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mypoisonedvine · 4 months

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𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮 | laszlo kreizler x reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 | being a traditional, well-behaved woman, you saved yourself for marriage. but the things your new husband has planned for you are... less than traditional, and might just show how poorly behaved you can be.

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 | over 9k

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 | SMUT (18+ only!!), virginity loss, age gap (unspecific; laszlo is in his 40s, reader is probably 20-25), multiple orgasms/overstimulation, fingering, oral f receiving, squirting, shy/innocent reader, religious reader (but nothing tooo shame-y or anything), some innocence kink, a hint of medical kink?, slightly pervy laszlo?!?! (moreso he's just a wee bit of a weirdo and says some cringe stuff but like. that's just his vibe sorry)

Laszlo was such an impossible paradox of a man. Especially compared to the sort of man you always thought you’d marry— what you’d been raised for, even.

An accomplished doctor, a successful and wealthy man of high social standing— a kind, sensitive, intelligent, and patient partner who made you feel beautiful and special and, for lack of a better word, fancy. That part was exactly as you’d always imagined for yourself, though you had never really believed you could find someone so wonderful.

And then there was the other half of him, the pieces that even in your wildest dreams you would’ve never thought would make up your future husband. First of all, he was quite a bit older than you. Even your parents, who had always preferred for you to marry someone already established (as they put it) rather than your own age, were a little concerned that he was in his mid-forties, and only a year younger than your father. Of course, that was nothing compared to their offense at his profession, and the subsequent open-mindedness he had towards people your parents would rather pretend didn’t exist. Then again, Laszlo himself having his disability made him the sort of person they would rather pretend didn’t exist, though he’d managed to hide it relatively well.

Maybe they could’ve forgiven any of that. It was the atheism that put the final nail in the coffin, unfortunately… and someone as brash and unapologetic as Laszlo had no interest in hiding his beliefs to appease your parents. He hadn’t brought it up, of course, or protested to the crucifixes and cross-stitched scriptures on the walls; but when they’d asked if he was Catholic or Protestant, he told them directly that he was a man of science and didn’t entertain any metaphysical notions or, as he’d so thoughtfully put it, fantasies.

They instantly forbade the courtship and warned you never to see him again. And maybe that was when he surprised you most— he was so romantic, so… dashing. He took a carriage to your home and literally threw pebbles at your window, daring you to climb down the lattice and join him for a midnight adventure. It was then he suggested that you marry him anyways— he had more than enough to take care of you after a disownment from your parents. He promised to give you anything you wanted, to treat you perfectly, to spend every day trying to keep you as happy as you made him without even trying.

There it was again, the contradictory enigma of Laszlo Kreizler. A serious, even stern man, proposing to you like a lovestruck teenager. He had eschewed fantasies a few evenings ago only to turn around and ask you to jump headfirst into a fairytale.

You said yes, though. You really didn’t think twice about it— you knew he would be good to you. And you knew you’d never loved someone like you’d loved him before.

You wanted to run away right then and there, but he told you to go home for a few more days, to gather your things— he would send for them while your parents were out, and you could move in with him as soon as you were ready.

When you did move in, though, he seemed a little surprised that you asked for your things to be moved to a spare bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you softly, stepping closer to you as you crossed your arms over yourself nervously; you waited until you were sure Cyrus was out of earshot, carrying your bags away, before you answered.

“Yes,” you replied quietly, “everything’s fine.”

“It’s understandable if you’re feeling conflicted now,” Laszlo assured. “Having just left your parents, and not knowing if you’ll see them again—”

“It’s not that,” you promised. “Well— of course, I feel something about that, but I’m happy to be here with you. That’s not my issue at all.”

“Then what is?” he pressed. “I hope you feel that you can tell me.”

You sighed as he reached up to brush your cheek; his touch always soothed you, though it felt a bit different here, in his home. Your new home. “I just… wouldn’t feel right about being in your room, until we’re married.”

He nodded. “Of course. I shouldn’t have presumed.”

You smiled a little, though it was more out of nervousness than anything. “I… I wondered if you thought my parents were the only reason that we never— that nothing had—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pushing your hair back from your face until you looked up at him. “I don’t expect anything from you now. Well, only that you do whatever you like to make yourself feel at home here.”

“And what… what will you expect from me once I am your wife, Dr. Kreizler?”

Though you were a little afraid to, you met his gaze; his brown eyes seemed deeper than ever, and you were powerless to look away from them. “What do you think is right to give me, when you are my wife?”

You sighed a little, feeling his hand on your cheek move carefully down to your neck, his gentle fingers brushing along the smallest part of your collarbone exposed by your dress. Words escaped you; you wanted him to know that just because you wanted to wait for him didn’t mean you didn’t want him. Even before, even when you first met him, your mind had supplied you with thoughts that sent you straight to the confession booth.

You wanted to be one with him in every way you could think of… you just needed some to come before others, to feel right with your own beliefs. Even if you loved an atheist, and felt surprisingly little guilt for it, you were still religious yourself and wanted to honor God’s intention for marriage.

Didn’t mean you couldn’t yearn for your soon-to-be husband, right? It certainly didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the full benefits of physical intimacy when the time came.

But obviously, you were far from brave enough to say all that. Instead, you found your hands wandering to his chest, following the pattern of his suit coat up to his shoulders, biting your lip without even realizing it. He simply continued to watch you, and you got the feeling that he understood you better than you could explain it yourself. One of the bonuses of being loved by an expert on the human mind, perhaps.

You were almost in a trance, not noticing how long you were spending just gently touching and holding him in this simple way— until you looked up and met his gaze again, and felt a little weak. “Can we marry soon?” you asked softly, almost under your breath. You hoped he wouldn’t tease you, you weren’t secure enough for him to mock your obvious eagerness, to call attention to your desire for him. Thankfully, he stayed perfectly serious, because he was just as affected as you were.

“As soon as you like,” he replied earnestly.

It was probably for the best that Cyrus walked in to the parlor at that moment, and you instinctively pulled back from Laszlo, crossing your arms again. “Your bags are in the downstairs bedroom, madam,” he informed you, “down the hallway under the stairs.”

You nodded at him as Laszlo responded, “Thank you, Cyrus. That will be all.”

He left, and you looked at your fiance again, feeling a bit silly for what he’d seen in you a moment before. But he smiled at you, and you figured he’d be the last person to judge you for any of that. “I’ll give you a little time to unpack and freshen up, if you like,” he offered. “I hope you’ll join me for dinner at seven this evening. I believe we’ll be having quail.”

“Of course— thank you,” you smiled, watching him begin to turn to depart. But for a second, he hesitated— like he didn’t want to leave you— and you prayed he wouldn’t kiss you. It’s not that you didn’t want him to… you wanted him to more than anything. He’d only kissed you once before, at the end of a particularly exhilarating night out together, and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it for a moment since.

So no, it wasn’t that you didn’t want him to kiss you. It was only that, if he did, you knew you’d have trouble letting it be just a kiss.

Therefore, you were just as relieved as you were disappointed when he departed without incident.

///

A few days later, you eloped. You hadn’t felt much urge to have a ‘proper’ wedding when no one you knew approved of the marriage anyway— they were all too deep in your parents’ pocket, unfortunately. And even if anyone cared enough to come, Laszlo refused to be wed in a church (you thought maybe he would bend on it if you really begged, he was overall quite accommodating to you, but it wasn’t worth your trouble) and so it would’ve just been another scandal.

Truly, you were just as happy this way— it was the happiest day of your life, really. You left the courthouse as Mrs. Kreizler, wearing a stunning silver band he’d had engraved with your new initials and flowering vines all around in a swirling, whimsical pattern. His band was simpler, but you loved it even more— just because it was his, and seeing him wearing it made your heart skip all day.

Anticipation for your wedding night only grew with every passing moment. Laszlo himself was in the bathroom with the door shut— you heard the sink running, the various sounds of him preparing for bed. You were just trying to get your heart to slow down, trying not to have any specific goals or expectations for the evening. Today had already been perfect.

But, of course, it was hard not to imagine what was next for the two of you— your things had already been moved into his room. A vanity had been placed in it as well, a wedding gift from Sara Howard (a friend of Laszlo’s you had become acquainted with during this whirlwind romance), and you were using it now as you prepared yourself for bed. You were already in your nightgown, having changed after Laszlo left the room (not that you had to, but it felt more natural that way), and you were carefully unpinning your hair from its meticulous style.

As you concluded the final steps of your evening routine, you saw the bathroom door open behind you in your reflection; your husband emerged, wearing an embroidered silk robe that offered a view of a sliver of his chest— not very much, but more than you’d ever seen. You didn’t notice the way your thighs pressed against each other more tightly; he approached you slowly, and you eventually turned to look at him directly. With you still sitting on the vanity’s padded stool, he towered over you when he stood close… and as you lifted your head to look up at him, his hand brushed softly along your jaw. You tilted into his touch just a bit, smiling at him while your heart fluttered.

“You’re so beautiful, mein Schatz,” he whispered, and you felt a little giddy when he talked like that— he’d only ever indulged you in his German after having a few drinks, so this instance caught you off-guard in the best way. Not to mention he’d called you Schatz before— treasure, apparently, and a common term of endearment— but he’d never tagged it with mein before. And you were his, truly. You were glad he’d waited to say it until it was actually true (even if, in a certain sense, it was already true before).

He motioned, rather subtly, for you to stand up. It seemed simple enough, but you felt a little shaky as you did it— a nervous excitement, like the kind you would feel before a piano recital or debutante ball. Except those were all public engagements, and this was as private as anything could be.

Touching your face again, he wove his fingers back around your neck, his thumb cradling your jaw right in front of your ear. And he kissed you— just like that, quick at first but then slowing down as you both sighed a bit.

You admired how easily he’d done it, and thank god for it, because you would’ve spent quite a while working up the courage. This was different from the night you’d kissed him after a few weeks of seeing each other— it was very different from the kiss you’d shared at the courthouse earlier that day. It would’ve made sense if there was a sense of neediness to it, as if he were making up for lost time or relieving all the anticipation for this night. But really, it was all rather relaxed, at least on his part. Like he had all the time in the world: which, you know, he did.

You, on the other hand… you were feeling a bit more out of your element. Not that you weren’t enjoying this new one so far, it was just a little unfamiliar.

His hand floated lower and traced down your back— delicately, with the tips of his fingers brushing your skin through the thin fabric until chills started to run over you. You gasped a little into the kiss, and put your hands on the patterned lapels of his robe; you didn’t actually push him away, but he pulled back as if you had, examining your face carefully for a moment.

You hadn’t needed him to stop, but you were a little glad he did: just a moment’s break from it all before it became overwhelming. His fingers still traced gentle shapes on your lower back through the nightgown, and you found your gaze drifting to his chest, to your hands resting on it— and your own fingertips ventured into the exposed piece of his chest. His skin was paler here, with a reddish-blondish patch of hair just starting to be visible. You touched it, taking a quick and shaky breath, and wondered why something inside you tightened as you pet him here. He was so… masculine. His looks weren’t sweet and boyish, no: he was broad and strong (he would deny that one if you said it, but to you he was) and sharp around the edges, and it was something you never expected to excite you so much.

But you loved that you could still feel a bit of friction from his beard after he’d kissed you. You loved the subtle scent of his cologne, how sturdy he felt under your touch.

Your hands drifted up to his face, fingers brushing through his hair slowly, and he smiled at you. His hair was just a bit long for what was typical of men these days, and you enjoyed combing through the dark brown locks and noticing the little golden highlights in the dimmed light of the room.

The hand on your hip pulled you closer, pressing your body against his, and you tried your best to relax into the warm strength of his form while your heart kept racing.

When he kissed you again, he moved in slowly, watching your face before his own eventually met with it, and you fluttered your eyes shut as his lips gently pressed to yours. This time, you found yourself leaning in for more, kissing him back with more passion; you let out a little dampened moan when his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, taking the next opportunity to gently move further into your mouth.

He broke away all too soon, embracing you even tighter, pressing his cheek to yours. And when you, in turn, wrapped your arms around him and pressed yourself against him everywhere you could… you felt it.

Even if you had very little knowledge about this sort of thing, you understood what that hard, curved shape was, pressed just above where your hip met your stomach. You knew what it was, and your body did too— heat pooled at your core, every touch awakening you even more.

“Oh,” you sighed shakily, holding tighter onto him to just have something to hold onto.

“It's alright,” he whispered, soft words floating on his breath which tickled under your ear. “It's alright, my darling, I won't hurt you.”

You hummed softly in return, nodding as his lips brushed over your cheek, then moved to your neck. “I know,” you replied. “I trust you, Laszlo.”

But you couldn't help but gasp when his tongue teased your pulse, his teeth gently grazing the most delicate places they could find. His grip at your waist tightened when you whimpered. “Is this pleasurable to you?” he asked softly; even such a formal statement made you shudder when he said it in that low, buttery voice…

You nodded, your back arching slightly to press yourself against him, but you felt him smile against you suddenly.

“I'd like for you to say it,” he explained, an unfamiliar darkness to his voice.

“It's… pleasurable,” you panted. “When you kiss me there… it's like I feel every touch s-somewhere else—”

“Where, my love?”

“Here,” you sighed, grabbing his hand from your back and moving it between your legs. He instantly cupped and rubbed your mound, and your knees nearly buckled from the pleasure.

“Mein Gott, you're so sensitive,” he observed, his own voice sounding a little strained, “I've hardly touched you.”

“L-Laszlo, just touch me more,” you pleaded.

Though he’d been so careful until that moment, he suddenly started to pull up the skirt of your nightgown rather hastily, nostrils flaring as he bent down slightly and worked to hoist the fabric up. Finally, he got under it, but teased you by rubbing and groping at your thighs instead; under his breath, you just barely heard a growl before he began to kiss your neck again.

“Even if both my hands were strong, I'd wish for more to touch you with,” he mumbled against your skin. “I'd still want to cover you entirely, reach every part of you at once.”

Well, you liked the sound of that, but one hand was doing you plenty of good already— especially when it slid back up to cup you again, making you sigh and moan as his fingers slipped through your folds, spreading your abundant wetness all around.

Desperate to return even a portion of the sensation he was giving to you, you placed your hand against the bulge in his trousers. Though the shape and firmness of him made you gasp excitedly, he only let you rub it for a few moments before sighing and moving your hand away. “Not yet, my darling,” he instructed. “It's best if we take this one step at a time, for now.”

You felt a little silly, having to be held back like that, but you nodded. He obviously knew better than you about all this.

It was almost too much, the way he was touching you: you had your arms wrapped tight around his shoulders to try to keep yourself upright, frankly. And yet, for how overwhelming it was, you heard yourself saying—

“More, please,” you begged, “I-I need you, just give me more, please—”

“I will,” he promised roughly, “but not here. I think it’s only right that I take you to bed, hm?”

If you weren’t all worked up, you might’ve made some witty comment about how at least the bed’s not too far or whatever— but no, you just let him guide you the few steps to the mattress, and you sat on it as you simply awaited further orders. So little that he’d done to you, and you’d already do whatever he asked in exchange for continued attention.

You watched him roll up his sleeve— it took him a little while with the weaker hand, but you didn’t mind letting this moment last— and didn’t even notice the way your mouth had gone slack, you were nearly salivating. “Lay back, darling,” he instructed simply, still looking at his sleeve as he finally folded it up to his elbow, “and open your legs.”

You obeyed, of course, and bit absent-mindedly on your lip as you slowly lifted your knees and parted your thighs. There was no point being shy now, of course— and you were more than eager for him to get back to doing what he had been before— but you still felt a nervous hesitance that made your hands (and heart) shake slightly. Something about stopping to get in the bed had brought a bit of sobriety to the moment, and you realized in retrospect how desperate you must have looked. Surely he wouldn’t hold that against you…

He lifted your skirt again, up to your hips, and hummed lowly at the sight of your sex. Your face burned hotter; you liked the way he touched it, but you didn’t feel entirely comfortable with him… staring at it.

Still, it was the sort of slight discomfort that felt oddly… good? Yes, you were a bit embarrassed and exposed at the moment, but it felt wrong in that fun, naughty sort of way; it made your hips shift a little, presumably in hopes of some friction. Thankfully, their wish was answered: his hand was on you again, pulling your lips apart, slowly exploring you until your eyes fluttered shut.

“May I touch you inside as well?” he asked— as if there was any risk of you turning that offer down.

“Y-yes, Laszlo, please,” you whispered, whimpering as you felt the tip of his pointer finger— suddenly it seemed a little thicker than you remembered— press up to your entrance and ever so gently slide inside.

“Just one to start,” he narrated softly as that one finger made your toes curl, only one finger making your hips twist and your back arch. How could he do that to you so easily? “And my thumb can help with this lovely little organ you have…”

His thumb circled your bud, and you shuddered all over— even inside— and instantly struggled to catch your breath. “Laszlo, what… what is that…” you breathed, whimpering when he rubbed it again.

“Your clitoris, my love— you’ve never touched here before?”

