neck. He sucked down air in long, heavy breaths, waiting until the end of his release had dissipated, and then dropped you, stepping back to marvel at his masterpiece. You swore steam was wafting off your skin.

"Beautiful," he murmured. He pieced himself back together, buckling his belt. "Tell me how I taste."

Every inch of you tingled, chest heaving, jaw slack in an open pant. Keeping his stare, you brought a trembling hand to your chest, swiping his sticky cum off your tits and trailing it past your lips, slowly sucking it off your first two fingers. The taste melding with the mere prospect of what was happening elicited a low moan from your chest, and you shuddered, trapped in his gaze until you were finished.

"Salty." You teased, smirking up at him.

"Salty, huh?” He huffed, a devious grin on his face as he helped you up to your feet, rough palm grasping your forearm. "Important mineral for a balanced meal, yeah?"

You chuckled, heat swarming your skin as you stammered up to your feet, meeting his darkened eyes as you began buttoning up your shirt, taking in his newly flushed features--curly brown hair slightly sticking to his forehead before he ran a battered hand through it, brushing it back.

“Smartass,” you grumbled, turning toward the desk. “Next week we have an exam, so there won’t be a tutor session, you know that right?”

He released a breath, throwing himself into the usual creaky wooden chair beside yours. “Guess that just means you’ll have to do that again before the nights’ over,” he said. “You know, to compensate for next week.”

You rolled your eyes, failing to hide your smirk. “In your dreams, Riddle.”

“Oh, definitely not, princess.” He breathed, glimpsing you briefly. “In my dreams you do a hell of a lot more than that.”

——————

Chapter four->

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peachesofteal · 26 days

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ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

‘C’mon, you never want to go out.”

You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.”

“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely.

“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”

“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook?

“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?”

“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks.

“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.”

You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark.

It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits.

Even the drinks are licentious.

You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony.

Wouldn’t that be a sight.

The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow.

“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand.

“What is it?”

“Probably bourbon.”

“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“

“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight.

Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down.

It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones.

“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles.

There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one.

You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.

And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight.

“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder.

“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow.

“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver.

“Like, the mafia?”

“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry.

The 141.

The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know.

You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death.

Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood.

“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool.

“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two.

Which way?

You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard.

Is this the bathroom?

It must be.

The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then-

rips.

You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name.

Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent.

You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke.

There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles.

He has a gun.

“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly.

Obviously, you’re interrupting something.

“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?”

“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically.

“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear.

A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up.

“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back.

“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response.

“We are now.”

#ghoap x reader #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader

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roosterforme · 6 months

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The Younger Kind Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A new bed, a new toy, and another surprise for Bradley. He wanted to try everything with you, and you were keen to let him. And you were thankful he kept pushing things in a direction that you were becoming very comfortable with.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, smut, anal play, butt plug, pregnancy discussion, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4300 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

When Bradley woke up with a hangover on Sunday morning, that was his first indication that he'd overdone it at the Hard Deck. His second indication was the fact that it was eleven o'clock and he was just stirring. He would have never had a chance to enjoy a night out drinking like that if you weren't here with him to get up and take care of Noah.

As he climbed out of bed, he groaned and headed right for the kitchen where he drank a full glass of water and turned the coffee maker on. There were dishes in the sink, but you and Noah were nowhere to be found. He poked his head out the back door and then looked out the front window before he saw you both.

You were crawling around on the driveway with Noah and a bucket of sidewalk chalk, and it made him so fucking happy. His kid looked delighted. Then he remembered asking you if he could fuck a baby into you last night. "Oh, god," he groaned, rubbing his eyes with his fingers until he saw stars.

He stumbled back into the kitchen to retrieve his coffee mug and take a long sip. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable here. He didn't really care if you wanted to wait; you were so young, and you were just starting out in your nursing career. He could understand that. He just wanted to know what you were thinking.

The coffee was scalding hot, but he downed it anyway before returning to the bedroom to pull on his gray sweatpants. Then he headed out to the driveway, barefoot and missing the two of you.

"Morning," he greeted, his head still not feeling too great. And on top of that, he was afraid he'd be able to read your discomfort on your face after he told you he wanted an answer about a baby. But instead you jumped to your feet and closed the distance to him with a vibrant smile on your face.

"Hi, Daddy," you whispered, running your chalk covered hands up his chest and giving him the kind of kiss that was probably not appropriate for the driveway. But he didn't really care. You had his bottom lip between yours, and your fingers were tugging through his messy hair, and he'd have taken you right inside if it weren't for Noah asking him to draw a dinosaur.

Should he bring up the baby discussion? Should he wait? You didn't seem to be expecting anything from him at the moment as you ran your lips along his neck when he accepted a piece of blue chalk from Noah.

"A dinosaur?" he asked his son. "How big?"

"Huge!" Noah exclaimed, jumping into the air. "Mommy drew three little ones already," he said, pointing across the driveway. Bradley didn't think he'd ever get tired of listening to Noah call you that. So with a smile on his face, Bradley squatted down and started drawing a pretty sad looking creature with a lot of teeth.

"Are you sure that's a dinosaur?" you asked him as you drew a fourth smaller one that actually looked correct. "Noah, Daddy needs art lessons. And maybe some glasses, too."

Bradley tossed a piece of chalk playfully at you as Noah came over to see the ugly dinosaur he had drawn. "He does," his son agreed, picking up yellow chalk and trying to fix the dinosaur.

It wasn't until much later that night that you were lounging on the couch with your head resting on Bradley's thigh and a bag of Skittles in your hand that he said anything about it. He stole a few pieces of candy and then ran his thumb along your flawless cheek. "Baby?" he asked, voice deep and raspy. You rolled onto your back so you were looking up at him, and Bradley watched your jaw work as you chewed.

"Hmm?"

He wanted to make sure he got this right, because he didn't want you to worry about his response or your own thoughts on the matter. "How would you feel if you got pregnant?"

Your face stayed calm and serene, and a smile played at your lips. "I was just waiting for you to bring this up again." But he didn't respond, still unwilling to affect your opinion. "If I got pregnant right now? I'd be very, very nervous, Daddy. And also really excited."

His heart rate ramped up so quickly, he felt dizzy even though he was sitting down. "Excited? Yeah?"

"Very," you replied, popping a purple Skittle between your lips. "Noah would be an amazing big brother. And you're already an excellent dad who dotes on his child. I know that a baby would just send you over the moon."

Bradley hauled you squealing up onto his lap, sending Skittles flying across the carpet. "Hey! That was my snack!" you protested, but then he was kissing you and wrapping his arms around you.

As you straddled his legs, he ran his big hands up your back and said, "I'm not in a hurry, okay? I'm sorry if I made you feel like I was last night."

You kissed his nose and whispered, "You didn't."

"Regardless," he replied, "I'll let you bring it up again when you're ready."

You giggled. "You want me to tell you when I'm ready for you to fuck a baby into me?"

He groaned and tightened his grip on you. "Yes. And I want you to say it just like that, okay?"

You were laughing harder in his lap as he smiled and tried to kiss you.

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

Later in the week, everyone was rushing through breakfast when Bradley asked, "Did you say anything to Dr. Kelly about taking a day or two off?"

You chewed up a piece of toast and said, "I'll ask her today, promise. It's just that I'm a little nervous to bring it up."

"Why?" he asked, handing Noah a fork for his eggs. "I thought you liked her."

"I do!" you replied a bit defensively. "She's great. But she also asked me after I cut my hand if there were any... issues going on at home."

Bradley's eyes went wide. "Oh."

"Yeah. I mean, I told her there were no issues at home and that you were deployed at the time anyway, but it was still a little awkward."

You watched his brown eyes as he slowly brought them to focus on your face. "I should stop by and pick you up one day. I haven't been there yet. They don't know me. Maybe that would help."

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his waist. "Sure. You can do that if you want. Gotta run so I can come home for lunch when the new bed gets dropped off!" You kissed him and then Noah and shouted that you loved them as you ran out the front door.

You were way too excited about the new bed. And about the things you were going to do with Bradley in the new bed. And you were giggling as you thought about how he was going to react to some of your suggestions. He had been extra loving after you assured him you'd let him know when you wanted to try for a baby. The new bed was about to get a workout. But first things first.

The morning at work went by quickly, and then you were back at home where you had already removed all the bedding and Bradley had left the mattress propped up in the hallway. Then the doorbell rang with so much commotion, you just showed everyone where the old bed was and where you wanted the new bed. And then you stood in the kitchen doorway and ate a bowl of cereal and watched with a smile as the old bed was taken away. It was being donated to someone who wouldn't care that your boyfriend and his ex made a sex tape on it. Someone else could enjoy the bed since you were having a hard time with it.

"All finished," one of the men told you about thirty minutes later as they headed out.

"Really?" You peeked into the bedroom and had to press your lips together so you didn't squeal. It was perfect. When you jumped onto the mattress and rolled all the way across it, you sighed at how comfortable it was. And you had to admit, it was nice using Bradley's credit card for this.

You quickly made the bed with a set of clean sheets, and then you retrieved the things you'd ordered online out of your underwear drawer and tucked them under your pillow for later tonight.

Since you took a long lunch break at home, you had volunteered to stay at work a little late. Bradley was responsible for picking Noah up, and you were sure Casey was flirting with him probably right at this very moment. You rolled your eyes as you carefully disinfected the exam rooms and set everything up for the following day. Casey looked as desperate as Helen had. You weren't desperate. Your boys would be waiting for you when you got home.

At least that's what you thought. You could hear Dr. Kelly talking to someone in the hallway, and then you heard her laugh as she got closer to the room you were cleaning. "She's right in here."

Then Noah and Bradley were in the room, and you were trying to get your latex gloves off as quickly as possible so you could take Noah in your arms. "What are you doing here?" you asked Bradley as you held Noah tight. "I'm done in fifteen minutes."

Bradley leaned in and kissed you, and you realized just how good he looked in his khaki uniform. "Just wanted to surprise you. Noah kept asking what it looked like here."

You smiled at him, and then Bradley and Dr. Kelly returned to their previous conversation while you showed Noah the stethoscopes and the huge container of cotton balls. Then you set him on the table and pretended to examine him while he giggled.

"Mommy, can I have a sticker?" he asked. "I got one last time I went to the doctor."

"You can have more than one," you replied, kissing the top of his head.

When you left work with Noah in your arms, his shirt was covered in seven stickers, and he was all smiles. When you buckled him in the back of the Bronco and squeezed his hand, you turned and looked up at Bradley over your shoulder. "Will you drive my car home so I can drive with Noah?" you asked softly.

"Of course," he replied immediately, handing you the keys to the Bronco.

You dug around in your bag for your own keys, and when he took them, you said, "I love you so much."

Bradley smiled and kissed your cheek. "I love you, too. See you at home, Princess."

And then you got to turn on the playlist you made for Noah as you guided the Bronco along the busy streets with Bradley right behind you.

"Are you going to get married?" Noah asked, and when you looked at him in the rearview mirror, his face was calm as he looked out the window.

"Married?" you asked, unsure how to answer him.

"Are you and Daddy getting married? Everyone at school has people who are married," he said. "Mommys and Daddys and stuff."

Bradley mentioned putting a ring on your finger while the two of you were going at it. You weren't exactly sure how sincere he was about that. But it would be perfect. "Maybe someday, sweet Noah."

"Okay," he replied before asking you what's for dinner.

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

It was almost comical the way you wouldn't let Bradley in the bedroom to look at the new bed until after dinner. You got Noah situated with a cookie and an episode of Mickey Mouse, and then you wrapped your arm around Bradley's waist and asked, "Ready to see it?"

"Yes. I've been ready since I got home, but you wouldn't let me," he muttered as you moved to stand behind him and guided him down the hallway while you covered his eyes. "Is this really necessary?" he asked, laughing as he stumbled.

"Yes," you replied, getting him situated inside the bedroom before you lowered your hands. "What do you think?"

He looked at the bed and the bedding, and it was all very nice, but then he noticed what was missing. "Where's your crown?" he asked, looking back at you. "It belongs on that post on my side of the bed." He was gesturing to the completely empty bedpost, getting worried that it had been removed with the old bed.

You were looking up at him in awe. "I have it," you promised him, running your fingers through his hair. "You make me feel special."

"It's your princess crown," he replied. "It belongs on the bed. And you are special." Bradley watched you retrieve it from your dresser drawer, and when you handed it to him, he put it right where it belonged. "That's better."

But you were already climbing up onto the bed in your scrubs and crawling toward him. You looked a little nervous as you stopped on your knees in front of him. "I thought we could break the new bed in tonight after Noah goes to sleep?"

"Hell yes," he groaned, leaning in to kiss you. But you scooted away from him and wouldn't let him touch you at all. Then Bradley watched the little grin that broke out on your face as you reached under your pillow and pulled out some soft looking pink fabric. "What's that?" he croaked, his hand coming to rest on his hardening cock as you draped it over the front of your body.

"Just a cute nightie I found. Do you like it?" Your eyes were glittering with mischief, but Bradley could tell that you needed to hear how incredibly sexy he found you.

The blush pink lace and silk were going to look amazing hugging your body. And what a way to break in the new bed. "I love it, Princess," he promised, gesturing to where his hand was resting. "Obviously I can't get enough of you."

You looked pleased with yourself as you crawled back across the bed, and Bradley groaned out loud as you kissed his cock through his khaki pants. Then you looked up at him and whispered, "I have some more surprises, too. I'm going to go take a shower first, Daddy. Will you get Noah ready for bed?"

Bradley nodded and melted into your touch as you eased your hands up his body before kissing him and scampering off to the bathroom. "Fuck, fuck," he grunted as he watched you go. Before he could get on with his night, he had to count to fifty to get himself under control.

When he got to the living room, Noah was already yawning. "You almost ready for bed, Bub?"

"I don't want to go to bed," he complained with another yawn. "I want to eat popcorn and play in the cushion fort with Mommy."

Bradley kissed him and turned off the TV before scooping him up. "It's getting a little late for a fort, okay? And besides, it's Daddy's turn to play with Mommy."

"What are you going to play with?" Noah asked as Bradley helped him change into pajamas.

Bradley snorted and said, "Hopefully everything." He kissed Noah and tucked him in, and by the time he got back to his own bedroom, you were wearing that pretty nightie, waiting for him on the bed. And the soft glow of the bedside lamp made you look like a dream.

