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mayullla · 12 days

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Title: The Wedding is Today

Character(s): Viscount (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: The wedding is today as you look at yourself in front of the mirror, wearing a white gown. Are you scared or are you broken? You weren't sure. Yet your time was limited till you become whole his.

Warnings/tags: Yandere Viscount x Fallen aristocrat!reader, F!reader, general yandere themes, manipulation (both physical and mental), power imbalance, forced marriage, loss of control, womb tattoo that is not sexual, forced servitude, 2k words

This is part two, click here for part one!

Dressed in the most beautiful white wedding dress, decorated with lace and pearls, you looked at yourself in the mirror.

You had always dreamed of wearing a wedding dress; after all, it was something that you had always been told you would have. And you had always been fascinated by the idea of wearing a dress that was the image of purity and elegance. In the past, you thought you would have it with your ex-fiancé but instead of him you were to wed another man, someone so infatuated by you.

Even with carefully done hair and makeup, it could not hide your empty eyes.

Was this the result? It had been a long time since you last saw your face in the mirror. In that dark room, forced into the whims of that man, you didn't have much. There was no mirror there, just a bed, table, and desk, with most of your clothes and necessities brought by the silent servants.

Hollow eyes covered by a black cloth.

You felt weak, your body shivering as you pulled your eyes away from the mirror. Tears threatened to fall as you tried to hold them in, worried that you might ruin your makeup and irritate him, who only wanted perfection.

You didn't want this… you didn't want this at all.

You were marrying a monster.

Even if you wanted to escape, there was no way you could. He had made sure to snuff out all your ideas or thoughts of running away. That man had placed his hands all over you just to ensure that you could think of nothing but him, making sure you would never be able to run away even after you were finally let out from your prison. You still felt like a trapped bird.

Invisible chains locked your wrists, legs, neck, and hands, forcing you to dance to his orders. You could not stand up; it was as if something was holding your stomach down, a weight keeping you still on the chair as you waited for the time drawing near, challenging you to even think of trying. A white choker necklace tightened around your neck, making you conscious of every breath. Your back was straightened with a corset designed to keep your posture rigid, preventing you from even bending slightly.

He said that he had to make sure, after all, worried that you might hunch and cry while walking down the aisle, your face would be hidden with the white veil, but he just had to make sure of your shoulders and your back.

“Your tears are pretty. But if you don't give the crowd a happy cry then we shall keep most of that in private. Oh love, you are my precious and it is the same with your tears also. They should only be seen by me.”

Yet nothing could be as shameful as the womb sigil placed on your stomach the glowing ever so bright under the dark room when you were told to go to sleep late at night. A warmth it created that you didn't want. You would have preferred to freeze to death that feel this.

The viscount rambled about how much he adored you, his perfect doll, during the carriage ride, and how much you have improved in the past days that you stayed here. He commented on your suffering and how hard you were working just to please him. You flinched the moment he said that he could not wait to make it official that you were his. “In just a few hours my dear and all the world would know that you are mine forever.”

You didn't want to look at him. You didn't want to look at anyone.

“My lovely bride," his comments made you want to vomit as tears fell down to your skirt in the carriage. His hands touched your cheeks as he gently lifted your face. Your eyes met his, and not even a lick of pity or guilt was in them, nothing but obsession, lust, and thrill. "Aww… Let your tears out now, dear, so that later when they put on your makeup, you won't ruin it," he whispered as he moved his thumb to clean your tears from your cheeks.

“I am the only one here with you right now. It is okay to cry.”

“My little dear is just so pretty. Sometimes I don't know if I could hold back later when you finally become fully mine." Lowering his head, you flinched again when he placed his chin near your neck, his hands wrapped around your waist. You could feel his cold skin against yours, hot from your emotions.

“I worry that I might just break you one day..."

None of the guests touched you when you arrived at the wedding hall only able to greet you with a bit of a distance; maids that worked under him had made sure of that. Small adjustments in the dress or helping you reach one place or another were all done by them. They worked efficiently, but you knew that their main job was to be watchdogs.

You could never stare into their eyes for too long, though. To someone who knew or who was sharp, it was obvious that the shine of life in them, meant to fool outsiders, still looked somehow fake.

You stared at the floor of the dressing room, zoned out. The music from the orchestra outside was loud yet muffled. You could hear people talking, enough to realize that the Viscount made sure that everybody attended just to see him put a lock on your finger.

In just a few minutes, you will belong to him, and you can do nothing to stop it.

It was difficult to breathe.

You didn't want to move at all when your feet started moving, tried to stop yourself when you felt a certain buzz in your core under your stomach again, warning you not to try anything.

You remember after all that time when you so desperately wanted to run away and were so close to doing so. Back then when the Viscount left the room without locking the door, you thought you could run away at that moment and that this was your chance. Even if your feet hurt from dancing the same steps for hours just moments ago, you forced yourself to move, so desperate to leave.

There was no one in the halls as you ran, careful not to cause any sound that would let servants or him notice your presence. And you were close… very close to the door to the outside.

Only to feel a shock in your core running through your whole body. It was like fire burning your skin inside out, licking your skin, leaving trails of fire that grew hotter and hotter. You fell down in the hallway, unable to move as waves of pain threatened to melt your body. You couldn't scream at all, barely a gasp.

The sigil on your stomach had reacted violently to your escape.

And the pain didn't stop, no matter how many tears fell from your eyes. No matter how much you wanted to escape from the pain, it kept you wide awake. The pain in your stomach was gruesome, while your veins felt like it was lit on fire. At one point, it did dull down, as if someone deemed that your punishment had been properly given… but you could not move, and he made sure of that. You covered your face and sobbed still feeling like every body part was burnt to a crisp.

Later, when the Viscount came back from a meeting and saw you on the floor he tutted at you… no anger in his eyes when he picked you up in a bridal carry. “My dear honey, you shouldn’t have done that. What if you had gotten hurt while running away?” He asked you with a smile, his grip on your leg painfully tight.

You received another punishment from the Viscount himself.

You watched him place a chain on your ankle, securing it to the bed. You flinched at his touch, whining when the cold metal touched your skin.

“I made sure to go lightly on you. But don't think it will be the same next time, dear,” he told you as he carried you to your bed, giving you pecks on your forehead while combing your hair as if to comfort you. “It will be even worse than this..”

Let me remind you that as long as you know that you belong to me, I will spoil you more than kings and emperors could ever do for their queens. But if you could not understand that, then we could only just fix it… and you already know what I mean by saying that.”

“Right, Love?”

“It will be your turn soon. Please get ready,” a servant spoke up. In public, they removed all their masks around their eyes. You had expected their eyes for a moment to be dead just as they were before, yet instead, you saw a liveliness that didn't belong to the person. “Please wait a moment, and we will finish up a few remaining touches,” the servant spoke in a cheerful voice, as other servants walked around with similar smiles.

You disliked how fake it was, but more than anything, you were scared that this would be what you would finally become if you even made the Viscount mad enough, pushing the thought that maybe you already were deep in your mind.

A long veil attached to your hair, the Viscount had a favor towards longer hair and told you to grow it if it was short. The dress was cleaned from any fold marks, wrinkles and small imperfections.

A white bouquet held by another maid given to you.

Your hands took the white bouquet without listening to your fear and hesitation. Again, you wondered if you were broken, already a marionette that he sometimes called you.

Walking out of the bride's room, you stood in front of huge doors in the long hallway, your own eyes empty of any delight but hidden by the innocent white veil, sheer enough to see your face just a little. Your neck moved by itself when it heard the announcement of the bride, your chin being forced up as the doors opened. You could hear the clapping first, and as you started to walk down the aisle alone, you could see some nobles who once watched you be humiliated by your past fiancé and his girl.

You didn't care about them anymore.

Your eyes moved to see in front of you, and you saw your parents, both smiling as you walked down the aisle, almost as if proud parents when in reality you knew it was a picture the Viscount wanted of something perfect.

Looking at the man again, watching you walk towards him with a satisfied smile on his lips, you could see the madness and obsession swirling in those eyes, knowing that you have been placed into a corner where all he must do is choke you even more.

Standing in front of him, you looked at him, the same sly smile on his lips as the day you first arrived at his mansion and fell into his trap. The marriage officiant continued to speak, yet most of his words you could barely hear as you were too deep in your thoughts. This moment, these last few seconds would be the last that belonged to you until it becomes official that you would be forever trapped and controlled by the man's obsession and delusions for you.

You heard the Viscount speak for a moment, bringing you out of your thoughts immediately. You had become too sensitive to his voice. You noticed the marriage officiant turn to you after hearing the answer of the Viscount and asking you the question, “Would you take this man as your lawfully wedded husband?”

Looking at the Viscount who stared at you lovingly yet at the same time knowingly, waiting to hear you say the words that will bind you to him forever. This breath would be the last that you breathe for yourself and not for him. He was a serpent, he had already bitten into your skin, letting poison seep into your veins. Any hope now would be too late.

You closed your eyes, letting tears fall down your face.

“Yes… I do.”

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bunmurdock · 3 months

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just working | matt murdock x f!reader

summary: you’re trying to focus on work, but matt murdock has something else in mind. tags: softdom!matt, office sex, oral (f!receiving), piv, established relationship, (not-so) secret relationship, idiots in love. word count: 1.9k a/n: i wasn’t expecting to share a fic so soon after putting out the poll, but someone replied something lovely on one of my fics, and it really made my day and motivated me to put to paper a little fantasy i’ve had for a while. 😭

“matt, we really shouldn’t be doing this here,” you whisper, giggling as you hide your face in his chest. you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours, the thrill of the secret adding to the excitement.

“you started it,” he teases, his voice low and warm, the vibrations tickling your ear. you’re in his office, papers and files strewn across his desk with a half-spilled coffee on the floor, a testament to the workday that’s supposed to be happening. but right now, all that fades away. it’s just you and matt, alone in a bubble of your own making.

you look up at him. there’s a glimmer of mischief on his face, a challenge. “did not,” you retort playfully, trying to stifle another round of laughter. matt’s hand rests on your back, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to the moment.

“anyway,” you say, still fanning the half-dry coffee stain on your skirt. “seriously, matt, we need to focus.”

"i am focused,” he insists, the corner of his lip upturned in mischief. “focused on you.” he reaches out, pretending to adjust a nonexistent wrinkle on your shirt. the light touch sends a shiver through you, and you swat his hand away playfully.

"stop it,” you whisper, but with no real severity in your tone. matt just grins, undeterred.

"you know, you’re adorable when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and with an air of nonchalance.

"i’m always serious,” you retort.

he reaches for and grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. he noses at your neck, the stubble of his chin teasing over your pulse point. his mouth opens to respond, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts you both into stillness. matt’s head beams up, listening, and in a second his quick reflexes have you both stepping apart, looking every bit the consummate professionals as the door opens.

“got some fresh leads on the dawson case…” foggy announces, stepping in. “ahem, am i interrupting something?” he asks, his gaze flickering between the two of you.

"no,” you and matt both reply, a little too quickly. foggy raises an eyebrow.

“right,” he says, drawing out the words with a hint of skepticism. “well, i just came to drop off these files.” he places a stack of papers on matt’s desk, his eyes lingering on the two of you a moment longer before coming to rest on the coffee cup on the ground.

"thanks, fog,” matt says, his tone casual, but you can sense a slight tension in his posture.

foggy sighs, shaking his head slightly. “you two are about as subtle as a brick through a window, you know that?” he says.

matt turns away to hide a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“foggy, we’re just working,” you reply, trying to sound convincing.

"sure, sure,” foggy says. “just remember, we’ve got a lot riding on this case. so don’t, uh—work—too much,” he says, with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

as soon as the door clicks shut, you look at matt incredulously. “matt!” before you can chide him, he gets a goofy look on his face.

“so, i uh, might have finished prepping this case last night.”

"you... wait, what?” you exclaim. the thought of him letting you ramble on while knowing the work was already done makes you shake your head. “and you let me go on about it all day?”

“guilty,” he admits. he stands up, reaching out his hand to you. “but i thought it might be nice to have an excuse to spend the day with you.” there’s something so pure and honest about his tone that it makes your heart flutter.

you shake your head but are unable to hide your smile. he holds a hand outstretched, nodding toward the exit.

you take matt’s hand, but right before you reach the door, he veers off course, pulling you into a small, rarely-used bathroom. he locks the door with a soft click, and his lips are on yours in an instant.

he picks you up with a soft grunt, sitting you on the bathroom island, hiking your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. he drops to face-level with your cunt and pulls your waist to the edge, nosing hungrily at your underwear.

“matt, are you su—” you begin, but then you stop. the small space amplifies your sound, each tiny breath and touch echoing off the walls. you instinctively cover your mouth.

as if a switch suddenly flipped in him, a low chuckle comes from between your legs, and it's him doing the chiding this time. “that’s right. wouldn’t want to get caught again, would we?”

a rough finger pulls your underwear to the side and he playfully nips at your unsuspecting folds, then molds his lips around your clit and sucks. you whine into your own palm, your legs closing on instinct, but he holds them open, impossibly strong.

“mmphf— just a quick one before we get home,” he groans, arms snaking under your open legs to wrap around them like a vice. “c’mon, sweetheart, give me more,” he grunts against you, tapping your thigh twice with his hand. you’re not sure what he’s asking at first, but then he pinches your thigh, and you yelp. you grind into his face and he groans. you catch on, working up an erratic rhythm against his stubbled chin. it doesn’t take much for you to cum like this, his tongue suctioning torturously around your sensitive clit and darting into curl against your walls, eager for a taste.

it’s unrelenting. just like the rest of him.

after you come down from your climax, he helps you stand, holding out an arm for balance as you shakily step to your feet and let your underwear and skirt drop to the floor. he then drops his hand to his own aching erection, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks and boxers. you undo his dress shirt and pull it over his shoulder and down his arm, where they catch on the muscle of his biceps.

cock freed, he shucks off his shirt, and helps you pull yours over your head, bra in tow. he pulls you near enough so that, for a moment, you’re chest-to-chest and you feel his cock pulses against your lower stomach. you’re about to lower yourself down, take him into your mouth, when he puts a hand on your waist, stilling you.

