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#tong of spine
shy-peacock · 1 year
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Fun, potentially devastating idea for a ratld fic.
What if when they were turned to stone and brought back, it caused them to lose their memories?!
Imagine not everyone in the RATLD crew was turned to stone. What if only Raya and Namaari had escaped being turned to stone? How would they handle the world that returns? How would Raya handle the pain of looking into her Father’s eyes and realizing he doesn’t even know who she is or who he is.
OR- what if it was only Namaari who hadn’t been turned to stone out of most of the land, then was dealt with the choice of being honest with Raya about EVERYTHING or taking the opportunity to flip the script and keep her innocence in all of this?
Bonus- yet terrifying idea- Namaari keeps the truth from her about how Sisu’s gem broke, wanting peace for her sins. She skips the details about Fang’s part in it- weaving a tale about how it was everyone’s collective fault- and how they had become friends despite the hostility between the various lands. Basically the betrayal and the last six years erased the more people she’s told- until it’s just a bad thought in the back of her head.
Still- It’s her biggest lie and she feels guilt by it. only in time does she accept that she’s made her choice and it was too late to turn back.
Raya and her are married, the nations all aligned and good- Kumandra is formed and better than ever. Everyone is happy
Then, just like that, everyone remembers the real story- everyone’s memories returning all at once.
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lea-russo333 · 2 months
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Anything you want
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Mary Earps x reader
warnings: 18+ (not smut but suggestive), fluff
summary: Mary made a promise to reader if she scored
not proof read
short
I don't really like this, but I've decided to post it anyway.
pls send in feedback if you have any :)
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Her eyes were glued to you, she couldn't pull them away. You swayed your hips in time with the music, dragging your hands along your body. The little red dress you decided to wear hugging your soft curves perfectly. You were absolutely captivating to her. Your eyes locked in that moment, and she felt a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched your eyes drag along her body, shamelessly checking her out. You made your way over to the booth she was sitting in alone, the rest of your teammates either on that dance floor or at the bar. Watching as her eyes travelled along your body. 
“Come dance with me” you said, grabbing her hands and trying to pull the tall girl up to her feet. The loud music of the club thumping in your head.  
“why don't you come over here and sit with me?” she tugged you down forcefully onto her lap, hands gripping your hips to keep you in place.  
“Mary” you whined trying to pull yourself off her “people are going to see” a giggle left your lips as she once again pulled you back down.  
“Let them, I'm getting tired of hiding you” you could feel her warm breath tickle the side of your ears as she spoke, sending a shiver down your spine. “Want them to know that you're mine”. She started kiss along your neck, trailing along your shoulder blade to the bottom of your ear, a pleasant hum leaving your mouth as she sucked particularly hard on your sweet spot. 
You had known Mary for only a short amount of time, having only joined the team a few months ago. but you became close friends quickly, the both of you feeling the strong connection between you too. The friendship quickly turned into something more when a drunken kiss was shared between you. she was much older than you  
“Is this you talking or the alcohol?” you questioned with a slight giggle as she continued to press teasing kisses to your neck. 
“Drunk words are just sober thoughts, love” she turned you face back towards her, your noses almost touching. You watched her eyes slowly trail down towards your lips and back to your eyes, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she closed the small gap between you. You kissed her back, her soft lips slotting between yours perfectly. Kissing Mary had to be one of your favorite things to do, Youd spend all day kissing her if you could. Your lips moved against hers rhythmically as your fingers founding their way into her hair and tugging softly at the roots, you were rewarded with a soft moan for the other women, taking the opportunity to push your tong past her lips. 
You pulled away from the girl, her lips chasing after yours with a pout. You placed your hands on her shoulders pushing her back into the seat.  
“They’re watching” you whispered, playing with the ends of her hair. Her face was flushed and smiled graced her lips. She looked up to your eyes and then back to your lips, moving closer towards them again until you stopped her with another gentle push. You looked over her shoulder, making eye contact with Ella, her jaw nearly on the floor with what she had just witnessed. You smiled sheepishly at her and gave her a quick wink before turning you attention back to the girl Infront of you. 
“they're too drunk to remember anyway” she pressed her nose to your neck, kissing your collarbone and breathing in the subtle smell of your familiar perfume; the one she had brought you for your birthday. 
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Both of you observe the many people that filled the club, occasionally pointing out when one of you saw one of your teammates do something stupid or funny.  
“You played well today love” her fingers traced soft patterns of your hips as she spoke, your heart fluttering at the action. 
“So did you” you breathed out, turning to look at her with a grin. Man-united had a match earlier that day against Liverpool and had won 3-0; with 2 of those goals being yours. Your team had decided that it was a win worth celebrating and had all made your way to a club nearby. That was hours ago though, the time now well into the early morning. 
“Do you remember what I said before they game?” the older girl questioned. You turned towards her, her eyes were dark with an all too familiar look in them, lust. You thought for a moment, thinking back to the previous morning. 
Mary had you on top of the kitchen counter, tongue in your mouth and hands clutching your waist under your shirt. You had one hand on her chest and the other on the back of her neck, pulling her closer to you. Your hips started to buck into the goalkeeper, desperate for more friction. You whined when she pulled away and her hands held your hips down. 
“We don't have time baby” she whispered. 
“I'll be quick” you replied with a pout “I promise” she let out a small chuckle at your words. 
“As much as I would love to see how fast I can make you cum, we have to be at the training grounds in 5 minutes” she said while looking at the watch on her hand “and it takes 10 minutes to get there, so were already running as late as it is”. She ran her thumb over the angry wrinkles between your furrowed brows, whispering a quick apology. 
“How about this then” she spoke while helping you off the counter and collecting both of your bags “if you score today, we can do anything you want when we get home”. 
“Anything?” you raised your eyebrow. 
“anything” she held out her pinky towards you. 
“Okay then” you smiled and gave her a quick kiss while locking your pinky's and walking out the door. 
“You still with me love” her soft voice brought you out of your thoughts and you looked at her with a wide grin. 
“I do remember” you leaned in closer and pressed your lips to hers once again, your lips moving together with ease. Her fingers brushed against you face as the two of you made out, not caring anymore about the people around you. She reluctantly pulled away, grabbing both of your jackets and bags and pulling her up with. 
“Well...how about we go home, and I'll give you what I promised”. 
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a-little-revolution · 29 days
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Hiya! I'm writing a character with dwarfism (achondroplasia specifically) and I had a quick question. She's a minor background character but I wanted her to still be represented properly and accurately. I'd like for her to be a baker and this is in a medieval fantasy setting.
What are things I should keep in mind as she works in a kitchen? My main concern is the best way for her to get around the kitchen, like going from one counter to the next.
I also want to make sure I don't have her doing any tasks that would hurt her, or show her doing things that would be impossible to do (like bending a certain way).
Would things like kneading dough, mixing ingredients, etc. cause any issues with pain? Obviously it depends on the person but I just wanted to check since most things I see online mention pain in the spine and legs, and reduced joint mobility.
I imagine it would be hard for her to stand for long periods, would a specific type of chair or back brace help? Are there any specific models of chairs you know/like that I can use as a reference for drawing her chair?
Hello!! I'm very passionate about this question as I myself am a baker with dwarfism!! I went to college for it and worked for a while, but most bakeries don't want disabled folks in the kitchen - so my career has changed to customer service while I sort out what I want to do (likely tattooing or something artsy).
Here's some things that would make the kitchen more accessible to your character with dwarfism:
Lower counters, or platforms/stools throughout so she can access her work space
Sinks with long handles (possibly an attachment) for easy reaching. Keep in mind that most LP have a shorter reach as well as height, so long counters and deep sinks can pose an obstacle.
Smaller tools to account for her hand size - stainless steel bowls that are lightweight and easy to carry
Yes, kneading and mixing could cause pain if she has arthritis, which many little people do - she may choose to wear a wrist brace, use a stand mixer, or take frequent brakes
Her apron will be long on her, so she'll likely hike it up at the waist when she ties it
Seating areas, such as near the stove when brakes are available, is something I find I need, but she may or may not depending on her capabilities and leg pain. Her chair would have short legs and a shallow seat with good back support.
She may choose to have other people carry hot pots of water or spill able things to the sink, as getting off and on a stool/platform with such things are a safety risk. She'll likely carry thing like that on her hip.
When I was in baking school I bought a lot of my own tools - smaller and lighter rolling pins, grips for lids, wooden tongs to reach things and turn on elements, etc.
I hope this helps! - E
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141wh0re · 14 days
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Been A Day - Rough Gaz
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Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Creampie, Fingering, Rough Sex, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Squirting, Dirty Talk
WC: 1.5k
Pairings: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x CivilianFem Reader
AN: I should be doing homework, but instead, I'm performing my civic duty and offering my contribution to the Rough Gaz hc. <3 c;
-skelly
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The front door opened and closed with a harsh slam. Gaz stepped through the doorway, his face hard set in frustration.
Everything about this last mission had gone to shit. Everyone involved barely made it out by the skin of their teeth, and their target got away.
Price called off the mission, thinking it best to get everyone home safe and refreshed to come back with a better plan of attack.
Gaz tossed his gear into the hall closet, ready to let out his pent up stress and frustration out and lose himself in his girlfriend's tight cunt.
His shoulders were tense in his black hoodie, his cap still sat atop his head, and his heavy boots remained on his feet as he pushed further into their flat.
There you stood at the island of the kitchen, dressed in one of Kyle's T-shirts and a pair of his boxers, a warm smile already gracing your lips as he entered the kitchen.
"Welcome home, love," you greeted cheerily, continuing to mix a bowl of brownie batter.
The corner of Kyle's lip threatened to tug in a grin. He said nothing as he stepped behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling your back flush to his front.
He buried his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaled deeply.
His cock was already swelling at the smell of your scent mixed with the lingering scent of him on your skin.
"Missed you, princess," he murmured hoarsely into your neck as his large hands slid under the material of your shirt, smoothing over the skin of your soft tummy and meaty hips, gliding up towards your breasts.
A deep groan reverberated through his chest against your back, sending chills down your spine. His full lips pressed firmly against the junction of your neck and shoulder, pressing a line of kisses up to your ear.
Your lips parted in a breathless sigh, leaning your head back on his shoulder to allow him better access to your neck.
"Missed you too, love," you moaned in response, melting in his hold.
Kyle's hands grew rougher, his frustration still very much present from the rough mission.
He slid one of his hands out from under your shirt, moving to grip the front of your throat, his strong fingers squeezed the sides of your throat.
"Kyle," you whined, pressing the curve of your ass against his hardening cock in the front of his jeans.
He growled in response, roughly pinching your nipple with his other hand, emitting another whine from your lips.
"Gotta get you nice and wet for me, princess," he growled hungrily into your neck, sucking possessive hickeys into the sensitive skin.
Warmth pooled low in your abdomen, slick already forming in the material of Kyle's boxers adorning your hips.
Without warning, Kyle pulled his hands from your throat and breast, and shoved the boxers down your legs before kneeling behind you.
He roughly pushed your top half down on the counter top, using a large palm between your shoulder blades.
You gasped when you felt Kyle's rough hands firmly grip the globes of your ass, groping and kneading them before landing harsh slaps on the flesh.
