#that goes across my body under my rib cage

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Secrets (2)

Pairings: Wanda X Reader, Natasha X Reader

This fic is inspired by the song Secret by the Pierces and the HBO Max show Love and Death. I recommend listening to the song before reading but it's not necessary 

Warnings/Tags: 18+ Smut, Fingering, Oral sex, Face sitting, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough sex, Dirty talk, Dark Themes Possessive behaviour, Stalking, masturbation, cheating.

Please consider these warnings before reading.

Chapter 2- Oh Detka, My Beautiful Girl (5.5k words)

Other Chapters- 1, 3, 4, 5

Oh Detka, My Beautiful Girl

Why do you smile like you've been told a secret?

Now you're telling lies 'cause you have sworn to keep it

But no one keeps a secret

No one keeps a secret

With a nervous feeling consuming your entire body, you took a deep breath as you stood awkwardly outside the motel room, trying to build up the courage to knock on the door.

It had been three whole days since you agreed to meet Wanda, her arranging everything and giving you the address and room number that she had booked. To say you hadn't stressed or dreamed about this moment would have been a complete lie- you hadn't been able to stop. You practically counted down the minutes until you would be in the room with her, doing whatever she wanted you to do.

Taking one last anxious breath, as you had been standing there a while, you knocked on the door, anticipation building with every second you were left waiting outside. The sound of your heart beating wildly in your chest, pounding against your rib cage, filled your ears until the door swiftly opened, revealing her.

Wanda's face softened at your tense and shy form, her striking eyes contrasting the comforting smile on her face as they darkened, lust and desire swirling dangerously in the green pools of her eyes. A predatory smirk also appeared on her face, only for a split second, before fading back into the soft and gentle smile, encouraging you to come in.

"Take a seat Detka," her tone low, accent slipping into her words as she waits for you to do as she says. It filled her with excitement at how obedient you were, even at the simplest of things such as sitting in the seat she stood behind.

A shaky breath fell from your lips as her hands slid across your shoulders, dropping slightly lower to graze your collarbones before coming back up, one hand resting on the underside of your jaw and tilting your head back against her stomach. Her eyes were fixated on you, the way you shifted in your seat under her gaze causing her to smile down, attempting to ease your nerves.

She was going to show you how much you needed her, how you would only ever need her. Her smile twitched a little, trying to contain her thoughts as she knew she couldn't get carried away. Not just yet. You would have to adjust to her plans of stealing you away so she would have to be patient as to not scare you off.

Oh Detka, you'll soon be mine.

"Don't be nervous Dorogaya," she murmurs, the tone condescending as she lets her fingers brush your jawline. "You know I'd never let anything happen to you," her words easing the worry and doubt as you peered up at her, submission evident on your face as you succumbed to her wishes.

See? You need me Detka. I can get rid of all the negative thoughts.

"That's it," she whispers when you keep your gaze on her, not letting it flicker away to the wall behind her. "Now Detka, how this goes is up to you," she explains, letting your head go and spinning the chair around so you were facing her, your brows furrowing at her words.

"What?" you ask, voice wavering as arousal starts to build between your legs, that sultry look in her eyes driving you insane.

"Well, I can do two things Detka," a sinister smirk pulling at her lips as she lowers her body, letting her hands rest on each armrest while letting her lips slowly inch closer to yours, revelling in how your eyes are drawn to her lips. "I can fuck you slowly, intimately and worship this beautiful body of yours," her hand cups your cheek, her thumb moving to your lips, gently swiping across before dragging it down and releasing it, watching how the blush on your cheeks darken, the way your legs try and squeeze together a little to ease the unbearable heat.

"Or, I can fuck you how we both know you want to be fucked," her tone was teasing, intimidating. A chuckle followed, low and mocking, "Like my little whore."

"Please," you practically whimper, eyes pleading with her. You think it's pathetic that you're this desperate at just her words but Wanda on the other hand, she loves it.

"Shh Detka," she coos mockingly, letting her index finger slide against your lips before pushing in, making you suck on her finger. You feel humiliated letting her push her finger in further as well as another but fuck, it felt so good to please her like this.

So obedient... So good for me...Fuck, you're mine to ruin.

"I'm going to give you everything you want," she slides her fingers out, letting her lips ghost yours while her hands make their way to the collar of your shirt, pulling you a little closer. "And I'm not going to be gentle," her lips crash to yours, a moan spilling from your lips at how hungry and passionate it is.

She drags you out of the chair, pushing you onto the bed and wasting no time in climbing onto your lap, her strong thighs straddling your waist. Your hands desperately try to roam her body, the pure desire to feel her body taking over, the need to fulfil your latest fantasies making you groan at how soft her body is.

"No touching, not yet," she pants out against your lips, a whine escaping you at her, in your opinion, cruel words. When your hands don't leave fast enough for her liking, she takes a hold on your hands and pins them above your head, forcing you to lay underneath her body. "Keep them there Detka, don't make me tell you again," she warns before her rough lips meet yours again, dragging out another pitiful noise while your hands clenched into fists, trying to listen to her command.

Her tongue slides into your mouth, swallowing the needy moan that escapes you while you put up no fight to dominate the kiss. She toys with you, pulling back from the kiss with a smirk plastered on her face, watching how you try to chase her lips, addicted to them.

"I'm going to take such good care of you," she purrs at the shell of your ear, her hands moving down to the hem of your shirt, sliding under and letting her nails dig in a little on your stomach, the pain mixing with pleasure. "My good girl," she whispers, hearing the faint whine that spills from you.

"Please," your tone is laced with desperation, your face flushed and eyes blown with lust, lips swollen from how ruthless her kisses were, "I need you."

You only need me.

"You need me?" she asks teasingly, her hair tickling your cheeks as her face hovers mere millimetres away from yours. Her fingers slide up higher, ghosting the underside of your bra before pulling out, moving her body to sit up. She practically tears your shirt off your body, letting out a pleased sigh at the sight of your exposed torso. "You can beg better than that Detka," she murmurs before rolling her hips softly against yours, your head lolling back at the feeling while her nails scratch down your stomach, making you sensitive to her touch.

"Please, I just need you!" you beg once more, "Please Wanda, it hurts, please," you're silenced by her lips, her chuckling into the kiss while her hands quickly unclip your bra, discarding it somewhere in the room.

Just me. Only me.

"I know, I know," she whispers in response, her fingers pinching and pulling your nipples, the sensation causing more arousal to pool between your thighs, a chorus of sinful noises to escape you. "I need you too Detka," she lets her mouth nibble on your earlobe, continuing to grind her hips against you, working you up as much as she could to torment you before continuing with her words, "Fuck, do you know how long I've wanted this? How many ways I've imagined fucking you?"

How many times I've watched that whore fuck you? Watched you from the window with your hand between your thighs?

A guttural moan is all you can respond with, your back arching into her touch, her mouth moving to kiss down your neck, careful not to leave marks despite how much she wants to claim you as hers. Her hips push down harder against you, a moan escaping her at the way her clit brushes against her jeans, your eyes widening at the sound. You stare up at her in awe; the noise intoxicating as you would do anything to hear that noise again.

"Detka," she groans out, the vibrations tickling the juncture of your neck as she continues to kiss her way down your body, her teeth scraping your skin earning a gasp. You can feel the smug smile on her face against your collar bone as she peppers light kisses, finally moving down to your chest.

Her hips move off yours, sliding her body in between your spread legs while her hands move down to unfasten your jeans. Her fingers were deft, easily sliding the material down your legs before settling back into her position, letting her mouth take a breast into her mouth.

"Fuck Wanda," you moan out when her tongue skilfully swipes over your hardened nipple, sucking on it gently to have you arch your back once more, her fingers sliding under the waist band of your panties. "Oh shit," your hands grasp the sheets next to you when she lets her teeth scrape ever so gently over your sensitive nipple, peering up at you with a predatory look before switching to the other breast, lavishing it with the same amount of attention.

Oh Detka, what a mess between your legs. I'll always help you with this mess.

"You're so wet," she mutters against you, moving back up your body so she could crash her lips back to yours, needing to feel you moaning into her mouth again. It messy but fuck is it hot, her finger moving to slide your panties to the side, not having the patience to try and slide the fabric down your legs. She needed to be inside you. Now.

"You're so tight," she groans into your mouth, the way you were clamping down against her finger, hips rocking against her hand as you pathetically tried to ease the arousal that had built between your thighs. "Fuck, you've wanted this for a long time too, haven't you?" You're lost in the pleasure of her finger thrusting in and out of you, her pace relentless as she has one goal on her mind- she wants to fuck you so hard you forget everything about that whore.

"Yes," you pant out, lost for breath as she's fucking you like it's the last time, "Since I first met you."

"Fuck," she sighs in response, kissing you hard. "You're mine now," she rasps out, biting down on your lip and dragging it back before releasing it, staring into your eyes with nothing but hunger. "All mine," she sighs out before sliding another long, slender digit inside you, curling it beautifully against your g-spot.

Mine.

"Fuck!" you practically scream, your hips frantically moving against her hand. "Please, Wanda," you chant as your orgasm nears, tears starting to prick in the corner of your eyes at the overwhelming pleasurable feeling as she keeps you right on the edge.

"Oh, what's wrong Detka?" she whispers in a condescending tone, looking into your eyes that desperately plead with her to let you come. You whimper in response, a borderline evil laugh leaving her lips, "Do you need more?" Your head nods swiftly, your knuckles turning white due to your death grip on the sheets. "So greedy," she mumbles against your lips, kissing them as it if were necessary to live, continuing to fuck you mercilessly with her fingers before placing one final kiss on your lips, travelling down your body.

"Oh," Your mouth parts, a broken moan ripped from the back of your throat when her mouth sucks on your clit, her tongue swiping over the sensitive bundle of nerves, almost throwing you straight over the edge. Fuck, she was everything you dreamed of and more.

When she moans into your core at the taste of you, the coil snaps within you. Your legs clamp around her head, your hands reaching down to her hair as you come against her, hips desperately bucking against her face as a string of low moans are torn out of you. Your body practically slumps against the mattress, your body never orgasming so hard before. Wanda spreads your legs open and stares up at you with a deadly look in her eyes. Oh fuck.

You're going to regret that Detka.

She crawls up your body like a predator hunting its prey, her gaze unwavering as you nervously stare up at her.

"Did I say you could come?" Her tone is nothing but dominant, hand moving to your throat, applying a firm amount of pressure, eyes gauging your reaction before squeezing a little harder, feeling the groan that leaves you at her actions.

Fuck you look so pretty with my hand wrapped around your throat.

"No," your voice is small as you realise your mistake, the placement of her hand instantly turning you on again, despite how tired your body was.

"Then why did you think you could come just then?" she asks, treating you as if you were just some dumb little whore incapable of listening to her. You wanted to show her you could listen. You'd be a good girl for her.

"I'm sorry," your voice laced with regret for disobeying her, "Please let me make it up to you. Please, I'll do anything." you beg her, the smile on her face turning wicked.

Anything?

"You want to make it up to me?" she husks out, her teeth biting down on her lower lip as she stares down into your sorrowful eyes.

"Yes," the word leaves your lips without any hesitation. "Anything."

"Stay there," she commands and you don't dare challenge her, remaining on the bed as she stands next to it, her hands toying with the hem of her shirt. "Anything I want?" Her tone contains a teasing hint to it, her hands pulling her shirt over her head to reveal her bra-covered chest. The black lace falls from her body quickly, her patience running thin as she's just as turned on as you are, revealing her breasts.

Perfection is the only word that comes to mind when she reveals her body to you once more, the image of her through the window haunting all your thoughts prior to this meeting.

She seems to give up on her plan of strip teasing you, shrugging her remaining clothes off in record time before climbing back on top of your body. You could see the wetness between her thighs, glistening in the light as she moved her fingers to swipe through her dripping folds, moaning at the small touch.

"I'm going to use this pretty face of yours however I want," she simply smirks down at you, turning around so her hands could move down your body, ready to punish you for not listening. "And you're going to be a good girl and not come until I say so, isn't that right?" she asks while hovering her core over your mouth, your eyes glued to the slick dripping down her inner thighs, covered in her arousal.

Don't test my patience Detka.

"Isn't that right?" Her hand reaches behind to give a tug on your hair, a small whimper escaping you.

"Yes."

"Yes what?" She lets her hands move to near your core, nails scratching your inner thighs.

"Yes, I won't come until you let me," you sigh out, a satisfied look engraved onto her face.

"Good girl," she praises before lowering her hips, sitting on your face. Your tongue moves as best as it can to lick at her clit, your hands hesitantly going to hold her hips softly. When she doesn't say anything, you deem it's ok and continue trying to make it up to her, hands resting on her soft skin.

Your tongue slides through her arousal, a deep groan escaping you at the taste of her, your brain fogged with the thought of her. You would argue this, this animalistic desperation consuming her as she ruts against your face, is better than any release you could imagine. The moans that spill from her lips, the sound muffled by her thighs tightly wrapped around your head, as she grinds and grinds and grinds against your face unabashedly, it's the only thing you'll ever need.

"Fuck, that's it Detka, just like that," she moans out wantonly, her fingers finally making contact with your core, her other hand bracing herself on your thigh, nails leaving small crescent marks.

You moan into her core, hips twitching as you slide your tongue inside her, groaning at the way her walls clench hard around you.

When her fingers meet your soaked core, she isn't soft or gentle with you, thrusting two fingers straight inside you and encouraging you to fuck her harder.

You slide your tongue out, flattening it for her to ride on to which she does so beautifully. Back and forth, back and forth she pushes her hips, practically coating your face in her slick as she pounds her fingers into you, curling them to send pleasure crashing through your body.

You're close already and she knows it, still unrelenting with her brutal pace as she fucks you like she you're nothing but a toy, something for her to use whenever she wants.

"Don't you fucking dare come," she grits out when feeling your body tremble under her. You whimper and whine into her core, ignoring your pleas as she continues to move against you.

"I'm so close," she pants out and you refuse to move as her hips come to stop on your tongue, body shuddering against you. It's messy as she rolls against your face, her come dripping onto your tongue as she lets out a guttural moan, legs shaking against the side of your head.

"Fuck," she says in a heavy breath, lifting her hips off your face and looking down to see you covered in her arousal, an astonished look on your face at what just happened. "You did so good," she sighs out breathlessly, a glint of pride flickering in your eyes as you just did that. You just made her come that hard. "Come whenever you want Detka," she murmurs, moving her body so that her mouth was now at your core.

Her tongue licks a broad stripe up against your core, eyes rolling back when she sucks on your clit roughly, hands holding your legs open. You pant, moan, whimper and whine her name, body trembling under her touch as she drives you towards what you so desperately need and want. Wanda flicks her tongue against your clit, eyes peering up at you and watching how your muscles twitch at her actions, deciding she wanted to hear you scream.

Her pace is brutal, fingers sliding in with ease once more before pulling out and slamming back in, her mouth sucking on your clit while your back arches off the bed. You scream just like she wanted, the lewd noise ripped from the back of your throat as your hands rushed down to grab her hair. She lets it slide, just this once, as she can feel you spasming around her fingers, your come flooding around them and coating them as another guttural noise is torn out of you, body shaking with pleasure.

"Wanda," you whimper when it becomes too much, her reluctantly leaving you, giving you one last lick to make you twitch before crawling up your body and kissing you softly. She notices the tears that have spilt down your cheeks, another whimper leaving you at her tenderness.

"Oh Detka, my beautiful girl," she whispers, soothing you as you move into her embrace, body overstimulated and overwhelmed by everything. "I've got you, I'm all you need," she coos, letting you calm down in her arms, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead before tilting her head down to look at your closed eyes, a dangerous smirk pulling at her lips.

I'm all you'll ever need.

***

The sound of the front door opening and closing is unknown to you, too consumed in your thoughts as you stare at the ink on the pages of your book. You have read this paragraph at least four times, not once has it comprehended in your mind as it refuses to focus on anything but Wanda.

You're taken back to your morning with her, remembering the way she comforted you after your....activities, most likely leaving you to sleep as your body craved it. A subconscious smile sneaks onto your face when recalling her words 'Oh Detka, my beautiful girl, I've got you.'

