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acourtofwhatthefuck · 3 months

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Practice On Me — Bonus Part — Fin x Reader.

Summary: A reimagining of how things would have gone if Reader had decided she wanted Fin — despite him being her friend’s father.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Heavy on the smut. 18+, minors dni. Some jealous and possessiveness. Mentions of forbidden relationships/affairs. If the choices Reader makes in this are something you’re against, I urge you not to read! 🫶🏻

Rita’s is like no other place you’ve been — or seen — before.

Is this what you’ve missed out on, trapped within the frozen maw of Windhaven? There is no place like this there, of such vibrancy and euphoria. The music, the coloured faelights, the energy — it all makes you feel…on top of the world.

Like there’s life outside the misery you’ve known.

Mor knocks a shot back, grimacing as she slams the empty glass onto the bar. A sudden burst of giggles leaves her as she says, “My father would have my head if he could see me right now. Literally.”

You don’t doubt that for a second, because Mor looks resplendent, not just in her natural beauty, but her joy. She has danced and drank and kissed and danced some more. And seeing her like this…it makes you glad that she convinced you to come out with her tonight.

“My father would have my head, too,” you tell her over the music. “I’m surprised he hasn’t already.”

At that, she rolls her eyes, and she reaches for two more shots. “Here’s to saying fuck the males,” she knocks her glass against yours. “May they all perish.”

You’ll happily drink to that. With the alcohol that has you in its grip, you’re buzzed on thoughts of storming back to Windhaven and confronting all your demons. Confronting anyone and everyone who has ever hurt you and made you feel less than you are. Your father. Lord Devlon. Azriel—

You banish that thought as the liquid slides down your throat with a satisfying burn. You are in Velaris, not Windhaven. A new place with new people, where anything feels possible. The thought is heady and dizzying.

Someone calls Mor’s name, and she glances over her shoulder, her beautiful eyes lighting up again. You truly don’t know how often she’s able to escape the Hewn City and get away to Velaris, but judging by the amount of friends she’s introduced you to tonight, she’s certainly made her mark here.

“Let’s go dance with them!” Mor yells over the music, grabbing your hand.

You think that dancing might be the answer to everything you’ve never known, and so you gladly follow; gladly throw yourself into the thrall of the busy floor.

But that’s when you see him.

Something…some deep power…compels you to look up. Coaxes your eyes to that area a level above, where the city’s VIP guests spend copious amounts of money on copious amounts of alcohol and drink it from their cushy velvet booths. They’re reserved for associates of the High Lord, a not-so-formal place to meet to discuss not-so-casual things.

But none of that matters. There could be an entire circus up there right now, and still all you would notice is — him.

He notices you, too.

The High Lord’s eyes zero in on you from up above. You watch, rooted to the spot, as he takes in the sight of you, from your braided back hair, to your painted face, your dress and the legs exposed by them. He looks like…like he’s finally setting his sights upon an image that was merely fantasy up until now.

He braces his arms on the balustrade. And he just stares.

You want to know what he’s doing here. Whether he’s at Rita’s for business or…or for pleasure. You’ve heard that there are rooms upstairs for people willing to pay the price. Perhaps there’s a lover up there with him somewhere, waiting to explore every last inch of that glorious, sculpted body—

The bleating jealousy that makes your heart twist is…unexpected. And not ideal; not one bit.

He is Rhysand’s father. Things may have been fucked up royally with Azriel, and you may have been burned by the experience — but Fin is Rhysand’s father.

Your friend’s father.

Your friend’s father who has just so happened to help keep you feeling alive these past weeks. With his layers-deep allure, the sweet, sweet words that roll off his tongue. His hospitality, his generosity. His kindness. All of it, you’d attributed to him being a natural charmer, a High Lord who knows precisely what to say, what to do.

It strikes you in that moment — just how much it’s all sunk its way into your bones and made you feel…dangerous.

He watches you like a cat with a mouse. Watches as somebody grabs your hand and yanks you into the tightly knit dancing bodies. The music pulses through you from head to toe, a frenzied tune of strings and keys that somehow come together to create the feeling of being borne aloft. Being on top of the world.

As you become lost to the sensation of dance, you’re glad to forget all your thoughts about Fin. You don’t want to wonder what he’s doing here. You don’t want to imagine what those strong, rough hands might get up to, where they might venture.

You become sandwiched between two males who dance with you in a way that makes you forget your wings were ever stolen. They touch you and touch each other, and you welcome it all, happy to be someone, somewhere, else. At least for a while.

But there’s suddenly a foreign touch to your shoulder. That of a cold, meaty hand that stills your movements and draws your attention. The two males happily slink away and begin grinding on each other, and you spin on the spot to find a tall, stocky male who looks like he punches people in the face for the hell of it.

“Y/N?” He checks, and you nod. “The High Lord wishes to speak with you. Upstairs.”

You glance over your shoulder, eyes searching for Mor and finding her just as she’s following a male and female to a cloaked-off area at the back. That’ll be her occupied for the remainder of the night. You’re officially going solo.

But not for long. Not as the bouncer juts his chin in the direction of the staircase and begins to lead you there. Perhaps it makes you a fool, but you follow without a word.

He pulls back a rope and gestures for you to go on up, and then he’s refastening it behind you and turning back to train a keen eye on the dance floor. It’s purely the alcohol that hits you with enough of an ego to climb those stairs like you belong amongst the chandeliers and velvet booths.

But you look good — amazing, even. You know you do. And looking like this, things like scars and other insecurities seem so trivial. You’ve taken back the right to feel as beautiful as you are. You wear your Illyrian features proudly, and you’re pretty and lithe and graceful—

And your heel catches on the top step of the staircase, almost sending you sprawling to the floor — if not for the warm hand that catches your elbow.

“Easy.” Fin rasps into your ear, setting you steady on your feet.

Your numbed, inebriated senses are not immune to the effect of his voice, it would seem. The deep baritone, rough as jagged rock, pushes its way into your skin, your veins, and spreads far faster than any alcohol could.

“Pardon me, my Lord,” you answer, and you’re unable to shove down the hysterical giggle that claws up your throat. “Fuck, you’re the High Lord.”

He cocks a dark eyebrow. “And you are drunk.”

“The whiskey they serve here is immense.”

“I’ll be sure to extend your compliments to Rita herself.”

Is that, you wonder, who he’s up here meeting? Perhaps the elusive Rita is a close associate of his. Perhaps they do deals in both business and pleasure.

And taking in your fill of the High Lord right now, in a dark button-up shirt and fitted breeches of a slate grey, you would not blame Rita one little bit.

Gods, he’s exquisite. Rhysand may resemble Roza more than he does Fin, but…with two parents of such stunning beauty, it’s no wonder your friend is as handsome as he is.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you make no secret of the way your eyes linger on him. Tonight is dangerous, and you’re enjoying it.

“Nor I, you,” he narrows his gaze down at you. “Imagine my surprise, considering that when I left the palace earlier this evening, you were curled up in the library with a book. And yet, here you are. Wearing…” mahogany eyes take in the short cut of your dress, “…that.”

“Mor surprised me with a visit.”

“My niece ought to be more careful not to press her father’s buttons too much,” a muscle in his chiselled jaw ticks. “And I think you ought to be more careful not to push mine.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.” Bold. So foolishly bold of you. You’ll regret it once sober, you’re sure. “Was there a particular reason you summoned me up here, my Lord? I was rather enjoying dancing.”

“I noticed. And I’m taking you home.”

“What—”

Before you can even finish the word, Fin’s gripping your elbow again, and darkness sweeps you away.

Being winnowed while drunk is not a fun experience.

You feel the cosmic, air-light step from one place to another. Your stomach lurches, your head spinning. You can barely get a hold of yourself as you cling to Fin and prepare your feet to touch solid ground.

And then the darkness is gone, and you’re back in the toasty, warm glow of the palace’s library. Your knees buckle, trying to drag you to the floor, but Fin keeps you upright.

“What the…” you gawp up at him. “Why did you bring me home?”

He ensures you’re able to stand on your feet before pushing away from you. Doesn’t even look at you as he commands, “Get to bed.”

“I was enjoying myself.”

“Just as those males were enjoying you, too. You’re drunk and you need to sleep it off. Get to bed.”

He strides towards the door, his knuckles white from how hard he grips the hilt of the sword sheathed at his side. But sword or no, you refuse to give up so easily.

“No,” you say simply. “I will not.”

Fin stops. Goes still. And then he turns back to you.

His temper is clear on his face, but he doesn’t storm back over like you’re half expecting him to. Instead, his eyes shutter, and he seems to take a deep, soothing breath. When he’s looking at you once more, he flicks his wrist in your direction.

And immediately, gone is the haze of the alcohol.

Immediately, you’re completely lucid, completely steady on your feet. Not a lick of inebriation remains, as if you had, indeed, slept it off.

“Did you just sober me up?” you’re outraged by the mere idea.

“Yes.” Fin admits shamelessly. “Now you won’t fall victim to a hangover in the morning — a favour from me, to you, and I ask you in return to get to bed. And don’t even think about trying to venture back out. I’ll know.”

Your blood boils. And the anger isn’t simply because of your ruined fun, but because…because it stings, the way Fin is treating you with such contempt. Scolding you like you’re little more than a petulant child. He’s been nothing but wonderful since you came to Velaris, and yet now, he speaks to you like…like most of the males back in Windhaven do.

It makes you see red.

“What right have you to dictate how I spend my evening?” you snap. “I was under the impression that my free time is my own, and if I wish to go and get drunk and dance like a fool, that is up to me.”

Cold, beautiful anger hardens Fin’s face. He stalks closer, squeezing the hilt of that sword so, so tightly. “What right have I? This is my home. My city. My court. I am your High Lord, and you choose to behave in such a way when I’ve opened my home to you and offered you refuge? When I’ve given you a place to run to and left my resources at your disposal?”

You rock back on the heels of your feet, staring at him. Every word lands a hit — as good as if he’d nocked them in a bow and fired them right at your heart. It stings. Gods, it stings. You want the careless oblivion of the alcohol back.

Because you grapple daily with the pain, the anxiety, of feeling unwanted. And you…you had begun to think that Fin actually cared for you. Actually enjoyed your company as much as you enjoyed his.

You’d begun to care about his thoughts and feelings where you were concerned. And begun to believe that it wasn’t just the hospitality and courtesy that he would dole out to any runt on the street.