He should’ve known you hadn’t— even if you had… explored yourself out of childish curiosity probably a decade ago, you would’ve remembered if it felt like this. Shaking your head, you were surprised by his little growl.

“Your poor girl,” he cooed, something a little attractive about the slight condescension of it. “You have so much to learn. I can’t even imagine the things you’ve never felt before…”

He slowly moved the pad of his thumb up and down over the flesh, which only grew firmer as he continued. “Oh!” you whimpered, hips rocking back against his touch— it was so wild of you, you thought, but you couldn’t really stop yourself. He pressed harder and your whole body jumped. “Fuck!”

He laughed a little, and your face got warmer. “I’ve never heard you use language like that, Schatz, but it sounds impossibly adorable when you say it.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you began, “I couldn’t help it—”

“No, don’t apologize,” he insisted, “I’d rather you said it again. Whenever you can’t help it, of course.”

You knew that Laszlo knew more than you about many topics, being a highly-educated man of great intellect, but you hadn’t expected him to introduce you to an entirely new body part that you’d been carrying with you this whole time. If you’d figured out how to do anything like this to yourself, you might have spent your entire adolescence trapped in your room, so maybe it was for the best that you never put it together.

You weren't sure how any woman was meant to learn these things— you figured she wasn't meant to, unfortunately— but if she had a choice, you'd certainly recommend this method, provided she could find her own husband to try it with rather than borrowing yours. What a visceral and beautiful way to learn how much that little organ could really do: Laszlo rubbing it with his thumb, with just the right amount of pressure to make a loud moan crawl out of you.

“The noises you make are just delightful, my darling,” he praised. “Keep going, so I know what I should do.”

“Just do that,” you begged, “just keep doing that.”

“Only this?” he pressed. “I shouldn't even add another finger?”

Of course, that was when he did— gently pressing his middle finger to your opening until it accommodated it, and you heard your own high-pitched whine in disbelief that you'd made the sound. “F-fuck, that feels… Laszlo, you're so—”

But you interrupted yourself, because he did something so diabolical with his fingers just then. He'd only twisted and scissored them inside you for a moment before curling them up, rubbing the most delicate place you never knew you had— just as he pushed down harder on your poor clit. You felt ravenous all of a sudden, terribly overwhelmed but greedy for more.

“Please, oh god, please—” you started to beg before you even knew what you wanted. He knew what you wanted, and he gave it to you: more. It wasn't even very significant of a movement, and yet it turned your whole body into his plaything as you started to shake all over.

“You react more than I ever expected, my darling,” he cooed. “I never dreamed how well you would respond to my touch. I've only just begun and I think you're already nearly there.”

Before you could wonder where he was talking about, he pulled his fingers out of you carefully. You heard yourself whimper a little, opening your eyes and looking at him worriedly. He smiled, seeming to enjoy how much his interruption seemed to bother you; “Take off your nightgown, my love,” he requested plainly. “I think I’d like to get a good look at you before I go on.”

Sitting up (and finding your head a bit more dizzy than you expected), you started by unbuttoning from your neck halfway down to your chest, before lifting the thin garment up over your head slowly. You felt so strange doing this— undressing in front of a man— but your heart pounded with hope that he would enjoy what he saw. Tossing the dress aside, you sheepishly bit your lip and waited for his assessment as his dark brown eyes grazed over your nude form.

He moved a little closer, his hand running up your leg and then around your side, reaching up to carefully cup one of your breasts. You breathed deeply but unevenly, your chest rising and falling against his touch. You were almost nervous that he hadn’t said anything yet, but the look in his eyes just became more and more clear; you whimpered under your breath when his fingers brushed over your hardened nipple, ever-so-delicately pinching it until your hips shifted a bit in response. “How beautiful you are, my love,” he whispered, making you squirm again with just his words. “Is it true you’re really my wife? This lovely, delicate body that only I can touch and caress, laying next to me every night… I don’t know when I’ll really believe it.”

You had to shut your eyes for a second— you might be too brash if he kept on like that, praising you so tenderly. “You could’ve been a poet,” you told him with a little smirk, blinking open your eyes again as he guided you to lay back once more, “if medicine didn’t suit you.”

“Oh, I’m no poet, Schatz,” he smiled in return, taking one more careful squeeze of your other breast before moving down to pet inside your legs again. “All I am is painfully honest.”

His fingers slid inside you again, and you could’ve sworn he was rubbing inside you a bit more firmly than he had been before— thrusting a little faster, pushing a little deeper. And all the while he was staring down at you, back and forth between your face and your hole, with a delicious darkness in his eyes.

It was still a patient endeavor, so much so that you never really noticed that he was getting a little quicker and rougher with it. You really didn’t figure it out until you heard yourself choking out his name, groaning and gasping louder than you meant to— but you couldn’t suppress it very well, either.

You soon began to realize what he meant before with that nearly there comment, without even having any prior knowledge of what it could be… there was something instinctive about it, something totally natural. You didn’t know what was coming, but you understood it; you knew you were on the edge of something and that if you could just get there it would be perfect.

Still, you couldn’t have known how much you would enjoy it.

You couldn’t stop moaning— it was this all-surrounding, ecstatic feeling, like… sinking into something. Relaxing into something… something warm and soft and good. Even a lifetime of religious repression couldn’t convince you this was anything but perfect. Actually, nothing had ever felt right quite the way this did.

Your back arched rather dramatically, until you had a good view of the headboard upside-down; and he gave you few more fast, rough pumps of his fingers into your shaking body before slowing down to a stop and letting you rest.

Suddenly drained, you melted back down onto the bed with a long whine. “How did that feel?” he asked, sounding a little formal about it, and you only could muster a little, exhausted laugh because what did he think you were going to say? ‘It was alright, tickled a little bit, but I didn’t mind it.’

“That was… you… you’re so—” you began a few times, giving up to open your eyes wide when his fingers pet up and down over the seam of your lips, gently exploring you, making you quiver from how sensitive you’d become. You weren’t even done recovering from the stimulation and he was giving you more; he seemed sort of absent-minded about it, the way he gently and repetitively slid up and down and up and down through your slick and swollen folds… but it was deliberate, you knew it was, because he smiled when you moaned weakly.

One finger pressed inside you again, and he watched your face closely and you shuddered. You were just the slightest bit sore, and it felt like that one finger was more of a stretch than before… which seemed impossible, but with the erratic pulsing of your walls, it was a little hard to keep track.

You gasped sharply when he put the second finger in you once more, almost snarling a bit as he watched you react so strongly. “Laszlo, I— I don't think I can do that again—”

“You can, I'm sure of it,” he encouraged, curling his fingers inside of you, which required a bit more force with your channel bearing down against him in response. “It might even come faster this time, that little spot is all swollen now—”

Before he could finish that sentence, he proved it by circling the place, making your hips jump up as another whine eked out of you. “O-oh, I— fuck…”

He smirked a bit, a delicious smugness to his expression, and the emotion looked much too good on him. “See? Just let me take control, my love. I think you'll like what I do, if you simply let me do what I like with you.”

Fuck, that had to be the most beautiful thing you'd ever heard. You were biting your lip to try to keep back the flood of terribly embarrassing things your pleasure wanted to say for you: you can do whatever you like with me; I'm yours; I'd do anything for you; don't ever stop, but also if you don't fuck me soon I might lose my mind, you know, things of that nature. Instead you let out a muffled moan, and nodded to make sure he knew that he had your permission for whatever he thought was best.

And, of course, he’d been right about you: that you’d be even more sensitive after coming, and would be able to go through it all over again. It only took probably a minute or two of dedicated, precise stimulation for the feeling to grow again… except it felt a little stronger this time, like it was building past the point that it had broken at before. Maybe your tolerance was higher, or something? You really weren’t qualified to say— all you could think about was this sensation, this tension, and the way he looked at you as you started to shake all over.

Your eyes fell shut instinctively, your shaking hands clutching at the bed under you; you felt sort of numb all over, except instead of everything being dulled and distant, it was only heightened.

“O-oh, oh, Laszlo, I—” you tried to warn him, words escaping you as the heavy, almost sharp feeling gathered tighter and tighter…

“Give into it,” he insisted, “it’s alright— I want to see it. I want to hear you, I want to feel you when you come—”

His voice was getting darker, rougher, more demanding as he went on; and in the same way, his fingers’ thrusts into you became more aggressive. “Fuck, I— I think I’ll— oh god!” you yelped.

“Yes,” he encouraged, “let go, darling!”

Your arms flailed around for a second before finding a lump in the sheets to grab onto tightly, your hips rocking against his hand, your head falling back in a scream; it was so intense, and so sudden, and you felt like the pressure that had been building broke so violently that it would’ve been painful without all the ecstasy running through your veins, numbing you inside and out.

You could tell that this one was different— hotter, warmer, wetter— but you had no idea what you’d done until the high had started to fade just a bit.

His hand slowed down to a stop, you heard him quietly catching his breath, and you blinked your eyes open… that’s when you noticed small wet stains on his rolled-up sleeve, and shiny fluid along his forearm— and a very proud grin on his face.

You felt your eyes go wide and your cheeks start baking. He spoke up before you could even try to process what to say: “That was excellent, my love— I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so magnificent,” he praised. “You’re incredible.”

You wanted to believe him, but it didn’t really offer much explanation. “Laszlo, I… did I—?”

“No, darling, don’t worry,” he cooed, scooting a little closer on the bed as he pet the inside of your thigh. “It’s natural— one of the… rarer ways that a woman’s body can respond to stimulation. I’ve always found the concept fascinating, but until now, my knowledge was… purely theoretical. Actually, I’d love to gather your perspective on the experience, possibly for a future research paper on the topic— but that’s an issue for another time. There’s a more pressing matter I need to discuss with you.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious what matter could be discussed in a time like this.

“I… I'd like to try something else,” he announced, and you dropped your head back on the bed in a sort of defeat.

“Something else?!” you whimpered, still catching your breath from the last thing he had “tried”. “What else could there be but making love?”

“That will be soon, I promise, I just… I can't resist such an opportunity,” he explained. “Your scent is so erotic, and it's only grown stronger now that you’ve so generously covered my arm in your ecstasy. And with anything that smells so delectable, one can't help but crave to taste it.”

You'd only heard about this before— sort of a dirty schoolyard secret, almost an urban legend. The whole thing had always sounded odd to you, if maybe not as icky as you thought it was when you first had the concept whispered to you as a child. You didn't realize it was actually something you might experience someday, assuming it was a practice reserved to the especially perverted. Now that he was offering it, you found yourself biting your lip as you tried to imagine what it would be like.

“I'd like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he concluded, really spelling it out for you. “Would that be alright?”

You weren't sure what to think of that, and yet you were already nodding yes. This was your husband, after all— who else could you trust to do something like this? Most of all, you did it because you wanted to please him. Because he'd asked you for it.

He smiled a little when you agreed, and began to lean down between your legs. Those deep brown eyes seemed to sparkle more than ever when he looked up at you, but his gaze couldn't stay with yours for long before he had to give a closer look to your cunt. He carefully spread the lips with his fingers, humming at the sight. “I wonder if it's even possible for you to be as delicious as you look,” he spoke quietly, and a needy whine caught in your throat.

It was just a gentle kiss to your clit first… then another, with his lips parted. Then he started to ever-so-gently suckle at it, tongue softly petting it; he wasn't doing too much, physically, but you never could catch your breath while he was doing it.

You whined a bit when he broke away, looking down at him in search of an explanation but finding instead him looking back up at you with an indescribable look in his eye.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice rougher and darker than you'd ever heard it before, making you shiver gleefully.

“Wet,” you blurted out, making him smile a little, a small laugh on an exhale through his nose that made you feel a bit foolish in an unexpectedly pleasurable way. “A-and warm… please don't stop, Laszlo, it felt so nice…”

He got back to it, a little more intensely than before, and your eyes rolled back when he really started to lap at you with his tongue— harder and wider each time, making you writhe from the intensity of it.

You couldn't even describe the sound you made when he pushed his tongue inside you. He moaned against you in response to it, though, and thank God, he kept going.

He kept petting your thighs, even encouraging you when your legs clamped down around his head unintentionally; presumably that was his way of saying it wasn’t giving him any pain, which you were a bit concerned about, even if you couldn’t really stop yourself. Sometimes you had the strength to meet his gaze, but most of the time you felt like you’d melt if you looked back at him— the way he was staring up at you was just too fiery, too intense, too beautiful.

Just when you thought you were getting used to the pattern of his tongue’s movements on your clit, he gently pushed his two fingers back into your pulsing channel. You were all tingly and sore inside, but a long, deep moan fell from your mouth as your back arched.

“Beautiful,” he praised, the word muffled by what he was doing— which he got back to more urgently than ever, twisting and thrusting his fingers inside you carefully at first.

“J-just like that,” you pleaded. “Oh, Laszlo, I— I didn't know anything could… feel like this…”

You could feel the smallest smirk on his lips as he continued; even just being able to feel his smug smile there was such a lovely, erotic, totally novel concept to you.

When he really buried his face in your legs, you could feel the roughness of his beard against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and buttocks, and god was it the most beautifully filthy feeling. It was really an excellent metaphor for the whole thing: the symbol of his maturity, the well-kempt facial hair itself a balance between his wildness and his meticulous self-control, rubbing raw your delicate and untouched skin in such an intimate place. If you weren’t too busy shaking and crying and seeing stars on this bed, you might have appreciated the beauty in those parallels, but clearly you weren’t capable of thinking about it to that level of depth.

The stream of helpless praises you'd been trying to hold back earlier? There was absolutely nothing stopping it from spilling forward now. “You're incredible,” you blurted out, your hand holding tighter to the sheets beneath you. “Laszlo— my husband— you… you must be the devil, o-or an angel or prophet— or something. You make me feel things, such incredible things, that I didn't even know—”

He opened his mouth wide around you, breaking the seal of his lips so he could speak against your skin. “I'm just a man,” he promised, “I'm just a husband becoming addicted to his new wife's pleasure, that's all, my dear.”

As he started to do it again so suddenly, you reacted suddenly as well: your hand found his hair and grabbed it, and your mind was too far gone to worry about it being too aggressive. Not that he gave any signs of annoyance— if anything it was the opposite, as he lapped at you harder in response.

This, of course made your hips jump up— until his hand slipped out of you, grabbing them and pulling them down, keeping you still as he continued. The simple show of dominance affected you greatly, another heavy pulse of pleasure hitting you suddenly.

“I-I'm close,” you whispered. “Laszlo, I'm so close— and it feels so different than before— I swear, nothing's ever felt so— fuck!”

He hummed encouragingly, and your whole body rocked in time with the growing pressure. His fingers sliding back inside you, seeming to curl even more than before, certainly added to the sensation.

Just as you were teetering on the edge, his teeth grazed impossibly-carefully over you, a sharp and raw sort of pleasure jolting your entire body. Of course, you couldn't fight against that, and the feeling inside you snapped as yet another flood of pleasure ripped through your body. Your ears were ringing but you still heard how loud you must have been, how totally wrecked and helpless your moans had become.

It wasn’t as… aggressive of a feeling as the one that had made you… you know… but it was probably the most powerful in its own way. The highest, the heaviest, the most whole. You couldn't hear him moaning against you through all that, but you could feel it: a deep and bassy vibration that only heightened the feeling even more. Your moans turned to cries and then sobs; it was too much, the feeling was spilling over inside you— you weren't sure how much longer you could take it all before you broke.

It seemed, however, that he broke first; he pulled away and sat up, leaving you both panting, sweaty messes.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he sighed, grabbing you by the neck to pull you up into a filthy, heated kiss. You surrendered instantly, grabbing into his shoulders with hands that were still pricked with pins and needles as your high dissipated slowly. “I can't wait anymore,” he mumbled against your lips, “I need to be inside you.”

“Please,” you gasped softly— you'd been waiting for this all night, at least. You'd never imagined yourself so eager, so desperate for it, though…

He made quick work untying his robe, leaning over you as he held tightly onto his cock and guided the swollen, leaking head between your lips. Yes, even with desire coursing through your veins, a touch of anxiety was still present. You just couldn’t imagine what this was going to be like, you could still hardly believe it was happening to you— and, though it was a bit crass to think, you were a bit surprised by the brief glance of his cock that you’d gotten. You wouldn’t really know what was big or small or normal or abnormal when it came to that… you had nothing to compare it to. What you did know was that it seemed much… thicker, than seemed appropriate to go inside you. Of course you knew that a young woman’s first experience could be painful, you’d heard that bleeding was normal (if not expected, but that seemed a bit barbaric and certainly not what a progressive man like Laszlo was after) — yet, you still weren’t properly scared. It was just the sort of anticipation that made you shiver and let out a long breath to compose yourself.

He groaned a little as he continued to rub against you, and you noticed the arm that held him up over you was shaking. You could only imagine how frustrating it must have been to be giving you all that attention and not getting any in return for so long, and you could only hope he might take a little of that frustration out on you…

“Please,” you said again, quieter, as you looked up at him. Thankfully, that was enough to make him press forward and slide into you all at once.