"What are you smiling at?" Natasha chuckles while walking into the living room, an ethereal look to her as she brushes her red hair back with her hand, a few strands falling and framing her face. You're surprised by her voice, eyes widening and a blush forming on your cheeks at what you were actually thinking about, shrugging your shoulders to dismiss her.

"Oh nothing," you lie, surprised by how you didn't seem to feel as guilty as you thought you would. Of course there was a pang of guilt that flooded through your body but you just thought about how amazing your time with the older woman was, repeating her words of 'You know I'd never let anything happen to you' to keep you grounded.

She assumes it was something in your book as you flip the page, teeth nibbling on your lower lip to stop the smile from stretching as your girlfriend moves within your home, most likely getting relaxed and comfortable after a long day of work.

When she returned, she noticed you had closed your book and switched the tv on, flicking between the different channels until you found something you liked.

"How was your day my love?" she asks while moving to sit on the sofa next to you, letting her head rest on your shoulder while her body presses into yours.

"Nothing special," you say lightly, leaving a random channel on and turning your attention to the woman next to you. "The bookstore was quiet today," technically, you weren't lying about your shop not being busy, having opened the shop in the afternoon for a couple of hours to see if anyone wanted to come in.

She hums in response, letting out a deep sigh as she cuddles further into your side, looking into your eyes with nothing but love.

"Fury wants me to go on another business trip," she whispers, knowing how much you hate it when she leaves. Natasha hates it too, not being too keen on being away from you for so long. "I have to leave tomorrow," your eyes widen at how soon, sadness filling you at the thought of being alone before someone else pops into your mind, the idea of Natasha leaving not being as annoying or disappointing as before.

"Tomorrow?" you say, shocked at how soon she would have to leave.

"I know it's not ideal love but it's a really big deal for us," she tries to explain to you the importance, pausing when you interrupt her.

"It's ok Nat," your tone genuine as you whisper to her, moving your body so you could cup her cheeks and look into her emerald eyes. "I know how much you love your job so, if it's important, then it's ok if you need to go."

"I don't want to go sometimes though," she grumbles, hiding her face in your neck as she moves forwards, swinging her legs over yours as she sits in your lap. "I'd rather be with you."

A soft chuckle spills from your lips when she starts to grumble about her co-worker Sam Wilson, she loved that man but oh does he annoy her sometimes. Spending the next few days with him compared to you was nothing but annoying to the redhead.

You just let her stay in your lap, your hands gliding up and down her back comfortingly as the stress flows from her body. Her hands wrap around your body as she relaxes in your embrace, a soft sigh spilling from her lips as she closes her eyes, savouring the peaceful atmosphere that had taken over the room.

It's moments like this where you appreciate each other. It's rare for Natasha to be on the receiving end like this of all the attention, but that's what makes it special to you. To her, she's just glad she has found someone to feel safe with, someone who loves her as much as she loves you.

If only she knew.

***

Zoning out, your eyes were transfixed on a random book sitting on the shelf, the spine of the book sticking out a little further than the others, needing to be pushed in a little. You would have gone to fix it but it seemed pointless as some other customer would most likely fix it for you or mess up the neat row of books again. Instead, you let your thoughts drift while a small old man slowly made his way around a shelf containing non-fiction books about trains, not too scared of him running off with a book without paying.

Natasha's departure this morning invaded your thoughts, the way she woke you up with soft kisses around your face to wake you up, making sure you wouldn't be late to open the book shop. When you opened your eyes, you chuckled at the stark contrast between you, her prestige and formal suit perfectly accentuating her toned body while you were sprawled out in bed, only wearing her shirt. She reluctantly said goodbye to you, having to catch a plane within the next few hours while you watched her leave from the window, waving to her car as she reversed out before catching Wanda's stare through the window.

Her hands were wrapped around a cup of coffee as she stood in her dressing gown, her head tilting curiously at you before leaving, presumably at the sound of her children.

You snapped back to reality when the sweet old man came up to the counter, presenting to you the book he had chosen. You offered him a kind smile, listening intently to what he was saying to you, sharing his interest in steam trains with you. You entertained him, smiling at how happy he was at talking to someone about his passion before bagging up his purchase and wishing him a good day. The bell at the door jingled when he left, leaving you all alone in the store once again to your thoughts.

They swiftly travelled towards your neighbour, planning on how you would ask to see her again as Natasha was out of town until Thursday. That gave you two days to see the other woman.

Coincidentally, the bell chimed once more, the woman you were just thinking of entering your store with a curious expression written on her face. You glanced at her every minute or so, watching as she casually strolled down each of the aisles, taking her time looking around your shop.

Wanda had watched you many times through the windows, sitting in the small little Eternals café across the road as she witnessed the events of your days, but she had never actually been inside. She let out a small laugh at the little decorations around the small shop, noticing how this place was just so you.

You're so cute, Dorogaya, so adorable.

Picking up the courage, you walked up to the older woman, clearing your throat nervously, planning on how to ask her to meet you in the motel again.

"Hi," was all you managed to say, her striking eyes staring right through you, a blush quickly forming on your cheeks. Images of your shared time together filtered through your mind, eyes darkening a little as she waited for you to continue. "I was, um, thinking that..."

That's it Dekta, come on, you can ask. Tell me you want to see me again.

"Well, Natasha has gone out of town for the next two days so I was wondering if maybe- if you're not busy- you wanted to meet at the motel again?" there was a clear timidness to your tone. Wanda simply smiled in response, moving closer to you with a teasing smirk toying at her lips.

You want me. Me, not her. Me.

"That sounds perfect Detka," she whispers lowly, her eyes flickering down to your lips. "I can't do tonight though," she notices the disappointment on your face, letting her hand cup your cheek softly.

Already so dependent on me...

"I'll make it up to you tomorrow Dorogaya, don't worry," she purrs, your breath hitching at her tone.

"Tomorrow," you sigh out in confirmation, biting your lip to hide your smile.

"Tomorrow." she repeats and you can already imagine the possible ways the night could go.

She soon starts to make her way around the shop again, not interested in buying anything as she only came in to see you. Before she leaves though, she walks up behind you as you restock a shelf, her body pressed into the back of yours. Her hand moves to your stomach, travelling lower while her mouth moves to your ear. "Don't even think about touching yourself tonight Detka," she rasps out, a breathy moan escaping you as she slides her hand under your dress, hand brushing against your panties. "This," she emphasises what she means by cupping your core, your heart beating wildly in your chest. "This is mine now, only I get to play with it," she kisses your neck sensually, smirking against the skin at the needy whine that escapes you, "Do you understand?"

"Yes," you sigh out, letting your head lean back against her body.

"Good girl," she praises and you love it when she calls you that. "I'll see you tomorrow Detka."

After that, her body slips away from yours, leaving you a mess against the wooden shelf. Alone and desperate for her touch.

***

After tucking in the twins, Wanda closed the door quietly, leaning against it and sighing. Her eyes fluttered closed, her body relaxing against the door as she could finally have some quiet time. Tommy decided that tonight was the perfect time to tease and annoy Billy, resulting in many arguments and a very fed up Wanda. She just wanted something to cheer her up.

The thought of you crossed her mind, her body naturally making its way to her room, standing in front of the window and looking for you. Your body tossed in the bed, a frustrated look on your face as you throw your head back in annoyance. Wanda's head tilted inquisitively, observing your form laying down. She enjoyed watching you alone as it was soothing to her, knowing your routine of what you would do when Natasha would leave. Wanda knew how you tended to care for yourself when she left, normally reaching into the nightstand to retrieve the red vibrator and letting yourself go but tonight you were conflicted.

Be a good girl Detka, don't make me punish you tomorrow.

Your head turned to the nightstand, staring at it longingly as Wanda assumed you wanted to ease the burning sensation between your legs. Her body walked closer to the window, wanting to get a better view of you as your mind desperately tried to make a choice of what to do.

Anger but also excitement flooded through her body when you reached into the draw, pulling out the familiar toy before shrugging your pyjama pants and panties off, letting your fingers run through your dripping folds.

Oh Dorogaya, all you had to do was listen.

Attentively, Wanda watched your head loll back against the soft sheets, your mouth parting into a moan when the toy met your core. You wasted no time in turning the settings up high, a feral and desperate desire to come seemingly taking over your body. Your back arched off the bed, free hand groping your chest through your thin t-shirt, Wanda's jaw clenching at the sight of you.

Her eyes widened when she read your lips, her name falling off them repeatedly as your hips bucked, legs shaking. Your eyes squeezed shut, mouth parting for a guttural moan as your body twitched, your orgasm quickly approaching causing arousal to pool between the older woman's thighs, her body craving to feel you against her again.

When your orgasm crashed through your body, a different name for Wanda was moaned out, your body shaking at the intensity of it while she just cursed under her breath.

Oh fuck.

A wave of arousal rushed through her at what you moaned, a sinister plan forming in her head of how she was going to punish you for your bad behaviour. 

Mommy will teach you how to behave Detka. 

---

I hope you enjoyed :)

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes <3 I love reading all your comments! 

AO3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

#smut #wanda fanfic #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #wanda maximoff #marvel fanfiction #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha #natasha x reader #rough smut #wanda smut #dom women #dom wanda maximoff #sub reader #dom/sub

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Handle it

February Filth Fest : Day Six

Jeong Yunho x fem reader

a/n: this photo has me in a CHOKEHOLD I HAD TO WRITE SOMETHING ABOUT IT

"C'mon, cry for me."

(>ᴗ•)genre:

smut w/a little plot, smidge of angst

ಠ_ಠwarning/contents:

not edited, dacryphilia, fighter yunho, established relationship, reader in a dress, (a)non-sexy slap, pet names (baby,yuyu&angel,honey), semi-public, manhandling, fingering, make out, praise, unprotected(👎), forehead touches(👍)

tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle

SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI

You storm into the locker room, uncaring of the men who give you strange stares and make your way to the familiar mop of damp hair. "Jeong Yunho!" He sits up straight as he hears your voice, closing the cap of his water bottle. "Hey, I'm talking to you, dick face!"

Other men in the room let out various 'ooh's as you push your boyfriends shoulder. He barely moves, but it's the thought that goes into it to show him how angry you are. He stands slowly and goes to take his gloves off when you slap him across the face.

"Damn!" A fellow fighter exclaims. You point at him with a death stare, silently saying: 'watch it, or you're next.'

"Honey..." Yunho starts.

"Don't 'Honey...' me! I'm about to whoop your ass! You are such an idiot, Yunho. You know that? You know you're a fucking dumba-" It's his turn to cut you off, grabbing you up by your waist and carrying you over his shoulder. He carries you, screaming, all the way to showers.

He scans the room and when he finds it empty, he locks the door and lowers you down.

You let your angry facade fall, tears quickly building up as you look up at him. "Did he hurt you? It really looked like he hurt you and I told you the next time you let someone mess you up that I oug-"

"I'm ok. I promise." He helps you sit on one of the metal benches, squatting down in-front of you, placing his chin in his hands and looking up at you. "I promise."

There's a moment of pause before you begin ranting again, tears falling quickly. "Well, are you sure? It looked like he hit you really hard, and you were coughing so hard you could barely take him down and I just want to make sure. Maybe I should make you an appointment with-"

"Honey," he uses his teeth to release the velcro on one of his gloves and shakes it off, cupping you face in the next second. "It's just a bruise."

"Let me see."

"I-"

"Let me see it. It's just a bruise, right?"

He stands, letting you take his other glove off as he lifts his shirt slowly. You hold his hand gently as he whines, looking up at him in worry. "My poor Baby," you whisper.

"You can't even see it, Angel."

"You want me to kill him? I can sneak attack real well."

He lifts his shirt just above his rib cage, exposing the forming bruise over it. It's red and angry, surrounded by older bruises. Tears free fall down your face, and he wipes them away. "Yunho, you're going to get really hurt one day."

"I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

You lean forward slowly and graze your lips over his wound, making him shiver. No matter how many times you 'kiss it better', he falls head over heels all over again ever time. "Did it crack?" You ask before leaving another ghost of a kiss, hands finding purchase on his hips.

He shakes his head, hand weaving into your hair as you kiss around it. "I'm okay, Honey. Really. I promised you I would tell you if I got hurt like that again. I'm gonna keep that promise."

He doesn't know what it is. Your kisses, light as feathers? Your words, so caring and full of love? Your tears, warm as they drop into his exposed leg? His body, full of left over adrenaline?

Whatever it is- he's slowly becoming hard.

As you look up, tears full of tears and glazed over with concern, he determines that it's all of the above.

"Y'know, he got a few licks in on my face. Gonna kiss that better too?"

You tug him down and crawl over his lap, laughing lightly as you feel his bulge under his fight shorts. "How many times is this gonna happen, Baby? You can't keep fucking me in the shower room."

"Why not?" He smirks, hands roaming up and down your back. "You never seem to complain, especially when you're creaming on my cock."

"Yunho!" You slap his arm with a gasp.

"Oh, c'mon," he laughs with his head back, "like that's the worst thing I've said about you on my dick."

You cut him off with your lips on his, moaning as you grind down on his lap. You lick at his lips, pulling away with a devilish smile as he opens his mouth.

His eyes still closed, he holds your forehead to his as you both breath heavily. "You trying to get back at me?"

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"Maybe." He opens his eyes and meets yours, seeing your tears slowing. "Want to fuck you so bad." He tugs the skirt of your dress up and bundles it up in one of his hands, the other dipping into your panties. "Can I?" He asks as his teases around your entrance.

"Fuck, yeah." You speak before taking his lips in fervent kiss. This time, he opens his mouth immediately. As his fingers ease into you, you take the opportunity and explore his mouth. Even if your done it a million times before: it always leaves your breathless. You lick over his teeth before pulling away, bringing his lower lip with you briefly. "C'mon, go faster, Baby. I can handle it."

"You sure?" When you nod, his finger increase their speed ten-fold. You bite into his shirt to block your moans, knowing all too well these walls are not sound proof. His fingers scissor around inside you, stretching you out deliciously. He lets your long dress fall down around your hips, using the previously occupied hand to pull your head away from his neck roughly and making you face him. He brings you impossibly close, his head against yours and your air becoming the same. "You take it so good, don't you? Feels so good?"

"Yes, Yuyu, feels so good," you whimper quietly, to his dismay. He brings his fingers together and curls them right up on your g-spot, making you cry out. He smirks as you bite down on your lip, fresh tears brewing in your eyes.

"C'mon, cry for me." You do, tears falling quickly as he asuslts your g-spot relentlessly. "Always so fucking pretty like this. So fucked out that all you can do is cry. My sensitive Angel."

"Yun-Yunho, stop." His fingers still inside of you, holding your face impossibly closer. Before he can even question you, you speak between your deep breaths. "I want you to fuck me already."

He lifts you up with one arm under your ass and the other around your head to protect it as he pushes you onto the tile wall. "So needy," he moans out as he tears your underwear away. In no time at all, he's sliding himself into you, whining into your neck as your warmth engulfs him. He stills inside of you to give you time to adjust, but you're having none of that.

"Jesus, Yunho," you pant, wrapping your legs around his hips and leaning you head into his shoulder. "Fuck me already, fuck me good and hard. I can handle it."

He doesn't take your words with a grain of salt, he starts hard and fast, licking up your tears and moaning at the salty taste. Neither of you bother to hide your moans, loud and proud of how good he's fucking you. "Goddamn," he purrs, "always like a fucking dream."

His words only make you louder, clenching around him like a vice as your orgasm hits you unexpectedly. "Yunho, Yunho, god! Fuck! Baby, please don't stop!" He doesn't, his hips keep a steady, ruthless rhythm as he kisses up every tear that slips past your waterline. "Good fucking god. Good god, Yunho!"

"That's it, Angel." He praises as his hips slow, "so good for me." He pressed his body up against your to hold you in place, hands slipping around you and holding you just under your ribs, rubbing slow circles as you descend back to Earth. "You're so beautiful," he says softly, licking up your hot, salty cheek. "So precious," he repeats with the other. Your death grip on his shoulders lowers to a soft embrace as your body shakes from after shocks.

Wordlessly, his hips pick up speed again. "Ah! Please, sensitive... Sensitive, Baby."

