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sl4sh3rsub · 7 months

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brahms heelshire hcs (nsfw: mdni)

brahms heelshire x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a whole heap. dom/sub dynamics + aspects of the lifestyle (both brahms and reader are switches, reader is a soft dom mostly) AND top/bottom dynamics (both brahms and reader are vers), dubious consent (somnophilia, overstimulation?), use of mommy/daddy/sir towards reader in separate sections, copious mentions of cum + precum (includes cum eating/cum marking/cum jar), fuck malcolm 202x (brahms is territorial), detailed ass stuff: anal, rimming, ass eating (giving and receiving), oral sex (giving), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), domestic behaviour, hygiene practices, hickeys, thigh fucking, cockwarming, sex toys, dry humping

a/n: barely edited. is it mummy or mommy?? average aussie moment. i also have a smut fic in my drafts so hmu in the inbox if you wanna see it, i'm not too sure if there's any demand for it lmao DISCLAIMER: i, personally, have not been in properly established dominant/submissive relationship! i have been in those spaces for a while though and am doing my best to not misrepresent lifestyle aspects or write fics promoting extremely unhealthy relationship dynamics - obviously take this with a grain of salt as this fic is about a slasher and is already not a healthy n wholesome starting point. do your own research and stay safe irl folks

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

there's a very clear dom/sub dynamic in your relationship and brahms is definitely a switch (leaning sub) to the core. sometimes he'll be extremely dominant with you during sex, but he'll always revert back to your sweet boy after he makes an effort to clean you up <3

you take turns fucking each other braindead but after your eyes roll into your head, you always have to get him back by making him drool into the pillows for the next couple of hours

brahms insists on starting a quickie and cumming all over your chest and face right before malcolm is scheduled to arrive. he pushes you towards the door as the bell rings and wants to leave you with his drying spend stained all over your skin, sticking your shirt to you in dark splotches - a territorial, possessive nature is awakened in brahms as he watches from the walls while malcolm flushes and realises what is going on. the best bit is, you're fully well aware of what he's doing after the first time it happens, but you entertain his antics for a little while longer to ensure the poor delivery boy gets the message to back off

he also has a small, little, teensy weensy habit of cum marking all of your underwear, pillowcases and even goes as far as making you special little jam sandwiches with a little... salty layer, especially for you

push your thumb against his hole and go to town on his ass and eat him out - put a pillow under his hips and do him a favour by stuffing your underwear in his mouth so he won't lose his voice as he's screaming from pleasure, of course. he'll be so, so obedient for the day after and if you sneak behind him to smack his ass, his knees will buckle slightly and his head whips towards you to meet your mischievous gaze

his sloppy, spit-shined pink hole winks at you after you make out with it, and the sight makes you lose control every single time, especially when he whines. he grinds against your tongue as you fuck him, circling your fingers around the base of his cock to stop him from instantly staining the sheets. his precious cum spurting onto his chest would be a waste and make quite the mess

brahms' knees get weak and he practically melts beneath your touch when you start focusing on his cockhead while sucking him off - slick up your thumb with his sticky precum as you drag it along his slit, lick small circles and drool over it as you blow cool air to see him shiver... genuinely anything to do with his sensitive tip with get him spilling all over your tongue. if he's sitting on the edge of a table or counter while you take his length down your throat, he'll shift one of his thighs over your shoulder and hump into your mouth with shuddering gasps, needing to have your drool coating him completely while his eyes roll back and you hold your breath

brahmsy is obsessed with you caring for him (both sexually and non-sexually), especially with things such as prescribed routines and specific positions for him to follow. of course brahms is reliant on order! he's already accustomed to following the rules and schedules while in the wall, so it's only natural for him to feel safe with you after his previous neglect. he's so obedient and willing for you to make him into your own pliable doll - he's most happy with you guiding him everywhere and often shaving him, practically playing dress up every day. brahms knows that every saturday is when you have your thorough 'inspection' of his body - it's when you decide whether or not to shave his pubes and facial hair in the next week! sometimes he wants to be clean shaven and sometimes he's more than happy to grow out his dark curls, but he secretly adores you methodically shaving around his cock - gently holding it up or to the side to make sure you get everything and your diligent focus solely on his soft shaft makes him flush under your attentive gaze. every single time you adjust your warm grip on his balls to maneuver the blade, his cockhead beads out a tad bit of precum. every single time, without fail. he doesn't even have to be hard for his body to react like that, for his tip to drool with his arousal, but your low chuckles and distracted glances up at his flushed chest make it hard for him to not squirm in your hold :( he was originally the one to suggest the whole shaving thing, as he wasn't the biggest fan of fully cleaning up after cumming everywhere and it tended to dry in his thick bush of curls. after you first tried out hair removal with him, he found it much easier to wipe off his mess and was overall much more convenient.

your clinical precision in keeping your favourite boy upkept each day makes for a soothing routine for you and a chance for brahms to preen and bask in your attention for a solid hour. brahms' favourite part of the daily routine is your softly spoken orders in the morning to tilt his chin back slightly as you run the razor over his jawline and down his neck. the raw vulnerability almost gives him shivers, but good boys never disobey directions to 'stay still' <3

if you manage to wrangle up get brahms into having a prescribed skincare routine, his attentively mumbled recitations of the order for his cleanser, exfoliant and moisturizer drift down the hall while you prepare breakfast for two of you :(

make sure to praise him for washing up properly before you both get intimate! his lifestyle did a 180 after meeting you, so any encouragement to be clean and neat is positive reinforcement for him to stay that way

if brahms feels a little shy or out of it on any given day, he disappears into the walls for some time away - that doesn't mean he won't trail you like a shuffling shadow though, he just might not want to be out in the open for a little. to make him feel loved, kiss the wallpaper of the wall he's behind! the little gasp or squeak of surprise as he undoubtedly turns beet red just a mere inch away from you is a small joy <3

if you feel stressed or wound up, he's fully convinced that some dick will mellow you out just fine! he wants you to be fucked out so your anxious demeanor disappears and you can be happy again - it's for your own good :(

despite how he loves the wholesome nature of your voice going soft while you compliment him, he can't ignore how it makes him swell in his pants. he just loves the warmth in your gaze and the quirk in the edge of your lips as his eyes glaze over

brahms has a cum jar that he keeps in the walls - it has a small lock of your hair set in it from when you slept in the house the first night. if you have to go out early to the local farmer's market or shops, you'll most likely find a small, warm jar hastily and clumsily cleaned on your bedside table - a cooling milky substance makes the glass opaque as a few small dribbles slide down the outer rim. it's from brahmsy, of course. he wants you to always be aware of what your presence and existence does to him

whenever he wants to try and cook for you or you leave your meal out before you eat together, brahms will quickly jack off all over the food. he just wants to make sure you have a bit of his love incorporated in your diet - in case you accidentally swap them, he'll make sure to put it on all the plates available. he doesn't mind at all, he's not picky! although, brahms would much rather eat his cum off of your fingers or out of you, or even from your lips as you make out after you give him head... but whatever has to happen to ensure you have his cum in your tummy, brahmsy will do it

he is a fiend for stealing your clothing, especially your underwear (bonus points if they're not clean) - he wears the dirty garment or simply wraps it around his leaky cock. he begs you to wear the cum-stained underwear while you go out on emergency necessary shopping trips. he just wants to ensure that you have him on your mind the whole time :(

if you refuse, he'll reluctantly compromise with you and make you keep the doll with you to ensure everyone backs off when you're in public. he swears up and down that you'll be so much safer with his 'mini me' attached at your hip

if you need to go into town at any point, make sure to prep brahms a day beforehand with being alright in your absence - have your laundry done ahead of time with your detergent and scent on it to give him and leave written instructions to have a shower using your soap and shampoo to feel safer <3 if you've been doing a project over the past few days, such as painting or long chores together (like repairing a set of chairs or dusting all the room decor), make sure brahms is comfortable with continuing it when you're out - it gives him a distraction and something to do with his hands

puppy dog eyes go both ways in your relationship - he weaponizes it to try and convince you to spend more time skin-to-skin and you use it to make him listen and follow instructions. it also has the added bonus of getting you both riled up

tap twice on your belt buckle or the fly of your pants and his brain will fully turn off. his breath goes whiny and his tongue lolls out at the thought of you using his face for your own selfish needs

brahms is incredibly shy but willing to go against his own timid nature for you. the first time he presented himself to you was something you'll never forget. you had gone to fetch him a glass of water and when you returned to your room, he had confidently stripped naked and was kneeling on the rug, waiting for you with a blush across his chest. you stuttered and diverted your gaze in shock, hurriedly covering your eyes. brahms rose and tutted, shakily tilted your chin towards him and cooing at your bashful reaction. he whispered reassurances in your ear - he wanted you to look at his body, it's yours to do with as you wish. he trusts you wholeheartedly, so command him and he will meet your every need

if brahmsy is being a bit of a brat, tease him for not being on his best behaviour - press soft kisses into his lips but never deepening, purposefully avoiding what he craves most. keep your hand at the base of his throat to gently apply pressure while you slowly draw closer to him, puffs of breath mingling as his whines get more desperate. if brahms lunges to try and smash your lips together, pull back and tighten your grip. watch his eyes roll back with tears pooling from his need

brahms' favourite punishment is being spanked as he's bent over your knee, cock pressed between your thighs. whenever he jolts, he can thrust into you as his pale skin lights up pink and red - both from your hand and his arousal. make sure to smack his balls a little too, he'll cum like a fountain from the stimulation. brahms truly is a sight to behold whenever he is falling apart by your hand

his second favourite punishment is when you fuck yourself on a dildo smaller than his cock. order him into his prescribed kneeling position - palms flat on his thighs, heels propped up under his ass and back straight - to make him watch you bounce up and down on your toy, giving him a show. watch him intently and you'll see rivulets of sweat trail down his chest as his dick bobs and twitches against his stomach at the lack of stimulation, his heated gaze feasting on the sight of your body with rapt attention. the part that makes his chest ache is your slightly needy and unsatisfied expression you try to hide - brahms knows for a fact that the silicone can't fill you the way he can. although he is more than happy with watching you get off mere feet infront of him, the agonizing thrum of his heartbeat in his cock and white crescents dug into his thighs are testament to how this scenario is effecting him. it's different to his voyeuristic endeavors behind the walls - if he had his way, he would've already busted a load onto the drywall and all over his fist at the sight of you

brahms is a massive fan of ruined orgasms - as long as you shush his yelps and whimpers while pressing kisses into his hairline and stroking his thighs, that is. he needs the comfort during and afterwards, but the raw experience altogether gives him an adrenaline rush

he is also a massive fan of cock milking - keep a small crystal bowl under his tip to catch all his milky cum. the visual of the aftermath, combined with the shaking of his thighs, nearly makes his vision black out with pleasure

brahms' movements are clumsy, and his hands shake from nervousness and reverence every time he touches you and he learns over time how to please and obey you perfectly, but he never shakes his little habit of rutting against you whenever you're nearby

the poor guy has years and years of pent-up sexual frustration and yearning - you are the perfect solution to all of his problems, so don't be surprised if he's selfish with his pleasure every so often

if you straddle him while cuddling and put his head to your chest, his brain fully stops working and all of his blood rushes to his cock. however, unlike every other time you're in a sexual position, his constant need to fuck you is delayed temporarily - he's torn between feeling comforted and extremely turned on, resulting in him being rock hard but comfortably lounging while you run your fingers through his hair. kiss him at your own pace, as he has no rush to be buried in your guts - just don't shift on top of him though, he'll snap out of it and remember what position you're both in :<

brahms has a life mission of reminding you that it's play time at all times of the day, attempting to coax you into letting him seek refuge between your thighs, no matter the situation - be it eating your ass from behind while you cook or caging you against the nearest bench while fucking your soft thighs

call him a pervert for watching you behind the walls and he'll turn bright red out of shame. do him a favour and ignore the bulge he fruitlessly tries to cover his huge bulge with trembling hands

he loves to give you head while you wake, your heavy musk is addictive to him. he's definitely not against you returning the favour the next day or fucking yourself on his morning wood after he's been humping you in his sleep. his favourite thing is to blink away his drowsiness while realising he's buried to the hilt in your tight warmth, pinching your nipples and moaning above him. hopefully you have nothing to do that morning, because the moment he cums, he will be immediately knocked out for another hour

brahms makes himself a little leather collar in his workshop - if you go into town and get an engraved pendant for him, he will go feral and not take it off for weeks :(

if he feels a bit worn out after a round or a mind-blowing orgasm, expect to feel his face nuzzle into the crook of your neck - especially when his softening cock still buried deep inside you. he loves to take a little nap in between rounds while you cockwarm him, it's just easier for your heartbeats to match pace :<

while brahms was in the walls, he had a habit of skulking around while other nannies were working - stroking his cock for a couple of minutes before going back to lounging in his bed or returning to shadow his carer, raging boner being unattended for a while before the whole cycle repeated. this results in him wandering around the house - with either his boxers tented or his bottom half nude, for easy access of course. you have to train him into the habit of wearing pants consistently. this little pattern of his also results in him initiating sexual situations with you - such as grinding, making out or dry humping - before disappearing into a wall in the middle of it, only to reappear a short while later to continue the interaction

he treasures anything you buy for him! what do you mean you got him a rose bouquet and a pretty butt plug with a shiny gem? ... a toy? for him?? he just wants to be loved and getting him any type of gift, especially sex toys, is the perfect way to ensure he knows he is loved and cared for. it validates his intense feelings of love and affection towards you

it's very important to remind him about alternating his clothes - the sour stench of sweat and musty air can cling to his older outfits, so getting him adjusted to wearing fresh clothing you picked out is beneficial to you both

brahmsy often helps himself to your bed and bedding, causing you to be pressed snugly to his lean body with the downy comforter wrapped securely around the two of you. if you're away from your room in the early morning, expect to return to a tall, snoring man bundled in all of you bed linen

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

brahms calls you daddy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his reverent gaze trails over your body.

brahmsy begs you to fuck him whenever he's feeling subby, so be sure to let him bounce on your cock - the real reward is the hickeys you leave on his pale chest while he grinds down and clutches your head close to his chest

slap your cock on his hole :( his neck will be aching slightly from his insistence on maintaining eye contact with you as he begs for you to be inside him

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size, not small in any capacity. sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as he remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your cock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation of your cock as he swallows down your hot cum. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

brahms calls you mommy relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his adoring gaze trails over your body

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to ride his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms daydreams about your lip-gloss, all sticky at the base of his cock as your tight lips suckle around his sensitive tip

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your bra strap peeking out from your shirt collar. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him... hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

brahms has a penchant for cumming with his tip pressed against your hole - he loves working you up with his tongue while stroking himself then, while he's about to cum, he pushes himself into you. that tad bit of resistance met against his tip is enough to make his balls tighten and cock spurt hot ropes

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping pussy, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your clit is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty bud, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your cunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

brahms calls you sir relentlessly, both in and out of the bedroom, but his cock jumps whenever you reply! the thrum of his heartbeat is palpable in his veins as his eyes glaze over and his devoted gaze trails over your body

he loves being able to have the hand of another man to teach him how to indulge in pleasure. the absolute mind-blowing rush he feels whenever he sinks into your tight heat rivals what he heard heaven was like, especially when you moan so loudly as he strokes your cock

whenever brahms is fucking you from behind, he has a habit of digging his fingers into your soft lower tummy, massaging his fingertips back and forth over his cockhead as he's buried balls deep. his eyes glaze over at the added pressure and drool dribbles onto your back as his jaw goes slack

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to fuck his face while he drools and whimpers at being used like a toy. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, grinding down on his tongue. after he has lapped up your arousal, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

brahms is not small in size - not small in any capacity, so sometimes his shirts ride up and flash his pale tummy. the trail of dark hair heading south below his waistband teases you every time he helps you with hanging out the clothes. the breeze ruffling your hair does nothing to sway your attention from daydreaming of what lies behind that thin material, below that soft treasure trail that points directly to his pretty cock. brahms is faring no better, as he's fully lost in his head and shooting distracted towards your figure. he's trying to not let his arousal show as brahms remembers the night before… and no, he is not listening to anything you're saying

never underestimate his drive to please you. every night, his lips are more often than not attached to your sopping tcock, tongue laving your juices as he repeatedly brings you to the edge. he's not gonna stop until you're sticky and numb, until your dick is throbbing in protest - he nudges back the hood to admire your pretty length, spittle and hot his breath cause you to throb under his tongue. he's obsessed with lapping up the arousal drooling out your boycunt. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

imagine his surprise when the pretty, sweet nanny has a bulge under her skirt just like his! his brain short-circuits when he realises you have similar bodies - he's able to transfer his knowledge of pleasure across to you. when he discovers what makes you tick, he practices on himself to get used to it and to hone his technique

he'll sew you a special set of lingerie, with hair bows to match. brahms is a craftsman at heart and nothing makes his heart swell more than watching you showcase his work. he'll fuck you in front of all the mirrors in the house - he wants to see you absolutely fall apart while you display his handiwork. brahmsy truly believes you have the beauty of an angel, that the greatest honour is to have you wear his creation proudly :(

if he has misbehaved and broken vases or trashed the house, make sure to skull-fuck him while he drools and whimpers at being used like a fleshlight. praise him for taking it so well, but remind him why he's being punished as you stroke his hair, tip hitting the back of his throat. after he has swallowed your spend, pet his cheek and let him know how good he's been for taking it like the perfect boy he is

he's not small in size - not small in any capacity. whenever he's roaming the estate and you cross paths outside, the sight of his bulge in those worn grey sweatpants catches you off-guard every single time. the delicious curve of his shaft forms a beautiful indent in the fabric and it makes your mind go deliciously blank for a few moments. don't worry, he's not going to notice your doubletake because brahms is far too invested in staring at your hard nipples making soft peaks in your shirt. his brain is full of static the moment he imagines you without your top on, teasing him with your gorgeous fuckin body as you slide down to your knees before him… hm? what were you saying? oh he was not paying attention, you're gonna have to repeat that twice as he wrenches his mind out of the gutter

never underestimate his drive to please you. he'll go until you're shooting blanks - choking and slobbering all over your length, laving the underside of your girlcock and toying with your veins. he'll keep bringing you to the edge in record time while he gets drunk off your musk and heady taste - his favourite part of taking you down his throat is the pulsing sensation as he swallows down your hot arousal. he's only trying to please you!!