While his fingers had stretched you in such strange, sometimes overwhelming ways, his cock… it just fit. It filled you exactly the way you needed— not too wide or too deep… though you suspected it would've been had he not prepared you so incredibly thoroughly. And while his tongue has made you feel such unimaginable things, though his lips had effortlessly sucked ecstasy from your shaking body, having him inside you felt so simple and natural and easy.

He hissed in his breaths as he moved— slow at first, but each one just a bit faster than the last. Every movement stimulated all the places he'd already awoken inside you, and your legs moved on their own to latch around his hips while your head fell back with a satisfied sigh.

“My angel,” he groaned, staring down at you as each of his thrusts rocked you under him. “I knew I— fuck, darling— I knew I'd have trouble keeping myself together when I was finally inside you. Yet you're… you're even more perfect than I imagined.”

You smiled proudly, reaching up to hold his shoulders; he seemed encouraged by that, becoming just a bit rougher in his movements until your nails accidentally dug into his skin just a bit.

“I won't be able to last much longer,” he grunted, “but I-I can't stop. I can't even slow down, I never… I've never lost control like this before.”

A shiver ran up your whole body, even seeming to make you clench inside— and he moaned in return, a beautifully pitiful sound.

“I'm sorry,” he offered between panting breaths, and you barely mustered the energy to laugh.

“Beloved, what do you have to apologize for?” you teased through a grin. “Surely you're not worried that I will be left unsatisfied.”

“I would rather bring you to orgasm again,” he explained, “but I'm so desperate for you, I'm afraid I lack the patience for it.”

“I would rather pleasure my husband, for once,” you replied, “but you couldn't possibly feel what I felt, I don't think I'll ever be able to really return the favor—”

“It's no favor,” he insisted. “Your pleasure is what I desire. And a good wife gives her husband what he desires, no?”

You whimpered desperately, pathetically even. “I'll be good for you, Laszlo,” you promised weakly, “I want to be a good wife to you…”

“You're a very good wife, my dear,” he assured. “Look how much pleasure you've let me take from you, look how you've soaked our bed with your lovely nectar…”

You weren't sure which part of that aroused you the most… but our bed was a serious contender.

“And you taste absolutely divine,” he added, before kissing you again to let you taste it, too. It was a sloppy and needy kiss, not precise and careful like basically everything else he'd done to you so far, but you loved it. You loved any sign that he might be just as desperate as you.

Once again his speed and intensity picked up, until you could hear his skin hitting against yours loudly, and your back arched a bit at how perfectly dirty it felt. His cock hit a spot deep inside you, and you sucked in a sharp breath. “Laszlo,” you blurted out, and he groaned as he moved his kiss to your neck.

“Keep saying my name,” he demanded. “Tell me who your husband is— who makes you feel this way you've never felt before.”

“Laszlo,” you said again, “I'm yours. Anything you want from me, it's yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed with a heavy sigh.

“Your wife, always,” you continued, and it made your own heart swell along with encouraging him: he moved faster, rocked deeper into you, and breathed heavy against your ear as your back arched from the erotic perfection of the moment.

“My wife,” he repeated, making you whine and nod and bear down on him with your walls.

“Yes,” you gasped, “yes— yours, I’m yours—”

“I-I can't hold back anymore,” he moaned, “I don't… I don't even know if I can bring myself to pull out before—”

“Don't,” you begged. “I want it inside, Laszlo. I want all of you inside me.”

“Oh, darling, mein Schatz, I—” he choked, but he never finished his sentence. He just moaned louder and louder and fucked you faster and faster— until you were nearly screaming from how hard he hammered into you.

It stopped all at once; he pressed himself as deep inside you as he could, so deep you felt like you were struggling to breathe, and hid his face in the curve of your neck as he came inside you.

And for a long, beautiful moment, you just laid together; you were sort of halfway between awake and asleep, your whole body thrummed with emotions and sensations you never thought you could fit within yourself. Time passed, surely, but you wouldn’t have known the difference. His weight on top of you wasn’t too heavy, though it did keep you pressed into the mattress and sheets— not that you were going anywhere anyways.

You only really came back to reality when you felt small kisses trailing your neck; you hummed and squirmed a little beneath him, making you both groan as it stirred where you were connected. He must have been a bit sore, too, though you felt like you’d been through quite a lot more and had a better excuse.

He moved again, just barely, and you winced as you held onto his back. “Don’t go,” you whispered, afraid of the pain if he didn’t just stay still inside you.

“I have to, sometime,” he breathed in return.

“But—”

“I know, my love,” he cooed, “I’d stay inside you forever if I could. But I’ll hurt you more if I don’t give you time to rest.”

Resigning yourself with a sigh, you nodded a little and scrunched up your face as he pulled his hips back. It did sting, but it faded quickly once he was out— and the feeling was replaced with a warm, wet feeling that you realized must have been his seed leaking out of you. It made you feel a bit dirty, but wonderful, too.

He laid beside you with a deep breath, his hand coming up to your face and turning it so you would look back at him. You had to blink a few times to really see clearly, and even still, everything seemed a bit blurry around the edges. The whole world seemed a bit softer, really. “I love you, darling wife,” he told you simply, his voice soft but no longer a whisper, and he pet your cheek as he leaned in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“I love you too, husband,” you cooed in reply. “You’re so wonderful— a-and you’re nothing like I imagined, sometimes.”

“Perhaps I should have been more careful,” he offered nervously.

“No— that was perfect,” you promised.

“I meant the very end, there,” he clarified, his hand running down over your body and resting on your stomach. “You might have wanted to wait longer… if you had a child so soon, you might wish we had more time just the two of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realized what he meant. “Oh, that…” you mumbled, smiling a bit to yourself.

“I fully intended to have my finish elsewhere, to lower the chances— I didn’t think I would become so… impulsive,” he sighed. “I hoped to still control myself, but I’m afraid I wasn’t quite able to, once I was within you. But I couldn’t help it, with the way you feel…”

“It’s alright,” you laughed weakly, “it’s not as if I were acting rationally. I never… I didn’t think I could be so… so—”

A thousand words came to mind. Unladylike. Animalistic. Desperate. Insatiable.

“I didn’t think I’d ever act like that,” you said instead, voice getting a little softer as you felt a bit shy again.

“I knew you would,” he responded, making you look at him with wide eyes and warming cheeks.

“You— but I— I was always—!”

“Yes, you behaved very well each time I met you” he recalled with a proud smile, “always so sweet and well-mannered. But I knew you had so much need within you, so much hunger… a being of pure instinct just waiting to take over when the time was right.”

Your heart skipped a beat— you felt a bit… accused by that statement, yet you couldn’t really deny it. Even if you hadn’t known it before, it was clearly true now. “How… how could you have sensed that?” you wondered.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you again; you loved the way he looked in that moment. His expression was familiar, but the total lack of composure— flushed cheeks, sweat on his brow, messed hair— was totally new and quite pleasant. “If you didn’t have any desire to misbehave, my darling, you wouldn’t have been going out with me.”

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler smut

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unhinged-crow · 2 years

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had a dream that was doc centric, so time to catch up on his pov today!

#it was very great btw #no clue how to describe it but it was really cool. fantasy/surreal kinda beat. took place in basically a themepark melded with a jungle gym #the kind that you would find at kid arcades like chucky cheese and bonkers? yeah. that #and it was flooded or at the very least mainly submerged in water #i had tasks to complete with certain items. very fun! the hermits that were there was commentators #dont remember the details too well because i went back to sleep right after had a dream about my teacher in the same setting right after #that sounds bad because know teacher but honestly hes fucking hilarious. does NOT take shit from students and is very sarcastic #OH!!!!! REMEMBERED SOMETHING!!! doc's wife and child were also there and were a surprisingly big part of the dream! it was pure dad vibes #dont know why they were but they were #anyways #gonna get some ice cream watch his pov and then play on quill kingdoms for a bit #NEVER MIND LMAO FORGOT IT'S MONDAY FOR PHIL STREAM! oh scar just uploaded!!!!#do people read these? i dunno! hello if you are!

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ovaryacted · 6 months

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FEELING THE VIBE

PAIRING: ID!Leon x fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS: After taking some inspiration from a magazine's sex story column, you and your boyfriend indulge in reenacting one of your new fantasies.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Porn without plot. Oral (fem receiving). Body Worship. Overstimulation. Sex Toys. Sensory Depravation: Bondage & Blindfolding. Squirting. Multiple Orgasms. Dirty Talk. Praise. Domestication themes. Established relationship. Just Leon being a loving horny freak.

WC: 4.9k

NOTES: Finally after a little break, I have returned. This is the 3rd installment of my Kinktober (yes it's November I know), and it took a while for me to write this, but it's done. I was inspired by an erotic audio I heard a while back so I took a jab at it and made it my own. Sorry if it is a bit long, I tried to condense it but you can only fit so many words when writing out multiple orgasms. Anyway, you know the drill, I hope you like it, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

《 Kinktober Masterlist 2023 ⟡ Main Masterlist 》

“I want to try something”

Your voice cut through the comforting silence of your living room, body shifting on the couch from where you sat. As your head remained pressed against soft cotton and muscle, your lover tilted his face to look down towards you.

“Don’t know if I should be excited or scared”, that got Leon a playful slap on the shoulder and a roll of your eyes, making him chuckle in the process.

“Lay it on me then sweetheart. What’s on your mind?”, he watched as you nervously bit your lip, sitting up to face him directly.

“Do you remember that magazine from a week ago? The one you snatched from me?”, you told him, and his mind flashed back to the faint memory of the interaction.

“And what’s this?”, Leon only grinned as he took the Cosmopolitan magazine from your hands after you flipped to the next page. He moved towards the kitchen, laughing as you chased him to get your precious publication back.

“Ooooo, top 10 sex stories hmm? So this is what you’ve been reading?”

“Leon quit playing! Give it back!”, you tried to snatch it from him but you knew it was futile. The moment his eyes scanned the page you were on, you could tell you lost the battle.

“Me and my husband have been together for 6 years now and decided to spice things up in the bedroom. We did some research on things we could try and found out about sensory deprivation and overstimulation. That was something a bit trendy and I was intrigued, and I could speak for a few people who like me read Cosmopolitan for sex help so I decided to do some research. How kinky…”, you wanted to wipe the smirk clean off his face as he read the story you were skimming through. He took a second to look at you, and then back to the page as he continued reading it in his signature sarcastic tone.

“Over the weekend, after some wine we got in the mood and we tried out a few things. He tied me to the bed and blindfolded me while using one of my toys on me, which was all so new to us. I’ve never felt anything like that before, didn’t even know it was possible for me to cum so many times. I loved it, and my husband loved it probably a little too much because now he’s borderline obsessed with me. Thank you for all the work you do with your sex tips, you just made my marriage more fun, closing the orgasm gap one couple at a time. Much love!”, Leon finished reading the page, snickering when you finally grabbed it from him. “Wasn’t that something. You really read stuff like that?”

“No, I don’t. It just popped up on the page alright…”, your blush couldn’t be missed no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, and Leon only wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“If you wanted to try something new, all you had to do was tell me you know? It sounds like fun”, he teased at the suggestion, not making a big deal out of the idea of trying new things in the bedroom, but you knew he had your best interests in mind.

“You mean that?”, embarrassment aside, you looked at him, blue eyes full of sincerity. “I was just curious, and I was nervous to mention it I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to be nervous about anything, I’m not one to judge your fantasies anyway. You have them, I have them, everyone does. Whatever you want to do, no matter how crazy it seems, you tell me. I just want to make you happy”, Leon reassured you once more, holding your chin and giving you a soft kiss on the lips with a smile. “So go read more of your sex magazine, I’m going to start cooking”

“It is not just a sex magazine you know”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say”

“The one with the sex stories? Yeah, why?”, his voice brought you to the present once more, back to where you both sat on the couch.

“That one story you read out loud, I want to try that”, you felt your cheeks get warm at the change in topic. The gears in Leon’s head started to turn, his mind catching up to understand what you meant.

“Oh…oh. Like right now?”, he watched as you moved closer to him, your hands going from his chest to caress the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yes, right now. I’m bored, and I want you to entertain me. Please?”, your face hovered over his, the ends of your noises touching lightly.

“Well when you ask so nicely, how could I say no to you”, he gave you exactly what you wanted and kissed you. His hands were on your hips, bringing you towards his lap and wrapping your legs around his body.

With ease, he lifted you from the couch, smiling against your lips as you released a giggle. His fingers dug into the bottom of your thighs, walking towards your shared bedroom and plopping you onto the mattress. He couldn’t help himself as he stole more kisses from you, the growing stubble on his chin rubbing against your face. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, wanting to bring him closer to you if that were possible.

Pulling away from you, he grew more handsy, taking off your loungewear and keeping your underwear on while you removed his shirt in the process, his sweats hanging low on his hips. No matter how many times you got him like this, you never got tired of the view.

“You know, ever since I read that little column I did some shopping”, Leon said, moving away from you to dig through the closet for something. You sat up on your elbows, observing him walk back with a blindfold and a pair of fuzzy-lined handcuffs. Your eyebrows raised at him, not knowing what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this.

“Did you buy this stuff?”, you chuckled nervously, making Leon laugh with you.

“I mean yeah, I wanted to be prepared”, you almost snorted at the thought of your boyfriend being so attentive he did his own research to fulfill your experiences. If only you knew the lengths he went to type in BDSM toys on his phone when you weren’t paying attention.

“You’re such a dork”, you shook your head, bringing him back down to kiss him again in appreciation. “But it’s cute”

“I try to be. You still want to try this?”, he eyed your face carefully, making sure there weren’t any doubts in wanting to engage in your fantasy.

“Yeah, I do. Do you want to? This shouldn’t be just about me you know”

“Whatever gets you off gets me off, you know that. Now, enjoy my face one more time, you won’t be seeing it for a bit”

Leon brought the blindfold towards your eyes, tying it snugly behind your head as the soft material covered you, forcing you into a pit of darkness. It wasn’t uncomfortable, by any means, it was the complete opposite. The fact that you couldn’t see anything and had to rely on Leon’s voice was enough to make the hairs on your arms stand up.

“How’s that? Not uncomy or anything?”, you heard Leon speak, making you nod and release an airy exhale.

“Yeah, it’s good. I don’t see anything”

“Good. Arms up honey, I ain’t done yet”, that command sent a shiver down your spine, and you followed his directions instantly.

Laying down on the bed and lifting your arms above your head, you felt the bed shift as Leon got on his knees. The soft material of the lined handcuffs wrapped around your wrists, and you heard the soft click of them locking in place between the wooden bars of the headboard. They were tight enough that you wouldn’t be able to slip out of them, but comfortable so they didn’t leave marks on your skin.

Not that you would’ve minded that.

“How about now?”, your head moved towards the sound of Leon’s voice again, the added constraint of not being able to see or touch him made your heart rate spike.

“Still good, kinda sad I can’t touch or see you”, you pouted when you said that, getting another chuckle out of Leon. The sound alone warmed up your body, and your imagination began to run wild at what he had in store for you.

“I remember the magazine said they used toys, and I know you have a few. You still want me to use one on you?”, the prospect of Leon using whatever you had tucked away in your bedside drawer made your core ache.

“Yeah, you can use one”, your voice got the slightest bit more breathless, and you could swear you envisioned him smiling.

“I won’t tell you which one I use, but I’ll leave it up to you to figure it out”

You heard shuffling towards your left and the sound of a drawer opening, blushing as Leon looked at your cluster of toys. He wasn’t an idiot, knowing full well you had to handle your own needs when he was gone for days to weeks at a time on missions or being held up in D.C. But seeing them all up close, some that he’s personally gotten for you, left him almost stunned at your ever-growing collection.

“Eennie…meenie…miny…moe”, Leon counted off, shaking your head in disbelief at how he still managed to find the time to be humorous. You felt the mattress dip again, signaling that he was back on the bed, at least that was how you imagined it anyway.

Rough fingertips skimmed over your bare thigh, followed by you taking a shaky breath at the touch. It wasn’t unexpected, but you felt your other senses going into overdrive with your loss of sight. Leon’s fingers moved from grazing your thigh, up your lower stomach and towards your chest. He skated across one of your nipples, making you gasp out and crave more with the slightest arch of your back.

“Somebody’s sensitive”

“Shut up and quit teasing”, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation at him, growing impatient at how he was toying with you.

“Feisty too. Do you really want to say that when you’re like this? You asked me to do this baby”, he was mocking you now, finding enjoyment in your predicament.

You didn’t have a second to complain more when Leon’s lips were on yours again, groaning in his mouth as he forced it open with his own. The tip of his tongue lined your bottom lip, and you happily opened up so he could slip it inside.

Your tongue caressed his, submitting to the attention while his hands went to squeeze at your breasts. He groped and kneaded, his thumb and pointer finger pinching your nipples and swallowing the moans you made. Drawing away from you, he watched how you chased his lips and your wrists yanked on the handcuffs in an attempt to reach out to him.