"Fuck.." he breathed out as he parted your cheeks, exposing your puckered hole and slit, arousal already coating the inside of your thighs.
"Gonna let me fill all your pretty holes, princess?" he asked gruffly, hastily tossing his ball cap onto the counter beside you.
Your only response was a needy moan, ready for the assault he was about to unleash on your cunt.
He dove straight in, licking thick stripes from your clit to your puckered hole, making your knees buckle and your hands grip the counter top.
Kyle let out a satisfied groan as he buried his face between your legs, hungrily lapping at your slit, tongue swirling hastily between your tight entrance and swollen nub.
Strong, thick digits snaked up the inside of your thighs until they joined his mouth at your core, shoving two strong fingers into your tight entrance, sliding them in and out to be coated by your juices as his tongue mercilessly flicked at your clit.
Loud moans left your lips parted while your back arched, and you chased the pleasurable heat blooming deep within the pit of your stomach.
As soon as the pads of his fingers came into contact with the spongy pleasure point within your walls, he kept his focus there, hooking his fingers harshly to apply just enough force.
"Fuck- Kyle!" you cried out, seeing stars form behind your eyes as your lips were stuck in a permanent 'O'.
Kyle groaned against your clit, suckling harshly on your sensitive nub, before increasing the pace of his fingers until you were gushing on his fingers and tongue.
An animalistic growl tore through Kyle's chest before he pulled away, only to bring his palm to your folds and relentlessly swipe his fingers back and forth in quick succession until your juices are coating your thighs, the floor, his hand, and his jeans.
"That's it, princess. Make a fuckin' mess for me," he growled.
Your legs trembled beneath you as broken moans tore through your throat to leave your voice raw and hoarse.
Kyle pulled his hand back to support your legs while he gave you a moment to breathe.
But Kyle wasn't done with you yet.
He quickly rose to his full height and kicked your legs further apart. The sound of his belt and jeans being undone had your eyes bulging in panic.
Kyle pulled his thick cock from the confines of his jeans, veins bulging, shaft rigid with an angry red, weeping tip.
His left hand move to grip your waist, keeping you in place while his right hand guided his thick head to your throbbing core. He tapped his cock against your clit a few times, sending jolts of electric currents through you.
"Better hold on tight, princess. It's been a day," he grumbled before easing his thick shaft in your tight entrance.
The deliciously familiar stretch burned and eased as he rocked his hips gently at first before being fully seated within you.
Kyle groaned aloud as he felt your walls flutter around his cock, biting harshly on his bottom lip as he watched himself disappear within your folds.
His hand slid up the length of your back until his fingertips were snaking into your hair and harshly gripping it at the base of your scalp, tugging your face up from the counter to put your lower back in an almost painful arch.
Tears of pleasurable overstimulation formed in your eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment as his hips rutted into you from behind. The force of his thrusts had your hips slamming into the edge of the counter top. He set a bruising pace while simultaneously slapping your ass.
"Good fuckin' girl. Tha's right, take my fuckin' cock," he grunted out, punctuating each word with a deep thrust, effectively stealing the air out of your lungs.
The thick vein running along the underside of his rigid shaft dragged deliciously over the spongy spot within your gummy walls, the head of his cock angrily ramming against the spot until you were gushing for him with a loud cry. But his hips were unrelenting as he chased his own release.
"Milk me with your greedy cunt, princess. Let me fill ya," he rasped as his hand in your hair moved to caress the column of your throat, and his other arm wrapped around the front of your waist, keeping you flush to him as he rammed into you.
He squeezed the sides of your throat, controlling the oxygen flow to your already fucked out brain.
His hips were stuttering and faltering in pace as soon as he felt the tears you were holding back leak onto his forearm.
Kyle roughly pushed you back down against the counter, gripping your hips in a firm hold as he fucked into you faster.
A string of grunts and moans fell from his lips as hot ropes of thick cum painted your inner walls white with his spend.
Heavy pants fell from both of your lips as he stayed seated in you as his cock softened.
Kyle leaned down and pressed soft and affectionate kisses across your shoulder blades and up to your neck until reaching your lips.
"I love you, princess. Ya did so good f'me. Promise tomorrow's all about you," he murmured into the kiss.
A fucked out smile graced your lips as you lie spent on the counter top, "I love you too, Kyle."
He grinned down at you and slowly removed himself from your abused cunt before stepping back to admire the mess he made out of you.
His cum leaked from your throbbing, swollen cunt, and mixed with your juices coating the inside of your thighs.
He hummed in approval before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards the bathroom where he ran you a nice hot bath, keeping you tucked firmly against his chest as he cleaned and showered you with affection and soft praises.
______
@going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @crashtestbunny
My offering to you goddesses 🥹🙏🏻🖤
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satomatto · 4 months
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. //NSFW!vers PACK | nutrition; SFW!prev
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ch: suguru geto; nanami kento; okkotsu yuta; sukuna ryomen.
tw: nyotaimori; foodplay (?); alcohol. Sukuna has his own warning and I don't think I need to clarify that.
wc: 960
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GETŌ SUGURU
You are well aware that Geto prefers healthy food. He doesn't like to be fooled at meals, and he's really good with food, carving the rules of table behavior on his forehead. And just think how good he can be with you, especially when you are lying on his table, so beautiful and neat for him.
Your soft tummy heaving from your ragged breathing, your chest trembling as he thoughtfully guides his chopsticks across your thighs, where the lines of sushi rest in neat rows. Occasional gusts of warm air here and there: his sleeve inadvertently touching your thigh, a piece of sashimi resting on your chest that he's long since eaten, and now he's just wandering his chopsticks thoughtfully over you. He doesn't even touch you, but you're writhing with desire when he finally grazes your skin, you sniffle softly and your pussy squeezes hard, making a loud popping sound.
His chops roll over your clit, tingling and twitching as you tearfully press your thighs together, trying to keep quiet, still covered in sushi, but Geto seems to have lost interest and is now just playing leisurely with your needy pussy. As the wetness pools between your thighs, it's not very comfortable to move the chopsticks - you're gripping them too tightly. It's probably time to do a little rearranging, don't you think?
You wrinkle your nose at the discomfort bubbling somewhere in the bottom of your belly as he forces you into a rather humiliating pose - with your legs spread wide apart, forcing you to support your own hips in the position he wants and placing the remaining food on your tummy. His cock sits comfortably between your slippery labia, moving slowly between them and slipping out immediately, hitting your tortured clit each time.
Someday, this man will drive you crazy.
NANAMIN
The man is not a fan of such things, but if such a case comes up - why not? Anything you ask for (within reason, of course). Oh, darling, do you really think he'll ignore such an important stage as preparation? Honestly, he will definitely take care of it personally, take you to the shower and rub your back. His foreplay is always pleasant and almost sweet.
That's why he chose the liqueur especially for this occasion. The way it spreads over your skin - a sticky sensation trailing between your thighs, the almost luscious taste on your tongue, and his tongue slowly following the dark paths - makes you bite your lip, muffling another moan.
Wet muscle dances on your thigh as the man works his tongue between your legs. Your back arches with a pleasant shiver rolling down your spine in waves, meeting the soft support in his hands. The bottle has long since been emptied, but his interest still hasn't waned - it's only gaining momentum while you feel terribly exhausted by the entire thing. As it turns out, it can last a lot longer than you thought. You want to ask Kento to end it there, but as you look down, you realize that he's aware of your condition and is just finishing what he started. Perhaps, at times, you're actually glad for the level of understanding you've reached.
OKKOTSU YUTA
Yuta is a sweet boy, he loves to please you and if you decide to treat him to a strawberry ice cream on a hot day, he definitely won't say no. Even if that ice cream is smeared all over your boobs and dripping down your belly, while you twitch every time he sucks on your exhausted nipples.
More to the point: you can lay out a path of strawberries on your body, letting him pick the places he'd like to give his attention to, he's more than happy to support you in your little endeavor. Mixing your secretions with strawberry juice while he rolls your clit over and small berry in his mouth? Push a few berries into you so he can then scoop them out of your hole with his own tongue? Ah, maybe this time he should add some chilly syrup on top? Come on, baby, you're a real picnic for a hungry guy.
Okkotsu has a genuine desire to please you, your preferences are of as much interest to him as his own, he'll fuck you with a goddamn cucumber if you want him to, but it's not really... With his hands gripping your hips so tightly and his tongue pushing into your hole enthusiastically, slurping near it, you just can't help but look down.
That smile won't leave you any peace...
RYŌMEN SUKUNA
You feel fingers in your pussy, they curve, twisting, scratching the soft walls of your vagina almost desperately. The screams in the background make the tight knot in your stomach clench even tighter, you hear the crunching of bones as Ryomen moves that hand to penetrate deeper into you, curving those fingers at some incredible angle and still pointing perfectly into your sweet spot. "Too little for you, baby? Shh, I know," the mouth on his belly licks up and a heavy tongue flicks out of his huge mouth. Sukuna knows your sobs are a mixture of pain, humiliation, and fear, but isn't that beautiful to him? Smirking, he licks the slimy substance off your thighs - it's horribly messy, but you can't resist, jerking back and forth as his hot breath overtakes your pussy. You're sickened by how well Sukuna knows your body and how good he makes you feel, but in what a way!
Chuckling quietly as you desperately shake your hips, thrusting them up sharply in an attempt to get more attention to your neglected clit, Ryomen yanks the other man's hand up and licks your juices that are flowing down those wrists. The man's twisted arm still thrashes weakly in his grasp, but Sukuna pats his limbs back with ease as he continues to purr to himself and savor your taste. The crunch that cuts through the damp silence a couple seconds later is drowned out by a frantic scream. The big tongue on his belly, which he's replaced with someone else's fingers, is already pushing you to the edge, the heavy lump in your stomach finally dissolving, seeming to mingle with your arousal as you cum on his tongue, after hours of such frantic handling.
In fact, that's what food is to him. You know, he was even kind enough to share it with you. Isn't he anything but a generous ruler? As the salty, metallic-flavored liquid spread in your mouth, you weren't so pleased anymore. Your whole body was bathed in blood, it was starting to dry and tingle unpleasantly, but his lustful gaze, obsessively sliding over your smooth curves, made you tingle inside.
As his huge tongue licked you from head to toe, you felt like you were about to drown in drool, but when Sukuna lingered in a spot - kneading your tight muscles with his massive tongue - you felt a pleasant sense of relaxation gradually envelope your body.
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rekaning · 9 months
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Domestic Bliss | Elijah Mikaelson x Wife!Reader
Additional tags: Human!AU, fluff, no use of Y/N
Summary: A sweet morning in the Mikaelson household.
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It was rare that he awoke later than you. While he worked late into the night almost daily, his internal clock was primed to wake him at the same hour every morning. Usually, he would turn over on the bed you both shared and gaze over you for a few minutes, a lazy smile on his lips as you softly snored in your sleep.
The alarm on his phone would then buzz, prompting him to rise from the bed and turn it off. He'd gather his clothes and enter your bathroom to shower and get dressed.