"Daddy," you whispered, your eyes on him as he unbuttoned his uniform shirt and yanked it off. You were biting your lip as he tossed his undershirt aside, too.

"You ready to break in this bed, Princess?" he asked softly as he crawled across the bed to get to you. The mattress seemed nice, and sleeping on it would probably be great, but he wanted to get his hands and lips on you first. "You look beautiful."

You giggled as he caged you in with his big body and kissed you. Your small hands were warm on his face and in his hair as you guided him down for more kisses. When he eased his hands up your thighs and around to your bare ass, you whispered, "I used your credit card to buy the nightie."

"Good girl. Did you earn another spanking?"

He was kneading his hands into your butt and thighs as you said softly, "I actually bought some other things, too. Do you want to see them?"

Bradley looked up into your eyes which were filled with apprehension now, and his hands froze on your body. "Yeah, I wanna see them, but what's wrong?"

You reached your hands back under your pillow as you asked, "You know how you told me you never spanked anyone before?"

"Yeah," he grunted. Then Bradley's eyes went wide as you held three items out to him.

"Have you ever had... anal sex before?" Your voice was so soft as you showed him a bottle of lube, a purple USB drive, and a purple silicone butt plug. You were nervously nibbling on your lip, awaiting an answer, but Bradley's brain couldn't seem to put one together fast enough.

His hands were moving back to your ass seemingly of their own accord as he buried his kisses against your neck. "No," he told you, kissing along the top of your chest and back up to your lips. "Never."

You moaned softly and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his khaki covered erection closer to you. "Do you want to, Daddy?"

"Fuck, Baby," he whined, bringing his hands up to your face to cup your cheeks. "I told you already, you make me want to do everything with you."

When you whimpered, Bradley eased himself down your body, pushing the nightie up and kissing your pussy. He ran the tip of his nose through your wetness as you bucked against him, but he didn't stop there. He propped you up in the air with your legs spread wide, and he kissed your asshole. You even looked pretty here. Tight and perfect.

"You've never had anyone fuck you here before?" he asked, eyes on yours as you propped yourself up on the pillows.

"No. Of course not. You were the first guy to ever go down on me! Remember?"

"I remember very fucking well. And I plan on being the last. The last to do anything." He kissed you there again as you whined his name.

"Bradley. Anal sex can be something else we do for the first time together."

He groaned and had to thrust himself against the new bed for some relief. "Baby, you're killing me," he said before kissing along your pussy and down, spreading your wetness everywhere. "You're a fucking dream."

"Daddy," you gasped as he wrapped his lips around your clit. "Daddy, we need to start with the plug tonight. Okay?"

"Mmhmm." He ran his thumb in a little circle around your asshole as he kissed your thigh. "You put that toy on your princess credit card?"

"I did," you gasped as he teased you.

"Good girl." Then he was caging you in again and kissing your mouth, worshipping you. "So sweet. We'll go slow. I'll take care of you."

"I know you will, Daddy."

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

You would have felt a little bit ridiculous, but Bradley was so outlandishly turned on, it didn't matter if your movements felt clumsy. He was making sounds you'd never heard from him before, and his words next to your ear were so sweet.

And you hadn't even told him what comes next yet.

After you managed to get him naked, you offered to go down on him. "You want me to take care of this first?" you asked, running your fingers along his erection. He was so hard, it looked painful.

"No," he said, gently taking your hands in his. "I plan on fucking your pretty pussy once we get your ass full of the toy." He was smirking as he eased you onto your back and hiked your nightie up above your breasts. "Gorgeous."

You spread your legs wide for him and propped yourself up with a pillow under your lower back. "I'm ready," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. Because this wasn't scary with him. A few seconds later, Bradley was working his lube covered fingers around your hole while he kissed your lips and your cheeks.

"Does that feel okay?" he asked.

Your head was tipped back, and you were panting slightly as you said, "It feels good. Different. But good." Your voice sounded needy, and Bradley ate up your words with his lips as you moaned for him. He was going slowly, never pushing so that he hurt you.

Once he had worked the tip of his middle finger inside you, both of you seemed surprised by how much you were enjoying yourself. You felt full in a new way, and your body was telling you to take more. Bradley held your gaze and whispered, "You look like you're really enjoying this, Baby."

"So do you."

He groaned softly, his cock resting against your thigh and leaking precum. "I love this. I love you." And with those words, he eased his finger a little further. And he went slow just like he promised he would when the time came for your plug.

"Use more lube?" you asked him softly.

"Of course, Baby," he promised. And he applied just the right amount of pressure to the toy while he ran his other hand along your neck and kissed you so sweetly, pausing at every gasp and moan from you. "You're doing so well."

And suddenly you felt full and tight in all the right places, and you could tell by Bradley's reaction that you'd done everything right. He kissed you hard on the mouth, moaning your name. When you looked up at him, you whispered, "Let's make a video."

His cheeks were flushed pink and his brown eyes were wide in disbelief. "Are you serious, Princess?"

"Yes," you said, your voice just a needy little whine. "I got the purple USB drive for us. Now get your phone ready and fuck me, Daddy."

He scrambled off the bed to get his phone, simply asking, "Are you ready for me to start recording?"

"Yes," you gasped, running your hands along your breasts. You were so turned on, you were almost ready to beg him for relief.

But he held up his camera and climbed back in bed as he said, "There she is. There's my pretty Princess. And her new toy."

"Daddy, please," you managed as he propped his phone up on the nightstand, and then his lips were on yours again. And it felt like his hands were everywhere.

"Oh, god damn," he growled, and you were still spread wide as he ran his angry, red cock along your pussy. When he hit your clit, you cried out, already about to come. "Oh, shit," he whined, pushing his cock inside you.

You were keening, and he was pressing his mouth to yours to keep you quiet until he bottomed out. You felt so full. So good. And then Bradley rocked those delicious hips against yours. "Oh my god!"

His flushed cheeks and handsome face were all you could see as he fucked you, keeping your legs spread wide. A few more strokes, and you were coming, clinging to him as you clenched hard. "Good girl," he coaxed. "You're just loving me and your plug at the same time, aren't you?"

"Yes!" you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued to fuck you. And then his words became unintelligible as you reached for his phone to capture a few more seconds of video as he came inside you with his hand on your breasts.

When you managed to watch the playback of the video later, you would notice that Bradley took the phone from you to record the way his cum seeped out of your pussy and all over the base of your toy. But in the moment, all you knew was how fucking good you felt. How good you always felt with him. Because he told you a million times over that he loved you. That he'd protect you with his life just like he would Noah. And he let you have your new bed and your very own video, because he knew that's what you needed, too.

When Bradley curled up with his head on your chest, pressing soft kisses to your breasts, he whispered, "You're incredible. I love you. I love my family." His thumb and index finger were caressing your left ring finger, and you were thinking about throwing away your birth control.

"I'm going to use the credit card for a booster seat for Noah for my car," you whispered. You were trying not to get ahead of yourself, trying not to think about the fact that it would be a tight squeeze to get an infant car seat back there as well. But Bradley was the one who went ahead and made you feel a wave of excitement in your chest.

"Let's order it tonight. And maybe we'll need some more car seats someday."

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

Daddy and Princess will return with their toy. Noah will return with more angelic adorableness. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 36

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branded-rose · 10 days

Text

Adam bolted upright in bed, a shout on his lips that dropped off as his wings shot out, smacking his lieutenant in the head and nearly pushing her off the mattress.

Lute met the rude awakening with all the urgency it deserved, springing up and drawing her fists in front of her defensively as Adam let loose a string of profanity.

She quickly drew up the blind to let light into the room before she darted around the bed; her eyes scanning the room quickly for signs of danger even if she knew there shouldn’t be anything.

It was Heaven. What threats would there realistically be?

When she was satisfied she returned to the bed, about to ask her superior officer what sick joke he was pulling when she stopped.

Adam was pale, his hands trembling as he brought them up to wipe cold sweat from his brow. A string of curses still fell from his lips, albeit strained.

She tentatively reached a hand out, placing it gently on his shoulder.

“Uh… Sir?”

Adam flinched, turning his head to meet Lute’s concerned expression. He forced a smile and shrugged, trying his very best to play the whole thing off.

“What? Just a nightmare. Geez you’re acting like we’re being attacked or something. Relax.” He forced a laugh and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

“I don’t get nightmares, Sir. When you wake up screaming, what else am I supposed to think?”

“Heh… right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his shoulders dropping as he exhaled and looked up at the ceiling.

“You’re lucky then. Cause they SUCK.”

Lute fell silent a moment, examining Adam closely. It wasn’t often she saw him so… uncertain. So shaken. Even in times he was unsure of himself he covered it up with bravado.

She scooted closer, pushing on his shoulder to encourage him to turn so she could realign some of the golden feathers in his wing that had dislodged when he’d struck her.

“What was it about?” Her fingers very delicately and precisely moved over the wing, sliding the feathers back into place and easing any discomfort. Something that was visible as she watched Adam’s posture relax.

“Just human stuff. You wouldn’t get it.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“You haven’t been a human in over a millennia.”

“Yeah well-“ He rubbed the back of his neck. “-that stuff stuck with me. I guess.” He shrugged, waving his hand.

Silence fell between them, Lute uncertain how to respond and Adam lost in his thoughts.

The former finished straightening up his wings, noticing how Adam’s eyes were beginning to droop as he stared into space.

She got up and closed the blinds, allowing the room to fall back into darkness before returning to her spot. Her chin brushed against his shoulder.

“You should go back to sleep.”

“Hmm? Oh… yeah.” He waited for her to get comfortable before he drew close, his arms and wings wrapping around her small frame, almost protectively.

Possessively.

Lute settled into the embrace, familiar and warm as it was. She couldn’t help but smirk softly as she rested her chin on top of his head, his ear against her chest.

“Hey… Lute. You… won’t betray me or whatever, right?” He muttered softly, his tone laced with an uncertainty that was atypical of him.

Lute’s brows furrowed slightly, confused by the suddenness of the question.

“Of course not, Sir.” Her grip on him tightened ever so slightly, a small smile on her lips.

“…I’ll always be by your side.”

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

Idea/prompt from the amazing @kimik0hippie! Seriously, their stuff singlehandedly inspired me to come out of my 800000 year hiatus and actually do illustrations again. So please go check their art out. ;D

Adam & Lute © Vivziepop/A24

Artwork © Branded-Rose

#my art #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel adam #guitarspear #adam x lute #brandedroseart #my headcanon is that exorcists are heaven born so they wouldn't get nightmares really.

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otdiaftg · 6 months

Text

The Raven King - Chapter Nine

Day: Saturday, October 28th Time: 12:33 AM EST

Andrew pushed his tray across the counter for Roland to retrieve when he had a minute and slanted a look at Neil. "Stop hiding. This was your idea; deal with the consequences." "It's not that easy," Neil said. Explaining his discomfort wasn't any easier. Andrew had promised to watch Neil's back until May, but when he made that deal he said Neil's growing reputation could keep him safe the rest of his Fox career. Andrew assumed Neil could graduate from Palmetto as long as Neil played his cards right with Kevin. Neil hadn't yet told him plans had changed, which made it harder to say why tonight was making him unhappy. Finally he fell back on the half-truth he'd given Andrew that summer. "I've never been in a position where I could get to know people. I know I have to let them in if we're going to make it through the season, but it'd be easier if they were just names and faces. How have you stayed so disconnected for so long?" "They're not interesting enough to keep my attention." "Kevin is. So is your brother, apparently." Neil wasn't surprised when Andrew didn't acknowledge either accusation. He pressed on. "What about Renee?" "What about her?" "She's not interesting?" "She's useful." "That's it?" "You expected a different answer?" "Maybe," Neil said, and hesitated when Roland finally showed up. Roland stayed only long enough to get their tray before leaving again. Neil looked back at Andrew and wondered at the cool smile on Andrew's face. He was being mocked, but he wasn't quite sure why yet. "Most everyone is waiting for something to happen with you two. Even Nicky thinks it's inevitable. But Renee promised Allison nothing would come of it. Allison said as much to Seth. Why?" "Does it matter?" Neil gave an uncomfortable shrug. "Yes? No? It should be—it is— irrelevant, but..." He hesitated, but Andrew said nothing, unwilling to make this easy on him. Neil shouldn't be surprised by Andrew's attitude, but he was annoyed regardless. "I'm just trying to understand." "Sometimes you're interesting enough to keep around. Other times you're so astoundingly stupid I can barely stand the sight of you." Neil scowled at him. "Forget it. I'll ask Renee." "You'll have to stop avoiding her first."

Art used with permission by Lunapiq. Thank you @lunapiq

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brabblesblog · 4 months

Text

The Mirror.

Ascended Astarion x my tav (Ban). Second person.

A small drabble that is set after the ‘Whither’ series. Plot relevant to the sequel fic.

Astarion fucks you in front of an ornate mirror. A reversal of the more common ‘Astarion doesn’t have a reflection but you do’ trope.

Soft!Dom Ascended Astarion Full art here by @CrlNsfw on X

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

“Even for you, this is a bit much.”

Behind you, Astarion laughs. You watch him through the mirror as he comes closer to you, dragging a chair with him. He plants it directly in front of the mirror and sits on it, his reflection’s knees and his own knees almost touching.

“I didn’t buy this from your family, if that’s what you’re so concerned about. And-“ he makes a show of leaning forward and admiring his own reflection, tilting his face to see better. You can’t help but watch him as well, entranced by those handsome features you knew like the back of your hand.

His eyes flick to yours and he leans back on the chair, spreading his legs.

“Sit.” He taps his right thigh.

You don’t need much convincing. You move over, climbing over his leg to do so as there was little space between him and the mirror.

Both of you stare at the mirror, at the crease your ass makes on the fabric of his pants. Astarion breaks the silence.

“It would be interesting, don’t you think, if we could see how my cock looks like buried inside you?” he begins, his one hand wrapping around your waist. The other palms his cock through his pants.

You smirk. “Maybe.” Your eyes are glued to that growing bulge between his legs. He smiles at you impishly through the mirror and spreads his legs further, an open invitation for you to do whatever you wanted with him.

You move to kneel between his legs, hands immediately going to the laces of his trousers and undoing them. You tug them low enough to just free his cock, and your mouth waters. He’s not fully hard yet, but a small amount of precum is already collecting at the tip.