He coos, leaning down and kissing you before speaking with a smirk.

"I thought you could handle it?" He slams his hips into yours, holding you close. "Can't you, Angel?"

"Yes, yes, I can take it! I can take it, Yuyu," you wrap your fingers in the back of his hair to ground yourself as he sets a deep and erratic pace. "I can, Baby, don't stop!"

"Good, I'm gonna make you fucking squirt this time."

#february filth fest #jeong yunho #yunho #ateez yunho #ateez #yunho smut #ateez smut #smut fic #fanfic

[siriusleee]

i'd imagine i don't fit into your view

a/n: this is really just my attempt at using different prompts as a way to write when I'm bored and they all take place in the same universe find the other drabbles in this series here

This is the last place he expects to see her - some run-down fuckin pub in the middle of Ireland. The place is packed, bodies pressed against each other, beers held high to avoid getting spilled.

She looks different - of course she does it’s been years - but he knows it’s her. Her hair is longer, longer than she used to ever be comfortable with, and she’s dressed differently than he’d ever seen her dressed: in a tight dress with the back open, a trace of ink peeping out at her rib cage.

Beside him Johnny is speaking - something about being ready to get a fucking break from Price and his overbearing training - but Simon can’t pull his attention away from her to give Johnny any attention.

When she moves through the crowd, he moves with her. He hears himself tell Johnny something about grabbing a drink. She slips through the crowd easily, turning to laugh at something someone says to her. His heart is beating so fucking loud in his ears he can’t hear the shitty music playing over the speakers, can’t hear Johnny shouting after him -y’ok Ghost?- he can’t focus on anything other than trying to figure out why she’s here of all places.

He nearly loses her as she slips out the door, a black coat slinging over her shoulders. The sidewalk is nearly empty as she walks- there’s a voice inside his head screaming for him to turn around, to go back to the bar, to forget her. He remembers the way she looked at him the last time he saw her - broken and angry - and knows that no good can come from following her, from seeing where she’s going.

But his feet don’t listen to his brain as he tails her. She never looks back once, never worried that someone might be behind her. She turns left, turning into a dark staircase that goes overtop a set of shops. Simon lingers on the street, eyes scanning, looking for a sign of life on the second story, for something - there. A light comes on in the flat upstairs. He’s not sure how long he stands there, waiting, watching as the light flips off. It must be hours before his feet move, his boots heavy on the wooden staircase that feels as if it’ll turn to a pile of match sticks beneath his feet.

The staircase dead-ends at the door. He thinks about knocking; thinks about what she might say if she opened the door, if she would even recognize him under the mask and layers of Ghost over Simon - layers that she’d never seen before. His hand rests on the door before a horrifying thought strikes him: what if she’s not alone in there?

He doesn’t think before he tries the doorknob; it turns easily beneath his hand, the door swinging open with a quiet snick. His feet are silent on the carpet - the room is lit up with the light filtering through the window. It’s clean, but not tidy - everything is thrown around everywhere. Across the room is an open bedroom door, his feet carry him silently across the room.

A picture on the wall stops him in his tracks. It’s the two of them - taken when he was on leave his first few years in the military. They’d gone to some stupid carnival in town and she’d kissed him for the first time, her mouth sticky with cotton candy - some stranger had taken the photo for them on a film camera she’d carried with her everywhere back then. Simon can’t remember when they took the picture, but they couldn’t have been older than seventeen.

Underneath it another photo of the two of them - Simon in his dress uniform, a fresh-faced soldier on his graduation day from the academy - her beaming beside him, their hands interlaced. She’d been the only person sober enough or who cared enough to show up for him even though it had drained everything in her bank account to be able to afford to come. Simon traces his fingers over the photo, over his face. He can’t remember the last time he took a picture without the mask on.

The sound of stirring from the bedroom pulls him out of his reverie. The sound of bedsheets moving, a stir in the tranquil bubble of her house. The sound rips through Simon - what the fuck is he doing here, in her house and she doesn’t even know it. Shame burns through him, and he backpedals across the living room, slipping out of the front door. Before he leaves, he turns the lock so the door locks as it swings shut behind him.

His ears are roaring with the shame of being a fucking creep - intruding on her personal space without even letting her know he had seen her. He’s rattled on his way back to the hotel, his hands shaking around the cigarettes in his jacket.

#ghost cod x you #ghost cod x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod fic #simon 'ghost' riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley #my fics

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #10: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our map: The Isle

[You can use the links above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle. On the map, you are currently at 3.]

Now, back to the adventure!

[Our most one-sided poll yet! It turns out when you give most people the option of going down into a mysterious hole, even if it may not be the safest/smartest option, they just can't help themselves! I'm excited to see how this goes! Onward!]

You look back down the stone shaft. After that fight with the fisherman monk, the idea of the monastery weighs on you. There are many more men in there. Men are unpredictable. Even if they lived up to their supposedly godly nature and granted you access or even a place to rest between now and the return of the ship from the mainland, they'd undoubtedly have questions. They could find the body in the cove. They could find the disturbed graves. No, best to check for other ways first before you breach that place.

You securely anchor the grappling hook and silk rope, lowering it down into the shaft. The birds continue to caw and flap their wings at you from the nearby edges of the stone formation. You take one last look across the Isle and descend down into the shaft.

The tunnel itself is rough on the edges, angled and wide enough to climb without the rope but it would be a considerable, possibly dangerous effect. You are happy to have found that odd grave. Thankful to the woman who planned better than you before she came to this place.

The further you descend the more the darkness surrounds you and the less the sunlight from far above is able to reach you. All around you, the rock thrums with the constant crashing of the waves. You are deep within the isle now, and its heart beats all around you.

You're feet touch down on flat ground and you let go of the rope. You turn and have to crouch, looking out from under what appears to be a mantle, soot at your feet. You are in a fireplace, unused for years— maybe centuries. What little light is left here spills out across the room.

Leeches cling to 5 [2d6 roll: 5] skeletons, their bones a strange blackish blue are stained in swirling patterns and writhing with leeches that glisten in the little light. Beards still hang from their skulls. Several spears and swords rest among them. They writhe slowly in place.

At their center, you see another skeleton. A shock of white, nearly glowing hair hanging from its head. Leeches crawl inside its rib cage. A slew of golden rings hang from its bony fingers, rattling as its slowly moves. As its mouth opens, the squealing of the leeches—all of them—form a single voice.

"Well, now... I was not expecting you, but I am not one to turn away guests of any kind, be they invited or not. Come, rest here after your descent."

The few leeches in the center of the room crawl back in the skeletons direction, as if clearing space for you to sit.

"I am Fionn Ó Ceannaigh, and I am the rightful ruler of a land far from here. You need not fear me. You are free to leave, of course. Out there." He gestures towards the shadow of a doorway across the room. Beyond its frame is nothing but pitch black darkness. "But that is my fireplace and my chimney. If you wish to use it again, let us make a deal. I believe we may work together, if you would be so kind. But first, tell me of your troubles. Tell me why you are here."

You take a deep breathe and wonder if the monks really could have been any worse.

[EDIT: The second to last option in this poll should read "Cast Teleport (19/20 chance of success) and flee back to the surface." Sorry for the typo!]

[We are really in it now! From the relative calm of the Isle's surface to the hidden horrors deep below ground. I'm excited to see what y'all choose and how it all starts to play out next week.]

[As always, if you'd like to see Medon do something that is not listed as part of the poll, please reblog or leave a comment with your idea. If enough folks feel the same way, they will be considered similarly to the poll options. If there's a glaring oversight on my part too, I'll be sure to address that. - Christian]

EDIT: Play-By-Blog #11 is live now!

#meatcastle pbb #ttrpg #indie ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #luke gearing #play by blog #play by post #the isle #fantasy #polls #choose your own adventure

[philliamwrites]

A scene where reader gives Jean a big hug- jealous eren level 300 activated . It be even worse if reader does it on purpose to test erens feelings for her

MORE VIOLENCE

now you've done it.

here's a snippet i didn't want to share for the LONGEST time for SPOILER reasons, but now you get it.

Jean looks up at you. “Your turn.” You’ve thought long about it. Now, you move over to the bed and lie before him. Hooking your finger under the hem of your shirt, you slowly pull it up, maintaining eye contact with him. Jean is very still. From across the room, you can hear Eren take in a sharp breath. “I want it on my ribs,” you say, staring up at the ceiling. You can feel your body go hard as a board in anticipation of the pain. “Relax,” Jean mumbles. His wide hand splays over your skin, pulling it taut to get an even surface. You exhale, and try not to think too much how your skin prickles from his touch, your heartbeat beneath your ribs like a bird fluttering in a cage. When he goes to work, you try to lay very still, your eyes gently pressed shut. Jean doesn’t say anything more, getting into the rhythm of the work. He brushes the ink and blood away, leaning closer. He wipes and pricks and wipes and pricks until the very last stroke. Then, when it’s over and you open your eyes, you see Jean bowing his head against your side, his eyes half-shut. You feel the urge to push your fingers through his hair for a moment—just like Ida used to do to calm him down. The moment breaks when the door falls shut with a bang, and when you turn, you don’t see Eren in the room anymore.

have fun digesting that

(they're getting tattoos but i'm not gonna tell you what it is lmao that's gonna be a heartbreak for another time)

#the build up to that scene is SO FUN #bcs armin is the first to get one and he's like “ahhhh stop jean” and it sounds as though they're fucking lmao #i love this scene so much #phill.ask #phill.swyaatl #eren x reader #eren x you #eren x y/n #jean x reader #jean x you #jean x y/n #aot x reader #sweet anons

[missamyrisa2]

Hello, missamyrisa. I'd just like to say i adore your stories. I always get so flustered and squirmy. Also, i have a question: What is this little ribbie?

Sooo I've had a few notes about this ~

"Have you never played this little ribbie?~ awwwe, poor cutie pie ~ let me show you, let's have some fun. Lay back now, and arms up my darling. Now, this miiiight tickle a little~ We start hereee ~" My fingers wiggle in the air ascending to your collar thoughtfully as I plop into your lap. Purpley nails dance and stroke down from the bottom of your neck as I purse my lips and flash you a sassy, knowing grin. "These little ribbies hide safely~" I trace around your collarbones with loving grasps "And enjoy kisses from Miss Amy" leaning in to plant tiny kissies from side to side ~ as I brush my lips downward to the next pair, you hear footfalls approaching. "Oh don't worry, that's just my scribe~ I like to document whenever I play this little ribbie~" Sultry eyes with a flash of curious contempt look down under dark lashes to your wiggling blushy form as a masked assistant in a white nurse's jacket scratches away with a pen on a clipboard right by your ears.

"This little ribbie is a lefty ~ this little ribbie cares not~" My probing fingertip strokes from one side to the other of your upper chest. "These little ribbies wish for quieter neighbors in the ribbiehood" Two fingertips drag inward, nails grazing carefully on the lines while my note taker leans in to record your reactions. "This little ribbie likes the giggles ~" One fingernail swipes down and outward. "Thiiiiis little ribbie loves to wiggle~" the other follows, my fingers now dancing in alternate patterns as I snicker down at you. "Keep those arms up sugarplum, or we start all over~" I tauntingly hold at the outside of your ribcage, nodding assuring and lightly dancing fingertips at my resting spot. "Tick tick ticka ticka" I murmur as you fail to steel yourself to the next round.

"Thissss little ribbie likes to tell jokes ~" I give the next rib an extra long loving slow touch as each round opens more tickle spots. "And thiiis little ribbie loves the laughs~" I work alternate touches on each, little pinches on the right side, loving strokes across the other ~ and then switch. Scratch scratch scratch goes the notes as your reactions are observed carefully. My voice starts to get squeakier and squeakier as we move down. I bounce playfully on your lap, watching with adoring smiles ~ "Thiiiis wiiidle wiibbie wuuuuvs when we babytalk ~ and thiiiis one does tooo~" I follow your squirms and coo at your blushing, lingering and doting over each line of ticklishness ~ I flash a knowing smirk to my scribe and my tone suddenly shifts as I lean down. The sassy silly girly squeaks are replaced with a seductive sexy purr ~ "Mmmmmh. Thiiis little rib. This one right here. On your ticklish body, your helpless wiggling giggling body that takes every tickle I give and asks for more~" I muah with my lips, leaning down and steading your upper body with my hands planting a line of kisses from left to right as we get further on your chest and over to those royal buttons. "These little ribbies hold delightful royal prizes. Unnh. Nice ticklish ribs. Beautiful sensitive buttons~" The pen writes notes rapidly, my hands hold your rib cage lovingly, my lower lip drags slowly across occasionally pausing to give loving lingering kisses on the hot spots.

"These little ribbies are jealous of your royal buttons mmmhmmm~ yeaa~ your buttons~" I nod and grin, tracing the next set with my nails while my lips return downward, floating right to a nipple for a capture and relentless barrage of hugs between them ~ holding your button snugly and rolling it around on those purpley pillowy lips. My fingers skitter on the ribs below, back and forth and then drop down another row. "Thissss little ribbie is a giggle glutton ~" I murmur through my nipply kisses and licks. "This little ribbie doesn't want to mmmh get none?" I snicker, switching from one button to the other, pausing my progress to gently grasp at your chest and hold your nipples steady to rain down loving kissies between playful flicks of my index fingers~

"Thissss little wibbie ribbie dibbie~ oooh? What's that? I did this one already?" I balk, hands on my hips. My notetaker rolls back through pages of handwritten documentation of your reactions and ticklishness, shrugging. My fingers idly trace, I thoughtfully look around your pinkened wiggling upper body, lined with tingly purple lip prints. "Are you suuuure? Yeaahh? I did huh? A little ribbie repeat? This little ribbieeee is a rrrrepeat?" I taunt and playfully wiggle nails on that set, bouncing on your lap with your giggles. "Well bother ~" I look into the distance, twirling one of my long locks. "I suppose ~ I think ~ we'll just tickle them all~!" I giggle softly before snapping to attack, easily pushing your arms back when you move to block my ingress, lips brushing wildly up one side of your ribcage while a hand dances on the other side. I cascade up the bumps of each rib, pause to tease your underarms before going back for more. "Tickle tickle tickle~ Ticklish ribbies hereeee and heree ooooh~! and right here!" I sneak wiggly naughty tickles at your royal buttons, fingers attacking from left and right in that same pattern going around each curve lovingly. "Awwwe it's okay sugarloaf ~ my little giggly jellybean ~ wanna know a secret?" I lean in and catch your earlobe between my lips before whispering ~ "we never finish this little ribbie ~" I cackle and snap my fingers~ my assistant moves to action and catches your flailing arms, clicking them into padded restraints and moves at a bouncy pace to secure your ankles into similar cuffs.

And with a flash of my own blush, I toss aside my top and lean in, still on your lap to let my own ribs and buttons brush on yours. "Now we share some lovely tickles my sweetheart~" My assistant is upon on us now, hands reaching out to play this tickle sandwich with dark nails grazing your ribs, then mine as I bury my lips into your neck giggling and kissing~ our royal buttons hugging all through~

#tickletease #miss amy's tickle teases

[snowberry33]

haze.

Rating: E

Kayn/Akali -- 1,799 words, 1/1 chapters (oneshot)

Warnings/tags: established relationship, porn without plot, fluff and smut, porn with feelings, praise kink, oral sex, vaginal sex, not canon compliant, creampie

“Can I not appreciate my woman?”

“You, specifically? Not without a motive.”

“Oh, and what possible motive could I have?”

A peek into the morning of two twenty-something-year-olds in love. Certainly this will be entirely safe for work. For sure.

AO3 LINK

Akali wakes the same as she does most mornings, with Kayn’s body pressed against her back, his palm massaging the firm muscle of her biceps. She relaxes under the touch, and she lets out a comfortable sigh as he kisses her shoulder blades repeatedly. Chaste and gentle at first, increasing in passion until he’s nipping and sucking at the smooth skin.

An amused grin spreads across her face as she reaches around to tangle her fingers in his hair. “What are you doing?”

“Can I not appreciate my woman?” Kayn muses, pressing another long smooch to her shoulder.

“You, specifically?” she chuckles as his lips continue to travel the expanse of her back and wander to her neck, causing her next words to get caught on their way out. “Not without a motive.”