_ _ _ _ _

fuck greta and by extension, fuck malcolm ig. this took a hot minute tbh. am cooking up some more stuff but might take a while.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

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lovesclinic · 4 months

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i am. putting on lots of red lipstick and kissing all over hobie n miles’s faces. all over

miles

“mmm, kisses. can't get enough of them." he groaned softly, his head tilted back as you apply the lipstick generously. he closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your soft lips on his skin.

as you begin to plant kisses all over his face, he starts to become more aroused. His hips begin to grind against the bed, seeking more contact with you. His breathing quickens as he feels the heat between your lips and the coolness of the lipstick on his skin.

when you're done, he grins widely, the red color standing out against his dark skin beautifully. "that's m' girl," he compliments with a chuckle before leaning in closer to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

“mmmph," he groans into the kiss, his hands finding their way up your thighs under your dress. he whispers against your lips, "don't stop, baby." his tongue traces along your bottom lip, begging for entrance which you willingly grant him.

hobie

you hear knocks on your apartment door and answer it, its hobie but he looks injured. hes not open to you about him being spiderman, but with him showing up to your door like THIS you have a right to have your suspicions. you can tell that hes hurt as he pretends to be fine.

Hes leaning on your door frame “what ya doin luv?” He winces slighty and decides to let himself in

feeling the sting in his heart, Hobie tried to focus on the sensations around him as he leaned against the door frame. His gaze followed you, watching you meticulously apply the vibrant red lipstick, making sure it was perfectly applied.

as you step closer, your lips brush against his cheek, leaving a stain of the bold color behind. Your lips press softly against his, tasting the sweetness of the lipstick mixed with his own salty taste

despite the pain, hobie couldn't help but respond to your touch, his lips parting slightly to deepen the kiss. his hands reached up to hold your waist, pulling you closer still.

“mmm..." he moans into the kiss, closing his eyes as you trail more kisses along his jawline and up to his earlobe, nipping softly. The sensation sends shivers down his spine, and he leans into you, wanting more.

as you pull away, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, feeling the warmth from your skin mixed with the cool sensation of the lipstick. “you know you drive me wild with this kinky stuff, luv,”

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sweetiecutie · 1 year

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Pairing: husband! Tom Riddle x fem! wife! Reader

Warnings: NSFW, kinda public sex but there’s no one around, fluff!!, kinda domestic and soft, inaccurate bc there’s no way sexy two pieces existed back in the 1950’s💀, once again my horrible knowledge of basic grammar

A/n: really felt like writing lil something for hubby Tom🥰 Sorry for disappearing for such a long period, I have lots of cool ideas and drafts but my adhd never allows me to finish any on them;( Anyways, wish you a very pleasant reading and hope you enjoy💖

It was a sultry sunny day, the kind you experience in the middle of September, when calendar summer is already gone but the sun still gladdened people with last warm days.

It took you only a few days of bothering and fake accusation of not loving you to convince your husband Tom to finally take a day off from his job at ‘Borgin and Burkes’ and go have some fun together on a beach. He was grumpy and pouty for the first half an hour, but then seemed to accept his fate, indulging your little whims and wishes.

You didn’t manage to talk him into taking a swim together, no matter how hard you tried, but Tom did, eventually, took his shoes off and rolled up the cuffs of his trousers, standing ankles-deep into warm sea water, watching you dive and dork around in salty waves.

You were currently laying on your side on a soft picknick blanket facing Tom, left arm bent in elbow, head propped up on your hand, your eyes lazily wandering all over your husband’s side profile. He was laying on his back right next to you, arms thrown behind his head, nape resting on his palms.

Tom had changed. The juvenile plushness was long gone from his cheeks, instead leaving place for his sharp jawline and protuberant cheekbones. His hair was a slightest bit longer than it used to be during your school years, framing his pale face in dark silky waves. You noticed how he was nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip ever so slightly - a telltale sign that Tom was thinking intensely about something faraway. You fought the urge to trace the outline of his nose with gentle fingertips, knowing perfectly well how grouchy and whiny he’ll get at this action.

Your eyes wandered lower, taking in his outfit - even despite the scorching sun and high air temperature Tom refused to ditch his usual suit trousers and, this time, baby-blue shirt - instead opting to undo quite a few buttons, allowing a generous view on his pale chest.

A sudden idea visited your mind so you sat up from your semi-lying position, throwing one leg over Tom’s hips, settling yourself atop his pelvis comfortably. Your nimble fingers ran up his chest, caressing exposed areas of his skin with tender touches, all the way to his face, cradling it softly in your hands; you leaned down to scatter small kisses all over his cheeks, nose and lips.

- Y/n, what are you doing? - Tom chided you softly, the corners of his lips tugging up in slightest of smiles, even though it was pretty obvious that he was unpleased with you interrupting his thoughts.

- Trying to seduce you, - you replied stoically, not a hint of embarrassment nor unease could be heard in your purring voice.

- Right here? - Tom asked, you could hear his voice rising just a slightest bit, giving out his astonishment.

- Yeah, why not? - you said offhandedly, your lips stretching in a cheeky smile, gazing down at your husband mischievously.

- What if someone sees us? - Tom rose yet another question, cocking one of his perfect eyebrows at you.

You made a show of looking around the deserted beach, not spotting a single soul being around; not only this place was secluded by dangerously high cliffs, making it extremely hard for reaching, but also the fact that it was Wednesday - a middle of a working week - reduced chances of anyone being around to zero.

You brought your sight back to Tom, shrugging your shoulders theatrically:

- I can’t see nor hear anyone, Tommy. - one of your hands reached behind your back, gripping on the straps of your two-piece swimming suit, tugging on it slowly, un-doing the tight knot. You didn’t bother to untie the second knot on your neck, instead deciding to pull the bra off over your head, throwing it teasingly on top of your husband’s chest. - I think you’re just being a buzzkill that you are, Riddle.

You made an accent on the last word, watching Tom’s eyes wander to your now exposed tits, noticing your hardened from still unpleasantly damp fabric of your bra nipples. You cupped your breasts, pinching your nubs with thumbs and index fingers, all while slightly rocking your hips against Tom’s clothed groin, sighing erotically at the slight friction it created against your clit.

You repeated your movements a few more times, circling and swaying your hips so sensually, putting more pressure into your thrusts, increasing a pleasant feeling against both your sexes. You peeked down at Tom through your eyelashes, noting the way his chiseled jaw clenched, his dark eyes never leaving your perfect body.

You smiled widely at his hungry stare, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his chopped from salty sea wind lips - he kissed you back almost immediately. Tom’s hands came from under his nape, picking your bra from his chest and tossing it aside before coming to rest on your waist, thumbs pressing gentle circles into your heated skin.

His slim fingers wandered all over your body, eventually reaching your plushy thighs - rough fingertips glided up and down your skin, rising herds of goosebumps in their wake, stopping on your ass, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

You could feel Tom’s dick hardening at your simple manipulations, his bulge growing noticeably bigger in his pants, rubbing against your soft ass with every smallest move you made. You didn’t bother taking Tom’s trousers off, just undoing his zipper and pulling his semi-hard dick out of his underwear. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, pumping it slowly a few times, your eyes never breaking an eye contact.

You straightened up, standing on your knees; you struggled quite a bit while taking off your bottoms, since this position wasn’t the most comfortable. You heard Tom muttering quiet ‘oh god’ under his breath in feigned annoyance, obviously teasing you, for which you lightly smacked him on the chest.

Once done and completely naked you slightly scooted forward so that your awaiting pussy was hovering right above Tom’s heavy cock. You gave him a few more jerks before leading it to your slicked folds, sliding them along his throbbing shaft, properly slicking him up with your juices. After a few more moments you aligned his swollen tip with your pulsing entrance, lowering your hips slowly, gently sinking onto his length. A satisfied sigh left both of you once Tom was fully buried inside of your quivering warmth, your ass pressed tightly against his thighs.

His broad hands came to rest on the swell of your hips, molding and playing with soft flesh in between his long fingers. You let out a small whimper as you could feel Tom’s cock stuffing you full, his tip was pressed against your cervix so deliciously, all along with a pleasant stretch on your plushy walls.

You rose your hips carefully, still adjusting to your current position, sliding off half of his length, and sank back down onto his cock, providing such desired friction. You watched his adam’s apple bob as Tom swallowed heavily, and you repeated your actions a few more times, until you found a comfortable rhythm, impaling yourself over and over again on his steady cock.

Your hands came to rest on Tom’s chest, supporting yourself against his body, back arching at the pleasant feeling of his dick grazing all the right spots inside of your throbbing pussy. Soft moans spilled out of your lips as one of Tom’s hands went down to play with your clit, skillfully circling and massaging swollen nub with the tips of his fingers. Your head lolled back, a loud cry of your husband’s name rolled off your tongue as you quickened the pace of your thrusts, rocking against him so passionately.

Tom rested one hand on your nape, putting a bit of pressure into his touch, indicating for you to lean down. You did so, lowering your torso until your chest was pressed flush against his; your lips found his in a matter of moments, connecting in a fervid kiss, his tongue slithering into your mouth, making you gasp in surprise.

Your loud moan was swallowed by Tom’s greedy mouth as he unexpectedly thrusted his hips up into your perfect squelching pussy from underneath; his free hand was gripping onto your waist tightly, fixating you into this position. You broke your kiss, burying your flushed face into the crook of his neck as his hips picked up a quick pace, fucking your pussy raw with his throbbing cock.

- Yeah? You like that, you little minx? - Tom rasped into your ear, his lips brushed against your ear shell, making you tremble slightly. You nodded your head ‘yes’ fervently, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over the side of his neck.

- I love it so much, Tommy. Please, don’t stop, please, please, - you babbled out incoherently, your mind hazed and barely working from intense pleasure rolling through your body in waves.

Tom slid his hand from your nape and along your spine, all the way down to your jiggly ass, especially relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh with his fingers. The hard, smooth strokes of his cock inside your slicked pussy caused ecstasy to well up inside you, your body prickling, almost painfully, in foretaste of a nearing orgasm.

Your hands grabbed on Tom’s biceps, you could feel his muscles flexing underneath your touch. You bit down onto his shoulder, eliciting a quiet hiss from the man underneath you, knowing how much he disliked when you left hickeys in such obvious places. His hand left your waist to slide in between your pressed bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles onto it, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

- Tom, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m gonna cum, please don’t stop, - you mumbled into his skin, hot and bothered, and you felt him nod at your words, his hips picking up faster pace, snapping loudly against your pliant body.

White stars hit your vision, as you felt your orgasm rippling through your trembling form, setting every nerve in your body on fire in intense pleasure. You didn’t register all the moans and pleadings slipping past your lips as you babbled in your euphoria, your quivering pussy along with dirty words only brought Tom closer to his own release.

Tom followed you soon enough, cumming with a groan and a low moan of your name, dumping his thick load deep inside of you. You laid rigid atop him, both of you trying to catch your breaths, listening to the soft whisper of wind and sea. Surprisingly, Tom was the one who broke the comfortable silence:

- A few more moments and I’d go deaf on one ear, - Tom commented and you didn’t understand what he was talking about. It took you a few moments to realize that all this time you were moaning and screaming uncontrollably mere centimeters away from his ear, surely causing a lot of discomfort, especially knowing how sensitive man was to any sort of noises.

You chuckle airily, muttering quiet ‘sorry, darling’ under your breath, your hand going up to comb your fingers through his silky, now knotted, hair, massaging his scalp lovingly.

Dragging Tom all the way here was definitely a good decision.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is basically the only thing that keeps writers creating new content

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gogh-with-the-flow · 7 months

Text

Blood in the Wine-7

Chapter Seven: Mead

A/N: Thank you all for your love, patience, and encouragement. Life has its ups and downs, but one thing remains certain- I fucking love vampires

Word count: 4k

Warnings: Mean Soap! No smut in this chapter, just general spookiness and some suggestive language.

Song: Strangelove by Depeche Mode

MASTERLIST, CH1, CH2, CH3, CH4, CH5, CH6

---

Two pairs of eyes were fixated on you through the crack in the door. Gaz’s lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but Price waved his hand and the door slammed shut just inches from your face. You stood panting in the doorway. You couldn’t hear them say anything through the door anymore.

Did you really just see what you saw? If the wetness in your underwear was anything to judge by, then the answer was yes. Your pulse was racing in your ears like a river. It was so loud, in fact, that you couldn’t even hear Soap walk up behind you until his hand was wrapped around your upper arm and he yanked you backwards away from the door. You stumbled backwards, barely managing to keep your feet under you. You shouted in surprise, finally snapping out of your stupor.

“You’re fucking shameless, aren’t you? Just can’t fucking get enough?” he shoved you away from him roughly, and you had to catch yourself on the wood paneling walls. His voice was growling and vicious. You looked up at him and your breath caught in your throat.

Dark, jagged gashes cut through his face; a particularly deep-looking one ran down over his left eye. The scabs were black, and they pulled at the soft skin of his cheeks as he spoke.

“I didn’t- I didn’t mean to-”

“What? You didn’t mean to do what? Didn’t mean to sneak a peek at Price’s cock down Gaz’s throat?”

“No!” You took a step back as he took one toward you.

“Or you didn’t mean to let Ghost tear up my face like this?”

“No!” He kept advancing on you down the hall. Your back hit the wall.

"Then what? Huh? Look at me!" He said standing over you. "Look what you did to my face."

"I didn't do anything!" You pleaded. You could feel your throat closing up around the lump you tried to come down, and your vision blurred with salty tears.

"You did! All because you couldn't follow the damn rules. You should be grateful I threw myself in his way." His voice was lower now, colder. "Because if I hadn't, if Ghost had gotten his hands on you," he shrugged, "we'd be out looking for a new familiar."

You blinked up at him, hot tears dropping from your cheeks onto your collar, and his eyes followed the movement.

"Could take a bite out of you right now, couldn't I? Then I'd be right as rain again. Heal up nice and quick…" He leaned closer. Your breath hitched as you felt the heat of his blow over your pulse point.

“You’ve already had your turn with her, Soap,” said an admonishing voice just a meter away. Price stepped closer with an unspoken air of authority, and Soap stepped back in submission, throwing you one last resentful glare. “You’re dismissed, Soap,” he said with a touch more force. If looks could kill, you’d have been dead where you stood, and Soap would have been the culprit. His icy eyes chilled you to the core, but he finally turned his back to you and swiftly disappeared around the corner again.

You sniffled quietly to yourself. You hadn’t meant for it to happen. Not the incident of the past night, not Soap’s injuries, and certainly, you never meant to catch a peek of Gaz and Price’s… intimate moment. You never mean to be a less-than-willing ward of this manor, but that was old news by now. There was nothing more you could do. You’d agreed to the pact, and somewhere inside you, you felt that your actions with Gaz last night only cemented your place here. Your role to play had been decided.

A touch to your face shocked you out of your head and you flinched.