“spit on it,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low. his whole demeanor seems to have shifted in just moments, confined in a space that’s so filled with your intoxicating scent.

you comply, and watch your own spit dribble down onto his erect cock. he holds a hand under it, catching any spare saliva so he can work it over his cock.

“jesus,” he curses softly, and his other hand comes up cup your chin and thumb at your lips. for a moment, he just takes his cock and runs it across the supple skin of your stomach, the curves of your waist, then against the fat of your thighs, slapping it a few times, spreading the slick around. “you have no idea, do you? the things you do to me.”

you whine softly against the thumb at your lip. “matt, please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but, as always, he knows exactly what you want.

“turn around,” he orders, and you waste no time. he nestles between your parted legs, spreading them further with his own and bending you over the counter, the head of his cock already pushing past your entrance. you gasp, pushing back but meeting resistance with his size.

“‘s alright. ha—’ he breathes. “we’re going to take care of you, kay,” he murmurs, hand guiding himself in slowly, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down your spine. he works an arm under you, and slowly bottoms out into you.

you hiss at the stretch, but before long, you’re bouncing in his lap, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the space. he’s bigger than you, and every thrust punches another guttural sound out of you. you gasp and writhe, trying to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch and pace. you grab the counter, the sink, the mirror.

he murmurs something, but you don’t quite hear it at first.

“—push back,” he repeats, a little louder. you do, but the next thrust fills you so deep, you almost yelp out loud.

“quit running from it,” he chuckles, but his size and pace are so overpowering, your arm instinctually moves back to slow his thrusts. he grabs it instantly and folds it back over your chest.

“push—back—” he grits, pulling your hips into his thrusts. when he’s satisfied, he groans into your ear, barely muffling the sound in your hair. and then rough fingers are rubbing over your clit, circling them.

“i know, baby, i know.” he croons softly against your ear as you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. “you—fuck—be brave for me.”

“that’s right. you’re gonna get it nice and creamy for me.” he keeps an unrelenting pace.

“or else—“ he chuckles, patting your cunt a few times.

“i’m gonna slap this pussy raw.”

you barely mask the sob into your arm. “matt— please.”

“you can do it, you can do it,” he breathes, voice breaking and growing equally as desperate. “‘m gonna follow you, sweetie.”

you push back into him, holding your temple flush against his.

“love you so m—,” you croak. “—much.”

“oh, i love you so much too— you’re mine, you know?” he breathes, and then he says your name, the final trigger.

you grab the counter in front of you, seizing up and crying his name inaudibly as you come harder than you’ve ever come. his arms hold you, your steady anchor at sea as you forget all your surroundings.

it’s just the feeling of him coursing, thunderous and electric, through your veins.

he joins you moments after, groaning into the meat of your shoulder.

you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass. in this moment, it’s just the two of you.

you both step out of the bathroom, adjusting your attire. the office around you is silent, the usual hustle of the day having ebbed away with the setting sun. matt pauses, his heightened senses scanning the environment.

“coast is clear. foggy and karen must’ve left,” he notes. "office is empty.”

"your heightened senses come in handy," you giggle.

matt’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. "they have their perks," he admits.

matt pulls you close for a moment, kissing your forehead. surveying the aftermath of your impromptu interlude—the spilled coffee, the disheveled papers—he comments, “we made quite the scene here."

you glance at the mess, a playful glint in your eye. “just working, though,” you say.

“right, ‘just working’,” he repeats with a smirk.

hand in hand, you leave the office, stepping into the cool night. the city around you is alive with lights, but in this moment, they seem to pale in comparison to the excitement still buzzing through you.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x you #x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #bun’s #bunny brain

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cryptidcorners · 6 months

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Josh Futturman x Reader Headcanons

= Character: Josh Futturman

= Media: Show!Future Man

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: Just !Platonic & !Romantic mixed Headcanons!

= Request: N/A

= Tags: Fluff ! Headcanons, Shy/Awkward Josh, Romantic + Platonic, Established Relationship, Some Comfort + Reader is !GN

= Warnings: None.

= Please Read my INTRO before interacting !

Josh has always struggled to maintain relationships, including ones with friends. Not only because he's incredibly socially awkward, but his escapism within videogames plays a major factor. So, he treasures what he has with you much more seriously than anyone you knew.

Rambles about his games all the time. His interests are something you can never get him to shut up about. Josh is usually into strategies, lore & development, his favorite being "Biowars", which you already knew had quite the reputation for being a challenging videogame.

He's pretty bubbly, especially around you. Josh is an absolute sweetheart and will get flustered at almost anything. His childish personality roots out much more when you're around, mostly because Josh feels more comfortable.

He isn't very open about his feelings, mostly because he's afraid of losing people. Josh desperately wants to be a part of something and refuses to mess it up somehow. Josh, however, is very different when you're opening up. He'll advise, comfort and try to cheer you up. (It's actually crazy how good his advice is sometimes.)

Josh is content with following you anywhere, as long as it doesn't involve his house or hear his parents. If I'm going to be honest, if he's particularly choosing somewhere to lounge, it'd be an arcade. It's a field where he specializes in and he can impress you easily. It's also somewhere he can discard his low self-esteem and indulge in his skills.

Praise is like a drug to Josh. Compliments or any sight of you liking him (or what he's doing), he feels intense dopamine. He really enjoys making people happy.

He's pretty charismatic sometimes, even when he's not trying to be. Josh is usually awkward when directly talking to somebody with a set question or goal in mind, but when he needs to go with the flow, it's much more grounded. With you in mind, Josh is much more relaxed, so he isn't as shy as he is with strangers.

Wouldn't exactly say he's very affectionate, but he wouldn't mind hugging either. Again, Josh is pretty awkward, and I doubt he rarely showcases soft intimacy around anyone (whenever it's platonic or romantic). He would love to do it, but he's very shy. Though, he isn't afraid to try. If you ask, he's perfectly fine with holding your hand or sitting close.

As I mentioned, Josh is very tentative on affection, especially receiving it, but he loves getting his hair and face touched. Dude needs love.

Digs through your trash. He doesn't have any ill intents, but Josh will take time out of his day to scavenge through waste instead of asking you a minor question. I know I mentioned he's very relaxed around you, but Josh definitely overthinks, especially with relationships. He tries his best.

Will cry real tears of joy if you ever give him something. Josh really appreciates gifts, no matter who it's from. Even if it's not game related, he's definitely holding onto it for a while. (Bonus Points If: It's an animal toy, a decoration or handmade.)

Romantically speaking, he enjoys kissing you or indulging in anything sweet. A lot of giggling & sweet talk. Josh isn't very experienced in relationships like this, so he tried to wing it. Needless to say, he probably gets advice from Google images and it's adorable to see him try his best to impress you.

Will always defend you, even if he fails miserably. Absolute trooper.

Josh will one hundred percent get emotional at any piece of film he is watching with you. Especially if it's a game cutscenes and it involves animals.

Huge softie. I don't think Josh can handle saying anything remotely mean to you or reviving it. If he does, expect a flood of apologies.

Can get way into character sometimes, whatever context this is. You know what I'm talking about.

Very clingy. No other words.

Lastly, he'd definitely call you nicknames in the cutest way possible. If he lets you call him "Joshy", you've probably earned the highest pillar of his trust.

#🎮 josh futturman #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man #headcanons #josh hutcherson #writing #writers on tumblr #future man 2017

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thisapplepielife · 2 months

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Written for the @steddiemicrofic March challenge.

Five, Nine, Nine, Two

March Prompt: Pin | Word Count: 388 | Rating: G | CW: None | Tags: Established Relationship, Banter, Long-Term Relationship, Older Steddie, Still Together, But Still Pushing Each Other's Buttons

"What do you mean you don't remember your PIN? You created it!" Steve yells, and Eddie just keeps moving in front of the computer. Pacing. Fretting. Worrying his hands.

"First off, I didn't pick it. They just gave it to me and I'm expected to remember it? It's, like, eight letters. Maybe some numbers. I don't know. I'm too old for this," Eddie rambles, staring at the computer screen. Like he can will it back to the forefront of his memory.

He doesn't remember. Can't. It's just gone, vaporized.

"You didn't write it down?" Steve snaps, digging around the cluttered desk, scattering a handful of crumpled Post-Its across the keyboard. "None of these are it?!"

"You told me to stop doing that, so I did!" Eddie argues back. Because Steve had forced him to stop writing down his passwords and PINs months ago, and now, well, this is what they have to show for it.

Eddie hums under his breath, trying to remember if he made up a little song about it or not. He does that sometimes. It helps.

"Stop singing under your breath and think!" Steve snaps, and Eddie waves his hands around his head, trying to get Steve to be quiet so he can concentrate.

"I am thinking!" Eddie yells, and then starts mumbling, singing under his breath, "Pineapple peach, dog frog, five-"

"Nine, nine, two…" Steve sings along with him, clearly annoyed, drawing out that two like it has seventeen letters instead of three. "You sang that stupid nonsense song all last week. I don't want it stuck in my head again, stop it!"

Eddie stops. Looks at Steve, "That's my password."

He taps the keyboard slowly, one hunt-and-pecked key at a time: PPDF5992.

And sure enough, they're in.

Steve kisses Eddie on the side of the head, then sits down, guiding the mouse cursor to the little applications message box that's lit up in the corner, indicating there's a response waiting.

"It's there," Steve says, mouse still hovering.

"Well, click it!" Eddie demands, putting both his hands on Steve's shoulders, squeezing, urging him on.

Steve clicks it.

Accepted.

Eddie shakes Steve's shoulders in excitement. They passed the home visit. The shelter is giving them a cat. And not just any cat, the most perfect cat Eddie has ever seen in his whole life.

I don't know why this was the first thing that came to mind, but it's definitely inspired by Marshall from How I Met Your Mother and his singing nonsense to remember his bar exam password.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemicrofic and follow along with the fun! ❤️

#steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficmarch #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddiemicrofic

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telleroftime · 1 year

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To Like Him ||| Bowser x Reader

Bowser Junior keeps trying to get you to like his father. You decide to point it out during a very tense dinner with the two of them.

———————————————

Request - Anonymous : Hiiii could we get a bowser x reader where jr keeps trying to get reader to like his dad?👀

Pairing: Bowser x Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Romantic

Tone: General

Word Count: 1.1k

Bowser Masterlist

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You could excuse the accidental runnings with the king as a stroke of dumb luck: bumping into the giant koopa as the two of you rushed in opposite directions of the castle; bumping shoulders when not paying attention to each other's surroundings with only gruff apologies as compensation; coincidentally deciding to walk the same path in the same gardens at the same time of the same fiery day.

You could even put aside the very different and very childish handwriting on the little paper tags wrapped around bouquets and other gifts, packaged in similar styled paper. All of which were supposedly from the king himself, though you highly doubted the infamous King Bowser used a red wax crayon to sign his name, especially when bringing gifts to his betrothed.

However, what you could not excuse was the very smug look on Junior’s face as he sat a seat across from you at the set dining table, beady eyes bright thanks to his permanent grin. You could see his body sway and shake, his small feet no doubt kicking under the table with a rush of giddiness.

You knew what was up. You figured it out. Between everything that Bowser supposedly did, you knew that he didn’t do anything. It was all his son trying to get you to like his father. That thought was solidified when you saw King Bowser himself enter the huge dining room, red hair brushed back neatly, freezing in place as he saw you. Your eyes didn’t leave his, watching him swallow from the distance away and walk up to his seat at the head of the table.

A silence followed the scraping of his large chair, the air thick as you continued observing the Koopa King.

At first, he could meet your eyes with his own molten gaze, staring in a challenging and authoritative manner that you refused to back down from. The time ticked dangerously slowly between the two of you until eventually, to your surprise, the king looked away from both you and Junior with a puff of thick, grey smoke that left his snout like a volcanic cloud.

To say the atmosphere was awkward would be an enormous understatement.

“What’s for dinner?” Junior asked with an air of foe innocence. He looked at you with a wider grin than before as if he didn't see the tension manifesting, and then turned to his father with a boyish look just as the castle staff walked in with silver plates filled to the brim with food and clear glasses of various beverages.

You sighed at the very obvious set-up at the hands of Junior. After all, the royals in this dark castle rarely ate alongside each other unless the situation called for it. Bowser probably expected some silent father-son mealtime that the child insisted upon. You expected to listen to one of Junior’s eager rambles. Neither you or Bowser expected to see the other and it showed.

Nevertheless, you did pull some of the offered food onto your own clean plate - a balance of your favourites and whatever was seen as traditional to the Koopa Kingdom - and waited patiently for the king to start eating first.

It took a single prompt from his son for Bowser to pick up his specially sized utensils and slice into his food. He brought it to his mouth and took a bite, and only then did you follow in his actions.

And then the silence continued, a mouthful of food after the other, right until you decided to break it around thirty minutes later.

“Thank you for the gifts,” you said, sparing a glance at Junior who froze in his seat before your eyes settled onto Bowser’s, “I wasn’t aware your kingdom had such a variety of flowers.”

“Flowers?” Bowser echoed. Then, his gaze snapped to the young prince who was carefully attempting to slide down his chair. “Sit,” came the simple command that made Junior freeze in his seat, adjusting his body in the chair with a guilty pout.