Today, however, he must have been far more tired than he thought. Last night had been full of meetings and deadlines. The company was implementing a brand new system and having that integrate with the old one was causing some issues to their overall production. The errors were not unforeseen but they did take a bit of time to correct and smooth over. Thankfully, he'd had the foresight to launch the new change on a Friday, so that left Saturday and Sunday, work-free.
Of course, he had a few of his most trusted IT employees working overtime today to work on any more kinks in the system so that it'd be good to go on Monday.
But that would be an issue he'd worry about until then. For now, he turned over, like he usually did, but found that you were not asleep beside him. In fact, you weren't there at all.
That was when the smell hit him. The delicious scent of your cooking.
He pushed himself off the bed, stopping by the bathroom before heading down to you. As he grew closer and closer to the kitchen, he could hear you humming. It wasn't a particular tune he was familiar with. Just a nonsensical tune that had no particular pattern. He leaned on the threshold for a moment, just watching you. Your humming was up-beat and whatever melody or rhythm you could hear in your head caused your body to sway to its tune.
He chuckled quietly before stepping forward. He knew you felt his presence when you stopped dancing, staying still for him so that he could encircle his arms around you. They enveloped you in a warm back hug, his head leaning down onto your shoulder as he kissed the side of your cheek lightly.
"Good morning," he whispered, his voice deep and husky from sleep.
A shiver ran down your spine at his sleep-laced tone. You carefully turned down the heat of the stove before turning in his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your eyes shining with love and warmth at him, you scratched the hairs at the base of his neck, pushing down at it gently so that his lips met yours in lazy kisses over and over again.
After one last kiss, you touched your forehead to his, eyes closed in contentment as you sighed, "Good morning, 'Lijah."
A crckling pop had the two of you turning to the stove. You turned in his hold, quickly picking up the tongs left on the side of the counter and flipped the strips of bacon that were sizzling on the pan.
Elijah resumed the position of plopping his head on your shoulder as you went about setting up another pan on the other burner. He moved along with you to the refrigerator as you retrieved a few eggs and a packet of sausages before moving back to the stove.
He watched you work, the smell of the cooking meet causing his stomach to growl. You chuckled, "Almost done, Mr. Mikaelson. Perhaps you should call down the hellions?"
Elijah grinned then laid a kiss at your shoulder, "Of course, Mrs. Mikaelson."
He pushed away from you and walked back toward the stairs, only pausing as he heard whispers coming from the top. He climbed the steps quietly and stopped at one of the doors lining the corridor. He put his ear to door and could hear two distinct voices chatting back and forth.
An amused smile spread on his lips as he knocked. He heard frantic scrambling and opened the door a few seconds after.
He peeked his head in, the room was decorated in mixture of muted and soft blues. His eyes landed on the small form seated at the head of the bed in the middle of the room.
The young boy, hair the shade of deep brown, his jaw structure and pointed nose the same as Elijah's. But eyes the same shape and color of yours. A perfect blend of the two of you.
The young boy smiled, though his eyes darted down to the floor to his left, "Morning Papa!"
Elijah's heart always soared at hearing those words. He had long desired to be a father and the day you had revealed that you were pregnant, he had collapsed at your feet, hugging you close and kissing at your belly, whispering his thanks to you repeatedly.
Elijah walked further into his son's room and went to sit at his left. He reached out and stroked the messy tresses and kissed the young boy's forehead, "Good morning, Björn. Say," he said slowly, "You wouldn't happen to know where Astrid is, hmm?"
His son gulped and his eyes once again darted down to the floor on his left before moving back up again to his. Björn shook his head, "Uh-uh."
Elijah smiled mischievously as he heard small tinkling laughter from under the boy's bed. He stood, making a show to go over to Björn's closet, "She wouldn't happen to be...in here!" He opened the door quickly on the last word and found nothing. But the laughter under the bed was still going strong.
Elijah then walked over to the wardrobe on the other side, opening the door to it with the same force, "What about here?!"
No one there as well, but the giggles were unmistakable. Elijah scratched at his chin and moved closer to his son's bed from the right. The young boy was grinning up at him.
Without warning, he dropped to the floor and looked under the bed, "Got you!"
A surprised squeal erupted from the girl he had grabbed around the torso.
Her giggles were music to his ears. He lifted her in his arms as she wrapped her smaller arms around his neck, "Papa!"
He kissed at the side of his daughter's head, "Good morning, my little butterfly."
He set the girl down on the bed, placing his hands on his hips as he looked between the two young children.
"Your mother is making breakfast."
Without another word his children were racing to the door as he called out to them, "No running!"
Their hurried steps slowed a bit at his words. He stepped toward the stairs. Björn was already halfway down while Astrid was stood on the first step still. She looked to him, her small pudgy hand stretching out to him. He smiled warmly, she was still very unsure of going down any stairs without him or you.
He firmly grasped her tiny hand in his, her fingers all wrapping around his index. He took the steps one at a time. Björn, already at the bottom of the stairs, stood impatiently, tapping his foot for his sister and father to get down already.
What felt like an eternity to him, they finally reached the last step and he and his sister rushed over to the kitchen where their mother was.
Elijah entered the kitchen, leaning against the threshold once again and smiling brightly at the sight before him. You had laid out the plates on the kitchen table. You were currently squat on the ground, hugging your children and drowning them in kisses all around their faces. Their giggles and laughs warmed his heart, your smile piercing his soul. The stresses of his work always seemed to melt away here with you and your children.
He stepped closer to bring you all into a warm embrace.
This was his happiness.
217 notes · View notes
daisynik7 · 8 months
Note
hruuuu! <3 for your y2k karaoke party,
"SOS" by Rhianna with getou suguru - smut+fluff?
ughh i love him so much tyyy
SOS
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Pairing: vampire!Geto x f!reader
Rating: Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Word Count: ~1.5k
cw: vampire au, fluff, smut – PIV sex (missionary), cunnilingus, fingering, cum-eating, dirty talk
Author’s Notes: Thank you for sending in this request @idkks4m! LOVE this song, a classic hit for the y2k karaoke party! Wanted to try my hand at something a little bit different from my usual; I’ve seen the idea of vampire!Geto floating around here before, and I think it’s brilliant! Here’s my take on it. Hope you enjoy! MDNI banner created by @/cafekitsune. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading!
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It wasn’t supposed to go this far. 
That’s what you think as his fangs trail your neck, enough pressure to feel it scratch the surface, not enough to pierce the skin. His fingers glide down your arms, cold and lifeless, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your burning body. How have you never noticed the differences before? The pale complexion, the bleakness in his eyes, the tight smirk on his lips, posing as human. How he only visits the café you work at right before closing, ordering his typical coffee, black.
Just your presence and I second guess my sanity.
You did notice the oddities but ignored them. Because no matter how uneasy he makes you, how many red flags you see, your carnal desires overtake everything else. After all, you were the one to invite him to your own home after your shift ended. It didn’t even cross your mind that this was an unsafe, reckless decision. All you could think of was the thrill of being alone with this mysterious, sexy stranger.
I should have never let him in. 
You had a choice. He asked you the question, standing outside your front door, baring his pointed canines at you, a warning sign. “May I come in?” And all you had to do was say no. You’re not sure what possessed you in that moment. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was lust. Whatever it was, it made you say yes. And now, you’re absolutely terrified, undoubtedly nervous. Completely aroused.
Please someone help me. It’s not healthy for me to feel this.
His hands slide around your waist, pulling you in closer, lips joined together into a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue swirls around yours, and you can’t help yourself. You lick into his mouth, feeling for the tips of those fangs. The vibration from his voice as he chuckles sends a shiver down your spine. “You’re a curious one,” he says, eyes studying your face. “Aren’t you scared?”
You swallow hard, throat dense with saliva, shaking your head meekly, unable to get a word out. 
He laughs again, tipping your chin up with his finger to inspect you more thoroughly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Do you believe me?”
More confidently this time, you nod, managing a stuttering, “Yes.”
He swipes his tongue across his teeth, smiling. “Good girl.”
You lead him further inside, straight into your bedroom, common sense nonexistent at this point. There’s no reason for you to trust him; you know nothing about him. And yet, here you are, laid out and legs spread like a silver platter for him to feast on. Totally willing to submit to whatever he chooses to do with you. And for the first time since you met him a few weeks ago, there’s a flash of emotion in his eyes. 
It’s hunger. 
“Strip for me,” he demands, towering over you at the end of the bed, scanning your figure up and down. You obey, sliding out of your pants, hoisting off your shirt, leaving only your underwear on.
“Everything,” he growls, following suit. You marvel at his chiseled abs, salivating as he slides his sweatpants and boxers off, revealing his stiff cock sprung against his abdomen. Soon, you’re both completely naked, inspecting each other’s bare bodies, craving for a touch.
He smiles, more genuine than you’ve ever seen before. “You’re beautiful.” 
You gulp down the spit collecting on your tongue to respond, “So are you,” scooting up the bed to lean against the pillows. 
Crawling on top, he brushes your cheek with his thumb, whispering, “You’re going to be my little plaything tonight.”
You pull him down, kissing him sloppily, unable to contain your arousal any longer. He moans into your mouth, hands squeezing at your breasts, relishing the plump flesh between his cold fingers. He pinches your nipples, flicking over them with the pads of his thumbs, enjoying the way you whine at his touch. You reach for his cock, stroking it in your fist feverishly, impressed by the size. There are a million different questions running through your mind, but you save them for later, wanting nothing else except to be consumed by him. 
Not literally, of course. Though the possibility of that isn’t completely off the table just yet. And maybe that’s what makes this so exciting.
“Fuck me.” It slips from your lips, desperate and needy. Pussy aching to be filled with whatever he’s willing to offer you. 
“Not yet,” he breathes out, kissing you on the forehead. “I need to taste you first.” Suddenly, the fear returns, about ready to shove him off and run for your life. He laughs, scattering gentle kisses down your body, positioning his head between your thighs. “Not like that. Like this.” He flicks his tongue across your clit, slurping and sucking at your swelling bud until you’re bucking your hips against him, greedy for more. 
“Just as I thought,” he hums, spreading his tongue along your folds, collecting your slick. “You taste incredible.” He slips his middle finger inside you, curving at the tip to stimulate your G-spot. “Come for me. Give me your orgasm. Want to drink it up.”
You grip his hair between your fingers, climaxing on his face. He doesn’t let up, pressing himself deeper into your sopping cunt, slobbering all over you. When he pulls out, he sticks his cum coated finger into his mouth, sucking off your cum. Biting his lip, he wraps a fist around his shaft, tapping the tip on your sensitive clit. “You’re being such an obedient slut right now. Are you ready to take this cock?”
You’re in a daze, eyes half-lidded from your intense orgasm, still aching for him inside you. All you can do is nod dumbly, watching him guide his entire length inside you easily until he bottoms out.
“Fuck,” he grunts, nestling himself comfortably inside you. “You’re eating this dick up, aren’t you sweetheart?”
“Please,” you whine. “Give it to me.”
He chuckles, amused by your adorable reaction. “Okay, beautiful. Since you asked so nicely.” He grips your waist, holding you steady as he fucks you, hips thrusting wildly into your cunt. It’s even better than you imagined, his thick cock filling you up like nothing ever has before. He’s relentless, pace only increasing as your quiet moans become louder, your legs wrapping around him tighter. 