You close the distance, your tongue licking off that wetness, tasting him. He hisses, his eyes boring into yours for a second before he stares back at the mirror. You wrap your hand around him at the base, and you lean forwards and take the rest of his cock into your throat.

His own reflection stares back, cock growing hard inside seemingly nothing. You let his head hit the back of your throat, and without further hesitation you begin bobbing your head.

Astarion growls and shifts more forward in the chair, hips thrusting upwards to meet your mouth. He’s all too willing to fuck your mouth hard, knowing you can take it. With each thrust you can feel his cock get harder, slamming against your throat. You swallow past the discomfort, letting him in deeper.

“Ban.” His voice is a low growl, and he stills his hips. He repeats his earlier command. “Sit.”

You reluctantly release his cock from your mouth, missing the velvety feel of his skin and that wonderful saltiness on your tongue. As you pull away his precum dribbles down your chin, and a string of it connecting his tip to your lips stretches.

“Gorgeous,” he says. His hands urge you up on your feet and turn you around, so you can face the mirror too. He then uses a hand to grip himself, aligning himself with your entrance as you move to sit down.

For a moment he doesn’t push in. He just rubs his pink, swollen tip across your entrance and folds, rubbing it against your clit. You moan in response, and he can’t help but laugh.

“So wet for me already,” he says. And without another word, he lines up and his other hand guides you down to fully sit flush on him.

His cock stretches you, but you’re already so wet and ready that there isn’t much resistance. Astarion groans at the sensation of being inside, and as you clench around him in response he has to fight the urge to just rut and chase his orgasm quickly. He wants to take it slow, to watch himself inside you.

Eyes looking past you to the mirror, he begins to thrust, his hips rolling at a languid pace for now. Your eyes join his, and you both watch his cock plunge into you again and again. You can see his tip leaking, can see where your walls press against his length.

“Fuck,” he hisses behind you, and you feel him thrusting harder, hips no longer rolling but just pounding. The image of his cock in the mirror becomes almost a blur as he rams himself inside you again and again, your walls clenching harder and harder as you approach your own climax. You slip a hand down and rub your clit to help yourself along.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he can’t help but say as he watches his cock go in and out of you. He’s getting close. He wants to tip his head back and just enjoy the sensation, but the view of his cock inside of you was something he wanted to see as he came. His hand reaches down and moves your own hand off of your clit, replacing it. He rubs it with an insistent touch, flicking it with just the right amount of speed and pressure.

“You like seeing this?” He asks. “My cock, just burying into you? Fucking you?”

You nod, whimpering as you two both watch the mirror. Your pussy is so slick and warm that he knows it won’t take long for you to come. And try as he might to hold on, he knows he won’t last either.

He lets go of what little restraint he had, hips hitching up hard, thrusting into you mercilessly. His eyes bore into the image in the mirror, just staring. The sight of himself so deeply impaling you is intoxicating.

You whimper his name, warning him, and he nods, his fingers on your clit increasing to a frenzied pace. “Come,” is all he has to say, and you do so at his command, your pussy clenching hard against his cock. He pumps into you hard as you ride out the waves of your orgasm, his hands and hips keeping up the punishing pace.

The feeling of your walls squeezing all around him makes him finish as well, and he groans as he stills his hips, watching his cock begin to shoot thick ropes of his seed inside you. You both see him fill you up, the come filling your channel, some of it beginning to drip out.

You sit there for a moment longer, wanting to just keep seeing him inside you, his seed kept inside of you by his cock.

Astarion smiles.

“The mirror wasn’t such a bad idea, was it, darling?”

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account

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plutoswritingplanet · 7 months

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Unpunishable (Shang Tsung x F!Reader)

a/n: no one asked for this, but hey, i've been in love with that soul stealing stink-man, i had to finally write something for him. this one is specifically MK1 story mode adjacent, but i do want to write more (for MK11 and the movie), Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (kinda i guess), Captivity, playing fast and loose with the canon, Kinda Soft Shang?, Reader is a Blood Mage (nothing too serious tho)

Summary: After you and your friends raid Shang Tsung's laboratory, you get caught and kept captive by the Sorcerer himself.

Is it wrong to want more?

That was the thought plaguing you from the beginning of your training at the Wu-Shi temple. Blood magic was frowned upon in Outworld. For you to even cross the threshold of the realm, there had been some serious negotiations set in place. Still, the Fire God has managed to convince Empress Sindel of your assets as a healer.

And, you were a curious thing, after all. Humans were not born with magic in Earthrealm, it could only be bestowed by a God. Which is why your natural talent at commanding blood, both yours, and later someone else's, was a strange sight indeed. Strange enough to stir the interest of Outworld's nobility, granting you a safe passage to the tournament with your training companions.

Which is how you landed here. Between helping Raiden navigate the Tournament, through the secret mission on behalf of Liu Kang, and right up to now. As you sit, poised like a decorative doll, hands locked behind your back, intricate, golden cuffs digging into the skin of your wrists. There are piles upon piles of golden coins surrounding you, gold trickles down the walls in long smears of paint, golden dust stains your skin. A kink forms deep within your spine, from the uncomfortable position you have been put in.

And then, there's the deep, bleeding cut, stretching the expanse of your thigh. It was a stupid idea, tagging along for the mission to find Shang Tsung, and bring him to Liu Kang for questioning. You shouldn't have followed your friends into that one. Even more idiotic, was your short stand against Princess Mileena, as her Tarkat affliction took control of her. The fight, if you could even call it that, ended with you gaining a black eye and an awful, ugly cut, made by Princess's knives.

You shift in your position, trying to relieve some of the discomfort. Instead, the thick fabric of your pants slides on the wound, making you wince in pain. Flexing your fingers behind your back, you try to focus on the constant throbbing in your leg. If the traditional means of escape have been taken from you, perhaps a more finessed touch would be efficient.

Blood trickles on your skin, and every fiber of your being zeros in on the feeling. Sweat forms on your forehead, as you slowly force the stream to run upwards, towards your hip, and around your back. Your fingers flex into intricate positions, a thin line of your own blood reaches your wrist.

You have never tried this trick with your magic, all your life dedicating your gift to the art of healing. Dealing with the blood of other people, stopping, pushing, extracting, those were the things you were good at. Solidifying your own plasma, so it can cut through metal cuffs, was an entirely different topic.

But you have to escape. You have to. There's no telling what will happen to you, should you remain in this prison. Surrounded by gold and jewels, like some sort of perverted spoil of war. You valued yourself too much, to allow that. And, most importantly, your friends needed help. The intel you've gathered while being stuck in this wretched place wasn't much, but it was something, which in turn was enough to keep fighting.

Breathing becomes a hassle. You've already exerted far too much of your power, trying to extract from your bleeding thigh, and your hands shake behind your back, as you visualize particles sticking together, forming something solid, something that would free you of this prison. The liquid curling around your wrist shifts, an outer layer forming around it. All you've managed to achieve, is a sort of coagulated jelly, sticking to your skin.

"Your dedication to freedom in commandable." a familiar, male voice surrounds you, and you whip around, chain jingling at the sudden movement.

There he stands, in all his glory. Your captor.

Shang Tsung stalks towards you, his hands clasped behind his back as he leans down, hair flowing past his shoulders and obscuring the two of you from the world in a thick, black curtain. He smells rich. Sandalwood and jasmine, mixed with a nauseating undertone of blood and rot, no doubt, a leftover from his laboratory. It forces you to reel your head back, to try and escape it, but your efforts are quickly destroyed, as the sorcerer closes in further.

"Your skill, however…" his dark eyes fly around your face, taking in your distressed expression with a cruel smile "Well, let's just say there's some room for improvement."

Your eyebrows crease, as he flashes you a grin, before straightening up to his full height, allowing you a moment of relief from his overpowering presence. The bloody clot you've managed to form around your wrist falls to the floor as soon as you lose focus, and silently, you mourn the feeling of blood sinking between golden coins, never to be recovered again. You couldn't even if you tried, not with the Outworld's Snake right in front of you, circling your body like a hawk ready to strike.

Suddenly, he crouches down, right beside your abused leg, your breath catching in your lungs at the sudden change. The way he moved never seized to amaze you, as much as you hated to admit it. There was grace burned into his very being, every step a slithery dance. It terrified you, rightfully so, but underneath something new was brewing. A feeling, which you could easily dismiss during the rush of fighting, was no longer satisfied with staying dormant.

There was a strange pull between the two of you, like two magnets on the opposite sides of a table. Whenever your eyes met with the Sorcerer, you could feel something buried inside your soul start to wake. It felt so foreign, yet so very familiar at the same time, like a ghost of some ancient prophecy clawing at your mind.

Once you free yourself from this hellish predicament, you'll ask Liu Kang what is going on with you. He has to know, or at least, suspect something, and you knew very well, feelings like those could not be ignored. Too much was at stake, to keep secrets out of some misguided shame. That is, if you even make it out of here, because the man beside you suddenly pushes his robe outwards, producing a small box with a practiced flare, like a magician during one of his shows.

"Do not fret, Mortal" you're not sure if the "pet" name is a thinly veiled insult, or if it's just the way the Sorcerer speaks "This is simply something to heal your leg."

Now, your confusion must be palpable, because Shang Tsung's smile widens, as he takes in your face. Then, he laughs quietly to himself, barely above a whisper, and the hairs at the back of your neck stand straight at the sound.

"I don't want anything from you" it's a pathetic effort at staying defiant, and both of you know it.

Instead of entertaining your little outburst, the Sorcerer grabs your leg with his free hand. Immediately, you start to struggle, despite the sharp pain overtaking your senses, as his grip on you tightens. Then, you let out a sharp squeak, when the man's golden claws tear into the fabric of your pants just above the wound, and dangerously close to the apex of your thighs.

The wound looks back at you, swollen and bloody, and you swallow thickly, as blood flows from your face. You could treat it, successfully as well, if only your hands weren't currently bound behind your back, with very limited moving space. Shang Tsung opens the box with delicate fingers. There is some sort of salve packed inside, a rather large indent right in the middle proving it's been used quite extensively.

His hold on you becomes less of a grip, bordering almost on a soft caress, which brings an entire wave of concerning feelings to the surface of your mind. If he notices the way your cheeks flush, he says nothing, opting instead on dipping his fingers into the salve.

"This might hurt" he warns you, although there is not a single note of concern in his voice.

"What is that? Another Tarkat experiment?" you try to mask the shaking in your voice, as the thought of being experimented on genuinely frightens you.

Your leg twitches under his fingers, and he digs in deeper, turning to face you with an unexpected, serious expression. Again, you feel short of breath, as his dark eyes bear into yours with intensity you haven't yet experienced.

"I would never..." he cuts himself off.

The word, or rather, the tone in which he says it seems to startle you both. His eyebrows furrow in an expression of annoyance, or worry, you're not entirely sure, and he turns back towards your wound, his black hair shielding his face from your gaze. Was that repulsion, hidden within his voice? Your chest suddenly feels much too tight. Was the merciless Sorcerer disgusted by the prospect of conducting his inhumane experiments on you? You weren't sure if the sentiment warmed your heart… Or terrified you to the very core of your being.

Still, all your thoughts leave your brain, as soon as Shang Tsung places his fingers on your wound. At first, a cold feeling overtakes you, pain letting go for just a split second. Then, fire. White, hot, burning ache, seeping into your wound. It feels as if it reaches your bone marrow, and with a silent scream you fall on your back, writhing on the floor. Golden coins fly from under your feet, as you kick around, the golden chain tying your hands together strains, as you pull on it with all your might. Slowly, the pain fades, some sort of tight sensation pulling at the skin of your thigh.

And one more thing.

As you come down from the initial shock of the painful treatment, your brain registers something warm and firm, rubbing circles into your flesh. It takes you another while longer to realize it's Shang Tsung's hand, resting right above the wound, claws tapping on the inside of your leg. He watches you, as your breathing starts to slow, eyes following drops of sweat falling from your forehead and mingling with tears. Your lips parted, your eyelids flutter, and you let out a long sigh, finally being able to look down on your leg.

Where the wound once was, now, a long, pink scar shines in the light of the torches strung around the chamber. Shang Tsung closes the box, before hiding it amongst the many layers of his outfit. You half expect him to stand up and leave, but your hopes are squashed once again, as the man kneels down next to you, turning his attention towards your heaving chest.

His hand comes up, towards your face, claws shining gold. You wince and close your eyes, despite your best efforts to appear strong, but the pain you've anticipated doesn't come. Instead, you feel something sharp drag itself across your forehead. You risk cracking an eye at him, face scrunching, before relaxing into an expression of utter confusion.

There he was, your captor, tormentor, your enemy, brushing flyaway hairs from your sweaty forehead. Your eyes meet, and again, feelings swirl inside your gut, some you're too scared to decipher, and some need no explanation. His lips curl into something akin to a smirk, yet his eyes remain focused on you entirely, thoughts swimming behind his irises. Then, as if some magic spell has been broken, you can see him shift into his true self, the same scheming energy overflowing him, as if a new, frightful idea has formed inside his mind.

Once again, he reaches into the pockets of his robe, this time producing a deliciously red apple. Its skin is shiny, the potent smell makes your mouth water, and suddenly you remember you haven't eaten in Gods know how many hours. With a dark chuckle, the man turns the apple, from side to side, as if he wants you to take full stock of just how sinful it looks. Then, with a simple gesture, he tips it towards your lips. Your eyes snap up at him.

"I can't eat it with my hands tied" your voice sounds rough from all the pain you've experienced before.

"Nonsense, I shall feed you" he answers, as if this was the most obvious way out of your predicament, and the heat of embarrassment mixes with anger in your gut.

"You want me to eat out of your hand like some damned pet?"

Now, he laughs, fully. His eyes crinkle at the sides, as he inclines his head towards you.

"I know full-well you're too dangerous to let roam freely" your eyes flicker towards the apple, "And after all you've been through, aren't you hungry, Mortal?"

Your teeth grind against each other, as you weight your options. Shang Tsung moves the apple again in a tantalizing manner, and your resolve crumbles. Your eyes lock onto his, giving him the best performance of defiance you could muster, and slowly, you open your mouth.

"Good girl" he croons, and for a split second you ponder, if spitting at the man was worth the consequences.