Bowser looked back at you and admitted, “I didn’t get you any flowers.”

“Then I’m guessing the garments, books, and trinkets are also not from you? They were signed with your name after all.”

Bowser let out a gruff puff with a string of flames, a hard stare directed at the boy sitting and playing with his food. The beating silence was the thing that made him talk.

“I just want them to like you,” Junior argued, hands flailing above his head as if they helped him make his point, “and all you do is sit and watch and pout and do nothing.”

Bowser growled, “I do not do nothing.”

“Oh yeah? Then what did you do?”

The silence returned for but a fraction, your eyes flipping between the two royals. Then the two continued to bicker as you finished your meal, taking a sip of water from the glass that was poured for you.

Thanking the servants who didn't know how to react, you turned your attention back to Bowser and his son who both had their arms crossed in front of their chests like infants, looking away from each other with narrowed, annoyed expressions.

It was when your eyes met once again that Bowser stood up and excused himself from the room, his absence diffusing any remaining tension.

“I really do want you to like him,” Junior repeated his words, lips drawn into a sulking pout.

"Then you can’t act for him. He has to do this by himself,” you answered sympathetically.

“But he did! He bought those things. Dad just didn’t know how to give them to you.”

You smiled at Junior, your plate empty and water drank. You gestured to his own food which prompted him into finishing his meal. You were looking at he intricate details of King Bowser’s chair, deep in silent thought, when you heard the young prince burp and you turned back to look at him. His fang was bared in an impish grin.

“I do want to like him. I really do. Just… let him come to me.”

"But he'll never do that, he's too dense," he argued as he hopped off his chair, wiping his snout on the backs of his hands. You followed him off the seat.

"Would you want me to come to him?"

Junior nodded vigorously at your words, a bright spark blooming in his black eyes. He ran towards the dining room's doors and opened one for you to step out.

"Alright, fine, I'll come to him."

———————————————

Bowser Masterlist

#bowser #bowser x y/n #super mario bowser #bowser x reader #bowser fanfic #bowser fanfiction #mario bros #bowser super mario #bowser request #super mario #super mario x reader #bowser headcanons #king bowser

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naffeclipse · 2 months

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Hi, hi! I'm sure you are totally unaware of me going through your blog just now XD

But! I saw a bit of Humpback Y/N and I can't stop thinking about the small drabble you wrote way back! (Can't find it unfortunately, or don't know the specific tag to look for it hkfdg) But it was the one about how their relationship would advance and by the end of it y/n gets stuck on top of some thick ice. And it's so incredibly dangerous for someone the size of y/n for that to happen to of course! And I remember they were trapped up there for a good while, which weakened them considerably, even if they don't quite get to the actual size of a humpback whale. And I seem to recall that when Eclipse finds them they hear him teasing them for their situation (or perceive it that way at least), but they have no energy so they don't answer him at all.

And aaa I just can't stop thinking about that specific moment, because from Eclipse's perspective that must have rang every single alarm bell. This mer, who has been antagonizing him since they met, able to keep up with him in both snark and their little competition, who has grown on him so much and become a constant, physically capable of manhandling him and pettily blocking him from getting to his prey easily, who is large and majestic and physically imposing, and has always given him a challenge, they are now still and worryingly quite, still moving but having none of their usual spark, their energy, and suddenly he might realize that they've been there much longer that he perhaps thought, that time is ticking and they are weakening by the second. And then he breaks the ice and catches them, just as they are passing out!

And aaa I can't help but be curious of what happens next! Because god, if they're passed out he'd have to make sure they can remain breathing, but also try and check them to make sure they haven't been too damaged by having to support their own weight for so long, that they will be able to swim on their own when they wake. And if they need healing before they can move well again, likely he'd have to help them get food, at least until they can get back to their pod.

Would he try to stubbornly take care of them himself? Or when they seem well enough take them to their pod who can more easily take care of them the rest of the way, which might be for the best since they are so big? Aaaaa lots of questions! But I live for that hurt comfort haha XD

Anyways yes, just wanted to ramble a little about this two, because that last scene sure gave me a lot of feels gfkjhkhjds

I love each and every notif, babe <3

Ah, yes! It flips in Eclipse's head from playfully 'maybe they might need help' to 'oh no' the second they don't respond as they should, as they have during their time battling back and forth! He's immediately on it. When they do sink into his arms through the broken ice, he pulls them quickly to the open ocean and cradles their head on his chest, floating to let them breathe and rest. Y/N is okay, but they are exhausted and need a moment or two to regain their strength before swimming on their own again.

Eclipse doesn't want anyone to take Y/N from him when he needs to make sure they're okay, so he cares for them by himself, without alerting their pod. It would be wiser to let sirens their size attempt to keep them afloat while they rest but Eclipse is nothing if not determined (and a little frightened by finding his lovely, strong siren in such a weakened state).

Ahh, I'm glad you enjoy these two! <3

#chaotikanvas #apex polarity #humpback!reader #orca!eclipse

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meiliarotten · 7 months

Text

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 1: Language of Lust (Voice Kink)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: The first thing art of my third Kinktober challenge, let’s go besties!

Tags: voice kink, language kink, oral, scratching, gratuitous German, aftercare

Word Count: 4.3k

The Masterlist

You tried to understand Medic, you truly did. He talked about his experiments at length, and anyone could see how passionate he was about them. Still, he often forgot that not everyone understood the medical jargon that he did, and you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him. The last thing you were able to understand was something about the superiority of the mega baboon heart when compared to the average human’s. It was all downhill from there, but as long as he kept talking, you would keep listening, nodding along. The truth was you loved to hear Medic talk, and the reasons weren’t entirely innocent.

“Now this part gets a bit complicated, are you paying attention?” Medic asked, gesturing towards a rough diagram he had scribbled on the back of some paperwork. As far as you could tell, it seemed to be detailing how one would successfully prevent the human body from rejecting animal organs, specifically the uterus, for some reason. Usually you wouldn’t question it, but you felt it would be wrong to let him keep going on if you truly didn’t understand. Plus, it might mean you get to hear him talk for longer.

“Oh yes! Of course I am,” you said. “But just in case, could you run it by me one more time?”

Medic sighed, smiling fondly at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “I am starting to think you just enjoy hearing me ramble, mein schatz.”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the soft blush that colored your cheeks. He had no idea how well he had just read you. “Maybe I do,” you said, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible.

“Well, I appreciate that. Not many are willing to listen to me go on like this. However, you don’t have to pretend to understand for my sake.” You noticed a hint of sadness in that statement. You knew how it felt to enjoy something, especially something weird, and have no one to share your interests with.

“I don’t have to understand to see how passionate you are about it, and I like it when you get worked up.” You paused for a moment before realizing how that sounded. “When you’re excited, I mean. Excited about your work.”

Medic chuckled. “Is that so? I have always wondered what you enjoyed out of these conversations we share.” He got a bit closer to you, looking you up and down like an intriguing specimen. “And while I do believe you like seeing me happy, I don’t think that’s the only reason.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, perhaps a bit too quickly. You kicked your legs nervously, hearing the metal operation table you were sitting on creak slightly as you did.

“Let’s see,” Medic said, leaning in, studying you. Suddenly, he started touching you. It was entirely innocent, nothing that wouldn’t be done during a normal physical, even if it did leave goosebumps all over your skin. You started giggling uncontrollably when his fingers lingered on areas that he knew were ticklish. All the while he made mock ‘observations’ about you. “A slight flush, perspiration on the brow… excellent bone structure!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, growing more confused by the second. “What the hell does my bone structure have to do with anything?”

“Nothing,” Medic said. “But based on how much redder your face just became, I would say you like it when I compliment your appearance.”

You stared at Medic, finding yourself at a loss for words. He held your gaze, and you looked away first with an awkward laugh, feeling like he was staring right into your soul. Was this really happening? Was this Medic’s way of flirting?

Placing a hand on your cheek, you found that it was indeed warm. You also probably should have been unnerved by Medic’s comment, given his track record with skeletons. In fact, he had once detailed how he planned to one-up that particular achievement with something he lovingly referred to as ‘the circulatory system heist.’ Honestly, he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he managed to steal every major organ system in the human body at least once, preferably leaving his victim alive in the process.

Finally, you responded. “It’s not just the compliments. Truthfully, I just like hearing you talk. You have a hot voice.” A moment of silence was all it took for you to realize what you had just admitted. Shit. You had gotten too comfortable. You had said too much, and of course, your immediate response was to stammer your way through a desperate, panicked stream of consciousness. “I mean nice! You have a nice voice, in a normal way. It’s, uh- unique, with the accent, you know? Yeah, that’s it. You would make a good narrator.”

Real smooth. Perfectly executed. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.

He had, in fact, suspected many things. An expression flashed across Medic’s face. First came realization, and then surprise. You weren’t sure whether you should be proud of the fact that you actually managed to surprise Medic, of all people.

“You like my accent?” He spoke with a certainty that implied he already knew the answer. You wished you could blame it on Medic being observant, but the fact was you had basically outed your massive crush on the team doctor in a moment of weakness. The only thing to do now was own up.

“Maybe,” you said, just above a whisper. You’re face was so red, and you felt hot from the blood rushing to your face. “I do have a bit of a thing for it.”

It was definitely more than just ‘a bit of a thing.’

“I am surprised. Usually when it comes to accents people go for the French, or the other romance languages,” Medic said, looking you over like you were a subject to be psychoanalyzed. It made you feel so small, even though you had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted. Not that you would. You liked where this conversation seemed to be going, even if you were embarrassed by how it was initiated.

“I guess I just have unique tastes.” There wasn’t much more of an explanation for you to give. You weren’t quite sure when you developed a thing for accents, let alone Medic’s in particular, but the human brain worked in mysterious ways. While you satiated yourself with the occasional foreign nickname he had given you, there was a part of you that occupied lonely nights with thoughts of how it might sound if he were to moan against your ear, whispering sweet nothings in a language you barely understood.

“I hope that this isn’t the only reason you come to visit me,” Medic said. “I actually thought you enjoyed hearing me ramble about exotic animal parts and Medigun technology, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking, ja?”

“Of course not,” you quickly reassured him. “I guess you could say I came for the accent and stayed for the sordid tales of grand theft skeleton.”

That at least got a laugh out of him. “Well then, I suppose I can’t be too hurt, liebchen.”

Damn it. Your blush had just begun to calm down, too. “That’s not fair!”

“Why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem with my little pet names before. In fact, I think you liked them very much.” His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on you in a way that reminded you of a wolf tracking its kill.

“It’s different now that you know,” you stammered, struggling to keep your composure as you held his gaze.

“How so, schatz?”

You huffed. Now he was just doing it on purpose. You weren’t going to humor him with an answer if he was just going to keep teasing you- until you felt a breath against your ear. “I asked you a question, mein engelchen. I expect an answer.”

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. You hadn’t even realized how close Medic was getting. Now his arms were on either side of you, gripping the edges of the operation table. He probably noticed the way your body stiffened and the way you squeezed your thighs together. Even so, a part of you worried you were being too presumptuous. Was this really going where you thought it was going? “Medic, what are you doing?”

“I thought that would have been obvious,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m giving you what you want, if you’ll let me.”

“Seriously?” you asked, trying not to be too embarrassed at how the word came out as more of a shocked squeal.

“Only if you want to.” Medic backed away to look you up and down. He still wore a knowing smirk, but there was a hint of sincerity behind it that let you know that if you wanted this to stop, it would stop. You didn’t want that though. You had dreamt of a moment like this, and here it was, being offered on a silver platter, or rather, a silver operating table.

Before you could think, almost as if on instinct, you leaned forward and kissed him. You felt him startle, jolting against you slightly before he melted into the sinfully short kiss. You looked up at him with glassy eyes when you parted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Looking up at him like that, you were irresistible. Medic leaned down, kissing you hard. He was much rougher, biting at your lower lip until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him against you. He moaned into your mouth as you grounded against him, cursing the layers of fabric that remained between the two of you.

“Medic, please,” you gasped when you parted for a breath.

“How about you beg for me in my native tongue?” Medic said. “After all, I know how much you love it.”

“I don’t know how,” you whined, not even caring that you sounded utterly pathetic. Your voice was already quivering and besides a heated makeout, nothing had really happened yet.

Medic’s gaze softened. You were adorable when you were frustrated. “I’ll teach you, liebe. You know how to say please, don’t you?”

“Bitte.” You responded with some confidence, having heard Medic say it before, usually when asking for assistance on the battlefield.

“Very good. Now, repeat after me, ‘Bitte, lass mich deinen Schwanz lutschen.’” He spoke slowly, and you repeated the words at the same pace, occasionally struggling around the pronunciation that felt foreign on your tongue.

Medic smiled, and you took that as a sign that you did well. “What does it mean?”

That smile twisted into a smirk. “It means, ‘please, let me suck your cock.’”

The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you knew you had just turned a much deeper shade of red. Perhaps it was a bit naive of you to think that what you had just said would be anything other than lewd. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Can I?”

“Certainly!” Medic’s swirk widened, his teeth glinting in the harsh light of the infirmary. His eyes tracked your every move as you dismounted the table, pacing around him until he was leaning back on the steel surface and you were knelt down in front of him. His ever present gaze made you shiver. Reaching for his belt, you paused at the buckle, glancing up at him nervously. “Go on, liebling.”

You nodded, wasting little time unfastening the belt and unzipping his fly. With some finessing, you eventually freed his cock, working him up with your hand. The way he groaned at your touch made you squirm, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to quell your arousal. You were quite proud to find that he was already half hard.

It wasn’t long before you could get to work with your mouth. You licked your lips until they were reddened and wet. The noise he made when you simply dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock was maddening. You had fantasized about what it might be like to hear him moan, to watch him come undone with your touch, but nothing could compare to the real thing. You needed to hear more.