“This is what you want, huh? To be fucked like this.” His grip on you becomes firmer, nails digging into your flesh, imprinting on your skin. “You don’t even know me, and still, you let me in. What a stupid girl you are.”
You should be scared with the way he speaks to you, voice low and frigid, as if he can’t believe a human would be so foolish to let someone like him into their home, into their body. This is absolutely crazy, you admit it. But how can something that’s bad for you feel so fucking good?
Palms pressed to his cheeks, you pull his face close to yours, foreheads touching. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” you whisper to him. “I trust you.”
His eyes flash, seeming human for a split second. “Silly girl,” he mutters, kissing you on the lips. You stay like this until he unravels, spurting his seed inside you. Your legs are still coiled around him, holding him close to you as he comes down from his high.
“Wow,” he huffs, collapsing beside you. He’s pristine, like a marble sculpture, no trace of sweat or hint of blush on any inch of his body. You reach for him, tracing the outline of his lips, then his sharp jawline, noticing how cool he is against your fingertips.  
He smiles, letting you study him. “I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me.”
You do, and you’re tempted to ask all of them. However, in this moment, you’re not sure if you’re ready to know just yet. Instead, you ask the most vital one. A question that you should have known the answer to right from the start, human or not. “What’s your name?”
He laughs, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Geto. Suguru Geto.”
~~~
In the morning, he’s gone. You don’t expect him to stay, assuming what they say about vampires and daytime is true. Still, you’re saddened that he doesn’t. He never mentioned if he’d come in contact with you again. You assume he won’t, probably destined to move to another town where he can seduce a different woman, living in peace without his secret revealed.
So, it’s to your complete surprise when Geto does return later that night, smiling at you on your front doorstep, saying your name. “May I come in?”
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wreckedandpolemic · 4 months
Note
30, 35 and 54 w matty plss 🫶🤭
stress relief, part ii - matty healy
(mdni) so many moons ago i wrote this for matty and i did indeed promise a follow-up... better late than never?
warnings: 18+, oral (f and m receiving, unprotected sex, fingering, cumplay, literally filth from the jump im so sorry
“Game on,” Matty says with an audible grin, gripping your thighs and licking eagerly at your cunt. You swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock, the salty taste of him filling your mouth as the pressure of his tongue at your clit spirals through you. Pulling off, you spit on his length, wrapping your fingers around him and building up a slow rhythm that has his hips jumping into your hand. The cry he lets out is muffled between your thighs, his sure tongue faltering as his cock twitches.
You press a delicate kiss to his drooling tip, taking him into your mouth again as he whimpers into your cunt. Your head bobs, teasing him, and he threads a hand into your hair, the sting in your scalp a warning. A muffled moan falls from your lips, Matty devouring your cunt as you drip into his eager mouth.
Pressure builds in your belly, your cunt clenching around his tongue as his hips jolt, fucking into your mouth. Matty’s close, you can feel from the frenzied pace he sets; you swallow a gag as his cock bumps at the back of your throat. Blunt nails dig into your thighs, a confident tongue lapping at your clit and sending sparks shooting through your body. You’re a mess on top of him, whining desperately around his cock as ecstasy spirals through your blood.
Hollowing your cheeks, you deepthroat him, letting him fuck your mouth and savouring the way he moans between your legs. Matty grazes his teeth across your clit, grinning into your cunt at your responding scream, stifled around his cock. Heat races up your spine as you grind against his mouth. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” he murmurs against you, sucking your swollen bundle of nerves and wiping your mind clean, pleasure cascading over you. 
“Come on,” you murmur, pulling off him and matching the pace with your hand. “You’re so close. Don’t you wanna cum in my mouth, all over my face, make a fucking mess of me?” you tease, running your fist along his length. “Cum for me, darling,” you whisper, licking softly at the head of his cock.
“Oh, fuck!” Matty cries, bucking into your hand, coming over your lips and chin. His stuttering moans reverberate through your cunt, sending bliss swirling in your chest.
Fingers dig into your thighs hard enough to bruise as you rock your dripping cunt against his face. “You lose,” you grin, licking his cum off your lips. “Make me come while I decide what I win.” You sit back up, knees bracketing his head as you grind against his face. His tongue swirls over your clit, intense pleasure rolling over you. “Matty, fuck,” you breathe, clenching around his tongue. “I’m so close.” Your cunt flutters against his mouth, and he brings his fingers up to toy with your clit. Your hips roll, heat licking deliciously under your skin. One more quick circle over your clit and you’re coming undone on top of him, waves of bliss cascading over you. Molten euphoria courses through you, sticky and hot, gushing over Matty’s lips and chin as your cunt pulses desperately. Matty tongue-fucks you through, pleasure and pain twining around each other intensely as your body wracks with sensation.
Eventually, though, you tap out, climbing off him with a satisfied moan. “You’re too good at that,” you half complain, stretching out your sore muscles.
Matty throws you a sleazy grin, making a deliberate show of licking you off his lips. “I try. Wait, you’ve got a bit of…” He wipes a thumb across your chin, collecting the cum pooling there. Disbelieving, you watch as he closes his lips around his thumb and swallows deliberately, a bolt of arousal striking at your core.
“Christ alive,” you mutter, grabbing his jaw and pulling him in for a messy kiss, the taste of both of you lingering on his tongue as he sweeps across your mouth.
“Decided what you win yet, love?” he murmurs as he pulls away, heat fizzing under your skin where he runs a hand along your body.
You tilt your head, considering, and grin, climbing off him to sit at the end of the bed. “So… you touch yourself to the thought of me?” He nods, almost nervously.  “I’d like to see that in action.” He wanders a hand down his chest, palming his cock with a groan. “Go on, baby. Play with your pretty dick for me,”
His chest is heaving, cock flushed red and drooling under his fist. Your name falls from his pretty, wet mouth, his head thrown back in pleasure as his hips roll into his hand. He’s gorgeous like this, spread wide for you, moaning sweetly for you, touching himself for you. You edge closer with a predatory grin, savouring the way his pace falters as he watches you intently.
“Feeling good, baby?” Matty nods, pace speeding, eyes blown wide with lust. Arousal coils thickly in your gut, your body screaming out to touch him. And then you realise: there’s nothing stopping you. You crawl between his legs, resting on your elbows and grinning tauntingly up at him. His hand stills as he looks down at you, every filthy thought in his head visible on his face. “Did I say stop?”
“N-no.” A quiet moan slips from his lips, the sound striking a bolt of lust at your core, your thighs clenching around your wet cunt. “Sorry,” he adds hastily, stroking his dripping cock slowly. You press a kiss to his inner thigh, the muscle twitching under your lips.
“Sweet boy,” you croon. “You want me?” You pepper kisses across his thigh and over his lower stomach, his appreciative moan sending a pulse of desire zipping down your spine.
“Fuck, yeah. Please,” he whines sweetly.
Rocking back on your heels, you can’t resist toying with your clit for a moment, moaning theatrically as you swipe two fingers over your swollen cunt. “Where do you want me to touch you?”
Matty groans, squirming. “I don’t know and I don’t care — I just want your hands on me,” he gasps. “Please,” he adds, pathetic and so sweetly desperate that you can’t bring yourself to drag it out any longer. You crawl towards him, kneeling so that he’s eye level with your tits. He dips his head to wrap his lips around your nipple, his tongue working over you deliciously, desire pumping hard and fast through your veins.
Pulling away, you tilt his head up, basking in his adoring gaze. “Wanna ride you,” you whisper, leaning close. “Do you want that, sweet boy?” He nods frantically. “Say please,” you add with a sly grin.
“Please,” he gasps, rolling his hips desperately against you. You lower yourself onto him, the stretch and burn divine in your cunt as he bottoms out, filling you gloriously. “So fucking tight,” he moans, burying his face in your neck and sucking a bruise into your skin. Your body is awash with pleasure, your cunt clenching mindlessly around him as the obscene sound of your hips meeting fills the room.
“God, Matty, fuck,” you moan, slamming your hips down as hard as you can, driving his cock impossibly deeper into you. His thrusts are erratic, wild, chasing his orgasm as he fucks into you. “Are you close, baby?” you gasp, rolling your hips so that your clit grinds against his skin, pleasure seeping into your bones, dripping down your insides, torturously hot.
He chokes on a breath, fucking into you deeply. “Yeah,” he gasps. “Yeah, ‘m close.”
Heat knots in your belly. “Want you to cum inside me,” you murmur, leaning close to his ear, feeling his hips jump at your words. You rock your hips faster, clenching around him, trying every trick to pull an orgasm from him. “Come on, Matty. Cum for me, baby,” you urge, his thrusts turning sloppy as he moans helplessly against your skin, every sound sending spikes of arousal into your cunt.
Matty thrusts into you one last time, a garbled whine falling from his lips as he spills inside you, cock pulsing divinely. You bring your lips to his as he cums, swallowing his gasps in a rapturous kiss. Slowly, you lift yourself off him, whining quietly at the loss as you kneel between his legs. His eyes trail over you, gaze igniting flames under your skin. He’s transfixed by your cunt, his cum dripping out of you and pooling on the mattress. “So pretty,” he murmurs, running a finger over your cunt and circling over your clit, heat pooling in your stomach. Your knees ache, and you tell him as much, plying him with doe-eyes.
He croons sweetly in your ear, laying you down under him and mouthing over your tits, biting and licking over the bruised skin. You widen your legs, anticipation writhing under your skin like a live thing. “Matty, please,” you whine, and he finally obliges you, sliding two fingers into your soaked cunt. Your clit feels impossibly swollen, nerves a livewire as he rubs over it in quick circles. Your eyes screw shut against the waves of bliss washing over you as Matty crooks his fingers, filling you gorgeously. 
“Come on, love,” he murmurs. “Watch.” You prise your eyes open, your gaze falling to where his cum seeps out around his fingers, the evidence of your desire mixing in a slick tapestry on his sheets. Incoherent moans tumble from your lips, a cascade of wanton affection. Your orgasm builds, rolling bliss swallowing you, flames licking from the tips of your toes to the crown of your skull. “I’m the only one who gets to ruin you like this, you hear me?”
“God, Matty,” you moan, your mind numb. Ecstasy beats in your chest as you roll your hips against his hand; his clever fingers work at you skilfully. You clench your cunt around him, waves of pleasure building higher and higher until they crash over you, Matty’s name falling from your lips in a scream. Your brain is melting, leaking from your ears and dripping down your sweat-soaked body as you writhe under him.
You’re sure you must be glowing, breath coming in short gasps as Matty brings his soaked hand to your mouth. Dutifully, you part your lips, the taste of both of you hot on your tongue. “You like that, gorgeous?” You moan appreciatively around his fingers, a slick pop ringing out as he pulls them free. He wipes his hand on the pillow, dipping his head to kiss between your tits before climbing off you. “You wanna get in the shower?” You nod, making no move to get up. “Poor baby,” he murmurs. “Need me to carry you?”
“Yeah,” you mumble, eyes slipping closed as he scoops you off the bed. The steady thump of his heartbeat soothes you as you rest your head against his chest.
“How do you feel, baby? Better? Less stressed?” he teases, kissing the top of your head gently.