His eyes seem to track the way your expression changes, your shoulders slump. You swallow. The anger is replaced, simply, by hurt.

“If I am a burden, my Lord, I apologise,” you rasp. “I don’t intend to be one. I appreciate your generosity, and I…I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

You hope you can keep your tears at bay long enough to escape to your room. You’re pelted with shame, embarrassment, hurt. You step forward and hurry past the High Lord, desperate to book it out of there, to get to bed.

But his hand encloses around your wrist, tugging you to a stop. And he says, quietly, “wait.”

That hand on your wrist holds the weight of a thousand unspoken words.

You pin your gaze to the ground, unable to look at Fin. You hear him swallow.

“That isn’t—” his voice is gravelly. “I didn’t mean that.”

You don’t think you can speak. You remain a statue beneath his touch.

But so gently — such a contrast to the whirlwind of his actions before — he’s walking you backwards. Slow and careful. You feel your back hit the wall, and he lets go of your wrist and seems to curl his fists at his sides. There’s a desperation to the action that only then coaxes you to look up at him.

His expression is…pleading. For what, you’re not sure.

“You are the furthest thing from a burden,” he says, quietly, on an exhale. “Your presence here is very much welcomed, I assure you.”

You don’t dare breathe a word. Every last bit of your very sober courage is being thrown into maintaining eye contact. There’s none to spare for speaking.

But your lack of response seems to trouble Fin. His eyes rake over your face, searching for something. He swallows again.

And then his eyes shutter, and he whispers, “Mother above, what are you doing to me?”

You don’t know how to answer him — whether he’s even talking to you at all. He takes in a very slow, very deep breath, as though it’s the only thing that’s stopping him from…doing something. What, you’re not sure.

But you can feel it, sense it — the ferocity with which he’s swallowing down words and holding himself back. Like he wants so badly to say something, but can’t.

His eyes open, clearer than they were seconds before, and he says in a far gentler tone, “Get to bed, Y/N,” he inclines his head. “Sleep well.”

With tense, squared shoulders, he turns — and it’s you, this time, that stops him. You halt him with a hand on his arm, and you could swear you feel the muscles flex under his touch.

“Wait,” you say, not ready to let him go, not prepared to leave things between you like this. “Stay and talk with me for a while.”

His jaw clenches like he’s gritting his teeth. “That isn’t a good idea.”

“Why? We talk all the time, you and I. And there are clearly things you’re holding back from saying—”

Your words are cut short as he suddenly meets your gaze with the intensity of a blazing fire. You think it might burn you. You hope it will.

“It’s a bad idea,” he grounds out, gutturally, “not because of what I want to say. But because of what I want to do.”

“What—”

“You are my son’s close friend. You are Roza’s guest,” he tugs his arm out from under your hand. “You are far younger than I am. I am trying my hardest — I have been trying my hardest — to be a good male. And right now, a good male would take his leave and go to bed, so I bid you goodnight, Y/N.”

“Fin—”

“I hope you sleep well.”

“Fin,” you grab for him again. “What if I don’t want you to be a good male?”

Beneath your touch, he stops. Goes preternaturally still.

Words punch out of you with terrifying gall — and truth. “What if I want you to do those things—”

Quick as a flash, he’s pivoting, and he has the upper hand. Has you pressed so tightly up against the wall, his body boxing you in.

And gods, the feel of it might set you on fire. A brush of your hands, a kiss on the backs of your fingers — they’re nothing compared to the weight and press of his muscles against your body. You want your clothes to melt away, and his, too. You want your hands on his bare, hot skin.

“I don’t think you realise what you’re saying,” he growls.

“I do,” you breathe. “I am completely sober. Completely clear of mind. And I am telling you, Fin, I want you—”

A strangled noise is the only warning you get before the High Lord’s mouth is on yours.

The kiss is pure power. It passes from him, into you, roils through your veins and makes you feel like somebody remarkable. It’s the cloak of darkness and the kiss of sin. Of somebody capable of very, very bad things.

And it’s immediately addicting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to get enough.

You claw at his shirt, tugging him closer, closer, and his broad hands cup your face as his mouth devours yours.

This kiss…it’s been building. The need for it has been working its way beneath your skin for a while. All the heated glances, the late-night conversations. All the thoughts, in the dead of night, of what Fin might be doing in his own bed. Wondering whether he was thinking of you.

It’s so, so forbidden. So wrong. But it feels so godsdamn right.

And the way Fin’s tongue slides between your lips and strokes into your mouth — it tells you that he feels it, too.

Your hands glide from his waist, round to his back, and you yank him harder against you. So desperate are you to feel him. Feel what you think you do to him.

He makes another low noise. And then he’s tearing his mouth from yours. But he lingers close, your foreheads touching.

“Better than I’ve been imagining,” he pants, his hands still clutching your face. “Much better.”

“You’ve imagined kissing me?” You know he has.

“I have imagined,” his thumbs sweep your cheeks, “doing all sorts of things with you, Y/N. Things that would make even the most salacious of a person blush.”

Such a relief — to know that it’s not all just some wild fantasy you’ve cooked up in your mind. That you’re not just some wayward, longing young female who craves the affections of an older male to patch her deep wounds.

No, it’s not that. It’s desire. It’s need. And it burns inside your veins until you think you might erupt into flames.

“I’ve imagined them, too,” you say, without a lick of shame.

Once again, his eyes are shuttering. Once again, he takes that slow, steadying breath. And as you watch him do so, you can’t bear the thought of him still grappling with right and wrong. You can’t bear the thought of him squaring his shoulders and walking out of here, leaving your lips bruised, your body aching, your heart hurting. You can’t bear it—

“I want you to do those things,” you lift your chin, gaze unflinching. “I want you to touch me.”

Fin’s eyes reopen.

He stares at you.

His throat bobs.

You have never seen somebody look so wild, so ravenous. There is heat everywhere, in his stare and in his taut body. His eyes flick down to your lips.

That mere glance at them is the deciding factor, it would seem.

He growls, the sound not at all one you’ve ever heard from a person, and he yanks you up into his arms and kisses you again.

So naturally, your arms twine around his neck, your legs locking around his waist. You can feel the strength of him against you, in the way he holds you. You can taste his crackling power.

He doesn’t falter in the kiss nor his steps as he carries you away from the wall, and you’re suddenly being placed down on the library’s desk, sending books and parchment and pens and ink pots flying. They all clatter loudly to the floor, and neither of you care.

But Fin does pull away to look at you, and there’s wicked, boyish charm in his eyes as the corners of his mouth twitch up. He merely says, “Oops.”

You surge up and kiss him again.

He sighs into it, like your mouth is the answer to all his questions. And when heated hands land on your thighs, you part them, allow him to slot his body in between. The mere feel of it has you pushing up against him, finding him hard—

But again, he pulls away. He scans your face and rasps, “Tell me you’re sure.”

You do not balk from his intensity. From the fact that this is the fucking High Lord of your court, who was changing this world and building a reputation long before you were a mere thought in your parents’ minds. You do not balk from the fact that there are a million different reasons that this is wrong.

You think only about the fact that it feels right.

And that translates into your voice as you say, firmly, “I’m sure.”

You think you see the words course through his body. They change something — forever.

“This isn’t about Roza,” he breathes — breathes heavily, like it’s taking everything to tamp down on the desire to devour you then and there. To say what needs to be said.

You shake your head, “No.”

“Nor is it about Rhysand.”

“No.”

“It’s about me and you.” He destroys what little gap exists between your bodies, his hardness pushing through his breeches, right up against your centre. His hands brace on the desk, either side of you. “And gods, I want you, Y/N. I want you so much, I can scarcely bear it.”

“Have me,” is all you manage — before he strikes.

You think, hope, that his mouth might find yours again — but he’s barely brushing it before his lips settle on your jaw. His hands travel up your legs, fingers biting into the flesh. They find your hips, thumbs delivering explorative sweeps. They tug your dress up as they climb, exposing more of you to the warmth of the room. Exposing more skin that you know he wants to lay claim to.

And when the hem of your dress is ruched around your waist, you smile — at your little wildcard exposed. That he finds no underwear hiding what sits between your legs.

Your choice to forgo a pair seems almost foretelling, now — like some part of you knew the night would end like this, and you wanted to be ready.

Fin’s eyes dip to your slick, exposed cunt. The hunger in them is almost intimidating. You open your legs just a little wider—

But his rough hand is gripping your chin, almost hard enough to hurt. And he snarls deeply, “It drove me to madness — seeing those two males dancing with you. Touching you.”

Pleasure bolts down your spine, and from the way his nostrils flare, you know the scent of your arousal is consuming him.

“Did it?” you stare back at him, welcoming the discomfort of his brutal grip.

“I wanted them dead. I wanted to draw my sword and gut them for even looking your way. For touching what I want to be mine.”

That pleasure again — skittering over your skin. His words do something to you. You bite down on a moan.

“It is yours,” you tilt your chin up to him, smiling when he immediately glances to your lips. “Take it.”

“I warn you,” he lowers his face to yours, “I don’t like to share.”

“And I warn you, High Lord,” you watch as your words land, drawing a deep, raw scent from him. “Neither do I.”

With a growl, he snaps. The kiss he gives you is not slow or sweet. His hand continues to grip your face, and his mouth attacks yours, his tongue sliding between your lips. You can’t help your moan, this time, as his taste overpowers you — a taste that you can only describe as pure thunder.

But it ends too soon, as he begins to leave a trail of heated kisses and bites and sucks along your jaw, down your neck, your collarbones. Your head falls back, and the touches are like little zips of lightning — lightning cleaving through the night sky.

“Pretty dress,” he hums against your skin — and that’s all the warning you get before that dress is ripped apart. Torn to ribbons.

No part of you is left to Fin’s imagination.

He tears his mouth from you and steps back to drink you in.

Instinct roars at you to curl in on yourself and hide. To remember that you are scarred, and flawed, and not to the liking of many — including yourself, a lot of the time.

But something about Fin’s weighty, scorching stare stops you from moving a muscle.

You lift your chin and hide nothing as he takes his fill. His eyes travel a journey from the top of your head and down — down your face, your neck, your breasts. Down your stomach, your waist, your hips. Down to that fine dusting of hair on your pelvis that tracks a thin path to—

Fin drops to his knees with a low noise. His hands wrap around your legs and prise them further apart.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he levels his face with the very centre of you, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

The sight of the High Lord on his knees before you — on his knees for you.

As though he senses the direction of your thoughts, his eyes flick up, and he smiles.