“Easy, love,” Price cooed to you, standing so close now. His thumb brushed your cheek, interrupting the wet path your tears had made. “Goddamn MacTavish keeps making you cry. I’ll have to have a proper conversation with him, eh?” He held your face so gently that it was hard to believe the man was capable of such cruelty you had witnessed the night before. His tenderness almost made you forget his utter hypocrisy.

You leaned away but his strong hands followed you, keeping you close to him. He studied your face. He always seemed to be looking at you with a strange curiosity. His eyes followed the freshest tear down your face with the sharpness of a cat watching a mouse. You did your best to compose yourself, but being in such close proximity made catching your breath quite difficult. Price wasn’t the same soft comfort that Gaz was. Instead, he was a sturdy wall, and you found yourself leaning into the stability of him all on your own.

He pulled you closer to himself and kissed the tear away. His lips were soft between the bushiness of his mustache and beard, which tickled and poked you ever so slightly. He licked his lips as he stood back with a satisfied smile.

“Now, no more tears, darling,” he said as you stared up in shock. “Come, follow me. I’ve got something to show you.” He didn’t wait for you to follow; instead he took your wrist in your hand and pulled you along, leaving you no choice but to follow. His grip was one of iron, yet wasn’t hard enough to bruise. Soft, but unyielding. He led you down the main staircase. The cobwebs were still hanging heavy on the grand chandelier as you passed underneath.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, following him through the quiet halls, falling into step with him.

“What for?” he asked. You were too ashamed to look him in the eye, but you could’ve sworn you heard that damn smirk in his voice. He was going to make you admit it, wasn’t he? You wouldn’t- you wouldn’t! But as you lied to yourself, you could feel your composure crumbling. There was something about Price that made you want to obey… to submit.

“For… eavesdropping,” you relented, bowing your head lower.

“Eavesdropping? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” he joked. You knew you were caught, and so did he. “And did you enjoy the conversation?” he teased. He squeezed your hand. When had your hand slipped so easily into his? “You should know now to knock before entering a room. There are things far more sinister than that to be found in this manor.”

“Maybe you should lock your doors, then,” you bit back, but there was hardly any venom in your words. You could feel your face positively burning at the way Price tiptoed around the fact that you saw him cum down Gaz’s throat, that he did so while staring you down.

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to hide anything,” he said as the two of you stopped outside the double doors of the library. “Maybe I wanted you to see.” Your eyes stayed fixated on the old oak doors. You felt heat prickling at your brow and his beard sweeping over your ear. He pushed the doors open. The hinges creaked from years, maybe decades of unuse.

You coughed as a surge of dust filled your lungs, but when it cleared, you stepped into a beautiful and spacious room, walls all lined with rows and rows of books, many of them looking utterly ancient. A rolling ladder was pushed into the farthest corner, and floor-to-ceiling windows lit up the entirety of the room with glowing golden sunbeams, making the speckles of dust more resemble fairy dust. You stepped into the room and trailed your hand along the carved wood of the back of an old velvet armchair. It was probably a vibrant purple once. Small round end tables were scattered about next to the various sitting areas, most covered with linens, but you were drawn to the reading nook at the foot of the wall of windows. The earthy, grounding smell of aged paper saturated your senses. A thin layer of dust covered every surface, and you imagined what the room must have looked like at its pinnacle.

Price watched you with a sincere smile as you explored the open space of the library. He enjoyed the wonder and elation in your eyes. As you scanned the shelves, fingers tracing old spine after old spine, he picked three small, unassuming books from a shelf and waited patiently for your attention to return to him.

Once you made a thorough round of the library, you wandered back to Price.

“This is incredible,” you said with a wistful smile. “When you said you had a library, I wasn’t expecting this. Some of these books look like they’re centuries old!”

“They are,” he says proudly. “I curated this collection myself throughout my first life, and continue to do so in this one. Whenever I’m able to, that is.” He lifted the books in his hands and nodded to them. “But this is what I really wanted to show you.” You looked down and read the old, simple cover, the canvas yellowed and the ink faded, but the title was clear as day.

“Frankenstein.”

“Gaz mentioned you liked the classics.” He let you take the three volumes from his hands. You held the delicate books with reverence. You were worried they would fall apart if you breathed too hard, so you held your breath in your chest.

“These are… how old are they?” you whispered.

“First editions.” Your eyes snapped up to his in bewilderment. “Got them at a little bookshop one snowy January afternoon. It was a fascinating read, so I kept them, found a spot in here for them. Bloody good thing I did, eh?”

You were too stunned to speak, completely transfixed by the aged canvas and the soft, yellow pages. Price circled around you as you started to wonder if you should be handling these with gloves. You barely noticed the heavy presence of his chest so close to your back.

"Big brute that everyone's afraid of… but he's really just scared himself. Can't control his own strength," he said, placing his hands on your hips. "Reminds me of someone I know," he muttered, and your body tensed at the feeling of his breath on your neck. You gasped at the feeling of his coarse hair teasing your skin, and subconsciously tilted your head to allow him room. You felt his chest swell with a deep breath, strong, firm pectorals pressing against your shoulder blades as he inhaled your scent. You closed your eyes to prepare for the inevitable bite you were sure was to come, although you didn’t know how much you could physically offer him after the events of the previous night. But the bite never came.

“I had a very interesting conversation with Kyle this morning. He pleaded your case,” Price spoke into your neck, prickly lips tickling you with each word. “Said you were all worn out from last night, all shaken up from your little excursion outside… among other things.” You felt your face heat up as he once again alluded to your time with Gaz. “He asked me to give you the day to recover,” his palm moved up your back and brushed over the still-sensitive scratches through the fabric, “to let your back heal all the way before we start opening up new wounds.” He pressed his lips and face further into your neck and inhaled deeply, smelling the blood that pumped rhythmically just beneath the surface.

“He was very persuasive. He’s quite good with his mouth, wouldn’t you agree?” he teased, and you could hear the soft laugh resting in the chamber of his chest. You shuddered at the memory of Gaz’s tongue licking through you, his eyes looking up at you from between your legs, his soft, plush lips kissing and sucking your clit. Price hummed at the way your breath hitched just from the memories he dug up with his own suggestion. With a final deep breath of your scent, he stated, “Take the day. I’m a patient man. I’ve been around a long time, dear. I can wait one more day to taste you again.” He pressed a final kiss to your tender skin, and you had to hold your breath to stop the quiet whimper that lodged itself in your throat.

He stepped back, although reluctantly, and you listened to his footsteps distance himself from you, stopping at the door.

“Enjoy the books,” he said, and then left you alone in the library, locking the door behind him. Your heart was racing, and your underwear was notably wetter than it was before.

—

It took you a good while of deep breathing while standing in the same place that Price left you in order to completely calm yourself down. Once your heart was beating at an acceptable pace, you settled yourself onto the reading nook at the windows after wiping the dust from the aged leather seats. You tried your best to forget the sensation of Price’s lips at your neck, the tenderness of his kiss and the roughness of his facial hair. You brought your knees close to your chest and focused instead, on the first volume, and on not opening it too wide, lest you crack the spine. Before long, you had lost yourself in the world that the yellowed pages laid out for you.

“Common misconception,” a familiar voice called out to you, making you jump. “But Frankenstein is actually the doctor, not the monster,” Gaz finished with a sheepish smile.

“You seem to be making a habit of interrupting my reading with useless trivia,” you said, closing the book slowly and setting it on the windowsill beside you. You glanced outside and noticed the sun was higher in the sky. You’d been reading for hours.

“Sorry, just figured you might be hungry. Made you lunch.” He sat beside you and placed a tray in your lap: coffee made the way you like, and a salad with grilled chicken.

“Thank you.” You gave him a soft smile.

“I used to like to cook,” he began, his gaze distant, “back before, well, you know. It’s nice to be able to do it again, even if I can't eat it.” He shrugged his shoulders, and the two of you sat quietly together for a moment. You sipped your coffee.

“Thank you, again. For talking with Price. And I'm sorry for…” Gaz cut you off with a laugh.

“It’s alright, don’t mention it.” he fixed his eyes on yours, more playful than embarrassed. “Seriously, don’t mention it.” Both of you laughed, the tension relieved. He placed a hand on your knee. “How are you feeling? Not too sore, I hope. Your back- I mean! The, er, scratches on your back.”

“They’re a little tender,” you answered, breaking eye contact with a small chuckle. “I should be all better by tomorrow, thanks to you and your magic tongue.” you nudge him with your foot and he elbows you back.

“Yeah, you like my tongue, don’t you?”

“Yeah, so does Price, apparently,” you say, matching his smirk. He winces and rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back against the window. “So, what? You’re all together in some kind of… quadrouple?” you asked. He shrugs again.

“I guess so. All we really have is each other. Or at least,” he rolled his head to the side to look at you, “until you came along.”

“Yeah, well… I didn’t have a whole lot of say in that,” you murmured, and his smile faltered. He sat up, then, looking down at his shoes. He patted your knee and then stood up.

“Eat your food.”

“Gaz…”

“I’ll be back in a few hours with dinner. I’ll give you your space.” You called after him again, but he was already out the door, locking it again behind himself.

By the time he had returned, you had finished your lunch and the first volume of Frankenstein. You’d placed the book back onto its empty space on the bookshelf. The sun was hanging just over the trees, and the sky had taken on an orangy tint at the edges. Gaz had dropped off a single-serve premade lasagna with only a few words exchanged as he collected your dirty dishes, giving you a tight smile and a squeeze on your shoulder, and locked you in again.

The third time he visited the library, the sun was behind the trees, casting long shadows across the expansive lawn. You found it more difficult to focus on reading. The darker it got, the deeper the feeling of being watched ate at you. You weren’t sure if your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you thought you caught movement in the woods; large, dark masses shifting and pacing, weaving through the thick trunks of old trees. You didn’t make it very far through the second volume.

The click of the lock caught your attention. Gaz entered with a stiff back and squared shoulders. You stood to meet him, and he drew the thick curtains over the wide windows. You left the remaining two books on the cushions. The two of you stood together in the dark library, and he stayed at arm’s length. You wanted him closer. When Gaz turned to you, his eyes glinted red and green in the low light. Your breath caught in your throat.

“You ready to go upstairs?” he asked. You nodded your head and let him guide you back out into the house. “Stay close,” he said with a hand on your back. The lights were on all through the house, but the warm yellow light seemed not to reach the corners. The cobwebs muted the glowing bulbs, making every shadow stretch out to you, like claws on an outstretched hand. The two of you walked briskly through the main hall, and when you hurried past the conservatory, you saw something large lingering outside the window, but the reflections of the lamps inside obstructed the view.

“Keep moving, Gaz told you. “They can’t hurt you if you’re inside.”

“What are they?” you asked in an anxious whisper.

“Just keep going,” he repeated, his face pinched into almost a sneer as his red eyes glanced out the windows, once again glinting in the light like a cat on the prowl. He ushered you up the back stairs, and once you were safely inside your bedroom, he bolted the door.

“What are those things?” you asked once again. Then, your head whipped to the barred window as a howl pierced the quiet of the dusk. Your blood ran cold and your breath stuttered. It wasn’t like the hoots and screams of coyotes back home. It wasn’t even a familiar call of a lonely dog. There was something deeper, something dark and primal in that sound. It spoke to a fear deep within you, something ancestral that made your skin sting with pinpricks.

“Get ready for bed,” Gaz said sternly. His eyes, too, were fixated on the growing darkness seeping through the window.

“Gaz,” you pleaded, needing answers.

“They’re just trying to scare you, they can’t hurt you in here.” When you made no move, he looked at you with a softer face. “You’re safe, I promise.” He nudged you closer to the bathroom. “I’ll watch the door,” he offers with a reassuring smile. You let him push you into the other room, your bare feet padding on the tile, but you left the door cracked slightly. You needed to hear him there, to know he was still there with you.

The water from the shower was loud enough to drown out the howling outside, and it gave you the smallest drop of peace of mind. You played Gaz’s words back in your head. They couldn’t hurt you in here. You took your time, and Gaz waited patiently for you to emerge wrapped in a fluffy towel. He smiled to himself and turned around to give you your privacy to dress yourself.

You settled yourself into bed and waited for him to join you, but he reached for the door instead.

“Where are you going?” you asked, sitting back up. He turned back around to face you, looking confused and concerned.

“I just thought… you’d want to be alone.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well… what you said earlier. About not having a choice? I just thought that, maybe, you’d just want to be alone.” He looked down at his feet. It was quiet between you two, the kind of quiet that only came after midnight. The kind of quiet when the whole earth stood still and even the crickets slept.

“It’s true,” you started, and Gaz’s arms tensed. “I didn’t have a choice. You didn’t give me one.” His hands curled into themselves, balling into fists; not in anger toward you, but toward himself, toward the hunger he’d let turn him into more monster than man. “But I’m choosing you, now. Gaz-” another howl interrupted the silence in your room and both of you glanced at the window. You reminded yourself that it was barred with iron, and for the first time you were thankful for it.

“Stay with me,” you whispered to him across the room with a quiver in your breathy voice. “Please.”

Gaz didn’t need to hear another word from you. He crossed the room to your bed in three long strides. In that moment, he knew that he’d do just about anything for you if you only asked him. In seconds, he had his arms around you, wrapping you in the duvet.

“Yeah,” he said soothingly. “Yeah, I’ll stay.” He was paradoxically warm. A cadaver heated not by his own blood, but by yours. A scarlet silk thread tying you two together. “I’ll stay.” He reached to turn out your bedside lamp and covered you two in a blanket of darkness. The howling continued, but Gaz was there. They couldn’t hurt you in here.

As time passed, you watched the shadows of moonlight glide over your walls from where your head laid on Gaz’s chest, and eventually, the clouds covered the beaming white moon, and the howling stopped. You focused on Gaz’s breathing. You didn’t know if he could sleep. You thought he was still awake, though. You sure couldn’t sleep. A question on your mind nagged at you, nudging you awake whenever the waves of sleep got close enough to wash over you.

"Gaz?" You asked into the darkness, your voice the only sound in the nighttime. "Were you ever really my friend?" Your head rose on his chest as he took a breath. "Or was it all just a ruse to get me here?”

Gaz didn’t answer right away, and for a moment you started to wonder if creatures of the night really did sleep like you did, and if your words fell on deaf ears after all. But then he spoke, his voice low and uncertain of himself.

"Talking to you late at night on the phone was the first time I felt a connection since I became… what I am. The way you laughed, the way you told your stories to me, like I was actually there with you. I wanted to be beside you, I wanted to spend time with you. I think maybe it was the phone calls, because for the first time, I was talking to a human without hunger, without thirst. Just listening and being listened to. The days that we talked, just talked… I almost remembered how it felt to be alive again.” Gaz’s hand held yours over his stomach, his thumb tracing over your knuckles tenderly.

“I don't know if I'm capable of love,” he said, his voice heavier than you’d heard it before. “After being dead so long, the heart atrophies… in a way that’s more than just physical.” He sighed, and it sounded like he had a weight much heavier than your head on his chest. “I'm sorry I can't spare you from what I am, what we all are. I’m sorry that we’ve taken so much from you already, and we’ll just keep taking. I'm sorry that I’m not what you thought I was." You absorbed his words. His answers finally gave you some closure, though it wasn’t exactly what you wanted. His voice allowed the waves of sleep to draw you in deeper.

"The house seems brighter since you've been here,” he told you, his voice carrying you like a raft in the sea. “The floors creak when you walk. I didn't realize how much I'd missed that sound."

---

Tags:

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Rough Day

Kishibe x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Summary: You know the perfect way to take care of your boyfriend when he’s had a rough day at work.

cw: established relationship, Kishibe is 50 while reader is younger (20s, 30s, even 40s, whatever you want), smut - blowjob, cream pie, vaginal sex (cowgirl), dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, princess, slut), multiple orgasms. Author's Notes: Another short smutty one-shot about one of my fictional boyfriends having a bad day, made better through sex (of course). Enjoy! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are ALWAYS appreciated! Thanks for reading! Banner made by @cafekitsune!

When Kishibe arrives home from work, he is tired. It doesn’t matter that he’s gotten used to this over the decades; killing devils is always exhausting. Plus, being over the hill doesn’t help either. There are aches and pains he suffers through more so than he did in his youth. He never wishes for a time machine, but sometimes, he wants to feel young and spry again, if just for a moment.

And that’s where you come in.

He never expects it from you, although you always manage to know exactly when he needs it. You’ve been together long enough to understand when he’s in need of some serious rest and relaxation, the kind that only you can provide to him. He drags his feet through the door, quietly grunting as he slowly slips out of his shoes, barely speaking a word. He stands behind you on the couch, leaning down to give you a peck on the cheek, draping his coat on the arm rest beside you. Still quiet, he heads directly into the bedroom, the soft thud of him collapsing onto the mattress making you smile. You shut the TV off and follow him in, seeing him splayed out at the end of the bed, legs hanging off the edge, feet flat on the carpet. An exasperated sigh leaves his lips.