“Mmm, yeah. Thank you,”
“Anything for you,” he says, a coy smile on his lips that betrays the truth in his words. “Anything for you.”
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yangjeonginniepics · 1 year
Text
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Hyunjin x sub!fem!reader
Rated: explicit 18+. MDFI
CW: Dom/sub dinamics, Gagging, cum eating, cumming inside. fingering, rimming (f receiving), slight voyeurism, squirting, anal, overstim, dacryphilia, rough sex, somnophilia,free use
please let me know if I forgot any cw 🙏
word count: 1.8k
Part 2 /continuation of the minho x reader
Dumpster series
Hyunjin eyes were poking out from the edge of the kitchen entrance door, his eyes shone bright while watching you eat your breakfast on the floor.
"Hey" he drew your attention softly "Don't mind me, keep doing what you're doing" he told you after you had turned your head to look at him. He kept walking towards you as you turned back to eat your scrambled eggs. Kneeling right behind you, you felt his fingers brushing against your lower hips and slid them down the side of your ass.
"You look so delicious like this" He bit his lips and have your butt a harsh slap. "So inviting, just begging to be taken." He hooked one of his fingers under the thin line of the tong you were wearing. "This excuse for underwear doing nothing to hide how eager your asshole is to just have a cock shoved right in '' he tore the small string leaving your genitals completely uncovered.
He rubbed around your private areas avoiding touching it directly which caused you to shiver in anticipation.
"Am I making your breath this shaky baby? Are you such a whore for my touch?" He ceased his movement.
"Please" you squirmed and groaned eager for him. Your behavior was compensated with a hard slap to your ass once again causing you to moan super loud.
"Keep it quiet over there I am trying to focus" you heard seungmin shout from another room.
"You heard him baby, gotta keep down. Or should I just gag you because I know what a cockslut you are and you'd never be able to control yourself when I am with you?" He whispered in your ear while leaning over you keeping your body caged against the tiled floor. You could only respond by giving him low wordless whines, almost as you were about to cry.
He nibbled your ears for a few seconds as he slowly brought his hands to your ass cheeks and spread them open, camly leading his now lube coated finger to your entrance in order to stretch you open for him.
"Ho-" you tried asking him but got cut off by how good the feeling of him stretching you was. The way his finger dragged into your hole sent shivers down your spine, your cunt was leaking so much it dripped down the tiles. You could feel a fire building in your abdomen along with the anxiety and eagerness to be filled.
He let out a chuckle at your action. "Such a dumb whore that you can't even pay attention to your surroundings when there is a possibility of getting your holes filled. You look so cute being so stupid I want to keep you alienated from everything. All you deserve and need to know is how to suck and take cock. The rest of us can handle it."
He inserted a second finger as he finished his sentence. You had given up keeping your head up and now your forehead was inside the pet bowl as the front part of your body was sprawled on the floor and you kept your butt up.
"Maybe we should add another rule, keep you plugged up at all times. You are so unbelievably tight, I didn't think it was possible for you to be so soon after last night." He said as he scissored your butthole and added the third finger. You were already lost in the feeling, unable to control yourself any longer, your eyes rolled back and your mouth gung open, drool pooling at the floor beneath you.
"Geez, you're such a dirty whore, truly born to be cumdump huh? Do you know how much is left inside this asshole? I can literally scoop it." You whined when he pulled his fingers out and left you empty. "You know, I cant let my hyungs and dongsaengs efforts go to waste like this." He brought his hand to your mouth. "Eat it, make their work worth it." You used all the strength in your body to hold your head up and took his fingers inside your mouth and licked them clean, the smell of the cum mix of different that had been left fermenting in your asshole for a few hours was intoxicating. You felt like you were about to cum untouched. "Wow, such a messy baby, can't even eat properly by herself huh?" Hyunjin was looking at your forehead and laughing as he picked pieces of egg stuck to your skin and fed them to you. "You're so lucky you have us to take care of you."
He then turned back and shoved four fingers into you without holding back. You shouted really loud at the rough intrusion and kept yelping as the pleasure mixed pain was too much for your small brain to handle.
Suddenly Hyunjin's movements halted causing you to whine so he would keep going. A few steps could be heard but you were too far out to care. When the steps ceased at your side, a hand grabbed your hair and yanked your head up without a single care if it hurt or not. "Didn't I say I was trying to focus? Have you lost all capacity to think and control your movements? Are we going to have to use tools to help you meet your basic needs now? Maybe we should train to be a decent pet better. But that is a task for another time. This will do for now" Seungmin shoved a cloth you were unable to recognise where it was from deep inside your mouth. You could smell Han's scent in it. "Don't you dare take it out." He directed at both you and Hyun.
"What did you put in her mouth?" Jinnie's curiosity spiked up but regardless restarted his movements.
"Just someone's underwear from the laundry bin. Judging by the precum stains, probably han's. She's lucky he's clean enough and doesn't have any skid marks" Seungmin joked and left the kitchen.
Hyunjin let out a grossed sound but quickly shrugged it off turning all his attention back to you. Feeling you were stretched enough he placed his other hand on the middle of you back indicating for you to arch yourself further to grant him better acess to your entrance. After you complied he used two finger from each hand to hold your asshole gaping and just let out a huge amount of spit he accumulated in his mouth just for this moment. Your position allowed his spit to travel down your insides and you could feel his saliva going further and further into you. Luckily Han's underwear muffled the loud moans you were making.
"Finally we've got to the good part." Hyunjin said as position himself behind you, aligning his cock with your hole and began to slowly push in. "Fuck it" was all you heard as he shoved himself in one go and started to piston in and out on you. Your scream was toned down by the improvised gag seungmin made for you, or else the police would've been contacted with how loud it would be.
The drag of each thrust hyunjin did sent sparks all over your body, the one who was barely holding itself up, was now shaking and about to fully give up and was only kept in place by hyunjin's grip on your hip.
You suddenly felt an incredible wave of pleasure like never before and sensed a weird liquid touching your knees and feet.
"Holy fuck baby, I didn't even know you could do that. I am so gonna show off to everyone I was the first one that made you squirt." Hyunjin said, making you realize what happened.
He kept fucking at an super fast pace. Your face was swollen and red as you cried from the overstimulation caused by hyunjin who was too involved with his own pleasure to even notice the state you were in. When his movements started to slow down as he was about to cum, he finally looked at you and noticed the state you were in.
"Awn is my baby crying from how good she feels? No? Are you feeling overestimated? Do you want me to stop? No? Well then I can't disappoint my baby now, can I?" He quit all movements, closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
"Well now I can go at it full speed again" He resumed his rough thrust even faster then before and brought one of his hand to your sopping wet pussy and the other one to draw circles at your clit. You were crying and thrashing your body around as the pleasure was overtaking every part of your brain. You shaked as you were convulsing and squirting again. Hyunjin gave a few last thrusts and came inside you.
"Uhmm, this looks amazing, but since we don't have a plug to keep inside I should probably make you eat it so it doesn't go to waste." He lowered his head and kissed your rim delicately, he pushed his tongue inside and sucked his own release into his mouth. He turned your head to him, removed the cloth and kissed you, pushing his cum back to your mouth.
"Now be a good toy and swallow." He smirked watching you gulp down. He released your head carefully and placed the underwear gag in your mouth. You slowly felt like you were about to lose consciousness.
You woke up about an hour later. You still were in the middle of the kitchen, laying in your discharge and drool, your ass burning from hyunjins rough treatment, your jaw aching from having han's underwear in your mouth for too long and cum now dripping from your pussy, indicating someone used you while you were knocked out.
You rolled to your back and spread yourself like a starfish to stretch yourself, getting your hair drenched in your fluids.
You heard a knock on the table next to you.
"Hey darling, how are you feeling?" Chan was looking at you with a kind, soft smile. You smiled back in the most relaxed joyfull way possible. "I can see how good you've felt. But what happened today, can't happen again" when he said those words your mind filled with worries, where you not good enough?? "Don't overthink it darling. It's not that bad. However we will go under some change of rules. Meet us in the living room in about an hour, just clean up the mess you made and wash yourself... at least your hair." He stood in front of you and waited until you got up in front of him. "We still love you, don't worry" he gave you a kiss in the forehead and left you to tend the mess.
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Please let me know what you think. If you read the minho one and would like to comment if there were improvements or deceptions I would appreciate it as well.
I know I am not the best writer, so constructive criticism would help me improve for sure, but please be kind 💕
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drivinmeinsane · 4 months
Text
Winter Break ※ 12 Days of Goosemas
Day Three ※ Henry Letham / Reader
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{12 Days of Goosemas Masterlist} ※ {Regular Masterlist} ※ {ao3}
※ Summary: During winter break, Henry decides to take you to meet his parents for the first time.
※ Rating: No mature content.
※ Content/Tags: Hurt/Comfort. Self Harm Scars Mentioned, Canon Divergence - Henry Lives, College Student!Reader, Not Entirely Reliable Narrator, Established Relationship
※ Word count: 1924
※ Status: Oneshot/Complete
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There is a repetitive sound in the room when you wake up, the dry rasping of graphite over paper. You know without looking that Henry is beside you on the bed. The weight of his observing stare pins you in place like a physical touch. You’re sure that he has likely been sketching you for a while. One of his hands reaches out to adjust the way the blanket drapes over your body.
You peer at the clock resting on the floor beside the mattress, staying still while he manipulates the cloth however he wants. It is already past noon. Usually, the both of you would be on campus by now, but winter break allows for small luxuries. No early morning and a lull in assignments feels almost decadent. 
“Good morning,” you say, fighting to speak through your yawn.
“‘Morning,” Henry returns, closing his sketchbook in favor of giving you a less remote kind of attention. He drops it onto the floor before sliding back under the covers to wrap an arm around your waist. You trace the spaces between the cigarette burns on his forearm as though you are an ancient astronomer mapping the constellations.
Just when you are on the cusp of falling back asleep, Henry speaks. His breath blows hot against your shoulder. “I guess we ought to get going, huh?”
You sigh in response, knowing that he is not wrong. There are only so many hours of daylight left and the two of you need to squeeze in a visit to his parents today. You have never met them before and Henry wants to make the trip to go see them, complete with something cooked at home.
Electing to officially start the day Henry rolls away and gets to his feet. You do the same, following him to the living room. While he steps out for a brief smoke, you beeline to the kitchen to start gathering up the ingredients. You are just setting the carton of eggs on the counter when he comes back inside and wedges himself next to you in the narrow space. He immediately starts helping by peeling and grating the potatoes while you dice the onions. Henry heats up a frying pan of oil on the stove, and you set to mixing the shredded potatoes, onion, flour, and eggs together. He begins frying the mixture after dropping sizable dollops of it into the pan. He doesn’t flinch when beads of hot oil hit his bare arm, just watches the food fry with a pair of tongs in his hand. 
As he keeps a close eye on the cooking process, you silently check in with him by running a hand down the knobs of his spine. He nods in response, letting you know he is alright for now. Slightly more at ease, you ready a plate with a folded paper towel and set it on the counter by the stovetop. You do the same with a tupperware container. It will help to drain the excess oil off of the latkes as he takes them out of the frying pan and when you move them off the plate for transport.