And then he dives in.

His tongue wastes no time in sinking between your folds, licking a broad stripe right up the centre of you. At the first stroke, your head falls back, your arms wobbling where they’re braced on the desk.

“Look at me,” Fin growls. “Only me.”

His voice of pure High Lord power drags your eyes back to him. And thank the fucking Mother it does.

You see everything in the way he feasts on you. His tongue laps at your wetness, and it coats his lips, his chin, coats him in you. The damp heat of his tongue is liquid fire. It promises to scorch you, end you, and rise you anew like a phoenix from the ashes.

Your fingers sink into the strands of Fin’s hair and tug. Judging by the noise he makes, the way his pace picks up, you think he likes it.

He utterly fucking devours you, like he’s fought a centuries-long wait to do so. And whatever magic commands his mouth — you know you cannot possibly last against it.

“Oh, gods,” your moan breaks from you, hips bucking up. You think your voice might be loud, but you don’t care. “Fuck—Fin.”

It all happens at once — his name falling from your lips, the growl rumbling in his throat, the flicking of his tongue against your clit and the finger he plunges into you, curls inside you. Every part of it is lightning strikes to your veins, and you come apart, utterly break.

Your climax slams into you and steals your breath. You’re nothing but a gasping, panting, trembling shell. Your mind is somewhere else entirely.

With your head falling back, eyes pinned to the ceiling, chest heaving, you don’t catch the swiftness with which Fin stands, licking your wetness from his lips. With which his clothes are gone in a blink of an eye.

But then he commands, “Look at me.”

It’s the second time he’s said it. Your head lolls forward once more.

You swallow the breaths you’re still trying to get down. Try to stop your body fucking shaking.

But it’s no wonder it does, as you look at him.

Your High Lord is nothing short of exquisite. He is art. Your fantasies have done him no justice.

That golden skin of his seems to attract the glowing light of the room. It bathes him, but it does not steal the attention. It outlines every fine plane of his body, the sculpted muscles on show, the nicks of injuries that have scarred and silvered over time.

There is not a single part of him that isn’t pure, refined power. And when your gaze drops to below his waist…a shudder wracks through you.

His cock stands hard and leaking at the head. You watch, your mouth watering, as he wraps a hand around its length and gives a long stroke.

“Fin—”

“When you look at me like that,” he prowls closer, “there is no way I can consider this forbidden.”

He’s within reach. Your fingers inch towards him. You want to touch him, taste him—

But he curls a hand around yours and stops you in your tracks.

“Not tonight,” he says. Pure promise is laced within the words. “No playing tonight.”

As if he hadn’t just played with you. You want to protest, to get your fucking mouth around that considerable length, but his hand tightens around yours.

And then he’s flipping you over, so fast that you don’t have time to even register it. You land on your front, your belly and breasts pressed against the desk. Fin lays his palm against your back and drags it slowly down. And in the wake of his touch, he leaves kisses. Kisses to your shoulder, your back. They’re…soft. Tender.

“Have I disappointed you?” he murmurs against your shoulder, folding his body over yours. You don’t think it’s an accident that the head of his cock nudges that sweet area between your legs.

It’s all you can do to breathe, “I wanted to taste you.”

“And you will,” he drops the brush of a kiss to your skin. “But now is not time for that.”

You don’t need him to tell you what now is the time for. Not as his hands find the flesh of your hips, and he yanks you to the very edge of the desk, moving with you. The feel of him so close to where you want him is downright cruel.

“Have you thought about me fucking you?” he asks, those hands travelling to rove your ass.

Your nails bite into the desk as you answer, “Yes.”

“Did I make you scream?”

You bite down on your lip at the feeling of him spreading you apart, opening you up to him. “Yes.”

You feel it — his cock sliding between your folds. Not pushing in, but dragging torturously against your sex. From your entrance, up to your clit. The head of his cock pushes against it.

And the moan that rips from you is downright filth, as he rolls his hips and allows your wetness to slicken his length. It feels so fucking good. To you, and to him.

A breath shudders out of him, and he purrs, “Are you going to scream for me now?”

“Fuck yes,” the words tumble from your lips. “I want you, Fin.”

Just like that, his restraint snaps. The High Lord strikes.

He drags his length through your folds and enters you with a single, powerful thrust.

A shout leaves you, and you’re clawing at the desk, trying to keep your grip against the pleasure that courses through you. Fin fills you and stretches you. He pulls out and slams back in to the hilt.

“Fuck me, you’re tight,” he growls, his hands sinking back into your hips. He begins a steady thrusting, sliding in and out of you with a drag that makes you feel every glorious inch of him. “Gods.”

“So good,” you pant. “Want you harder.”

The plea seems to make him groan, and he wastes no time in picking up the pace. His hands bite into your skin as he fucks you faster, harder, your moans and pleas and curses falling from your lips without any nudging from you. The pleasure is all-consuming. In seconds, it’s buried within your veins.

“You like that?” The grit in his voice has you clenching around him. He’s so fucking filthy, so fucking sultry, as he snarls, “you going to be a good girl and come for me?”

Gods, yes, you are. Already, release is coiling tightly within you, and it’s a force entirely of its own right, inching closer and cresting the hill, ready to sink its claws into you. Fin’s cock hits deep, and out of nowhere, his palm is flying through the air and making contact with your ass cheek. That is all it takes.

The pleasure of it all is too much — the sting of the slap, the depth and thrall of his thrusts, the way he growls and grunts as he lays claim to your body, your pleasure.

You cry out, your orgasm blasting through you with unstoppable force. The long strokes of Fin’s cock fuck you through it, through earth-shattering pleasure, through what feels like a mind-altering experience.

“My filthy girl,” he pulls out of you suddenly, and though your cunt still clenches and twitches, desperate for more, more, more, he flips your trembling body onto its back once more and tugs you up, slipping back between your legs. “Fuck, I can’t tell you how relentlessly I’ve thought about making you scream for me like that.”

Past words, you can only reach up and pull his head down to yours to capture him in a kiss. Your taste still coats the tongue that he slides between your lips. It spurs you on to deepen it, luxuriate in the feel of it. And you become so lost in it that you tug hard at the strands of his hair when he enters you again in one great, sweeping thrust.

His arm folds around your back, hand grasping at your shoulder, and it seems to afford him perfect purchase to pound into you. Sounds fill the air of his skin slapping against yours, of the breaths and moans you huff into each other’s mouths. You think the two of you, together, might be loud enough, forceful enough, to bring the City of Starlight to rubble around you.

Fin’s lips tear away from yours, and he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are growing quicker, sloppier, reaching a feverous pinnacle that will surely break.

“Fuck, you’re going to make me come, Y/N,” his sweat-slick brow presses against your neck. “Taking me so well like this. Squeezing me like this. You’re going to make me fucking blow.”

You want that — more than anything. To feel the power of him spilling into you.

You squeeze your thighs against his, dragging your free hand — the one not sunken in his hair — down the muscles of his shoulders, his back, his waist — to his ass, where you dig your nails into the tight, toned flesh and encourage him to pump into you harder, faster. The feel of it makes Fin shout.

“Come for me,” you choke around your pleasure. “Please, Fin…want you to come.”

An animalistic growl rips from him, and he slams into you one, two, three more times, and then stills, throwing his head back with a roar that shakes the library. Hot, thick ropes of his seed seem endless as they’re unleashed inside you.

The force of it shatters you both, you think. With his trembling as thorough as yours, your nails are still raking over his skin as his brow presses to the crook of your neck. Strands of hair stick to the back of his. Your fingertips smooth over them tenderly.

It feels like eons that you stay there like that, holding each other up from collapsing under the weight of your mutual release. You want to hold him like this, always. You don’t care what others may have to say about it, what they may deem to be wrong about it. You want him.

He pulls back, as though sensing the thought. Meets your eyes. For a beat or two, he simply studies your face, something like clarity on his own.

And then he dips down and drops a kiss to your brow. Such a tender act, in the wake of such passion.

No words are needed. Not as he scoops you up into his arms, leaving behind the mess the two of you have created. There’s a flash, and he’s winnowed you to your bedroom. A fire roars to life immediately. Fin places you down on the bed.

You watch through hooded eyes as he makes his way into the bathroom. Moments later, he’s returning with a warm, damp washcloth, and he perches beside you.

“Open your legs for me,” he whispers, and you do.

The High Lord of the Night Court is gentle as air as he takes care of you, wiping between your thighs and delivering soft, soothing strokes to your skin. A pleasant soreness sits in your lower belly. He leans down and presses a kiss there like he knows just that.

And then he’s sitting up, and it frightens you — the thought of him walking away, of this ending here and now.

So you lay a hand on his arm, breathing, “Stay with me.”

He pauses, eyes roaming your face like he’s assuring himself you mean it. And then he dips his chin.

“I would be honoured,” he rasps.

And thus, the affair begins.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The need you and Fin have for each other is…insatiable.

Every moment he’s away, you’re thinking of him, longing for the moment he’ll appear in your room and rip your clothes off. If anyone else in the palace — staff, servants, associates — are aware of what’s going on, they don’t give it away. And that suits you just fine.

You can’t get enough. You’re giddy with it. Giddy from the multiple, interesting circumstances you’ve landed yourself in.

Like when you lured him out of a meeting and dropped to your knees in a fucking broom closet, taking his cock into your mouth until he was canting his hips forward and spilling down your throat. Or when he fucked you on the balcony of his personal quarters, your body pressed up against the balustrade, the two of you open to the elements and your moans loud enough to reach the stars above you and the city below you. Or when he took you to watch the ballet, and up in the cushy surrounds of your private viewing box, you watched the performance with him deep inside you, his fingers indolently playing with your clit, his low voice in your ear reminding you to keep quiet.

It’s…exciting. Enthralling. It changes everything.

And as he pulls out of you now, sweaty and panting, and collapses beside you in his bed, you’re not sure you could ever tire of this feeling.

He wants you. He wants you so ferociously, like nobody has ever wanted you before.

As you catch your breaths, he props his head up with his hand and stares at you through hooded eyes, glazed with lust. He leans down and grazes a kiss to your mouth.

“I don’t know how to make it stop,” he ponders as he pulls back, moving a hand to brush his fingers over your breast. “All this need — wanting you constantly.”

You lean up on your elbows, tilting your head, “Do you want it to stop?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “Never.”

Never. Never is a very long time. It makes your stomach flip — the enormity of it.