“Rough day?” you ask, amused at the dramatics.

He simply grunts in response. Very rough day, you think.

You step towards the bed, looking at him, smirking. “Anything I can do to make you feel better?”

He always tries to downplay it, but his eyes widen ever so slightly, excited. “No.”

“Are you sure about that?” You kneel in front of him, spreading his legs apart and positioning yourself between. “You sure you don’t want me to take care of you?”

Reaching for his waistband, you start to unbuckle his belt. He hums, low and gravely from his throat. “Do you want to take care of me?” Kishibe is always too ashamed to ask for it initially. He’d rather you offer it.

Feeling generous, you answer, “I do. I want to make you feel good.” Unzipping his pants, you hook your fingers through the belt loops, shimmying it down his legs until they’re at his ankles. There’s an evident bulge in his boxer briefs, tight against the fabric, aching to be free, to be touched. You place your hand gently to his balls, massaging him. “Fuck,” he moans.

You slide along the outline of his erection, teasing it between your fingers. He props himself on his elbows, watching you work your magic. The same tired expression in his face, except for eyes flickering with lust. Slipping beneath the band, you tug at his underwear, his boner flopping against his abdomen. At this, he sits up, leaning back on his wrists, looking down at you with his dick twitching in front of your face. You gaze at him, grinning as you stroke him. He groans, eyes never leaving you, loving the way his stiff cock is snug in your fist, jerking him off exactly the way he likes it. You’re always so good to him.

After a few pumps, you lean closer, grazing your lips at the tip, sticky with precum. Spreading it like a fucking gloss. You taste it, enjoying the salty bitterness that you’ve indulged in plenty of times before. With your lips surrounding him, you sink down, taking him into your mouth. He sucks in a breath, resisting the urge to thrust deep into your throat as you bob up and down on his shaft.

“Fuck, princess,” he mutters, knuckles curled into the sheets. “Feels so fucking good.”

You hum happily, plunging further to the base, nose buried in his groin, chin brushing his balls. His tip tickles the back of your throat, swallowing around him until there’s tears welling in your eyes and your gag reflex activates. You pull off quickly to catch your breath, a thick string of saliva connected from his cockhead to your lip, him in your fist again.

He shifts forward, reaching towards you to brush away the small tear at the corner of your eye. “So good to me,” he whispers. “My perfect little slut.” His thumb grazes your lips, then slips in entirely. You suck on it as he presses on your tongue, swiping it across wet heat. You continue to stroke him, dick firm in your hold, almost at his climax. When you increase the pace, he stops you, pulling his thumb out.

“Rub your pussy on me. I want to come like that,” he huffs, scooting up the bed. He kicks off the slacks pooled at his ankles, now completely naked from below the waist, tossing his loose tie to the floor and unbuttoning his dress shirt halfway. You strip out of your pants and underwear, crawling over to straddle him, rubbing your throbbing pussy along his shaft.

“Just like that,” he says, palms resting behind his head, enjoying the show. “Rub your clit on it. I know you want to.”

You grab his dick, flicking it on your bud, moaning at the sensation. Your hole flutters, desperate to be filled. How easy it would be to slip it inside, to be fucked rough and fast. But you know what he wants. He’s always like this when he’s stressed. You grind against him, waiting for your cue, his hips bucking, breaths shallow, abdomen clenched tight. He’s so close, and you’re so needy.

“I’m gonna come, baby. You know what to do,” he growls, staring at you. You shift above him, positioning his cock at your slick entrance, sliding it in about halfway with your hand wrapped around the base, stroking him. Seconds later, he swears loudly, spurting his hot load inside you, filling you up.

A normal man would be finished after this. This is basic biology, human anatomy. It’s nearly impossible for someone to remain erect during their refractory period, right? Isn’t this what every lame ex-boyfriend of yours has claimed? Well, Kishibe is no ordinary man. Besides being the world’s best devil hunter, your boyfriend is also a fucking sex god. This is just a preview. An appetizer. The warm-up. He’s far from being done with you. Very far from it.

Stuffed with his load, he starts thrusting, cock even harder, fucking his cum deep inside you. “Touch yourself,” he demands, grip tight on your hips, guiding you up and down. “Love seeing you come on my cock.”

You reach between you, dipping into the creamy arousal smeared on his lap, rubbing your swollen clit with slick fingers until you climax. Body sweltering with passionate heat, you hoist your shirt off, unclasping your bra to free your breasts. He squeezes one with his hand, pinching at your nipple, causing you to cry out, “Oh fuck!”

He nods with a smirk, feet flat on the mattress, bullying his way into your tight pussy. “You’re my nasty slut tonight, aren’t you? My own little sex toy. Love ruining this perfect pussy.”

You bounce on him, a dumb expression on your face, salivating at the sides of your mouth. He’s buried inside you, fucking your sweet spot ruthlessly, steadfast on making you come again. His body moves in a frenzy, completely different from how he was moments ago. The promise of sex flicked a switch in him. You always know how to bring life back into him, especially after an exhausting day like today.

His hands slide to your back, guiding you to his chest. “Kiss me.” And of course you do, lips smacking, tongues licking at each other, sloppy and fervent. He slows his thrusts, savoring how seamlessly he fits inside you, shaped perfectly around him. Gliding to your ass cheeks, spreading them apart as he rails you. Your face is nuzzled into his neck, sucking at the skin to create love marks. You come once more without telling him, though he figures it out anyways. Always so observant and keen to even the smallest details about you.

“I know you came again. Making a fucking mess on my cock. I love it,” he teases, giving you a harsh spank on your bottom. “Give me more.”

You keep taking it, cock pumping in and out of you smoothly, creamy and slick with arousal. Eventually, you orgasm a third time, squeezing around him, body spent above him. Still, he doesn’t stop, not until he spills every last drop of his cum inside you, until his balls are empty, and he has no more of himself to give you.

He manages to keep it up for several more minutes before he’s pushed past the edge, shooting thick spurts of cum all over your pussy walls. He coils his arms around you in a tight embrace, creamy mess flowing out of your fluttering hole and onto his lap. A few beats of silence pass, then, with a satisfied sigh, he says, “Thank you. I needed that.”

You snuggle closer to him, smiling. “I’m always happy to help.”

He kisses the top of your head, inhaling the familiar scent he adores so much. “I love you, princess.”

“I love you too, Kishibe.”

#kishibe x reader #kishibe smut #kishibe csm #csm kishibe #kishibe x y/n #kishibe x you #csm smut #chainsaw man smut #chainsaw man kishibe #kishibe headcanons #kishibe brainrot

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elixirfromthestars · 8 months

Text

A Rainy Rendezvous

Pairing: Steve Rogers x CIA!Reader

Summary: On a rainy night during a mission in Poland, you "bump into" someone who held a very important place in your heart in the past.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning(s): brief mentions of CIA operatives / a bit of angst / a sprinkle of fluff / the one that got away vibes / mentions of being followed / mentions of a gun / stays within the marvel guidelines of action + fighting

requested by @espinosaurusrexex

a/n: Hello everyone! ❤️ Thank you for being so patient with me on these requests! ❤️❤️ Life has been very hectic lately between starting an internship, being a senior in college, and my dog passing away...it's been a lot. 💔 I’ve mentioned this before, but many of the requests are close to being done. I only have a few final touches and edits to add, so look forward to that in these upcoming weeks! ✨

sequel drabble 🤎 // birthday bingo masterlist 🤎 // main masterlist 🤎

“ I’ll check out the other location tomorrow. For now, I’m calling it a night,” you hung up the call, the simple click relieving some of the tension in your shoulders. Most days as an agent were tedious, but today had been another extreme of it entirely. Your informant double-crossed you, causing your undercover identity to be potentially compromised.

You spent the majority of the day chasing dead-end leads as to where your informant had gone to hide away. The soles of your feet ached and the rainy chill of the night was bringing in no added comfort. You buttoned up your denim jacket, stopping the icy wind from seeping itself further into your chest.

You walked the unfamiliar streets of Kraków in the general direction of the hotel you had been stationed in. As exhausted as you were, it was your first time in Poland and it was small opportunities like this one where you could take in the beauty of the countries you worked in.

After your wasted efforts of the day, you weren’t going to waste a second of this.

You weren’t alone on your nightly stroll. Locals and tourists alike bustled about, enjoying what the city had to offer—despite the weather.

You passed by multiple local businesses and restaurants before stopping at one of the stalls near St. Mary’s Basilica. An elderly couple was selling braided bread and mulled wine. Your Polish needed some work, but you knew enough to keep up in conversation with the couple.

Their presence was the right kind of warmth for a night like this. They bickered in a way only old married couples did. The kind of back-and-forth friendly matches you can only have with the love of your life. Little simplistic arguments ending in tight hugs and peppered kisses.

They reminded you of the time you had loved so intensely to the point of considering—for the first time in your life—growing old with someone. You pushed the memories away, deciding there was no need to revisit ghosts from the past. You could do that at some other time.

You excused yourself, taking your bread and mulled wine, and continued your route in the opposite direction of where your hotel was located. The saltiness of the bread dissolved on your tongue while the mulled wine left you in delightful confusion as you tried to decipher the ingredients within it. There were hints of apple cider, cinnamon, and a citrusy fruit.

You decided to enjoy your treats and what you had left of this peaceful night while you still could.

In your field of work, being on high alert every second of an operation is crucial. In many instances, it could mean life or death for any of the parties involved. The best agents in the organization could detect danger from the most peculiar places.

You were one of them.

You realized you were being followed the moment you stepped into St.Mary’s Basilica. Within the shadows of the night, there was one in particular that stayed trained on you. Since the uncertainties arose over whether or not your undercover identity had been compromised, the person following you could be anyone.

As to not raise suspicion, you kept your pace the same and continued to savor your treats as if you were any other tourist. Internally, your alarms were ringing and you were trying to locate the best place to have an advantage over your pursuer, so you wouldn’t end up being cornered by them in case a confrontation occurred.

The rain was only but a drizzle now, and the moon was high in the sky. The more you walked the fewer people there were around you. Many of the businesses you had passed earlier were now closed and you realized it was likely you might end up in a position where you were left alone in the night with the mysterious stranger hot on your trail.

This stranger was now using the roofs of the buildings across the street to continue his pursuit of you. You had to admit that was clever of him and if you had been any other agent you might not have noticed.

Your only option now was to go on the offense before the man—you had concluded was a man from his broad silhouette—ever got a chance to.

You discarded the remnants of your Polish delicacies in a nearby trashcan before dashing over to the other street, underneath the building the stranger was standing on. You knew he could either maneuver his way to the tops of the buildings on the other side of the street or decide to meet you at the bottom.

You were hoping he would meet you at the bottom.

The building you had run to had an intricate pathway aligned with arches all across it. You used the columns of the arches to make your way to the side of the building where you would be able to get a better view of which direction the man would decide to go. If you used the shadows from the columns made by the city lights and the moon, you would be able to sneak up on the man and have the upper hand.

Of course, the gun hidden on the inside of your jacket would help with that as well.

You bent down and angled your body so you had a clear view of the street while still keeping yourself hidden. Adrenaline began to make its way through your body giving you the added energy you would need in the fight.

You concentrated on the noises around you, causing you to pick up on incoming footsteps. They were light, letting you know this person must be highly trained for them to know how to mask their steps. If it weren’t for the sporadic puddles on the ground from the rain, you might not have heard them.

You weren’t sure what organization you were dealing with, but you knew you had to be as careful and calculated as you could. Due to the possibility of your undercover identity being compromised, the person after you could be from one of many organizations you had crossed in the past.

The steps were inching closer, and yet, there was no sign of the man. You could have sworn you chose the best location to spot him, but it seems you were mistaken. Your only choice now was to concentrate on the direction his footsteps resounded from and pinpoint his location with that.

From the sound of it, he was just to the left of you and merely a few feet away. With every inching step he took, you realized it was now or never to act.

“ Don’t move any closer! Identify yourself!” You sprung up, pointing your gun directly at the man. He was using the shadows of the night to hide himself as he approached you, so it was difficult to distinguish his features from where you stood.

The man froze, his hands slowly raising to a peaceful stance, “ I figured I shouldn’t have snuck up on you, Y/n.” You faltered for a second at the sound of his voice and your name dropping from his lips. It was as familiar as a déjà vu was. In your heart, there was a memory of it and yet you couldn’t pinpoint when was the last time you had heard it.

Perhaps it might have been when he broke your heart.

Or maybe when you had broken his.

“Steve?” His name dropped from your lips in a whisper. A part of you thought you were losing it. Had you been so lonely these last couple of years that you were now projecting your last lover onto random strangers?

The man stepped into the light confirming what your heart already knew. The man who had been hiding in the shadows and following you was your ex-boyfriend Steve Rogers. Although, this Steve in front of you was foreign to you.

He had grown out his beard and his hair, which was now a darker shade of blonde than you remembered. From what you could see, his face and hands were adorned with new scars and scratches untouched by your hands. There was also a gloominess behind his blue eyes he couldn’t hide away.

He dawned on a black leather jacket as opposed to the brown leather one you were used to. You had borrowed that jacket many times in the past as it became a comfort to you whenever he was away on a mission. It always smelled of his sandalwood aftershave and the smoky bergamot cologne you had given him on the first Christmas you spent together.

It became his signature scent and you loved it.

However, the Steve in front of you resembled nothing of the Steve you once loved. How much had his life changed in the years since the two of you broke up? How much had it changed him?

“ Hey…it's been a while,” he spoke up cautiously, glancing over at the weapon in your hand before looking into your eyes. You lowered it slowly, feeling as though you were in a dream, “ Yeah, it has. Last I heard you were in big trouble with the United Nations. Technically, I should be arresting you right now.” You said the last part in a playful tone hoping to ease the tension between you.

The night seemed to have gotten colder ever since he stepped in front of you.

Thankfully, easing into things was the right call as a small smile appeared on his lips, “ Technically, you're right, but you would have to catch me first,” he pointed out.

“ Oh, that would definitely not be a problem,” you boasted.

“ Half of the Avengers tried and failed,” he informed you, holding back what looked like a somber yet smug expression.

“ Yeah, but I’ve got some tricks up my sleeve not even Tony would think of,” you stated confidently, placing your gun back into a pocket on the inside of your jacket. Now that you no longer needed it, you didn’t want it to hinder the pleasant mood that was now finding its place between you.

“ I’m sure you do,” he responded, a fond look adorning his features. You were sure you had a similar expression, as you ruminated on past memories of playful exchanges with Steve. Many ended in far more romantic exchanges than this conversation would.

Getting past what once was, you needed your curiosity satisfied,“ What brings you to Poland anyway? And why were you following me? I don’t know how they did it in the 1940s, but in modern times we use a thing called a cellphone when we want to contact an ex,” you teased.

He laughed at that, a sound you recognized all too well. It made you realize that although the Steve in front of you was different, you still knew him. Deep down he still had to be the man you had fallen in love with.

There was a conflict of emotions stirring within your heart as a result.

“ Okay, I get it. Like I said, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you. I just thought you wouldn’t want to see me,” he confessed before continuing, “ Those of us who didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords are on the run. We’ve been moving to a new city every few weeks. Right now we’ve been stationed in Kraków for two and are relocating to Tarnów next week. Sam told me you were on a C.I.A. mission here and I had to come see you before we left,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head in a sheepish manner.

You couldn’t blame him for coming to see you. At this point, you would have to hold yourself back from “bumping into him” in Tarnów.

“ Sam told you? How did he know?” You asked, still not seeing the full picture. Steve cleared his throat before speaking, “ Vision was a big help with that. Between him and Sam, they were able to rework an old laptop to pick up on different signals and monitor specific ones we chose. It was by chance he picked up on a phone call you were having with an agent named Clarke a few days ago,” he explained, causing your confusion to dissipate and in its place discomfort made a home.

Knowing that what Steve said was true, that meant that Sam and Steve had heard the very awkward and uncomfortable conversation you had with your mission partner Agent Clarke a few days ago.

Clarke had taken an interest in you ever since you were first partnered up on a mission a few months back. You never had taken a similar interest in him and always kept things professional. Unfortunately for you, this caused Clarke to think you were “playing hard to get” and this ensued a plethora of attempts to charm you.

His latest attempt was a few days ago where he insisted on your undercover identities being a newly wedded couple having their honeymoon across Europe. You politely declined and were grateful your mission supervisor disagreed with the idea as well. The conversation was overall uncomfortable and to outsiders it could have insinuated there was something going on between you and Clarke.