“You look so pretty like this, all tied up for me to play with”, your ears perked up at the way Leon’s voice dropped an octave, knowing that he was getting into it as much as you were.

His lips were on your neck, kissing wherever he could while he kept your hips pinned to the bed with one hand. You felt his stubble rubbing against you as he continued on his path, sucking at your collarbone and leaving faint marks for you to cover with concealer the next morning. Moving towards your left breast, he popped your neglected nipple in his mouth. You cursed loudly at the feel, pulling on the handcuffs again as you desired to run your fingers through his hair knowing you couldn’t.

Leon hummed against your skin, tongue lavishing the hardened nub and touching the other absentmindedly. His head moved to suck at the other nipple, giving it the same attention and mouthing at it loudly so you could hear his suckling. Giving you one harsh bite on your chest he blew on the wet skin, your thighs twitching as he did.

More wet kisses followed in between the valley of your breasts, down to your lower stomach, and over your navel. His mouth trailed over the waistband of your panties, dragging down one side of it until your bare hip was shown to him, nipping at the skin. You whimpered under him when he slipped the offending material down your legs and flung it to God knows where. Your legs parted for him instinctively, much to Leon’s enjoyment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you want. Let me have my fun”, his lips ghosted your right thigh, starting from the inner crease of your hip and down to the side of your knee. He didn’t stop his kissing, shifting down to your ankle before going up on the other leg. Your breathing was labored by the time he reached your other hip, fingers curling around your thigh to spread you open for him.

You yelped when he placed a soft kiss on your clit, hips shooting towards his direction for more despite being pinned down. He hummed at your reaction, kissing around where you needed him most but never giving you more than what he decided was enough.

“Leon please…”, you pulled at the handcuffs again, the sound of metal rattled against the headboard you were bound to.

“My needy baby”, he huffed a breath, tilting his head to give your twitching nub a good suck. You threw your head back at the sensation, wishing he would give you more but he moved away before you were satisfied. Already growing frustrated with him, you lamented when you couldn’t feel his face against you anymore, your head dropping on the pillow and pondering what he would do next.

That was when you heard it, the soft buzzing that began to fill the walls of your bedroom. He had one of your toys in his hands and the mystery of not knowing which one added to the appeal of this entire dynamic.

“Open up your legs for me, I’ll make you feel good”, Leon’s promise filtered through your ears, and you followed through, bending your legs at the knee and spreading them more.

The first sensation of the vibrator against your clit made you jerk up, taking a second to let your body adjust to it. Your mind was trying to focus on which one of your toys Leon picked out, and from the way he pressed it more onto your body, it had to be the dual vibrator you liked to use the most for its two attachments. Smartass.

You pushed your hips out towards the toy, chasing the feeling as it filled your body with pleasure. Softly humming at the consistent pattern Leon chose, he let you grind towards him for more. Although you couldn’t see him, you knew he was watching you, taking in the way you shuddered when he angled the smaller tip just the way you liked.

“That feel good?”, you nodded, beginning to feel the vibrations take over your body slowly.

“Let me take it up a notch”

Your lower stomach did flips when Leon increased the intensity of the toy, your back curving off the bed with a cry. The sounds of the vibrator grew louder, paired with the lewd wetness that got worse as it started to seep out of you. Strong hands wrapped around your thigh again, keeping you spread open as you fought the urge to close them from the added onslaught on your body.

The prior teasing left you worked up the moment you hit the mattress, and you could feel your first orgasm bubbling in your gut. Leon saw it too, pressing the toy harder on your clit and moving it up and down against the wet skin, mimicking the way his tongue would stroke you. He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your face turning in hopes of getting a kiss but he opted out to whisper in your ear instead.

“Come on baby, I know you’re close. Give it to me. Be a good girl and cum for me”

It was an easy request, the rubberband of tension snapping harshly as your first release washed over you. You moaned loudly, pulling against the handcuffs again and digging your nails into your palm. Leon praised you along the way, talking you through it to make up for your loss of sight. You half expected him to take the wand off your body and leave it at that, but he didn’t stop. Another pathetic whine slipped out of you, realizing he wasn’t going to give you a break and planned on pushing you to the limit.

“That’s one. You can give me another right?”, it was a question of reassurance, but you couldn’t tell him to stop even if you wanted to.

The waves of pleasure lingered in your body and the vibrations continued, your breath hitching as you didn’t get a moment to breathe. Cumming more than once wasn’t new to your sex life, hell it became essential once you and Leon met and started messing around. But having no pause in what was being done to you was fairly new, and you started to think you bit off more than you could chew when asking for this.

But this was what you signed up for, and you were going to enjoy every second of it.

“F-Fuck, yeah. Just please, please…”, you wantonly replied to him, giving him full control to do whatever he wanted, so long as it left you satisfied.

Leon flicked his wrist then, repositioning the other end of the vibrating toy against your entrance and nudging your outer lips. You clenched around nothing, yearning for the emptiness to be filled with something, anything you could get.

“Yeah, I know your pretty pussy wants to be filled up. I’ll give you what you need”, Leon’s voice grew husky, biting his lower lip and feeling his cock throb in his sweatpants.

He fulfilled his promise, slowly inserting the second bulbous silicone tip into your body. You tugged at the handcuffs harshly, a loud sob falling from your lips at how your drooling canal wrapped around the toy snugly. It was as if your entire body was vibrating now, not being able to escape the dual sensation of your clit and g-spot being stimulated at the same time.

“That’s it sweetheart, that’s it”, Leon was enjoying this too much, maintaining the same level of intensity with the toy and starting to thrust it at an even tempo.

You felt hot to the touch, getting closer to elation with every electric beat that filled your limbs. Loud moaning was exchanged for choked breaths, your head lolling to one side of the pillow and trying to stay grounded. The familiar coil wrapped tighter around you, bucking your hips towards Leon’s hands as if it were instinct. You whimpered again, the rhythm of the toy’s pulsing getting stronger with a single press of a button.

“Shit, shit, L-Leon please…”, you started to get scared at the intensity of your second release, the speed of how it crept up on you taking you off guard.

“I know baby, I know. Cum for me again, I know you can”, he encouraged you once more, upping the voltage on the toy to the max setting and watching hungrily at your squirming figure.

One more drive inside you was all it took for you to seize up, a noisy wail emitting from your throat as you came around the toy. Your climax was damn near violent, liquid fire filling your gut and spilling out underneath you. Your mind reached a state of nirvana you never touched before, ears ringing and an all-consuming shock rippling from your feet up to the top of your head. You were so out of it you couldn’t feel the way your fluids drenched the sheets below, instead leaving it to Leon to watch it all happen.

The only thing keeping you grounded to the mattress was a large hand on your hip, squeezing in an attempt to soothe your trembling thighs. You felt like you were floating, intense relief paired with a desperate need for more you couldn’t explain. On the next inhale, the toy was turned off and carefully pulled out of you, leaving your hole dripping and convulsing.

“I didn’t know you could do that”, you heard Leon say again, struggling to slow your heartbeat that pounded in your chest.

“What do you mean?”, you asked quizzically, your eyesight growing blurry when the blindfold was taken off your head. Your pupils focused on the blonde’s face, noticing how he looked at you in awe.

“You just squirted all over the bed”, you felt your cheeks turn red, embarrassed as you felt the way your entire lower half went numb, the ghost of the vibrations still running over you. He didn’t give you the chance to wallow in your shame, his voice running through the reeling mess of your mind.

“Want to watch you do it again”, he purred at you with a grin, moving down your body and lifting your legs onto his shoulders.

Leon’s head was in between your legs, lapping away at your folds and groaning at the sweetness of you filling his tongue. He was messy with it, audibly sucking everything you had to give and all you could do was take it. His warm tongue flicked at your oversensitive clit, having to dig your face into your forearm to stop yourself from shouting. The handcuffs clinked above you from where you were stuck to the headboard, your nails leaving indents in your skin.

“Leon I c-can’t. It’s too much”, you mewled when Leon gave you a harsher suck, his fingers teasing your pussy, still hot and wanting more despite your words.

“You can give me another one, don’t play with me”, he growled at you, slipping two thick fingers inside you and curling against that spot tucked at the roof of your body.

“Your needy cunt isn’t telling me no, and I’m not stopping until you squirt for me again. I know you can”, he marveled at the lack of resistance as he burrowed his fingers deep inside you, going back to lick at your clit.

He was greedy in the way he feasted on you, licking at you in precise circles as the tips of his fingers jabbed at your g-spot consistently. Every sound that came out of your mouth was broken, whining every time he drew his digits out just to push back into you. Slyly, he switched techniques, curling his fingers against the textured spot inside you and sucking at your clit in pulses, pressing a hand against your lower stomach.

The pit of flames was lit again, static filling your body and your sight becoming bleary with tears. You couldn’t stop the internal carnal heat from growing, the same sharp feeling from your last release being renewed with every pump of Leon’s fingers. It was too much too quickly, your face growing flushed and losing sense of reality the closer you got to the edge.

“Please, Leon I-”, you didn’t even know what you were begging for anymore, needing both more and less at the same time and not knowing which one you preferred.

“Soak my fucking face baby. Do it so I can fuck you. C’mon, give it to me, I need it”

His words were the last nails in the coffin, your face twisting in a silent scream of pure bliss. You felt like you were being engulfed in flames as your third release in 15 minutes swallowed you whole, an out-of-body experience that didn’t seem to stop. It was as if you were tumbling over a high that never crashed, not knowing where the first climax ended or the next one began. All the energy you had left was sucked completely out of you quite literally, your eardrums rang and your legs wouldn’t stop quivering against the bed.

Leon’s head appeared from between your legs with the widest grin you had ever seen on him. His lips were plump, and the stubble that adorned his jaw was covered in your wetness. You were too dazed to pay close attention to the way he licked at his lips, chasing the remaining flavor of you.

“You want a taste too?”, he said, grabbing your jaw and kissing you sloppily. He made sure to let your mouth fill with the tanginess that he familiarly recognized as your essence, the both of you panting as your tongues meshed together.

“Let me fuck you, please”, Leon almost begged for it, sweats halfway down his thighs and his cock already positioned against you. Weakly, you nodded, not even bothering to lift your head when he slid deep inside you so smoothly.

“Fuuckkk, you’re soaked, so goddamn warm”, he was mumbling under his breath, chasing his own pleasure and using your body for it. You were more than willing, not being able to do much of anything but just take it.

Leon didn’t hold back in the slightest, pounding into your body while your hands remained above your head. His hands held on to your thighs, hips smacking into yours harshly with every shove of his dick inside you. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, body growing limp, and the pleasure evolved as you tipped between the edge of overstimulation and pain. You desperately wanted to touch him, to feel him pressed against you, but you could only take what was given to you.

Lightbulbs went off in Leon’s head, grabbing the tossed toy from the side of the bed and turning it back on. He pressed it against your clit once more, a rough grumble coming from deep within his chest as he felt the vibrations filling his body. You cried out, the handcuffs rattling above your head as your body felt like it was being pushed beyond what you thought was possible. Tears ran down your flushed cheeks, Leon not giving you a moment to adjust and losing himself in his insurgency to feel you cum around him.

“I can’t, I c-can’t”, you were begging for mercy, knowing full well Leon wouldn’t give it to you until you fell over the edge one more time.

“One more. Give me one more sweetheart, and I’ll stop. Need to feel you cum for me one more time, I got you baby, I got you”, he was like a man possessed, fucking you in a reckless frenzy as you tightened around him.

You didn’t know if you had it in you to cum again, but Leon was persistent as always. He upped the speed on the vibrator, pressing it harder against your oversensitive nub up and down like he did before. It was too extreme, making you choke on air and your throat grow raw from the sounds that will end up giving you a noise complaint.

The next moment your nerves short-circuited and your mind went blank, your fourth climax pummeling through you so aggressively you couldn’t contain the scream that came out of you. It was the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, reaching the point of pain from the oversensitivity, and your lower stomach cramped from the force of it. You didn’t hear Leon when he praised you again, his voice sounding distant and far away as black spots filled your vision.

He filled your cunt with his hot seed right after, bottoming inside you until he couldn’t get any deeper. Turning the toy off completely and reaching up to undo the handcuffs, he was gentle in touching you again. A part of him was ready to beg for forgiveness, for pushing you too hard and getting carried away. But those thoughts dispelled from his mind when your arms weakly wrapped around his shoulders, silently relieved you didn’t black out on him.

“I don’t think I can move”, your voice cracked when you talked, stray tears lining your eyes and he wiped at your cheeks. You were trembling underneath him, your legs quaked despite not being able to move them. Your body felt heavy, like it was sinking into the mattress, but you’ve never experienced such profound pleasure it left you immobilized.

“Sorry about that. You did so good for me, so damn good. Did you like that?”, he whispered into your neck, kissing your skin as you nodded, both starting to come down from your respective highs.

He hadn’t slipped out yet, just letting the both of you bask in the afterglow of this new experience. Had he known he could make you feel this good, he would’ve tried this a long time ago.

“We should do this again”

“Oh we are. I gotta break my record of making you cum four times”, you hit him on the shoulder again, aware that his words were half serious. Meanwhile, he was already plotting in his head how he could make you reach numbers five and six.

“So does this mean you’re going to keep doing your research on my sex stories?”, he lifted his head to look at you, a smirk already on his face.

“That depends. Which ones do you want to try next?”

©️ ovaryacted 2023. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

taglist: @roseglazedlens @kennedyswhore @httpsvix @daydreamrot @dmitriene @scar-crossedlvrs @valsthea

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil imagines #resident evil fanfic #resident evil smut #id!leon kennedy #resident evil leon kennedy #ovaryacted fics #ovaryacted kinktober #kinktober 2023 #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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linddzz · 3 months

Text

My brain is on human Dreamling again where everything is pretty much the same as the Red Flags AU but instead they meet when Johanna forces Morpheus to go to a pub with her because she's sick of being the more emotionally stable one since his divorce and then the crashed and burned rebound with Thessaly. He needs to get social and get his shit together so it can be her turn to have a breakdown damnit.

So she takes him to The New Inn, where she actually likes the bartender and knows the dude would make friends with anything. Hob Gadling is an unstoppable force of chill friendly vibes and charm. Either he is going to get her bitchy friend out of his shell a bit OR it's going to be a fun night watching Morpheus play the confused and alarmed cat being confronted with an unstoppably friendly golden retriever. Win-win.

And she knows...she knows that it's a risk introducing Morpheus to an intelligent person who has a charming smile and big dark eyes. There is a huge risk that Morpheus will find out the bartender is also a history professor who likes Medieval literature, and he's going to get that keen hungry look to him.

But hey, Morpheus only really gets interested in people if they go after him first. And he's pretty but his fucking attitude is great at sending the red flags hot mess signals to every other adult around. Hob's a smart one. He's friendly but generally flirty and charming with everyone, and he's seen enough hot mess types at the bar to know what the signs are. So this should be safe.

Right????

And at first it does go fine! Morpheus has shoved himself into the far edge seat at the bar and been a huge bitch the entire time because he's been forced out by Johanna. He's sneering at every attempt by Hob to engage in friendly chit chat, already stole Johanna's drink, threw a fit and outright said "I am not above making a scene" when she took his phone so he couldn't read one of his e-books (he pulled an actual book out of his bag right after), and is overall being fucking awful. This is a man in his 30s and acting like this. He is a father. All is well. He had surely scared off any initial interest his pretty face got him. Johanna can rest easy that no one is going to make any moves that Morpheus can then fixate himself on and start working himself into spiralling fantasies of soul mates and wistful sighs.

Cue the comedy beat where she turns around for ONE SECOND and when she looks back she sees;

Hob, elbows on the bar and chin in his hands entirely up in Morpheus' space: hey ;)))

Johanna: ......fuck

Morpheus: ...................................*closes his book*

Johanna: FUCK!!!!!!!!!

#GOD FUCKIN DAMNIT GADLING #GADLING NO ITS LIKE FEEDING A FERAL CAT YOU CANT GIVE HIM A SCRAP #I THOUGHT YOU WERE SMART GADLING WHAT THE FUCK #Dreamling #human au #the dynamic with Hob and Morpheus is pretty much the exact same as the hot mess au #honestly they could be melded together and still turn into a '''fake date'''“ scenario

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thel0v3hashira143 · 22 hours

Text

❝ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐘𝐄𝐒! ❝

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ married life with jjk men ☆ yuuji megumi gojo geto nanami n ino!

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masterlist 💕

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ warnings: fem!reader, reader is a sorcerer, black coded but anyone can read, mentions of sex/pregnancy/kids, mentions of breakups

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ notes: sorry they're kinda short!! i abandoned my ap chem work to do this so pls like it up!😞😞inspired by my personal fantasies lately. sighhh i love my man :3 stay hot!!! 🎀

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 1.1k words, 6.3k characters

yuuji itadori 🌸

BRUHH I LOVE HIM SM HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL

the first out of the bunch to tie the knot

a high school sweetheart kinda vibe like y'all def got married straight out of graduating jujutsu tech

small and intimate wedding, just friends and family in attendance

never shuts up about you when you guys are apart.