Fin circles the tip of his forefinger around your pebbled nipple, watching with predatory fascination as he adds, “But this will, inevitably, blow up in our faces at some point. We haven’t exactly been secretive — not that I want to be. But people will talk.”

You lean up to brush your mouth over his. “Let them talk,” you say, and kiss him.

Immediately, he melts into the kiss. Your mouth seems to have an effect on him that you never thought yourself capable of. Always draws a long, pleasured sigh from him as he sinks into it, welcomes it.

He kisses you and kisses you, so greedily, so desperately. His hand snakes up to cup your cheek. He’s already hardening against your leg.

But he pulls away, dropping his forehead against yours. And he breathes, “Make a bargain with me.”

You trace a thumb over his bottom lip. You’ve never made a Night Court bargain before; never had reason to. “What bargain?”

“When this blows up in our faces,” he grips your hand, folding his own over it, “we face it together. You and I.”

“You and I?”

“You and I” he kisses your hand. “I don’t claim to be perfect. I don’t try to be. I can be brutal and callous, and I can lie and play games,” another kiss. “But not with you. Never with you. I will look after you. Take care of you. I’ll be whatever you need me to be.”

Words that you’ve always longed for someone to say to you. Words that should not be taken lightly, should not be said without meaning.

But you know he means them. You can tell he does.

You watch closely as your fingers interlace with his. And you whisper, “Together?”

Fin’s thumb sweeps over yours. “Together. We’ll face it together.”

“Then it’s a bargain.”

A flash of splintering pain zips around your midriff. You glance down to find the tattoo now inked there. The black line that draws a perfect circle around your waist, like a trail of night-kissed lightning.

You look up at Fin to find a roguish smile playing on his lips.

“Oh, I like that,” he hums.

And then he’s leaning down and pressing kisses to that circlet signifying your promise to one another. Kisses the entirety of it, flipping you on your front in the process.

And kisses lower, until you’re screaming for him again.

pom tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-a-girlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes @hihelloitsbooktimeppl

#practice on me #pom #daddy fin #acourtofwhatthefuck #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar au #azriel #acotar fic #rhysand’s father #high lord of the night court #high lord #acotar x reader #fin x reader

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astro-royale · 3 months

Text

Astrology Observations 19

Disclaimer: my opinion

If you have a lot of 8th house placements you may need to focus on spiritual protection more than anyone else. You may be prone to witchcraft, black magic , curses and you could face a lot of issues because of that so please PLEASE do regular energy clearings, be very mindful of the company you keep and don’t reveal too much about yourself on social media.

Men with Venus in the 7th house being attracted to Libra risings ,,,

Cancer sun and Cancer moon connections may clash because the cancer moon individual is so much more private than the Cancer Sun,,,

Geminis LOVE exploring fake scenarios, the most random things will come up in conversation lol

SYNASTRY: me and this guy had the Sun Squaring Saturn aspect and I could not stand him, like everything he did was not good enough and I’m usually a very easy going person but I just felt like judging him all the time, ended up with him being blocked because I thought he was ridiculous. Some people describe this aspect as the Saturn person (me) being like a disapproving father towards the Sun person and oh my god it is so true.

lol also my mercury was in his eighth house and I felt the need to just keep asking him questions and dive into his subconscious , my sun was also in his 8th house and 4 days into knowing each other he was already telling me his traumas… GIRL

Sun in the person’s eigth house could definitely cause some trauma dumping.

Air sign men will say stuff which hurts you without realising it, I think they’re the type to make girls feel insecure the most.Like they’re so oblivious about it too. They’re the type to literally ignore someone standing right next to them if they see someone else they like and will openly compliment the person meanwhile the girlfriend is just there like HELLO??? I’ve seen it so many times😭 or they speak very highly of women who are the COMPLETE opposite to the girlfriend in front of her

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p1utofairy · 7 months

Text

PAC: “i get so weak in the knees, i can hardly speak. i lose all control and something takes over me…” 💌⏳🦢🍸

• how does your crush currently feel about you?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. here's something to kick off fall 🍂 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. enjoy!

pile 1 📩 —

heyyy pile 1! let's jump right into your reading 🤗 i'm already hearing that you think about your crush A LOT like you can't get them off your mind even if you tried and they feel the exact same way. you two mirror each other so if you feel intensely about them, they're also feeling intensely about you even if they don't convey that outwardly (i.e. their facial expressions/body language) i feel like they’re not used to having a huge crush on someone, it usually just kinda…happens for them??? like they don't usually have to put a lot of work in to make someone fall for them (bc i'm visually seeing that they're pretty damn attractive) but that's not gonna cut it with you — they just can't get by on their looks. you're big on taking your time to get to know someone and building up that level of trust and respect. you carry yourself very well pile 1 and that's really what made them do a double take when they first saw you. you're 1 of 1 — they've never seen anyone like you before. i'm hearing that some of you may look exotic or people tell you that you resemble a specific celebrity a lot? idk but just know you get the blood rushing through their veins lol they can't help but feel excited when they're around you, yet they barely know you which is the crazy part. they feel like they know you but they don't…and that's what so intriguing to them. stranger by jhené aiko is coming to mind, “i know ya face, i know ya name but i don't know you? isn't that crazy? isn't that crazy?” you may judge them at first and already think the worst like “oh i bet they’re a player!” but don’t jump to conclusions! give it a chance. they may actually surprise you and treat you like royalty, cause i feel a lot of adoration coming from their end…even though they know little to nothing about you. i want you around by snoh aalegra is playing in my head, “it's somethin' 'bout the way you stare into my eyes. i know that i don't make things clear. i fall for you every time i try to resist you.” they’re gonna fall hard for you pile 1. they’re definitely going to want to get serious and make this official which will shock you both, because of how fast things will just come together naturally. AHHH I LOVE IT.

other channeled messages:

whoa by snoh aalegra, kiss me thru the phone by soulja boy ft. sammie, tattoos, glasses, scorpio placements/scorpio moon, wifey, bright smile, almond shaped eyes, petite figure, girl of my dreams, kissin’ on my tattoos by august alsina, u are my high by dj snake & future, prominent air sign placements

pile 2 ⚖️ —

hiiiii pile 2 💓 right away i’m hearing that your crush feels like you’re unattainable? you might be really popular or a naturally social person that everyone clings to, and they find this a bit intimidating. they don’t know how to approach you – they've been trying to figure out how to get your attention but little do they know that they already have it. y'all might have a dynamic like summer and seth from ‘the O.C.’ and/or stiles and lydia from ‘teen wolf’ aw when they find out you like them back it'll most likely catch them off guard like “who?! ME?!” lol they’re so cute. you’re very dreamy to them, they'll damn near start drooling when you’re in close proximity to them…i’m also hearing that they love the way you dress. you show just enough to let their imagination wander lol idk if they wanted me to say that cause i can see their cheeks getting red and them getting all flustered 🤣 let me just say that they respect you so much! they’ll feel so lucky to finally get to know you on a personal level because they’ve been inquiring about you for awhile now. you’ll be everything that they dreamed of plus more & vice versa. there’s definitely a best friend dynamic at the root of this connection, you both will be able to be yourselves unapologetically when you're together. i feel sooo much warmth and comfort. idk why belly and jeremiah from ‘the summer i turned pretty’ just popped up in my head lol but yeah they will love holding you gently and staring into your eyes longingly 😩 SO ADORBS.

other channeled messages:

the cool girl & the gamer boy, no idea by don toliver, just talk to her dude, victor from corpse bride, timothée chalamet, bilingual, hit different by sza ft. ty dolla $ign, my forever boy, good days by sza, skateboarding

pile 3 ⚓️ —

pile 333 💫 what's up!!! i channeled a song for y'all already, come over by aaliyah is coming in strongly. “i know you're asleep but you're on my mind and i'm wide awake and i wanna stop by.” ooo there’s a very sensual vibe between you and your crush, a lot of sexual attraction and tension i'm picking up. you two would make a great looking couple — a lot of people will be looking at you two when you're interacting with each other. it's like “can those two get a room already and just fuck” LMAOOO some will be hating but others will just be admiring like damn i wish i had that. i feel like your crush makes you act really shy lol you try to muster up the courage to look them in the eye and be bold but you fold every time lol i’m hearing them say “don’t be shy baby” 😩 your crush knows what they're doingggggg omg they just love to tease you. a couple that's coming to mind is joey and pacey from ‘dawson's creek’ you may not have paid them much mind initially but one day something clicked and you were like damn…i really like them. it might take a little minute for y'all to officially get together but once you two do…WHEW. i told y'all the sexual tension is through the roof — i’m hearing this is that 90’s r&b type of love. a lot of slow burn and building up to the real thing. they think so much about what it'll be like to finally be able to hold you, kiss you and treat you properly. you evoke a lot of inspiration, motivation and passion in them pile 3 <3

other channeled messages:

halfcrazy by musiq soulchild, take a picture it'll last longer, lavender haze by taylor swift, muse by partynexydoor, capricorn placements/capricorn venus, you're like my own personal brand of heroin - edward cullen (lol)

#pac #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #love pac #intuitive reading #pac reading #love reading #energy reading #tarot reading #tarot #tarot pac #pac tarot #p1utofairy

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cerise-on-top · 4 months

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Hi!!

I really love your works and writing on cod! I really enjoy reading it! ❤

Can I request Konig, Nikolai, Rudy and Alejandro reacting to reader speaking to their native tongue?

Take all the time you need! ❤🐱

Hello, I'm glad I can write something people can enjoy! And of course you can, even if I'm not sure I understood this ask perfectly! I wrote it as reader speaking the native language of the lads with them, so I hope that's okay! If you wanted reader simply speaking their own native language, please let me know! Thank you for the request, this one was very fun to write for!