The outsiders in question here, unfortunately, were Steve, Sam, and anyone else in their group who had heard the conversation. You were mortified, to say the least.

“ Oh, you heard that? About that…,” you trailed off not knowing where to start.

Steve shook his head,“ You don’t need to explain anything. I get it. You moved on and you have every right to. This whole moving on thing, I just—I still feel like I’m stuck in time sometimes and I can’t help revisiting the past,” he stated sincerely, his eyes wandering to the ground. He frowned at it, searching for something else to say.

At the same time, his statements had brought you out of your embarrassment long enough to register what he had said.

“ Surely you’ve moved on?” You asked him, not comprehending if you had interpreted what he said correctly.

It took him a moment before he got the courage to lock eyes with you,“ Have you?”

You paused, not having a straight answer to his question. Before meeting him today to anyone else you would have said you had—even if deep down you knew it wasn’t the whole truth.

You broke up with him months before the whole Ultron disaster and since then you haven’t looked at another man with romantic intentions.

You couldn’t count that as moving on.

Your mouth parted, but no words came out. You were still unsure of what to say. Your heart was jumping out of your chest trying to answer for you and the look he was giving you was making it impossible not to give in and let it. He was pleading with his eyes, a hopeful shimmer that maybe somewhere within you there were still feelings for him lying dormant waiting to be awakened.

His gaze made it difficult for you to think, so you averted his eyes and looked down at a slightly large puddle on the ground. It was the only thing separating the two of you, with both of your reflections lying inside of it. You stared at the reflections, hoping to collect your thoughts better this way.

You could see him shuffling uncomfortably through the reflection,“ I think a part of me always knew you had. I should’ve known when you didn’t respond to any of my letters,” he continued, taking your body language as confirmation you had moved on.

At his revelation, your eyes shot up and locked on him, “ You wrote me letters?”

He looked taken aback by your surprised expression, “ I did. Every month for a year after we broke up. There was a lot I still had left to say—and that I wanted to say to you. When I didn’t get a reply back I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me,” he admitted, his expression softening.

You were gutted at the mental image of Steve waiting nervously to hear back from you only to receive silence in return. You spiraled at the thought of what could have been if you had read just one of those letters. Truthfully, your breakup with Steve was unwanted on both ends. However, due to the pressure and demands both of your professions required of you, you grew apart.

For months, you were lucky to catch a glimpse of each other on the weekends before receiving your next mission or task. Evil didn’t stop, so the good guys couldn’t either—and the Avengers took up almost all of Steve’s time. The loneliness of the constant nights alone waiting for your boyfriend to come home became too much for you.

So much so, that you ended things when loneliness turned into resentment. There was only so much the mind could understand before the heart took over.

You boiled it down to right person, wrong time.

“ I never got them,” you finally spoke up, “ If I had, Steve, I promise I would have called you. Right after we broke up I was stationed in London for a year and I rented out my apartment to a young couple. They never told me of any letters,” you explained, feeling betrayed by fate and your tenants.

Steve gave a chuckle, one laced with disbelief at the situation, “ No, it's on me. Letters are kind of old school, aren’t they? I should’ve picked up the phone and called you.” He shouldered the responsibility, something only Steve would feel the need to do.

You disagreed, shaking your head at him,“ The phone works both ways, so it's on me too. And I like old school. There’s a charm to it you can’t find anywhere else.”

You hoped the deeper meaning of what you said would get across for Steve to understand.

It seems it did, as a comfortable silence fell between you. You stared at one another, searching for your past selves in each other's eyes. There were so many questions and things left unsaid that were waiting to be discussed.

You were eager for him to confess to you everything that was written in the letters and he was just as eager to hear your response to all those unanswered questions he had sent you more than a year ago.

As neither of you could decide who would get the conversation started, fate decided to intervene once more. However, fate this time went by the name of Sam and his little bird-like drone Redwing.

When you spotted it approaching you, your hand instinctively placed itself on top of the gun hiding on the inside of your jacket. Upon seeing your reaction, Steve bolted over to you and placed himself in front of you as protection. The action caused your heart to flutter.

As soon as Steve spotted Redwing, his guard went down.

“ Don’t worry about the drone, it’s Sam’s. I think that’s his way of telling me I need to be heading back,” he informed you, your guard dropping as well at the explanation.

“ I should be heading back too. I have a lot of investigating to do in the morning,” you pointed out.

“ Want me to walk you back?” Steve asked you in a way that gave you full control over the decision.

As much as you wanted him to, you had to decline, “ I want to say yes, but you can’t. The hotel I’m staying at is heavily monitored and you're on the run. It would be too risky. It’s safer for you and your group if you don’t go anywhere near it.” You were disappointed at the reality of the situation and from the look on Steve’s face so was he.

“ I figured, but I still wanted to ask,” he took a step back, making you realize how close you two had gotten when he rushed over to protect you. There was no longer a large puddle of water in between, and if you reached your hand out you would be able to touch him.

“ Steve, that old laptop can track down any signal right?”

“ From what I understood, yes. Why?”

“ Well you have mine now, so I’m counting on you to keep in touch,” you let him know before planting a quick goodbye kiss on his cheek. His beard was scratchy against your lips, but you were surprised to find out you didn’t mind it.

He was stunned for a moment before a grin quickly replaced it.

“ I will. I promise,” the sincerity in his tone and expression was all you needed to walk away knowing the story wouldn’t end there.

“ Goodnight, Steve.”

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

How lovely it was to hear those words again.

The next day a package was delivered to your hotel room containing a burner phone inside and a note that read:

I always keep my promises. :)

The phone contained only one number on the contact list you soon found out belonged to Steve. Throughout the course of the next two weeks in Poland, you spent every night talking on the phone with him.

You both poured your heart out to one another. Your losses, your fears, your hopes, and any other topic that came to mind. There was so much to catch the other up on that there were never enough hours in the night to get through it all.

With every conversation, the connection you once had was slowly building itself again. A little over two years had gone by since your breakup and the people you had become since then were getting to know each other once more.

Maybe now the timing was finally right.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers fluff #birthday bingo request #steve rogers imagine

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meowzfordayz · 10 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet — Himejima Gyomei

Author’s Note: as w/ all headcanons, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Himejima Gyomei

Himejima Gyomei x Reader

Word Count: ~2,800

CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, mast!rbation, oral, size difference

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Gyomei’s aftercare is very loving and very simple. You can generally expect a quick rubdown with a warm washcloth, a cool glass of water (tea if/when he has the energy), and a soft kiss to your forehead. He adores curling around you after you’ve fallen asleep, murmuring about how wonderful you (and the sex) was as he drifts off. If you don’t like being spooned, then he’s happy to wait until you get comfy, and then improvises a position that doesn’t crowd you, but is still suitable for aforementioned murmurings of sweet nothings.

Body Part? their favorite body part(s)

Gyomei absolutely adores your cheeks (not those ones 😆). How squishy they feel when you grin, how warm they feel after you orgasm, and how lewd they feel with his cum on them; he’d do anything to hear you giggle—pinching your cheek between his thumb and index finger—and always goes the extra mile to ensure they’re hot to the touch after fucking you. ☺️

From listening to Gyomei’s heartbeat, hand slipped underneath his shirt to scratch lightly at his tiny patch of chest hair; to digging your fingernails into his sternum as you ride him, crescents indenting his skin, your movements gradually slowing, needy mewl barely spilling from your lips before he’s gripping your hips, forearms flexed and ready to bounce you on his cock. From gently patting his bum while he’s brushing his teeth, giggling when he raises an amused eyebrow; to gripping his ass, low whine caught in your throat as he fucks the air out of your lungs, trying to tell him T-too deep even as you guide his thrusts further and harder into your cunt, reasonable thoughts i.e. I can barely breathe replaced by cockdrunk whimpering i.e. G-gyomei, pleasepleasep-please! His chest and ass are both Netflix 🥰 and chill 😏 worthy.

Cum?

While cumming on your face is HOT (Gyomei loves the contrast of how slick and filthy his cum feels on your skin as he traces the outline of your smile), he often manages to get some in your eye(s) 😬, so he tends to opt for your stomach instead. He gets the same satisfaction of feeling his cum slip and squelch, without the guilt of imagining your red, irritated eye(s). That being said, you don’t even have to beg to get him to cum on your face; a breathy, “Please baby, cum on my face,” will do the trick every time.

Dirty Secret? shh

Wants to make you cry (during sex, of course). 🫢 Not from pain, but from the sheer ecstasy and overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly filled with and surrounded by him. A fragment of Gyomei always holds back while fucking you, because he’s well aware of his size, and sheathing even just half of himself in your pussy is enough to make him tear up. But to make you cry? To feel your tears wetting his thumbs as he caresses your cheeks? To hear your breathy moans of F-fuck and S-so much and G-gyomei, c-can feel you e-everywhere… What he would give to taste the salty sweetness of your love for his cock as he thrusts himself in till his groin is flush and hot against your pelvis.

Experience? their level of experience

Initially, Gyomei’s inexperienced—and somewhat timid about testing the waters—but he’s willing to dip his toe in, then his ankle, and then dive in deep for you. He considers experience to be less about how much he’s done or explored, and more about how well he knows you. So what if he’s never tried impact play or anal? He knows where to stroke to hear you gasp, where to nibble to hear you giggle, and when to hesitate to hear you whimper — surely that’s all the experience he needs? Albeit, he isn’t necessarily a natural, and definitely appreciates lots of praise and reassurance to guide him; sex is a journey, not a race. 🩶

Favorite Position?

Gyomei LOVES when you ride him. ☺️ It’s easier for you to set the pace, allows you to take as much or as little of him as you feel up to, and he’s got the forearms and biceps to bounce you for days should your thighs ever give out. Along with logistical ease, he revels in the moments when you tire, your tits smooshing into him as you collapse atop his sweaty chest, soft huffs and moans caressing his collarbones while he fucks into you. Your fingertips cling needily to his sides, strong arms cradling and rocking you — a tender embrace in stark contrast to the lewd squelch of your hole clenching greedy and swollen around him.

Goofy? their sense of humor

He isn’t the ~funniest guy during sex, but Gyomei isn’t exactly serious either. He’s passionate and fluid; focused more so on your pleasure and feeling close to you than anything else. When any fumbles, queefs, or farting occur, he’s sure to let out a good natured chuckle, and perhaps even a gentle teasing remark (usually toward bad smelling toots haha), but then he’s straight back into getting your toes to curl, your laughter trailing off in favor of gasping for breath.

Hair? pubes maintenance

Shaving isn’t the easiest task for him, but Gyomei understands a mouthful of hair isn’t usually desirable when going down on someone. 😅 Therefore, he trusts you with the soap and razor, inwardly praying that you don’t accidentally knick his balls throughout the process. 🙃

Intimacy? their degree of intimacy

To Gyomei, sex isn’t a chore, routine, or even an adventure; it’s the closest thing to heaven, a drop of water in a desert, as dear to him as a kiss on the forehead. His intimacy shines through, not in rose petals on the bed or candles flickering in a darkened, sultry bedroom, but in keeping the lights on so you can see him better. In telling you precisely how wonderful you feel. In urging you to vocalize your pleasure, your discomfort, your trust in him. To Gyomei, intimacy is a verb — a conscious act of bonding, losing, and finding oneself.

Jack Off? masturbation

Masturbation is often far from Gyomei’s mind; he’s more likely to enjoy mutual masturbation than touch himself alone. He doesn’t abstain out of fear or shame, and in fact experiences boners at a relatively normal rate i.e. in the morning, at random moments throughout the day, and at night if sleep eludes him — he simply doesn’t feel an aching need to relieve himself of physical lust, and prefers to allow it to subside naturally.

Kink? ~specific turn ons

Gyomei doesn’t explicitly nor consciously consider himself to have a size kink, but there is something thrilling about how ragged and breathless you sound with half of his cock sheathed in your pussy — let alone all of him. He’s fond of your fingernails, tiny crescent indents etched into his skin as he works himself into you, hips steady and patient, lest he accidentally hurt you from moving too quickly. And when you whimper lowly, words slow to surface, gaze shimmering with both pleasure and pain, “G-gyomei, you’re s-so big, f-fuck! S’t-too much!” it’s all he can do to refrain from nudging your legs further apart, anxious to watch his cock bully itself into your swollen, pulsating heat. Of course, he checks in to ensure he isn’t actually too much for you, reassurances honeyed and soft—“You’re doing so well for me, my love. Just a little more to go.”—despite the relentless push of his tip and blatant lie (there’s a lot more to go 😵‍💫). Once his hips are flush against your ass (a process that takes upward of five minutes, and plenty of lube), he presses a hot, greedy palm to your lower abdomen, searching for the telltale sign that he’s truly filled your aching hole to its brim, groaning quietly when he feels just how deeply he penetrates you… sooo he totally has a size kink.

Location? where they prefer to have sex

In bed. Specifically yours, his, or the bed you share (if you live together). It’s sturdy, familiar, and accommodates you both (Gyomei’s 7’2” aka ~218cm, so you’d need a sizeable car/shower/couch/etc for other locations to be anywhere near as convenient or comfortable as a bed).

Motivation? ~general turn ons

Hard work and knowing when to ask for help. On one hand, Gyomei’s strongly attracted to those who seek to earn what they’re given. This doesn’t necessarily mean someone who’s overly ambitious, or even someone who’s constantly productive — it’s more so an appreciation for the inherent gratitude and humbleness of those who don’t take anything for granted. It may sound silly, but simply hearing you talk about your day, your dreams, what you’ve accomplished and what you’re still working on, can get him going, “That sounds wonderful, darling. I’m proud of you!” <— as he not so subtly begins kissing along the back of your shoulders and neck. On the other hand, he’s also a giver and protector, and is more than willing to go down on you, make love to you, kiss you until you’re boneless and finally tired, “Let me help you, my heart. You can fall apart with me, I’m here for you.” <— as he coaxes another trembling orgasm from you, his hand slotted determinedly between your thighs, fingers curling filthy, delicious noises from your cunt, your back leaned cozy and safe into his chest, his legs caging your body in a warm, sensual haze. Getting to both reward your hard work, as well as support you through difficult, painful, sad, and/or slow times is certainly pleasurable for Gyomei, and not just sexually.

No? turn offs

Gyomei isn’t a huge fan of verbal degradation or physically rough sex. He finds the sensuality and overstimulating aspects of sex more than enough—Look at me, my love, look at me as I stretch out your pussy… hm, opening your gorgeous mouth for me? It’s too much? You’re so beautiful—without adding aggressive verbal/physical intensity. Besides, the girth and length of his cock more than make up for his disinclination toward faster and harsher thrusts — you’re already being split in two, regardless of how quickly it happens. 😉

Oral? giver or receiver

While primarily a giver—Gyomei’s never felt so vulnerable and weak and happy to die than when he’s suffocating between your thighs—there’s something special about watching you flick your tongue around the tip of his cock, his precum shiny on your lips as you smile at him. “Enjoying yourself?” he rasps, light fingers carding through your hair, following the rhythm of your licks. “Mhm,” you giggle fondly, blowing warm air along his shaft, “You’re so pretty.” He groans softly at your compliment, his cheeks pink as he tugs at your hair, beckoning you upward for a kiss, “C’mere darling, let me taste myself.”

Pace?

Slow and steady wins the race, and no micro tears is a bonus! 😂 If you beg, “Please Gyomei, please fuck me faster, please, please, I’m begging you,” then he miiight hurry by 0.00001% of his current pace 😃, but he’s just not in a rush — to the point of dissolving you into impatient, needy whines (and he lowkey lives for your whining 😌).

Quickie? a fan or not-a-fan

Sorry not sorry, but Gyomei’s too large for quickies to be realistic (unless you want to be in genuine pain later). If you’re fine with literally just the tip, then he can work something out, but otherwise? Nah. Not to mention, the art of the quickie tends to lack the slow drag and intimacy that he so deeply craves.

Risk? their risk tolerance

Gyomei’s risk tolerance… well… he’s got very little. 😆 He knows he’s more than capable of protecting you from any undesirable consequences, but he’d rather avoid having to shield your naked body from startled eyes in the first place. If, however, you initiate risky behavior (i.e. stroking his thigh in a calculating manner while dining out for dinner), then he’ll play along… usually ending with him slamming way more bills than necessary on the table, and then passionately ushering you out of the restaurant. 😏

Stamina?

As long as he doesn’t cum, Gyomei’s stamina is through the roof. BUT, the moment he cums, it’s over — don’t expect an immediate round two. He’s more than happy to help you continue cumming with his fingers or tongue, but intercourse itself is no longer on the table. Fortunately, his tells are pretty obvious—I’m going to cum soon is about as obvious as it gets—and he never minds being edged ~a lil if it means prolonging your pleasure and enjoyment.