He brings the apple closer, lets it rest on your bottom lip, before giving you a patronizingly inviting smile. Swallowing your pride, your teeth sink into the fruit, and you can't stop the absolutely shameful moan from slipping out of you, as the sweetness of the apple hits your tongue. Damned be precautions, damned be your dignity, you were hungry, and that apple was delicious. So you take a bite so large, it almost reaches the stem, letting some juice flow down your chin.

Shang Tsung watches you eat with a laser focus one might imagine he reserves for his experiments, teeth catching his bottom lip.

Another bite, this one silent on your part. His eyes follow the column of your throat, when you swallow. One more, and you give him a show of looking up at his darkened expression when your teeth all but tear away from the fruit.

Your hands are shaking behind your back, a coil is forming deep within you, and you press your legs tight together, to shield the rest of your dwindling dignity from completely being torn away. He notices. Of course, he does, as your actions seem to have a similar effect on him, if his bitten lips and heavy breaths are anything to go by.

"Why go through all this trouble, Sorcerer?" you ask, licking your lips from the remnants of your meal.

His eyes follow your tongue, before looking back right into your eyes. The rest of the apple is thrown somewhere amongst the golden piles of treasure, forgotten entirely. Time seems to slow down, air becomes thick between the two of you, surrounding you like a vat of tar. The pull you've been feeling since meeting this infamous monster becomes almost too strong to ignore.

Shang Tsung raises his hand, grabbing your chin and pushing it upwards. There is a myriad of emotions running rampant on his face, until it finally settles on something so dark and wanting, your stomach tightens at the mere sight. His lips come down upon yours in an avalanche, slipping towards your chin, where he provocatively licks at your skin, tasting the apple's juices and humming to himself.

Your voice comes out as a small whimper, entire body reacting to his kiss, as you fight between pushing him away and pulling him much closer. He decides for you, coming back to claim your lips again, as his hands start to travel up the sides of your stomach, gathering your shirt in the process.

His clawed gauntlets scratch at your skin, not enough to actually hurt you, but enough to elicit a wave of shudders from your body. Finally, he pulls away, considering your swollen lips and disheveled hair as one would their newest painting. Pride and mischief mix well in his black irises, and he licks his lips slowly, making you blush impossibly red.

"You look quite beautiful, like this" he croons, tangling his free hand in the hair at the back of your neck, "So pliant under my fingers."

For a moment, all you can do is stare at him, poised above you with his usual smirk gracing his features. Then a thought materializes in your head, a chance at finding an escape route, if you could play your cards right.

"Untie me" you moan wantonly, arching your neck, as if to give him better access.

He launches at your exposed pulse point immediately, licking a long stripe up, before giving your skin a few delicious nips, ones that make you almost forget your half-formed plan. Almost. Gathering all your resolve, you writhe against him. His clothes are hiding a lean, but well-muscled body, and you wish so hard, you could run your hands down his chest.

"Untie me, please" you don't recognize your voice, so broken and needy.

The Snake stops his ministrations, tugging at your hair, before sliding his hand towards your shoulders, where he grabs you and pulls you even closer, so your body is leaning almost completely on his lap. His other hand makes quick work of the zipper on your trousers and worms itself into your underwear. A wave of humilation hits you, as your pink, polka-dotted panties look at you from between the fly.

"I can't risk you getting away" he whispers in your ear and takes a long whiff of your hair, humming in pleasure, "My Benefactor has made it clear, you are crucial to their plan."

That startles you. Or it would, if the Sorcerer hadn't began to delicately rub his fingers over your lower lips, just shy of entering you. It's torture, a new brand of cruel experiment, you think, as you buck your hips against him, trying to get some sort of pressure

"I would've thought you wanted me for yourself" you pant between heated kisses you're leaving on the exposed skin of is neck, "It certainly - oh - seems so."

The hand which is currently not occupied sneaks around your middle, before grabbing a handful of your right breasts.

"Would you like that?" he asks into the crown of your head, his fingers finally dipping into your opening.

It takes you several tries to form an answer in your brain, and another few to vocalize it. His thumb makes quick work of finding your bundle of nerves, and instantly starts to abuse that newly-found knowledge. You bite your lip, hard, to stop any sounds from escaping you, but the Sorcerer wouldn't have it. His mouth finds yours, and he swallows your moans of pleasure with an approving hum reverberating through his chest,

"Would you like to be kept by me? Be mine and mine alone" his lips brush against yours as he talks, and you tug mercilessly on your binds, wanting to hold onto something, anything. Him.

"I-" you can't quite finish your sentence, because the hand that's been, for the most part, playing with your breast like it's a stress ball, begins to travel further down, until it rests on the lower part of your stomach. "No."

It comes out as choked and desperate, as his fingers curl upwards inside you, hitting a spot that nearly makes you fly off the ground. He laughs, right in your ear.

"No?"

"No" you swallow, "I'm- oh fuck... I'm too good for you."

Another deliberate motion of his fingers and your toes start to curl. He might be the key to undoing the entire universe, but hell, he does know how to use his fingers. Long and elegant fingers, trained by years spent on studying ad practicing spells, made dexterous by whatever horrors he has committed in his laboratories. Fingers, which are currently pumping in and out of you with a pace set specifically to drive you insane.

"Yes" he hisses through his teeth, pressing his nose to the crown of your head, "You are too good for me, aren't you? That's why you're here, taking my fingers like you were meant for it."

Gods, his voice really isn't helping you focus. By the feeling of something hard and rather large poking you in your thigh, you guess you're not the only one getting off on the sound of his voice. A coil starts to tighten deep within you, growing tighter with every movement of his fingers, every word coming out of his filthy mouth

"Even the Fire God couldn't keep you away from me" his thumb presses down onto your clit and begins to rub it in quick circles, "He was so scared to let you go into my lair, wasn't he?"

You nod absentmindedly, thrashing in the Sorcerer's lap, as a strong shiver of pleasure wrecks your body. Experimentally, you move your backside, rubbing against his growing erection, and the man hisses into your ear, his movements faltering for a split-second.

"He was right" Shang Tsung seethes the words into your skin, before coming down to bite on your shoulder, "We will be each other's undoing."

His palm presses flat on your lower stomach, as his efforts inside your pants increase tenfold. The coil is so close to breaking, you can feel tears start to form in the corners of your eyes.

"Ladies first, sweet thing" he hums, pressing your writhing body even closer to himself, "Come undone for me."

And you do, as if compelled by some ancient magic. Your face buries itself into his robes, teeth catching on the skin of the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. And you bite, hard enough to break his skin, taste his blood on your tongue. The coil shatters, and so does your grip on the world. You let out a muffled wail, the Sorcerer pulling you even closer, engulfing you entirely in his presence, his smell. Your legs are shaking, as Shang Tsung lets you ride out your orgasm on his nimble fingers, and soon, your body becomes boneless.

He doesn't let you go for a while longer, still pressed to your body, swaying with you in some sort of perversion of intimacy. Or perhaps, as much as the thought terrifies you, there is some link building between the two of you. Something more than lust and curiosity. Then, his hand leaves your pants, coming up out of your field of vision. You catch a glimpse of his soaked fingers, and your imagination fills in, what might be happening just above your head, as an obscenely wet sound of sucking reaches your ears.

Then, like the gentleman he is, he helps you button your pants back up, straightens your shirt and ties your hair more neatly. You want to kiss him again. There is another need brewing inside you, as you watch him stand up and dust his clothes, which are now stained with gold dust in places.

Is it wrong to want more?

You want to reach up, brush your fingers through his hair, kiss him until he can't speak clearly. You wants to feel his breath quicken again, feel his pulse run wild. You want to drain his blood and feed on his power until there's nothing left.That last thought freezes you in your spot, cold shivers climbing up your body like a dead hand gripping you from beneath the earth.

Too dark, too power-hungry, and you were none of those things. You never will be.

"Beautiful" he murmurs again, watching you from above, but this moment of sentiment is cut shortly, as his head snaps towards the entrance to the chamber, expression souring instantly

Your eyes follow his, but there's nothing you can see in the darkness. A chill runs up your spine.

"Get ready, Mortal" oh, so we're back to thinly veiled insults, "My Benefactor will want to meet you soon."

With that, he turns to leave, not sparing you a second glance, and you're back to being alone. Used and left between the piles upon piles of gold surrounding you, like your part of this chamber. A pretty thing, stained gold, made to exist only when it's owner is looking at it.

You need to get out of here, before you lose your mind.

#my writing #shang tsung #shang tsung x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #i love shang in every version but i really like the way they carried his character in this game #there's more nuance to him now #at least that's what i think mk stans don't stab me

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nyctophiliq · 10 months

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✮ ┆ THE IDEAL ART INSIDE YOU. ellie w. (the last of us)

— “at one point, everyone hated themselves.”

description. everyone experiences art block once in a while, ellie just deals with it differently

content warnings. MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, art student! ellie, light bondage, ellie is a little rough, light bondage, she also fucks reader with a sharpie, oh and she draws with said sharpie on reader, so basically marking?, possessive & control freak! ellie, wc 1,67k author’s notes. you read the warnings? still here? hope you enjoy, you freak >:) pls reblogs are very very much appriciated

ellie who’s fountain of inspiration seemed to never dry up whenever she looked at you, or just thought about a glimpse of you. but as every artist, ellie too hits a rock bottom every once in a while and she just suffers from her art because she hasn’t yet figured out a way to suffer through it.

“my favorite piece of art that I don’t keep fucking up.“ she groans as her left hand comes to catch your throat, fingers clasping around your neck not at all lovingly but ferociously, her other hand palming your forehead while also managing to force your eyes open with her thumb and index finger. even if you wanted to fight back, there was no use for it. one of her wet cloths, the one that is covered in paint because she wipes her face and hands with it after a session in front of her paper is now wrapped around your wrist, tying them behind your back as she forces your legs apart with her knees, spreading them apart to reveal all of that is you, eyes spitefully wandering your nude body.

oh, how she hated you in these moments, when her art seemed to be nothing just a piece of painting that a child did with its fingers, spreading condiments around its plate and you were the mom who couldn’t help but praise her child, clip that god awful ‘painting’ on the fridge and call it a ‘future picasso’. it’s a disgrace to all the incredible painters before her, the ones who have sweat blood for their art not to be called a silly thing, be frowned upon, and to be taken seriously because sometimes words just weren’t enough. you seemed so perfect, your eyes, your lips, your face, your chest, your stomach, your legs, your everything- how could she ever create art as beautiful and magnificent as you?

she couldn’t let that situation to eat her alive, to consume her from the inside out, for it to own her because in the end it was her who owned it, owned you. the aspect, all the things she had admired, and she called you her muse- she made you who you are today just like god made angels to be so perfect, she is the god who birthed you, casted you in stone and made the land worship you as it’s protector.

“you’re mine, you hear me?” she yells, her spit spurting on your face and she pushes your head further into the mattress, her fingers pushing so hard on your skull she might just claw your eyes out. “I created all that you’re, sculpted you to be so ideal.” she rambles, shifting further between your legs, prying them open with so much force your hip start to burn and little sobs ball up in your throat from the discomfort.

ellie gives you a repulsed look as your lips agape, choking on your words, writhing from the same anguishing feeling of not knowing what to do. it truly turns her stomach, your uncertainty as you lie there, your eyes bulging from fear of what is gonna happen next. but your pupils tell a different story to her, that the way parts of your body is reacting goes against each other, and where your legs meet with your hips- it’s almost impossible to overlook the heat that is radiating.

“i own all the rights to you, everything that they see is my talent sacrificed.” she follows up, letting go of your head and reaching into the back pocket of her khaki shorts, and pulls a sharpie out. there isn’t a second that passed between her pulling it out and biting the cap off before she starts scribbling away on the skin that covers the middle of your chest.

the brush of the pen tickles your nerves, jolts running up and down your spine like a horde of wildlife fleeing after a gun shot, your back arching with each stroke she makes. your skin like paper trembling under her touch, but she is too busy to notice. your eyes roll to the back of your head, closing as you relish in the sensation. the ink staining your skin, her touch softening around your neck, the pads of her fingers ghosting over it, a small smile gracing her lips as she moves from your sternum to the top of your breast.

your mouth falls open at her touch, your hips swaying slightly against her knees as she continues to work. her voice hoarse as she speaks, “this will be mine, my masterpiece,” she says, swallowing hard. “mine…” she mumbles, her voice trailing off. she works in silence for what seems like hours, the only noise being your labored breathing and a soft scratching sound from her pen. your eyelids flutter slowly, the darkness encroaching on your until all you can see are stars floating through the room. you are falling into nothing, nothingness.

she switched sides sometimes ago, but you hardly noticed until she pulls away from both your chest and neck, your eyes snapping open as her hand comes to rest on your waist. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her body tensing slightly. “yes…” she whispers, before biting her lips, pushing her tongue against the teeth that is peaking above. your gaze follows hers until you find yourself staring right into her eyes, their irises so dark they look black.

“mine… I own this body, I own this life… this was always supposed to happen.” she laughs then, dark, and wicked, her words dripping with confidence as she runs her finger along whatever she wrote or drawn on you. “you should see… you should see but where should i-“ she cuts herself off, a puzzled look washing across her features as she tries to find the handheld mirror, simultaneously searching for a place to put the sharpie because she is gonna need it again, she just needs you to see her signature first.

she laughs as she thinks of it, deep and rumbling before she teases your folds with the handle part of the sharpie, collecting all that have been dripping from you the minute your bare skin was exposed to the cool room’s air. you let out a gasp as it slides inside you, a gasp that becomes a whine as she keeps going. you feel tears gather in your eyes as she just leaves it there, unattended and stuck in one place.