“Oh, and what possible motive could I have?”

The question proves to be rhetorical as his hand curls around her midriff to press her against him and his teeth graze her ear. Instead of answering, Akali gasps quietly at the gesture and lets herself relax into him; his touch, his kisses, both growing hungrier by the second. Her fingers slide over the rough clawed ones that dig lightly into her rib cage—sure to leave marks later, but she pays no mind to that fact when she’s pressing herself into him, encouraging him to grasp her tighter and let the warmth overcome them both.

It becomes clear that neither of them is going anywhere when Akali twists herself to pull Kayn and kisses him, and they melt together as they both adjust to fit against the other. Kayn’s hand shifts from its position on her waist over her stomach, giving him the leverage to crawl over and straddle her. The hot breath and pleased sighs exchanged between them lights a fire in Akali’s gut that flows when Kayn slips his fingertips under her top, waiting for approval before he continues.

And she gives it to him when she untangles her arms from him, only to pull the article over her head and discard it to the side. He draws away from her mouth, his lip catching between her teeth, to give his attention to her bare chest. She combs her hands through his hair while he peppers kisses over the newly exposed space, drawing soft gasps and sighs from her rosy lips.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against her skin. Akali looks down to see his face buried in the valley between her breasts, donning a smug-as-ever smile as his thumb runs over her nipple. “Getting so red…so cute…”

She scoffs out a laugh. Now that she’s looking, he’s right; her skin has flushed into a notable pinkish-red color—even more now that he’s pointed it out. “Quiet.“

“Hah, don’t tell me you’re getting shy,” he says, pressing a kiss to the underside of her breast.

She rolls her eyes, but she can’t stay annoyed at him for long with his mouth on her nipple and his hand massaging the soft tissue, drawing groans of pleasure from the back of her throat as she lets herself relax into the bedding.

Even with his mouth occupied, he finds the room to tease, breath heating her skin even more. “Mm, I’ve never seen you blush like this. Wonder how far it goes…?”

“Sto-op,” she stutters when he rolls her nipple between his teeth with a low chuckle before making his way down her stomach, running his tongue over her abs. Gasping, she threads her fingers through his hair to encourage his motions. “You’re an ass.”

“You love it,” is all he says, murmured into her pelvis as he nips at the skin there.

Her breathing quickens with every inch he travels downward. Kayn seems to notice, and to revel in her impatience, twirling one finger around the drawstring that holds her pants up. The instant Akali tightens her grip on his hair and pushes his head down, he doesn’t hesitate to get the rest of her clothes off and dip between her legs.

Once he gets down there, he’s unstoppable, holding her thighs open so he can work his tongue in practiced, precise movements that have her gasping in seconds, her grip planted in his thick locks as if anchoring him down.

Kayn grips her waist to steady her convulsions, leaving red marks with his clawed fingers, blending into her flushed skin. She reaches out to wrap her hand around his, grounding herself while her climax builds. If he keeps going at this pace, she’s definitely close.

“Fuck , that’s it. Don’t stop—don’t—” she pants, a ghost from her lips as she throws her head into the pillows.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kayn mutters, his breath hot and heavy on her cunt from his quiet moans. “You taste so good. I could be down here forever.”

The muscles in Akali’s thighs clench and flex while he continues to go down on her, and she sighs through the pleasure. “Careful, I’ll take you up on that–ah! Kayn–!“

She clutches onto him as a loud whine rises from her throat—bingo.

That’s the reaction he aims to recreate, drawing more and more noises from her and bringing her to climax with a harsh shudder, legs clamped around his head.

He doesn’t quit there, of course, no. With the same fervor, he keeps licking and sucking at her clit, unraveling her by the second until she’s a quivering, whimpering mess with only the ability to repeat his name and various curses, and the fist in his hair yanks him back and forces him to stop.

With a hefty sigh, Akali’s body relaxes, falling into the bedding beneath as if deflated. Kayn smiles, satisfied with his work. He rubs at her shaking thighs while she catches her breath and leaves a few kisses there as well, just admiring her.

“How many was that?” he asks. The smug laugh he gives when she holds up four fingers, surrendering her voice, makes her regret feeding his ego. “I can do better.”

“Jeez, are you trying to break me?” she laughs before pulling him up from between her legs and kissing him. The taste of herself is strong on his mouth, but she doesn’t care. It’s almost pleasant, if not just what it implies.

Kayn melts into her embrace, his hands roaming the rest of her frame without aim, intent on nothing but feeling her—every inch of warmth she offers—while he nuzzles closer.

“Are you tired?” he mutters, lips soft against her skin, and curling into a pleased smile when she shakes her head. “Good.”

The gentle press of the tongue on her neck contrasts the grip on her hips, which shifts her over so her backside presses into him and brings his erection to focus. Muted groans rise from Akali’s throat as encouragement for the touch on her body to continue traveling all over her, caressing her thighs, trailing over her stomach, and pinching her nipples all while Kayn grinds in circles in search of some stimulation for himself.

With both of their breath quickening, one of Akali’s hands reaches for the hem of Kayn’s boxers. Instantly, he takes the cue and drags them down just enough to let his cock free to rub against her. She’s still wet so he can slip in with a smooth motion and a low groan with it.

Slowly, holding in place, he thrusts inside her. Teeth graze her neck and shoulder in his attempts to stifle his moans. It’s a pretty sound that fills her ears, and it increases with his pace as he finds a comfortable rhythm for both of them.

“Fuck, Akali,” Kayn heaves, with one hand creeping up her throat and gently cupping her face. “I love how you feel… I love you… so much…”

Her own pleasure comes out quieter, but no less genuine, as shaky breaths that turn to gasps and gentle moans when he fucks her harder. When his fingers circle her already sensitive clit, she’s done for. She cums again, fast, clutching the bedding beneath. If the soft whines in her ear are any sign, Kayn is soon to follow. He just needs a little push.

Hand fisted through his hair, Akali breathes out words of praise in between her pants. “Oh, fuck, Kayn, you make me feel so good. You’re doing amazing, baby.”

That’s all it takes for him to grip her tighter and thrust harder, growing desperate with each movement to chase his release, breath hitching the closer he gets. She can hear every little sound in his throat. Those pretty noises tell her how much he enjoys it when pleasure wins over his voice.

“Fuck… I'm…” he struggles to speak through the shameless moans he’s letting out against her neck, reduced to helpless whining. “Can… Can I cum in—inside, Akali?” 

When he asks so sweetly, so cute, she can’t say no. All she can do is nod, unable to spare enough breath for words anymore, and the precious whines that he makes when he fills her with his cum are musical.

Then they both lay there as one panting, sweaty mess while the high fades. 

Kayn peppers Akali’s neck in soft kisses, trails down her shoulder and back, and simply basks in her presence. Akali grabs the wrist of the hand that held her face and presses a single kiss to the palm, before letting her body settle down into the pillows and sheets with a contented sigh.

“You gonna fall asleep again?” Kayn asks once he’s caught his breath.

Akali’s answer is nothing more than a lazy nod. She’s already closed her eyes as an extra confirmation. He chuckles as he pulls the covers up over them and snuggles up to her, skin against skin. His body is like a blanket on its own, and the shelter of the actual blankets traps their heat into a cozy cocoon of their sexual haze. 

“We should clean up.” Kayn murmurs into Akali’s mass of thick, black hair, smoothing it into less of an unkempt mess with his hand.

“Mhm.”

“Hot bath might be good.”

“Mmm-hm.”

Yet neither of them moves. Neither of them desire to. Just to lie here, slotted together, raw and exposed in this moment, just for them. 

If they get up, they’ll have to face the world before them. Why do that, when you can drift off with the post-orgasm bliss and someone who loves you at your back?

Yeah, exactly.

So that’s what they do instead. At least for a little while, until their responsibilities call for them. 

Then they can start their day off “properly”; with that hot bath Kayn mentioned and some makeshift breakfast, then part ways until it’s time to do it all over again.

#kayn x akali #akali x kayn #league of legends #league of legends fanfic #kayn #akali #smut fanfiction #lol fanfic #pwp #one shot #smut #smut and fluff #snow fics

[silvercrystalwhump]

Ethics

For @whumptober Day 10

No. 10 POOR UNFORTUNATE SOULS: Taser | Whipping | Waterboarding

TW: lab whump, electric shock, unethical experimentation, human experimentation, noncon touch, nudity,

-

Cold metal eats into his skin. His wrists, ankles, and the nap of his neck press into clamps as vices poke and prod at his sides. His consciousness fades in and out of focus, bending and bowing through his eyes. The cold air runs its icy nails across his flesh as it draws kisses into his skin. Travis stretches in his bonds slightly and the metall cards against his chilled skin. The chafs on his hands and feet wine at the suspension.

“This is our current subject,” the Scientists vice pierces through Travis’ haze, “With an active revenant in possession.” Their presenting voice gnaws at his mind like claws sinking into his neck. Travis can feel the eyes on him before the faces crystalize into view. He exhales as his lips crack at the movement.

“How do you know that he is possessed?” One of their students says with chipper curiosity. Every cord stroke of her voice puts stakes through Travis’ joints, rippling pain following.

“It,” The Scientist corrects, “The human is long gone after possession.” He can feel the tut in their voice as they wave at the student.

Travis grimaces. His face twists into a pained scowl as he pulls slightly at his bonds. Wincing with every movement, he presses into the back panel and rolls his shoulders. The air around his throat constricts with every twitch.

“My question still stands,” the student asks again. The curiosity begins to fade slightly and perplexion grows in its wake. Travis watches a few more of the students recoil when he looks at them, jumping back from a contagion. 

The Scientist raises their hand and brushes against Travis’ side. Possessiveness rolls into his thin side as they run their fingertips across his visible rib cage. He shudders and tries to pull away. Throwing himself back, he hisses when the Scientists fingertips press deeper into his skin. Pale bruises already begin to form in their wake.

“Aggression is one of the first signs,” the Scientist says, “and there is a failed reuptake of epinophines in the brain.”

“Cause you stab me asshole,” Travis murmurs.

He watches Travis body shift under their touch again as they run their hand closer to his naval. The Scientist’s glare bores holes into his eyelids as Travis twitches to pull away. His muscles spasm as he reflexes try to kick out at them. The metal protests.

Travis realizes very quickly that he is starkly nude. A dozen people watch his naked body twitch and quakes in his bonds. He closes his eyes and tries to fight the tears of pain filled humiliation. He pulls his hips back and away from the Scientist’s touch. 

“Sir,” one of the students mutters, “He’s still human.”

“It was human, but once a revenant takes hold the human passes,” the Scientist repeats with absolute certainty. “These are just reactions to stimuli.”

“He looks like he disagrees.”

The Scientist’s demeanor goes cold, “It is not human anymore. Referring to it as human is why revenants can successfully consume humans in our society. I understand how difficult it is to detach yourself from your human nature of empathy but you must for the betterment of mankind.”

Travis braces himself as the Scientist pulls away and walks over to a panel. Their hands pull up a screen and Travis watches the hands of the machine press into his wrists. Horror sets in as he finally recognises the device and the gentle poking feeling in his wrists.

“Please,” Travis groans as tears begin to fall, “I’m sorry, please.”

Some of the students recoil and one whips their head around to look at the Scientist, “Is this ethical-”

“It is just trying to appeal to your humanity,” the Scientist scolds, “Do not fall for it.”

A shock rattles through Travis body and he yelps. His spine tingles. He holds his head back into the sheet metal as his muscles tighten. Every fiber in his body tingles as the electricity disecates around him.

Wrythe’s presence fills the back of Travis’ mind and their echoing voice apologizes. Words don’t quite form but the remorse floods his brain regardless. The revenant’s body fills Travis’ as the pain starts to build.

If I could take this pain from you, I would. I’m sorry.

Travis is screaming by the third volt. His mind and his body separate as his spine seizes. Spiderwebs of agony ripple through his ribcage as volts of electricity. He shakes in his bonds as his muscles roar in agony. Banging his head back into the back panel, Travis tries to knock himself out.

“Please,” Travis screams as his vision starts to go white “Stop!”

“Do not be alarmed,” the Scientist says, barely audible over Travis’ screaming, “This is just a reaction to stimuli. Once a certain pain threshold is reached then the revenant will present itself and begin to repair its host.”

One of their students responds.

He falls into darkness before he can process the answer.

#whumptober #whumptober day 10 #whumptober2022 #whump community #whump #travis: the lab rat #lab whump #electric shock #unethical experimentation #human experimentation #noncon touch #nudity

[library-of-ohara]

anon asked: Hello, may I please request a filthy af, dirty as u can get this, zoro x reader with fem body where they do it in public? It doesn’t have to be but just an example is like maybe their all eating dinner while zoro fingers reader under the table while all the Strawhats are there unaware or vice versa and reader gets him off under the table. It can be modern AU or canon. Just two specifics dirtier then hell and public. Thank you 🖤💚

➪ a/n: oh dear I read doing it in public and absolutely ran with the idea, may or may not have gotten out of hand bc this ended up being absolutely filthy. am I somewhat ashamed? definitely! :,D so take this with what you will, hopefully someone will enjoy where my dirty mind sometimes goes lol - maxx (@sugxrslushy)

➪ details: NSFW//Zoro x afab!reader//w.c: 1.7k //warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI, afab!reader (pussy/cunt used), BORDERS ON DUBCON AT FIRST (there's hesitation by the reader but ultimately consent is given), exhibitionism, fingering, degradation ("whore" + "slut"), alcohol, panties, pussyjob, creampie, technically being caught

Wild flames flickered in front of your face, the bonfire emitting its warmth on all of those sitting close, lighting up their faces in its orangish glow and dancing slowly. Your face was already a fire on its own, the heat from your blush burning against the skin of your hand pressed to your face. You gnaw at your finger as you survey the faces of your crewmates.

A sloppy kiss is pressed to your neck, Zoro had become rather handsy after his last drink. He’d wracked up a new record this night it almost seemed, the liquor finally getting to him and washing away any previous inhibitions he held. Each touch grew dangerously closer to places you wouldn’t be caught dead letting him touch in public. But you were turning to mush underneath desperate kisses and his heavy breaths in your ear.

“Get a fucking room,” The cook hisses as he collects the empty glass bottle strewn at your feet. Your heart jumps in your chest, head snapping up to look around if Sanji had brought anyone with him. The hand scaling your rib cage only lowers by an inch, Zoro resting his chin on your shoulder to catch the irritated glance of Sanji. 

“Shut it love cook, not like you wouldn’t be doing the same if a girl actually liked you. Too bad all your stupid pervy fantasies only live in your head.” He may have been borderline drunk but his tongue was still sharp as a blade, his irritation towards the cook never dying down. “M’ not even doing anything.”

Sanji sputters in annoyance, a retort dying on his lips when Nami calls him over to refill her drink accompanied by Luffy’s starving cries for more food. He spares you both one last glance then leaves, leaving you in the arms of Zoro who was hungry for something entirely different.

The blanket sprawled across your lap is light, used for nothing more than a little cover on chillier nights. It feels entirely too revealing, too light and see through as Zoro hooks his fingers in the belt loops of your pants and works them down your legs. Your eyes widen in terror when the pants slip past your ass, the sound of your friends around your entirely too loud in your ears. 

“What are you doing?” You hiss, trying to seem inconspicuous as you chew him out under your breath. “You said you weren’t even doing anything.”

“I did, and I was.” Holding your breath, you can feel his fingers ghosting against the now bare skin of your thighs, drifting further up as if on a mission. “But I’m curious…” The bitter smell of alcohol is heavy in his breath, hot against your ear and making you shiver. His fingers running along your skin feel like bugs skittering across your skin, you sit in his lap tensed and resisting the urge to swat them away, your curiosity taking over concern.

His heavy palm cupping your warmth, the feeling of your satin lingerie panties is soft against his hand. You can feel the manic smile against your shoulder. “Why’d you dress like such a fucking slut if you didn’t want me to fuck you?”

Your heart skips a beat and you fight the urge to rub your thighs together, the sharp bite in his tone setting your skin aflame. Was it wrong to be getting excited over this, with the lingering eyes of others passing over you and the way Zoro gripped you so harshly, so meanly. The idea of being fucked right now was enticing, but another shout of your friends singing to the song reminded you that now may not be the best time.