Toys?

Gyomei’s fine with you owning toys, and loves perusing for new items and treats with you, but he prefers for you to use them only when he’s unavailable. He treasures the process of preparing, stretching, and warming your body for his cock with his own two hands, ten fingers, and one tongue, and introducing lifeless materials into the fray just doesn’t appeal to him. That being said, if you decide to spend the day with a vibrator in your underwear or a butt plug to expediate the evening’s agenda… he’s not going to complain. 😌

Unfair? how they feel about teasing/being teased

Gyomei doesn’t consider himself a tease, although his preferred pacing often makes it feel like he does, nor does he care much for being teased. If you want him, then you want him. If you don’t, then you don’t. He knows teasing isn’t actually a game, and he isn’t turned off or offended by it — it’s just a little confusing for him at times. 😅

Volume?

Soft groans and adoring filth at a volume ~just loud enough for you to process. Sometimes Gyomei’s voice will raise slightly, but never sharpen in tone, and only because you’re too cockdrunk to hear him otherwise, and he needs you to hear him. He needs you to hear how desperately and sweetly he desires you; needs you to hear how complete and gone you get him; the faint tremor in his voice telling you just how incredible and indulgent your pussy feels. A low groan buried in the softness of your shoulder, his cock sunk halfway into your heat, large hands gripping your waist with unbearable tenderness as he murmurs Gosh I missed this, missed you so much, so so much. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your cunt. Probably both.

Wild Card?

Gyomei’s senses are so fine tuned that he doesn’t exactly get the point of sense deprivation for himself, but he’ll blindfold you every so often (with your consent, of course) — an action that emphasizes and heightens the precision and intensity of how he makes love to you. You always wonder if he feels the same way as you do, goosebumps raising on your breasts as he slowly swirls his tongue around your nipple, or if he’s so accustomed to darkness and familiar with your movements that few things you do can surprise him. Regardless, he can certainly surprise you, a soft whimper floating between you as he begins gently sucking on the underside of your jaw, steady fingers lifting your head to grant him better access to your warm skin.

X-ray?

Gyomei is Big™. Approximately 10 inches when fully erect with a squishy, bulbous tip and balls proportionally large and heavy. They’re difficult to fit in your mouth; you’ve definitely tried, and nearly accidentally chomped ‘em due to laughing at the impossibility of the mission. His cock isn’t necessarily aesthetic (thanks to its size, it’s lowkey more monstrous than pretty 🥴), but it’s visually stunning (~stunning as in, Ohmyfuck how am I gonna fit that in my vagina?! 😭).

Yearning? sex drive

Gyomei’s sex drive is consistent. ☀️ He appreciates getting to have sex at least once a week, but doesn’t need more than twice to feel fulfilled. If you initiate, then he’ll rarely decline, albeit he may request to stick to foreplay and your orgasms if you initiate multiple days in a row (with great cock comes great responsibility; with such a big battery he needs ample time to properly recharge 🪫🔋😂).

Zzz?

Gyomei stays up quite a while after you’ve fallen asleep post coitus, usually reading (Braille)/listening to an audio book, or simply and literally staring at you. 👀 He’s certainly tired and always sated, but prefers easing into post nut clarity — more of a slow fade to ~reality versus a jolting switch from being Horny™ to Not Horny™. If you’re having trouble falling asleep, then he’s more than content to partake in pillowtalk, whether it be about how the sex was, what your plans are for the next day, or planning your future engagement and wedding (assuming you desire marriage). 💞

#gyomei himejima #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #himejima x reader #stone hashira #headcanons #modern au #demon slayer smut #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer

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unsolved-duvall · 1 year

Text

𝐄𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞 - 𝐞.𝐦.

eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings anxiety, description of a panic attack, fluff, comfort, an overuse of nicknames (sweetheart, baby, etc.), general warning for heavier content (2k+)

authors note today was a bad day for me, so i wrote this little blurb about eddie helping you through a panic attack and comforting you afterwards. i hope it can be a small piece of comfort to someone <3

You were at Eddie’s, both of you sprawled lethargically across the length of the couch, your legs over his lap and your head resting on the arm of the couch. The lights were all turned off as the television played some film Eddie had picked up from family video the other day. His hands ran absentmindedly over your bare legs in a gentle pattern, whilst his attention was wholly on the film.

You had felt relaxed, calm, safe. Of course you had, you were with Eddie. But soon enough, for no apparent reason, you’re heart had started racing and your hearing had gone muffled and you didn’t know what to do.

You didn’t want Eddie to see you like this. He couldn’t see you like this.

You made a split-second decision to pull your legs from his lap and drag your body, heavy with panic, from the couch and make your way to the bathroom. Away from him.

If it wasn’t for your hazy state, you had have realised just how flustered you looked. You tried to tell Eddie what you were doing but no words came out when you opened your mouth.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, and in your rising panic you didn’t remember to lock the door.

It was as if your brain had shut off, perhaps it was trying to protect you from how overwhelmed you were. But before you had any time to process what was happening you found yourself sat on the cold tile floor, your back resting against the bathtub and the palm of your hands pressed flat to the floor, trying to use the coldness to ground yourself.

Your heart felt as if it could beat out of tour chest and your face and arms felt tingly. There was no other way of describing it apart from it feeling like tv static had taken over your body. One of your hands went numb and you couldn’t move it. This happened every time too, you would lose control of your own body and you had never felt as isolated as you did when this happened - your own body betrayed you.

There were tears running down your face, silent cries that you didn’t even realise were happening until you felt the salty tears land on your lips. You couldn’t slow your breathing down, you couldn’t move your arms, you couldn’t-

“Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

Eddie.

Oh thank god-

No.

No, he couldn’t see this.

“Baby, talk to me. What happened?”

Come here. Go away.

I need you. I don’t want to need you.

You couldn’t speak. You wanted to but you couldn’t.

When Eddie didn’t hear anything he felt a fear he hadn’t felt before. He needed to know you were okay. You had to be okay, right? You were just with him. But what if you weren’t? What if you were sick? Or upset? He needed to help you.

Your hearing had gone muffled so you didn’t hear the knock on the door or the click of the door handle when he pushed the door open and was met with the sight before him.

He was lent down in front of you within a second. His heart broke just looking at you, he didn’t know what was going on, but the sheer panic and confusion on your face was enough for him to feel like the world had just been ripped away from under his feet.

“Hey, hey, okay baby. You’re okay, huh?” His voice was small, cracking on those last words because the truth was he didn’t know that you were okay.

Eddie was smart. He knew you struggled with anxiety. You had never told him, but he had picked up on it. He never confronted you about it or asked questions, he simply held onto that knowledge in case he ever needed it. Like now.

He had seen someone have a panic attack before.

His mom, when he was seven years old.

“Can I touch you sweetheart? Can I hold your hand or do you not want to be touched right now?”

You shook your head and he felt his heart shatter all over again.

You didn’t want to be touched. Not yet. You didn’t feel safe in your own body, how were you meant to trust someone else.

“Okay can you just listen to my voice, baby? Just listen to me, okay? Shh shh shh, you’ll be okay.” Eddie dropped his voice so it was soft like silk. His calming tones washing over you.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breathing started to pick up again and Eddie was genuinely worried about you passing out.

“Hey, sweetheart you’ve gotta breath okay. Or you’re gonna pass out- come on just breathe for me.”

Eddie took exaggerated breaths and you finally met his eyes, watching him. He nodded his head at you when he realised you were focused on him, continuing to breathe in and out.

“That’s it. Just copy me, okay? Just in and out, you’ve got it baby”

You tried to copy him. Your breaths were uneven and shaky and occasionally you lost your way again. Your cries would get harder and your breaths would be lost on you again.

But Eddie was in front of you and you found yourself reaching a hand out for him.

He took it hesitantly, whispering out a yeah? this okay? when his fingers intertwined with his. You still couldn’t talk, or nod, but you hoped he knew you were trying to tell him that yes, yes that was okay.

Eddie held your hand and placed your palm flat over his heart, covering it with his own. His chest was rising and falling with his breathing, and being able to feel it felt… calming. It felt like he had brought you back down from where you felt like you were floating before.

After a while, your breathing started to match his. Your hands were shaking and you still didn’t feel okay. But you felt a little safer.

“Good, that’s good angel. Keep doing that for me, I’ve got you.”

It might have been five minutes or half an hour. But your heart slowed and your breathing evened out. Your classy eyes met Eddie’s and the pain you saw behind them made you feel sick.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I don’t-”

Eddie cut you off, rubbing his thumb in circles over the back of your hand, “Don’t apologise. Just take your time, okay?”

You nodded and relaxed even further back against the bathtub.

“My face feels bad.”

“Bad? What- baby, what does that mean?”

“It’s tingly.”

You thought you sounded like a small child. Eddie thought you sounded like the bravest person he had ever met.

Eddie moved closer to you, dropping your hand down to rest on his leg as he raised his hands up to your face.

He placed one on either on of your cheeks and rubbed his thumbs into small circles over your soft skin. “You’re body just freaked out a bit, it’s okay. It was doing its job, trying to protect you.” Eddie whispered in front of you.

Eddie’s touch on your face made more tears fall. You weren’t sure why you were crying anymore, but he let you get it all out.

“How’s that feel?” Eddie asked you with a small smile on his face.

“It’s better, thank you.” Your voice was scratchy, but the words weren’t getting trapped in your throat anymore.

“Of course.” You saw a small flash of uncertainty paint his face for a second. He wanted you to tell him what you needed, but he wasn’t sure you could do that right now; you still had a distant look in your eyes and your whole body had gone cold. He knew it was just you coming down from the shock and hyperventilating, but nonetheless it killed him to see you like this.

“Baby, do you want to- shall we get off this floor?” Eddie did what he did best, he tired to make you laugh, “I love you more than I love myself, but this floor is really cold.”

You didn’t laugh, but that was because toy felt so tired, and he knew that.

You nodded your head and let him help you up off the floor, leading you back to the lounge and sitting you down on the couch. He disappeared for a minute but soon came back with a glass is water for you.

“Drink some of this for me, okay? Just small sips.”

You did what he asked of you and he breathed a gentle thank you when you passed the glass back to you.

He sat down next to you and you clung to him. You never wanted to be around anyone after a panic attack, but with Eddie in his arms felt like the safest place in all the universe.

Eddie gently moved you both so you were laying with your head tucked under his and his arms wrapped reassuringly around you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I- I don’t know. I don’t know what happened.” your voice was small but he slowly started to recognise it again.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know why.” he gently kissed the top of your head and you fought to get even closer to him, letting your hands wrap around him and under slide under his jumper, so they were resting against his back.

Eddie took a steadying breath before he said, “You know I’m always here for you, sweetheart. I love you, and I don’t want you to ever go through that alone again, okay? I know you’ve done it alone before, but you should never have had to.”

You felt small tears form in your bloodshot eyes and you turned your head so it was pressed against his neck. He realised what you were doing and he mimicked your earlier actions, slipping his hand under your top to feel your skin and rub his hands up and down your back.

“I’ve got you,” you nodded against him and tightened your grip on him, which he took as a sign to carry on talking.

“You don’t need to hide from me. I love every part of you. I even love it when you wake me up in the middle of the night because you want to tell me about the dream you just had. I mean baby, if anyone else tried to wake me up I’d kick them out of my room so fast they’d get whiplash.”

You let out a very small laugh and the sound of it was the best thing he had ever heard.

“I’m serious angel. Don’t run from me again, huh?”

You lifted your head slightly and Eddie was floored with a flood of emotions when he saw your face. He truly loved you more than he could explain or even understand.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You lay back down against him, chest to chest with your head buried in his neck and Eddie settled into the couch below him. No words were exchanged between the two of you, but you both fell asleep in the comfort of being wrapped around each other.

When you woke up, you found a blanket had been gently placed over the top of of both of you, someone had tucked the blanket around the both of you and turned the tv off.

Not someone.

Wayne. His shoes and coat were by the front door, and you saw that the light in the kitchen was on.

Eddie woke up soon after you, and you whispered l something against him that had him sitting the both of you up, still not letting you stray far from him, keeping his hand resting against you constantly.

The three of you sat around the small table and ate dinner together that night, talking about everything and anything. Eddie let his hand rest against your leg under the table, like an anchor keeping you next to him.

Soon enough the day ended with all of you crashed on the couch and watching one of Wayne’s favourite films. He spoke through the whole thing, explaining his favourite things about it. You loved it.

You lay resting against Eddie and closed your eyes to the sounds of the film and gentle conversation between Eddie and Wayne.

You had never felt like you could call somewhere home before, you never truly knew what that meant. But you thought you might know now.

(defense against tumblr deleting anything <3)

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theprismyyy · 4 months

Text

She has something you don't have; Immunity.

Ellie Willians x Fem! Reader

Tw: Death, anguish without comfort, brief descriptions of bites. (Not revised)

(English is not my first language)

You and Ellie were wandering around a town looking for supplies, medicine, food, anything that could be even remotely useful. Maria had sent small teams to nearby towns for general supplies, Jackson had just been through a difficult winter, people getting sick from the extreme cold and suddenly food seemed scarce; so as soon as things calmed down and the snow began to melt off the ground, the small groups began gathering their things, saddling their horses and breaking wooden gates outside.

And that's how you and Ellie ended up in this situation, with you leaning against the wall of an old, dilapidated building, hot, fresh crimson blood gushing and oozing from the bite on his forearm.

“No, no, no, no,” Ellie spoke repeatedly, desperation dripping from her words, eyes wide with fear for her situation as she pulled her arm away to check the wound.

“Damn” His breathing was heavy, mixed with disgust at his own state, the strong smell of blood entering his nostrils, the image of torn flesh being difficult to look away from.

Ellie was shaking, she grabbed the knife attached to her belt, cutting her palm and letting her own blood flow into her wound.

“Please work” She whispered to herself, hoping desperately that her immune blood would do something about it the current situation, that would help you in some way; you both knew you wouldn’t. She had never felt so desperate and terrified in her life.

“Please… I can’t lose you… I can’t…” She said, doing her best to stop the dam of tears from overflowing.

You could feel the infection coursing through your blood, veins darkening sickly around the wound and progressing in a sickly way agonizingly slow down the length of your arm. “Ellie…enough” The words escaped weakly through her dry lips.

“What do you mean, enough…? No, this has to work, I need it to work” She didn’t like the way you sounded…she felt dizzy, sick inside with everything that was unfolding.

“It won’t work… we both know that” You stressed with firm hunger, as difficult as it was to admit that to yourself. Your head throbbed from the impact of being knocked against the wall by the corridor that took you by surprise, the corridor responsible for your imminent end.

She couldn't believe it, the tears in her eyes were getting heavier and harder to contain; this couldn't happen again, she couldn't take it, she couldn't lose you like what happened to Riley...it was as if this was all a big joke of fate, a joke of the kind that leaves a bad taste on the tip of your tongue. “You have to... you can't turn into one of them...”

“I’m not going to…” You said, holding her face softly, a softness that only you were capable of, a softness that made her fall in love with you in the first place. “I don’t want to be one of those things Ellie... I don’t want to be this empty, grotesque shell wandering around… please”

The moment she realized what you meant, she shook her head frantically, finally allowing herself to shed the tears she tried to hold back. “No… I can’t leave you… I can’t… I can’t lose you… I can’t live without you…”

“You don’t deserve to die like this, it’s not fair”

…

She was right, it wasn't fair and it shouldn't end now, it shouldn't end like this; when you two started dating this was for you, one of the few good things in this completely fucked up and unbalanced world... your romance should last, being written like a book, shot like a movie, at least that's how you liked to think, it was a beautiful way of taking things.

“No, it’s not fair… but I wouldn’t do anything different, nothing.” With that you pulled her, connecting your lips with hers once again.

One last kiss, one last touch. She was trying her best to enjoy these last moments.

“I’m sorry” You finally allowed yourself to be fragile, the weight of everything manifesting through salty tears that ran down your cheeks.

“D-don't apologize... It's not your fault...” She tried to smile, trembling hands running through her hair, her warmth was calming but also devastating, and Ellie knew she would miss it forever. Soon her hand was on the back of her head, cradling you for one last kiss, his scent filled her with comfort and love in her heart, even though it was now filled with sadness and hopelessness.

“Thanks”

“Whereby?” She whispered painfully and tearfully.

“For loving me, thank you for loving me Ellie Williams…”

The words that followed were laced with a bittersweet feeling, the realization that this would be the last time you heard these things from each other. “How could I not love? You are one of the kindest, sweetest and most beautiful people I have ever met...how can I not love you like that?” It was breaking her, seeing you like this was breaking her heart.