Little did you know, Medic had thought about this before as well. He had wondered how you would look on your knees, lips parted and ready to take anything he gave you. You took it so well, too. Your mouth was tight around his shaft, and you did such delightful things with your tongue that made him grip the edge of the table and pulled shaky groans from his lips. “That’s it, keep going, liebchen. Du machst das so gut, you’re so good!”

You shuddered, a low moan escaping you. Although it was muffled, Medic immediately took notice. Your muscles were taut, and you seemed to double your efforts, bobbing your head faster and working your tongue against him. Something he said had certainly motivated you. ‘A praise kink,’ Medic thought to himself. ‘This will be fun.’

“Do you like it when I call you good?” You would have nodded if you weren’t otherwise occupied. In fact, you were so wrapped up in your current task that you barely heard him. He didn’t seem to need any further confirmation though. Medic weaved his fingers into your hair until he had a tight grip close to your scalp. “Let’s see just how good you can be for me then. I want to feel your throat tighten around me.”

He pushed you further down onto his cock. Every move was gentle and gradual. Medic paid attention to your reactions, pausing whenever he felt you gag, letting you adjust until eventually you managed to take him as deep as he hoped for. You were held there, breathing slowly through your nose as you felt his cock press into your throat. Your tongue continued to massage the underside of his cock.

“Sheiße,” Medic cursed softly. His grip on your hair loosened, and you took the opportunity to start bobbing your head again. Only now, you could take him to the hilt on your own accord. Instantly he was gripping the edge of the operating table in a white knuckled grasp. “Oh gott, liebling! That’s so good!” He was panting, and you loved it. Every sound that came out of him was breathy and high pitched, almost sounding more akin to whimpers than moans. “You’re doing so well, meine gutes mädchen, my good girl!”

Of course the praise wasn’t about to let up. You moaned around his cock, doubling your efforts. You were a good girl, you were his good girl, and you wanted to prove it with every fiber of your being. For a moment, you thought you could be content to simply bring him to completion right there, your own pleasure be damned, but it seemed like Medic had other plans. You felt a harsh tug on your hair, pulling you off of his cock. You gasped, the sound quickly turning into a whine.

“Sorry, liebchen, but with the way you were moaning…” He paused for a breath. Medic’s expression was pained, as if he didn’t want to make you stop, but forced himself to. “I was getting much too close, and I still want a chance to fuck you properly.”

You immediately jumped at that, almost literally, as you hoisted yourself back up onto the table with surprising speed. The metal had gone cold, cold enough that you felt it through your clothing, causing you to shiver. Speaking of clothing, you were still wearing far too much of it. At least that’s what Medic seemed to think. He quickly stripped you of your pants and underwear, only allowing your top to remain, to ward off the chill of the metal.

Medic took in the sight of you slowly, relishing every detail. Your legs were spread wide and inviting. Oh, you were positively soaked. He ran a finger over your sex and it came back wet and shining. The gesture left you shuddering. It seemed you were sensitive to even the smallest touch. This was going to be fun.

“Please, please fuck me!” you whined.

“You can’t withstand a little teasing, liebchen?” Medic laughed, letting his hands caress your inner thighs, so tantalizingly close to where you wanted to be touched, but just out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll have what you want, but first, beg for me properly.”

“Bitte!” you cried, recalling your earlier lessons. “Bitte, Medic!”

“You remembered! Very good.” He dragged you forward to the edge of the table, sliding his cock against you, past your entrance and up to your clit. So close, so agonizingly close. “Now let’s add some new vocabulary. Say, ‘bitte, fick mich.’”

“Bitte! Fick mich!” You didn’t hesitate like before. There was no need to speak slowly and sound out words. Desperation apparently did wonders for your pronunciation.

“Perfekt.”

Medic’s cock was coated in your arousal, twitching against you. He was just as needy as you were, he was just better at hiding it, but there was no need to resist anymore. In one quick thrust, Medic lets you feel every inch of him. The noise you made was animalistic. You clung onto his arm, pulling at the sleeves of the white coat that he still wore. You didn’t even mind- the uniform was starting to become part of the appeal.

He groaned, thrusting slowly, savoring the feeling of your warmth around him. You watched, enraptured by the way he buried himself within you. “So good,” he muttered. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “Is it good for you too, meine liebe?”

Medic stroked your cheek gently, his gaze softening. “It feels good. Fuck, Medic! Please fuck me harder!” you gasped, bucking your hips uselessly.

That moment of gentleness faded as soon as it arrived. Medic gripped the edge of the table for leverage as he fucked you against it. The metal creaked beneath the barrage, but it wouldn’t give away. This table was built to hold the likes of Heavy, there was no way it would buckle. Any other surface very well might have, though.

“I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time,” Medic groaned, his voice low and his breathing heavy. Even now, he tried to take in every feature, committing the image of you taking him so nicely to memory. Everything from the gentle bounce of your chest to the way you bit your lower lip in a vain attempt to smother your own moans would be a detail he could call upon during lonely nights. “If only I knew sooner that you were so smitten with something as simple as my voice.”

Suddenly, his grip shifted to your waist, pulling you forward to meet his thrusts. You keened, feeling him drive deeper into you. He rocked his hips against yours, letting you grind and adjust to the newfound depth.

“Medic,” you began, struggling to catch your breath enough to speak. “Medic, I want- oh fuck!”

“What is it, liebchen?” He paused, letting you regain enough composure to speak. “Go on, tell me what you need.”

“Just keep speaking to me, please, until I come,” you pleaded.

“What would you like to speak about?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Anything,” you said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “And could you maybe do it in German?”

“Natürlich, kleine Taube. Ich glaube, du willst es härter, ja?” Now unable to understand him, the ferocious pace you were subjected to came without warning. You held onto the edges of the table, feeling the metal dig into your fingers as your grip tightened. Medic’s fingers pressed into the softness of your waist. You gasped when his nails dug in as well, adding a delightfully painful edge to the pleasure. “Das gefällt dir, nicht wahr?”

The pain was gone almost as suddenly as it began. You whined, unable to hide how much you had enjoyed the rougher treatment. It wasn’t long before you got another taste. Medic’s hands moved down to your ass, his nails leaving little crescent shaped indents in the supple flesh there as well. You were starting to pant, mouth agape and gasping as he suddenly lifted your hips upward.

“Gott, du hast so einen schönen Arsch. Das nächste Mal sollte ich dich von hinten nehmen.” This new angle proved to be very effective. You were much louder like this, his cock hitting all the right spots. Medic knew that if he were to simply touch your clit right now, you would be coming for him in seconds. However he wasn’t ready for this to end just yet.

Your moans were music to his ears. Should any of his fellow mercenaries pass by the infirmary right now, it wouldn’t be hard to determine just what was happening. The thought managed to rouse some envy in Medic. Your sweet sounds were for him alone. Perhaps it would be better to quiet you down for now. Leaning down, he pressed his lips roughly to yours, muffling your noises. You still whimpered between kisses, but they were soft and subtle, just barely loud enough to reach his ears.

“Magst du es, wenn ich dich küsse? Soll ich weitermachen?” he murmured, stealing another soul reaping kiss. This was quite liberating, being able to say whatever he wanted to you, only to watch you melt at the sound of it every time. “Du musst nicht antworten. Es ist für mich offensichtlich.”

You rolled your hips to meet his. He felt the way your muscles flexed under his hands, and he knew you were close. You whimpered and gasped, haphazardly bucking against him, chasing the last bit of sensation that would tip you over the edge. Your expression was a beautiful mix of desperate frustration and overwhelming pleasure. It was a sight that brought Medic dangerously close to losing control. Realizing he was reaching his limit, he finally showed you some mercy, knowing that the look on your face when you came would far outweigh anything he had yet seen.

“Komm für mich,” he groaned. One hand splayed out on your lower stomach, his thumb reached down to rub quick circles over your clit. You may not have known German, but you could most certainly infer what that meant. You shuddered, back arching, letting out a harsh sounding moan as your orgasm overtook you. “Du fühlst dich so gut an. Ich komme- scheiße!”

Now that you had reached your peak, Medic’s inhibitions seemed to be gone. He chased his own climax, thrusting into you roughly and unevenly. When he finally went still, you had practically gone limp beneath him, overstimulated and teary eyed. When he came you could have sworn he was even louder than you were. You almost wondered if he was playing it up, given your affinity for his voice, but on the other hand, Medic was loud and proud in most situations. It would only make sense that he was a bit of a screamer himself.

When he finally came down from his high he noticed how you were trembling. It was clear that your body was overwhelmed. A few tears managed to spill down your cheeks, even as a blissed out smile remained on your face. You probably didn’t even realize you were crying. Medic withdrew carefully, making an apologetic sound when you whimpered at the sensation.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he said, stating the obvious. Medic observed you for a moment, making sure you were alright, before you suddenly found yourself being hoisted against his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist for stability as he lifted you off the table and carried you towards an offshoot of the infirmary. Before you could ask where he was going, or how the hell he had the strength left to carry you like this, Medic opened the door to reveal a small, but cozy room. This was clearly his personal quarters. It made sense that it would be part of the infirmary.

“Why are we here?” you asked. Your words were soft, as if raising your voice above a whisper might shatter the pleasant afterglow that had began to settle over you.

“It is quite late. The least I could do is let you stay the night.” Medic laid you down on the surprisingly plush mattress. This was luxury compared to your barracks. You stretched out before burrowing into the blankets letting them engulf you.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For all of this. That was so good.”

“I had fun as well, mein Täubchen.”

That pet name was new. He had used it a few times tonight, but only now did it pique your interest. “What does that mean?” you asked.

Medic smiled softly. “My dove.”

“Oh,” you said, too flustered to say much else. Being compared to one of his beloved pets felt nice. It made you feel delicate, like something to be cared for.

“You blush so easily!” Medic said with pure glee. You almost expected him to pinch your cheeks. “I will definitely enjoy this side of you, liebe, so easy to tease!

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, trying to brush it off, even though you knew your face was practically glowing with the flush that you were sporting. “Maybe we can do more tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”

“Of course. This was quite an eventful day.” Medic kissed your forehead, an oddly tender gesture after all the rough treatment. “Get some rest. I will join you once I’ve cleaned up in the infirmary.”

Medic left and you closed your eyes. When he returned just a few minutes later you were already asleep, snoring softly in your sanctuary of pillows and blankets. He had never seen you so relaxed before. You murmured something unintelligible when Medic slipped under the covers beside you, whispering for you to go back to sleep as he draped an arm over you, feeling your body press closely against his in the peaceful darkness.

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #cross posted on ao3 #tf2 #kinktober #Kinktober 2023 #medic x reader #tf2 medic #medic tf2 #medic team fortress #medic team fortress 2

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hihomeghere · 11 days

Note

Hi can you do 5 and 23 with five? please and thank you !

Word count : 750

Warnings/Tags : Cursing, alcohol, older!Five. I was so happy to get a Five request! Haven’t written for him in so long it was good to get back into his head <3

Prompts : “If you seriously propose that I sit on your lap, I will kill you.", “Are they really just a friend?”

You could feel Five’s eyes boring into the back of your head from across the bar. Trying your hardest to focus on whatever Klaus was rambling about now. Even without the alcohol, his bubbly speech fit right in with the chatter of the intoxicated around you. You sipped your drink, something Lila had ordered for you. One of her favorites, since she couldn’t drink it.

It had become more and more of a challenge to deal with this unspoken thing between you and Five. Especially when you had his brothers and sister-in-laws constantly hounding you. He rested against the bar top, exuding confidence as his fingers curled around the crystal glass in his hands. His right hand laid on his thigh. You caught his eye for a moment, cursing as his familiar smirk tugged on the corner of his lip.

“Y/n.” Klaus said, snapping his fingers in front of your face.

“I’m listening.” You nodded, turning to look at him, bringing your glass up to your lips.

“I thought you were eye-fucking my brother across the bar.” He chuckled, a wide grin splitting across his face.

“Klaus!” You hissed, taking a step closer to him. Wide eyed as you turned your back on Five.

“What?” He laughed, “I can not tell a lie.” He said, holding his hand up in a fake salute.

“I was not eye-fucking him.” You say, feigning disgust, “Besides we are just friends.” You quickly brought your drink up, taking a large gulp.

“Is he really just a friend?” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“You know Klaus, I’m sorry but I’m gonna have to agree with Five here.” You said with a shrug, starting to walk backwards away from him, “You need to find some friends that aren’t your siblings.” You said with a teasing smile.

“Who peed in your wheaties?” He scoffed as you walked through the sea of bodies to Five. He greeted you with a smug smile, lifting up his glass.

“Got tired of Klaus?” He asked, raising a brow.

“How could you tell?” You laughed looking for an open chair nearby. His eyes got a certain glint in them, he took a breath clicking his tongue.

“You know-“ He started, holding his arm open over his lap.

“If you seriously propose I sit on your lap, I will kill you.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Just a suggestion sweetheart.” He said with a nonchalant shrug, his signature smug grin on his lips. You lean on the bar top next to him, swallowing the rest of your drink.

“You wanna know what Klaus was talking about?” You asked, hissing as the alcohol burned your throat. Giving you a newfound confidence.

“Enlighten me.” He chuckled

“He said that I was ‘eye-fucking’ you.” You chuckled, heat blooming in your cheeks at your admission. He raised his eyebrows, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Hm,” He thinks for a moment, “I would have thought he would have said that about me.” Your mouth goes dry at his words. You were glad you hadn’t been drinking because you’re sure you would have choked.

“What?” You chuckled nervously.

“Would have thought he would have seen me ‘eye-fucking’ you.” He grinned, his eyes raking over your body.