Relaxing against his chest, you face him with eyes wide and full of faux innocence, enough to fool an idiot or possibly a half drunk one. “We’re not doing this here, right?” Zoro doesn’t spare you an answer, the glow of the flame barely lights up his face but you catch his silvery eye scanning the crewmates seated dangerously close to you both. “Right?” You ask again, voice cracking with a genuine unsureness.

The tearing sound of your panties is impossibly loud to you, reverberating in your ears as if it was the sound of your now arrived doom. No one else seemed to hear it. Brooks' singing and guitar was loud enough to be heard from miles away but all you could hear was your own thundering heartbeat in your ears as your anxiety picked up.

“We aren’t doing this here.” You make a pathetic grab for his hand diving down between your legs. All you can muster up is a panicked look, unsure of what to do. A sick part of you was excited, becoming utterly turned on at the thought.

“Oh, we aren’t?” Zoro’s tone is mocking. He doesn’t make a move, testing your boundaries without words and finding yourself giving in, slipping and falling into his trap as you loosen your grip on his hand in a lust driven curiosity. “That’s what I fucking thought.” Gliding his digits through soaked folds, your cheeks are stained dark with the embarrassment of what he’s doing. You couldn’t tell what was worse, him feeling you up in front of all your friends or the fact you were dripping wet over it.

A finger breaches your entrance harshly, just one big enough to sate some of your desire as your thighs shiver and you bite your tongue to cut off a moan. There’s no mercy as he starts thrusting his finger in and out of you without giving you a moment to recover or breathe. The filthy squelching sound quickly becomes all you can hear, blocking out the sounds of anything else.

“Y/n, Zoro. Is everything alright over there?” You swore you felt the drop of your heart into the pit of your stomach. Robin is seated merely a few feet from the two of you, a clear concern written on her face. “It seemed to me you both were arguing.”

Your veins run with anxiety and Zoro plays a drunk fool, giving her nothing but a meaningless grunt in response. His finger is still buried to the knuckle and he’s working another in, fully aware of just what he’s doing. Your mind is crying out with panic, the wet feeling between your thighs and gooey pleasure becoming all you could think about.

“Y-yeah, we’re fine-” You manage to bite out, back to chewing on your lip to try to keep any other voices from spilling out. “Just too much to drink I guess- ah!” You’re shouting every imaginable curse inside your head while Zoro slides his two fingers impossibly deep inside of you, your own wetness spilling out onto his lap. 

Robin’s eyebrows knit together in concern but Zoro is still, thankfully, playing dumb. “S-sorry. Luffy was doing something d-dumb and I panicked.” Sticking the blame on the reckless captain, Robin seems to relax almost instantaneously. She tips her head and walks away talking about leaving water for you two in the morning, but her words are drowned out by the erratic thrusting of Zoro’s digits inside you.

It’s humiliating how turned on you are, mewling softly and bucking your hips against his hand to bury him deeper inside you as he smears your juices over your lips. Zoro doesn’t miss it at all. “What a whore, getting all wet cause we almost got caught. Does that turn ya on, having people watching you get your pussy stuffed full? You like it don’t you?”

You shake your head, a blatant lie you were clinging onto like it would get you anywhere. You would clench around him so tightly even when someone’s eye merely passed over the two of you, it was a damn wonder you didn’t come right there when Robin came over.

“Fucking liar.” He spits aggressively and tears his fingers out from inside of you, leaving you empty and whining to be filled again. Fumbling under the blanket, he carefully turns you to your side and leans against your back, spooning you. “I should make you fuck yourself on me just for saying that, show everyone what a slut you really are. And you’d like it, probably would come so fast all over my cock.” His voice is low, bordering on dangerous.

His throbbing cock smacks against his ass, you hadn’t even noticed him taking off his pants, much less his underwear. You can’t get a word in nor a question, as quick as his cock had been taken out it’s guided between your thigh. Your hopes rise when the cockhead nudges your slick pussy, then drops when there’s no press against your entrance. He slips his cock between your dripping folds, nestled between your pussy lips and merely nudging your clit.

Drawing his hips back, he spares the deck full of your crewmates one final glance then thrusts in. Your entangle your fingers in the blankets, holding on for dear life as Zoro fucks you with quick but shallow thrusts, his cock slipping through your wetness and hitting your clit. Juices smear against your legs, making them sticky and wet but he doesn’t give a damn about the mess, only chasing his own high.

Sparks explode across your skin with every nudge of your clit, your own knot in your stomach becoming tighter much like his. The clap of his hips against your ass is muted from the blanket but you can’t help but feel the rush of it possibly being heard, of your crewmates sneaking glances at the two of you getting off against each other right in front of them. The fire has died down, the edges of the light just manages to reach you both.

Zoro’s balls draw tight, his orgasm unfurling at the seams and with a final thrust he presses the head of his cock inside of your entrance, milky white seed dripping out around his cock slick with your juices. You barely manage to hold in a sob when his fingers move to your clit, rubbing harsh circles till you come undone in a wet mess. The blanket covering you both is dirtied, becoming a reminder of what you had just done.

Zoro presses kisses to your shoulder, rubbing a large palm over your shaking thighs in an attempt to bring you down from your ogasm. To your surprise, no one had noticed. The party was still going strong and the sounds of singing have only become louder, most definitely drowning the two of you out.

Relief floods your veins and you relax against Zoro’s touch, allowing your eyelids to grow heavy till you hear the flick of a lighter from the upper deck, right above the two of you.

#roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece fic #one piece x reader #n/sfw #maxx writes #zoro x you #roronoa zoro smut #one piece #one piece x reader insert

[kirieshhhka003]

Hi! Can I ask for 13 from smut prompt for Leone Abbacchio?

Pairing: Leone Abbacchio x fem! Reader

Prompt: Look what you do to me

Warnings: NSFW, modern au, phone sex, fingering, language

1k followers event

Event status: closed

It was boring. Your days went by one after another, all blank and dull. Leone was out for another long-term mission so you were left all for yourself. First few days you spent watching your favorite tv-shows and mindlessly scrolling through TikTok, but you quickly grew sick of being all by yourself, nasty feeling that something, better say someone, was missing curled inside of your chest, causing you to walk all over apartment just to busy yourself with something

You started growing homesick, but even though you didn’t feel like going out anywhere, so all your social contacts ended with you ordering your favorite set of sushi and saying “Grazie” to delivery man

So now you are sitting on your favorite spot on the big couch standing in the center of living room, colorful pictures changing each other on the huge tv-screen as another “Scooby-Doo” episode started playing. You sigh heavily, feeing sore pain in your back. You stretch your arms above your head, feeling your stiff muscles being flexed bringing pleasant relief

Your eyes literally flare up when sudden idea comes to your mind. You leap up on your feat from your comfy spot on the soft couch, heading towards your wardrobe

* * *

You crash on top of huge bed that you share with your fiance, mattress bouncing beneath you from the impact. You turn on your belly, placing Leone’s pillow under your chin, faint scent of male’s body gets in your nose and you fight the urge to bury your face into its softness. Fingers run across the screen of your phone, finding the chat with your beloved and opening it. You stare at the wall in front of you, forming your message in your mind before writing it down:

“Hey baby❤️❤️❤️ Whatcha doing??”

You nibble on your bottom lip anxiously, reading user’s status “Last seen: yesterday 16:24”. Knowing Leone and his “love” for both off- and online interactions with people it would be a miracle if he sees your message right now, satisfying your desire for his attention. But much to your surprise his status changes to “Online” few second later, your message is now marked as read. You wait patiently as Leone types his answer, silly smile adorns your lips

“Hey. Nothing too interesting. Bruno had a ton of some paperwork so I offered my help. Now I’m digging through all this bullshit.”

Oh, so he’s not on some dangerous mission. And if he’s working with documents it means that Leone is in some kind of office or something. Perfect! Everything goes even better than you’ve expected!

“Ooooff, sounds bad🙄 Want me to show you something? Maybe it’ll cheer you up a little?👀👀🙈”

Inane giggle slips past your lips, your whole being is thrumming with anticipation. How would Leone react to your little shenanigan? Would he blush and lash out? Or would he join your little game?

“Don’t you dare sending me another one stupid monkey meme.”

Your heart pounding in your chest wildly, threatening to tear through your rib cage. You see that Leone read your message and he’s still online, but it doesn’t look like he’s typing anything. You open the gallery, picking out three recent photos, pressing “send” button

Oh, how proud you are of those. It took you a shit ton of time to take pictures your souls would be finally satisfied with, but it all was definitely worth it. So that’s basically you, wearing your new set of lilac lace lingerie that emphasizes your tender body so much, making your shapes look even softer. If there weren’t your little fingers playing with your perked up nipples and clit shamelessly, it’d be fair to call you an angel descended from the skies

Your message is successfully delivered, app says that Leone read it. You turn to lay on your back, leaning back on the soft pillows, staring absentmindedly on the white ceiling waiting patiently for your boyfriend’s answer. But as minutes go by noxious feeling of nervousness starts itching your insides. Why is Abbacchio silent? Does he not like your photos? But it took you so much time and afford! Maybe he’s mad at you? You snap grabbing your phone and typing another one message:

”Heeeey, you still here?”

A few seconds later you receive an answer, just a short message saying:

”The fuck Y/n?”

It makes you smile. You decide to keep teasing Leone instead of backing off, the deed is done, there’s no actual point coming back to being innocent like nothing happened

”Whaaaat??? You don’t like it?? I thought purple was your favorite color🤔😥”

Five minutes go by before you get another message from him, mouth turns dry as you notice a picture that Leone pined to his text

“Look what you do to me *one photo added*”

Your eyes are literally glued to the screen of your phone the moment you see a following photo Leone pinned after that message. You stare at the picture not even blinking, breath hitches somewhere in your throat as heat starts pooling the bottom of your belly

Oh, what a stunning picture your boyfriend’s just sent you. There’s no face on the photo, but you are 100% sure that it’s Leone. He’s wearing his favorite vine-red shirt that he unbuttoned benignantly, giving you a generous view of his chiseled pecs and abs, long silver locks falling down his broad shoulders contrasting with dark fabric. But that’s not the most interesting part of the photo

There’s a huge, amazingly pretty cock right in the middle of the picture, taking up almost all of the photo. Strong, firm hand is wrapped around the base, veins twirling all over pale shaft, as you take a closer look you notice small bead of precum glistening on top of pink flushed head. Even through the picture you can see how throbbing and sensitive Leone is

Abbacchio sure did a great job. He sure didn’t fret with the angle but the photo turned out amazing, soft lightning only emphasizes man’s sexy muscular torso. You gulp loudly, making a screenshot quickly, just in case. Trembling fingers run all over small keyboard of your phone, hastily typing another message:

“Wow😳😳😳”

You take another look at the photo Leone’s just sent you, eyes follow soft shapes of his erected member, thick saliva fills your mouth. The sudden melody startles you, phone vibrating in your hand. You look at the screen, noticing small window of an incoming call appears on the top part of the screen, name says “💜tiddyman🤤” and you pick up immediately

- Hi~, - you drawl with a lilt sweetly, heart pounding in your chest from excitement. - You’re not as busy as I thought

- Why the fuck you can’t sit still? - Leone hisses, his heavy panting and wet sounds on the background give you full understanding of what man is actually busy with right now. - Y/n, I have a shit ton of work to have done, but you, little slut, had to send me those fucking photos, and now I’m supposed to sit with a boner in my pants

You listen patiently to Leone’s indignations, free hand makes its way downwards causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Nimble fingers slip past the elastic of your underwear, parting your pussylips and scooping all the slick, then coming to your needy swollen clit massaging it in soft circular moves, soft whine escapes from your bitten lips

- Ahhh, sorry baby, I just feel so lonely without you. Mmmh, want you to fuck me good until I’m such a mess and can’t walk, - you whine breathily, hand quickens its rhythm, playing with small nub of nerves in experienced moves, the feeling of pleasure slowly engulfs your whole being

- Fuck, Y/n, - Leone grumbles, you hear some strange sounds on the other end of the call. Quiet shuffling and clattering of furniture saying that blonde tries to find a comfortable position, and when he succeeds he comes back to you. - You’re touching yourself?

Sharp exhale leaves your lungs, you cradle your phone between head and shoulder, now free hand comes to fondle your breasts, tugging almost painfully on erected nipples

- Yes, but it’s not enough, - you whine softly, bucking your hips up into your own hand. - Want you inside, wanna ride you so bad, - you add, lecherous needy moans slip past bitten lips and your eyelids close, imagination draws your beloved working his mouth over your throbbing core, his handsome face nestled comfortably between your opened legs

- I love it when you jump on my dick, I think the way your tits jiggle may put me in a trance, - you giggle at Leone’s words, ears taking in blonde’s quiet groans and swearings. - How many fingers are there inside?

- None, - you reply quickly, receiving satisfied hum from young man

- Good. Now be a good girl and spread your legs as wide as you can, - you obey, doing as you’re told, splaying soft thighs until you feel mild pain in your muscles from stretching. - Slowly trail your hand from your chest down to your pussy, - you close your eyes again, listening to Leone’s deep voice, trying to pretend that it’s him right now playing with your body. You sigh deeply, your nipples harden at the feeling of your own fingertips gliding over your skin. - How wet are you? Bet you’re dripping like some kind of a cheap whore, am I right? I’m sure that you can cum just from hearing me insulting you

- Oh shit, I’m so fucking wet for you, want you so bad, please, - you plea, eyes squeezing tight as your hand works with your needy clit, pleasure thrums in your tummy like electricity

- Don’t cum unless I say you can, - those words make you tremble slightly, you let out a disgruntled mewl, stopping the jutting of your hand. - You’ve been tribbing your clit, right? So now come a little lower to your hole and slip one finger inside

You submit his order, sliding your fingers down your drenched slit, teasing fluttering entrance with light touches. You plunge your pointer finger into the heat of your body without any preparation and it comes in smoothly, not meeting any resistance at all. You whimper weakly, not feeling such needed stretch

- It’s not enough, right? - Leone tuts mockingly and you nod fervently, forgetting that he can’t see you

- Leone it’s not enough! I want more, I can take more!