Alejandro, Rodolfo, Nikolai and König with an S/O who Speaks Their Language with Them

Alejandro: He’d definitely be surprised if it comes out of nowhere, but he’s anything but mad. He can speak English fluently, has no problems whatsoever with it, but if he can speak Spanish then he definitely won’t mind either. If you’re a beginner and it’s evident by how you stutter in Spanish, then he’ll be patient with you. He’ll speak slowly and clearly so you can follow while also getting a good feel for the intonations the language has. However, when he just wants to tease you a bit then he’ll speak the way he’d usually speak while also not shutting up either. Alejandro can be eloquent in Spanish if he tries, but he barely ever does, only when he wants to confuse you with words you’d likely only hear from people who are 100 years old. The more you look like you’re in despair, the more it cracks him up. He will apologize afterwards, though, and give you a kiss on the cheek. If your Spanish is already pretty good, however, and you just wanted to surprise him, then congratulations, he’s likely going to speak a whole lot more Spanish with you than before. Just because it’s a popular language doesn’t mean everyone speaks it, so when he wants to tell you something for your ears only while there are people around, he’ll say it in Spanish. It’s comfortable for him, getting to speak his mother tongue with you. He thinks in Spanish, so it’s a whole lot easier for him as well. Tells a lot more jokes in Spanish too, even though they’re some of the worst ones the language has to offer. While they may not be Ghost-level lame, they’re something else still. Come up with your own and he’ll be so proud of you, rewarding you with more awful puns he came up with. He’s just happy he gets to share his language with you.

Rodolfo: As soon as you come up to him somewhat timidly and strike up a conversation in Spanish he’ll be a bit surprised, but absolutely smitten. Since it’s obvious you’re still learning he’ll try to use “nicer” Spanish on you, so more words that aren’t just exclusive to his dialect, or Las Almas in general. Very supportive, he would never judge you for making grammar mistakes while speaking, taking a while to remember a word or mispronouncing something, it’s part of learning a language, after all. Might nudge you in the right direction or correct you gently, but he’d never mean it in a bad way, he just wants to help you. He’ll speak clearly to you, slowly as well, so you can learn from him. It’s not often he gets carried away, but sometimes hearing you speak Spanish is just so cute that he might chuckle a bit or be a bit more excited than usual. A very patient teacher, who can appreciate you trying to learn something new. Now, if your Spanish is already pretty good then he does like holding a conversation with you in Spanish every once in a while. It’s just nice to turn your brain off without having to translate every other word into another language since he, too, thinks in his native tongue. Soft petnames from time to time, or maybe just mixing English and Spanish together when he can’t think of the word immediately as well. Somehow, as soon as he knows you speak Spanish, he’ll believe you’ve taken an interest in the corresponding culture, so he’ll teach you more about Mexico if he can. Teaches you how to cook the food, the customs, what the people are like in general. While he may not be as connected to his culture as Alejandro, he does like talking about it from time to time.

Nikolai: The second you greet him with a cheerful privet he knows you’re in for something. You should have expected such from him as well, though. It’s a gamble with him, he’ll either speak more quickly than he usually does just to mess with you or he’ll hold a prim and proper conversation with you and it all depends on how playful he’s feeling that day. Overall, he’s pretty chill about it, though. You wanna know how to pronounce something? You wanna know what gender a noun has? What his neighbor was yelling about again? He’s got your back. You can ask him the most embarrassing questions a million times, he won’t mind. Besides, if you want to then you can come to Russia and experience everything there first hand. Nikolai knows all the good places in Russia that are suitable for someone who’s not usually there, so you won’t have to worry about anything either. If you want to hold a whole conversation about how tortoises have survived for millions of years, then you can. Besides, hearing you botch the pronunciation from time to time is just the most precious thing there is. Will smile a bit when you pronounce something incorrectly, but won’t ever outright mock you for it. As mentioned before, he just thinks it’s cute. And when you know Russian very well, then he still won’t speak it too often. Nikolai knows eight languages, he doesn’t always think in Russian, usually in English since that’s what most of his closest friends speak with him. If you really insist on speaking Russian with him, he will, but won’t think too much of it. Many people know the language, Russia is a big country, after all. If you want to, then you can spend some holidays there and he’ll show you around since there likely isn’t a better guide in the whole country than him. But he will not make a big fuss out of it.

König: German isn’t a very popular language due to its grammar, so you can imagine his surprise when you walked up to him with the most adorable Grüß Gott he’s ever heard. He could just squish you then and there, but he refrains from doing so and instead focuses on trying to have a meaningful conversation with you. Doesn’t matter if it’s good, doesn’t matter if you’re just asking him how he’s doing, a conversation is a conversation and you’re learning. Besides, you learning German, especially if it’s just because of him, does move him just a bit. Might not always initiate a conversation in German with you because what if you’re not in the mood? But you can always just talk to him in German, he doesn’t mind it at all. Though, he might not be the best person to learn German from since he uses regional words that people his age use. While he does try to speak high German with you, he does not really care much for it, so his dialect slips in every once in a while. But hey, at the very least you get to learn his dialect. As soon as he hears you call someone Hawara he becomes oddly proud of himself, thinking he’s doing well as a teacher even if he barely does anything. He loves Austria, so if you really want to see it, he’s more than happy to take you home, show you Vienna, Styria and Lower Austria and make you try some good old Brettljause. If you already know German, then chances are you’ll only know high German, which is alright too, but please know that from time to time, König will speak his dialect with you, which you might not always understand. He barks quite a bit when he speaks too, making it a bit harder to understand him as well. However, he’s always more than happy to play translator for you and teach you words no one uses anymore, such as hal. Austrian words are a must know for you, therefore you’ll learn fairly early on what a Seidl or an Erdapfl is.

#cod #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra #rodolfo parra x reader #cod nikolai #cod nikolai x reader #konig #könig #konig x reader #könig x reader #I go just a bit feral whenever I get to talk about König's culture and I think it sort of shows haha #not my fault though! I'm just really glad people like him! Even if he may not have too much to him as a character!#give me an opportunity to talk about Austria and I will talk your ear off #anyway thank you for the lovely request this one was really good and fun to write for!#something short and sweet since I had a rough and long day at work today!#tomorrow likely too but tomorrow is Friday so there's that!

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sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year

Note

Heya!! can i request for yandere john wick (headcannons or give anything will work)

You probably know which Anon i am. Please forgive me i got a little too happy cuz you write so good for such good stuff!

Yandere John Wick Headcanons

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Stalking, Snooping, Very Brief Implication of Smut, Just John in Love <333, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: I wanted to get these out before I watch the new John Wick film; one which I have been waiting for for the last 4 years <3

O B S E S S I V E

Absolutely an obsessive lucid yandere – he may be in love, but he’s not delusional.

Regardless of whether you came before or after Helen, John knows how cut-throat his profession is; how quickly everything can go from an is to a was.

Thus, nothing is certain. Not you, not him, not your relationship.

So when he realises he’s in love with you – a process as gradual as the construction of Earth itself – he’s never letting you out of his sight.

This might manifest as something as subtle as him visiting you more than usual, staying, longer during movie nights, trying to get you to spend the night more often; inconspicuous displays of a strengthening friendship you and John had accrued over the last couple years or so.

But, unbeknownst to you, he’s around even when you’re unaware.

An unmarked black car parked a house or two down the street, shielded by the shadows of the trees as moonlight casts a stark white against the black.

An inconspicuously-dressed civilian who’s been sat on that park bench for the last two hours as you read your book.

And, eventually, the tiny camera attached underneath your sofa, monitoring every coming and going of your house.

You know about none of this, of course.

Sure, you may have suspicions that the car down the street – one you’ve never seen before in your life – could be doing something… but who were you to judge ? There could be a perfectly logical explanation !

But John keeps enough of himself – and you – in the dark so you’d never suspect him.

I mean, why would you ? He’s John Wick ! Nicest, quietest guy on the block.

If ever he’s on a mission; John relies on that camera more than he’s like to admit.

In his downtime, while resting up at the Continental, he’ll check his phone, see that you’ve gone to the kitchen to make something or other, and wait for you to return to the sofa until he can put his phone away.

Even with his logical mind, he can’t help but fall partial victim to his superstition that, once you reach the sofa, nothing bad can happen to you.

The idea of putting up more cameras has crossed his mind.

Multiple times.

But you’re attentive. You’d notice something as small as a little blinking light a mile off.

Hencewhy he takes to manual surveillance when he’s not out earning a thriving.

He also lowkey interrogates you.

“You found a boyfriend yet ?”

You give a sharp laugh.

“If I had, you’d be the first to know,”

You already tell John practically everything that happens to you – as best friends do – but whenever you ask John something similar, he’ll skirt around your questions.

“No time for that,” he’ll tell you whenever you try to identify the new mystery partner in his life.

“You’re always so busy, John-John !”

Ah, his nickname. A mythic specialty no other has had the privilege to call him.

And John gives a rare smile.

“I’m never too busy for you.”

And you know he means it.

Whenever you need him, he’s there.

And you try to be there for him as much as possible, but given how elusive he is, he rarely seems to need it.

You want to help as best you can, regardless.

So, one day, out of the blue, you hand John a set of keys.

He’s a smart man. But he can’t wrap his head around what you’re trying to tell him.

And when he stares at you with a narrowed look, your eyes roll, the edges of your lips curling up.

“They’re keys, John,” you say. And you gesture around the living room, general in your manner. “To my house.”

And John stares at you for a moment. Then two.

“(Y/N), I’m not trained to be a housekeeper.”

“Oh my god, John–”

You have to explain to him that you’re not trying to get him to clean your house or care for it. You’re opening it up to him.

“I trust you more than anyone else to know how everything works here,” you say, a hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to keep dead eye contact with you, but the feeling of your fingers holding him with a softness he’s never known is like being branded.

“So,” you smile. “If you ever need it for anything, you can get in.”

Honestly, John has been granted few mercies in his time; makeshift alliances with murderers who were loyal to none, not even themselves, his life saved only by his ability to barter and his renowned skill for death. And never are these mercies granted without a price.

So to have you gift him a set of keys to the place you are most vulnerable takes John a while to come to terms with, shall we say.

Remember earlier when I mentioned John’s idea to install more cameras ?

Well, now you’ve given him a perfect in.

Plus, he now has access to all your personal belongings.

At first, he did try to restrain himself.

Trust me, he did.

But, as the days grew into weeks, your keys sat on his bedside, glinting under any source of light that could find its way inside.

And, as if the Gods aligned circumstance on his favour, you would be away from home for a week.

A trip to such-and-such a place – John had the address memorised even before you did.

You’d best believe that, although he initially had his reservations about 1.) you going on the trip, and 2.) using your absence as a means to snoop around your home, John is not immune to whim and fancy. Especially when it came to you.

He’s phantasmic; he leaves no trace, not even fingerprints as he prowls your apartment, looking for…well, anything, really.

He avoids stooping so low as to rifle through your underwear drawer like a stalker. Instead, he uses what he likes to call ‘environmental storytelling’ to make deductions about you.

He’s a very intuitive, perceptive individual, so the story of your everyday routing unfolds for him as if he were reading a book.