She was so scared to let you go, she couldn't believe she was about to do this... but she needed to be strong for you, she didn't want you to be afraid, she needed to calm you down, make you feel safe, make you feel loved...even if at least a little.

“Please look at me, look me in the eyes…” She whispered in the sweetest voice she could muster. The barrel of the gun pressed against the side of his skull with an almost ghostly sensation. “Don’t take your eyes off me”

“I love you Ellie”

“I love you too...so much”

The words left her mouth longingly, breathing becoming heavy as she trembled. Naquele moment, she can see your entire story playing like a movie in her eyes…happiness is simple…ela You noticed that in the time you spent together, the feeling of happiness when you woke up curled up in your arms on those rare lazy mornings, the satisfaction of feeling the citrus juice on your taste buds as you shared an orange on a hot summer afternoon, his fingers gently tracing every little freckle on her face as if he were tracing a constellation, the kisses...the hot ones, the soft ones, even those that were marked by moments of stress...she loved each one, She loved every little thing, every little gesture, every little trait of her appearance and personality...

Ellie Williams loved you, she loved you before, she loved you now and she continued to love you even after the shot rang out and silence was the only thing they had left.

#the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams #ellie tlou #tlou #tlou2

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pixiekiwi · 9 months

Text

Left Behind | Newt

Hiii!! First post after a year and a half of inactivity!! Im finally going to start writing again becuz my bf has inspired me to start sharing my work again!! This is a very old one shot and I barely touched it b4 actually posting it because I need something to get my account bumpin again!! Anyways I hope you enjoy, hopefully I’ll post more soon :)

𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Inspired by Wait by the River, by Lord Huron!

Warnings: Angst, terribly written (written a year ago and just now posting!) also long asf.

Words: 1,634

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

People say time heals. But to you, time was the opposite of what you wanted. The more time passed, the more you missed Newt. The longer you spent apart from him, the more your heart ached, and burned.

He healed you, and without him- time is nothing but an aggravating evil.

Your heart tore in two pieces the day he left the Glade, choosing your brother over Newt. You were scared to leave, all you knew was the Glade. You remember the look of defeat on Newt’s face, how he welled up with tears as you gave him one last goodbye. How tight he held you before he was hurried by Thomas. You wished he never let go, you wished he never left you.

You were afraid, terrified even, but as you watched the love of your life leave the only home you’ve ever known you broke. Shattering like a mirror - splitting your ideals from reality. To follow him, you’d risk your life to do it.

Gally was watching you closely, you knew it. His eyes never left you when the blonde left you behind, he had a firm grip on your shoulder for comfort. You knew it was to also keep you within the Glade.

It was minutes later, your shoulder ripped from Gally’s hold, throwing yourself into the maze. Shouts of protest bubbled from the remaining boys in the Glade. Gally’s shout was the loudest, his own footsteps following behind you.

You weren’t worried about him catching you, as you had always been faster than him. You didn’t know the maze, for fucks sake you were a gardener with Newt, but you had seen the map. Minho was one of your closest friends, he shared everything with you. You had helped Minho study the map with Thomas, so you remembered generally where you were supposed to go.

The hard part was trying to fight the feeling that you were losing control of your own body. Your fingers had grown numb and your eyesight had fallen hazy. The further you ran down the path of the Maze, the less yourself you felt. You felt angry, angry that Newt would truly leave without you, angry with Thomas for cutting your goodbye so short. You couldn’t explain it, but you were angry with the world.

You had lost Gally minutes ago, you didn’t care. You needed to reach the group.

When you reached the Griever Hole you stopped in your tracks, and everything went black.

—

There you were again, you were in a new place, your surroundings electronic and gray. As the hazy feeling in your body faded you saw in front of you were your friends, Newt, Thomas, Minho- but something was wrong. Chuck, on the floor, bleeding.

That’s when you felt it, a flame of pain erupted in your chest. Looking down to your hand you realized you had something in your hand. A gun. You thought.

No, no, no, no-

You looked down to where the pain was in your chest, seeing a large sharp pole sticking what felt like, straight through your heart. You tried to gasp, as time seemed to pick up its pace, two bodies rushed to you. One catching you before you fell to the ground.

The two bodies were Newt and Minho, it seemed as though chaos was erupting around them and you. Light poured into the room, you could only hear Newt’s desperate cries.

“Please (Y/N) stay with me-” salty tears trailed down the blonde's face as he held you closely to his own body. Newts free hand grazed your dirt stained and sweaty face. Your skin was so pale, it made him sick. Minho stood above him, his face filled with fear. He was yelling at someone across the room, his angry words too distant to understand.

The soft touch of Newt’s hands sent you into a flurry of unexplainable emotions. You felt like you couldn’t breathe when he was holding you, although - the spear sticking out of your chest probably had something to do with that.

“I..” you tried your best to gasp out a few words, sorrow coating your tone, “I’m.. I’m so.. So sorry.” Tears welled up in your lashes, you couldn’t see anymore. Your vision was failing.

“(Y/N) please-” Newt’s voice echoed through your once again hazy mind, you could tell he was crying; his voice raspy, “Please don’t leave me, I.. I love you please baby.”

His heart wrenching pleas were the last thing you heard as you faded into nothingness once again.

–

Months passed without Newt, unsure if he was even alive. You and Gally had been saved by Lawrence and his group. Only being picked up moments after Newt had been snatched up by WCKD. It was scary, leaving the only home you’ve ever known, knowing you killed the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, Chuck.

After telling Gally how you weren’t even conscious when it happened; he tried to convince you it was WCKD who was controlling you. And although you knew this was true, you couldn’t help but feel as though it was you the whole time. You remember feeling angry before, but you never wanted to kill anyone.

And now here you were, perched on the large windowsill in Lawrence’s office, gazing out into the Scorch as your brother patrolled the outside of the Last City.

You were close with Lawrence, he grew to be like a father figure over you and Gally. You had confided with him about Newt and your friends in the Glade, and he understood. Lawrence himself lost a lot of friends, especially since he was half cranked-out.

Gally had been a big support system for you as well, he had comforted you through the nights you had cried yourself into exhaustion, missing the one person who made you feel whole.

You missed the warm summer nights in the Glade you spent with Newt, under the starry sky - wrapped up in his arms. He held you so tight, like he never wanted to let go - but he did.

“Y/N,” Lawrence’s raspy voice startled you from your thoughts, looking to the older man you noticed he was holding an orchid gazing at you quizzically, “Where did you go?”

You pulled your legs up to your chest, glancing out the window once more as you hummed in response, “Oh you know, wonderland.” You scoffed slightly at your own words, turning back to Lawrence.

Lawrence chuckled in response, his focus shifting back to the roses he was watering.

You sighed, your head resting on the window pane next to you. Closing your eyes tiredly - before you could pass out you heard commotion in the hallway. You sighed frustratedly, tucking yourself further behind the plants that guarded the windowsill. Maybe it was Gally finally coming back from patrol, you didn’t care though as you really just wanted to get some shut eye.

The door of Lawrence’s office flew open, causing your own eyes to snap open. You were hidden far enough in the window that you couldn’t make out who it was that had barged in so rudley.

“Gally- I’m glad to see you made it back, Jasper told me what happened,” the Crank man hummed his words.

“It was a slaughter,” The gruff voice of your brother seemed to cut through the eerie environment of Lawrence’s office, “there was nothing we could do against those guns.” Your heart sunk, you didn’t want to hear anymore - tuning out Lawrence’s response you played with your hands. Ignoring the aching feeling of sorrow in your chest, more people dead in an already deserted world.

Lawrences sudden sternness of voice caught your attention, causing you to tune into the conversation once more, “Now. Who are these people? Why are they here?”

Gally brought someone to Lawrence?

There was a tense pause of silence, and you held your breath, awaiting the unknown person to speak.

“We need to get into WCKD.”

The familiar voice sent you into a spiral of emotions, your body freezing up and going numb, was it really Thomas? You made a move to stand as Thomas continued speaking - “Gally said you can get us through the walls.” Your heart stopped, it really was him, his voice was more serious than it was back in the Glade, maybe even a bit fearful.

You froze before moving into sight of the others. You were preparing for the worse, what if Newt wasn’t with him? What if… You didn’t even want to think about it - your eyes welled up with tears as you hesitantly moved from behind the wall of plants.

You froze, looking to where the familiar group stood in front of you - each of their eyes now on you. Every expression showed surprise, but you didn’t care about that - your own eyes meeting the one person you missed so dearly. Newt.

You gasped - the tears that threatened to fall earlier now trailing down your face.

The blonde boy lurched forward, his arms around your frame immediately, crushing you with a force you didn’t know he had. His own shoulders seemed to shake - he was crying too.

You broke a sob as your arms wrapped weakly around his waist. You never expected to see him again, you thought he was gone.

“Newt- I’m so sorry,” your sobs broke through his chest as your arms pulled him closer to your body.

He shushed you immediately “No (Y/N), I shouldn’t have ever left you,” his own cries broke his composure- pulling you closer than ever.

Your head shook, apologizing over and over again while Newts lips kissed the top of your head, whispering how much he loved you.

This time, he truly would never leave you behind.

#newt x reader #x reader #maze runner #tmr #tmr x reader #maze runner x reader #newt tmr #newt maze runner #newt oneshot #maze runner oneshot #x reader oneshot #tmr oneshot #maze runner newt x reader

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howlingday · 5 months

Note

Soo chowder x panini is Ruby x oscar?

Ask and ye shall receive.

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Ozpin: Oscar, take note of the girl in front of you.

Ruby: (Scratches herself)

Oscar: Note taken~.

Oscar: Hi, Ruby~.

Ruby: Um, hi?

Oscar: ...

Ruby: ...

Oscar: ...

Ruby: ...Why are you staring at me?

Oscar: Because~.

Ruby: Because why? Is- Is there something on my face?

Oscar: I was in the market today, and I bought some powdered hearts. Would you like to try some~?

Ruby: What's it taste like?

Oscar: Taste it and find out~.

Ruby: Is it sweet?

Oscar: Well, taste it and find out~!

Ruby: Is it salty?

Oscar: TASTE IT.

Ruby: (Bites into it)

Oscar: Can you taste the romance~?

Ruby: (Coughs) The romance tastes a little dry.

Oscar: Have a sip from my... canteen.

Ruby: (Takes canteen, Chugs)

Goodwitch: Ohoho~! Dohoho~!

Ruby: Are you okay, Professor?

Goodwitch: Not as okay as you~! (Winks) So tell me, how long have you little lovebirds been... going steady?

Oscar: I'm Ruby's boyfriend! And Ruby is my girlfriend, and we're totally going to be together forever and ever (Grabs hand) and now we're holding hands~!

Ruby: (Spits out canteen, Continues spitting home)

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Ozpin: Ms. Xiao Long, you will groom yourself like a cat!

Yang: No way, dude! I have too much self-respect for that!

Ozpin: (Taps scroll) Oops! You're now a C student.

Yang: ACK! (Starts licking her arm)

Ozpin: And make kitty-cat sounds while you do it.

Ruby: No, Yang! You're not a kitty-cat!

Ozpin: Oscar! Silence the caped one!

Goodwitch: I didn't say anything.

Ozpin: No, the caped one with the dark hair!

Summer: I didn't say anything.

Ozpin: (Grabs Ruby) THIS ONE! SILENCE THIS ONE! (Tosses at Oscar)

Oscar: (Catches Ruby) With pleasure~. Kiss me, you fool~! (Tries to kiss her)

Yang: JUST DO IT, RUBY! WE NEED THOSE GOOD GRADES!

Ruby: I'D RATHER BE A DIRTY KITTY-CAT! (Licks herself with Yang, Meowing with her)

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Ruby: Come on! We have to get to General Ironwood! He's the only one who can help!

Oscar: Oh my gosh! She's holding my hand! Non-descript Winter Holiday dreams do come true~!

Summer: Be the dream. Live the dream. Touch the dream. TOUCH IT!

------------------------------------------------

Oscar: I'll do it!

Oscar: As your student council president, I officially declare student marriage legal! (Grabs Ruby) You may now kiss the groom!

Ruby: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

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Yang: Ruby needs a tutor, but it has to be someone willing to give him the close, personal, intimate tutoring she needs!

Jaune: (Steps in) Hell-

Oscar: (Tosses Jaune out the window) I heard you need a tutor!

Yang: Yeah, but I can only pay you in hugs.

Oscar: DEAL! (Zooms past Yang)

Ruby: (Tied to a chair) Yang's worried for no reason. I've already told her I don't need a tutor when I already have the skills.

Ruby: THE SKILLS!

Oscar: Let's get started. Hm, but first, let's get a little closer.

Oscar: Maybe a little closer.

Oscar: Just a smidge closer.

Oscar: (Next to Ruby) Oh, yes, this should be close enough. Now, what subject should we start with? How about... CHEMISTRY~?

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Ruby: (Running away) Why, oh why was I born so handsome?!

Oscar: (Holding her cape) Ready for your daily public display, Ruby~? (Tries kissing her)

Ruby: Watashi was anata no garufurendode wa arimasen! Ichido mo nai! Ichido mo nai!

------------------------------------------------

Oscar: Oh, Whitley, I am so sorry for treating you so horribly! Can you ever forgive me?

Whitley: Well, I, uh-

Oscar: Great! Phew! I'm so glad to have my Ruby back~! (Tries to kiss her)

Ruby: I'M NOT YOUR RUBY! (Tries to run)

Oscar: (Holding her cape) Ha ha... DOWN, RUBY! (Yanks) She can be so excitable. (Carries Ruby) Good-bye, Whittleson. And next time, lay off the cologne. You smell like a fish's armpit.

Ruby: ACK! NO! DAD! UNCLE QROW! HELP! I know you guys aren't in the tags, but please help me!

Taiyang: What is she talking about? Our tags are right down there!

Qrow: Should we go help her?

Taiyang: No, these are the only lines we have.

------------------------------------------------

Oscar: Sooooo... It only makes sense for you to let your future husband and the father of your twenty children win, right?

Ruby: TWENTY KIDS?! You must be straight trippin', my dude! I'm planning to play the field until I'm at least thirty-eight! Then maybe, MAYBE if I decide to settle down and get married, I'll think about possibly considering about maybe toying around with the notion of having one- JUST ONE- child, and I'll have it by myself when I'm ready! Thank you very much!

Oscar: Oh, so that's how it is, then? Alright. GAME ON!

------------------------------------------------

20 Years later...

Oscar: Oh, Ruby~!

And of course, Ruby and Oscar ended up together in the end, just as the creators intended.

Oscar: I'm taking our fifty babies out for a walkie-walk~!

Ruby: I thought we only had thirty babies.

Oscar: I had twenty more last night~!

Ruby: Oh. Hi, new babies!

Babies: Hi, Mommy~!

Oscar and Ruby lean in to kiss...

Ruby: NO! STOP! HOLD IT! I reject this reality! It's evil! Evil, I says!

Oscar: Aw, but Ruby, look at how happy we are~!

Ruby: I'M NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!

Oscar: Just look at all our babies~!

Ruby: I REFUSE TO LOOK!

Ruby: (Holds Oscar) Wow... We were pretty cute kids, huh?

Oscar: (Leans into her) Mhm~!

Ruby: But seriously, no more babies.

Oscar: Okay~!

Adrian: HELP! THE BABIES GOT ME!

Oscar: Okay, I'll stop~!

Ruby: BABIES, NO! PUT ADRIAN DOWN!

#rwby #rosegarden #ruby rose #oscar pine #chowder #ozpin #glynda goodwitch #yang xiao long #summer rose #jaune arc #taiyang xiao long #qrow branwen #adrian cotta arc #whitley schnee

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ellena-asg · 1 year

Text

I know that this scene in 2x01 is called romantic or sexy. And it is romantic and sexy, agree. Danny without a tie. Steve liking it. Yeah.

But sometimes when I watch it I can't stop thinking about the previous episode, about Danny choosing Steve, Danny not leaving with Rachel, Danny being like "Don't feel sorry about it, Steve. It's ok. It's ok, babe".

When I watch it I think about Danny's life now with Steve and his old life with Rachel (and Hollander family in general).

And I don't see "just a tie/no tie".

To me the tie and Danny not wearing it here... It's a symbol.

By "to me" I mean someone who finds Danny damn relatable. Anxiety, depression, other issues. Some of character traits. And a past that was like a hell.

I know that many of you like and defend Rachel and the idea of her co-parenting with Danny. And I respect that. I just think differently. And huh, I'm that salty cause I know such people like Rachel and her mother. I had my own Hollanders, in my own family, in my circle of friends. Destructive, toxic, manipulative, entitled, narcissistic people who will never change, will never stop hurt you. Who will ruin your life, all what you love, your passions, your heart, your mind. Believe me, when you're anxious and sensitive inside and you have to live (you think that you have to) with such destructive people... It sucks. (No matter if you chose these people or not). You're not anxious anymore, you're mega anxious. And many times you hate/blame yourself. All what Rachel and her mother have done to Danny (and Gracie) before and after divorce - it was a hell. To me it was a hell. A hell he never deserved.