He and his mom had made them together every year while his dad busied himself with setting up the chessboard for a lengthy post-dinner game. Henry told you the previous day that it would not feel right to visit empty handed. A last minute dash to the grocery store following that conversation had helped put today’s plan in motion.
You observe him while he cooks, your hands itching for a pen and a piece of paper. Henry is the kind of person that makes you want to write about him, to let endless streams of consciousness flow onto a page. Those feelings made a home in you ever since you saw him hunched over his sketchbook on the floor in between classes. The two of you had quietly observed each other for weeks until you had finally approached him when you needed a partner for an assignment in your only shared class that semester. He had been shy and withdrawn, not at all like he is with you now. 
Coming out of your musings, you move to your partner’s side and begin transferring the latkes. Henry turns the burner off and sets the pan on another to cool down when he scoops up the last of them with the tongs. Now that the cooking is out of the way, the two of you get ready together. You do not dare to leave Henry alone right now, not when he is so vulnerable. Like a stubborn shadow, you will be stuck to his side for the foreseeable future. Thankfully, the next semester is a couple more weeks away. 
With a few hours of daylight left, you both get into Henry’s inherited SUV. He shoves a Radiohead CD into the player almost immediately after starting the vehicle, not able to bear the ambient silence right now. He turns the dial so that it is low enough to be considered background noise. You’re just able to hear the opening lyrics to Airbag over the sound of the vehicle. The tupperware container in your lap is hot, almost burning you through your pants during the start of the half hour drive to New Jersey. The chessboard and its pieces rattle noisily in their case on the back floorboard. The drive is mostly filled with conversation about an upcoming literature class that you will both be attending for the spring semester. Since you first met in freshman year, you have tried to share one class a semester. It gives the two of you something to look forward to during the day.
It is not until you are only a streetlight away from the destination when your nerves finally get the best of you. You turn to your boyfriend with a sheepish smile. “I’m a little nervous,” you admit.
“Don’t be. Mom and Dad are gonna love you. Promise.” He takes his hand off of the Ford Exploror’s steering wheel and offers you his pinky.
You hook yours around his and yelp as he clamps his finger onto it and draws your hand down towards his knee. He lets you go as soon as you make contact with the top of his thigh. You press your palm into the meat of it. The gnarled scar tissue arching across the top of it is apparent even through the material of his pants. You idly trace your fingers over the ridges, soothing you both with the repetitive motion. 
“We’ve got three minutes until we pull up. You’re gonna be fine.” He laughs a little and drums his hands on the steering wheel to the music playing on the radio. “Bet you would steal the title for favorite family member.”
You feel tears sting your eyes and you squeeze his leg. “Unlikely. I’ve heard you talk about them a lot. You’re their boy, Henry. That doesn’t change.”
The other college student just nods. Mahlus Gardens is just ahead on the left and flipping the signal on, he makes the turn through the gate onto the narrow drive. He leans forward, scanning for the right lot. Upon locating it, he slows to a stop. He angles the tires and pulls the parking brake. You sit in silence before he steels himself and unbuckles your seatbelt, letting the material start sliding across your chest. He undoes his as well and drops out of the SUV. He loops around to your side and pulls the door open before you can reach the handle. He skims a fingertip over the bridge of your nose and steps back to let you stand at his side so he can close the door. He snags the chess set out of the back before taking your hand. 
Together, you walk through the grass. One of your hands holding Henry’s and the other carrying the tupperware container. Finally Henry finds the right spot and comes to a stop. Beside you, he takes a shaky breath and lets go of your hand to drop into a squat. You kneel beside him.
“Mom, Dad, this is my partner. ‘Thought we'd stop by. The first night of Chanukah is tonight, and I…” He breaks off, almost curling into himself. You pick up the conversation in his stead.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Letham. It’s nice to meet you.” At your side, you hear Henry let out a small sob and swipe at his face. You put your hand on his back and rub it soothingly. “You’ve raised a wonderful son.”
You both sit on the lawn across from one another and settle in. You place the tupperware in the middle and Henry takes out two latkes and places them side by side in front of the family gravemarker. Henry sets up for a game of chess. As you play, you eat despite neither of you having much of an appetite. The food is comforting though, enough so that Henry manages to relax. He tells stories about his childhood, filling in for his parents, embarrassing stories and all. In return, you talk about how the two of you met. You share some of the best moments you have had with their son. It is bittersweet. An ache settles in your chest.
Once the sun is finally starting to tap the horizon, Henry calls a close to the match, you’ve been locked in a stalemate for the last half of it anyway. Your fingers brush as you jointly put away the game. He stands and dusts his pants off before offering you a hand up. You allow him to help you to your feet. Before making the journey back to the vehicle, Henry rests his hand on the stone for a moment. 
“Bye, Mom, Dad.” He makes no promises to be back. 
You are the one who drives back to the apartment. Henry looks out the window the entire time, biting at the sides of his fingers. He looks wrung out, on the cusp of screaming or crying. Maybe both. There is a reason you both had decided to save the visit until the break. Going to class and managing emotions would have been difficult. This is Henry’s first Chanukah without his parents. There was no way of knowing that the previous one would end up being the last.
You put the Explorer in park once you pull into the crowded parking lot of your apartment complex and tap his arm. He follows you to the door, emotionally exhausted. The tupperware container goes in the fridge and once you vacate the kitchen, you meet Henry at the window. The Shamash is in his hand as he looks down at his family menorah. It was one of the only things he had kept that belonged to his family. It was passed down through his father’s side for generations. You had painstakingly helped him clean and polish it the night before, a task he and his dad used to do together every December.
Once at his side, you pick up the lighter resting on the window ledge next to the menorah. You flick the wheel. It lights in a smooth motion, flame steady. You offer it to Henry. He tilts the candle and holds the wick in the fire until it ignites. You stand at his side in silent support as he wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue. He shakily starts to recite the blessings, tears running down his face.
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shy-peacock · 1 year
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Ratld crew as tiktoks-
Someone insults (human) Sisu in front of her friends.
Raya, Tong, Boun, Namaari and Noi: you can pack your things and leave-…there’s the door! (Points at the door) 😒😒😒😒😒
Sisu: THERES THE DOOR BITCH 😆 (points the wrong way)
Raya: (pushes her hand the correct way) 🤦‍♀️
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moon-spirit-yue · 5 months
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Raya with the gang: okay, we need to find a way to lure Namaari out-
Tong: perfect. Raya, you’re it
Raya, glaring: why do I always have to be Namaari bait? I already had to deal with her in Spine!
Sisu: because she’s obsessed with you, duh
Raya: she is not-
Everyone else in unison: yes she is
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bramble-scramble · 5 months
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Hello everyone!
Super Mario RPG has been in my life for over 15 years, but it wasn't until the remake came out that I gave it significant space in my brain. Both the absolute joy and love that the remake invokes, as well as the renewed fandom around it, have gotten me obsessed with some of these characters like never before.
Even so, I've been a bit hesitant to write or put some of my ideas out there... it's a very old fandom, one in which I feel so many interesting story ideas and philosophical angles to these characters must have already been explored, since the days of forum roleplays and the heyday of sprite comics which I remember from my earliest years online. It makes it somewhat intimidating for me to write down my own ideas for fear of retreading old ground that I didn't even know had been trod. Or perhaps just not being nearly as interesting as fanon that has existed before.
....But I'm also really obsessed and I need to get some stuff out of my brain. So I'm just gonna try some things! For fun!
And therefore I present to you, my first ever SMRPG writing. Let me know if you like it, and there will be more!
PS: the way I'm resolving the name discrepancy between some of the characters mentioned here, is that I take their remake names to be the names Smithy gave them, and their "original" names to be the names they eventually take for themselves. That just feels right to me. But that is not yet relevant to this story.
So, without further ado...
The Forging
This one wasn’t much to look at. Yet.
Smithy had given this project days of nonstop planning and engineering- then hours upon hours of heating, hammering, grinding, polishing, the bright sparks flying ceaselessly in his workshop, the sound of his hammer ringing out like a song on repeat. Everything was calculated to ensure just the right amount of sturdiness and strength while maintaining a lightweight flexibility. The perfect incarnation of a spear.
But what it all amounted to, as far as an untrained eye could see, was an unassuming wire-frame of spindly limbs, attached to a cauldron-like lower belly for some weight. The inert body lay stretched out on the slab like a stick figure, more like the beginning sketch of a piece of art than its end product.
That was alright. It was only the beginning, after all. He still needed details: the flourishes of red that would bring his design to completion, the cape that would serve as the dramatic curtain to cloak his form. More than anything, of course, he needed life. He needed movement.
Of course, he didn’t have a head yet, and that didn’t help matters.
The head alone had taken Smithy a day in itself. But when finished, it was truly a masterpiece. The long and deadly point gleamed in the light of the forge, the very essence of both elegance and danger; below it, the “cheekbones” were two sharp and threatening downward curves, masterfully forged in their grace and symmetry. In between them, the eyes: open and blank. No thoughts stirred them just yet; but soon, there would be more than enough to animate them. This one was to be a thinker, after all.
He heated up the bottom tip once again, just enough so that it glowed, but didn’t melt - and using his tongs, pressed the final touch up inside what looked like the creature’s open snout. The red fibers of the mustache fused and glued themselves to the inner metal. There- the upward-pointing curves that reflected the downward ones above them, the spot of color- now the whole piece was perfection of both craftsmanship and design.
...And it made him look mature. Dignified. Adult. With Bowyer and Claymorton running around, they could certainly use a bit more of that around the place.
Smithy held the head at arm’s length, to admire it for a moment- and then approached the body on the slab. He slotted the head expertly into the joint where the spine arched back into what became a plume, clicking and snapping it into its place; it was meant to be removable, after all.
As he stood back again, the smith noticed that the yellow eyes had closed. Smithy smiled- there had been some reaction; good. He had not failed in his designs. Now his creation slept its primordial sleep, and would awaken when he commanded.
In the meantime, he would work on those final touches. He turned to his workbench to retrieve the accessories that had been created and set aside in advance. He slid and buckled the belt around the creature’s lower body- an unnecessary accoutrement, but a pleasing one. Two red “socks”- really, more like braces, around his ankles, attaching just so, to provide extra cushioning from leaps. And then- well, why not? He picked up the large red plume, which had been-
A scraping and rattling caught Smithy by surprise. He turned quickly, and saw that the Spear was moving his right hand. The skeletal steel fingers, as yet ungloved, scratched at the slab on which they rested. A drumming, a grasping- as if eager.
Suddenly the creature’s entire arm jolted, as if electrified- and his eyes flew open. As Smithy reached his side, the spear-being blinked, looking around groggily- and then he pulled himself up, resting on his elbows, his thin but supple spine curving into a more upright position. He blinked again, and turned his head- the movements of his eyes had already grown restless, darting around the room. They lit on Smithy, still holding the plume, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise.
“Well! You’re here early,” said the blacksmith in amusement. “You aren’t finished yet.” Hungry for life, this one.
The creation pushed himself upwards to a full sitting position. He looked down at his fingers, his shoes, his body… and then back at the other figure in the room.