And, yes, the temptation to peek at the…less savoury pieces of your inventory did become overwhelming when he could no longer be satiated with the literature you consumed, the worn look of your favourite outfit, your secret money stash you kept in the biscuit tin in the kitchen.

To make a long story short, John walked out your house with a short of yours.

And, when he got home, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He put it on a pillow and pretended it was you.

Cuddles with it whenever he’s missing you. Or sad.

Maaay have cried into it on more than one occasion.

Maaay have done…other things to it when he wasn’t feeling upset.

He’s absolutely paranoid that you’ll find it one day, despite his aptitude at covering his tracks, so he tries not to invite you to his house as much as he can.

However, as your friendship progresses further, that’s unavoidable.

While you may not be dating yet, just know that John holds you in the highest of regards, and he’ll never let anything – including himself – hurt you.

Just ignore his eye wandering to the walk-in cupboard in the hallway; that’s just where he’s kept his imitation of you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

#john wick #yandere john wick #john wick x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #john wick headcanons #yandere john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #john wick x you

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gay-dorito-dust · 21 days

Note

could you do asexual reader x Jason Todd headcanons?

I know this hdc won’t resonate for most in the ace community, cuz it’s a spectrum, but I hopes it at least resonates with some, even if it’s one person. That’s more enough for me. (Also sorry for the shit writing as usual)

Jason doesn’t mind that you’re asexual. You were still you at the end of the day, so he doesn’t understand why some people tend to make a big deal out of it.

It’s not like you being asexual was hurting anyone but he guessed that some people just harbour vast amounts of hate for things they don’t/refuse to understand bc they’ve been conditioned into thinking that it’s a bad thing.

Others are just cunts that Jason gladly beats the piss out of in your honour. (Acephobes plz die disrespectfully thanks)

He will not tolerate any sort of disrespect towards you and needless to say having a six foot something man who’s built like an absolute tank is enough to silence those types of people rather quickly.

He’s more then willing to do this for anyone that you knew who was ace, aro, or was in the LGBTQIA community in general, that he becomes a someone that a lot of them could come to when in need of help, or was just in need of a safe space.

He’s unbothered by it because as long as he’s helping someone in need, he’s more than willing to offer his shoulder for them to cry on.

(I just like the idea of Jason being a protector of LGBTQIA youths.)

After all he once took joy in beating the absolute piss out of a biphobe for Tim. Sure he may not have a great relationship with his siblings, but he’s not one to ignore when they’re being treated like shit for being who they were.

He respects your boundaries and will always ask whether or not it was okay for him to kiss you, to which you’d always have to tell him that it was more then okay for him to kiss you.

He understands that asexuality was a spectrum and would ask which part of the spectrum you were apart of, and acts in accordance to make sure that you’re more than comfortable in your relationship.

He’s always finding ways to constantly learn about asexuality and more. He’s even got a whole bookshelf dedicated to LGBTQIA history because he wants to better himself and do right by you and other people who look up to him to protect them. He takes that shit seriously.

He just loves you very much and wants you to feel as though you could tell him anything that’s bothering you and he’ll gladly bring you its head if you’d like just to prove it.

If you are okay with kisses and the like, be prepared to be swarmed by it at every possible opportunity with this teddy bear, for he will smother your face in kisses as he holds you against him, smiling upon hearing you laugh and poor attempts in pushing him away. It’s a highlight of his day because when you’re happy, he’s happy.

You don’t like sex? That’s okay! He’ll make you have Junk food dates with him where you stuff your faces either pizza with stuffed crust (you can eat it in reverse) and garlic bread and watch shitty movies as you cuddle on the couch.

You: you don’t think I’m broken?

Jason; no. Why, who’s told you that you were broken because it’s a bunch of bullshit. You’re the most important person in my life and I’d do just about anything for you, no matter how big or small it may seem because at the end of the day I want to see you happy. So listen to me sweetheart and listen good, you are not broken. You are perfection incarnate in my eyes, you are everything I could’ve hoped to have by my side for you’ve never judged me, so I don’t see why I should judge you for being your truest self. Thats a bit hypocritical don’t you think?

Jason: So don’t ever think you’re broken when you’re far from it, you are whole and you are more than enough. I don’t care if we have sex on occasion or not at all, your happiness is all I care about. I want you to be happy for the rest of our lives together because now I’ve got you I’m not letting you go. Ever. I couldn’t care less about anything else but when it concerns you, I’d move mountains to make things better for you. I love you chipmunk, please don’t ever feel like you’re broken when you’re so much more than that, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.

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nfr-girly · 3 months

Text

Little Hope - Bradley Bradshaw x reader (Part 1)

Bradley’s priority’s have always been the navy and his daughter, hope, but what happens when his daughter’s teacher comes into the mix?

a/n: literally never wrote a fic before let me know if it’s good

Ever since Bradley and his ex had split up, he had been his daughter’s main guardian. He doesn’t really speak to his ex, and he doesn’t want to. Balancing being a dad and the navy wasn’t easy, so when the time came for Hope to go to pre-school, he couldn’t complain.

“Hey have you got your bag?” Brad asked

“Yes!!”

“And did you brush your teeth?”

“Of course I’m not like you” she rolled her eyes jokingly, to which he smiled at

He strapped her in her seat and pulled out of the drive. Brad was feeling all types of emotions, relief that he could spend some more time in the navy while she learns, sad that she’s growing up, also happy for her to make friends. He didn’t like feeling emotions. He never thought it ended well, and in his case it never had.

Pulling into the car park of the school, he stops for a minute. The school is a good size; he sees kids running around, parents talking to each other. He feels a sense of hope that she’ll be okay, but the other half is telling him to take her back home.

“Daddy are we going in??” Hope asks, the gap where her tooth was showing clear, she sits cuddling her bear.

“Oh yeah honey sorry” he gets out and unstraps her out her seat; they walk hand in hand towards the school.

Walking along he feels some eyes on him, at first he thinks maybe they’re judging him, or worst, hope. But as he glances he realises some of the mums are checking him out. He looks away quickly, he had decided to wear a very tight shirt today.

He walked into classroom 2b, which was what classroom hope was apparently in. He looks around and sees the back of who he guesses is the teacher. He waits till she’s done talking to a student.

But as soon as she turned around, Bradley had completely zoned out everything around him but you. As you notice him, you give him a smile and start walking towards him. If he didn’t feel nervous already, he absolutely did now.

“Hi!! Im Miss L/N!! I assume you are hope?” You kneel down to match hopes height, while Bradley’s eyes are still on you. He would’ve thought he had landed in heaven seeing you.

“Yes!! This is my daddy!!!” Hope says, tugging at Bradley’s shirt. He snaps out of his trance as you get up again, trying to understand what just happened

your POV

Being in the presence of Hopes father could be classed as its own national holiday, because being able to meet a man that gorgeous should be celebrated.

“Hi! My names Miss L/N, but you can just call me Y/N” I whisper the last part

“Hi.. Im uh- im hopes dad, but my names Bradley” he says as he shakes my hand. I don’t even know if I can think the things I’m thinking about a students dad, but who gives a shit.

“Nice to meet you Bradley, I just know hope will have a great time here!” I smile at him, which he grins back at.

“Yeah I hope. She’s feeling excited so it should be alright. so uh I gotta get going now, but pick ups at 3:15 right?”

“Yeah!” I reply; feeling sudden disappointment from him having to leave

“Hey honey I’ll be back soon okay?” He has a little conversation with his daughter, I notice a lot of features they share, same nose, same eyes. It makes my heart fill with warmth even more

He gives her a peck on the cheek before getting up.

“Well I’ll uh, pick her up at 3:15 then” he says

“Yeah um see you then” I smile

He smiles back before turning around and heading out the door.

“So hope let’s get you to your desk and meet your classmates okay!” I say

“Okay!” She smiles as we walk towards the classroom. She talks about her teddy bear, and how she named him Rooster, I assume maybe she likes roosters? Half of the conversation I may have been thinking back to her dad. God, why is 3:15 so far away?

————————————————————————

#rooster top gun #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #Bradley Bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #top gun maverick

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comfortless · 1 month

Note

what's ur most unconventional Headcanon? like ones you have that most of the fandom doesn't agree with. mine is that I don't think h's 6'10, in my mind he's closer to 6'6 or 6'7. Also I don't think he would be the most caring bf 😶😶 like not abusive or anything, but to me he will almost always prioritize himself in the long run

HA… well….. i do not think any of mine are too strange! but i can not ever shush when someone has lent an ear to listen!!

warning for nsfw content, mentions of injury, and unhealthy relationship stuff below the cut.

i agree with you about his height. he’s significantly taller than Simon, but i would place him at 6’7”-6’8” max. i’m no health or military expert, but i do not think that he could do the work that he does efficiently if he were a complete Goliath. he would stand out so easily! and there are a slew of issues that can stem from someone being “too tall”. he probably doesn’t have the best posture, either.

i love the conventionally attractive, long-haired König headcanons, they’re fun! but ultimately… very, very unrealistic for my interpretation of König. i tend to side with Salome and Ghost when it comes to their takes on how he actually looks under the hood. his character description suggests that his face is scary, and judging by the game that he’s in, i do not think that the other operators are going to find some goth guy nor… Jim Boeven… to be worthy of such a rumor!