"y'know [name]- my wife, me and my wife-, isn't my wife just the coolest?"

megumi and nobara are SICK OF HIM

absolutely REFUSES to go on missions without you cause bby just wants to protect you

when you guys finish missions he always takes you out to eat in tokyo, it's like a lil tradition you guys do 🥲💕

as for dates it's always super spontaneous and he makes sure you never do the same thing twice

but he likes to stay home too!! movie dates at home are his favorite, but he won't tell you since he knows you like going out

HE ALSO PAYS FOR UR STUFF AT THE BEAUTY SUPPLY UGHHH

just follows you around as you fill up the basket and is ready to pay at the register

he's just so happy he's yours.

megumi fushiguro 🌸

not THE last! but one of the last to get married

BUT HE LOVES U SO FREAKING MUCH

it took him a couple years to pop the question, not because he wasn't sure about your relationship, but because he wanted to make sure he was ready before making such a big commitment

no wedding, y'all eloped and went to the courthouse but you had a little ceremony after :3

isn't super vocal about his affections like yuuji, but he does small things

you're his homescreen and his lockscreen is a picture of you two at the courthouse when you guys got married 🩷

he trust your abilities but does secretly fret when you go on missions alone

as for dates he's def a homebody...

he considers any one on one time with you a date...not in a lame way tho!

he just finds the two of you in your home alone to be intimate and comfortable

speaking of home alone...you guys have one kiddo since you guys were a little older when you tied the knot!!

a cute little girl who is y'alls pride and joy. when you told megumi you were pregnant tho he was terrified.

he just didn't want to turn out like his father

but he loves you and your little girl dearly 🩷.

satoru gojo 🌸

THE BLUE EYED PRINCE IS UR HUSBAND??? girl whats ur secret??

anyways, small wedding (he didn't want the elders all up in ur buisness) happy home, and wayyy too many kids

nobody expected you both to have so many kids but you have such a beautiful body!! how could he keep his hands off you?

and besides look at him and tell me he doesn't have a breeding kink...

due to you both being the strongest sorcerers and the kids, your schedules got a bit hectic but he always makes sure you're taken care of

multiple calls day and night, he loves to hear your voice...or moans. (he's hi-key a freak)

RESTURAUNT DATES

we know he loves sweets but you guys always go to nice restaurants, cause he believes you deserves the finest things in life

and he loves his kid so dearly

he's giving me 2 girls, 1 boy energy

from the tea parties, makeovers and late video game nights, he endures it all because of how much he adores them.

he adores you even more tho <3.

suguru geto 🌸

the. perfect. husband.

anything you want? you got it.

hair? done. nails? how much is your set?

definitely had the biggest wedding out of everyone (and the biggest ring)

AND A HUGE HONEYMOON like y'all were gone at least 2 weeks

everyone's fav couple, like nobody ever gets sick of y'all

he absolutely lovesss pda can can't keep his hands to him self. always has a hand on your lower back, arm around your shoulders, and he's just super in tune to you as a whole

wants kids bad, LIKE BAD

and y'all got busy on that honeymoon so you def had one pretty soon after the wedding

when you were pregnant, he spoiled you rotten and he made it his #1 priority to make sure you hadn't a worry in the world

you have 2 beautiful girls and suguru loves them more than life

he tries his best to keep them away from sorcerer life for as long as possible because he knows what it's like to be ostracized because of that life

has no favorites, but if he did it would be you.

kento nanami 🌸

sighhh my old man :)))

last to marry, but the ceremony was beautiful!

intimate but like i said, vv nice

lovesss to spoil you!! and plus we all know he makes hella bank bc he needs someone to spend it on

shopping dates!! mostly consist of him following you around and you just picking out what you like

if you even look at smth he's already at the register

prefers staying at home dates though, like reading together, cooking together, and movie dates!!

minimizes pda in public- perhaps holds your hand maybe

but in private he is so clingyyyy like you have to tear him off you lip to lip, chest to chest, hip to hip, you name it

you practically hung the stars, you could do no wrong in his eyes

is 50/50 on kids???

he's not going to actively ask you to start a family but he also is totally on board if you want to

we all know this man is under a lot of stress so his favorite way to spend time with you is coming home after a long day and cuddling with you 🩷

he's utterly obsessed with you (he's just good at hiding it)

takuma ino 🌸

THIS IS LITERALLY MY HUSBAND GUYS- HEAR ME OUT

high school sweethearts but y'all broke up right before graduation

you guys adored eachother but he was scared of losing you once you guys became sorcerers ಥ_ಥ

but fear not! you guys got back together a year- 2 years later bc he's in love with u

he wanted to propose as soon as you got back together but he has more common sense than that

when he does though it's so cutieee

def private and small, just like the wedding. only your closest friends and family, because he wants everything to be perfect

loves fun dates like laser-tag, go-carts, ect. bc he is just a big little kid

if you do missions together, he is literally that scene from hotel transylvania: "that's my girlfriend!" "your wife, ino..." "my wife? even better!"

i'm not even gonna sugarcoat it y'all get pregnant immediately after

ino is def terrified. you guys are both young and you've barely been married for 3 months

but he pulls it together obv and y'all have a cutie little son <3

just like yuuji, he gushes about his little family to nanami constantly (kento acts like he hates it but he finds it endearing)

he reads to your son for bedtime every night WITHOUT FAIL

he always thinks about how he wouldn't have things any other way.

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ i wrote this in like 2 hours and i have a chem quiz tommorow i hope u guys like it 😿😿(pls love me) BUT I GET TO SEE MY MAN TOMMORROW AHHHH. sorry i'm not gonna shut up about himmm. ok bye stay hot ily guys sm!!!!

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐲 ♡

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𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚!

𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙡0𝙫3𝙝𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙖143 2024

#Words of the Love Hashira 💗#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuji x reader #megumi x reader #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #ino x reader #x black fem reader #black writers on tumblr

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landwriter · 1 year

Note

hob gadling being so goddamn normal compared to his anthropomorphic husband, in-laws, and husband's social circle that he circles right back around to being the more sus/shady one OR hob gadling keeps accidentally derailing dream's attempts to be King of Nightmares by horny vibes/going "joke's on you, i'm into it"/"promise?" to any and all threats

Hob isn't normal, is the thing. He's not. He never was. He was smouldering with strangeness and hunger long before his future sister-in-law took one look at him and decided he'd be good for her little brother.

He asked her, once, bit drunk, if that was why she chose him: if she'd heard him forswearing her in the White Horse and looked at him, peered into the contents of his soul, and thought: well, there's one at least as stubborn as my brother - maybe they'll be good for each other. She'd just smiled and waited for Hob to take another sip before saying, "Good? I just thought it would be interesting," and twinkled at him when he sputtered. Hob said older sisters were terrors, and they'd toasted to that.

Whether she'd intended or not, they were good for each other, him and Dream. It took them a little bit to realize, a small handful of centuries holding one another at arm's length for fear of what would be seen any closer. Then they'd crashed together anyways, and it had turned out they were matched not just in that bloody-minded stubbornness to keep a decent thing going, but also in all the intensity they'd tried to smother to do so, the roaring hunger and devotion and need; the both of them strange creatures capable of giving so much and greedy enough to take just as much in kind.

On the outside, though, others see Dream, his distance, his power, the thunder of his voice, and don't see it as the armour it is, the necessary carapace protecting the sort of tender feelings that could scorch the entire earth, because he is a vessel for human emotions that are strong enough to live on in stories and dreams, because he is, in that respect, - and Hob gets choked up about this, if he allows himself to think about it too much - fundamentally more human than him, than all of them, the embodiment of every fantasy and fear and tall tale of men, tending to them each night, taking no rest for himself.

On the outside, others see Hob, his banal humanness, and other humans assume the rest of him is the same, and so do most non-humans, except they're baffled by it, baffled by why he is Dream's husband. So he plays it up, because it's funny, and if they're too incurious or gullible to figure out what lays beneath, then that's alright, because his husband figured it out, and loves him for it, and that's all he needs.

Dream didn't understand at first why Hob acted extra human whenever they mingled with other capital-e Entities and inhuman sorts, but now he finds it so amusing as well that Hob wonders how the gig isn't up from the moment anyone sees his twitching smirk. His husband has a terrible poker face, Hob thinks.

He's much better at pretending. In fact, he's so good at performing the petty normality expected of him that it goes full circle and becomes, somehow, magnetically strange to all the fantastical creatures in his husband's social circle.

He had not realized the heady effect of normal human upon non-humans until the time he had gone to a Samhain 'do in the Underhill, in his formal role as Prince Consort to the Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, first of his name, et cetera, and, rather comfortable with those sort of events by then, which were really not that dissimilar to interdepartmental faculty parties, with all the posturing and alcohol, only far better outfits, had, a bit soused on the fantastic elphin mead, accidentally started talking with a member of the faerie delegation about the football tables. At first he thought he'd committed a faux pas when the faerie just stared at him, slack-jawed, but later that night, he'd found himself surrounded by a cluster of wide-eyed dryads and undine and fae, gratifyingly holding court on why Billy Wright had been such a shite Arsenal manager. Apparently, it was the highlight of the evening.

It also helps grease the wheels of immortal statecraft, which Hob thinks of as something of a secondary benefit to making his husband smile. He would be a fierce bodyguard and soldier for Dream, in a heartbeat, he would curry favour on his behalf with pretty words and eager gladhanding, but what works out best, he's realized, is when important folk approach them to talk shop with Dream, to head it off with warm conversation about things like Tube construction, ABBA, and sausage rolls, until they look thoroughly disconcerted, before gracefully handing them off to his husband.

Whenever the occasion allows it, he'll skip on the finery too (another thing, he thinks, that he only cares about his husband seeing). Once, a baku ambassador, himself arrayed in glorious golden robes that matched his sharp gilt claws, had been so baffled by Hob's appearance on the arm of Dream, in his ratty old jeans and a United jersey he got as a gag gift once (and, on principle, refuses to wear in the Waking) that the chimera had absently agreed with Dream's suggestion for revised quotas on devouring nightmares.

Dream had been so delighted by that victory that he'd pressed Hob up against the front door of their flat in Islington, the moment they got back in, and laid kisses all over the hideous jersey, murmuring that Hob was a fearsome diplomat, and Hob had laughed and said he was only a distraction, then let Dream drag him to the bedroom anyways to thank him for his contribution.

Some see what's underneath, of course, and Hob's just as glad for that too.

The second time they'd had dinner with Crowley and Aziraphale, well past the food and making excellent headway on the rest of the wine, Dream had been called away on urgent business. Hob thought the night would end there, but the moment Dream left, Crowley had leveled an unsober finger of accusation at Hob and said, "Don't think I can't tell what you're doing."

Hob hadn't needed to try and look confused, but then Crowley leaned in and said, conspiratorially and only accidentally hissing a little, "This 'regular bloke' thing, but you're worssse than him, aren't you? Bet you are. Bet anything," and Aziraphale had genuinely emitted a tiny gasp of affront on Hob's behalf, and Hob was too busy laughing to say that he wasn't wrong at all, while Crowley gleefully swiveled around and said "I told you so, angel. S'obvious. Humansss. Not a normal one among 'em."

It was a lovely thing to say, actually, and all too easy for Hob to forget sometimes, being a particularly abnormal human leading a particularly abnormal life. But Crowley knew what he was talking about. He spent far more time with humanity compared to most of the inhuman lot. When Hob had made him promise to keep his secret from the rest of them - humanity's secret, really - and explained why, Crowley had laughed and laughed and laughed. He thinks it's the moment they became proper friends.

Hob isn't normal, is the thing.

But it's fun to don it like ceremonial garb and be an ambassador of humanity twice over: in truth and performance both. It's fun to be exactly what's expected and still disconcert.

And most of all, it's fun to go back home with his husband, to their terribly normal human flat, and curl up together in their terribly normal human bed, and watch Dream's face flush with pride or amusement as he debriefs Hob on what chaos he's wrought this time, intentionally or otherwise, with his terribly normal human presence, and Hob just laughs, then smiles until his face hurts, because Dream is his husband, wholly apart from humanity and still the most human creature Hob has met, and he knows all the ways that Hob feels like both, too.

#dreamling #the sandman #asks #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #prompt fill #he IS normal in a lot of ways too but you know unreliable narrator #weaponizing ur banality against the eldritch and fantastical #mostly bc ur husband finds it funny #new headcanon: crowley and hob are absolutely best mates #little feral creatures who understand the horrors and delights of humankind alike #hedonists who love modern inventions and distrust large bureaucracies #whose luddite partners are very lovely but fundamentally would rather be in a library reading old books

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fictionismyreality3 · 4 months

Text

Hold Still

Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Tags: Tattoo Artist!Bucky, innocent!reader if you squint, sorta mutual pining, comfort, fluff

Warnings: tattoos and everything that comes with them

Word Count: 3k

Notes: EEEEEE this is my first oneshot on this blog 🥳 as always not really proofread im not sorry 🤓 I wanted to add like grumpy x sunshine underlines and BARK BARk tattoo artist Bucky 😩🙏🏻 Peace out my homies ✌🏻

The sound of your shoe tapping against the checkered linoleum floor tile filled the waiting room of "Brooklyn's Best Tattoos". It was raining outside and the streets were quiet aside from the occasional horn of an angry driver or a street seller trying to get their final deals for the day. Your bright yellow umbrella stood out against the walls of chipped black paint and a smokey atmosphere.

You kept your gaze flitting about the room, landing on the magazines on a coffee table and stickers placed haphazardly across various furniture. The few people sitting across from you reflected the vibe of the tattoo shop perfectly. Darkly eccentric clothes, skin painted with ink, and a tired look to their eyes.

When you had booked this tattoo appointment you didn't know what to expect. And now, sitting with an awkward stiffness in the hardbacked waiting room chair, you began to question your decision. How embarrassing would it be if you just got up and left? Surely you could get a refund?

It had been 3 months since your Grandpa Henry had passed away, and you didn't want his existence to be some fleeting memory, you had to get something permanent for him. You had been planning on getting some art commission to hang up in your apartment, but that fantasy was quickly dashed by your rather thin wallet.

Even though it was a leap in your confidence, you settled on getting a tattoo. For the past few weeks, the nerves have been building up as you spent your free time researching tattoo shops and what a tattoo would even feel like.

The idea of having your skin permanently marked by something that could end up horrible to look at was more than a bit troubling. That's why you settled on something small and somewhere inconsequential. Sorry Grandpa, but you're going to have to be content out of the spotlight.

Calling the shop was the easy part. It was effortless to talk to the nice lady on the phone about your ideas and listen to her babble on about the latest news. But, now that you were sitting in the waiting room, anticipating the pain of the needles that were soon to be in your skin, you couldn't help but squirm in your seat.

You were quickly pulled out of your thoughts as a woman with tawny skin and bright, neon-pink hair came into the waiting room and called over another young woman to follow her. They walked into the back, or wherever they kept the tattoo rooms, and you noticed with a sigh the ease at which the young woman walked towards inevitable pain.

"Are you the 6 o'clock?" A familiar voice broke through your haze of thoughts. You vaguely placed it as the woman you spoke to on the phone when you booked you an appointment.

Scanning her over, you took in her friendly smile and ostentatious (and probably fake) jewelry, putting a face to the voice. "Yeah, that's me." You answered after a second.

She smiled brightly. She had an almost motherly look to her and a warm and comforting demeanour. Looking around at the peeling linoleum floor, the sticker-covered walls, and the various riff-raff who were inking memories and stories onto their skin, you had a passing thought that she was like the empress of the little tattoo parlour. Her beads and glued-on rhinestones would make a marvellous crown.

You had a quick discussion about price and confirmed what you were getting and then she led you down a short hallway and into a room. As you broke the threshold your ears were filled with 40s music and the soft, low sound of a man humming along. Your eyes drifted over to the source of the voice, who soon spun his stool around to reveal an alarmingly handsome face. Bright blue eyes met yours and your heart did a little somersault in your chest.

"Don't you worry, baby. This is Bucky, he'll take real good care of you." She patted your back and drifted back out of the room, her ebony skin disappearing down the hallway and out of view. As you stood awkwardly near the door, your gaze took in the rest of the room. It was dark and moody, and you figured that each artist must get to decorate their studio to their liking. The cart holding the ink, needles and other supplies stood next to one of those lay-down chairs that the person getting tattooed sits in. The man, Bucky, was already looking at you when you met his gaze again.

"Nervous, huh?" He chuckled lowly.

Your cheeks lit up in a hot blush as you were suddenly aware of how long you had been spacing out. "This is my first tattoo. Why? Was it that obvious?" You asked.

"Pretty obvious, yeah. S'okay. Why don't you sit down for me?" He grinned.

Ignoring the way his voice was like butter, you hopped up on the chair in the middle of the room. The leather was soft against your skin and you traced the tiny cracks in the fabric with your fingers, thinking about how many people had sat there before you. Rolling his stool over to the side of your chair, he grabbed a sketchbook from the cart next to you.