- I know baby, I’ve tasted your limits long time ago, your tiny fingers are sure too little to satisfy that greedy pussy of yours, - Leone bellows mischievously, you can’t see it but you’re sure that his usual nasty grin stretches his lips. - Now add second finger

You follow male’s instructions, slipping middle finger inside, massaging inner walls of your pussy with soft fingertips. Still not enough. You babble out your beloved’s name mixed with profanities, toes curling up in sweet anticipation

- What a good girl. Now spread your fingers inside like scissors. Curl them up. How does it feel?- Abbacchio asks, his deep voice is hoarse from arousal and you let out another moan, imagining him sitting in an office room, pleasuring himself to your photos. You just whine in response, feeling your fingers hitting your g-spot, clit rubbing against the base of your palm

- Shit, I’m gonna fuck you dumb when I get home, - mafioso promises, you hear those wet sounds on the background becoming more frequent, heavy breathing getting into microphone, letting you know that man is also nearing his high

- Fuck, Leone, want you here so much. Want you to use me like your little fucktoy, - you chitter out illegibly, knots of pleasure getting tighter in the bottom of your stomach as you add third finger in, finally feeling a bit of that blessing stretch you’ve been so eager for

Your thighs start trembling slightly as you fasten the pace of your hand, snapping your pelvis up, fucking yourself on your own fingers. Pleasure comes in waves, starting off with mild itching that soon grows into strong shocks, hitting your petite body with intense orgasm, the feeling of pure euphoria washes over you like a tsunami. You don’t stop moaning all while, telling your boyfriend how much you want him, pushing man right over the edge

Your body wholly relaxes, thighs tremble in aftershocks of an orgasm as you hear Leone mumbling string of Italian swearings, his breath hitches a few times before everything goes silent, you pant heavily, vision blurred with tears. You close your eyes, trying to catch your breath, mind is still hazy with pleasure but suddenly Leone’s voice drones on, getting you out of trance

- Y/n you still here? - man asks, voice lower than it was minutes ago. You nod to yourself, uttering weak “yeah”, senses slowly get back to you

- When will come home? - you ask, voice trembling slightly. You roll to the side, hugging Leone’s pillow that you’ve been laying on previously, inhaling deeply his scent

- I don’t know. Maybe in two or three days. Nothing dangerous here but there’s a ton of boring stuff to do, - blonde answers, you hear quiet rustling on the background

- I miss you, - you say, lips form a small pout as you draw meaningless patterns on the sheets with your pointer finger

- I miss you too, - Abbacchio says, his breath gradually becoming even. - Alright dear, I gotta go. The earlier I finish here, the earlier I’ll go back to you, - Leone

- Call me when you’ll have free time, ‘kay? - you say, slightly upset that conversation with your beloved is going to end so soon. Leone says short “okay” before hanging up. You look at Leone’s grumpy face on the small window of contact the before pressing the side button of your phone, locking it

You close your eyes, silly smile adorning your lips. Maybe you should cook Leone a dinner when he comes? His favorite garlic shrimp pasta would be a good choice. And berry pie as a dessert? With those thoughts you slowly doze off, your sleep is deep and dreams are pleasant, finally allowing you to rest properly for all those days without your fiancé by your side

#leone abbacchio #abbacchio #leone abbacchio x reader #abbacchio x reader #leone abbacchio smut #abbacchio smut #jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #vento aureo #jojo part 5 #golden wind #bucci gang #jojo smut #jjba smut #jojo not sfw #jjba not sfw #jojo x reader #jjba x reader #bucci team #jojo passione #🍋.txt

[judeswhore]

One with masey please where he promises you to watch movie with you after training, but he’s so tired and can’t stop falling asleep and it’s all fluffy

i write all this shit and fall in love with mason even more it’s SICK

sleepyhead - mason mount

"Is this meant to be any good or are you making me watch something shit again?" Mason came wandering into the living room, one arm above his head as he stretched, his other hand scratching across his stomach. He'd changed out of his training clothes and flung on a pair of old joggers, upper half bare and the sight made your tummy flutter slightly.

"You always claim I make you watch shit stuff but who's the one enjoying it?" You turned away from him, gaze settled on the TV while you pulled up No Strings Attached on Netflix. Mason dropped his phone down on to the floor and then practically dove on top of you, laughing at the grunt you let out.

"I'm just very good at pretending." He told you, shuffling so he could lay on top of you, body slotted between your legs. You could still smell that mornings aftershave on him and paired with his post shower messy hair it made you want to grab him and never stop kissing him.

"That's bullshit, you just love chick flicks." Mason stifled a yawn in the crook of your neck and you laughed softly, fingers running over the back of his head and neck. "Sure you don't just want to go to bed?" You knew he'd had a rough day at training, he'd been a non stop yawning mess when he'd picked you up from work and you were sure he'd almost fallen asleep in the shower.

"No, it's movie night, I promised I'd watch this week." He mumbled, shifting so he could press a kiss against your jaw, his lips dragging a line over to your mouth, eyes sparking when he met your gaze. This was the first movie night you'd had in a few weeks, both of you either being too busy or too tired so you knew Mason was determined to make it through the evening.

"We could have went to bed and watched it." Your lips brushed over his and he shook his head, pressing a single kiss to your bottom lip, teeth nipping at it as he pulled it and then let it snap back.

"Tryna say my sofa isn't comfy?"

"Of course not. I'd steal it if I could." Mason grinned and rolled his eyes, settling himself back down with his head tucked under your chin, his hand pushing beneath your shirt so he could trace his fingers over your bare skin.

"If my sofa goes missing I know who I need to call the police on." His gaze was settled on the TV, his hand pressing softly into your side, fingers spanning your rib cage and just the small bit of contact between the two of you make your heart settle. You grazed your nails over his scalp, the soft strands of his hair tickling between your fingers.

You knew almost immediately that he was going to fall asleep, he kept nuzzling further into your hand and the rise and fall of his back as he breathed slowly started to even out. Your fingers were soft against the back of his head, and it was Mason's absolute favourite way to fall asleep, he knew after a long day of training or an extra hard match, the feeling of your nails against his scalp would soothe him.

"Mase,"

"Hmm? 'M awake, just resting my eyes a bit." You snorted a soft laugh, dragging the nails of your other hand over his bare shoulder, the added extra attention pulling an appreciative hum from him.

"You're half asleep, why don't we just go to bed?" You brushed his hair back off his forehead, tilting your head to see that his eyes had fluttered closed again. He gave a slow shake of his own head, turning and burying his face further into your shirt to muffle yet another yawn. “Baby.”

“I’m fine, films only like an hour or something, I can make it through that.” He argued but he’d closed his eyes again, grip on you tightening ever so slightly. He was clearly exhausted but you knew unless you made him come to bed he’d spend the rest of the night fighting sleep which would only make it worse. You gently ran your foot up the back of his leg and kissed the top of his head, finger tapping against his cheek.

“C’mon, I’ve already seen the movie anyway.”

“I said I’d watch it with you, though, I’ve missed movie night for weeks now.” You knew he was pouting even though you couldn’t see his face but you just shook your head.

“Mase, it’s fine, I want to go to bed.” You shuffled until he finally stood up, turning to bury his head into the crook of his arm as he pretended not to yawn. “I don’t know why you can’t just admit when you’re tired. I’ll turn everything off down here and meet you upstairs okay?” Mason just pressed a kiss against the top of your head, a sleepy laugh filtering through the air when you playfully smacked his bum on the way past.

Mason was sprawled on his stomach when you got into the bedroom, one arm tucked under the pillow, the duvet pulled halfway up to his waist. You grinned and flicked the light off before crawling up the bed and half settling yourself on his back, lips pressing soft kisses over his shoulders and his muffled laugh was like music to your ears.

“Can I be little spoon?” He didn’t look at you when he asked but you caught the soft pink flush of his ear and is made you grin even more as you nuzzled your nose against the side of his face.

“Course you can.” Mason moved his head, neck craning slightly and kissed you, mouth sliding carefully over yours until you made a soft sound against his lips. You pulled back and kissed his cheek before rolling off him, Mason turning properly on to his side.

Your arm slid around him and you buried your face against the back of his neck, breathing in the comforting scent of him as your eyes fluttered shut. He was warm against you but he shivered and hissed when your foot touched his bare leg.

“You always have cold toes, you need to start wearing socks.” Your nose bumped his shoulder when you shook your head and tightened your arm around him, and Mason relaxed against you, letting out a little sigh of content. “I promise I’ll make it through movie night next week.”

“I don’t mind skipping movie night if I get to spend it like this instead.”

#england nt #chelsea fc #football #football imagine #money mase #mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount fic #mason mount blurbs #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #mason mount x reader

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright

Requested by Anonymous: the world is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. you’re Bruce’s little sister. you want to go with him during Avengers 2012 because you’re the only one that “can calm the beast” if ever he pops out. so you’re just chilling with the avengers in the flying thing. then they bring Loki in. the world goes to bright, bright colors. you don’t want it to be him. but it is. no one knows. no one knows but him.

AN: IM BACK. YES. AFTER LIKE A WHOLE YEAR. the flying thingy. me too i had to google it, ahaha

Warnings: angst, language

*gif not mine

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MASTERLIST

You spun on the stool, facing your brother with a sigh. He scratched the back of his head, the glow from Loki’s scepter reflecting on his specs in a grey light. 

“One more hour?” he asked with a wince. 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay,” you groaned. “But then we’re off to bed. And I’m putting Celine Dion on the stereo to sleep.”

“Not her again,” he groaned. 

You raised a finger, brows crawling up your forehead. “You made me come here on this ridiculous flying tank with the God damned Avengers, of all people, and we’ve been here for four days listening to sounds of water dripping and Cap’s fifties music.”

Bruce sighed, leaning his forehead into his palm. “Fine.” His hands went up in mock surrender. You could see the tension in his shoulders, straining against the material of his chemise. 

Not that you could see the color of it. You imagined it was blue. Bruce liked blue. Bruce knew colors. Of course he did. He’d met his soulmate such a long time ago, you’d forgotten she even existed. 

But not you. You’d gone through life in the dreary black and white of a world without a soulmate. But now you were curious. You knew the colors by name, but not sight. What does green even look like? Bruce had told you trees and grass were green. Some people’s eyes. Ever since he’d told you that, green became your favorite. Maybe blue could beat it, since Tony Stark had told you the sky was all shades of blue combined. 

An alarmed blared overhead, and your first instinct was to run to your brother’s side. Bruce’s eyes met yours, his mouth tugging up at the corners. 

He’s fine.

Your hand found the curve of his forearm, still. No one really knew what actually triggered the Hulk, and you, being his little sister, were the only human alive able to tame the beast. 

You heard footsteps, many, clambering loudly down the hall. The door to Bruce’s workspace was wide open, and you heard the telltale sound of security making their way down the hall. You frowned. What could they be doing so late at night, and so many all together?

At first, from the windows in the workspace, you only saw the black suits of the security patrol, their reflective masks bright in the hall. They walked in patterned, simultaneous movements, guns held firm in their grasps.

You saw the top of a really - no, seriously, really! - tall head, black hair. White skin. And as the small platoon of security walked passed your door, you saw the man walking in their midst, tied in shackles. 

He turned his head, buzzing in your mind, something deep in your chest tightening. And then you saw the color of his eyes. 

You couldn’t tell at first. Because the world became so vivid, so bright. He went from black and white to stark and bright and whole before your eyes, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

A ringing started in your ears, a burning in your throat. You couldn’t help but stare, watching his eyes drink you in as well, watching his own world turn from ash to bright as the sun. 

No, you thought. No. Not him. 

Anyone but him.

And just before he rounded the corner, his lips stretched into a smirk. 

A cold hand on your arm brought you back. As if slamming back into your body. 

“You okay?” Bruce asked. 

You gulped. Nodded. Felt your cheeks blooming with heat. “Yeah, of course.”

You could see the colors on your brother, now. Albeit, not being able to tell which specific color it was. And yet he was beautiful. Later, after hours of searching online for colors, you’d be able to tell his hair was black, his eyes a warmest brown, his skin a shade of white a few degrees darker than yours. 

But now, it took everything in you not to scream. 

You could finally see the entire world for what it truly was and all because of a demi-God wrought with darkness. 

No. It couldn’t be him.

You separated from your brother, your mouth dry, feeling his eyes on you. He could always tell when you were troubled. But there was just no way, no freaking way, you’d tell him that you’d just met your soulmate. If he knew who it was... No. You wouldn’t tell him. You wouldn’t tell anyone. 

You went to the computer and turned the screen away from Bruce, clearing your throat. Bruce went back to his own computer.

You didn’t even search up colors yet. You searched up the possibility of soulmates being wrong for each other. The computer spat out articles and data from hundreds of years, all proving that the soulmate trigger worked. That the signs of color all proved one had met the person right for them.

You sighed, dropping your head in your hands. 

You rubbed at your eyes, steeling yourself for what you were about to ask. 

“Bruce?”

“Hmm?”

“Did they just bring in Loki?”

His head raised from his computer. “Yeah.” He frowned. “I’m going to go ask why. Does it disturb you that he’s here?”

You scratched your jaw. “No, not at all,” you said quickly, too quickly. You cringed internally, hoping your face didn’t mimic the shame you felt. “Just - why?”

“I’ll go ask,” Bruce said. If he had any inkling as to why you were suddenly intrigued in God of mischief, he didn’t give any clue. 

He left. You took a second to steady yourself. You counted your fingers. Felt the shape of your face. 

Then you took a breath in and all but flew out the door. 

You followed the maze that was the inner organs of the Helicarrier until you reached the “jail”, which was, upon inquiry, meant to hold your brother if ever you weren’t there to calm him in time. 

You watched from outside the doors as Fury talked to Loki. You couldn’t help the fire in your chest as you watched. Loki seemed trapped, looking discreetly around the room, around his glass cage, his green eyes keen on any weakness.

You felt the sweat collecting in the palm of your hands. You waited patiently, praying whatever Bruce was up to would keep him long enough that he wouldn’t come looking for you. You heard broken pieces of the conversation on the other side of the steel enforced doors, but Loki’s voice was even, steady, unafraid. 

He knew he wouldn’t be beat here.

You counted to one hundred the moment Fury walked out. Your heart beat vehemently between your ribs, battering your bones. Your knees were putty when you finally, slowly, opened the doors.

The air ruffled your hair, blowing it out of your face. 

He stood tall, straight, unmoving, statuesque in the middle of his prison. Hands at his sides. Eyes mild. Mouth straight. He gave no indication that his world had finally shifted after millennia of black and white. 

“I didn’t have to wait long.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, your body so reactive to even the sound of his words that you wondered, for just a second, what his touch would do. 

You closed the door, tentatively approaching the control board. You saw a big red button and decided maybe touching random buttons wouldn’t do any of you any good. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, following your movements with his sharp emerald gaze. He still stood there, like cement was poured down the length of his spine. 

You darted your eyes back to his. He was glad in - what you later learned - was a green and gold ensemble, a green cotton cape grazing the floor of his cage. He was beautiful, really. Cut by the finest knife to the most perfect edge. 

He smiled then, creasing his cheeks in what you could only feel as adorable. 

“Didn’t expect it to be moi, did you, princess?”

You tried not to react, but heat bloomed across your cheeks, giving you away. 

“Why?” you asked.

He rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically, breaking his statuesque stance to throw his arms up. “By the Gods,” he groaned, accent thick on his tongue. “You humans are so pathetic. Why this? Why that? Why me? Oh, you want to be so special that you question the straight line of fate as if the entire meaning of the world revolved around you.”

You raised your brows. Wow. He’d been thinking of that for a while.

“Do you know the colors?” you asked, approaching the glass that separated you from your soulmate. 

He took you in, green eyes drinking you in from head to toe. He didn’t seem to think anything negative about his soulmate. “I’ve taken sense-enhancing drugs in my lifetime,” he said. “I’ve known colors briefly. Thor taught them to me.”

You nodded. “Your eyes are green.”

His lips split in a grin. “You’re very perceptive,” he chuckled. “And you’re wearing a powder blue sweater. Childish.”

Something in you shifted and you wanted to say something, something bad. Something along the lines of, “what is your favorite color?” and then run and wear it.

Instead, you approached the glass even more. By this distance, you could see he was significantly taller than you. He eyed you down his nose. 

“A human,” he said with distaste. 

“Maybe that’s your punishment,” you ventured, your heart railing against your ribs. “Maybe that’s your conundrum. You’ve thought nothing of humanity but the possibility to dominate and squander us under your boot like ants. Isn’t it fitting?”

You saw the anger cross his face before his lips spat the vile things he thought in his mind. “You are not worthy of a God, you fleeting, imbecile, nothingness of a human. I will outlive you before I even grow a white hair. Our children will watch you wither before they’ve even gone to school.”

“Our children?”

That seemed to faze him. 

Wow, you thought. Of all the things Loki was, he was traditional. He very well intended to follow through with the soulmate script; to marry you and have children with you.

The thought first amazed you, burning bright in your mind’s eye. Then you thought twice and feigned disgust. 

He laughed. “Oh, please, you’re the luckiest woman in the universe to have been bound to a God.”

“Aren’t you a demi?”

His gaze placated you. “I am, but the fact remains that I am greater than you, greater than anything your pathetic little human brain can conceive.”

You rolled your eyes with audacity you didn’t know you had. “Well,” you sighed, shrugging, hands in your back pockets. “What now?”

He cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Are we to start this - thing, or are we to go back to our normal lives and, hoping you don’t obliterate the planet, we never see each other again?”

His jaw clenched, working. “You know it’s physically impossible now for us to be apart.” He said this through clenched teeth, hands in fists. 

You shrugged again. “I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t mind never having to look at your ugly mug ever again.”

He frowned deeply. “Try it, then, you’ll see, mortal.”

You sighed apathetically, turning your back to him. 

“Before you go!” Loki called. You turned slowly on your heel, offering him nothing but your side profile. “Let your brother know I’m hoping to meet him soon.”

The blood in your veins went cold. 

Part 2? Anybody?