König’s face is always going to be a fluctuating thing for me, heavily dependent on the setting/time period i’m shoving him into or reading about. the thing that’s stuck with me however has always been facial scarring!! where he got it? who knows… i mentioned it on my headcanons post, but the cause is just as changing as his appearance.

i like the thought of him being a little different looking: crooked teeth, pockmarks, maybe a harelip or a broken nose, burn scars, something. maybe his hair is so light it simply looks as if he doesn’t have eyebrows. maybe a combination of all of those things! the less conventionally attractive the better, it’s not his face that had us scrambling from the rafters with our hearts in our hands, after all. though i am and always will be a glitched default face model König defender. it’s just so unbearably adorable to think of that soft, sad-eyed face making that much noise while he’s rushing around in battle. ):

and though i believe he would have the best intentions at heart… you are right, he is likely a very selfish lover. still hopelessly devoted and needy, but he would be the king of double standards. most decisions are made with his preferences in mind, and the bullying has stuck with him. König is insecure as hell when it comes to anything but his skills in killing or bashing through a door.

he likes the idea of you dressing up for him, but he’s also actively pulling up your dress/top to hide your cleavage if he even thinks another man may have glanced your way. yet… he will go to the gym shirtless, and if other women happen to ogle him, well it’s just fine because he didn’t notice them anyway.

you don’t like the house you’re living in when you move in together? well he does, you’re staying… he’ll just fix it up a little to better suit your needs. even if he screws up setting up a new counter or painting, that can all be fixed.

you want to go out with your friends? he should be allowed to come with you… spending time with you makes him happy. why wouldn’t you want him to come too? yet, when he wants time alone to focus on his aim, decompress with a book, or mess around with a vehicle or a house project, you’re expected to leave him be.

he’s too blunt about what he does for work, doesn’t bat an eye when he tells you he put a bullet through someone’s head and watched the spray. he’s so used to it, it doesn’t even faze him anymore, but… you don’t want to hear about it? oh that must mean you think he’s something filthy or worse. he’s not going to cry, but he might bring it up when you tell him about something you enjoy.

just ridiculous, petty things that would drive most up a wall, but he’s firm in whatever he decides. there’s always a little room for compromise, but not much without an argument.

he has his savings account and the house is in his name in case you decide to leave. it would gut him, of course, but a part of him also expects it.

he’s not above begging for you to stay, trying any way that he can to convince you, but… he’s never expected to have things handed to him easily. his childhood wasn’t the best, why would his adulthood be any better? the way he sees it is simple: he doesn’t hit you, his cock and heart are reserved solely for you, if you can’t love him enough to stay, then… maybe you’re not any different from the people he’s known before.

he’s self aware enough to know he can be a complete arschloch, thinks with his cock more than his brain, but he’s completely lost when it comes to matters like love. he wants to console you when you cry, when you’re angry, but asking you a dozen times just why you feel such a way while squishing you into a too-tight embrace doesn’t help much. his search history is filled with things like “why is my girlfriend mad at me” or “how to make a woman stop ignoring me”. his communication toward you isn’t great, but he tries in his own way. very easy to break an argument up when he tells you some silly, scripted thing like, “I’m here for you. I’m listening.” when under normal circumstances he’s staring at you with wide-eyes and swallowing hard the very second you seem a little ruffled. you tell him to stop reciting some guide he read online, and he’s immediately worried sick you’re going to think him a complete fool, in utter denial about ever having searched something like that up.

can’t see him as being god’s gift to women in the bedroom at all. König has probably watched a lot of porn. he doesn’t care for the scripted, practiced stuff, but his tastes have always been a little odd. the amateur, solo stuff is what piques his interest the most. he knows a vibrator can make a woman come, knows that a dildo can be nice too if she sets the pace. what he’s watched with a proper couple, well… the men are always smaller than him. the terms and dynamics are lost on him, he knows what a safe word is and that he should be a gentleman and make sure his partner finishes too, but each time that’s happened has been a miracle really. he’s not a virgin, but he’s never had a partner long enough to bother learning. if he can make you feel good and vice versa, that’s enough, right..?!

he’s not going to bludgeon you with his dick, he knows he’s a bit too big and thick to just fuck you recklessly, but often times he does get excited or fretful— too deep or too shallow, flicks your clit like it’s indestructible or keeps his head between your thighs waaay after you’ve already come. he’ll stop when you ask, when you’re teary eyed and overstimulated repeating the ridiculous German word he makes you use. not above begging you to use your hand on him instead, though…

switching positions is difficult if you’re a lot smaller than him. he’s not against having you on your knees, but he wants to be so close, pant into your ear about how good you feel, smother you with his weight all the while. missionary is a nightmare because he’s drooly and comes far too quickly when he can see your face and overpower you like this, cue further squishing even after he’s done; you’re likely going to be lying beneath him all night. cowgirl seems to work best, though he’s a bit too fond of having your tits so accessible - expect biting!!

when i try to think of König with any sort of hobby my mind just blanks. i think he would try a lot, but never stick to one thing! he’s got a few sporadic collections, but nothing he keeps up with to the same caliber as his guns and knives. books are often half-finished these days, keeping focused long enough to sit through a puzzle or the like is rare. definitely longs to have something for comfort that isn’t some winding trail to no where or suffocating you in himself to just have a hint of what it feels like to be entirely happy and ‘normal’.

he’s become a bit of an amalgamation of all of the things he liked as a child: knights with their swords he thinks of as his knives, deities with bolts of thunder cascading from their hands like the bullets from his guns, loves in the way he read men of myths fall in love - utterly unfathomably devoted but always the leader… if he could he would probably whisk himself and the object of his affection to another place entirely where he could be someone deserving: someone who’s loved despite the way that he looks or behaves, someone who’s never had to question what love was at all.

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steddieas-shegoes · 4 months

Text

deep penetration up the field

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'sports au' rated e wc: 992 tags: secret relationship, football player steve, musician eddie, dirty talk, phone sex (in the loosest sense of the term), masturbation

first, a huge shout out to @thefreakandthehair for basically coming up with the commentator's lines at the beginning of this drabble. and for encouraging me when it comes to a sport that isn't hockey. hope this is a very tasty meal for you 💖

and a thank you to the love of my life in another life @wormdebut, who may or may not have written a part two to this already because neither of us were satisfied with the level of tendernasty kinky shit they got up to here.

“Why are you watching the game? We are anti-football in this home,” Eddie crossed his arms over his chest as he took in what Gareth and Jeff had put on the tv.

“As if you don’t have the world’s most embarrassing crush on Harrington,” Gareth snorted.

“I don’t, actually,” Eddie said, distracted as he watched the man himself on the screen.

“Those tight ends, especially Harrington, they’re skilled at finding the holes and getting that deep penetration up the field,” an announcer said.

“Exactly, Mark. You need a tight end that can play both ways confidently, that’s what sets this team apart,” another announcer said.

Eddie barely bit back a laugh as they focused in on Steve’s face before the snap.

Eddie could just barely see the edge of a hickey on his neck and felt his heart stop.

“Looks like Harrington has no trouble finding willing women,” Jeff nudged Eddie as he left the room to get another beer from the fridge.

He secretly liked football, and probably worshiped the ground Steve walked on as he was most of the reason the Colts had been having an undefeated season so far.

Gareth, however, couldn’t stand any event with a ball, and would judge the hell out of Jeff if he found out he was watching for any other reason than to make fun.

Eddie watched as Steve got a touchdown, something he’d been doing in almost every game this season, doing his stupid dance in the end zone.

Eddie hid a fond smile when he pretended to play air guitar and pointed at the camera that was focused in on him.

He could feel the heat on his face, knew he needed to get out of the room, but just as he turned to go, Jeff came back in and saw him.

“Are you getting sick, Ed?” He asked, genuinely concerned.

“Nope. Just gonna go finish packing!”

He rushed to his bedroom, closing the door and sliding down until he was sitting on the floor with his head against his knees.

They talked about telling the guys when they meet up in Chicago in two weeks. The Colts play the Bears and Eddie plays The Riviera.

But the more Eddie thought about what that would mean, that it would make it real, the more he wanted to wait.

Not because he wasn’t sure about Steve. Never because he wasn’t head over heels in love with him.

Because Steve came out of nowhere, a stereotypical jock in every way on the surface, an overwhelmingly adoring and adorable sweetheart the moment he was alone with Eddie. It was easy to fall in love with him.

And it happened fast.

One moment they were making it out backstage in a closet, the next Steve was whispering how much he loved him in their shared hotel bed the night before pre-season started.

Now, they secretly met up when they could until they could figure out how to tell the people that mattered.

Eddie would have to be more careful about the hickeys he left, though.

He managed to pick himself up and actually work on packing for Corroded Coffin’s Midwest tour, but couldn’t help smiling to himself when he heard Jeff yelling excitedly about Steve managing to block three guys for his team to get another touchdown.

When his cell phone rang an hour later, he rushed to pick it up, already knowing who it would be before checking the screen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he sat on the edge of his bed as he spoke.

“Hey, baby. Doing okay?” Steve’s voice was still slightly out of breath, like he’d just ran off the field and called Eddie before anything else.

“I’m good. Are you?”

“Great. We won. I think if we keep it up, we’ll be favored to make the Super Bowl.”

Eddie’s brows raised.

He didn’t really like football, but everyone knew how big of a deal the Super Bowl was.

“That’s great, Stevie. You heading back to the hotel now or going out with the guys?”

“I’m hiding in the bathroom, we just got off the field. Think I’m gonna head to the hotel, though. Don’t really feel like going out.”

Eddie smiled to himself.

“Call me when you get settled?”

“Just to hear my voice or for other reasons?”

Eddie could hear the smirk in Steve’s voice, felt himself start to smirk at the thought of what they could do on the phone later.

“You know I love hearing your voice, but I also love hearing you whine and beg,” Eddie’s voice dropped lower, more of a growl.

“Eddie.”

Steve sounded breathless, almost like when he…

“Are you touching yourself? In uniform?” He told Eddie he didn’t like to risk messing up the uniform, it was sacred, blah blah blah. But Eddie knew exactly where his hand was right now.

“Mhm,” Steve whimpered.

“Jesus Christ, Stevie. Can’t even wait until you get to the hotel? What if someone walks in?” Eddie knew what would happen if he kept talking like this, especially when he could hear the faint movements of Steve’s hand working his cock.

“Don’t care. Need you,” Steve gasped out, ending his words on a groan.

Eddie was hard, but refused to touch himself now, knew he’d be miserable if Steve had to suddenly stop and he didn’t get off.

“What do you think I’d do? You think I’d get on my knees in the locker room, suck you off in front of everyone?” Eddie shook his head when he heard Steve’s breath catch, slick noises getting louder. “Or would you wanna wait until everyone leaves so no one sees you begging to suck me off before I’ve even gotten your cum down my throat?”

“Please,” Steve begged.

Eddie smirked.

“Go ahead, sweet boy. Make a mess.”

Steve bit back a loud moan as he came, panting into the phone as Eddie talked him through it.

“Later?” Steve asked.

“You’re insatiable.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #sports au

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amethystia1208 · 6 months

Text

One Piece Men As Fathers

Part two here

Monkey D. Luffy

Luffy as a father….whooo boy

Is most likely more of a boy dad than a girl dad, but if he does have daughters, he wouldn’t mind at all.

He will fight your children for food. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t. They may be his kids, but it’s also his food.