"So, what are you thinking of?" He asked casually as his eyes focused on you.

"I wanted to get an anchor for my grandpa." As you spoke, you got out your phone, pulling out the inspirational photos you had been endlessly looking over, tilting the screen so he could see. You watched as he scrutinized the photos, his brow furrowed in focus as if he was translating the pixels to ink in his mind.

After a second, he looked back up at you with a lazy grin. "Yeah, I can do that no problem."

He was already reaching over for his pens to start sketching the drawing onto transfer paper, and your eyes followed the careful movements, tracing the ink that covered his arms. There was barely an inch of uncovered skin.

The whole drawing took less than fifteen minutes, and the silence was comfortably filled with Bucky rambling about when he got his first tattoo. His low, slightly raspy voice covered you like a blanket, settling over you and calming your nerves. By the time he was finished with the sketch, you had already begun to warm up to him, making small talk that was somehow not awkward.

As he showed you the final version of the sketch, your nerves were calmed even more. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. You talked placement and sizing until the time finally came for the sketch to be transferred onto your skin.

"Alright, so.. on your thigh?" He said warmly.

"I read that it was one of the less painful areas." You said as you ran your fingers over your skin which was soon to be filled with ink. You had worn a skirt so that you didn't have to change or lose any modesty. The last thing you wanted was to flash your tattoo artist, especially now that you got one who was incredibly hot.

"Smart girl." He muttered in passing as he prepped the transfer paper.

You were sure it was just a casual expression, but you couldn't fight the way your cheeks flushed at the compliment. No sooner than you had that thought, Bucky had rolled his stool back over to the chair and had the transfer in his hand.

"Can I?" He asked expectantly.

You looked at him confused for a second before you caught up and inched your skirt up so he could transfer the tattoo onto your thigh.

"Right. Sorry." You watched the way he chuckled to himself as he pressed the sketch into your skin. His hands were warm even through the black latex gloves.

He started getting his needles and ink prepared and you fell back into easy conversation. "Why the anchor? Is your 'pops navy or something?" He asked curiously.

"He was, yeah." You said softly.

You didn't miss the way his hands, which were going through the motions of prepping the tattoo gun as if they had done so a million times before, stilled for just a second. His jaw ticked and he cleared his throat and resumed his preparations.

"Sorry for your loss. My family is army." He said quietly after a moment. You took the distraction of his past eagerly, wanting to think of something other than your Grandpa.

"Are you?" You asked carefully.

"I was, yeah. Now I do this." He said and gestured around the room. "You ready?"

Your awareness was suddenly brought back to the impending pain you were about to feel as your eyes locked on the tattoo gun hovering closer and closer to your skin. Your heart rate spiked as a pang of anxiety ran through your chest and your thoughts began to spiral. How long would it take? How much would it hurt? What if it got infected? As if he could sense your suddenly fearful thoughts, Bucky lowered the tattoo gun.

"Hey, it'll be fine. I've been doing this for years and you chose a really small design. It'll be over before you know it." He spoke reassuringly.

With a nod from you, he raised the tattoo gun, one hand on your thigh to steady himself, and made the first line. The pricking pain hit you instantly. It was sharp and stung like you were getting a vaccination or blood drawn. You always had a low pain tolerance, and don't know why that piece of knowledge decided to hide in your brain until now. If you knew it would have hurt this much, maybe you would have changed your mind. A whimper bubbled past your lips embarrassingly. Bucky's eyes darted up to yours, his brows furrowed with a little too much concern for someone you just met.

"Hey, hey, hey.. deep breath. You're okay. That's it…" He cooed soothingly.

You resisted the urge to hide your face in your hands and tried to mimic the way Bucky was breathing. Even though he was actively tattooing you, he kept his hand on your skin, watching your expression carefully. It was big enough to cover the entire width of your thigh. The latex of his glove suddenly felt far too thin. When he was satisfied you reached somewhat of a calmer state, he resumed his work, the needles pricking your skin once more.

"Alright, sweetheart, let's get this done." He muttered, almost to himself.

You closed your eyes to distract yourself, but it only made you more focused on the pain of the tattoo gun. But then the pain was paired with the calming touch of Bucky stroking the skin of your thigh with his steadying hand. Your eyes peeked open to the sight of him focusing, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. Well, that's certainly distracting. You were all too aware of the way your skirt was pushed up. Even though it was for the sake of the tattoo, it was beginning to feel far too hot. As if he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky's gaze snapped up to yours and you quickly looked away.

The silence was filled with the quiet buzzing of the tattoo gun and Bucky humming along to the music playing on the radio. You were doing okay. You were gritting your teeth and bearing through it, not wanting to embarrass yourself further in front of your stupidly attractive tattoo artist. But it was late and you were getting tired. The pain was steadily growing from a dull ache into an overwhelming sting. You didn't even realize you were whining until the needles were no longer pricking your skin and Bucky was putting the tattoo gun down.

"Shh, it's okay, princess. We can take a break, yeah?" He said gently.

His hands were on your thighs as he rubbed your skin comfortingly, and you couldn't help but want to whine for a different reason.

"How much longer?" You asked with a wavering voice. Bucky's eyes softened, and he glanced at the half-finished anchor on your thigh and back up to you.

"We're almost done. You ready to get going again?" He asked as he picked up the tattoo gun.

Not trusting your voice, you elected simply to nod. As the pain returned, your nails dug into the leather of the chair, and you wondered if that's where the cracks you saw earlier came from. You knew you were beginning to get shaky, and even though you read about it during your anxious preparation, it was still upsetting. You looked around the room, trying to take your mind off the literal needles that were stabbing into you hundreds of times per second. Maybe you could distract yourself from figuring out the darkly gorgeous man tattooing you.

He kept the lights of the room low, probably to keep people calm, and the posters on the walls were at least nice to look at. There was a pair of dog tags hanging off a lamp on the desk in the corner, and you chalked that up to his army past. There were some plants, but the only one still alive was the cactus on the windowsill. But, you couldn't preoccupy yourself for long. Every time you thought you were getting used to the pain, a new wave of discomfort would hit you, leaving you whimpering in the chair. Your breath was getting a little shallow, and your other leg started bouncing to release some pent-up energy.

Bucky's hand which was comfortingly rubbing the thigh that he was tattooing shot out and grabbed your other leg, his fingers gripping your skin so firmly, the sudden sensation distracted you enough that your squirming stilled.

"Fuck, you gotta hold still, dolly." He rasped. "How 'bout you tell me about your 'pops?"

His voice was strained and you bit your lip to stifle a whimper. Your skirt was pulled up enough that his hand on your non-tattooed leg was high enough to be considered intimate. At least, it certainly felt that way to you. He squeezed your thigh, focusing your attention back on him, before he put it back on the leg he was tattooing.

"Talk, princess. You're almost done." He commanded softly.

The pain was still at the forefront of your mind, but now it was fighting with the heat in your core that was slowly growing.

"Um.. he was a sailor. He.. his name was Henry." You began to recall fond memories of your Grandpa, and the pain of the tattoo slowly faded into a manageable ache.

"That's a good girl. Keep talking, sweetheart." He muttered quietly.

The praise made your breath hitch and the sound that fell from your lips wasn't from pain anymore. The only sign that he noticed your breathy whine was the little smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"And… all done." He announced.

The buzzing of the tattoo gun ceased and Bucky had already put it down, as if the tattoo never even happened. The only evidence of what you'd struggled through for the last hour was the perfectly executed anchor on your skin and the dull ache of your thigh. Bucky had already moved back over to you and was starting to clean and wrap your leg. His hands brushed the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to suck in a sharp breath, his eyes flickering over to you for a moment. There was that smirk again.

"That's it?" You asked breathlessly.

"That's it. You did so well, princess." He said as he finished wrapping your thigh. After putting his supplies back onto the cart, he pulled your skirt back down almost protectively, his hands lingering a little too long to be professional.

"Here. You even get a lollipop for being such a good girl." He grinned as helped you off the chair, his hand brushing yours as he handed you the candy.

He said the praise so casually, but it still sent your head spinning and your cheeks burning with a dusting of pink.

"Thanks…" You mumbled.

"You can pay at the front. Call us if you have any questions. Be safe, princess." He said as his eyes drifted down to your thigh.

Your heart sank as you kicked yourself for thinking there was even a sliver of attraction that he felt for you. Obviously, the hot tattoo artist must get girls fawning over him all the time, you weren't anything special. Biting back a frown, you nodded and thanked him one more time before heading back up to the front of the store to pay. The friendly babbling of the same dark-skinned woman who had taken you to Bucky's tattoo room went in one ear and out the other. Your head was way too messy to pay attention.

After thanking the staff one more time, you grabbed your umbrella and coat and headed back out into the rainy Brooklyn streets. As you walked back to your apartment, your thoughts endlessly drifting back to Bucky, you pulled the lollipop out of where you'd put it in your pocket. If you couldn't have him, at least you had candy. Just as you were about to mindlessly crumple up the wrapper, you noticed something scrawled in pen on the plastic. It was an address and a phone number.

'Dinner this weekend. Don't be shy, doll.' It read.

You stopped in your tracks in the middle of the sidewalk, ignoring the dirty looks of the pedestrians who nearly walked into you, smiling like an idiot. It wasn't even written as a question and you could hear his low, slightly raspy voice saying the words in your head. The ache in your thigh, the ache in your heart, and even the now permanent marking on your body were all worth it. You had the passing thought that maybe your Grandpa was setting you up from wherever he was.

"Thanks, Grandpa.." You whispered to yourself and walked home with a spring in your step.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky fic #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #oneshot #tattoo artist!bucky

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itsagrimm · 1 year

Text

Niche König headcanons

SFW

He hates going shopping but he loves a good bargain for groceries. You will find him planning a weeks meals, cutting out coupons and doing serious research by flickering through advertisements & flyers at the kitchen table. He is also a hardcore Aldi and Lidl fan.

The only time König has cursed outside a battle situation was when Soap tried to convince him toast is bread in the mess hall.

König knows the rules for Fußball but does not particularly care much about it. However, he does care about how it's called. (It's Fußball so football, Not Soccer!)

At home his go to anti-anxiety-measures are going on hikes and visiting the climbing gym. Also, he owns one of those colourful outdoor raincoats because he got those for the hikes but definitely wears them for any other too many occasions. It tends to look slight off so he looks like a lost tourist with it.

As a kid he went to the library a lot to get new fantasy books. As an adult he does not have the time for that anymore but he still likes fantasy stories. So he listens to audiobooks bc the gear for that fits better into his duffle bag than a bunch of books.

Has opinions about Vienna. If you ask him about it, it will trigger a surprising tirade about the austrian capital and some numbered quartiers. However if someone says something negative about Vienna he will firmly defend Vienna as the bestest of best cities ever.

Contrary to popular believe he does not think too much about his height. He grew up in Austria and surrounded by fairly tall people. Also while he is exceptionally tall, he is not much taller than most people he interacts with on a regular. But he does struggle with his strength and is insecure about the space he takes up in a social sense.

Massiv metal fan. Yes, he had longer hair as a teen for head banging purposes in his bedroom, plastered with posters from his fav bands.

NSFW

König kind of does not know how to use his body outside of the familiar battle movements. It's awkward at the beginning. He is like a deer caught in headlights. And he needs instructions, explanations and feedback for what he does, otherwise he feels kind of lost.

Is not very experienced. Obviously.

Once he does learn how you like it, he draws immense joy and pride from seeing you squirming and moaning. It fills his heart with a calm he rarely experiences. He did this. He made you cum. And he has a hard time enjoying himself and cuming before he took care of you at least once. He also might evolve into a pleasure dom one day.

That man is curious but also shy. Get ready for online shopping a bunch of sex toys to try out.

Speaking of online orders. He needs the extra large condoms without latex, which he orders as well bc he would have a hard time dealing with the cashier at the check out. The poor man does not only have anxiety but also a latex allergy and a huge dick.

The hood stays on.

König gives off bi vibes but is confused by it. It will take him a long time to figure that out.

He is kinky but does not know how to phrase a lot of it or ask for certain things. Watching porn together to show what he likes is one of the ways he tries to articulate his desires without actually saying it.

Absolutely into getting pegged. Absolutely not into giving someone anal. He does not want to hurt his partner.

Likes his partner on top of him. That way he can touch them better and caress their skin. Also really into holding onto their hips. He likes how his hands look like there.

Into getting scratched, bitten and having his hair pulled. After overcoming that surprising realisation he might discover that he very much likes doing that to his partner as well.

Not down for one nightstands. The whole sex and emotions situation is hard for him. So, having one set partner gives him a feeling of stability. And while from the outside that might come off as a bit traditional he is not opposed to opening up the relationship once he worked through his own bisexuality.

#i am having too much fun torturing this man #könig listens to rammstein 'ohne dich' is peak romance for him #call of duty mw2 #call of duty modern warfare ii #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x reader #könig call of duty #könig smut

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13thdoodle · 7 months

Text

[ ECTOBERHAUNT 2023 BANNER ]

I'm doing the banner for this year's @ectoberhaunt event~ The theme is Science vs Magic

I had so much fun making this~ Sam get the fantasy AU fit while Tucker gets Cyber/futuristic style

Sketch Progress

I like the idea of Sam being a druid bc nature connection tm

And Tucker would vibe very well with fancy future stuffs. i was gonna draw him with a bigger puffer but I couldn't figured it out. I like the one we got here too so yay

Okay so I was a bit pressed on time while working on this so I couldn't do as much research and references as I should.

On Sam's part, the somewhat floating book was inspired on how genshin impact's catalysts have their books/weapon just floats and it looks fancy n magical n Sam deserve that honestly

Her glowing tattoo are highkey inspired of this beautiful Sam with tattoos art by @the-stove-is-on-fire Mine is nowhere close to that but that's my main inspiration for this

I was gonna give Tucker his usual orange sweater but I noticed a lot of neon or cyberpunk outfit relies on dark backdrop to pop.

And since the background color is gonna be bright yellow, I gotta put the dark color somewhere else. And his sweater would be the perfect spot to balance out all the brightness with a bit of darkness

And it matches with Sam too so it works out great uwu

The magic circles on their back were mostly there to balance out the composition bc it looks too empty as is, gotta spice it up a lil bit uwu But a direct halo would look.. too out there? I mean I can but like.. Sam is magic/fantasy based, why not lean on that n go for magic circles :D

Tucker's random bits on the background took the most out of me bc like.. its hard qwq I literally try to look up aesthetic bg to figure out how to work with his?? Eventually I just settle on less is more and added shadow under the bits to make em pops out against the orange

source

And for the color choices, I wanted the two of them to have purple, yellow, and green on them. The green color on to symbolize Danny bc I'm an Everlasting Trio shipper lmao

I wanted Sam to have some yellow and green on her magic, which kinda.. got covered with the whites honestly. But the greens stays with the vines so we'll go with that Tucker was harder to figure out, so I settle with him with blue and greens instead of purple qwq

In the end, only the green end up staying lmao It ends up unifying both sides so hell yea it all works out lol

#13thcat art #danny phantom #ectoberhaunt2023 #sam manson #tucker foley

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neoarchipelago · 1 year

Note

For a fantasy one-shot what if the 141 gets stranded on a mission gone wrong, and they have to find a safe house cuz someone (not sure who) is badly injured and needs medical attention.

After a bit of wandering around a forest, they find an "abandoned" house. Unfortunatly for them, it's the house of witch!reader who dosent take kindly to intruders...

After a bit of calming down and convincing, Witch!reader heals whoever is hurt and maybe offers some assistance as the enemy has been draining resources from the forest?

Feel free to change the ending, I just like forest witchy vibes...😅

YES YES YES WITCH!READER

(totally love the way marvel pictures 'magic' so I kinda used that, not sure it's still... Forest witchy tho.. sorry..)

Head canons Witch!Reader X squad 141

Your little house in the forest was perfect. The wood and Vine, the flowers and greenery making it disappear into the landscape. Of course you'd still often vanished to the city, especially for some things the forest couldn't entirely provide.

You were walking back home, the greenery of the forest surrounding you, the peaceful silence around. Unfortunately, for the past weeks, some men were troubling your peace.

The fresh smell of grass and leaves were now tainted with blood and drugs that the pathetic things used to escape the real world. If only they knew how to truly look at the world.

You frowned, the thoughts only souring your mood. That and the newly smell of blood. It could have been alright... If it wasn't straight on the path to your house. You stopped for a second, thinking about the situation. Did they wander too close?

You sighed before heading straight to your house. The smell of blood intensified, now droplets visible here and there. The droplets grew to bigger little drops and to tiny puddles.

You grew weary, your steps falling deeper into a soft silent path. Once you finally had the house in sight, you decided to go straight in. Anger rushed over you, the audacity of theses humans getting on your nerves.

The smell of blood hit you, as soon as you swung the door open. The ticking of guns pointing at you made you frown.

"hands up.." a man with a fishing hat said.

You turned to them, looking unfazed.

"you barge into my house. And you dare to threaten me?" You questioned.

"you..your house?" A Scottish accent rang.