“here! see for yourself, see it! tell me what do you think?” manic, that’s how she sounds now, absolutely out of her mind as the sweat starts to glow on her face. she grips the handheld mirror, her hard grip visible as she holds it up above you, giving you the perfect look at yourself.

her signature, all over your chest. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams.

ellie’s face contorts with frustration at your silence, “do i need to coax an answer out of you? come on, give me an answer!” she grits her teeth, her other hand coming to take a hold of the sharpie in you. she moves it back and forth, painfully slow until you manage an answer out, your voice sounding so small you almost believe you imagined it.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” you laugh weakly when you feel her speed up at your words, her face getting redder and redder. she chuckles softly before she brings the mirror closer to you, angling it so you get a better view of your nakedness and the way your cunt practically sucks the sharpie in.

she looks at you as if you are a prize, as if the mirror has finally captured the image that she desired for so long. ‘I won’, her expression proclaims proudly, her grin wide as the room fills with the sounds of the drenched pen fucking your walls. you wince at some spots, a little more sensitive, but her gaze remains steady on yours, never breaking contact. you try to speak, to say something ,anything, but your throat feels tight, your breath short as she discards the mirror, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing circles on the fleshy parts between your thighs.

you whimper quietly, a moan building up in your throat. you could cry if you wanted to, a hot flood threatening to erupt from your body, begging to be released. you bite your lips, your legs tremble, your nails digging into the bedsheets under you as your vision goes blurry. you blink furiously, trying to refocus. she moves to your clit, circling it with her thumb as your entire body tenses. the slick wetness coats her fingertips as she gives you the few last pushes you need to end up on the other side, for the bliss of your climax whiten your vision and everything that she is.

ellie watches you, excitedly, with a fire burning in her eyes that has never burned before. she looks sick, she feels sick, but in the best way possible as you writhe against her hand, trying to get away from the sharpie that is still residing between your clamping walls. she can see the bigger picture now, the light burning on your skin and the dark in that covers your torso, the overwhelming feeling of coming undone, and her ownership over everything that had occurred. she smiles to herself, proud of her accomplishment, but also anxious to finally begin her next piece.

“just one final detail…” it came quietly, murmured from between her lips as she pulls the sharpie from your, flipping in while her free hand comes to push down on your hip bone. you don’t need to guess, you already know what she’s gonna write, it’s predictable from the expression of her face. twisted grin, with flushed cheeks that are not at all red from embarrassment but rather overcome with pure pride, joy, and glee.

ellie williams was in here.

#📗 — written by moss !#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #tlou ellie x reader #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #tlou ellie #tlou x reader #tlou x reader smut #tlou ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie williams x reader smut #tlou ellie x reader smut #ellie williams x you #tlou ellie williams #ellie williams x fem reader smut #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x female reader

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georgiapeach30513 · 4 months

Text

Your Mark On Me, Part 11

Summary: can Steve be honest with himself, with you, and with his best friend?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, mentions of markings, mentions of biting, bruises, unprotected sex, PIV sex, degradation, manhandling, creampie, cockwarming in public, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.9K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

*tattoo edit by @randomagnes0210

Steve smiles as he looks over your sleeping body. A warm comfort fills his entire insides up. You look more beautiful now, in this state of sprawled out mess than he has ever seen you. Perfect. No one could ever compare to you. And seeing you like this he takes the time to think about all that had happened between the two of you. Of how he’s never spent the time on anyone that he has on you. You’ve surpassed his every fantasy he’s had.

Picking up his phone, he scrolls through his messages. Having to scroll down further than he ever has for this contact before clicking it. His hand hovers over the keyboard a moment. Fingers tapping over the glass, before he erases everything he had just typed. He didn’t know what to say.

Laying his phone down he stares at you. Chuckling to himself because even asleep, you knew what you were doing. Turned on your side, and giving him the sweetest sneaky peek of your cunt. Your lips swollen and puffy from the pounding he had been giving you. Glistening in the early morning light, and ready to take him again. You really are his little slut.

Bruises and marks splattered over various parts of your skin. If you didn’t show that you did in fact like it, he would hate himself. He’s amazed at himself for how many different places his mouth had left their mark on your body. Reddened bruises and even teeth marks. Having to bit you for the amount of pleasure that overwhelmed his body.

He wants to hate himself for causing you any bit of pain or discomfort, and then you sigh in your sleep. Your body stretches out even more, and pushes the blankets down your body. You are a work of art. That little grin that pulls up your mouth. You’re, for now, satiated. You had proven to be just as much of a fend as him.

If you were awake, you were filled with him. So now he sits quietly, and hopes you can actually rest. You hadn’t gotten used to his size. And he coos at you with every wince when he stretches you open. It’s adorable, and he can tell you hate how he goes a bit softer as he’s entering you. Steve is a bit of a contradictory roller coaster, but especially during sex.

Steve hears a little tap on his bedroom door, and he pulls the covers back over you. He got the alert that Sam was driving up here, so it wasn’t a surprise. “Come in,” Steve whispers, and presses his hand on your bum when you stir. He wants you to sleep for a few hours this time. No more naps.

Sam waits in the doorway, watching the two of you. Noting how Steve can’t turn away. He rolls his eyes as he leans against the doorframe, “You get it now?”

“Get what?”

Steve still never stops to look at Sam. In the few days you have been holed up in the cabin, Sam sees a real change in Steve. There isn’t that hardness that’s usually present. “You finally understand caring for someone more than yourself,” Steve looks up at his friend, and responds by nodding his head.

”Dove looks exhausted.”

”I didn’t do anything she didn’t want me to. She is worse than me,” you weren’t quite there. But it wouldn’t take much. You were experimental with sex. Willing to try whatever Steve wanted to.

”I’m doubtful of that,” Steve huffs out a laugh, and turns to look back at you. You are too soft for him, and yet there’s this devil that lurks under your top layer of sweetness. “You need to call Bucky.”

”Why?”

“Because, you get why he was angry. Why he needed to leave. Why he knew you needed to protect Dove. Bucky knew before you did that you had found your person, and he didn’t want you to scare her away. And then you insulted his fiance,” feeling a bit of shame makes Steve unable to look up at Sam. But his eyes flick towards his phone. he’s tried a few times to text Bucky since you two hadn’t left this cabin. Barely even ate.

“Imagine someone calling Dove a basket case,” his heart feels like someone is squeezing it, and he has to watch you sleep to center himself. “Bucky and Shy deserve your respect. The things Bucky has done for Dove were for you. Call him. I think Shy would do Dove some good. Maybe she can soften your darkened Dove. I can’t believe she was this sweet little innocent girl. And now…”

“Sam, I’m going to marry her, and make her the mother of my children.”

“Then call Bucky. My wife sent me with a basket of food. Feed her.”

Steve didn’t have to tell Sam that he had been thinking of calling, well texting, Bucky. Sam had this ability to just know. It’s why he completed their friendship. He is the steady one. The one that helps keep them in line. And the one that isn’t afraid to call either of them out. And if he was letting it be known that Steve needed to talk to Bucky it was time.

But first, he was going to enjoy you again. But going back into the real world was looming ever closer. He couldn’t keep you here, even if he wanted to. Make you just take him whenever he feels like it. Work had to be done. He had an empire. And he needed his other part to join back in with the business.

”Mmm,” you whine, looking over your shoulder at him. “Captain, why isn’t your cock deep in my cunt, and fucking me awake?”

“And why is my pretty little bird saying fuck when I’m not inside her?”

“What is my captain going to do about it?” He gives you an evil grin, before ripping your legs apart. Positioning you more on your knees, lifting you up to get the perfect angle. He spits into his hand, and you mewl. Turning your head back to look at him as his thick hand runs through your folds.

“You’re drenched.”

“Because I need you to fuck me,” he draws his hand back, and quickly slaps over your bare center. “Fucking destroy me. Just…mmm,” moaning when he gets to his knees and his monstrous cock springs up to life. Dripping in precum as he presses hard in between your shoulder blades, and pushing you into the mattress. “You gonna fuck me, Captain.”

“Nope,” he chuckles as he lines himself up, he roams his silky steel rod between your lips. Coating Clarence in your juices, while you whimper into the sheets. “I’m going to murder your pussy,” he says, and with the next breath his hips push him through your sensitive cunt.

It stings, and you’re tender, but the fact you can hear Steve groan in pleasure behind you sets your soul soaring. His hands grope hard over your hips as he pistons deep inside of you. Becoming one with him again, and you start to sink into the bed with his force.

Stabbing into you with no remorse, until you’re flat on the bed, and still he jams himself deeper. “Is that what it takes to keep my little bird happy? Dovey, you need me to treat you like my little slut that bad?”

“Uh huh. Mmm,” your knuckles change color with how tight you cling to the sheets, and still you want more. Would be completely satisfied with Steve's entire weight pushing himself into you. The pleasure is just too much as you feel your body go into a different place. This was heaven. And Steve reminded you of this beautiful place multiple times a day.

He wants himself to be your religion. Needs you to desire nothing more than him. Like all you needed to survive was Steve Rogers. Your body acts on its own accord, and keeps your ass pointed up, so he can get extra deep. Could feel him all the way in your throat as he rearranges your insides. Accommodating him in a way no one ever has. Letting him use you as his little sex doll.

Manhandling you into whatever position he wanted. You couldn’t make up your mind on what feels the best because you just need him inside of you. Need to feel the way his piercing drags onto your skin as he pulls himself out, and then stabs right back into you. You were no longer human. Or yourself. You are just his.

“Steve!” You scream, muttering out gibberish. Speaking in tongues as you soar high with pleasured pain.

”You’re so fucking dumb for my cock, aren’t ya, Dovey? Sweet little Dove getting herself turned inside out for Steve Rogers’ cock. And she looks so pretty taking every bit of me. Doesn’t matter that it hurts a bit. We make it fit, huh?”

“Yeah. Yes! Steve, I’m coming. I’m coming!”

“My god, yes, you are. Got me in a fucking vice grip. Fuck, Dovey. You feel how deep I am?” You feel me flowing through your veins?” He reset everything in your body. You were the worst addict. You need a hit of him constantly. You would let this man treat you like a fucking rag doll, thanking him, and begging him to do it again.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck! So fucking tight. So fucking warm. Dovey, you got me coated in your pretty cum. Are you ready to feel me? Ready for me to paint the insides of you?”

“Please, Captain. Want you inside of me all day.”

”You fucking whore. You sweet fucking slut of mine! Ahh!” He screams as his load shoots into your belly. Your brows raise in satisfaction as your walls milk every bit of his warmth. Swallowing his essence to keep inside of you for the times he couldn’t be. “You like that, baby?”

“It feels so good,” you sigh. Ready to cry as he starts to pull out of you. “But I hate when you do that.”

”I know, sweet Dovey,” leaning forward he leaves the sweetest kisses down your slit. Finishing on your clit, before righting himself, and staring at his handy work. “I love seeing you wide open because of me. Your cunt swollen, and would you look at that. Mmmm,” he moans as his cum starts to seep out. “Never miss a drop, hmm? You my sweet cum slut?”

”I’m whatever you want me to be.”

”And I want you filled, and leaking of my cum today. We got to go into the real world.”

”But Steve,” you start to protest, but he pushes three fingers into your gaping hole. Stopping all your thoughts because he just feels that damn good.

”You are only quiet when you’re stuffed. Shh, I’m talking, you listen. As much as I would love to fuck you like the little slut you are, we have to be adults. We have a life. I have a business. We can’t…Dove, you’ve got that look on your face. What do you want?”

“Can…no one has to know, but can I keep you warm today? We both get what we want,” he promised to make you sit and take him while he conducted business. And now you want to collect on that promise. You didn’t know who knew that you were full of Steve. It was your silent way of claiming him for everyone to see. He belonged to you.

”You’re killing me.”

”And I feel empty. You don’t want me to feel empty, do you? Steve? Captain? Please, can I keep your cock warm? I’ll sleep,” honestly, sleeping with him inside of you sounded peaceful. You knew that you could rest as long as he was there.

You are a menace to him. You broke down most of his walls, and made him want to do nothing more but to spoil you and give you whatever you want. “You better actually sleep,” just your smile, and the wiggle of your ass is enough for him to know that he made the right decision. You are his, and everyone needs to understand that they will respect you. Only he can degrade you. And he will. Later.

He never tires of watching you. Even now with his cock nestled inside of you, and your eyes gently closed, a soft snore of exhaustion hums off your lips, you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He doesn’t care when everyone walks into the meeting room to see you sitting atop his lap, with your legs lazily dangling beside him.

Sure they could know that he is stretching you out. They can see you snuggled up against his disgusting burn mark. Able to watch your lips pucker out and kiss his mark. Your little sleepy sigh is the loudest noise in the otherwise silent meeting room.

This room is supposed to be his safe space. Everyone here should respect not only you, but will be willing to protect you at all cost. It’s an understood thing. Nobody here should take stock of how even when Steve speaks, his voice is softer. Whispering so he doesn’t wake you.

While everyone is listening to Steve, Sam’s eyes roam around the room. He can multitask. He isn’t quite as trusting as Steve. He thinks showing Steve’s weakness and vulnerability is a risky move. Sam doesn’t care that you’re here. It’s the intimacy of your position, and how he is just letting you be.

Steve has fucked many a woman in front of people. Humiliated them, and treated them as nothing more than a way to get his dick wet. But this is care. Steve couldn’t say the word, but it was love. Pulling down your skirt so no one could see any part of your exposed skin.

And then without thinking Steve kisses your cheek. Giving a nod to everyone at the table, and letting them know what their territories are. Sending them on their way, while Sam taps a finger on the table.

“What, Samuel?”

“You’re getting sloppy in love, Steven,” his blue eyes turn up to look at Sam, shaking his head. “Your vulnerability is putting the biggest target on her.”

”I’ll kill anyone that tries to hurt her.”

”Some people don’t just try. Some will do anything to destroy you, and you’ve allowed everyone to see what will kill you. Losing her.”

”Ready a car,” Steve says as he looks up at Sam. “I’m going to take her to see Bucky and Shy,” he looks back at you when you giggle. Swishing your body around when you peek to look at him. “You rotten brat.”

”I like Bucky, Captain,” trying to move again, he holds tightly to your hips, holding you steady.

Sam nods his head, and goes to make sure a car is ready for the two of you. “Thank you, Steve,” you whisper as your hands smooth up his chest.

”For what, Dovey? What could you possibly have to thank me for?”

“For letting me go see Bucky. But I’m not the only one that misses him, am I?” Steve rarely admits when he’s wrong. This time he does, but just barely he gives a single nod. “I knew it. You need him. He’s a part of you. Just like me, huh?”

“You are definitely a part of me, my sweet Dove. You mean more to me than you’ll ever realize. And yes, just like Bucky and Sam.”

”Then it’s time for you to accept that they have a special someone. Just. Like. You,” you’re so rotten with your little grin. Tapping on his chest to emphasize every word.