“Are you kidding?” You sputter, your eyes wide as you stare at Five.

“Do I look like I’m kidding sweetheart?” He asked, raising his brows, that stupid fucking smirk plastered on his face. You blink a couple times, trying to think of a coherent sentence. He sighs, sucking in a breath. “Look, I get it if-“ You cut him off, pressing your lips against his.

He reached forward, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck as he pulled you closer. You stumbled forward, your hand falling onto his thigh. His slacks slick under your hand. His tongue swipes your lower lip, a silent ask for entrance. Which you happily agree to. The smooth taste of his cognac filled your senses as he licked into your mouth.

It was intoxicating, his hands were everywhere, as his tongue delved into your mouth. The rest of the world seemed to fall away, as though you were the only two people in existence.

You two parted, panting as he looked at you through heavy lidded eyes. A boyish grin spread across his lips, replacing the smirk he had earlier.

“I like that drink,” He chuckled, swiping his thumb over his lip “I think I need another taste.”

“I’d have to agree.” You giggled, moving forward to kiss him again.

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves x reader #hihomeghere #mini prompt #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #ben hargreeves #allison hargreeves #lila pitts

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blasphemecel · 4 months

Text

Shidou Ryuusei — Like Teeth

PAIRING: Shidou Ryuusei/Reader WORD COUNT: 3.6k TYPE: Humor, Feelings realization, idfk what this even is but i threw in some surprise fluff at the end WARNING(S): Nsfw jokes but cmon it's shidou you gotta forgive me for finding sex funny this once, play-fighting that doesn't seem very playful, canon-typical mental illness, canon-typical unnecessary dramatics, canon-typical overly intense soccer rivalry NOTE: Reader is a part of the blue lock project but no concrete gender identity or pronouns are specified

It starts like this:

After the freaky nerd from the ceremony whose name you hadn’t bothered remembering finishes with his instructions about this game of tag you’re supposed to be playing, the biggest asshole in the room immediately targets you once he realizes you’re the one with the highest number on your jersey. You trap the ball with ease and then kick it straight into his face with as much power as you can muster, knocking him out, the force sending him reeling.

While the timer continues ticking, no one dares to make a move or even exhale too loudly in your presence, scared you might take their bodily functions as a challenge to your authority. Like every opponent before, they’ve submitted to you.

You stare at the ceiling, your lips set in a tight line, the despair settling in. Just this once, you want to meet someone who can excite you, and you’d hoped this ridiculous place could help.

___

As the top scorer of your pathetic excuse for a team — though behind your back they call you ‘the top red card holder,’ but considering how far up your own ass your head is, you’re yet to pay attention to this remark — by the second qualifying match they already know to pass the ball to you no matter what. In your defense, you’re not any more tyrannical than the average douche in this competition. It’s not your fault they’re too worthless to do what you can.

Two of the opponents are blocking your path, and you shuffle the ball between your feet trying to get the positioning right while they attempt to steal it. Everyone is making noises, but they never mean anything to you. You back up once you’ve felt that the stars have aligned and strike the ball through the tight opening between their bodies, taking the first goal of the match.

“You’re good!”

You blink, the words bringing you out of your perpetual trance to look at the guy in front of you. He starts rambling some nonsense about explosions and how he’s going to beat the ass of anyone who can’t give a good show and you think at some point he has started finding new roundabout ways of saying that he basically wants to bust a nut on the field. It is absurd. You understand it down to your bones, except maybe the last thing. For the first time, everything is coming into view. You can make out his face and you can hear his words and you see your teammates in your peripheral vision. How you didn’t notice him before, what with the hairstyle and his cartoonishly beautiful eyelashes, you’re not sure, but you’ve never been more present during a game before.

“Alright, gyaru,” you say. “Show me how you explode.”

“Gyaru?” he tilts his head, grin wide like a demon’s. “You think I’m pretty?”

Though Jinpachi Ego officially writes down what ensues as a round-robin tourney in his notes, the spectators (meaning literally anyone else who was in your physical proximity) would describe it as ‘The Longest Dick Measuring Contest They’ve Ever Seen.’

The way he moves fascinates you like nothing else. Just like you, he is a creature of instinct. You both circle around while trying to score or steal the ball, only to find that stopping the other is impossible.

After this match, two monsters glance at each other and think, ‘Maybe there is someone out here who understands me.’

___

There are still jitters in your veins. You can’t sleep. Is it ridiculous and maybe parasocial that the thought of ‘I want to see this guy again’ is keeping you up at night? Yeah, probably. You also feel like a creep lying down in the dark with your eyes wide open, yearning to bulldoze through something like you do when you want to calm down.

Frustrated, you slip out of the futon and leave the room while the rest of them are sleeping. The hallways let out ominous flickers, trailing after you while your steps echo and bounce off the walls. This building looks like a prison, you think, though you hadn’t noticed before.

You hate to think that your desperation is so strong you’ve developed the power of manifestation overnight, but when you step inside of the training room, he’s already there. He doesn’t have the decency to seem surprised at your entrance when you close in on him. His arms are crossed and he has a smug aura about him, but for the love of everything you cannot comprehend why he’s standing there doing nothing. At least you planned on being productive when you headed here with your plan to obliterate whatever you could get your hands on. Just so happens it’s him that you found.

The weird silence stretches, but it doesn’t bother either of you because as it turns out you have the same kind of social incompetence. You realize you don’t even know the guy’s name, but he declares, “You really came.”

You don’t really know what he means by this considering you didn’t arrange to meet here beforehand, but he’s saying it as if this was some unanimous agreement you came to earlier. “Waiting for me in the middle of the night all by yourself, handsome?”

“Every cell in my body was calling out to yours,” he says as if it explains anything. His expression is bordering on maniacal. Anyone else might’ve realized this was a bad idea, read the warning signs, but to someone like you who has lived their entire life sleepwalking, the excitement of such a strange encounter is addictive. “We’re the same… That’s why you felt it.”

“In that case, please avoid summoning me so late,” you say. “I value good sleep.”

He cannot tell if you’re just taking the piss or if you’re on the same page, but it’s rare that anyone entertains him when he says anything of that nature. To him, this is an amusing turn of events. “They say you’re some kinda unhinged delinquent. ‘s that true?”

“Sure, if that’s what you call putting a few sorry bums down in their place after they crossed me.”

“So you know how to scrap too, right?”

Right now, Shidou Ryuusei is like a kid at the candy store. You can’t discern any reason for him to swing at you, but he does, smiling all the while. After you respond to his provocation with a duck and a kick of your own — you avoid using your hands for anything if you can avoid it, finding it beneath you — you decide to consider this your friendly introduction to each other.

If he wants to coax the crazy out of you with his punches, then you’re trying to get him to settle down every time you retaliate, daring him to pipe down and turn boring just like everyone else. You’re not sure for how long you duke it out, but at some point you grow sloppy, and the last you remember of it before succumbing to your exhaustion is the last round of boneless slaps you offered each other.

___

Two of your teammates hatefully watch you and Shidou from across the cafeteria. You’re a selfish and insensitive person, of course, they know that. Before this, you’d always eat alone, but ever since the match where they were forced to watch you two flex on them, you’d hang out with him. Still, “I can’t believe [L/n] would rather have a romantic dinner with the only goddamn bastard in this goddamn building who gets better meals than share with us! I’m sick of this natto.”

“You’re telling me,” the other boy says, sadly eating a radish.

This must be an advanced form of psychological torture administered by Ego himself. Even if you don’t notice the audience, Shidou seems to be reveling in the negative attention. They can only watch and drool while you two push at each other and try to steal ingredients. At some point, you put Shidou in a suplex, making him cough out something. Then he wrestles his way out of your maneuver and shoves your head into your plate, forces you up again, and licks the food off your face while you scowl at him.

“I’d hardly call that a romantic dinner, though.”

“A guy from blondie’s team said he caught them asleep on top of each other in the training facility once.”

“Do you think they’re-?!”

“Oh my god, they’re…!”

They scream and point at each other and then hug as if traumatized. To add insult to injury, your voice rings from afar, “Are your eyes really pink? There’s no way that’s natural,” while some of the sauce still sticks to your skin.

“What? You think I’m some kinda fake?” asks Shidou, apparently offended.

“I’m gonna expose you, trust.”

How are you blowing everyone in your cell out of the water in terms of performance? You have to be the dumbest person in this entire wing.

___

“I want you,” he says.

Granted, this is out of context, but you still find that the words have some effect on you. But this won’t do no matter how hard you want to give in. With the first stage of the second selection cleared, you can’t continue as you are. You’ve been complacent in your talent. To expand your abilities, you need to observe whatever other powerful players there are in here instead of still chasing after him. Even the wet wipes on your old team have started catching up.

Besides, you’d always thought your appeal to him is as an opponent, someone who he wants on the other side of the field to face off against, and now Shidou is demanding to work together with you.

“I was in a coma before I met you,” you say. He pinches his eyebrows together, which is probably the first time you’ve seen him pull such an expression. To think you have the ability to utter something so strange, it weirds out even Shidou. “You pulled me out of it, but now I need to see other things, too.”

“If you tell me you wanna go watch other guys, I might get jealous.” Despite the initial waver, he sticks his tongue out at you, trying to be playful like always.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Shidou grabs you by the collar of your jersey and pushes you against the wall. You blink at him, finding this an inappropriate time for a spar seeing as this is regular enough for him, but then he invades your personal space in a way which doesn’t feel particularly combative, your noses brushing against each other, and he blatantly glances at your lips before closing his eyes. You don’t think about it when you pull him in by the neck, your body reacting to his cues.

It’s not even that great, he’s not really being effective at what he’s doing, mashing your mouth against his almost pointlessly, teeth clashing and all before moving far too quickly onto the tonguing part of making out. Your nails are digging into his neck and his hold against your waist is tight enough to bother you. There’s a latent aggression in it like there is in any other interaction between you two.

And you don’t enjoy this for the surface-level sensations but rather for the strange tightness in your chest, the headrush, the closeness where somehow he’s enveloping you and you’re enveloping him at the same time and it feels like you’re about to fuse. You don’t want to let go yet, maybe under the assumption that if you keep kissing him, he’s going to be polite and return your breath to you.

Steps come near the entrance of the hallway and then, “Ah! Uhhh…”

You snap out of it and push Shidou off of you. He has the gall to look offended, glaring.

There’s some puny kid with a buzz cut, standing there with his confusion clear on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, uh… whatever it was you were doing!” he says in a panic, waving his hands back and forth.

Yeah, that’s a good point. What the fuck were you doing? You just jumped at each other on instinct, ruled by some bizarre, mysterious need.

It must be because the air is so charged between you. Shidou is always in overdrive and he has a penchant for pulling you into his madness. You’re always doing something when you’re together — trading blows, trying to show the other up in soccer, saying heavy-handed things for no reason — and now a moment of stagnancy happened and you both turned into even bigger morons than usual.

He didn’t think about it either, you’re sure. Besides, even if you’re a crazy bastard on the field, you’re not like him. Shidou will meet even stronger players once he advances and he’ll move onto his next obsession. This doesn’t mean anything, at least not to him, you’re convinced.

You untangle yourself from him and ram your shoulder into his as goodbye before lamely saying, “I’m going now,” and offering a nonchalant wave.

He frowns before kicking imaginary dust off the floor. “Sure, fine. Be this way!”

Igaguri isn’t super puritanical or anything. Yeah, he grew up in a temple and all, but seeing two people kiss doesn’t offend his sensibilities. What freaked him out was how you managed to make it look like a fight while you were going at it, and like, he knows the hallway was deserted before he came out of thin air, but this is still a public place. Whatever happened to shame?

And now he has to be in the same vicinity as this scary guy who’s glaring daggers at the spot you were standing in, vein bursting out of his forehead and all, as if you ruined his life by walking out of here. He looks like a manchild who’s sulking because his mom forgot to make him chicken nuggies. A bead of nervous sweat rolls down his forehead.

___

Ever since the beginning, Isagi has been honing his technique, always hungry to add another skill to his repertoire. Rin and Shidou have no synergy; fine, he thinks, it’s not like he really even wants to set up a goal using them. It’s not enough to satisfy him anymore, not after the last match. He’d much rather score himself.

But the problem with the spatial awareness he has developed is that he can’t turn it off at will, or say ‘la-la-la’ and ignore something to focus on what’s important.

Well, being on the same stage as you and Shidou has to be the worst thing of all time. He wants to smell a goal for himself, but the most likely chemical reaction he can predict is one between you two, and you’re not even on the same team. It’s like a ticking time bomb, like those explosions Shidou has been vaguely rambling about, and it permeates the air.

You’ve started adapting his bodily control and precision, almost coming close to scoring with your back on the net. And Shidou has managed to pull off one of ridiculously tight angled shots to break through a two-on-one, passing the ball to Rin. If the phenomenon Isagi observed and achieved before is ‘consumption,’ then he has a first row seat to watch you two cannibalize each other.

The most unfortunate thing is the chase. The ball will come to you, but Shidou will steal it. He’ll be in the air ready to strike, but you’ll sabotage him from below. Isagi recognizes this as an unconscious prediction — on a molecular level, you know where the other one will be, and you’ll race there. It’s like he’s watching both of you swing neon signs and desperately scream ‘Please look at me!’ and overall beg for attention while also stubbornly refusing to make eye contact in fear of rejection.

It is revolting. He wants to gag.

Sure, Ego talked about how luck is a skill and how a pro takes advantage of it, but he never mentioned what to do when someone on his team is living through a low-rated soap opera episode with an opponent. With all of the emotional constipation among the participants of this godforsaken project, he’s sure this won’t be the last time he’ll need it.