“Who am I?” were his first words.
Smithy took a moment to respond. In his head, he was reacting to the question, comparing it to the others he had received. “What am I?” Boomer had asked. “Where am I?” was Claymorton’s question. “Who are you?!” was the inquiry from Bowyer, with a nya or two thrown in. And now…
“Your name is Speardovich. You are the sharp and shining spear of my army, who strikes with cleverness and cunning. You are a weapon.”
Feeling a bit silly with the plume in his hands, Smithy took hold of the wire that bent out from behind his creation’s head, and affixed the crest to its place. The activity seemed to startle the newborn being, and when it was done, he shook his head back and forth, feeling out his the new balance. He reached backwards with one of his clawlike hands and ran his fingers through the plume, as one might admire their own luxurious hair. He seemed to like it indeed.
“...What is a weapon?” he asked when he was satisfied with this, looking Smithy in the eyes again, curiously.
“Hmm! Good question.” But this would be easy enough, the blacksmith thought- it was long ago now, but he could still recall the essence of what he had told Boomer.
“A weapon is what we make here- what I make here. My name, by the way, is Smithy- your creator.” He turned back to his table, and came back a moment later with a red glove. He lifted the right wrist of his creation - still limp, weak, confused - and gently slid the hand inside. “Some would say a weapon is an implement designed to cause damage,” he said, as he fitted each finger delicately into its place; surprisingly deft with his own massive hand. “To hurt, to maim, to kill. To destroy.”
He stepped away, and came back with the glove’s left-handed counterpart. “Others would say,” he continued, as he again slid each wiry finger into where it belonged, “That a weapon enables self-defense. To defeat so-called evil, to allow people to live safe and free.”
Finished with the gloving, Smithy held his creation’s smaller hand in his own for just a moment- the one, long-fingered and designed for dexterity, atop the other built for strength. “But either way- a weapon is power. The very idea of power, distilled and manifested into an object. And that, my Speardovich, is what you are. Now- move your hands. Tell me, do those gloves fit well?”
The creation raised his hands, gazing at them, and wiggled and stretched his fingers. He did not answer for a moment.
“So?” prompted the smith. “Is something the matter?”
“I… don’t think it’s the gloves,” said the weapon at last, shaking his head. “It's- it's my hands themselves. They feel… incomplete. They…” he made a grabbing, clutching motion with both of them- he suddenly seemed pitiable, like a child needy for a parent, a role in which Smithy was clearly deficient. “I- I’m sorry, My Lord Smithy. I don’t have the words. I don’t understand-”
“Ah,” said Smithy. “I know what you need. Hold tight.”
He turned yet again to retrieve something, and in a moment returned holding a long rod with a shining steel point at one end. Wrapped near the tip was a bold ribbon of red fabric.
“This is yours,” said the smith. “Of course you yearn for it. It’s part of you.” He stretched out his large hands, presenting the object to his creation.
Said creation’s eyes had grown huge. “My spear,” he said, in awe. He did not need to ask what it was. Not this.
He took it, with desperate swiftness- and closed his eyes. He clutched it across his chest, in both his hands, and something spread across his wiry body, releasing tension he did not even know he had. He did not know the word just yet, but later he would look back and realize it was joy.
Suddenly, in an instinctive movement, he took the spear in his right hand and deftly twirled it, over his head, and to the side of the slab on which he had been born and still sat, pointing it downwards. His eyes opened and he sprang up, his young knees bending like a spring, and he stood upright, pointing and thrusting the spear before him in a series of expert stabs. 
Smithy grinned, giddy and foolish with pride at his work. “Yes!!” he cried. “There you are!! You know who you are, after all!!”
“Indeed,” said Speardovich, looking down from his great height at his creator. His voice had lost the slow, innocent wonder of his early questions- it was now rich and resonant with confidence. “I know who I am.”
“Come down here,” ordered Smithy, and the gangly outline of a figure obeyed, jumping nimbly to the floor. The weaponsmith carried over from the work-table the last accessory, the one that had taken up the vast majority of the space. He took the red-flowing cape and draped it over the back of his newest pride and joy. Speardovich bowed his head, resting the bottom of his spear on the ground, as Smithy proceeded with the cape, buckling the horn-shaped epaulets into the sockets he had forged for them.
“Now, my Spear,” said Smithy, “let us waste no time. I have so much more to tell you- of me, and you, and what you shall do for me. And of course, you will meet your colleagues.”
Speardovich raised himself to his full height- he was taller even than his maker- and hesitated. He tried to suppress his surprise and disappointment- colleagues. Just how many of them were there?? Would they compete for the glory their mutual creator had thus far lavished upon him? Or would they show him the respect and deference he so clearly deserved?
Well, there was only one way to find out- and he would maintain that respect with force, if need be.
He was, after all, a weapon.
“Lead the way, my Lord,” he said with a nod. Then he followed the heavy plod of his creator, his cape and his plume flowing behind him, his spear in his hand, his head held high.
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multific · 6 months
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Love In Oil Colours
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Chapter 7: Tormenting Dreams
Astarion x Fem!Reader
Summary: You just wanted to see the paintings. To see what new exhibits there were. You never expected for a simple oil painting to reveal so much about you and your past.
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It felt as if the world was against you.
Wherever you went, whatever you did.
People always found you.
Even when you moved to the most isolated place, someone always found you.
You built this place. Made it a home and yet you were afraid to leave your house.
Because when you did. Someone was there. Watching you with wide eyes as he stood there frozen by the gates to your garden.
"Witch." he whispered and you felt a shiver ran down your spine.
"Get inside." Astarion said as the man began to run.
You turned away as you knew what would happen now, your husband will hunt him, more men would come and you will be forced to move again.
You loved this house. You wanted to stay but you knew you couldn't.
"It is simply torture. Does no place exist where we could live together peacefully?" he asked and you smiled at him.
"Maybe afterlife?" 
"I'm not ready to do that. You are far too young my love. You need to live and explore. See the world."
"I only wish to see you."
"It would be wrong of me to."
"I wish nothing but to be with you. You must know that."
"I do. I refuse to turn you into the monster that I am. And I also refuse for you to die. What would I do without you?"
You ran your hand down his face, offering him a smile as an answer then a kiss. 
"This world is not made for us. But I love you too deeply to lose you, Astarion."
Your selfish love would be the end of you.
But you didn't care.
You were truly going mad.
It got to the point where now even during work you were only researching the painting and the painter. It got to a point where your boss told you that you need to keep your performance up or you will have issues.
But the worst of all, you didn’t care.
This mystery was consuming you alive.
You needed to know more. 
You were slightly convinced your dreams weren’t even dreams. But if they were memories, could they be your ancestor's memories? Or your own?
No. That would be impossible. 
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The above photo is not mine! Credit goes to the owner!
Series Masterlist
Oil Taglist: @b33l1ghtfu11h0n3y @usuallyunlikelyfox @andromeda-gaylaxy @girl-with-an-orange-cat @joyfulfxckery @perseny @a-tong
Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246
~Masterlist~
ˇAO3ˇ
DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  
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magniloquent-raven · 1 year
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i wrote this for me but yall can read it too if u want 💖it's just 2k of piercing kink lmfao
(so. cw needles)
"What's this?" Billy flicks a balled up grocery bag aside, plastic clips and crumpled receipts rustling as he shifts the mess around. He's pretty sure Steve hasn't cleaned this shitty little table out since...ever, probably. If he digs far enough he'll probably find whatever crap the previous renters left behind.
Steve flops on his side, wriggling over a cushion to join him, and propping his chin on the arm of the couch. It doesn't get him far enough to see into the drawer. Billy rolls his eyes and pinches the baggie, lifting it high enough to sarcastically wave it in Steve's face.
Needles glint in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Straight, silver, hollow-point needles, individually wrapped in neat little conjoined packages. There's other shit in the bag too, antiseptic wipes in packets stamped with green lettering, weird looking tongs, latex gloves rolled into a nearly unrecognizable blue mass.
Maybe the better question would've been why does Steve goddamn Harrington have a piercing kit?
Steve blinks at it, recognition dawning at a snail's pace. "Oh, that." He folds his arms under his chin, resting on his forearms. His cheek squishes a little and Billy wants to do something stupid. Like. Grab his face. Or kiss the dumb little wrinkle between his brows. "That's Robin's fault."
"What."
"She wanted her nose pierced. And it's, like. Cheaper to just buy the stuff for it, I guess." He blows a strand of hair out of his eyes, and Billy's fingers twitch. "I told her it was a dumbass idea. But it turns out, not for the reasons I thought. She freaked out when I put the needle through. So. Yeah. It was a whole thing."
"Hm."
Billy eyes the kit. Imagines Buckley flailing and teary with a needle stuck in her face. Expects to be amused by her being a giant baby but instead the thought...changes. Shifts. To Steve and his careful fingers, gently preparing the spot, guiding her head to the right angle...
A surge of jealousy hits him in the chest, and the scene blurs, getting less coherent, until—
Cold needle and warm hands, the sharp rush of it, pain and heat and an indefinable feeling prickling up his spine.
Billy fiddles with the silver hoops in his ear.
There's something simmering in his gut. Nerves, maybe, partly. But it's more than that. Deeper. He bites his lip.
"You should do me too."
Steve sputters, a pink flush blooming on his cheeks.
Billy grins at him, all canine and confidence he doesn't feel. "Piercing, Harrington."
"But—"
"Nah, c'mon, we're doing this." He tosses the baggie at Steve—who fumbles, but catches it—and with his newly freed hands, strips off his shirt. He drops it on the floor, not bothered about where it might land.
Steve is doing his best impression of a fish out of water, shallow, quiet breaths the only sound escaping his gaping mouth. His entire face has gone splotchy. It's kind of adorable.
"I don't have all day," Billy prods. He does, and even if he didn't, he'd make time. But Steve doesn't need to know that. "I'm not gonna freak out, if that makes you feel any better. Cross my heart." He draws an x on his bare chest. Steve's eyes follow the motion, and linger even after he's dropped his hand.
He's been doing that a lot lately. Lingering. Looking. It's...interesting. Exhilarating.
"This is a stupid idea," Steve says faintly.
"When has that ever stopped you?"
That gets a laugh out of Steve, the corner of his eyes crinkled as he scoffs and acts offended. "Whatever, man, just don't blame me if it gets infected."
They're doing this. They're fucking doing this. Billy's stomach swoops like a bird in flight.
This is such a dumb idea.
Billy doesn't care.
He sits on the coffee table, across from Steve, who's still half-lounging on the couch. Their knees brush, and Billy feels it everywhere. He's a live wire, tense and jittery as a current runs through him, tingling in his extremities and coiling in his guts. It takes more than a little effort just to keep still and appear unaffected.
Steve eyes him, his gaze wandering up and down. "So. I'm guessing you don't want it in your nose..."
Billy snickers at that, he can't help it. "Do you say that to all the girls?"
"Good idea, mock the guy who's about to poke holes in you."
"No, no, I'm being serious," Billy dissolves into further giggles, "If you haven't figured out where to stick it yet I'd like to know."
"Har har."
"I could give you some pointers."