”Yes, darling. You are so smart when it comes to my feelings. I’ll let you handle those from now on,” with a sweet laugh, you lean up to give him a chaste kiss. Getting a bit of a growl from him. “Dovey, you have been keeping me warm for awhile, and to finally feel some friction is making me want to fuck you so hard on this table.”

”Do it then,” rolling his eyes he stands up, letting you drop onto the table with a bit more force than you were expecting, and he pulls himself out of the depths of your body. Hands behind your knees, he lifts your legs, pinning them on the table.

Cocking up an eyebrow, he lets a string of saliva drip down to your entrance, “You really are a slutty brat, did you know?”

“Maybe you need to make me behave. Cap—tain,” you screech as he enters back into you. Slamming your hands above your head, he sets a feral pace. They two of you needy for this. An hour of feeling him was a slight torture, and now he needs you in an animalistic way.

“Dove, I…” he growls, shaking his head. “I fucking love feeling you.”

”And I love feeling you,” he’s such an ass sometimes. Let him have his fun shoving himself into you balls deep. Let him hear the squelching sounds echoing in the room, and the table legs scratching across the floor with every thrust.

“Steve, it’s enough for now,” tears of pleasure fill your eyes as you stare up at him. You’d break him. He is getting there, even if it is slowly. You could feel it from him. And it was enough for now.

Leaning forward he captures your lips with his own. You love feeling his weight on you. Able to feel every bit of him on every inch of your body. He truly is the perfect fit. The two of you soak each other up. Never even pulling apart when euphoria spreads through both of your bodies. Sharing your pleasure as he spurts his cum into you.

Kisses continue, and you’re too wrapped up in each other to notice cold blue eyes stare at the two of you. Steve truly is a fool.

“Stop fidgeting,” Steve says softly, while your eyes stare at the ever passing trees. You couldn’t stop. It had been so long since you saw Bucky. And the last time Steve did, it wasn’t under the best circumstances. “Dove. Dovey! Little bird,” he coos over to you.

You finally look at him, your eyes shining with confusion. “Tell me what’s wrong,” this isn’t a question. It is a command, and you feel overly compelled to tell him everything. All that you have been thinking about during this drive.

“What if she doesn’t like me? What if she hates me? What if Bucky doesn’t want to see me? What if…?”

“What if you just breathe, sweetheart? Bucky likes you, and I don’t think that will change. From my understanding his Shy girl is a bit backwards. She observes more than she reacts. So she might not say much. And if she does, that is just her opinion. What about mine? And I love…spending time with you,” you narrow your eyes at him, and look back out the front windshield. He could be so infuriating at times. You’re hoping that he would just make a mistake, and say it. It seems to be right on the tip of his tongue.

“I want her to like me though. Because Bucky loves her. Even asked her to marry him. Isn’t that something?”

“Yes, so romantic to finally propose after years of being together.”

“Don’t put a timeline on people’s relationship, Steve.”

“Then don’t put one on ours,” his hand moves to your thigh. Giving your soft skin a bit of a squeeze. “Just live in the moment, honey. Ahh, there’s their home.”

“Is it a necessary thing to have your homes be out in the middle of nowhere?” You bite at your lip, looking up at their home. It was bigger than you had expected. Much too big for two people. Even bigger than Steve’s cabin which was nothing to scoff at.

“Shy doesn’t like people. She’s a bit of a recluse. And they built this home together. Designed it for what they wanted out of life, and she has no intentions of leaving. This is their forever home, the cabin is not my forever home. Let’s go, little bird. Stand up straight and smile when the door opens. Don’t make me have to get onto you. Be a brat when it’s the two of us. Do you understand?”

You do. With a sweet smile, you reach for the door, but Steve clears his throat, opening his, and your hands fall to your lap. Watching as he jogs to your side of the door. You can’t help but to beam up at him when he opens your door, extending his arm down for you to take.

He keeps a firm grip on your waist as he walks up to the house. Knocking on the door, his hand goes to your chin, and he lifts your face to look up. Despising when you don’t exude confidence. And then the door opens to the cutest woman, and your eyes fall to her stomach.

“Oh my god! You’re having a baby!” Steve looks over at you confused, and your hands reach forward before retreating. “Can I?” She giggles, but nods her head yes, and you press your hands against her belly. “How far along are you? Steve! I felt the baby.”

“We’re twenty-seven weeks. Bucky and Alpine are spoiling me rotten.”

“Alpine?” Shy points down to her leg, and you see the fluffy cat circling her body. Squatting down you hold a hand out to her, and she leans into you without hesitation. “Are you protecting your mama and baby during this time? Making biscuits on your baby’s home? I bet you are the best kitty in the entire world, huh, pretty girl?”

“Steve, you’re drooling,” Bucky whispers to his friend. “You look different, buddy. Must be…well, Dove is making a good man out of you. Grab her up, let’s come inside, or we can go to the backyard. Shy has almost got it perfect. She’s got her an English garden look out there. Something she’s always wanted since she was a kid. The Secret Garden is her favorite.”

Steve pulls at your arm, and you stand up. Giving a big smile to your former guard. “Come on, Dove, Shy won’t bite if you give me a hug. I’d be more worried about your idiot boyfriend,” giggling, you jump into his arms. Squeezing around his neck so tight, you worry he can’t breathe.

“I missed you, too, ya heathen. Come on, I think all four of us need to talk,” and you did. Lots of talk. So much time was missed. And you knew that there was a part of this relationship that would never be the same. Bucky had three things right here that meant more to him than his own life. He wasn’t risking his life to save yours and Steve’s anymore. The only risks he would be taking would be to keep him alive to see his family one more day.

While you might not ever be Shy’s favorite, you can see her curiosity towards you is real. She keeps her eyes on you, but smiles since her cat is so familiar with you. Alpine bounces between walking in front of you to walking in front of her. Ultimately choosing her family. It’s as it should be. Bucky is doing the same. And with a look up at Steve, you understood. You understood all too well.

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @theinheriteddutchess @annaallicce @feyfantome @jesevans @tittittoee @bananapiedreams @onclouds999 @darkserenity24 @abbatoirablaze @ashychangeling @identity2212 @mrsevans90 @weirdothatwritess @floralwsloski @thestralwriting @ambearsstuff @lyndys @kandis-mom @hoodiesandicedcoffee @awhoreformoree @nyxbellabarnes @buckybarnesisdaddy @honeyhoneylovelylove

#your mark on me #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fics #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #chris evans #chris evans character #tattoo

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taylorswiftstylequestions · 1 month

Note

I'm not puke anon, but I will admit I had similar thoughts when she first announced TTPD / released the track list. With the huge caveat that I know nothing about their relationship or them personally, I'm in camp, "Joe is an okay guy and was good for her at that time in her life" and I was worried that any negativity on the album might be revisionist history.

BUT! I'm reserving judgment because I feel like she always surprises me. I was more of a casual fan when reputation came out and I remember scoffing at the track list because the titles really lean into the stereotyping she experienced at the time and I didn't realize that she was being tongue-in-cheek. I was so surprised when I listened to the songs and they were nothing like I expected. So hoping for good things with TTPD!

These are all such great points and I esp hear you on how reputation was absolutely an intentionally designed bait-and-switch album (one that you would think would be centered on All That Drama but in reality was a love album).

But the one thing I push back on a lot is the 'revisionist history' claim that I see because. Because. Well. It's her history to revise.

And what is the human experience if not continually filtering, learning, relearning, analyzing, reanalyzing, and holding our own personal experiences in our hands as we grow older and learn more and feel more feelings and do more things that we can look on our lives with more hindsight and perspective and ascribe new meaning to what we've been through. And your vision of this person being okay and good for her in her life (while absolutely still possible to be true) was only something you accepted because it was told to you (note by this i mean: one/general/us/royal we/collective) by her.

And I feel like the pre-discomfort people are experiencing w this tracklist (again based on the assumptions of things bc we don't know what these songs actually are) ("He was a good guy but this was also really hard" / "We were great together and I experienced a lot of strife at points of this relationship") is perhaps because of the common thing where admitting we're wrong or changing our minds once we learn new information is fucking hard!

But if you (again one/general/us/etc) feel that way being confronted by a person you thought you knew perhaps not being entirely the way you thought only as a bystander and consumer of her art - how do you think that entire unlearning curve felt for her who actually lived it.

#opinion

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cherryjuiceblues · 1 year

Note

what if harry and reader was in the same school and had same classes and was like ’enemies’ but harry would tease the reader all the time and trying to make them blush but secretly harry has a crush on the reader

✰ frat!harry no warnings. teasing. gentle bullying.

You can feel Harry’s eyes on your back as you try to focus on what your lecturer is saying. It’s always the same—you’ll turn to look at him but his lips will curl and you’ll end up feeling like he’s caught you in the act.

He riles you up without effort; distracts you from your notes without having to say a thing. It infuriates you and he lives for it. Watches the way you try to relieve the tension in your neck and shuffle in your seat in discomfort as he burns holes into your back.

It’s hard for Harry sometimes to stay so stony when all he wants is to gaze at you moony-eyed, but the teasing makes it worth it. And the reaction he gets out of you by acting like an asshole only encourages him to continue.

You’d been dealing with him for too long; with no control over the matter, progressing through your formative years at school together until reaching college. And he’s been dick throughout all of it. Maybe calling him that was a little unfair—he’s never genuinely upset you, but Harry had perfected the art of annoyance and you had no time for it anymore.

Once the class is over, you scramble to escape his presence—packing up less than subtly. But Harry’s right there beside you as you walk out the door, slinging an arm over your shoulders.

“Hey, baby,” he drawls low into your ear.

You scoff and try to duck out of his grip. “Don’t call me that.”

He stays firmly put, finger daring to brush your hair behind your ear. “Why? Does it muddle your little virgin brain?”

“Harry!” You gasp, creating distance between the two of you as people filter around your bodies. He’s grinning, clearly amused with himself. “Don’t say that so loud!” You’re flustered. “And I’m not—” you don’t finish your sentence, repressing a huff. “Leave me alone.”

You’re quick to walk away but Harry refuses to let it go. “Not what, Y/N?” He plucks your bag from your shoulder and slings it over his own.

“Give me my bag back,” you demand, but his lips curl and he continues walking to your next class. “Harry!”

“What? I’m being nice,” he smiles to himself at the sound of you catching up to him.

“You’re never nice,” you argue back, refusing to lose.

“And why’s that?”

Your brain pauses. You have no valid answer. “You—you’re annoying.” Heat floods your face at the juvenile admittance.

“Would an annoying person carry your bag to your next class?” He questions, resting his arm around your shoulders again. You huff and squirm a little but eventually just let Harry get his way. He seems far too pleased with himself for your liking. “Thought not.”

You settle in under his arm and begrudgingly let him lead you. He could take you anywhere, you suppose—and maybe you’d let him if it meant he would ease up on the teasing.

“Okay, thanks Harry,” you say begrudgingly, “but give it back now.” You’re standing outside of the classroom with minutes before your lecturer arrives.

He hums, “Only if you thank me properly.”

“What? Just give it back,” you’re holding your hand out expectantly.

Harry gives it a dismissive glance. “I only accept thanks in the form of kisses,” his eyes narrow with mischief and he turns his face a little, presenting his cheek.

“I’m not kissing you, Harry!” You hiss. “I don’t want to.”

“I don’t believe you,” his voice is deep and smooth, like he’s switched on his seduction. “Come on, just one. And then I’ll know you really mean it when you thank me.”

You stare at him in disbelief, look at his cheek and the way his skin has become rosy. You consider telling him you don’t mean it but… It’s just a peck, you think with deliberation. If it means he’ll give your bag back. He doesn’t bend down so you push up, hands on his shoulders, and leave a soft kiss on the apple of his cheek. Your lips depart with a gentle noise and Harry bites his lip in a smile. The first time you think you’ve ever seen him shy.

Wordlessly, he hands your bag over and you walk into the classroom, him trailing you like a dopey puppy. This time he takes the seat directly next to you, and you can’t help but think his swooning silence and shining eyes is what’s making your heart beat faster.

Maybe he’s not so annoying.

sleepover tag!

#cherryjuiceblues sleepover #blurb night #harry styles blurbs #writing #harry styles imagines #frat!harry #fratrry #harry styles x reader #harry concept #concept

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milkb0nny · 7 months

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Could you please do Jing yuan trying to comfort is s/o when they r crying? I just imagine him to be like some sort of cuddle bug tryin to comfort his lover 😭🩷

Jing Yuan comforting his crying s/o

Jing Yuan x neutral!reader

Note: Thank you very much for requesting! I love this idea and I had a lot of fun writing it. Comforting headcanons always cheer up your not so bright days. 🤎 I hope you like it!

🤎 Despite his busy routine and the weight of his responsibilities as a General, Jing Yuan is incredibly gentle and understanding when it comes to comforting you. He understands that everyone needs a shoulder to cry on, and he is more than willing to be that strong, comforting presence. Jing Yuan will most likely ask you about your discomfort before you open up, making it easy for the two of you to cope with whatever you go through.

🤎 Jing Yuan has a way with words that can soothe even the most troubled soul. He knows just what to say to make you feel heard and validated. His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping you in a comforting cocoon of reassurance. Besides giving you lovely compliments, he’ll tell you what solutions you could chase after and what the two of you can do to solve your issues. Of course he is there for you when you need him, but he’s also there to always help you out.

🤎 Though, sometimes, the best way Jing Yuan can comfort you is by simply being there. He may take a break from his busy schedule to sit in silence with you, holding your hand or offering a comforting hug. His presence alone is often enough to provide solace. He tends to not ask questions when he notices you breathing hysterically. In times you hyperventilate, he stays silent or softly hums melodies of songs you often listen to together. Pushing your limits to the breaking point with comments or questions isn’t his way at all.

🤎 Jing Yuan is very protective of his lover. If the source of your distress is external, he will go to great lengths to ensure your safety and well-being. His determination to keep you safe is a source of comfort in itself. He is unable to view you fearing the future, fearing certain places, fearing yourself; he needs you safe and sound. Jing Yuan won’t solve issues the violent way but he’s not afraid to use his high position to fight off anything - or anyone - that could potentially hurt you.

🤎 He knows that little surprises can go a long way in brightening your depressed mood. He might leave a poetic note or a small gift for you to find when you’re feeling down, showing that he's always thinking of your well-being. Like everyone, you sometimes prefer to stay alone in order to settle your chaotic mind; in times like these Jing Yuan gifts you love poems, small sticky notes or a single flower in front of your room.