___

Sitting down in the middle of practice isn’t productive, but you’re ‘taking a break,’ by which you mean you want to snap someone’s neck. It’s been boring again, ever since Shidou started disregarding your presence. You’re even on the same team now and it’s like you’re no better than air to him.

Of course, you’d predicted he’d find someone new to excite him. You just hadn’t anticipated it’d hurt your feelings. Why do you care, anyway? You should be used to this. The soccer you’ve played has always been selfish and lonely, and moping and jealousy are below you.

But during the match against U-20, you saw him look at Itoshi Sae the same way he first looked at you on the day you met, spouting nonsense with his unique expert-level yappery. And you don’t like that. You don’t like it at all.

He’s off doing his own thing again when you search for him with your eyes. You stand up.

And then you don’t think at all, breaking out into a sprint at full speed.

You’re behind him in the matter of a minute or so, slipping your foot between his and kicking the ball overhead so it lands behind him. He bristles, perhaps at your unwanted company, but you’ve already turned on your heel to run in the other direction.

You’re dribbling the ball when you glance over your shoulder. He’s onto you, trademark grin on his face. You’re not even sure what you’re trying to accomplish here, but all that comes to mind is, It doesn’t matter if it’s going way too fast or way too hard anymore. Just chase after me one more time.

You’re almost all the way over to the other goal, maintaining your lead, when Shidou kicks the ball after lunging around your side. It slips off half-assedly, but you don’t have much time to mock him for his technique because he grabs you by the wrists and pins you down, straddling you to the ground.

“That’s a foul,” you say, displeased.

“I don’t care.” His smile is so big you feel like he’s going to need to visit an orthodontist after you’re done here. The annoying strands of hair he keeps loose are hovering near your face, taunting you.

Your eyes dart again with your head in the fake grass and you see it straying off. “And the ball didn’t make it. To be honest, you were sloppy.”

“I don’t care.”

“You… don’t?”

There’s that sick fluttering feeling in your stomach again and your heart kicks against your chest painfully. Your cheeks are growing warm and you feel uncomfortable by the heat with Shidou so close to you. What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously, he didn’t even tell you a line or anything. He just said ‘I don’t care’ twice. That’s not game! You need to get a grip.

“Yeah, why should I? I’ve got you right where I want you now.”

You raise an unimpressed eyebrow. If making you look like an idiot is his revenge to you for making him mad, then fine, you’re going to pretend you can’t make your way out of his grip with ease.

“You can’t give me a big dopamine hit like that and pull away,” he says, leaning closer. By this point you really can’t see much apart from his big ass head right in your face. Does he even know what he’s implying to you while looking at you straight-on? Does he realize you know his weird euphemisms are all figures of speech for whatever makes him horny?

“What do you mean?”

“Tellin’ me all that romantic stuff and running away…” Shidou narrows his eyes as if the memory is enough to annoy him.

You blink. Oh. You thought he was throwing a temper tantrum because you refused to team up with him. But once again, you’re unimpressed. “So did that turn you on or what? I don’t get it.”

“Well, I’d put it in other words, like, let’s say, hypothetically, maybe you made me explode because you’re an oxidizer and I’m an organic-”

“Ok, I know, but I’m trying to figure out what’s going on here-”

He retreats and rolls away from you, allowing you to sit up again, so you cease talking without reaching the point you were trying to make. It flies out of your head anyway when he links his hand with yours, staring at you, seemingly subdued now. You’re not sure why you’re both acting like shy middle schoolers now while indulging in something so chaste considering you’ve done way more indecent things together, but you intertwine your fingers and offer him a smile. The sight catches him off-guard.

Before he can bask in another achievement (this time being the first person to make you express any kind of joy when everyone knows you’re one distant asshole), a ball hits him straight on the forehead.

Without any preamble, Rin deems it fit to announce his presence by saying, “Your lukewarm displays are appalling. You should both just die.”

You stare at him and then at each other and burst out in laughter, pointing at him. Though you finish your laughing fits at about the same time, you spur on another one by asking, “Do you think he even knows what lukewarm means?”

“No, I seriously doubt it!”

Rin thinks to ask you how come you think it’s chill when your shitty boyfriend or whatever he is says the grossest things imaginable, but suddenly it’s a problem when he wants to say his favorite word, though he doesn’t want to seem too offended or otherwise invested.

___

Im sorry if this is in any way contradictory or shitty or sucks balls I havent slept in 4 days except for a one-off 3 hour nap and wrote this while possessed. Maybe ill sleep again at some point and this will be the worst thing ive ever seen and ill have to delete it. God forbid.

#shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

HAPPY HOUR with jo

sometimes, a poll happens here on a Thursday. but this week a good thing happened to me (I passed my exam, will I shut up about this? eventually, but not today) and to celebrate I thought we could celebrate one another? sometimes, real life is hard, and this is our sanctuary to escape to, and while I can’t bring cake or flowers to everyone, I thought this is a nice way to let people feel celebrated. so let’s have a happy hour (will continue until the asks stop). you can begin sending in now, but I’ll begin answering in a few hours.

rules:

✨ be positive

to enter happy hour, either send in:

✨ something good that happened to you this week that you want to share and celebrate

✨ share that you completed making a challenging gif set, writing a oneshot/series or creating a piece of art? send in a link, let’s eat cake over it it! (only rules for this one is that it has to be the one you’re proudest of to do date — only because there’s lots of lovely fic rec spaces and im not trying to smother over them with this)

✨ a nice message to someone you love on tumblr dot com

✨ share a happy thot or idea over characters — let’s ramble

✨ share your fave photo of pedro or ppcu character

✨ anything positive you’d love to share

and just add #HappyHour within your ask

for those that reblog, if you’re inspired to start your own, please feel free to copy my rules and guidelines, but please just link back to this/tag me so I can see all the positive! 🩷

tagging some no pressure moots: @thetriumphantpanda @hellishjoel @goodwithcheese @secretelephanttattoo @psychedelic-ink @fuckyeahdindjarin @janaispunk @swiftispunk @joelscruff @mrsmando @morallyinept @lavendertales

#happy hour with jo #fun games #jo’s thoughts #positive ✨

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filtharchives · 6 months

Text

omg my first fanfic since middle school but rambling with @sugar-omi sm inspired me to try again

i’m literally gonna throw up !!!!!! also this is my first time writing smut so it's bad sorry if it feels super rushed–it’s because it is! I wrote it before my next lecture 🙈

oh! and happy birthday cove! ♡

edit: took down the first time i posted this bc i rlly did not like it but ended up not editing

summary: cove x reader - cove doesn’t like losing but you drive a hard bargain

tags: NSFW, fem/afab reader, high libido!reader, sub cove, prolly ooc, use of aphrodisiacs, handcuffs, p in v, dick riding in cowgirl position, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill i swear but always wrap it up!) idk what else i’ve only ever posted on wattpad i never used tags like this lol

it had been a few months since you and cove moved into your new apartment together and needless to say, you had gained a lot of sexual experience since then.

though you weren’t at the point of fucking like animals, ever since the two of you first went “all the way”, it had opened a new door in your relationship, and without the fear of getting caught by your families, he’d become much more clingier and practically always had a hand somewhere on your body, which sometimes led to a little more than just heavy petting.

in an effort to be a little more adventurous, you had proposed a fun challenge to cove: you would both take an aphrodisiac chocolate you found at a local sex boutique, and whoever could go the longest without touching themselves or the other would win and, naturally, the winner gets to choose the loser’s punishment.

cove nearly burst into flames at the idea of taking a drug that would make him horny–it was embarrassing enough getting turned on naturally–but it also excited him and his competitive streak, so he agreed, which led you to now.

cove squirmed uncomfortably on one corner of the couch, trying to focus on the nature documentary on the tv while you leaned back against the other corner, watching him with a smug smirk on your lips. you may have felt a little guilty setting up your boyfriend like this–your high libido gave you the heavy advantage of being very horny throughout the day even when you couldn’t act on it, whereas your poor boyfriend had less moments of neediness and was therefore not used to feeling so desperate–but it was too fun watching him sit so uncomfortably, and you knew the pay off would be worth it.

“you having fun there, cove?” you ask teasingly, languidly running a hand through your hair. cove offers a small grumble while shifting his jeans to try and make his hard on more comfortable, before deciding that wasn’t enough and adds,

“n-no…” his response makes your smirk widen.

“you know, there’s no shame in surrender~”

cove pouts at you, torn between his determination to win, and his desire to finally be able to blow a load. his stubbornness is amusing, but you want to get to the good part, so you lean forward on the couch until you have to support yourself on your arms, ensuring cove has a good view of your chest from your low-cut shirt.

“if you give up now, i promise to be nice with your punishment,” you purr, slowly crawling closer to him. even without the drug, cove was obsessed with your chest, but the aphrodisiac running through him made his eyes zero in on it. he gulps loudly and you stop in front of him.

“y-you promise…?” he asks shakily, tearing his eyes away from the tantalizing sight to meet yours. you grin in victory, sitting on your knees and slipping off your top to push him over the edge.

“i promise~”

at your words, cove concedes and practically launches himself forward, his hands landing roughly on your hips and his mouth finds your lips before trailing kisses down your neck. before he can reach your tits, however, you gently push him back by his shoulders, getting wetter at the sight of his disappointed, puppy-like gaze.

“you lose,” you say with a mocking smile. “now you have to be punished.”

cove’s eyes are already watering by the time he’s handcuffed to the bed by cheap plastic from your old halloween costumes, laying naked and flat against the mattress helplessly as you stand in front of him, removing your shorts and underwear at a painfully slow pace. his dick is so hard it hurts, twitching uselessly against his stomach as his gaze never leaves your body.

“please…” he whimpers, his hips rolling once into nothing. “please touch me already…”

“you don’t get to make demands when you lost the game,” you taunt with a smile, but you crawl on top of him anyways, straddling his hips with your hot sex so close to his, he could feel it. he whines your name.

“you promised to be nice…” he says pitifully.

“i did, didn’t i?” you pretend to ponder before lowering your hips and grinding your wet cunt against the underside of his dick, drawing out a long, relieved moan from him. the thick vein on the underside feels so delicious against you, you let out a shaky sigh. your hands rest on the sides of his chest as you roll your hips against him, your forefingers rubbing his perky nipples making him pant.

“stop teasing,” cove begs. “more… i…”

“what? what do you want from me, cove?” you ask coyly, grinding particularly hard and biting back a soft moan as his tip catches your clit.

“i-i… please just- just fuck me already!” he cries.

“y’ lucky i already prepped,” you mutter, lifting yourself off him and reaching one hand down to line him up. cove nearly sobs in relief as you slowly lower yourself down on his length, both your hands on his chest again as you reach the hilt.

“f-fuck…” he gasps softly, feeling your warmth encase him entirely. he nearly sobs again when you lift up your hips until he’s almost entirely out, just for you to slam down on him again, marking the start of a brutal pace he was not prepared for at all.

“w-wait! you- that-” he starts, only to be cut off again and again by his own moans and disoriented thoughts, before he can finally string together a thought and a cry of your name. “too much!”

still, you don’t slow down, bouncing on his dick easily with the help of the springy mattress below you. your hands move to his legs as you lean back, giving cove a clear sight of where your bodies meet and how your combined arousal has left a milky ring on the base of his dick with a few stray drops sitting on his seafoam bush. he doesn’t even have the ability to thrust back up into you, letting you use him like a glorified dildo as tosses his head back on the pillow behind him, only to lean forward again to watch you. his moans match yours and the pace you’ve set, the sound of your ass slapping against his hips echoing in the bedroom and his eyes drifting all over your body, lingering on your face, tits, and cunt.

“o-oh, fuck…!” cove hisses loudly. “h-honey… please, let me touch you…!”

“n… nuh uh,” you grin down at him. “y-you lost, so… you gotta put up with this- oh, fuck-!” the coil in your belly is close to snapping, and you can tell from how he twitches inside you that cove is close as well. you pick up the pace, crying out when his tip hits your cervix. cove calls out your name like a mantra.

“i- ‘m gonna…” cove chokes out through his moans.

“do it,” you pant. “cum in- oh!” your cunt squeezes him in surprise as his wrists break free from the cheap plastic handcuffs and his hands tightly grasp your hips and he plants his feet on the bed to thrust up into you just as he wanted while you lose control.

“f-fuck!” you cry out as you do your best to support yourself on cove’s chest, eyes rolling back from his breakneck pace and his balls slapping your ass. it only takes a few seconds for you both to reach your climaxes and you loudly moan cove’s name as he shakily groans, his cum painting your insides white. you don’t even have a moment to collect yourself before cove rolls the two of you over, still sheathed inside you and not any less hard. he hovers over you with a wolfish grin, some of his sweat dripping onto you.

“your game and punishment weren’t fair, so it’s my turn to pay you back, okay?” he says darkly. “and i like doing it without the condom. we should do it more often.”

oh, you would definitely do this more often

this was not up to my standards but that's okay! warm up round 💪💪💪 we only get better from here baby let’s go

#currently cringing at myself #gngngn #olba #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove x reader #i wrote this #smut #cove holden smut

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kelp-dreaming · 11 months

Text

Talk Too Much

pairing: Kendall Roy x F!Reader

summary: You have a habit of rambling too much, Kendall finds a way to fix that.

genre: fluff!!!

word count: 1.3k

tags/warnings: swearing, that’s about it this time!

a/n: based off the song “Talk Too Much” by COIN. Wrote this for a friend, probably not super show accurate since I haven’t watched it yet (i know i know)

You never really knew when to shut up. You’ve always been a talker; a nervous talker, an excited rambler, an angry babbler, the list could go on. And typically people like the Roy’s did not like being interrupted, but somehow they decided you were alright. At least Kendall, your boss, (not that he ever really acted like it) let it slide.