"yes. My house." You pointed now looking at the man in a mohawk, sitting on the floor next to your couch. It made you notice the man laying on said couch, blood over his clothes and... Your couch. You sighed.

"I'm not going to repeat myself, hands u-"

You didn't let him finish, two fingers pointing to the guns before swiftly swingy them towards the ceiling, the metal things following the movement before sticking themselves on the ceiling. The silence was loud. You wanted to laugh. You rolled your eyes, closing your door behind you before walking to the kitchen table to drop your bag.

"that was so co-'

"sergeant!"

You smirked, the poor Scottish land being scolded by the masked man.

"what are you?" The hat man said again.

"again. Rude. Who are you even?" You asked, crossing your arms.

The men looked at each other. They didn't look like the other idiots that tried to roam your forest. They were... Different. Your gaze fell on the wounded man again.

"what happened?" You asked, changing the subject, as you nodded towards the couch.

"i... I took a bullet... I'm... Gaz... By the way..."

You smiled. Poor boy. His shaky voice only betrayed his fear and pain. You sighed again, frowning. You shouldn't mingle. Not at all. But the face of the man, wincing in pain, and the one of his teammates, worriedly looking at him, tugged on some string you didn't knew your heart had. Not for humans anyway.

You took a step forwards, the hat man immediately, stepping in front of you.

"calm down... If I wanted to hurt all of you, i would have done so already." You said, eyes glancing to the guns still stuck on the ceiling.

After long seconds of pondering and glances towards the others he stepped aside. You walked to the couch, kneeling next to mohawk.

"I'm... I'm soap."

Well... Next to soap then. You nodded.

"I'm Y/N." You answered..

You turned your attention to the wound.

"I'm going to remove your vest and your shirt, alright? I need to see where you got hit." You explained.

He nodded weakly. Your hands rose, snapping your fingers as the two vanished.

"How the fuck do you do that?!" Soap yelled.

"I'm. A witch. Please don't tell in my ear like that..." You answered with a frown.

You looked at the man's stomach, the bullet seemed to be on his left side, underneath his rib cage, above his hip. The bullet still inside.

"i need to remove the bullet before healing you. I'm... I'm sorry, it might be painful for a few seconds..." You said.

"it's ok... I'll... Die... If you don't..."

Again. Another pull on a heartstring.

"I'm not going to let you die." You assured with a soft smile. "Soap? Right?" He nodded "can you tell me what happened and why you're in my house? The two big guys over there are much less friendly..." You grumbled.

He smirked. You turned to the wound hand hovering above it.

"well... We're military... Special task force 141. We're on a mission. We're here to localize and intercept a group of drug dealers who use the forest for-"

Light intertwined in your fingers, blue, wavy glowing smoke, the bullet inside the body shining the same light before you focused to attract it towards you to pull it out. You'd have to work fast after, but it'll get out. The man under groaned, face torn in pain.

"i know... Sorry..I'm gonna pull it out...i just need to localize it... And...PULL." You mimicked your words, the bullet flying out into your hand, coating your fingers in blood. You sighed, dropping it to the floor, now putting both hands over the wound, applying a bit of pressure to stop the bleeding before another glow of light shinned from your hands. It spread to the man's skin underneath your palm. Veiny threads expanding from under your hands, shining blue.

Soap was gasping. You smirked again, trying to remain focused on your spell.

"go on soap. I'm listening." You reminded.

He shook his head, probably trying to focus on his story.

"hum.. yeah.. the dealers... Hum... We got ambushed... He got shot... And... We found your house here... Thought it was abandoned ...hum" the man looked mesmerized as you worked.

"yeah... Those idiots keep roaming around... They're getting on my nerves. I'm glad someone's taking care of it, didn't really want to mingle with human affairs." You explained.

It took a good five minutes for the muscles and flesh underneath your energy to grow back together. You'd have to rest for a few hours. When finally the skin had melted back together smoothly did you let the glow fade.

Removing your hand, she shadow of the bullet hole was glowing, veiny threads still expanding to the man's side and stomach.

"give it a few minutes. It'll go away." You assured before standing up slowly.

"thank you..." He let out in a shaky breath.

"don't worry. Just rest. I'll prepare some soup." You said with a soft smile before turning towards the kitchen.

"are... We the soup?" Soap asked.

You frowned, confused.

"why the fuck would I eat you? What's wrong with you?" You asked.

"your hands glow!" You heard.

---

You made your soup and everyone ate. Eventually you had let them stay the night, resting. They were safe there. You decided to help them just a tiny bit, after all, they were trying to get rid of the same enemies as you.

They remained two days, making sure their friends was up for another round. You had worked wonders, gaz being able to run around and jump quite fast.

In that time, soap just kept asking you to make things fly, or glow. You had pointed out you could do so much more, that this wasn't just some marvel movie. He seemed to ignore it.

The hat man.. price as he had introduced himself, felt more comfortable around you. The masked man however still seemed to eye you from the corner. It was time to leave when you looked at them in front of your house. You leant against the door frame.

"thank you, for everything. We'll keep your secret." Price said with a soft smile.

"something tells me you will. You're trust worthy. Be careful out there. You're four. They're fifty at least." You answered in a serious tone. "Soap." You called.

The man skipped his way towards you. You took his hand, opening it, palm up. You dropped a thick red thread, braided, a little bell at the end.

"in case of emergency. Ring."

---

They didn't ring. And weeks... Months passed. You questioned yourself if they had died. But on a rainy afternoon. You heard it. In the distance, like an echo in a dream. The bell ringing.

You didn't hesitate and immediately closed your eyes, focusing on the little bell, before simply vanishing.

---

It had turned out, it was no emergency. You had appeared in a room, the squad looking at you with wide eyes, sprawled on a couch or chairs around the cosy room. You crossed your arms.

"what in Merlin's beard is the emergency?"

"i... Just wanted to see if I'd work..."

---

It turned out to be a recurrent event. One of the boys would ring the bell, you'd get there, and they simply wanted to invite you to watch a movie.

Turns out, every Friday night, the bell rang. Poker nights, movie nights, game nights or simply to spend the evening with them. You'd often find yourself falling asleep there, unable to get back home from the tiredness or the alcohol.

Gaz was extremely thankful. He had offered you flowers and beautiful Notebooks. He had noticed your collection of notebooks laying around in your house, all scribbled. You had slightly blushed, reminding him that he didn't owe you anything at all. He didn't know it but you had crystalized the flowers, keeping them over the fireplace.

Soap was extremely happy to help you. Sometimes you'd need to make potions, you'd bring your stuff over and soap would chop things or stir. You'd often had to slap his hand away from the small cauldron to avoid him tasting anything. Of course you didn't brew anything remotely dangerous around them, but the last time you had turned your back, soap had grew a much longer pink mohawk and ran around jumping for hours.

You had wrote down in one of your new notebooks under Gaz's happy gaze, that removing three ingredients to a Calming infusion turned out to create a powerful energy potion.

Price loved it when you'd produce a little flame at the end of your finger to light up his cigar. "thank you my dear.". You had enchanted his phone, he could call you now avoiding using the bell and keeping it for emergencies only. You added in the map app, tracking points of the team, just in case. He was extremely thankful, his dad worries slightly relieved.

Ghost enjoyed watching you practice. He wouldn't say it out loud even under torture, but he was always mesmerized by the soft blue light that rose from your hands or body everytime you used your magic. He had noticed how it would naturally start flowing around you, in thin smoky waves, when you were lost in your notes or reading. He'd let his gloved hand wash through it, the sensation odd yet so familiar. You had only noticed when he had grazed your hair by mistake. Eyes falling into his you had blushed, realizing your situation. He had looked away, straightening himself. You had decided to gift him a little terrarium. On the inside, in a small porcelain miniature house, remained a little light. It took you days... Weeks even. And you'd never tell him, but you had managed to create a small artificial being, a little cute humanoid blue glowing thing. It was you. All you. Your magic and energy. It enjoyed the terrarium, and you were glad, you had wanted to gift it to him directly like this. In the end... You could feel it... The pain and sadness coming from his soul. And you could feel how your magic seemed to soothe him.

Soap calls you witchy

Gaz calls you goddess/ angel/ sweetheart

Price calls you little minx/little witch.

Ghost calls you by your name, but you had heard him once, as you were half asleep, call you 'little light'.

Little bonus:

Konig would eye you like a child in wonder. After the first fear, he would just stare. He liked seeing you garden and tend to plants, usually because nature seemed to react around you and he finds it beautiful. Flowers growing around you or grass getting greener. Butterflies or mouses, bunnies and birds often visiting when you were simply reading outside in the shade of a tree, and he always found it adorable.

Calls you Göttin.

(not sure about the translation my bad... Goddess?)

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lykegenia · 7 months

Text

So something has been bugging me for a while now about A and N’s backstories, and while I know not everyone will be as pedantic as me, as someone who loves history and has done a lot of writing, I feel that if you’re going to write a story about vampires and give them a specific time and date of origin, then there should be a certain level of research that goes into making that background authentic. I'm not saying that Mishka didn’t do any research. It just seems that in order to keep the vibe of a happy, mellow fantasy some of the less savoury aspects of A and N’s upbringings have been left out, and it's a shame. To be honest, it feels a bit disingenuous, and it feels like an opportunity got wasted.

Let me explain (long post got long, it's 2am)

Let's take A first, since the problem is simpler here.

A is the child of a Norman lord and an Anglo-Saxon noblewoman, born in the first generation after the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. A says that these were turbulent times but that their parents had a happy marriage. Which. While I’m sure a lot of unions in that time period made the best of it, I can’t help but feel this description strips away a lot of the context of what was going on at that point in history - and removes some of the complexity about A’s thoughts on love and relationships.

Basically, after he took control of the throne, William the Conqueror stripped many Anglo-Saxon lords of their lands and titles so he could give them to his Norman buddies instead - with the added bonus that it left the Anglo-Saxons without the means to raise armies against him. The sisters, daughters, and widows of the dispossessed Anglo-Saxons were then forced to marry these new Norman lords to legitimise their power, not infrequently after all of their male relatives had been slaughtered. It’s not as if Anglo-Saxon women weren’t used to being used as political chess pieces, but the years after the conquest were brutal. It’s why William had to build so many castles. The point that I’m trying to make is that even if A’s mother was content enough in her daily life, due to the power imbalance between her and her husband, it's very likely she had little choice in the matter. She may have seen a lot of her family killed for political reasons, with the knowledge that – in an age where women had very little protection outside of their paternal household – she might be next if she made too much of a fuss.

It would be fascinating to see what effect that tension has had on A 900 years later, or even to get an acknowledgement of how much times have changed, but we don’t. We don't see how their early years affected them, how they view relationships formed naturally instead of via political contracts. And I really, really wish we did. There is so much potential there.

But A is not the one keeping me up past 2 in the morning. It’s N, and the utter detachment their backstory seems to have from the period in history they lived in as a human. And it all stems from the fact that they came from the English nobility in the late 1600s.

See, the bulk of the problem is that English inheritance law at the time heavily favoured primogeniture, where a man’s wealth would go to his first-born son. Some dispensation was made for widows and other children, but the estates, assets, and most of the money had a very clear destination.

For one thing, this makes it kinda weird that N’s stepfather would have needed an heir before he could inherit, because except in extreme circumstances everything would have gone to him anyway. Don't get me wrong, this isn't the worst part of the problem, it’s just annoying when there are more plausible reasons for him marrying a woman already pregnant with another man’s child (old family friend wanting to save her from disgrace, needed the dowry to pay off gambling debts, there was a longstanding betrothal between them that would have been tricky to get out of, etc.).

No, the bigger problem with N’s backstory vs primogeniture is firstly that at the time the English aristocracy was racist af (still is tbh) and given his pretty obvious mixed-race heritage, no court would have agreed that Nate was a legitimate son (this is for a very special reason that we will be coming back to). I say Nate specifically here because primogeniture requires the eldest legitimate son. Nat wouldn’t have inherited at all, as women in that period passed from the guardianship of their father (or other male blood relative) into that of their husband after marriage, and only gained any kind of independence with widowhood. If N had been an only child, maybe they would have been treated as a special case, but unfortunately Milton exists: the eldest legitimate son who by law will inherit everything.

Now here’s the thing. Your average aristocrat in the 17th century is very obsessed with lineage and keeping the family line unbroken. He would not, therefore, send his legitimate heir to sea to be shot at or drowned before he can carry on the family name – that joy instead goes to any other sons who need their own profession, because again, they will get very little. Nat would have had a dowry, but would never have been expected to make her own living, so I'm going to focuson Nate for this next bit.

In Book 3, if you unlock his tragic backstory Nate tells you he joined the Royal Navy after Milton went missing so that he could go look for him. And, well. This is where his backstory as Mishka tells it completely falls apart. For two reasons:

1. Even in the modern day, you can’t ‘just’ join the Navy, and you certainly can’t just jump straight to being a lieutenant – it takes years of training and after a certain age they won’t take you because they won’t be able to mould you easily enough into a useful tool. For most of the Navy's history, the process was even more involved. It wasn’t an office job you could just rock up to and then quit if you felt like it, it was a lifetime commitment. Boys destined to be officers would be sent to sea as early as 12 to learn shipboard life, starting at the bottom and moving up the ranks. These were gained by passing exams and by purchasing a commission – which is why you generally had to come from wealth to be an officer at all. Once you get to lieutenant you're responsible for a lot of people, and might be tasked with commanding any captured ships alongside the daily running of yours - it was not an easy job.

2. Even as a lieutenant (one rank below Captain, with varying levels of seniority) it’s not like you can just go where you want. In the 1720s British colonies already existed in India, the Caribbean, and up the entire eastern seaboard of North America and into Canada, and the Navy was tasked with protecting merchant shipping along these seaways (and one trade in particular that we’ll be getting to, don’t worry). Nate could have ended up practically anywhere in the burgeoning empire. He would not have been able to choose whom he served under, and would not have been able to demand his superior officer go against orders from the admirality to chase down one lone vessel because he thinks another one of the admirals might be a bit dodgy. It could not have happened.

Besides these impracticalities, there’s a far easier way for the child of a wealthy man to get to a specific point on the far side of the globe to look for their lost sibling, which is the route I assume Nat took sine she couldn’t have joined the Navy (yes she could have snuck in but she’s specifically in a dress in the B2 mirror scene so). All they'd have to do would be to charter a ship and tell the captain where to go, which is the plot of Treasure Island. It's quicker, less fuss, with less chance of things going wrong. It's even possible in the age of mercantilism that the Sewells had some merchant vessels among their holdings that could be diverted for the task. Why go through the hassle of joining the Navy and potentially ending up on the wrong side of the world when you can just hire a ship directly?

If Nate does have to be in the Navy (and let’s face it, it’s worth it just for the uniform) then it's far more plausible is that, as the illegitimate son who would not inherit because of racism etc, he got sent to the Navy as a boy and rose through the ranks to become a lieutenant. When he got news of Milton’s disappearance not far from where he was stationed, he begged his captain to go investigate in case whatever happened turned out to be the symptom of a bigger problem. Like pirates.

I like this version better not just because it makes more sense, or because it keeps Nate’s situation re: inheritance closer to Nat’s and therefore makes their stories more equal, but also because it adds a delicious amount of guilt to Nate’s need to find his brother. We know his entire crew died looking for answers, because he was selfish – that’s roughly 100-400 lives lost because of him, and we know that sort of thing eats at him.

So that's one side of the story, but if Milton wasn’t in the Navy, what was he doing on the other side of the Atlantic in the first place? Well, this is where we come to the biggest elephant in the room regarding N’s backstory as a member of the 17th century English aristocracy and potentially as a naval officer: the Atlantic Slave Trade. If you are wealthy in 17th century Britain it's more than likely that your wealth comes either from the trade itself, or from the products made with the labour of enslaved people. If you are wealthy, you want to protect your assets from attack by pirates or foreign powers so you don't become less wealthy, and that is what the Navy is for.

Regardless of N’s own views on slavery at the time – and any subsequent changes in opinion – it’s likely their family owned or had shares in slave plantations in the Americas. As distasteful as it is, it makes far more sense that Milton was on a trip to check the family’s holdings when his ship - specifically a merchant vessel - went missing. From a pirate perspective, a merchant ship would make a much better target than a Navy vessel, being slower, more likely to have valuable cargo, and less likely to have marines or a well-trained broadside.

It's not surprising that Mishka left out the subject of the slave trade given her tendency to skirt around darker subjects and general blindspot for racial politics, but it is nuance that, if it was there, would create a more grounded and coherent backstory for N that doesn’t have quite so many holes. Like with A being the child of an invader and his war bride, we could get some deeper thoughts from N about their place in the world - How do they feel to have grown up so privileged when others who looked like them were regarded as literal property? How did they feel being part of the system that made it happen? Did it inform their compassionate nature? Is it still a source of guilt or someithng they've tried to make up for?