He will also forget that he even has kids sometimes. It would go something like this: “Luffy, have you seen the baby?” “Eh? What baby?” “Our baby, Luffy! Your son/daughter!” “Oooooooh, that baby! Yeah I left them with Zoro.” “And where’s Zoro?” “Knowing him, he could be anywhere!”

You don’t leave him alone with the baby after that.

Ability to cheer baby up is a solid 8.5/10. With his Devil Fruit, he can stretch his face into the most absurd expressions and the baby will be laughing and happy in no time flat.

Roronoa Zoro

Just from the way he is with Chopper, you can already tell he’d be a good dad.

He’s definitely very overprotective, no matter what gender your child is, he makes it his life mission to protect them.

Will take regular naps with the baby, and doesn’t mind being woken up by them if they get upset.

Gives them a baby sized sword when they’re old enough to hold it, much to the protests of the more logically minded Straw Hats (i.e. Nami, Jimbe, Robin, Sanji)

However, despite his strong qualities, he is not the worlds most perfect father.

For instance, your kid gets hurt? “Take a swig of this, you’ll forget all about it.” He says, holding out a bottle of sake.

You slap him for that.

Zoro’s ability to cheer baby up varies, I’d say. I’d go with maybe a 6/10

Vinsmoke Sanji

He is a girl dad. But will not be opposed to boys.

He strives to be both the perfect husband, and father, so you better believe that his kids are getting all the love from their dad.

One of your kids is a picky eater? He will figure out just what they like and make it exactly how they want it. He’ll even let them come into the kitchen with him and show him exactly how they want it.

Will not hesitate to spoil your children rotten. You practically have to reign him in every time he sees something he thinks they would like. And then you have to listen to the “But Y/n-chan! Think of how happy they would be!”

Just say no. He will charm you into bankruptcy if you don’t.

Will plan elaborate tea parties with his child, and will also get you to participate.

Will definitely teach the baby to hate Zoro from an early age, so you know exactly who to blame when your child points at said male and babbles “Marimo!”

Sanji has a proud Papa moment, before you whack him on the head.

Ability to cheer baby up is a 7.5/10. With the way he cooks, no one can stay upset for too long.

God Ussop

You’d better believe that your kids are getting the best story times ever with Usopp as their dad. He will spin the best stories, do all the voices, and even include his kids in the story.

At lease one of his kids gets his nose. The genetics are too strong.

He’s the best at doing his kids hair. No matter how long it may take, he will sit there and figure it out.

He has taught his children his “fight or flight” way of life, and they secretly judge him for it.

Like Zoro, gives them a baby sized slingshot, and everyone blames him once your child starts shooting at people.

His ability to cheer baby up is 4/10. In a stressful situation, Usopp has been known to blow things out of proportion, so that combined with an upset baby doesn’t really do anything good.

#one piece #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #ussop x reader #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #monkey d. luffy #god usopp #headcannons

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shdo-xplosion · 11 months

Text

☼masterlist☼

02 <- ☼ -> 04

warnings: 1.6k, captivity, restraints, non-con, forced orgasms, forced lactation, fingering, exhibitionism/voyeurism, toys, fisting, gape, orgasm torture

notes: this one took me a while because i could not find a good place to write it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) but here ya go! this is gross! (also i have zero experience with lactation, but this is sci-fi so let’s just pretend)

tags: @ssplague @makepastanotwar13 @kaidabakugou @kiarathace @kllrkitty @itachiwho @siempre-entre-dos-opciones-blog @clerdecat

let me know if you would (or would not) like to be tagged, but you must have your age somewhere visible on your blog!

You don’t know how long it is before Kat returns, no way to tell when it’s day or night (or even if this planet has days and nights, how long they may last). A different alien had come in some time ago to clean you, or so you assume. It had spread some sort of gel over the exposed parts of your body, the substance tingling then drying by itself.

The creature had also given you something, held a gun shaped object to your thigh, aimed right at your femoral artery, and shot you with what you guess to be sustenance considering the way your appetite was suddenly satiated.

Despite not feeling as drained as before, headache and stomach cramps having subsided, your heart drops when you see Kat walk in followed by two others that you vaguely recognize from when your crew had first arrived.

He thinks their names before you have to ask, and the closest you can get is Deku and Kiri. Both are even larger than Kat, a fact that makes you swallow nervously. He had told you he would find better ways to stretch you. Is this how? Are they going to…?

No. They’re just here to watch.

Also scary but not as bad as it could be.

Kat fiddles with the panel behind you again, tightening restraints, spreading your legs, just like last time. You already know that any struggling is useless, so you focus more on your breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

The device on your chest has been active for some time, and though Kat doesn’t adjust anything on that, he does uncoil two clear tubes—the ones you saw attached to Kendou, and connects them to the smaller ones that sit right over your nipples.

I’ve never been pregnant… you won’t be able to get anything from me, you try, knowing damn well that pregnancy isn’t the only way to induce lactation.

I’m sure we’ll get plenty, Kat thinks with a huff.

You feel the machine initiate a light suction that makes you bite your lip, and when Kat walks around you to take up his place between your legs, you can see the smirk on his face.

A new set of tools is brought out this time, similar balls and speculum but other items that vary in size. They look very similar to a certain kind of toy you used to pleasure yourself with at home, except you never tried to use anything as big as some of these. Two of the oblong shapes look doable, but after that they start to get… intimidating.

You tense at the first touch, fingers tracing up and down your folds.

You either relax now or I make you, he tells you. Threatens you, more like.

You don’t doubt him. He learned how to unravel you last time, and judging by the way his finger lightly circles your clit, he retained all that information.

He teases for a little while, speaking to his comrades in their native tongue. Part of you wishes you could understand what he’s saying while another part is glad you can’t. Who knows what he’s telling them about you and your pussy?

You want to cry when you feel yourself throb, know that Kat can feel your wetness when he pushes a finger into your heat.

Like I told you… relaxed. He must be referring to the way your legs stop trembling.

It doesn’t feel good, doesn’t feel good, you repeat more to yourself than to him. Natural reaction, biological response. You need these reminders. You need to know that it isn’t the alien who’s making your skin hot, making you want more.

Kat adds another finger, scissors them, pulls out only to stretch your hole with different digits. He grunts something and you hear heavy footsteps, the other two creatures coming closer in order to watch, to look inside of you.

You clench your muscles as if it’ll do anything to hide your intimacy, but all it does is make the first bit of slick leak out of you. All three aliens make curious noises, something more appreciative coming from Kat when he rubs a finger through your folds, gathering the liquid.

To your horror, he raises his finger to his face to sniff it, examining it for a moment before poking his forked tongue out and licking it.

Deku and Kiri are suddenly shouting at him in alarm. Maybe they think it’s poison, a defense mechanism. That’s an amusing idea.

Taste good, Kat thinks, and you’re horrified at the pleasure that rolls through you. You don’t want him to enjoy the taste. Fuck, what if it makes him want to eat you?

I just might. His mouth is lifted up on one side, the edge of a fang poking out.

He uses the speculum first, stretching you slowly, so slowly, until your hole is opened wide enough for him to slide one of the long shapes inside of you. There’s even room to spare, prompting him to switch the tool for a bigger one. You feel the speculum against your walls rather than the insert, but that changes when Kat removes both to replace them with the next size up.

You moan, eyes squeezed shut. This is all I can take, you think to yourself. I can’t fit anything bigger.

Yeah, you can.

Kat moves the tool in and out of you, fucking you with it as your noises rise in volume and pitch. Oh, it feels good. It feels too good, and it only gets better when he flicks your clit. Your arousal streams down your folds and ass followed by squirt when Kat begins moving faster.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” It comes out as a whisper. You don’t want any of them to hear. Not that it matters since they—or at least Kat—knows what you’re thinking.

Another, girthier tool (at this point you feel they’re more like toys) takes the other’s place, and tears prick your eyes as you feel your flesh stretch even more. You have no idea how wide your hole is at this point, but you do know you’ve never had something this big inside of you. You also know you’ve never experienced the sensation you’re feeling in your tits.

Kat has enough understanding to go slowly, keep working your muscles and not just shove into you. You’re embarrassingly wet, letting the toy slide in and out of you with ease, and soon you’re even trying to buck into it.

You’re close to an orgasm. You can feel it building inside of you. And then it disappears when Kat stops pumping, leaving the tool inside of you and watching as you whimper and clench around it.

Push it out, he commands. I wanna see your cunt work.

You whine out loud and sniffle, unable to mask your shameful thought: but I don’t want it out of me.

Push it out and I’ll make you cum.

Bearing down as best you can, you groan and push, again feeling how large the object is as it slowly slides out of you. When it falls between your legs you let out a sob, inhaling raggedly when Kat touches you again. Fingers delve inside of you but it’s only to open you up. No part of his hands are touching, and though you can’t see what he sees, you know you must be stretched obscenely wide.

The three aliens peer into your guts, and you’ve never felt more exposed. You’re morbidly curious at your state, what Kat has done to your pussy, and in a silent answer to your question he releases your folds and begins pushing fingers into you. Two… three… four… oh god, five… and you take another without issue. You must be gaping, loose enough to—Christ, he starts fisting you. His whole hand is inside of you, making squirt splash out of your cunt. The way your body greedily takes what he’s giving you is absurd, and the way it makes you climb closer to your peak is even more so.

Wanna feel you clench around me. Can you do that?

You nod, back arching. He’s literally bruising your insides, and you’re loving it.

When you cum, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. Your hole opens wider as if begging for Kat to push further, and a geyser of fluid sprays from between your legs. At the same time, you feel a tightness in your nipples as milk is pushed from them. Your jaw drops open in awe as you watch the white droplets get sucked up the tubing attached to you. He was right. It actually worked.

Could play with your cunt all day, Kat thinks as you take a shuddering breath. I think I might.

You feel weak as you raise your head to look at him, your face sticky with drying tears. I don’t…

He wiggles his fingers inside of you, cutting off any argument you thought you had.

There’s no way to tell how long he’s there with you, long enough for Kiri and Deku to grow bored and leave, but Kat stays, making you cum again. And again. And again.

The table is drenched and so are you and so is he, your juices dripping down his chest and into his lap. You cry and beg him to stop, so lightheaded, so sore. Every orgasm is paired with lactation. The first couple climaxes only produce drops at a time, but eventually you’re spewing enough milk to coat the tubes. All you want to do is hold your tender breasts, cover your nipples and soothe them, but it’s not an option. Instead Kat just keeps making you cum, keeps milking you, until all that’s left for you to do is pass out.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #tw dark content #tw noncon

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