"Are you done?" The question is punctuated by the elastic snap of Steve pulling on a latex glove. He's trying to keep his expression neutral, unimpressed and unamused, one eyebrow raised and his lips flat, but there's a hint of mirth glittering in his eye and the corner of his mouth keeps twitching. Overall the way he's watching Billy fall all over himself laughing is too fond, too warm to be convincingly annoyed.
That shuts Billy up faster than genuine annoyance would have. He rubs the back of his neck, like he can wipe away the hot flush with his hands, and he ducks his head to hide a dopey grin.
"Alright." There's a rustling noise as Steve digs through the bag. "Um. I gotta." He waves the wipe he retrieved, vaguely gesturing at Billy's chest with it. The kit is clutched in his other hand, wrinkled between his tense fingers.
"What are you waiting for."
Steve inspects him. Silently. Eyes skimming over his chest again, flicking up to his face nervously. "You're sure about this, right?"
"Yes."
"You're really—"
"Steve. I really want you to do it."
Steve lets out a slow, quiet breath. "Okay." He nods, his expression hardening into something more determined. Something that makes Billy want to kiss his stupid face even more than usual.
It doesn't help that the next thing Steve does is put his hands on Billy's chest. He only needed one. Two fingers separated from Billy's skin by cold, damp antiseptic. Two fingers circling the hard nub of his nipple while his thumb brushes sensitive skin underneath. That would have been overwhelming enough. But Steve shifts closer to him, perched on the edge of the couch, positioning himself between Billy's thighs, and skims his palm up Billy's side, over his ribs, for no goddamn reason.
He's not keeping Billy in place, his touch is too soft for that, he's just...holding him.
Billy's insides are mush. Hot syrupy goop.
And his dick is a hard line in his jeans, straining against his zipper.
He bites his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth to keep quiet. It feels wrong somehow, to look at Steve right now, while he's getting off on something that's...it's not the same for Steve. They're not on the same page, and he knows it. But he can't tear his eyes away. He's so close. And so pretty. Even more so when he's concentrating. Dark eyes focused only on Billy. Lips parted just a little.
"Okay, I gotta use the...this thing. Now." Steve tosses the wipe aside and picks up the clamp, clicking it a couple times and staring at it like it's a note written in a foreign language.
"Mhm." Billy does his best not to squirm.
See, the thing is, Billy's the only person who's ever done anything to his nipples. Like it's never occurred to the people he's slept with that he'd enjoy it. Maybe they just didn't care to ask. And maybe he was too embarrassed to bring it up. Chicks like getting their nipples played with, okay. It's...it's stupid that he can't get himself off without one pinched between his fingers. It's weird that sometimes he neglects his cock because he's got both hands up his shirt.
Turns out being touched by someone else is on a whole different level. Touched without a flimsy barrier between them. Touched firmly, with intention. 
He sways forward, jolting a little when Steve pinches, tugs, sending a bolt of heat right through him. He grips the edge of coffee table hard enough to hear it creak.
The clamp is colder than the wipe. Or maybe he's just warmer now. He can feel his pulse pounding, and he can almost hear the blood rushing south. 
"You're being really quiet," Steve says carefully. The clamp is securely in place, but Steve hasn't taken his hand off Billy's chest yet. His palm is a little sweaty, cupped under Billy's pec, his thumb moving absently in circles that make Billy shiver. 
"Is there something you'd like me to say?" Jesus, he didn't expect to sound so hoarse. 
Steve opens his mouth. Closes it again. "Um." He busies himself with rooting through the kit to fish out a needle. "Nope. Just. Usually I can't get you to shut up, so." 
He doesn't have a witty reply. Or even a fucking stupid one. There's nothing in his head but static and a silver gleam. 
"Last chance to back out."
Billy lets out an annoyed huff. 
"Okay. Well. Here we go." 
Here they go. 
Billy's breath catches when Steve unwraps the needle, his imagination already three steps ahead. The phantom sensation is enough to make his dick throb. 
He's as patient as he can be with Steve's hesitation. His lingering a hair's breadth from Billy with the needle's point. His shaky little breath to steel himself. Billy's about ready to crawl out of his own skin by the time Steve finally thrusts in and pierces him. 
As much as he was waiting and waiting and waiting for it, he wasn't fully expecting it when it happened, and it knocks the air from his lungs. One small point of contact is his whole world for the seconds it takes to pass through, one crystalized moment, sharp and shining. And then the rush. The blanket of warmth that settles over him afterwards. 
He doesn't realize his eyes have fallen shut until he opens them again, blinking until Steve's wide-eyed stare comes into focus. 
"I've got the, uh. Barbell. Gonna put that in now."
It's a tricky part. Billy wonders vaguely if Steve actually knows what he's doing, and he finds he doesn't care. He cares even less when he feels the needle move again, tugging, rubbing against sensitive skin. His gaze drops to the little bit of tongue poking out the corner of Steve's mouth, and everything else seems a little blurry. He shifts his hips, just a little, he can't help it. It's not a conscious thought, it's just friction; Steve's clever fingers and the warm scent of honey shampoo are making him dizzy. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip, letting himself sink a little deeper into the haze of sensations. 
"There! Done," Steve says it, but he doesn't pull away. "Did you want the other one—"
"Yes."
Steve blinks at him. "You seem kinda…" His gaze wanders. Downward. A little more. And then his eyes widen. "Oh."
He doesn't sound as freaked out as Billy might've expected. He mostly sounds…curious. Which. Is very interesting. 
"Well. I guess I'll do you again then."
Holy shit. 
Okay.
It's different the second time. Steve's different. He teases, wiping Billy clean for much longer than he needs to, circling and circling 'til Billy's squirming, aching, wanting more but unwilling to beg. Every time he shifts his hips a shudder jitters up his spine. His briefs are wet and sticking to the tip of his dick, still uncomfortably trapped by denim.
It's also harder to keep track of Steve's individual movements. Getting the clamp, unwrapping the needle, putting the bag down, throwing the ripped packaging aside. The first time he was hyperaware of everything, anticipation clawing at his patience. Now, he's sinking into a warm bath, he's floating on a cloud, he's loose-limbed and more focused on the hot flush on his chest and the darkness of Steve's blown pupils than anything else.
There's just…moments. The surprised part of Steve's lips when Billy accidentally lets a whimper slip. The needle point piercing his skin. The sudden wave of heat that slams him in the gut when Steve brushes his knuckle over Billy's swollen nipple, the way his vision whites out and he trembles and he fucking cums in his jeans, while sitting on Steve's goddamn coffee table.
He's not sure when exactly Steve finished up, but suddenly he's all too aware that his chest hurts and his underwear is sticky and Steve is looking uncertain again, despite his hand resting on Billy's thigh.
"So…that was…" Steve flounders. Pauses. Opens his mouth to keep floundering.
Billy kisses him. It's one little peck on the mouth. Just one. It's two seconds of contact, and Billy's heart is only racing because he just had an orgasm, okay.
"Thanks," he says, his voice embarrassingly soft. Like that's gonna make everything less weird. 
But Steve smiles at him. Cracks a grin, and then snickers. Because, yeah, sure, it's weird, it was all weird, but…maybe that's fine.
tag list @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you 💕
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tetsunabouquet · 15 days
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Hi! Could you do a nsfw scenario for Nash and Hanamiya in which they're bullying the girl that they like?
(18+ And with the slight increase of young, new KNB fans: If I catch you making NSFW requests to me I will be deleting the asks. A firm reminder to everyone that I don't write that kind of stuff for minors. I'm not named Colleen nor do I have a ukelele.)
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Hanamiya
He grinned widely as he caught you doing something you shouldn't be doing. Now as a member of the Disciplinary Comittee, he couldn't just ignore you stealing a can of Coke from the vending machine. Even if you had forgotten your lunch money and looked like you were about to faint. If aything, he could use that to his advantage. "Now, now, y/n-san, aren't you a bad girl?" You froze at his voice and desperately started to shake your head. "Please Hanamiya-san. Forget you saw me." Hanamiya chuckled darkly, you just had to offer yourself on a plate, didn't you? "I could do that but honestly, I don't want to have this school turn into a breeding ground of disobedient little bitches." You flushed as those words sent a strange tingle down your spine. "I'm not a disobedient little bitch." You uttered the words with a shame you didn't quite understand. Hanamiya laughed as a reponse, and the poisonous edge to it brought tears to your eyes. "Oh really? I think a thief would qualify for being a disobedient little bitch. You're worse then that actually. You should be happy I gave you that compliment." Your lips were wobbling at the insults, and a tear rolled down your cheek. "I'm sorry." You apologized as you trembled and it was honestly making Hanamiya rather hard. "You know, I could see past this if you could be so good to help me with something." Your eyed widened and you nodded. "Of course. You know I didn't mean to do something bad." You said before you once more looked at your shoes at the sight of his intense gaze. Hanamiya's lips curled, and he unbuckled his belt as you gulped. "Be sweet and put that mouth of yours to use already." You fell on your knees, because it's not like you had any other choice and so you licked at his throbbing cock like the good girl you promised you were. You couldn't tell wether it was his cum or your tears that left such a salty taste but you swallowed it all up just the same.
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Nash
College life was far less interesting as people had made it seem, so he tried finding some new hobbies outside of sports. Which is how he met you. The students who were following art or music programs would typically gather in one corner of the campus when they had no classes and they would all make art with everyone uplifting each other. The photography and film students would film the musicians for their YouTube pages and make photos of the paintings made under the bright L.A sky. They would allow people curious to sit with them and there always seemed to be someone willing to teach someone a few basic skills if they seemed interested. As a photography student, you always were springing about taking pictures of everything but honestly, Nash just wanted you to snap a picture of his dick and burn in into your memory and memory card alike. Which is why, when he got to corner you all alone, he took your camera away from you. "Hey, give that back!" "What? You think you look threatening to me shortie? I would tell you that you look like you punch as a girl, but you are one already." Your jaw dropped open as you saw him going through your photos. "Are you really studying photography? These look like dogshit," Nash commented and you felt rightfully defensive at the way he sneered at your pictures. "I am! You don't need to be such an asshole because it's not up to your taste." You scoffed. "First of all, don't you think you should be talking less shit when I have your camera? Secondly, I would like to know what you think qualifies as taste and how do you even know mine?" This man left you speechless and you tried to grasp at things to say but the words died on your tongue, tears slowly forming. "You know what, I'll give it back to you. But I do require a picture from you, and one of better quality then this garbage you snap." Your eyes immediately narrowed, sensing the direction of this conversation. "I am not allowing you to snap a nude of me." Nash once more curled his lip into a sneer as he said, "I'm not going to be the one taking any picture of you. Why would I want your ugly face and sullen expression? Didn't you teach me that it's better to capture something in the heat of the moment?" You did tell him something along those lines in an earlier conversation and he once more managed to silence you with the way he was analyzing your every move. You honestly were shaking from anxiety as his imposing figure loomed before you. "So how about you take a selfie when you're riding my dick." His free hand grabbed your ass and as your lashes fluttered from confusion and fear he planted the most sensual kiss on your lips, his tongue licking and teasing at your bottom lip in a way that made you lean forwards and press your body against his. There was no way of denying Nash what he wanted, and finally he would have you and that dirty picture.
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