I'm not sure where I was going with all of this. It's late, my sleep pattern is fucked. The tl;dr is that giving the vampires' backstories historical context would make them feel more multifaceted and would give opportunities for character growth that are instead missed because of a desire for a more sanitized version of the past.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #a du mortain #adam du mortain #ava du mortain #n sewell #nate sewell #nat sewell #it's annoying because it’s such a small tweak in the grand scheme of things #If she didn’t want unfortunate implications she could have made N from a century later when the navy was actively trying to stop slavery #A could have been from a 50 years earlier to tie his whole family’s demise into the subjugation of the english after the battle of hastings #or a century later when the two courts had mostly integrated #mishka made choices #they deserve to be given more substance than mere aesthetics #you can tell it’s late I’m using long words

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izalemon · 2 years

Text

Yandere m!Jock x f!Reader | SMUT/NSFW/⚠️18+

Lucky Charm

Warnings: non-con/dub-con, possessiveness, obsessiveness, abusive relationship(no hitting), slight gore(not on reader), alcohol, oral sex, degradation, praise, mirror sex, fingering, forced relationship, manipulation, blackmail, slight homophobia(f-slur is used once), public sex,

Summary: from the outside all you seem to be is the quarterback’s sweet, supportive girlfriend, but anyone who took a closer look could see otherwise. unfortunately for you, anybody who notices would rather keep it to themselves than help you in favor of saving their own skin, just what you get for getting the attention of the most influential player on the team.

🔞NO MINOR ZONE🔞

Author’s note: this work was partially inspired by this one by yandermis, and by one other that I, unfortunately, cannot find. Also, AAAHHH! DON’T DO THIS! This is one of the most realistic non-cons I’ve done yet! If you find yourself in a situation even REMOTELY similar to this one please seek help! There are people out there who can help you! Remember loves❤️, the only good sex is consensual sex. There is a difference between fantasy and reality, it is okay to fantasize about non-con but actually experiencing it is straight up RAPE. Non-con is just a nicer way to say rape on Tumblr. Stay save loves❤️ ALSO NO PICTURES ABOVE BELONG TO ME!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The crowed roared as your boyfriend’s team scored another point. The players cheered with them, celebrating.

Under any normal circumstances you would be cheering along with them. But no, all you could do was watch in anticipation, anxiety coursing through your veins.

Despite the small victory, the scores were still close, making you nervous.

Usually you wouldn’t care who won. You’ve never been a big sports fan in the first place, but when you met your boyfriend everything changed.

When the two of you had first met he teased you often, taking things from you and holding them high above your head to the point that even if you were standing on your toes you couldn’t reach it. He’d tell you that the only way he would return it is if you kissed him on the cheek. Seeing no other option and already being late to where you had to go, you did it, and then scurried off.

This was just one of the many inappropriate things he did.

When walking by you in the halls with his friend group he would grab your ass, making you jump. He would drape his arm around you for no other reason than, “wanting to be close to his girl” as he called it.

The two of you weren’t even dating by this time, not to mention you had made it blatantly obvious that you were not interested. Sure he was attractive, hot even, but you personally just did not vibe with who he was.

The day he decided that the two of you were dating was the day when he caught you off guard and alone. He pushed you up against the wall and kissed you deeply. You tried to wiggle out of his grasp but the man was BUILT and refused to let you go.

Afterwards, when you attempted to tell someone about this, he stopped you before you could even get a word out. He pulled you to the side in an undisclosed area and gave you one of the most terrifying looks you’ve ever seen in a man.

“You’re mine. Mine, y’hear? You try and leave me and there will be consequences.” He told you.

When you challenged him and asked what kind of consequences there would be, he showed you what he had on you.

How did he even find out about that? Nobody knew about that, how could he have found out?!

He threatened to tell everyone if you tried to leave him, and with that little bit of blackmail…you were his.

Ever since then he referred to you as his “lucky charm.”

The first time he called you this, it was just a few minutes before his first game of the season. He lead you back to the empty sports locker rooms where he laid you down on one of the benches and went down on you.

It was the first time anyone had given you oral like that. He sucked gently on your clit and used his fingers to play with your opening. You couldn’t help the cries that left your lips as he mercilessly toyed with you.

He worked you through your orgasm swiftly and left you there a blushing, sweaty mess.

Before he left, he told you to “Pray I win princess because of I don’t, I won’t be as forgiving.”

And that was the start of your little routine as his lucky charm. He did this before every game as if it would grant him good fortune. You learned quickly that he expected you to meet him in the lockers ten minutes before his game where he would eat you out as a ‘warmup’ for what was to come later.

After his games he would always fuck you. The first time he did, you were so scared. You were a mess and you couldn’t stop yourself from shaking even when he was barley touching you. Your heart was pounding in your ears and he noticed this. Thankfully he had won that first game and was more gentle than he would have been if he hadn’t.

In fact, he was very gentle, took you back to his place and everything. He wouldn’t admit it but he wanted you to feel good too, he took things slowly for your first time. Whispering praises in your ear as he slowly thrusted his hips against yours

“You’re doing so well. Just a little longer baby. Just keep whining for me. Ah~ you make me feel so good. You’re taking me so well princess. Ugh…yes, just like that. Oh…oh don’t move, I…I’m…Ah~” and as much as you begged him through teary eyes not to, he finished deep inside of you.

Ever since then, after every game he would do the same. You prayed he would win them each time, because if he did, you learned he was much more gentle than if he didn’t. If he won he was very gentle, granted still rough, but it was definitely better than if he lost a game.

And god help you if he lost.

He would be pissed. He was a very competitive man and would march over to you and not let you leave his side for the rest of the night. Of course he was always like that, but his grip around your waist or on your wrists was far harsher than usual.

The thing is, if he won a game he would wait till the two of you got back to his place before he had his way with you. He’d drive you there and use one of his hands to play and stimulate you so that you’d be ready as soon as the two of you got back.

But when he lost the two of you wouldn’t even be out of the parking lot before he was pounding into you from behind. He wouldn’t even prepare you, he’s just slam you down, face first into the back seat of his car, pull down your pants or lift your skirt and just go to town.

In those moments, you were thankful for his ‘warmups’ he insisted on carrying out before every game.

He was far crueler too, instead of his usual praises he would degrade you as if you were a common whore.

“Yeah, you like that slut?! Fuck! You’re so fucking tight! I bet you secretly like this don’t you?! Ugh-fucking whore. Pretending like you don’t want this just so I’ll fuck you harder. Ugh! Are you really that much of a slut for my dick?! Heh…f…fucking pathetic-Ah! Shit!” He would talk nonstop throughout the round up until the moment he came where his voice would begin to tremble and he’d go completely silent. All while you’d be practically screaming at the top of your lungs.

You’d always end up a sobbing mess from the emotional turmoil, in which case he would be sure to cuddle you until your crying stopped and would drive the two of you back to his place before fucking you more gently this time. His twisted way of an ‘apology.’

You were either his reward for winning, or a way for him to let off steam.

There was really no in between when it came to him. He’d either fuck you dumb and degrade you, or make love to you, rather roughly but still sweetly, and praise you.

However, tonight was different, because tonight, some common drunk didn’t quite understand who exactly you belonged to.

~~~

You sighed in relief as the game ended, his team being three points ahead. A very close call.

His team cheered and all got together with their friends and significant others.

Your boyfriend ran up to you and kissed you deeply in celebration. You had learned over the past few months of being his little lucky charm that he expected you to kiss back, and you did.

He wrapped his arm around you possessively and took you with him to converse with his friends.

You stayed silent throughout the whole conversation, only giving the awkward smile here or there. You missed your own friends, but he isolated you from them. He couldn’t handle the idea of you hanging out, or even talking with, other people other than him. And if you did hang out with someone it had better be while he was there to make sure they didn’t try anything.

He didn’t care if they were male or female, in his eyes, everyone was a threat, which was part of the reason why he would always be touching you in some way. No matter where the two of you were or who you were with, he’d always have his arm slung around your shoulders or waist, or simply holding your hand was enough for him, so long as it was clear to everyone one that you were his.

As you stood obediently by his side, you got his attention to let him know you were going to use the restroom.

“Be quick about it.” He ordered, before kissing the top of your hair and reluctantly letting you go.

You made your way to the public bathroom building and saw a couple making out on the side of it. You paid them no mind, just ignoring them and making your way inside of the dirty building. Once you were finished you began making your way back and noticed the girl from earlier was alone.

She looked pissed and seemed to be angrily tapping away at her phone, most likely texting someone. Complaining to her friend perhaps?

You wondered how badly the dude must have screwed up to go from making out with the girl to have her venting about him in under five minutes. But you didn’t have time to come up with theories before your path was blocked by the same guy.

“Um…hello.” You awkwardly greeted.

“Hey babes, what’s a pretty thing like you doing over here?” He was drunk, really drunk.

“Um…just minding my business.” You stated bluntly trying to walk around him, be blocked your path again “Excuse me.” You said whilst attempting to get around him. He kept on getting in your way.

“Oh c’mon baby, I don’t bite. Listen, my girl was being a bitch and I’m lonely.” He whined.

This guy didn’t seem dangerous to you, just desperate. The only thing you were afraid of was his alcohol levels which could make him more violent than usual. You did recognize him. He’s been at the games before and he seemed like a pretty decent dude, that still didn’t excuse this behavior though.

“Sorry, I have to get back to my boyfriend, he’s waiting for me.” You told him, managing to slip by and begin walking back to the field.

You were suddenly stopped when your wrist was harshly grabbed. “Boyfriend? Aw, don’t tease me like that bunny.”

“Let go of me!” You firmly warned, pulling your wrist back.

He just rolled his eyes and threw your wrist back at you. “Whatever, fuckin’ bitch.” He uttered, before taking another sip from the beer in his hand.

“What’s going on here?” A familiar voice said from behind you.

You turned around and saw your boyfriend standing over the two of you.

“Nothing.” You told him before trying to walk off. He just caught you in his arms and spun you so your back was against his chest while he held you close.

“No, no obviously something is going on. Who the fuck is this guy?”

“Listen man, I didn’t mean no harm. My girl was being a bitch and I just wanted to see if yours could give a guy the time of day.” The man explained. He seemed bored, as if he hadn’t’ve just tried to get with the girl of the most temperamental man you have ever met.

“So what you’re saying is is that you tried to fuck my girlfriend?” He asked, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Heh, why you offering?” The rando jokingly asked.

You were suddenly let go of and witnessed your boyfriend begin to beat the ever living shit out of this guy. It was a secluded area, dark and there wasn’t anyone around, otherwise he probably would have waited to knock the guy out.

All you could do was watch. You were far to frightened to stop him. Your hands were shaking and your knees felt weak. Once word hand gotten out that the two of you were together, nobody tried to mess with you. This was the first time a guy flirted with you since your boyfriend entered your life and you were terrified of what he’d do to you.

Would he get angry? Blame you? Finally give into his anger and hit you? He’d never done it before but you felt like he was close to it sometimes.

You worried if he was too delusional to think properly, to see how this wasn’t your fault.

Once he had finished you didn’t dare look at the bloodied body. Was he dead? Knocked out? Still conscious and feeling everything your boyfriend had inflicted on him?

You didn’t have time to find out before your boyfriend violently tugged on your wrist and lead you back towards the stadium.

He was walking in a different direction than you expected, he was taking you underneath the bleachers where who knows what goes on.

He was mumbling to himself, you didn’t hear much of it but what you did hear was along the lines of, “trying to have his way……unbelievable……like a piece of meat……my girl…….like some common whore…….dead by tomorrow……god damn faggot.”

You were terrified.

“Hey…I…I didn’t try to-I wasn’t. I tried to get away from him.” You explained.

The two of you were underneath the bleachers now, be pushed you against one of the metal posts. There were scattered cigarettes and joints everywhere, the floor was slightly muddy and a broken mirror laid a few feet from the two of you.

“Did I ever say I blamed you?! God you really are dense huh?!” He raged. “God I should go back there now and finish him while he’s down.” He was squeezing your arms so tightly, you knew they would be bruised.

He quickly shot his hand inside of your underwear and shoved two fingers in your pussy, not bothering to prep you. That was what your little warm ups before the game were for anyways.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion but was quickly silenced when he smashed his lips onto yours. He moved his fingers in and out of you while his tongue played with yours.

He managed to shake off his pants, leaving him in his boxers. He still had his football jersey on, you didn’t think he’d bother to take it off. When he fucked you out of rage he never usually took off all of your cloths, just to desperate to get to your pussy.

He practically ripped you away from where he had you pinned and turned you around. The two of you were facing the mirror now.

“Look away and I won’t hold back.” He threatened in your ear before continuing to fondle you.

‘Like he wasn’t going to already,’ you thought.

“Wait…wait not here!” You pleaded. “Someone might see.”

“If they do they won’t live to tell the tale.” He muttered, taking your shirt from your body and discarding it to the ground.

God, this man was capable of killing. You didn’t want to think about what he could do to you, how much he was holding back even while fucking you roughly. You were too scared to defy him. Too terrified to do anything other than what he demanded.

Would he get fed up with you one day and end up killing you? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to think about it. All you could do was take what he put out like an obedient slave.

He tore your jeans and underwear off, leaving you in only a bra. Be grabbed you by your hips which caused you to lean over slightly, the two of you still standing up.

He took a fistful of your hair and thrusted into you.

“AAH-” you yelp, squeezing your eyes shut.

He began to thrust into you at a rapid pace, his grunts and groans filling your ears while you desperately tried to keep your voice as quiet as possible.

He took hold of the underside of your jaw and leaned his lips to the lobe of your ear. “Eyes. Up.” He told you.

You quickly did as he said, looking up to the mirror where you saw him relentlessly fucking into you.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you took it.

“God, look at you, my fucking angel.” He whispered before placing a kiss to your cheek and peppering your shoulder with love bites.

He abruptly stopped his movements and moved the two of you two your knees, you kept a firm gaze on the mirror while he held you up against his chest where he began to thrust into you again. He reached his hand around and began to circle your clit with his middle finger.

The feeling was euphoric. He wasn’t speaking as much as he usually did, he wasn’t even degrading you which was different. Usually when the two of you would have rough sex he’d degrade you until you were crying, but he wasn’t this time despite his rough actions.

“Oh…oh god!” You whined.

“Yeah, yeah just keep whining for me. Keep looking beautiful like that.” His eyes seemed to be staring into your soul through the mirror.

Eventually he got bored with the position and flipped you over and slammed you onto the dirt ground.

“Goddamnit! You see what you do to me?!” And he thrusted back into you. He held your legs open for him while his pace only seemed to grow rougher.

“Wait! Wait you’re…ah~ you’re going too-too fast!”

“Am I? To bad baby, you’re gonna take it. I know you like it. Stop trying to convince me that you don’t like our little sessions before and after my games. Your body betrays your mind love.”

A stray tear began to fall down your cheek but the man above you bent down and quickly licked it up before it could get far. He let out a moan and uttered your name into your ear.

You couldn’t help but clench around him when you heard that, only making him more eager.

“Look at me.” He ordered, not giving you a choice since he just grabbed your face and turned you to look at him directly in the eye.

“You belong to me. Nobody else. You only talk to me, only look at me, only touch me, only think of me. Everything you do from here on out will only involve me.” He went on and on about how he wanted to be the only person, only thing in your life.

You felt trapped, and not just by his arms that caged your body, this man had practically took you prisoner. And nobody noticed.

If this was his reaction to someone else trying to take you away from him…you seriously didn’t want to see what he was willing to do if you, yourself tried to get away. All you could do was take it…like he said.

Unfortunately for you he made it so easy to take. The way he thrusted. The way he connected his body to yours. You wished he was more selfish, you wished he was more concerned with his own pleasure, at least then it would make it easier to hate when he fucked you like this.

But he was just so good at it. Giving you attention. Making sure you felt good to, even if it was a little painful at times.

He was even, I guess you could say ‘considerate’ when he was pissed off. If he was just fucking you to let off some steam he never left you unsatisfied, even if he came first. If he came first and was all fucked out but you still had yet to finish, he’d go down on you until you were shivering underneath him.

This time was no different. As he thrusted into you, waves of pleasure washed over your body. It almost felt as if the ocean water was crashing down on you.

“I love you.”

And that sent you over the edge. You didn’t expect to react that way. Those three words, he had never said them to you before. You never expected him to. You thought you were just some toy.

You wrapped your arms around him tightly as your body shook violently from the intense orgasm those words caused you to have.

It was humiliating.

He continued to fuck himself into you for only a few more seconds before he finished himself, your own orgasm sending him over the edge.

“Ah~ Ah-oh fuck! Oh shit! Ah…baby…aah….hmmm.” He groaned.

The two of you stayed still for a minute, simply enjoying each other’s warmth. He was at least.

This man…this man who took you, took your innocents, took your body, stole you away from your friends and family, isolating you from them. This greedy greedy man whom you hated, and now look at you. Desperately cling on to him like he was your life line. As if you’d fall if you let go of him.

Pathetic.

Truly pathetic.

But in his eyes, it was beautiful. He had won. He caught you, and now you were his. Only his.

His little lucky charm.

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