You sat fidgeting with your dress, pinching and plucking at all the folds in the fabric.

“Oh this always happens with this type of fabric,” you pouted, smoothing your manicured nails against your waist. One thing that was always a perk to being forced into these stupid things was that Kendall spared no expense to make sure you looked the part. What part? Who knows at this point.

Your relationship with Kendall Roy was… unconventional, to say the least. Technically, you were hired as some kind of PR manager when shit hit the fan with him, which seemed to happen every twelve seconds. But that title was quickly forgotten and honestly, you just kind of became a paid personal assistant slash arm candy. Which, to be frank, was a lot more difficult than one would think.

But here you were, shifting back and forth against the luxurious leather seats and making sure you weren’t going to accidentally flash anyone as you stepped out.

You continue to ramble, “--It’s just like, why does satin feel so nice, but also makes me feel like I’m a stuffed sausage. It’s really insane to think about the the ways women are–”

“Jesus,” Kendall finally groans, running his hands over his face, he turns and addresses you, “listen, you look great. Please, for the love of God, shut up for like 10 minutes.”

Heat rises immediately in your cheeks, tinging your nose and tip of your ears with pink. You wring your hands together, rings clicking against each other. Your voice is soft, “I’m sorry.”

You’re staring down at your knees, one exposed because of the slit that goes up the side of your dress, when you see Kendall’s hand grip your bare knee lightly, giving it a light squeeze. A bolt of electricity flies up your spine, and you do everything in your power to stop your body from breaking out into goosebumps, to no avail.

“Hey,” Kendall presses, trying to get you to look at him, “it’s alright, just– just relax.”

You blink at him. He’s trying to comfort you. He’s never really been good at it, but the effort is enough to ease some of your nerves. You offer him a soft smile. His hand lingers on your skin, and you swear you can feel his thumb begin to rub small circles against your skin. But before you can know for sure, the car comes to a halt, signaling that you were at your destination. When he removes his hand, you suddenly feel very, very cold.

“Well,” he sighs, “let’s get this fucking over with.” Looking back at you, he adds, a playful smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, “If we do this right, we can probably get out of here in an hour.”

He exits the limo, reaching back inside for your hand, which you eagerly take. You slide across and out of the limo, Kendall taking extra care to stand in front of you as you exit so that no paparazzi can get a “money shot” up your skirt. You smile up at him.

“When did you become a gentleman?” You challenge, snaking your hand around his elbow.

Kendall just offers you a small shrug, his face stony. It normally is when he’s around the press, so you’ve learned not to take it too personally. Expertly, Kendall is able to navigate you both through the crowd and into the gala.

You’re immediately bombarded with loud music and lights. Oh, it’s one of those galas. Your grip on Kendall tightens as you enter the room. He brings his other hand over yours, giving it another reassuring squeeze.

He leans his lips to your ear, “One hour, I promise.” Before he pries your hand off of him. You don’t mean to, but you pout. You pout. Like a silly fucking school-kid.

“What am I supposed to do? What if I get lost? What if I get drugged here, Ken? What if you can’t find me and then you leave without–”

He cuts you off by saying your name, his hands gripping your shoulders. Another round of goosebumps, as if this couldn’t get more embarrassing.

“You’re fine, go grab a drink, shmooze, or– I dunno, sit in a fucking corner. But I will not leave you. I’ll find you, okay?”

You bite your lower lip nervously, but after a moment you give him a nod. He releases you and disappears into the crowd. Letting out a shaky breath, and smoothing your clammy hands over your curves, you make your way over to the open bar.

And that’s where you stay for nearly an hour. Scrolling on your phone, sipping your third Dirty Martini, when you feel a familiar presence. Looking up you see Kendall making his way toward you. He looks… relaxed. A very rare sight to see, especially lately. When he meets you at the bar, you can’t help but flash him a bright smile, relief washing over you.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Kendall asks, before ordering himself a club soda.

“Mhm,” you respond sipping at the liquor, suddenly feeling very nervous about drinking around him.

“You can drink,” he reassured, as if he could hear your thoughts, “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure? I can dump it, or–or–”

Kendall puts his fingers over your lips, silencing you. You’re not quite sure what has gotten into him, he’s rarely as handsy as he’s been all night. Not that you're complaining, you’ve been lost in his deep eyes since day one.

“You’re doing it again,” Kendall retorts, “You’d think that a drink would–”

“Three,” You corrected.

He raises his brows, “well then especially after three drinks, you’d be a bit less…” he gestures at you, “this.”

You stiffen. “What do you mean?” Your eyes prick with tears. “I-I can go– I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no,” Kendall rushes to reach for you. He lets out a huff of a laugh, “There’s nothing wrong. You just… you talk a shit ton.”

“You’ve known this for how long at this point, Ken? I can’t help it, I just don’t know how to tone it down. I know it’s obnoxious, I know it’s annoying and that I’m not being paid to talk your ear off all the time. I just get so pent up. And now I’m rambling again and– God– I just don’t know how to stop it–”

As you continue to ramble, your hands now in on the conversation as you speak animatedly, Kendall sets down his club soda in a matter-of-fact kind of way, a determined nod as he does so. He turns to you, nodding along with your babbling before placing his warm hands on your cheeks and pulling your mouth to his.

Eyes wide, you freeze, before your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the kiss. His lips are soft, softer than you’d imagined. There’s a type of reverence to the kiss, as he cradles your face in his hands. It feels like it’s something you both had wanted to do for so long.

What feels like too soon, he pulls away. His eyes search yours, hands still cupping your now incredibly flushed cheeks. You can see the ways his eyes crinkle with a small smile.

“Hey,” Kendall finally breaks the silence.

“Hi,” you breathe out.

“You okay?”

You can only respond with a nod. Too shocked to speak, which is a first.

“If I knew kissing you would shut you up for a fucking second, I would’ve done this more often.” He chuckles, before slinging an arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

#succession #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #kendall roy x you #succession fanfic #kendall roy fanfic

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ivestas · 1 year

Text

hot head

Summary: You threaten a renowned colossi of a sniper and challenge him to fight.

Tags: sniper!könig x sniper!fem!reader, canon divergence, power imbalance(?), mentions of medicinal drug usage, unedited, reader implied to be on the younger side

Word count: 1.2k

Notes: I've decided to experiment more with characterization; I believe many character headcanons and depictions I make are often influenced by my own experiences, which is obvious, but it's hard to grasp when the character your writing is not only the opposite of you in many ways, but likely has a mindset much unlike yours (male, strong, a soldier, of a culture I know little of, etc) I feel like due to my own experiences, I unintentionally feminize and soften these hardened (male) characters... all this to say that if I keep jumping between versions of these characters, its due to this LMAO—also, the major parallels this has to one of my previous konig oneshots was intentional! and, as usual, sorry for the dubious quality, i just wanted to get the idea down!

You were nervous.

It was hard not to bounce your leg, glance left and right, fiddle with anything beside or on you (dog tag, straps of your gear, a random coin), just trying to shake away the underlying anxiety that ate away at you.

But this is your first 'high-stake' mission, and not only that, but you've been handed to by veterans way beyond your league. You felt clumsy among them, severely inadequate.

Especially since you've been paired with the master class sniper, König.

The mission, according to Aksel, is 'simple enough' for the two of you: you guys will be planted in opposite areas of the enemy base and shoot down and provide back up if stragglers come out or reinforcements come.

But, again—first fucking mission ever that's something as intense as this, and not only that, again, you were paired with König.

You hadn't said anything though, merely nodding to the instruction with a swift 'understood, sir!'

Though you couldn't deny it: it was eating at you, and with your mind clouded with so much thought, it was difficult determining if your hands were gonna be steady enough to shoot (even though it didn't matter because the mission was taking place next week).

While you were busy mulling and agonizing over the hundreds and thousands of ways you could fuck up, you hadn't noticed a certain man making his way to you.

It was only when he spoke that you realized there was someone near. Head shooting up, you spoke quickly, not quite processing right away who it was.

"Yes?"

And then it hit you:

It's König.

It shouldn't have been much of a surprise—it's only natural for pairs in mission to discuss the details and set some sort of plan beforehand; it's practically protocol, actually.

But still, it surprised you. Still, you were able to shake off the surprise quick enough for his words to properly register when he spoke.

"You're nervous."

König said the words with no ire, no disgust, no nothing. It was an observation, plain and simple.

"I... suppose I am, sir."

A puff of laughter—or was it just a scoff? Snort? "No need to address me as 'sir', I'm not your superior."

"Sorry. It's hard to when, you know," shut up. "you're kind of... legendary? I mean, master sniper and all," please just shut the fuck up. "You're kind of like a superior in a skill sense? You know in those rpgs when like—"

"I get it."

You laughed awkwardly, refusing to look at him directly.

"May I give you a piece of advice?"

You looked at him then. "Yes?"

"Cut the rambling short. Although I don't mind it, many others could and will use it against you—it's better to be blunt and honest rather than shy and all over the place." He lifted a finger. "One presumes and sets dominance," he lifted a second finger. "The other presumes and sets weakness."

You were a little offended by that. "Okay but what if I just stabbed them? Can't call me weak after that, even if I start stuttering like Porky Pig."

"..."

"...sorry."

König laughed, and this time, you could properly identify it as one; it was throaty, almost raspy. "I see now—you're a loose-lipped girl. Either a mumbling mess or a sharp-tongued harpy."

"That a bad thing or a good thing?"

"It depends; say I use it against you, will you commit to your word and stab me?"

"I... won't?"

"Then no longer are your words a threat to me, because I now know you're just bark and no bite—"

"I won't because we're comrades right now, but I'd stab you the moment my contract ends!"

Fuck. Fuck.

You did not just threaten a man nearly twice your height and thrice your muscle mass—

"You'll stab me when your contract ends?" He echoed. Amused.

Amused.

"Yeah, dull knife and all—cut you like butter." You rose from your seat, almost chest-to-chest, staring up at König with a glare.

He met your glare with crinkled eyes.

He was looking at you as though you were nothing but a petulant, whiny kid.

"Foolish girl," his voice was light, chiding. "You're barking at the wrong man. Surely you can see that?"

"You're awfully cocky, aren't you? Why not challenge this 'foolish girl' to a spar and prove your worth?!"

"Hmm... okay. I see why not. Perhaps a good hit or two will set you straight, no?"

It took you everything not to (try to) body-slam that fucker.

World renowned sniper or not, you're gonna kick his ass to the goddamn dirt till he's nothing but a pulp of fabric and blood.

---

The two of you were quick to make your way outside, somewhere far enough where no one would see the unregulated fight, but close enough for the safe-house to be in your line of sight.

Sand whipped and pushed at you, the sun was scorching and degrading, but you held still; you were determined to kick König's ass—even if he's huge, you know how to fight big opponents, you trained rigorously to.

König stood two meters from you. He cast a long shadow, light kissing the top of his metal helmet. "The rules are simple enough; whoever keeps the other pinned down for five seconds win and we only use the military-issued knife. Is this fair?"

"Fair."

"Good," he nodded. "Start."

The sand made your footwork unsteady, but not enough to throw you off; light on your feet, you moved close to König, knife unsheathed.

He didn't pull out his knife—in fact, he hardly moved, merely pivoting from time to time from your swings.

You swung your blade forward, aiming for his vest; again, he easily dodged, and with your outstretched arm he pulled you forward.

You could hardly register the movement; one second you were on your feet, and the next you were flat on your stomach, sand in your mouth, and blade far from your hand.

You couldn't move: your wrists were tight in König's grip, his knee digging into your lower back. You tried wriggling your legs, but his knee dug deeper until you let out a pained wheeze.

Then, a moment later, he continued pushing his knee deeper. The sand burned your skin.

1...

2...

3...

"Okay—fuck, okay, stop—you win! Happy now?!"

4...

5...

He finally moved his knee. The shadow that cast over your body was gone.

"You should be happy, maus." He sighed somewhat dramatically. "Had it been any other man, I'm sure he would've been thrilled to harm a pretty girl. Many have twisted minds."

"I'll jus—eugh..." you spat out sand, flipping over and sitting on your ass, propping yourself up with your hands. "I'll just stab those ones, then—and wait! Why'd you say that? That's super creepy, and what does 'maus' mean—?"

"Enough of the blabbing." König said. "And 'maus' means mouse."

"Mouse?"

"Yes, because you chatter away like a little mouse. I like mice."

"You're..."

"Weird?"

"Weird would be underselling it," you muttered, getting on your feet.

"Hm. At least my severe 'weirdness' cured you of your anxiety."

You were ready to snap out an insult, but... he was right.

Your hands weren't shaking anymore. They were steady. You could trust them.

But you couldn't give him that. "Weird assumption, weirdo. I just had a lot of coffee."

"...it seems I've failed to cured you of your tongue, though.”

Childishly, you stuck out your tongue. "Loser."

He merely huffed a laugh at that. It didn't anger you as much as before.

Actually... it didn't piss you off at all.

He really was a weirdo. Nothing like the image you had conjured of him before. (You liked this version of König better.)

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#konig x reader #mw2 x reader #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #könig x reader

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thatsthewrongwallcraig · 10 months

Text

The Cage

Summary: Roman really craves your attention tonight!

Pairing: Roman Roy x fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Content Warnings: Straight Filth 18+!, Puppy Play, Heavy On The Mommy Kink, A Lot Of Degradation And Humiliation, Praise Kink, Implied Chastity, Implied Cage Play, Dry Humping, Oral (F Receiving), Fingering, Begging, One Ruined Orgasm, Punishment, Face Slapping, The Nickname 'Romulus' Being Used In A Kinky Context 🐶

A/N: Whoopsie, my fingers slipped a little really hard here..