🤎 Jing Yuan mastered the art of making soothing herbal teas for you. He'll prepare your favorite tea in your personalized cup and serve it to you, encouraging you to sip slowly and relax as the warmth of the tea calms your senses. From time to time he hears you crying in the night. He knows you’ll calm down with some warm, not too hot, tea and his arms around you. Even though tiredness also haunts him, he’s never too tired to make you a cup of tea, or hot milk with honey, or whatever you want. Then, he’ll sit down, pet your back and wrap you in a thick blanket.

🤎 Although he often appears reserved, Jing Yuan is willing to share his own vulnerabilities with you. He might open up about his own challenges, creating a sense of mutual understanding and connection. Only if it fits the situation though, since he doesn’t want to turn your struggles into a competition. Still, you appreciate his open mind as he rarely expresses his own struggles in life. He’s more the type to eat it all up.

#jing yuan x y/n #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hrs jing yuan #hrs x reader

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 month

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Her Alpha

AN: It’s Alpha Steve time!It feels good to be updating all my series 😀 This fits in between Surprise, Surprise and Birthday Gifts

@noseyrosey1597 asked: I’m obsessed with Alpha nomad Steve and his omega. Could you possibly do a one shot where she meets the team? Maybe she doesn’t like Tony

Endless thanks to my beta, @endlesstwanted. Likes are loved, reblogs are golden. Mood board by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Join my tag list here

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@steverogersbingo - A1 - Alpha Steve

Master list | SRB Master list | Series Master list

Summary: It’s not even been 24 hours since you and Steve were reunited, but it’s the start of the next chapter - you’re moving in with him at the Avengers Compound, which also means it’s time to meet the team. You’ve just got to hope you can keep your pregnancy hormones under control.

Relationship: Alpha Steve x Pregnant Omega Reader

Word count: 2.8k

CW: A/B/O, Sexual content (P in V sex, pregnancy sex, knotting), Steve’s dirty talk, smidge Angst, hormonal and aggressive Omega Reader, Pet names (Omega, sweetheart, Mama).

You woke up, an almost long forgotten feeling of contentment suffusing you, and turned within the pair of thick arms that held you. With a sigh you looked up into the face of Steve, your Alpha. You lifted your hand and smoothed a lock of his hair back from his forehead, marvelling at the sheer beauty of him. It was almost criminal, the way his long eyelashes kissed his freckled skin. A happy chirp made its way out of your throat and Steve stirred, pulling you tighter to his body.

If it weren’t for the ache on your neck, or the echoing one between your legs, you’d still believe this was a dream. Five months had gone without you seeing each other, longer than anytime before, but now the sporadic visits were finally over. The Accords were rescinded, Steve was no longer a criminal on the run and you could truly be together. Today Steve would be taking you to where he lived, the Avengers Compound in upstate New York, and you wouldn’t have to put up with this shitty, damp apartment anymore. You’d have a nice place to live, access to a state of the art medical facility for when your pup (or pups) came, and you’d get to meet all of Steve’s friends. What a difference a day made.

You sighed again and tilted your head to press your lips against Steve’s. His eyes were still closed, but you knew he wasn’t fully asleep because he deepened the kiss almost immediately and a muscular thigh, covered in coarse hair, pushed its way between your legs. You rocked against it as he kissed you, despite the fact that it increased the ache that was there. You welcomed the mild discomfort because it meant he was really here with you.

“Morning, ‘Mega,” Steve mumbled against your lips. He rolled onto his back and pulled you with him so you were straddling his hips, his morning wood slotting against your sex. Your fingers threaded into the slightly too long hair at the nap of his neck and he let out a pleasured growl.

“Morning, Alpha,” you purred as you lightly ground down onto him. You were wet already, a combination of being back in your Alpha’s arms along with being in your second trimester - your libido had picked up and Steve couldn’t have returned at a better time.

“Ready to leave this all behind?” he asked as his large hands landed on your hips and helped you move back and forth over his length, covering it in your arousal.

“Mmm-hmm,” you confirmed. “Although I’m not ready to leave this bed yet. There’s something I wanna do first.” You lifted your body, took Steve in hand and then sunk back down, a feeling of bliss suffusing your whole being. You were glad that it hadn’t been that long since he was last inside you so that you didn’t need to go through any arduous prep.

“Oh, sweetheart. Fuck.” You very rarely took the lead like this - you blamed your hormones - and Steve’s eyes rolled back in his head. “That’s it, Mama. Ride me. Take what you need. Look so god-damn sexy, carrying my pups. If I could I fuck some more into you. Jeez.”

The power trip was making you dizzy with arousal. You wanted him to lose his mind due to his want and desire for you. He was your Alpha - your mate. You were pregnant with his pups, and now you were going to start the rest of your life together this very day.

As you rocked atop him, Steve ran a hand up your body to cup one of your breasts. His thumb flicked over your engorged nipple and you gasped at the sensation as your body clenched around his length. Your whole body was much more sensitive now.

“Steve,” you keened, and sped up your movements. “So close, Alpha. Make me come, please!” You knew he was close as well because you could feel his swelling knot teasing your entrance.

“Your wish is my command, Omega.” His other hand dropped to your clit and he drew matching circles over it, both hands working in tandem on different parts of your body to pull you over the edge. You moaned loudly as the pleasure hit, rocking back and forth on his cock as your pussy spasmed. A second dart of pleasure hit you as Steve’s knot popped and you felt his cum fill you up. Steve’s noises of ecstacy merged with yours as your movements slowed and then finally stilled. You collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily, your bodies still joined together.

“We don’t need to pack up until this afternoon, do we?” you asked. Steve chuckled, his body jiggling yours as he did.

“You don’t need to do anything, Omega. I can sort it out while you’re having a nap.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh, good,” you replied and then let out a yawn. “I find myself worn out for some reason.”

“I wonder why,” Steve replied with a snort. “Now relax. Let your Alpha deal with all the mundane stuff.

As the car made its way up the long drive leading to the large, white compound, you felt your stomach flutter in anticipation. You’d never met the other Avengers, having only encountered Steve by chance just before he went on the run. It had been like one of those moments from an old movie, where your eyes had met across a crowded room. You’d approached each other warily, sensing a connection but being sensibly cautious. Then you’d each caught the scent of the other, and that had been it. It was a miracle you hadn’t just started fucking in the middle of the coffeeshop, the way your body had reacted - your inner Omega would have done so, happily. Luckily, Steve was a little bit more controlled and managed to at least wait until you’d had one dinner together before agreeing to come back to your apartment with you.

That had been just over two years ago, and given how he’d mated you and then had to disappear, only returning for your heat or his rut, your relationship could be termed a whirlwind. Now you were going to meet his friends - his family - and announce that you were going to be having his pups in a matter of months. Your hands twisted in the fabric of your coat, and you pulled your lower lip between your teeth to chew on it.

Picking up on your anxiety, Steve pulled you tighter into his embrace and used his thumb to release your lip from its torture.

“They’re gonna love you, Omega. I promise.” His deep voice soothed you and you rested your head on his chest.

“You’re sure?” you asked quietly.

“How could they not? You’re so sweet and kind. And when they know you’re carrying my pups they’re gonna be thrilled. Happy likes you already, so you have nothing to worry about.”

You flicked your eyes up to the driver’s mirror, catching the glance of the tall, broad and cheerful Beta who’d turned up to whisk you and Steve back to the compound. Apparently he was Tony Stark's Head of Security and you’d been put straight at ease when he’d greeted you with a genuine smile and a ‘Nice to meet you, ma’am.’ You hoped the rest of the introductions would go as smoothly.

The car came to a halt, and you looked out of the tinted window in awe at the enormity of the site.

“Here we go, Mama - home sweet home.” Steve got out of the car and then held out his hand to assist you. “Let’s head on over to the common room - the others are waiting. Happy will sort out your bags for us.”

Unused to this level of attention, you spun around to face the security specialist. “Oh, you don’t have to. I’m sure we can…”

Happy held up his hand and flashed you a grin. “It’s not a problem at all, ma’am. It’s practically a holiday compared to some of the things Mr Stark asks me to do.”

You giggled back as you wondered what on earth Iron Man had his staff doing? You’d wouldn’t ask though, getting the feeling that you’d regret knowing the answer.

With your arm tucked safely in his, Steve led you into the state of the art compound and along a maze of corridors. Each one looked the same. Your confusion and apprehension must have shown on your face.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart - you’ll learn your way around in no time, and while you’re getting there, you can just ask FRIDAY for help - she’s Tony’s AI and can help with whatever you need.” Steve lifted his head and addressed the ceiling. “Isn’t that right, FRIDAY?”

“It is, Captain. I’m here to assist in any way possible.”

You jumped as the voice came out of hidden speakers, and Steve couldn’t hide his smile.

“Is she always listening?” you whispered, pulling Steve down closer to you. The thought that there would be a computer intelligence that would be able to hear you… your cheeks started to heat at the thought.

Steve shook his head. “She does continually monitor us and the surroundings as standard, but not everything is for her computer eyes, sweetheart. We can tell her when to engage the privacy protocols.” He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and leant closer. “Some things are just for me, Omega.” He let out a little growl and nipped at your lower lip, making you jump for the second time in as many minutes, although for totally different reasons. His eyes were dark and his expression held all sorts of promises, but you knew there was no time for that at this moment. Besides, the wait would just make it better.

Your mate obviously had the same idea, as he started walking again, keeping his stride short so he wasn’t dragging you along.

“So, Bucky, Nat, Wanda and Vision live on site. Sam splits his time between here and DC. Clint also splits his time. Thor has rooms here for when he’s visiting from Asgard - at least with his hammer he doesn’t have to worry about the commute time. Tony and Pepper obviously have their own place, but Tony spends a lot of time here, mainly because Pepper’s banned all his large tech and tinkering stuff from their house. Tony should be here, or at least on his way over. He said he was desperate to meet you.”

“Why does that worry me?” you jested.

“He’ll just flirt with you - that’s what Tony does. And he’ll mainly do it to wind me up.” He screwed up his face and you giggled. The idea that you’d even respond to the flirting of someone who wasn’t your Alpha was laughable.

Steve had done a good job of distracting to you, because you didn’t even think about the fact that you must be near your destination until Steve steered you through an open doorway and into a room that housed a large number of sofas, a massive TV, a kitchenette, a foosball table and seven other people.

“And here we are,” said Steve as he came to a halt, moving you in front of him with his arms clasped around your waist. “Everyone, this is my beautiful Omega. Sweetheart - this is everyone.”

You knew your eyes were bugging out of your head. You were in the presence of literal superheroes - your brain had long gotten over the fact that Steve was Captain America - and didn’t for the life of you know how you were going to adjust.

One of them pushed away from the wall and walked towards you with a shy smile, long dark hair flopping over his brow. “Hey, Doll. I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet you. Sorry I kept Stevie away from you for so long.”

You grinned back at him and shook his proffered hand. At this distance you could tell he was an Alpha, just like Steve. His scent wasn’t unpleasant - metal, sandalwood and fresh snow - but it didn’t speak to you like Steve’s did. His blend of spring sunshine, lemon thyme and honey called to your Omega in a way that no other Alpha’s ever had. “It’s good to meet you too. I’m looking forward to finding out all of Steve’s deep dark secrets from you.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed, and you heard Steve mutter something under his breath that sounded like ‘I thought it was Tony I’d have to worry about’.

The next to step forward was a petite, but lethal looking red-head. You knew from news reports that this was the Black Widow - or Natasha. “Hi, I’m Nat. I’m glad that this idiot finally managed to find someone to put up with him.”

You sniggered behind your hand as Steve let out a cry of mock anger. Hearing all of the banter made your heart soar. It really was like meeting Steve’s family.

He introduced you around to the others, and you subtly scented them as they got close. Nat had a strange scent - like a cross between an Alpha and a Beta, and you didn’t know what to make of it. Sam and Thor were both Alphas, Clint was a Beta, Wanda an Omega, and Vision was just Null, being an artificial construct.

Your inner Omega was slightly concerned by Wanda for a few moments, until you realised that she and Steve obviously had a big brother-little sister vibe going on and you relaxed.

“Now,” said Steve, “the only person left to meet is…”

There was a crashing and clattering noise from the hallway, and then another man appeared - there was no mistaking who it was.

“...Tony.” Steve finished.

Tony swaggered into the room, walking up to you and Steve.

“Hey Capsicle, sorry I’m late.” He clapped his hand jovially on Steve’s shoulder and grinned.

Before you even knew what you were doing, you’d pulled away from Steve, grasped Tony’s wrist, and pulled it away so he was no longer touching your Alpha. Your upper lip curled and a snarl left your mouth.

“My mate,” you spat at the surprised Omega.

The room fell silent and you felt nine pairs of eyes focussed on you, but your hindbrain was in control, protecting your growing family from this interloper.

“Umm, sweetheart?” Steve placed his hand on your back between your shoulder blades. “Are you alright?”

You growled, eyes still focussed on Tony, who had much more of your Alpha’s scent lingering to him than you were happy with.

“My Alpha,” you bit out, stepping up into Tony’s personal space. “Mine.”

“Okay…” Tony breathed out, slowly removing your hand from him and taking a few steps back, looking you up and down as if he was trying to see what was under your coat. “So, ummm, I think congratulations are in order! I’m guessing that’s what’s set you off.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Vision cock his head and heard him whisper to Wanda. “I think I’ve missed something, dearest.”

“She’s pregnant and she sees Tony as a threat,” Wanda whispered back.

Tony coughed awkwardly and drew your attention back to him.

“I can assure you that I’m not after Ste - your Alpha. I have an Alpha of my own. See.” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing you his mating scar.

Your eyes narrowed as you peered at him. “You smell of my Alpha.” The accusatory tone was obvious, and you could feel Steve shifting awkwardly behind you.

“Well, we do spend a lot of time together. We’re friends. I was helping him yesterday - trying to find you.”

You snarled again and Tony’s eyes went wide, as though he thought you might leap forward and try to rip his throat out with your teeth. Your inner Omega was considering it.

“B-But,” Tony continued, “I smell of my own Alpha - Pepper - more. Here…” he held his wrist out towards you, and cautiously you leant forward and sniffed. Tony smelled of oil, coffee and amber. Steve’s scent lingered on him, but it was almost drowned out by another set of notes - vanilla, jasmine and lemon.