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki oneshot #loki imagine #imagine loki #loki x you #lokixyou #loki x yn #lokixyn #loki x reader #lokixreader #fluff #angst

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Daddy Issues | Draco Malfoy

Wow I’m sorry I didn’t mean to disappear like that Lovelies! Sometimes I forget depression and writers block are a thing until they punch me in the face and force me to go MIA for a hundred years! I guess I’m back? I hope? Fingers crossed? Anyway, I’m sorry this isn’t a TVD fic but I figured Y’all would appreciate something over nothing. I missed you all more than I can say! I hope you enjoy, I love you all!

Description: Draco and y/n are best friends until Draco’s father threatens y/n. She avoids Draco until he confronts her.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Warnings: Like none, it’s kinda sad but not really, the only flaw is bad writing

Word count: 3.4k

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

(not my gif, I just love it lol)

Your heart stings from across the courtyard, the gap between you and the blonde boy tangible. For a second you don't know whether or not your heart is even in your chest anymore or if it’s in his hands. In that case your heart is sitting on a bench, sandwiched between Blaise Zabini and Vincent Crabbe. Maybe he isn’t holding your heart, though, maybe he is your heart, in which case you’re avoiding your heart’s piercing gaze. 

Your hands twitch at your sides, itching to grab his or to twist through his silky hair or do anything other than lay idle when he is only mere steps away from you. Your hands ache to touch him and usually you would be doing just that: clinging to his robes or twisting the rings around on his fingers or simply tangling your own fingers with his slender ones. Your hands feel painfully empty without him to hold on to. 

That makes sense though, he’s your best friend after all. You’re rarely ever spotted less than five feet away from each other. Everyone at Hogwarts can see how utterly entwined you are, every part of him wrapped around your finger and every part of you sitting precisely in the palm of his hand. You orbit each other, drawn in by a gravity that the rest of the student body can’t deny.

Right now, though, that gravity is being tested and everyone feels a little bit like they’re floating away. 

Draco sits exactly seventeen feet and four inches away from you. You can feel his eyes on the back of your head, like lasers, searing into your black and gold jumper and refusing to look away. It burns but you embrace it, taking any contact, even imagined, that you can get from him. Even if it hurts. You would gladly burn for the blonde Slytherin if it made him happy. This doesn’t make him happy, though, being ignored by the girl that commands his entire life. You know that, but you also know that it’s for the best. 

You run your hands through your hair, tugging on the strands relentlessly and closing your eyes. You see his father, the tall, grim man, and replay the conversation you had in your head. 

“He has a bright future ahead of him, y/n.” 

Lucious had backed you into a corner, both metaphorically and literally, the stone of the castle biting harshly into your skin, “I know that, sir.”

He stood tall, menacingly, like he was bigger than the castle itself, “he doesn’t have time for nonsense, y/n.”

Your hands trembled, the cold of the dungeon nipping at them fiercely, “he’s very bright, Mr. Malfoy, I don’t think I’m slowing him down.”

The neutral, if not cold, expression on his face switched then to one of red hot anger, “did I ask what you think? It’s time the two of you separate. He is to be married next year and not to some silly Hufflepuff girl.”

“We’re just friends, sir,” your eyes had long since found the floor.

“Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. If I catch you near him from this day on I will not hesitate to destroy you, do you understand me? Do not speak to him again.”

That was two weeks ago and you haven’t dared to go near him since, spending every waking moment of your spare time in the Hufflepuff common room. You aren’t brave, you didn’t march up to your best friend and tell him that his father threatened to destroy you. You would be lying if you said you even thought about it. The reality of it is that you’re a coward and have iced Draco out in fear of having his father hurt either of you.  

His father’s words still ring in your head. Don’t be daft, my son is infatuated with you. Your heart flutters hard in your chest, your rib cage the only barrier keeping it from finding him across the courtyard. Draco is infatuated with you. Apparently. He hasn’t said so, only his father. Still, you can’t help but hope that it’s true.

But then that makes your chest burn and palms sting again. You aren’t allowed to hope that Draco wants you. You aren’t even allowed to hope that he wants to be your friend. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, let alone allowed to kiss him. Would he even kiss you? Probably not. You tug even harder on your hair, as if pulling each strand out will somehow take the pain away. Don’t be daft.

“Y/n,” gentle hands wrap around your tight fists, “you’re hurting yourself.”

You forgot Luna was there, sitting next to you on the bench, the bench that is seventeen feet and four inches away from Draco. You let the airy Ravenclaw unravel your fingers and hold one of your hands, rubbing circles on the back of your palm. It doesn’t feel the same, her grip is too soft, her fingers too short. Draco’s fingers are longer. 

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of him from your senses, “sorry, I know I’m not the best company right now.”

Luna only smiles at you and rolls her eyes gently, “I know it’s hard for you right now.”

Of course you told her. You weren’t able to tell Draco so you turned to Luna, your other best friend. You nod your head at the blonde girl, too tired to speak. 

“I think you should tell him though, he looks bloody miserable without you,” your eyes widen as if on their own accord.

You feel dizzy at the thought and not the good kind like when Draco spins you around. No, this is the bad kind of ‘I’m definitely going to throw up’ dizzy. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears rapidly. Thump, thump, thump. It almost sounds like footsteps, angry ones, pounding towards you. That can’t be right.

“I can’t tell him, Luna, you know that.”

A hand lands on your shoulder, warmth spreading through your jumper. You open your mouth, ready to thank Luna for relentlessly comforting you, but close it quickly when a thought hits you. You glance down to your lap, just to double check. There, on your lap rests your hand carefully wrapped up in both of Luna’s. Crap. 

“What can’t you tell me?” It takes everything in you to not let his familiar voice curl around you and pull you further into his touch.

You shift out of his hold, not turning to look at him yet, afraid to see the expression on his face. Would it be anger? Sadness? Disgust? The last one makes your heart drop, the thought of the blonde boy being repulsed by you causing you to curl into yourself slightly. You would take anything from him but that.

You stand curtly, turning to face Draco, all too aware of the lack of space between you and him. Six inches at the most, every breath he takes makes his chest brush yours. You still don’t look up at him, not anywhere ready to meet the eyes of the boy you’ve been avoiding. 

You lock your eyes on his silver and green tie, mumbling to it instead of him, “What makes you think I was talking about you, Draco?”

You finally glance up at him and wish you hadn’t. His eyes, usually a bright blue, are dull and rimmed with red. The bruises under his eyes stand out against his cheeks. He’s always had dark circles but this is extreme. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, like he hasn’t eaten in days. It’s almost garish, but then again nothing could ever make the Slytherin Prince look anything less than perfect. He looks destroyed, almost as if his father had gotten to him too. You have to stop yourself from reaching out, choosing instead to look away again.

“Are you serious right now? Tell me this is all a joke y/n!” The courtyard goes silent when Draco raises his voice.

You squeeze your fists, the tone of his voice a punch in the gut. He never shouts at you. Draco is never anything but soft around you. Right now, however, he’s seething. No one around you dares to make a sound.

You close your eyes, trying desperately to stop a traitorous flood of tears, “Draco, please don’t do this right now.”

Draco takes a step back, as if your words had shoved him, “if not now then when? You’ve given me no choice! You run every time you see me, you don’t answer my notes. Do you even read them anymore? Can you just explain why you bloody hate me?”

His voice cracks when he says hate, like its acid in his mouth. In any way it’s acid to your ears. You could never hate Draco, it’s very much the opposite actually. You’re painfully in love with him.

“I don’t,” you have to pause to clear your throat, trying to rid the lump, “I could never hate you.”

His hand grasps you chin gently, his rings cold against your skin as he pulls your face up to meet his eyes, “then tell me what’s going on. Please.”

You squeeze your eyes close, sinking into the warmth of his palm for a moment. You can’t remember a time you’ve gone this long without the blonde boy touching you. You can’t stop the tears from trailing down your cheeks and into his palm. You can feel the hitch in his breath as if it had come from your own lungs. You wrap your own hands around his, squeezing his fingers gently before pulling them away from you.

“I can’t, Dra. We can’t do this anymore. I’m,” your voice trembles, your eyes still closed, his hand still locked in yours, “I’m not good for you. We can’t be friends.”

You release his hand, taking a few steps back from the love of your life. This time, though, he doesn’t let you get as far, taking two steps towards you for every step you take away from him. It doesn’t take him long before he’s in front of you again, closer and even more determined. His eyes burn into yours, his hands restless. You know he wants to touch you. At least, you hope he does. You want to.

“Don’t say that,” there’s a strength behind his words, one you have yet to hear until now, “don’t you dare say that! Tell me what’s going on y/n, you need to tell me! I can fix it. I can make it better whatever it is just please tell me. Please, love.”

Love. That’s new. Your heart cracks even more when he says it and maybe that’s because you know you won’t get to hear it again. You wish you could grab the word from his lips and hold on to it. You want to put it in your pocket so at least you can have a part of him, the very best part of him, for when he walked away. But you can’t, so there’s no use in trying. 

“You can’t fix it this time, Draco,” you take another step back and your back hits the rough surface of a tree.

He fills the space between the two of you once more and this time you’re stuck. Your palms continue to sting, reminding you relentlessly how much you need to touch him. You scrunch the hem of your jumper, trying desperately to quell the pain. Your wrists feel like they’re on fire, something you’ve come to realise that means you’re about to have a panic attack. He can't see that happen, you refuse to fall apart in front of him. 

Of course he notices, though. That’s your Draco, he notices everything about you. That’s his job. 

He grabs your face again, stopping you from frantically looking everywhere but him, “of course I can. When have I not fixed your problems? Remember when those Ravenclaws’ were messing with you? I took care of that, didn’t I? And Parkinson? Zabini? I took care of them too. Remember when Snape wouldn’t let you hand in your assignment because you had the flu? And the time you passed out in the stairwell? I fixed those too because I can. Because I wanted to and I do what I want. Now, all I’ve wanted for days is you so if someone said something to you I need you to tell me so I can sort them out and get my best friend back. Now.”

He stares into your eyes the entire time, daring you to turn away. You feel like you can’t breathe, your hands once again wrapped around his but this time clinging for dear life. You’ve been terrified for two weeks and the exhaustion hits you in one, whopping punch to your stomach, the second punch of the day. Without warning your legs give out, all of your weight falling into the blonde who seems to expect it. His arms wrap around you, holding you against his chest for the first time in what feels like ages.

You don’t realise that you’re sobbing until you try to speak, “Dra, I’m so scared. I’m tired,” you grip his robes in your fists, your head falling against his chest, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this, I feel like I’m falling apart.”

He pulls you closer to him, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against him. You can feel the sigh of relief he releases and his heartbeat slowing as if it’s your own. Maybe that’s because yours does the same. For the first time in weeks you’re engulfed in Draco and you cling to him, circling your arms around his waist and pulling yourself impossibly close. He wastes no time either, wrapping his cloak around you and burying his face in your neck. 

Your body shakes furiously in his arms, everything you’ve been bottling up comes pouring out in a torrent of sobs and hiccups. Draco presses closer to you, towering over you and shielding you from the rest of the world. You let his peppermint scent engulf you completely,

“For Salazar’s sake y/n I need you to tell me what’s wrong. I need to fix it, love. Please tell me,” his voice is low and choked.

He’s right, you know he’s right. You squeeze your eyes tighter and grip his back, savouring the muscles under his dress shirt for a few more seconds before you know you’ll have to let go.

“Your father told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. He told me,” you pull out of his arms, leaning back against the tree, “he said, well, it doesn’t matter what he said. We just can’t be together.” Draco’s eyes widen and your cheeks heat up, your words ringing through your ears, “I mean we can’t be friends.”

Draco steps closer to you, running a hand through his hair and closing his eyes. He mumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear but you’re almost positive that it’s a curse. When he opens his eyes, your heart stops. His blue eyes burn into yours, glassy and angry but with something else too, something hot and fierce. Your heart restarts when he places his arms against the tree, caging you between it and him. You can’t resist placing your hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat pick up as well.

“What did my father say, y/n.” He isn’t asking you, he’s telling you.

You lower your eyes, not bothering to fight him anymore, “he told me he would destroy me if I kept being friends with you. He said you were getting married and that you could never marry a Hufflepuff and that he would destroy me if he had to.”

He staggers back with each word, like each one shoves him more than the last. He squeezes his fists before straightening his fingers, shoving them once more through his hair. His shoulders are tense, his back straight. His eyes are screwed shut again. 

“Bloody hell,” he pulls at his hair, biting his lip, “he’s lost his damn mind.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, tugging at your jumper, suddenly hot all over. Now is not the time to be getting riled up over Draco but you can’t help it, he looks exquisite. Messy hair and an un-tucked shirt, the veins in his hand prominent and his rings glittering in the afternoon sun. He’s absolutely and undeniably perfect.

“It’s ok, Dra, you’ll be ok,” you try your best to comfort him but he snaps his eyes open, looking at you like you’ve gone mad as well.

“My dad threatened to kill you! No I am not okay!”

This time you walk to him, pulling him into your chest again and wrapping your arms around his neck. He sweeps his arms around your waist, pulling you so close that you have to stand on your tiptoes to keep your arms around him. His hands grasp your hips tight and you immediately know what he wants. You oblige, wanting it just as much if not more, jumping up and wrapping your legs around his stomach. You tuck your face into his neck this time, breathing in the slightest hint of apples, green ones. 

You don’t speak, practically feeling the words bubbling in his chest, “My dad told you he was going to kill you, love. He threatened you and he didn’t even tell me. I am definitely not okay. I need to do something. I need to talk to him. And he told you I was getting married? He’s lucky he isn’t here. I don’t care if he’s my father, nobody talks to my girl like that.”

He’s rambling, something he does when he’s at his end. His words wrap around you, tangling with every part of you and sinking into your skin. They lull you into a daze of sorts, almost nodding off on your best friends shoulder. You don’t realise how tired you are until you’re in his arms, safe. And then it hits you, and you’re wide awake again.

“Your girl?”

You cut him off mid sentence, squeezing your legs tighter around him to bring his attention back to you.

“What did you say, love?” Draco hikes you further up his body, readjusting his grip on you.

Your cheeks flame, your neck hot. His eyes bore into yours, searching for something that you’re not quite sure you’re ready to give. His lips are so close to yours, his breath hitting your lips with every exhale. The courtyard around you fades away and Hogwarts itself holds its breath.

“Did you call me your girl, Draco?”

He doesn’t blush like you thought he would, “yes, I did. That’s what you are. Mine. And Merlin help my father for trying to take you away from me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds, letting his words sink into your flesh. They curl around your bones, laying down a warmth that you’ve been craving for longer than you can remember. He’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s Draco. You are his and you always have been. His arm around your back tightens, jostling you enough to make you cling harder to him. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair. He leans his head back, giving in to your touch willingly. 

He holds your gaze as your fingers weave through his silky hair, capturing you with his eyes and refusing to let go, “I’m yours, Draco. Please don’t let me go.”

He leans his forehead against yours, “never, love.”

Hogwarts releases the breath it had been holding, the noise of the courtyard once more fluttering around you. You go to get down from Draco but he stops you, tightening his arms. You only shake your head and smile, letting the sunshine warm your face.

Your heart aches slightly still though, “what are we going to do about your father, Dra?

He starts walking, the sudden movement causing you to tug his hair a little harder.

His voice is strained when he finally answers, leaning down to rub his cheek against your head, “just let me handle that, ok?” 

You give in, for now, laying your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes for the final time, “where are we going, Dra?”

“We, my love, are going to take a very much needed nap.” 

#draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #draco x reader #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x female reader #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter #hufflepuff #slytherpuff #slytherin

[missamyrisa2]

How about a story where a fem ticker ties you down and tickles your royal parts to ticklegasm and is obsessed with tapping her long nails on your belt at the same time

Oooh gosssh~ you reallly want me to wreck myself, don't you? Alright~~

It all started with that silly party game. Word associations, I never thought that would be my downfall. And yet ~ here I am, colorful scarves lining my wrists and running over my legs. She didn't have any rope handy. It's a comfy chair, really, and I can at least sit and appreciate its construction as I wiggle myself to madness while she continues to file her nails in front me. That stupid emery board, why does it have to be so scratchy? That sound is like twirling little puffs in my ears ~ mmmh. My toes are wiggling and I know she sees it. My cheeks burn with blush. I just had to chance playing "feathers" in the word association to sensual, I couldn't let it go. I thought it would be funny to play something innocuous for this woman I found so attractive ~ and yet, here we are, a killer intuition that led her to ask me about it as the party winded down~

Those nails though, my gosh. Long, dark red, thick, and I can see the sparkle from here. Back and forth the board goes. I always wonder when I see nails like hers, my mind can’t help but watch how they move and ponder how many ticklish tummies or toes they’ve grazed. She finishes and tosses the file aside, immediately stepping closer to me. I expect to be asked if I’m ticklish, I guess she might wiggle her nails or taunt in some way. But she cocks her head slightly, purses a lip and viciously reaches for my sides. Not that my defenses are any good when I’m wearing a crop top, but I at least like to pretend I have a chance ~ and she gives me none. Those thick nail tips glide under my sweater and over my skin, grasping in that knowing way only an experienced tickler would ~ my questions of her experience are answered and then some. 

I can feel the rosebuds of blush on my cheeks spreading down over my neck. Her nails are barely moving, my sides quiver and my midsection writhes on the chair doing most of the work. That chuckle starts ~ it always gave me tingles. She was not the usual inclusion to our gaming group, a middle-aged divorcee looking for friendship. But she slotted right in and was always sweet to me ~ which made it even harder to hide my usual love of curvy mature ladies. Even as I giggle madly and feel my body losing control in that cage of dark red claws around my bouncing sides, I can’t help but love on that knowing squeaky chuckle along with the beautiful sleeveless top she wore. My belly trembles madly not only from the tickles but also the jiggles in her beautiful arms~

Finally through my giggles I manage the usual rambles ~ normally I’m bargaining and pleading and trying to distract out of the gate, but that immediate attack put me right into the high-pitched squeals. “You gotta stop you can’t tickle me I need to be at a ribbon cutting ceremony in five minutes I just remembered and mmmmhh the big scissors~!” I hear myself spit out between deep laughs. She chuckles that chuckle flashes me a flirty smile as a nail drags up my waist to my twitching navel. 

“Mhm. Now where’s that bellybutton?!” She squeaks out, poking her nail all the way in before wiggling it and scratching the hypersensitive skin at the bottom. 

“Nnnh but it’s open mic night and I have a tight ten minute set to do about how gum has gotten more minty lately!” 

“You don’t need jokes, you’re making me laugh with those cute giggles!” she retorts and walks her fingers up my ribs, scribbling wildly before darting into my underarms with spidery digs. “How about this, you go to your open mic night and I will tickle you the whole time. You’ll kill, I promise!” 

I scream out with ticklish laughs, nodding enthusiastically as both agreement and coping when her nails glide up to tease my neck before sliding down to torment my belly with graspy jumpy tickles across my quaking skin. And then I’m gasping, the sudden flood of pleasure from a pair of hands with intimate expertise. I glance down and see her tanned hands squeezing and stroking knowingly through my jeans over my princess part. 

“There. There’s a little pleasure to go with that intense...tickle torture!” She chimes, following my struggles on the chair to take in this sudden affection. I giggle-gasp and pull at my bonds, her nails tracing and grazing the swell in my pants, squeezing the tip lovingly through the fabric of the denim and my silky panties below. She alternates pure pleasure touches with strokes of her nails, the sound and sensation of them on the materials making me laugh out nervously as I become so helplessly aroused on the chair~

But I’m so much worse off when I hear those words, the dreaded attention on a particular part of my outfit~ “Hmm. Nice belt!” I choke back a giggly whimper, to which her intuition immediately seizes and she leans in looking at my eyes and then down to my silver flower-shaped belt buckle with the thick black length. I murmur a thank you and something about us getting a midnight snack run but I know she can’t be deterred from this curiosity. 

The snickering whimpering moans continue as she inspects, holding the oversized girly metal, tracing the length of the material, adjusting it slightly as my squirms have put it off-center. Finally, I break blushing giggling out. “Pleeease you have no idea what you’re doing to meee!” That chuckle, bubbles up. She doesn’t even have to say it, I can see that intent and my body quivers at this unbelievably sharp intuition.

Nails glide along my waist, right above the belt line, as the other hand continues to probe. She’s looking for that right sensation, the deep way to exploit this silly kink. I shake my head and bite my shivering lower lip. Her red talons at my midsection, gliding on that ticklish strip of exposed skin, perform an inquisition as her other hand explores while she measures my reactions. Not that it matters much because I’m rambling out confessions in record time as my pants strain to contain my obvious reactions to these touches~

“Mmmh okay okay okay okay okayyyy okay okay okay~~ jujjuust just just just just okayy! I have a thingy thing thang with my belt belt belt it’s sooo silly and ridiculous and whyyy it’s connected to tickles I don’t know buttt my buttt tingles because you’re touching it and your nailssss my gosh why are they soo perfect I mean you’re pretty and gorgeous and I love your curves and and and okay okay okay you’re touching ittt!!”

She’s chuckling knowingly the whole time, so delighted at what her touches have inspired. The worst is still on the way. My most dreaded sensation, the total lack of direct touch and yet absolutely devastating to my ears and wiggly body. A nail taps on the metal buckle, that sound makes me shiver and shake pulling at the scarves fruitlessly. It taps more, continuously, endlessly. She tests each petal on the flower. She taps the center incessantly because it makes me giggle out at the highest pitches. That sound invades my ears, the indirect sensation makes my hips buck. I twist side to side and her nails follow, tappa tappa tappa. 

“Well now I know what to do any time you’re winning at video games!” She chuckles, her other hand again reaching for my princess part. I plead and whimper again telling her she has no idea what she’s doing to my body. Her eyebrows raise as she gives me knowing smirk that nearly makes me lose control right then and there ~ but oh, she’s such a pro. Her little rubs on my aching swollen princess part are spaced and timed to draw it out as long as possible. 

Those wicked nails alternate their duties as she takes me right into fuzzy madness. As one set taps and clicks and presses on my belt making me moan, the other is playfully poking my bellybutton and strumming the rim before squeezing a side. Then they flip, with the tapping hand slipping into the waistline of my pants back and forth while the other is spidering the buckle making me howl with helpless sensation. My rambles never cease, but only grow more nonsensical.

“Mmmmh fancy pants these are fancy pants I’m gonna flowergasm the cloud and take this chair bye bye okayyy okay okay okayyy I confess I made the crop circles your nails circle around and it’s soo bad why are your nails sooo amazing!!”

And just as my head starts to list to the side in sensory overload, a piercing buzzing sound makes my hair whip back up in shock. She grins as a travel magic wand is taken between my legs. I gasp and try to scoot out of the chair, legs quivering and shaking. She nods assuringly and starts drawing the vibrating bulb up and down the bulge in my pants, her other hand split with the thumb nail tapping the belt as the other nails wave like windy grass against my tummy.  “You’re gonna cum for me little princess. And you’re gonna love it.”

That was it, those words were all it took. I could barely stand the vibrations on that death spot even through the thick layer of denim and silky layer below of my pink filly panties. The tingles travelling through the materials, her knowing eyes on my shaking teased body ~ it was all too much. That loss of body control never gets any less tickly teasy ~ my thighs quivering, hips bucking, tummy trembling and my near-soundless gigglemoans nonstop as the buzzing wand stayed tight to my princess part all as it melted. She made me ticklegasm right then and there, fully clothed sitting on a chair with her wicked tickly nails simply touching my belt and belly lightly to draw out the orgasmic starry-eyed sensations as long as possible while a little visible wet spot grew in my pants.

My body went limp in the chair, every touch electrically stimulating the last princess drops from my royal area. I was dimly aware of the movements. She untied me and grazed her fingers on my body as I writhed and squirmed, helped over to the bed. My clothes came off at some point, I suppose I helped a little. My energy came rolling back as I felt aware that I was in my panties now, though she had put the belt back on me, and my face was resting in her big bosom. That chuckle started as I felt her powerful arms around my body, nails grazing my back side. “Ready for more~”

Not a question, a declaration~

[bump1nthen1ght]

Morning In Bed (Naga x Reader)

Pairing: Trans Male!Reader/Male!Naga

Genre: Fantasy, Domestic, Fluff,

Warnings: 18+ Content up ahead! Impregnation, Oviposition, slight Breeding Kink,

Word Count: 1549 words

Summary: You spend another relaxing morning bed with your husband, with a couple of (welcome) surprises along the way

Request: Hey! I'd love to see something nsfw between a naga and a trans male reader. Could you write about the reader getting impregnated, and/or the actual egg laying process if that's not too much.

When you first built your house with your husband, Venthr, he had two requests:

One, for your bedroom to have a wall facing the West, right next to the side of your California King Mattress. Two, that there be a large window on that same wall, to allow the morning rays to heat up your bed and act like a giant sun lamp when you both wake up. You had agreed readily, because even though you loved cuddling with your husband, his cold-blood always had you layering on pajama pants and cozy socks, prepared for a cold compress pressed to your side the whole night.

The sun feels especially nice this morning, with Venthr’s tail wrapped around your legs, shoving away the warmth of your duvet and focusing solely on feeling up your lower half. You crack one eye open as Venthr lays hot kisses on your neck, his claws slightly grazing your hip as he massages it from behind.

“Well, look who's become a morning person.” Your murmur, face still half shoved into a pillow. From the corner of your eye you can see Venthr smile, his long fangs peeking out from between his lips, which he then wets with a long swipe of his tongue.

“It’s pretty easy with you pressed up next to me.” Venthr whispers, pressing another steaming kiss to your neck, his tail slightly constricting as his chilled piercings send goosebumps across your neck. You giggle as Venthr nips at a particularly sensitive spot, reaching your hand back to tangle in his messy red hair. It hangs loose from his scrunchie, long strands framing his face and falling over his shoulders.

Venthr cuddles even closer to your body, soaking up your body heat and nudging your backside with his-

“Speaking of morning.” You wiggle your eyebrows, Venthr chuckling and rolling his eyes. He’s acting pretty smarmy for a man whose dick is pressed right up against your ass. “What, is my drool that irresistible?”

“Would it be weird or romantic if I said yes?”

“Depends on your tone of voice, I suppose.”

You contort your shoulders so you can kiss Venthr on the lips, a breathy sigh escaping you as he begins to slowly rut against your backside. His cock, unsheathed, lays hot on your low back, the tip of his tail rubbing your ankles as he leans deeper into the kiss.

In between fervent kisses, Venthr whispers, “Do you want to try this morning?”

You nod, Venthr’s affection stirring a tingling current up your body and down into your toes as he grinds even harder.

“Y-yeah, yeah I would.”

Venthr doesn’t bother responding with a snarky remark, not about how easily you become putty his hand or how maybe the both of you are now morning people; He just trails his long claws up your hips and your stomach, crawling under your pajama t-shirt and pulling it up as he goes.

The two of you had been considering having a child and had only recently started trying for one; Or, with his biology, a couple. While you two had no problems being ‘motivated’, so to speak, it had been more difficult for his eggs to take to your human biology. His cum would usually leak out of you without any of his eggs properly latching inside. The process was a little messy, but nothing some high grade bleach and plenty of sheets couldn’t handle.

You sigh as Venthr returns to his passionate sucking on your neck, his claws flicking over your nipples as he slowly spreads your legs with his tail. The smooth muscles massage your lower body as the contort and force you open, his cock finding it’s place in between your thighs.

“Gods, I love those noises you make baby.” Venthr all but groans into your ear, fingers finding purchase on your chest and twisting your nipples. You shove your face into your pillow, somehow still embarrassed by your own grunts and moans as your husband fondles you. Venthr’s chuckle vibrates against your neck as his left hand leaves your chest and moves towards your bedside cabinet. He hastily pulls open a drawer and takes out the lube, spreading it over his fingers for you to see. “I’ll get you prepped, but from what I can feel down here,” he punctuates with a hump against you, rubbing his slick cock against your juices, “I don’t think you’ll need much.”

You playfully hit his shoulder, but your muscles tingle from the pleasure and make the impact a love-tap at best. Venthr laughs again, relishing in your sounds of pleasure as he slowly walks his hand down your body. The cold lube smearing against your navel sending goosebumps all over your body.

“Y-you’re wasting t-the expensive kind, babe.”

“All for you, sweet cheeks.”

Venthr’s long fingers finally reach your crotch, spreading you open and playing with your sensitive spot before inserting two of his fingers. Your breath catches in your throat and Venthr takes the opportunity to smother you in a french kiss, fingers increasing their pace. You can taste the metal of his tongue piercing, gasping around his own moans as he finds that particular spot within you. The callouses of his palms put perfect pressure on your insides, the bottom of his palm spaying special attention to your crotch.

You feel the familiar climbing sensation of an orgasm ripple through your abdomen after a couple minutes, causing you to pat Venthr’s arm and breathily whine his name. Venthr pulls his fingers out of you with an audible slick.

“You think you’re ready? Ready to take me, all of me?”

You nod against Venthr’s neck, mind in a pleasured haze, tugging on his tail to bring his cock even closer. Venthr kisses your pulse point. “Alright, just let me know if you need to stop, okay?”

Venthr’s tail slowly shifts apart your legs even farther, the tick of his cock brushing against your entrance as he adjusts his upper half. His hand, now covered in your cum and some lube, lovingly brushes against your abdomen. With a final kiss, Venthr begins to slowly insert himself into you.

You hold your breath as Venthr’s swollen cock fills you out, the cold base of scales bumping against your backside as he bottoms out. A rumbling moan comes from his chest when he feels the way you clench around him. Venthr continues to massage your hips and begins to increase his pace once he feels your muscles relaxing. The two of you let out a series of low grunts and sighs as the tip of his dick pressures against that sensitive spot inside you. Venthr shoves his face in the crook of your shoulder, whispering a ‘fuck’ as a trail of drool begins to pool out of his mouth.

“You’re going to be-” Grunt ‘-such a good fucking dad.” Ungh “I can’t wait to see you, filled to the brim, petting your stomach.” Aah “Chaperoning those dorky school trips, going to overpriced amusement parks.” Fuck.

With your husband’s cock pounding you into oblivion, you barely have the mental capacity to comment on his dirty talk, your responses limited to slurred  ‘uh-huh’s and yelps. Venthr’s tail struggles to keep their grip on your sweaty legs, desperately wrapping tighter and tighter as your bed begins to shake with the power of his thrusts. The bedsprings squeal as he grabs the top of the headboard, holding up his upper body so he can fuck you even harder. Your fingers clench around the bed sheets, knuckles white while Venthr’s movements become sloppier and sloppier, the returning feeling of climax bubbling up in your core.

“You’re gonna look so handsome with my eggs inside you, baby. I know it, fuck!” You throw your right calf around Venthr’s tail, pushing him even deeper inside of you as your pleasure climbs to higher and higher heights, moving your own hips in tandem with your husbands. Both your moan’s raise in pitch, your bed frame slamming against the wall with cacophonous bangs. Venthr’s sharp nails comb through your hair as presses a sloppy kiss to your forehead, more of his saliva dripping from his mouth and onto your face.“Fuck, fuck! I’m cumming, I’m cumming baby, I’m gonna-”

Your orgasm rocks your body, aftershocks shaking your very bones as Venthr’s thick, gelatinous sperm fills you up. The globes of unfertilized eggs push past your cervix and send another wave of trembling shivers down your spine, forcing your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

The two of you stay in that final position for a couple of seconds, Venthr’s dick pushing and holding his eggs inside you as your eyes slowly come back into focus. Venthr’s heart beats quickly, the vibrations pulsing against your back as his tail muscles stay constricted around your legs, holding them in your breeding position. But once the endorphins run out and your muscles begin to ache, the two of you collapse into a sweaty, cuddly pile.

The silence lingers even as your reason returns from post-sex euphoria, Venthr absentmindedly petting your rib cage and caressing your thighs.

“You know, I think my dirty talk made all the difference.”

You smack Venthr’s hand, playful and weak. Venthr laughs.

Just another morning in bed with your husband.

#monster romance #monster x reader #monster/human #monster/reader #my writing #naga #naga x reader #trans male reader #reader insert

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, ska��i eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

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