Tagging:

@crypticsewerslut @angelsanarchy @alalalaaallaaalaaa

I want to reconcile the violence in your heart

I want to recognize your beauty is not just a mask

I want to exorcise the demons from your past

I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart

- Undisclosed Desires By Muse

By the very second you stepped out of the shower, hair still dripping and your body barely covered by a fuzzy yet ridiculously luxurious, emerald green bath towel, Roman was on you. Practically pounced you with a sly smile on his lips.

"Hey, so, uhm, good shower?" He rambled, pressing his body to your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

Your reflections stared back at each other as you took a tube of moisturizer and squeezed a few careful dollops on your fingers before gently spreading the product across your face, working it into your skin.

"What do you want, Roman?" You asked with slightly arched brows.

"What do you mean what do I want? Can't I just ask my woman if she had a nice shower?" He quipped, watching you intently with wide eyes.

"No, Rome, in fact, we both know that you can't." You threw him a side eye while withholding a wide grin.

"Ouw, mean!", He let out a little chuckle while meeting your gaze with his olive tinted eyes, "I dunno, maybe I just want your…attention?"

"Oh, attention, huh?" You nodded your head slowly.

"Pretty please?" Roman curled his lips into a soft pout that eventually elicited that grin to form on your face.

"Let me finish up in here and by the time I'm done you better be out of those clothes and on your knees for me in front of the bed, understood?" While the words rolled over your tongue, you let your voice turn more stern.

Before his facial expression caught up to it, you saw the change in his eyes first, that tell-tale glint flickering behind the green and brown of his iris. His whole demeanor shifted instantly from the cocky, cut-throat businessman to an obedient servant.

"Understood." He answered quickly, nearly turning on his heels to step out of the bathroom as swiftly as he had entered it.

As soon as Rome had closed the door behind himself, you felt your heart beating harder against your ribcage, steadily rising excitement waving through your body like an electric current. Just the mere thought of Roman on his knees beneath you, attentively looking up to you with perked ears, clinging to your every word, left you weak.

However, you dragged yourself through your nightly routine of brushing your teeth, waiting for the moisturizer to soak into your skin before padding yourself dry. For a moment, you pondered over keeping the towel wrapped around but that didn't exactly appear that convenient to you. Trying to steady yourself with a few deep breaths, you brushed your hair, dragging out the time you spent in here to make him wait while making yourself be patient just the same.

"Contain yourself." You looked at your reflection in the broad bathroom mirror for a moment before you turned and went for the door.

In swift, stern steps you carried yourself to the bedroom just across the hallway, taking one last breath before putting on a neutral face that, unbeknownst to you, would get challenged as soon as you stepped into the bedroom.

"Really?", It shot out of your mouth like an arrow, cutting right through to Roman "You really are down bad today, huh?"

It was obvious how hard he was struggling to not look at you while your cold gaze rested upon the messy array of his clothes, thrown all over the bed instead of neatly folded the way you usually demanded him to.

"You told me to get out of those clothes and I did." He answered, his eyes transfixed to the floor while audibly choking back a bratty chuckle.

At his words you felt a well familiar feeling bubbling up in your stomach. He wanted to rile you up with whatever necessary and it worked because it caught you so off guard today.

"Oh, Romulus.", You groaned whilst rolling your eyes and stepping right in front of him, "I really wanted to be gentle with you today but you just went ahead and blew it, didn't you?"

In the very next moment, your palm met with the soft skin of his cheeks, serving him a firm, quick slap. You didn’t punish Rome in that way very often because slapping him in the face was something very delicate to you but today he earned it.

As his face slacked to the side, a high-pitched mewl fell from his lips.

"I'm sorry, mommy, I really am, but today was-" You just cut him off right there.

"I do not want to hear your stupid sob-story, boy.", It rolled over your tongue in a firm tone while you knew perfectly well that you'd ask him all about it the second this session was over, "Rule breaking gets you punishments, easy as that."

You looked down on him, pushing down a forming smile as your eyes traced his reddening cheek.

"You know what? For now I really need you to shut the fuck up. Get me off with that filthy mouth like the good puppy dog I want you to be and maybe… if you're not a complete and utter disappointment, I may excuse this absolute mess." As soon as the words rained down on him, puncturing every button with nearly surgical precision, you saw the humiliation washing over his face.

His usually straight eyebrows arched upwards whilst he clenched his teeth and a thin, watery sheene flooded his eyes.

"You got that, Romulus?" He immediately nodded in return, taking a deep breath.

"M-may I touch you with…with my hands, too?" His voice was sore and shaky already, giving you a weak feeling in your knees.

The way he asked rendered you soft for a second and before you could stop yourself, you answered: "You may."

That was all he needed to know to quickly raise his hands around your thighs, cupping them with wide palms before pulling his face into your bare, wet and hot cunt.

"There you go." , You commented in a low moan as you felt how his his eager tongue parted your fold in one languid stroke, "So fucking needy for it today, no? Pathetic puppy."

Being talked down on like that made Roman's eyes flutter shut, an explosive mixture of shame, humiliation and a juxtaposed need of proving himself worthy burning all throughout his chest. All of it, the degradation and the intense thrill of finally feeling you, went straight down to his throbbing cock, its head twitching against his lower abdomen. He tried to ignore the building pressure because he knew that he wasn't allowed to touch himself without your explicit permission, hadn't been in the past two and half weeks at all. All the arousal he felt was hurting him physically but not so deep down Rome knew that it was what he deserved. He knew that he needed to be put in his place from time to time because he simply loved acting up a bit too much, always had.

"Look at you, trying so hard to be a good, little puppy boy for mommy." It cascaded down from your halfway open lips in a low voice as you allowed your head to loll back a little.

One of his hands had left its former place on the back of your thigh, his fingertips now ghosting right around your cunt for a few lazy circles before they carefully pushed into you.

"Uh-huh!" Roman practically hummer into your clit, his lips caressing it with plenty of gentle kisses.

"Fuck..", You hissed, feeling how Roman started to move his fingers in sync with his tongue lapping at your pussy, "Pent-up, needy, little Jack Russell Terrier, yeah, that's what you are, no?"

He whined into you again, the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through your body, rendering your mind blank.

"That's it, right there. C'mon, be a good pup and hump my leg. I allow it. You gotta be so desperate for it." You heard yourself ramble into the room.

Right after the avalanche of words had left your mouth, Roman was on you, pressing his crotch against your leg with shaky thrusts of his hips. You felt the plenty of pre-cum being smeared onto your skin but you didn't mind, if you felt like it you'd make him lick it all clean again later.

"There, there…" A dragged out moan erupted from the depths of your lungs as you noticed your nerves slowly tripping into orgasmic overdrive.

Your quivering cunt clenched down around his slender fingers as they stroked over that especially sensitive spot inside again and again. With your head thrown back and your chest heaving heavily, trying to get the necessary oxygen into your system, you simply let go, allowed yourself to fall over the edge right into blissful contractions that had your entire body shaking.

"Good fucking boy, Romulus.." You hissed, biting down on your bottom lip as you rode out your release on his tongue flat against your throbbing clit.

"Thank you, mommy, thank you!" Rome croaked in a perpetually cracking tone, his hips continuously jutting against your leg, his rock hard cock rubbing between your skin and his lower torso.

"Oh, oh..no..fuck…shit.." It spilled right out of his mouth soon after.

He tried to pull himself away from you with such force that you could hear his knee's scraping back over the wooden floor but it was to no avail. Thick, pent-up ropes of his cum spurted through the air, painting the floor and parts of your leg in milky-white splatters.

"What's that?!" It violently ripped you out of your post-orgasmic oblivion.

With wide open eyes the both of you stared down and for a moment neither of you said anything. The silence was almost deafening and you noticed how Roman's face turned red and hot with shame.

"I'm so sorry, please, mommy, please..", The words shot out from his quivering lips, "I didn't mean to. I really didn't, please. Fuck, I'm so sorry."

Roman really looked like being on the verge of bursting into tears but he kept it together with grinding teeth.

"Wow….frist the mess on the bed and now this mess in the floor here, too? That's straight detention for you tonight, Romulus. No comfy mattress, nope." You stepped back from him, a blank expression on your face.

"But.." He mewled.

"Don't you 'but' me right now! Only good boys get to sleep in the bed, you know that. C'mon, you better get your ass in that cage before I have to drag you."

#roman roy #roman roy x you #roman roy smut #roman roy x reader #roman roy x fem!reader #succession #kieran culkin #romulus roy

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thisapplepielife · 4 months

Text

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Crumb Together

Prompt Day 27: Coffee Shop AU | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Modern AU, Meet-Cute, Platonic Stobin, Coffee Shop/Bakery AU, Fluff, Steve POV

Steve is carefully filling the bakery case. He's been here since three a.m., and it's still a half-hour until opening, but at least he's on time and not behind schedule for once.

"Hey dingus, do we need more muffins?" Robin hollers, banging through the double-doors from the back to the front.

"No, I have enough, thanks so much," he snaps. He's snippy this morning, pretty mad she ever talked him into this whole coffee shop scheme. Sure, they're retail pros, but small business owners? He should have said no fucking way. But she was excited, and he wanted her to be happy. That’s always his downfall.

He's definitely re-thinking that now that they’ve completely lost their social lives by keeping these insane working and sleeping schedules. They only see each other, which isn't the worst thing in the world, other than the fact that he doesn't know the last time he's touched boobies. Or dick. He's not picky.

He needs to get laid, and he can’t do that stuck inside this coffee shop slash bakery hell with his best friend.

He's about to turn and sass her, when someone taps on the front door and he jumps, throwing a chocolate muffin up into the air, fumbling it around, before finally regaining control.

He didn't drop it, but it looks a little worse for wear. He can't sell it like this.

Well, fuck.

If he was a hired hand, he'd ignore the annoying tapper until the official opening time. Which is twenty-nine minutes from now. But as the owner, he puts down his tray and walks towards the door. They could use the paying customer, even if they’ve shown up way too early, like a rude asshole.

He looks, but he can't see anyone out there in the dark. Maybe he should ignore it.

He doesn't, instead he unlocks the door, and there's a guy standing there.

"Hey, nice catch," the guy says, smiling.

Steve forces a smile in return, "How can I help you?"

"I know you're not open yet, but I saw you in there juggling the muffins, and I'm on my way out of town and really need a cup of coffee. My coffee maker decided this was the morning to croak," he says, slashing his whole hand across his neck, making a throat-slitting motion.

He's rambling, like Robin.

Steve finds it a little cuter on him, than he does when Robin does it at this ungodly hour.

Steve sighs, and opens the door wider to let him inside, "You just want black coffee?"

"Please," the guy says.

"I'll have to brew it. It'll just take a minute."

"Thank you, you're a lifesaver," he says, and Steve can see that he's looking at Steve's chest, looking for a name tag. But Steve's not wearing one. Because as the owner, he finally doesn't have to.

Robin is booting up the point-of-sale system, "Black coffee?" she repeats.

The guy nods.

"For?"

"Eddie," the guy answers.

"Good thing you asked him, I'd never know who to hand it to," Steve snarks at Robin, starting the coffee machine.

Eddie laughs.

Robin doesn't.

When it's done, Steve places the cup on the counter, and Robin immediately picks it up and writes Eddie's name on it.

Which, that's stupid. They all know it's Eddie's coffee. Then, Robin sacks up the slightly banged up muffin and hands it to Eddie.

"You scared him and caused him to squish it. So, it's yours. On the house!" she says, far too chipper for this time of morning.

"Thanks, I'll try to drop by and scare him more often," Eddie says, reading his name on his cup, grinning. Then Eddie slides a ten dollar bill across the counter, waving off his change.

As soon as the bell on the door jangles, signaling Eddie's departure, Robin turns and slaps Steve on the arm.

"What the hell? That cute boy wanted to flirt, and you totally dropped the ball, dingus!"

Steve scrunches up his forehead, "Huh?"

Robin just shakes her head, annoyed, and heads back towards the kitchen.

Is Steve so rusty that he missed flirting? Goddamnit.

Steve has just turned the front door lock, and flipped the sign to closed, when he hears his cell phone ringing somewhere in the distance. He follows the sound, and when he picks it up, it's a number he doesn't recognize. Great. More telemarketer bullshit.

He goes to swipe the decline button, when Robin shouts, "You better get that!"

He looks back at his phone and cautiously accepts the call, not knowing what the hell she's done now.

"Hello?"

"Is this Steve? From the coffee shop?"

"Yeah, this is Steve," Steve says, suspicious. He has no idea who he's talking to.

"Good, good. This is Eddie. From this morning. The coffee jerk that made you open early."

"Oh, uh, okay. Um…"

"How did I get this number?" Eddie asks, laughing.

"Yeah, that was what I was thinking," Steve admits.

"Well, somehow it ended up written on my coffee cup this morning, with your name and a time to call."

Steve shakes his head, Robin is such an asshole, but Steve smiles.

"Well, I'm not sure how that happened," Steve says, teasing back. Flirting.

"Big mystery," Eddie teases, "but since I've got you on the phone, would you like to grab dinner or drinks. Coffee?"

"No coffee," Steve laughs, "but yes. To the other two, for sure. But be forewarned, I eat really early. Like an old person. Early bird specials are my jam. And I go to bed by nine. Eight-thirty if I can get away with it. I gotta be here by three to get ready to open this place."

He's learned to get that info out of the way, early.

"Well, that sounds perfect. I get up at four to get to my jobsite. I'm in construction," Eddie says.

Steve smiles, it's been a while since anyone has understood his schedule.

"So, dinner? Four-thirty or five?" Eddie asks, and Steve laughs.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun! ☕

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #coffee shop au #bakery au #modern au #meet cute #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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