“Hhmmph.” You grunted out a non-committal noise, but backed up towards Steve again, taking hold of his arm and aggressively scenting at his wrist - publicly claiming him -, never letting your gaze leave Tony.

“Sweetheart? Omega? Would you like to go to our apartment now and have a little rest?” Steve spoke tentatively, as though you were a bomb set on a hair trigger.

“Not rest. Knot.” you retorted before grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the room. “FRIDAY - which way to Captain Rogers’ apartment?”

The Avengers watched you go, and then looked at each other as soon as you were out of view.

“Well,” said Tony as he breathed out heavily. “I might have to keep my distance from Cap for the next few months.”

Nat chuckled. “Might be best, especially if you want to keep your larynx intact.”

Tony brought his hand up to cup his own throat, lips twisting wryly. “Yeah. At least we know one thing - she’s not gonna let Rogers walk all over her.”

Tag list: @km-ffluv, @wheezy-stucky, @kmc1989, @kombatfather1796, @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @wolfsmom1, @doasyoudesireandlive, @goldylions

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #pregnancy fic #pregnant reader #omegaverse #a/b/o verse #My Beginning My End My Everything

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enneagramgoodvibes · 2 months

Text

!!! This may not apply to you personally lol

If your favorite vento aureo character is…

Giorno then you blame your parents and teachers and your doctors and think that you would’ve turned out “right” if you had the perfect adults, but you’re never gonna know for sure. You don’t want to go back to how things were. You can’t picture the happy ending, only the happy moment. Stop putting pressure on yourself to live fully, just live.

Fugo then you don’t have an outlet. Your pain doesn’t bring you flashbacks and memories, it brings you irregular and maladaptive antisocial behaviors that you must fight through in order to connect. You don’t let anyone touch your heart because you haven’t lived long enough to see the old scars heal, and you don’t want to risk another wound. The patterns you have collected that keep you stuck are not real, and it’s time to learn new patterns.

Mista then you’re overstimulated and you fixate on one, fixable thing as a cheap solution to your discomfort. As long as you see the world as acting upon you, then you’ll never have to reflect upon how you act upon the world. Eat and drink and move and worry and sleep and laugh, but please — you say — never let there be nothing. Better exhausted and overheated than frozen and silent. Stop avoiding the thing you’ve been avoiding.

Narancia then the present is your constant opponent. The past is nostalgically warm, the future is idealistically comforting, but you don’t get either one; you’re stuck in the purgatory of every waking, current moment, never getting any closer to the future and never getting any further from the past. Time is coming to get you, and when it catches you, you won’t exist. Get a piece of paper, and write down everything about who you are. Draw yourself. Vent. Do it every week and see the proof of your eternal existence and growth across time and space.

Bruno then the pressure upon you is so heavy that there isn’t even room for you to explain why Bruno means so much to you. You can have your art and your stories and your dreams, but then real life calls you back, and you must let your eyes glass over so you can focus at work. Your agony is when something happens in a group, and for the sake of the environment, you must stay silent. “It’s not your place to speak” but you know what you’d say, and you practice the fire you’re going to spit in the shower and between songs on your phone — because it’s only a character. You wouldn’t really do that. Please, let yourself react when you want to, and you will inspire others to do the same.

Leone then you are fixated on the transformation you underwent. It’s still you underneath, and we all know, yet you’re convinced that to age is to abandon and reject who you were when you were young. Through the telescope formed at the bottom of a tipped-back bottle, you find a person or a fixation or a vague goal, and you think “ah yes, that’s what will save me. If I follow that North Star, and I walk and I walk, I will find my new self.” And you praise and worship the star while ignoring that it’s your hands that pushed you into a sit and your feet that have carried out along all along. You can recover, and you are not lost. I’m so sorry that someone made you think that you were never going to come home again, because I can see the turtle shell on your back. If I could lie to you and say that I know it’s going to be okay, I would; I’d do anything to trick you into walking out of that alleyway. It’s time for you to start moving again.

#giorno giovanna #guido mista #pannacotta fugo #narancia ghirga #bruno bucciarati #bruno buccellati #leone abbacchio #vento aureo

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stirthewaters · 17 days

Text

Little with You

Summary: Cg Wednesday to the rescue after Xavier says some insensitive shit. Warnings: language, anxiety attack, heavy agere themes, blood Word Count: 2.1k A/N: uhh first time writing stuff like this, bear with me please T_T this is all completely sfw and non sexual stuff! Click away if this isn't your kind of thing :))

The hallways felt too crowded, too rough. Tight even. All you could hear was the mingling sounds of talking, laughing, shoes scraping against the floor, sounds that you didn’t usually pay attention to. now it was as if they were all you could hear. As you passed, rain pattered against the windows, a constant drum that no longer felt soothing.

Your mind felt fuzzy; like cotton candy was forming a solid barrier around your brain. It made sense after all; you hadn’t been little in at least a week. What with exams coming up you couldn’t afford to take the time to do so. Unfortunately, that was most likely what was causing you to be late to class. Again. Shouldering through purple uniforms you felt your mind fighting to release from its clutches and to sink into the comforting haven of littlespace; you couldn’t do it. Not here. Not now.

When you turned the corner into a less crowded hall, you paused and pressed your back against the wall, taking deep breaths in an attempt to ground yourself, blocking out every single thought that wasn’t anything close to a big thought. Focused on the feeling of your hands gripping the material of your backpack straps. It helped. A little.

Turning away from the small hall you headed into class; psychology. You would never know why they taught psychology at a school for exceptionally gifted students. Knocking on the door you were greeted by your professor; Mr. Hedgeworth.

“Late again, Y/N?”

Those stone gray eyes that fell on you made you shudder as you spoke up hesitantly.

“I’m sorry, sir- it won’t happen again.”

The man didn’t speak but you let out a soft sigh of relief inwardly as he stepped back, allowing you entrance to the class. You briefly scanned the room and felt yourself frown when you saw the only seat open next to Xavier. He was looking at you too; his frown almost matched yours. No, you didn’t want to sit next to him; it was always occupied by him going on and on about his artwork, how he’d gotten accepted to an apprentice program in town for doing wall art in some cafe. How lucky he was to have gotten the position.

Reluctantly you dropped your bag under the desk, sliding into the chair beside him. You didn’t make eye contact as your head fell into your hand, watching the professor scribble across the chalkboard. The silence was too short until he leaned over, muttering in your ear.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been late three times this week.”

You couldn’t help a soft roll of your eyes as you mumbled in response, “Just a lot of studying for exams; nothing special.” You felt your fists clench with irritation as he gave a soft chuckle, which came off as somewhat condescending to you.

“Come on, Y/N, be real with me. You don’t study that much.”

“Xavier just drop it, okay?”

You kept your eyes ahead, focusing on Mr. Hedgeworth and nobody else. Your whole body felt too tense, your grip on the desk turning your knuckles white. The temperature of the room felt too hot; were you going to throw up? You wished, oh you wished you could be less obvious with your discomfort but Xavier noticed. He was leaning even closer. His shoulder was touching yours. You didn’t want him touching you.

“It’s not…your…your thing?”

You couldn’t help a scowl from crossing your face as you forced out through gritted teeth, “I’m not on my period, dumbass.”

“Okay, geez! Look, I’m just trying to help you, but you’re not giving me anything to work with. Don’t make me guess.”

You didn’t respond feeling your chest getting tighter. It felt as if all the air was crashing in around you and pushing in on your lungs, demanding faster breaths, and Xavier sure as hell wasn’t helping. You grimaced slightly, feeling the walls you’d built around your mind start to crumble as you fought to stay in your right of mind.

“Ohhhh…. Oh.” Xavier’s tone morphed into something akin to irritation; maybe even disgust. You felt yourself stiffen just at the sound of it. “It’s not that baby shit you told me about last year, right?”

The hands found each other, and you automatically began picking at your skin as you tried to pay all of your attention ahead of you. You didn’t want to talk about it. Especially with Xavier. Maybe you were imagining the breath you felt on your shoulder, tickling your neck. Taking your lack of a response as confirmation, he snorted and leaned back in his chair with disbelief, scoffing at you.

“It is, isn’t it? Y/N I thought you were over that.” He leaned his elbows on the desk as he tilted his head, frowning. “You get how gross that is, right? It’s a fetish.”

Your breaths were coming faster and faster; you weren’t gasping for air but it sure as hell felt like you were. You could barely put together a retort to snap back at him as he continued, stating his disapproval loud and clear.

“I mean, what, you can’t handle the big bad world so you act like a baby-? Everyone has to deal with it, that’s so sensitive, y’know?”

You stood, raising your hand and muttering a quick excuse about having to use the bathroom as you grabbed your backpack and stepped out quickly, gasping for air at this point as you ran for your dorm, trying to get your head to quiet. The hallways were thankfully emptier than usual so you were able to go faster than you normally would’ve.

Slamming open the door to your dorm you threw your backpack aside and slowly slid to the floor, drawing in rapid breaths as you tried to remember your breathing exercises, to ground yourself and calm down, but everything was so muddled you could barely form a cohesive thought.

Frantic tapping interrupted Wednesday in class as she felt the familiar hand on her shoulder. She briefly glanced over at Thing before muttering through gritted teeth.

“What is it now?”

The raven had a bit of trouble understanding his muddled mess of frequent signs and sighed with irritation. “Slower.”

When the hand finally managed to get a sentence through clearly Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought, as she paused. Eventually, she raised her hand, speaking coolly. “May I use the restroom?”

Once her permissions had been granted she was quick to gather her belongings, boots echoing against the floor as she hurried out the door and towards your dorm hall. She had known this would happen; you’d been pushing yourself too long, too far.

Arriving at your dorm rather quickly she knocked a couple of times, calling out your name. Met with no response her eyebrows furrowed and the raven pushed against the door, surprised to find it unlocked. A glance around the room proved to be fruitful as she spotted you, curled up in the corner, weakly gasping for air. Crossing the room in seconds she took a seat in front of you, hesitating for a moment as she watched you grip at her sleeves for some semblance of comfort.

Wednesday reached out, gently cupping your chin and lifting it to meet her gaze. She spoke quietly, trying to calm you.

“Focus on me. Only me.”

She watched as your scared eyes, swimming with tears, met hers and you nodded shakily at her. “In. Out. Slowly.”

Your breathing began to deepen and Wednesday let out a soft sigh of relief as her attention turned to your hands; blood streaked around your fingernails, leaking down your fingers in trails. You’d been picking at your skin, no doubt something you did when you were stressed. Oddly, she didn’t like how blood looked on you.

“Stay here.”

Wednesday stood, not making any comment on the soft whimper you gave as she did so. In a moment she returned with some wet wipes, kneeling at your side and taking your hands in hers, giving them a good gentle clean and removing any traces of blood from your skin. Once done she placed the wipes aside and leaned forward, giving you a quick and small kiss on your forehead.

“Good. Let’s get you out of this dreadful uniform, hmm?”

With her guidance she helped you to your feet, working with you on untying your tie and unbuttoning your blazer; she did her best to keep you from doing most of the work, occasionally glancing at the quiet expression you had on your face. You were close to slipping, that she could tell. As she worked on your belt she muttered casually.

“You know I’m perfectly comfortable with you regressing around me, Y/N. There’s no need to pretend.”

When you shook your head she gave a quiet sigh, her hands pausing as she looked at you directly, eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Did something happen?”

Your little nod confirmed her assumption as she huffed slightly, snaking your belt from your pants and folding it. “Who?”

You didn’t respond, seeming to hesitate. Narrowing her eyes, Wednesday cupped your chin softly to have you look at her. “It is acceptable to sign instead of using your words.”

You hesitated, but she felt a small twinge of satisfaction as you signed “Xavier”. Of course. Sighing in annoyance over the idea of him insulting you she released you and headed for your closet, speaking as she went in an irritated tone.

“Ignore him. Whatever he said is wrong. Especially regarding your regression.”

She promptly returned from your closet, two outfits in hand. One was a plain white shirt and jeans, an outfit she’d seen you wear regularly outside of class. The other was a black onesie with a space pattern on the front, accompanied by some fluffy socks. Raising an eyebrow she watched your eyes dart between the two.

“Take your pick.”

When eventually you picked the onesie she felt her gaze soften just slightly. Oh, how your weakness softened her sharp edges; it was repulsive how she behaved around you. Stepping forward the raven wordlessly helped you into the garment, a hint of amusement filling her as she helped you with the snaps on the bottom. “There.”

Taking your hands the raven gently sat you down on the floor, trying to ease your drop comfortably. She could tell you were well in littlespace at this point; you were quiet, shy, and squirmy. It was quite amusing. Wednesday knelt by your bed, retrieving the bin where she knew you kept your little gear. Finding the dinosaur pacifier you seemed to favor she raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your nod before slipping it into your mouth. When you began to suckle she felt her gaze soften even more. The raven could’ve gone on for hours about her dislike of children but when it came to you being little… it felt different.

After clipping your pacifier to your onesie to prevent losing it she gave your hair a little ruffle, this time unable to suppress a smirk as she felt you melt into her hand. You were always so fond of touch in this state. “I assume you wouldn’t mind a bottle?”

Wednesday saw your eyes light up and she rolled her eyes softly, heading to the small makeshift dorm kitchen you possessed. A quick search of the cabinets was met with a few choice bottles you kept on hand. Choosing a simple fish patterned design she retrieved the carton of strawberry milk you kept in the minifridge, filling the bottle to a reasonable amount; if she had any hopes of getting you to bed later she did not want you having a sugar high.

Returning she handed you the bottle, watching you let the pacifier drop from your mouth to be replaced by the nipple. She took a seat comfortably on the rug, thinking for a moment about her next move; should she offer a bit of playtime or try to calm things down further?

Her thinking was interrupted by a warmth at her side and she looked down in mild surprise to see you snuggling up against her, looking up at her with big eyes. The raven only hesitated a moment before gently pulling you into her lap despite her small frame, wrapping her arms around you and murmuring into your ear, “good bambina.”

The rain drummed against the window of your dorm as she sat there with you, perfectly content watching you nurse from your bottle, holding you loosely to give you whatever comfort she could. She would stay the rest of the afternoon with you if you wished.

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