So yes, in my eyes Danny was a victim in that cursed marriage (I swear, I'll make separate stuff about it one day). In my eyes after divorce Rachel tried to make him her marionette. After divorce she ruined him even more. And he let her again - for Gracie (all Danny's pain was for Gracie and geez, that poor girl deserves to know this).

This marriage was like a tie. A tie-noose tightening around Danny's neck. Danny couldn't breathe (well, literally too - anxiety can give you such a panic attacks). He was like a bird in a cage.

But he met Steve. He liked him. He loved him. For the first time in his life he felt genuine romantic love. And such a strong friendship. For the first time in his life he felt safe. He saw himself in Steve's eyes. He saw that they're two poor birds who still could fly - together. Danny can escape. He can leave his old life. He can escape AND have Gracie. (He wants Steve too).

All is possible, you should fight, do what you want - that's what Danny sees when he looks at Steve. What he sees in Steve's eyes in the last episode of season 1. That's what deep down Danny feels in his own heart. And to think that Danny calls Steve crazy. This, this new "crazy" life, full of dangerous cases, bombs, grenades, Steve's "goofy" actions, sharks, adventures... Maybe it's funny but this life, it's a life where Danny is safe, calm and happy. It's a life where he can heal. (Where he sees himself and Grace). Whereas his old life: easy, cosy, quiet, lovely and so normal... was calm and normal only on surface. His old life was a battlefield.

His old life was like Danny's outfit - elegant, pretty on surface but not always comfortable. And now, Danny has no tie. In this scene above he laughs. He touches his neck and makes a face like "Hanged man no more". Something is over. He's really happy. Still worried about Gracie, about Steve, yes - but not about Rachel anymore. He doesn't regret. He doesn't cry over Rachel and "lost chance". Nah. Leaving Steve - that would be a lost chance. His real chance is Steve.

He's free. He's a free bird. A free bird looking now at his lovebird. Saying "it will be okay".

Soon Danny wears more and more comfortable clothes. We can see it in many episodes. Jeans, t-shirts, shorts. Danny breathes. Danny is Hawaiian now. Steve's. He's like a kid trying to have fun again. Of course sometimes Danny still wears his ties and pretty shirts. Yeah. But he's with Steve. And when he's with him all is always comfortable. All is Danny-ish. All is good. There's no abuse. No lies. No using you as a tool. No using your passion (job) against you. No playing with your free will. No "you're not good enough", no "prove that you're worthy" and no "you're the bad one", "it's your fault", "bad, bad, bad Danny".

There is love.

And when I see Danny wearing a tie when he's with Stevie - then I see a nice tie, I see Danny being glamorous for Steve. THEN I see just a tie. No noose anymore.

@chaosrising451 Babe, sorry for tagging you (I hope you're feeling better) but I remember our talk about Steve suffering from abuse so I thought that maybe you would be interested in Danny's case too.

#h50 #McDanno #danny williams #steve mcgarrett #rachel edwards #h50 meta

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ryuichirou · 25 days

Text

More Tweels/Idia hcs!

Anonymous asked:

I don't know if you'll ever see this but: I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR ART!! The whole reason I got a tumblr account was literally to be kept updated on your posts. your Jade x Idia posts keep me alive genuinely. So of course I'm here to ask for your fav headcanons on Jade x Idia or the Octotrio x Idia in general (bottom idia for the win)

Anonymous asked:

feed us more bottom idia hc's 😃... and possibly jadidi 🤔

Anonymous asked:

AHHHHH I just stumbled upon your tumblr a few days ago and I love your Jade/Floyd x Idia hc's!! MORE please

Anons!! Thank you so much for sending so much love our way, it means so much I can never stress it enough. I am very happy that you like our stuff, both headcanons and drawings <3 whether you’re new here or have been with us for a while, we appreciate you a lot.

Sorry for the late reply! Here are some more Jade/Idia and Floyd/Idia hcs; some neutral ones, some spicy ones, some a bit fucked up ones. I won’t be writing anything about Azul this time because posted a new bunch of Azul/Idia hcs not so long ago, but he is mentioned a couple of times!

Jade makes snacks for Idia sometimes (sometimes sour, sometimes sweet, sometimes salty) and asks Azul to bring them to him whenever he goes to a board game club meeting, which always makes Azul super annoyed because he isn’t Jade’s errand boy + Idia doesn’t want to eat anything anyway. But even though Idia always says that eating stuff that Jade has made sounds like a dangerous game, he got used to munching on whatever Azul brings him. Making sure that Idia-san always remembers him + inconveniencing Azul at the same time? Sounds perfect to Jade <3

If Idia visits the Lounge (which doesn’t happen very often, it’s a pretty rare occasion, to be honest), he always tries to find the tiniest, least noticeable place to sit, but he always gets all the attention, because Floyd sees him, drops whatever he’s been doing and jumps on Idia’s couch to lean on him, chat with him, tease him and even squeeze him a little bit, not caring at all that Azul will absolutely yell at him for that. And even though it’s always a super stressful thing to Idia and he would prefer Floyd not to jump him like that, whenever he visits, his heart starts pounding very loudly, because his body is aware that Floyd will notice him and react very soon. It’s 50% him being scared and 50% of weird anticipation that makes him feel a bit ticklish down there.

Despite the fact that it’s easier to catch Floyd in his eel form, the first twin that Idia saw in his eel form was actually Jade. It was his first time seeing a merman in general, and since it was a dark pool and Idia didn’t realise what he was looking at at first, he got kind of freaked out. But also mesmerised at the same time. Idia ran away the moment Jade noticed him and look at him with his scary glowing yellow eye + avoided him after that point, but he still couldn’t escape the visual of Jade’s huge slippery heavy-looking tail that was constantly on his mind.

But the first Leech to actually touch Idia in his eel form was Floyd. That wasn’t a planned encounter either; Idia pretty much just fell into the pool in the most ecchi anime convenient way possible. But Floyd caught him, grabbed him with his huge hands, left a couple of scratches with his fins and claws, and slid Idia’s entire body on his own tail. Idia ended up not only wet, but covered in the eel slime, cold and weirdly aroused. He just got rid of weird eel-related dreams that Jade caused..!

Compared to Floyd, who touches, kisses and bites in a very overwhelming manner, Jade gives Idia some moments to “breathe” during sex, but this only makes things worse somehow. Because Idia’s brain just shuts off completely when he is with Floyd, but Jade makes sure that Idia is constantly aware of how exactly he is getting fucked, what sounds he makes, how his body reacts and how Jade’s dick creates a bulge inside his stomach. Jade always stops just in time for Idia to catch himself yelping pathetically and twitching, moments away from orgasm. And Jade always smiles like a criminal that is about to betray and shoot him when it happens…

Jade’s and Floyd’s dicks are pretty much the same size-wise, but the way they operate them is different; after having sex with Floyd Idia feels completely ruined. Not in a horrible way, but even if it’s been days, his insides remember how it felt when Floyd was shoving that thing deep inside his body. So it’s not unusual for Idia to spend a couple of days in bed after having sex with Floyd, especially considering the fact that if he moves his legs in the wrong way, he’ll probably trigger a spasm that’ll send a shockwave of pain and pleasure through his whole body.

Idia still isn’t sure why this whole thing keeps happening and why the tweels keep chasing him to have sex with him; he kind of was sure that they would lose all interest in him after a week or two. But even though he acts annoyed and even freaked out by them, somewhere deep inside it feels weirdly good to know that these two think about him so much that they just can’t get enough of him. This is such a cringy thought for Idia… but suddenly realising that Jade or Floyd could fit his entire dick inside his butt without any problem is more cringe; is it really this loose now??

Jade and Floyd are fascinated with the way Idia’s hair colour changes when he is embarrassed and aroused, and they know that it also changes in other situations, so now they have a quest to collect the entire rainbow of Idia’s hair. The winner gets to have fun with Idia while the other watches. Idia loses either way because the idea of being fucked by one of the tweels while the other one is pissed, horned up and cockblocked sounds like a nightmare lol Idia isn’t aware of this little challenge/game of theirs, which is for the best.

Floyd approaches the challenge by making Idia experience different physical sensations. He also loves to freak Idia out, he feels like if he does it enough, he could get a cool new colour. He just couldn’t scare him enough yet… maybe if he combines it with them having sex… Or makes Idia believe that he is about to drown him and keep his head under the water for like a minute until he either cums or passes out…

Jade’s approach is to play mental games with Idia + use potions, mushrooms and other stuff that he could feed him or inject into him. He got pretty interesting results, especially when poor Idia got super delirious and confused as Jade was having sex with him after pretty much frying his brains with the newest mushroom-based potion… but Floyd said that it doesn’t really count because it’s cheating.

#replies #headcanons #jadidi #floidi

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lemonsrosesandlavender · 30 days

Text

Personal Rolan Headcanons… via the NSFW Alphabet

Look these are going to be wildly biased to cater to my own taste and I don’t care. I’ll also be specific about both Rolan x Catrin and Rolan x Steel Weave Tav (my main fanfic pairings) where relevant because…fun!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

I think Rolan likes cuddles from his romantic partner a lot (and is generally very touch-starved: I don’t headcanon Cal and Lia having a particularly cuddly relationship with him despite their closeness, and I don’t think he’s been close to anyone else in a long time). However, I think he is truly ABYSMAL at talking about sex and only wants to do it when already turned on - so it’s up to his partner to prise opinions out of him on what he did and didn’t like (though he gets a bit better at that with time and encouragement from Steel Weave Tav). I also think he likes a hot, luxurious bath, and back rubs. Things the road from Elturel was short on!

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I think Rolan thinks his horns and claws are elegant and imposing - but in bed, it’s his neck and ears that are incredibly sensitive. (I don’t think tiefling horns feel sensation personally).

As for body parts - for Steel Weave Tav, it’s 100% her muscles, especially her biceps. He likes seeing (and feeling) how much stronger she is than him physically. For Catrin, he tried to stop himself having a crush by thinking about her human attributes… and it backfired, filling him with secret, shameful curiosity about her blunt teeth and body hair.

C = Cum

Er… normal? Lmao. This question. Tastes a little bitter and salty, like he is.

D = Dirty Secret

Doesn’t think that his submissive fantasies fit with the competent, self-contained Archmage he’s always pictured himself being… so he is very embarrassed and secretive about them.

E = Experience

Not a lot. I think he’s previously had one or two short relationships, but I think after their mother died, he stopped all of that to work hard and provide for Cal and Lia, with all of his spare time going to studying magic.

I also personally headcanon that he’s never taken it in the ass before, but just because I’m trash who loves him both wanting that and being nervous about it.

F = Favourite Position

On his back, looking up into his partner’s eyes as they either ride him or fuck his ass (with his legs over their shoulders). Plus, from there it’s an easy movement up to sit on his face. I think he likes a lot of different positions though, just as long as he’s getting absolutely fucked senseless. Bent over a desk, face down on a bed…whatever.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He likes some flirty back-and-forth, but mostly he’s serious. He certainly doesn’t like deliberate silliness, but he will crack for moments of amusement if something silly happens - though only with someone he knows well and trusts.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Personally, I headcanon most tieflings not to have body hair at all. I don’t think it really makes sense with the ridges! (And Rolan is so fussy I think he’d get rid of it if he did have it. He likes things neat and orderly).

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

I think that though Rolan isn’t keen on sweeping romantic gestures, he loves very deeply, and on those days when he’s having slower, gentler sex (or had the brat fucked out of him), looks up very adoringly at his partner. I also think he likes to be held tightly when he comes, and when he’s a washed-up, overstimulated wreck.

It takes a lot of trust and intimacy with a partner for him to be able to be honest about his fantasies (and even then, it’s slow going… but without that connection he wouldn’t say anything at all).

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Rolan’s pretty repressed and tries to detach himself from caring about people he knows, because they might interfere with his responsibilities towards Cal and Lia, and with his learning of the Weave. So he often jacks off about getting fucked by anonymous strangers. Once Tav… or Catrin… or whoever… enters the scene, he jacks off over them instead and feels very weird and ashamed about it. (Sorry, I love repressed Rolan. It features a lot in my work lol).

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Firmly a sub (lol, who would have guessed this was my headcanon). The only switching that man does, in my opinion, is between being a well-behaved submissive and a feral, bitchy brat.

I think he likes humiliation more than praise. I know praise kink is a popular Rolan headcanon, but I actually think he finds praise very uncomfortable if he doesn’t feel it’s been immediately earned - so he likes being told he looks good once, but after the fifth compliment he often starts to get irritated. Being told he’s a whiny little slut though? Definitely going to make him whine harder.

I think he enjoys a variety of D/s, humiliation and pain, but especially likes being pushed around and held down (in Steel Weave Tav’s case), or in Catrin’s case, bitten (hard). He also develops a bit of a ravishment fantasy in Planar Tears since he feels so conflicted about his desire for Catrin; his fantasies involve her making that decision for him.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

Balconies, studies, wardrobes, desks. Beds too but a little risk of discovery is fun. Sorcerous Sundries once all the customers have left.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Someone who takes control, shows strength and determination, and who is as hardworking and passionate.

And really, any teasing. A whisper in his ear about how much they’d like to fuck him when they’re somewhere public… a hand slipping up his robe when he’s trying to work… he gets worked up very easily.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think that after Lorroakan’s abuse, Rolan would struggle with face slapping/hitting. I also think that once he becomes Archmage, he prefers not to have visible face or neck bruises, though everywhere else is fair game. (In Planar Tears, he’s sufficiently enamoured by Catrin’s teeth that he throws such caution to the wind… and sometimes regrets it after).

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

I think he enjoys receiving, but LOVES giving. He loves the taste and the sensation, and giving his partner pleasure. It’s also a matter of pride for wizards to have skilled tongues… so I think despite his relative experience he’d put a lot of effort into learning how to give great oral.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Rolan prefers his partner setting the pace, but generally fast and rough. He likes it intense. Exceptions being contented lazy afternoons, or when recovering from some serious magic… but mostly he likes a railing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

I feel like Rolan does not do things by halves. He wouldn’t be super opposed to quickies, just… disappointed by them, when there could be more.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Has a lot of kink interests he wants to try, and is prone to biting off far more than he can chew. Rolan definitely overrates his capacity for pain, tends to be overambitious and doesn’t think enough about his own safety (so he needs a partner to order him to be careful and to push for communication on those subjects when he won’t do it himself).

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Not a lot. Gets overwhelmed very quickly and comes very quickly too unless deliberately edged. Will totally go several times in a day though.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Not at first, but once he gets a supportive partner, and a steady income, I think he’d like to explore a lot of things with toys. Primarily restraints and plugs and spanking implements to be used on him. He would probably get jealous of his partner using toys when his tongue and fingers are right there. (Is that good? Not really. Is it Rolan behaviour?… yes. Lmao)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not at all at the start - he’s way too desperate. After a while, he likes to try it on, but only so that his partner will either pin him down or tell him to shut up before they fuck him harder.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Very fucking loud. He already has a pretty loud, carrying voice… and he’s so easily to overwhelm that there is absolutely no shutting him up. Whimpering, moaning, shouting - he just needs to let those feelings out (for once in his goddamn life).

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Ok well… I love the idea of Rolan’s ears being INCREDIBLY sensitive, to the point of overwhelming him.

I also think that being called Archmage or Master whilst being absolutely, relentlessly put in his place gets him off like nothing else. Oh, you are a powerful wizard, Master Rolan… and also a pathetic little slut who happens to be drooling everywhere.

Finally, I love the idea of him studying sex just as assiduously as magic to please his partner… but being embarrassed and hiding it. Anal training or practising oral techniques or whatever. He’s going to practise, and then absolutely deny having done so, insisting it is simply natural talent.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Has a big dick (though nothing wild) and gets hard very easily, much to his embarrassment. I personally think that he has ridges at the base of his dick, that someone riding it could grind against - but I don’t think he has them on his dick.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

HIGH. Oh my god, he’s had years without it. Once he lets himself feel that need again, he has a lot of lost time to make up for.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I imagine Rolan usually falling asleep very quickly afterwards, because he likes very intense fucking and uses up all his energy. And that man needs some goddamn sleep anyway; he’s probably up reading magic books til late on the nights he’s not getting railed. And sleepy Rolan is So! Fucking! Cute! Case closed, baby.

#rolan #headcanons #just total self-indulgent trash don’t mind me haha #planar tears #steel weave #subby rolan #as always lol

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