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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

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If It All Fell (5)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, references to nonconsensual situations (very brief, nothing graphic, and not Az)

a/n: Hope this clears some stuff up ;) More to come and especially more Az to come. Thank you forever for reading and sharing your thoughts! This is getting me through the semester <3

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 6 ♡

Series Masterlist

Azriel walked you to your room.

He knew exactly where to go, which corners to turn and which to pass, which was very convenient as you still found yourself struggling with the task. The House of Wind, as everyone so lovingly called it, was practically a maze for someone with no memory of its twists and turns. But Azriel had absolutely no trouble getting you to your room.

Once you got to your room, however, he appeared to have many troubles.

“You can come in,” you prompted, looking over your shoulder to find the shadowsinger with his shoes at the threshold. “I promise I just cleaned it. Or, at least I’m pretty sure I cleaned it. It’s hard to know where to put things when I only just started…”

Your voice trailed off. Upon further inspection of the man standing just outside your door, you found that he didn’t simply look hesitant to enter. He had his hands pressed to the doorframe, his head slightly leaned into the room, and his eyes were slowly trailing along your belongings. The expression on his face read as forlorn, but his body read as tense.

He had been here before, obviously. Of course this would be hard for him. You probably had everything in the wrong place and he had just told you about the difficult time he was having—how close the two of you had been before you lost everything.

“Um,” you began, pressing your lips together tightly when his gaze flickered to you. “Maybe you could… or would you mind maybe telling me where my bags are? If you know. Mor gave me a surface-level tour, but she didn’t seem to know everything.”

Azriel looked down to the ground beneath your feet. He blinked back up to meet your eyes. “Of course,” he replied, with so much practiced restraint in his tone you weren’t sure how he gritted out the words.

When he stepped in the room, it felt as if something shifted. He walked between tables and furniture and he fit like a puzzle, his wings never brushing anything, his eyes never casting down to analyze his body in the space. He looked like he belonged—he looked like he completed the space.

Something finally felt right.

Nothing felt right… but this did.

Azriel pushed open the closet doors, rifling through a cabinet you had only glanced at before. After a few silent moments, he walked out with bags in hand. His shadows hadn’t followed him. They drifted towards the bed instead, burrowing into the blankets and pillows until the plush surface became dark.

Azriel zeroed in on them as he placed the bags by your feet, staring off at his shadows as you brought your attention back to him. This close, you were able to catch his scent—the cedar and night-kissed air you’d recognized many times in recent days. But it had been so faint before, like he had been gone for weeks and the scent still lingered, or he had been in the room but only for a brief time. Nothing like now, with his chest only inches from your face.

“They seem to like my bed,” you laughed, just a small, breathy sound. An attempt to diffuse some of the untouched tension in the room.

The side of Azriel’s mouth curled up. You watched it rise, silently relishing in the heat of his body as it radiated into the space between you. “I can see that.”

He wasn’t a man of very many words—that’s something Mor had thankfully shared with you—but you wanted to fight against that. You wanted to hear the soft, low rumble of his voice. You wanted his laugh to spark in the air, to feel his words against your skin as you had just a few moments earlier. Azriel told you he didn’t hate you, that he was close to you, and suddenly the space between you felt impossible.

You just wanted to hear his voice.

“Have I changed things much?” you asked, heart thudding when he brought his gaze down to you. “I don’t know how much time you used to spend in here… or currently spend in here, I suppose—it’s only been a few days—but I’ve moved a few things. If you could tell.”

Azriel took in a long breath. “Actually, you—” he shook his head with an expression you could only decipher as baffled “—you put everything back. Cassian and Feyre, they moved a few things around when you were being brought home. Things that might have… well, we just didn’t want you to be overwhelmed.”

Overwhelmed.

“We should have known that was a ridiculous idea. You’re too brilliant, even without the context.”

Warmth flooded you; one compliment from Azriel and it was as if nothing mattered. You didn’t need your memories, you only needed this.

Azriel’s cheeks colored as if he felt the rush of emotions himself, his eyes bright.

No, that wasn’t right—you needed your memories. You needed to remember each and every time he had looked like this.

“Probably didn’t help that there were a bunch of empty spaces everywhere. If you leave nails on the wall it becomes quite obvious that something belongs there,” you quipped, a small smirk playing at your features.

Azriel laughed. Not a full laugh, but one that you had no idea you were missing before. “I will be sure to pass on the message.”

“Good. Cassian has many messages coming from me, it seems. Conflicting ones as well.”

“Right, of course. I will convey to him that you missed his presence earlier, but also that he is awful at hiding things from an amnesiac.”

“Perfect, thank you, Azriel.”

He gazed upon you, eyes flickering to every corner of your face.

They rested on your lips and then your eyes, trailing up until his hand followed to move the strand of hair that had wisped across your forehead. He brushed it away with delicate fingers, not a touch of hesitancy in them. Like it was natural for him, normal.

And maybe it was.

“I don’t know what to pack,” you whispered, trying to keep some of the lightness in the room. “Can you help? I haven’t a clue where most of my things are and you appear to be much more knowledgeable.”

Azriel drew his hand back, his eyes closing for a few long moments.

You wished you could delve into his mind the way Rhysand could—that you could understand some of the pain written in the tight clench of his eyelids.

“Of course I’ll help you.”

It began with him gathering things from the connected washroom. He entered the tiled room and opened drawers without fault or mistake, collecting perfumes you had been gravitating towards and zipping up products you hadn’t even found yet. He packed your brushes and jewelry as if he’d done this all before, as if your request for help wasn’t really a request, but an expectation.

“Have we traveled together before?” you found yourself asking as you followed behind the shadowsinger, a bag hanging from his arm.

Azriel smiled, turning to you with a glint in his eye. “A few times.”

You were very close friends, then.

Azriel led you back to the closet where he pulled a few articles of clothing from the hangers, holding each out for you to approve before he neatly folded them. You denied nothing, rather surprised by his taste and sense for whatever the weather was like in Day.

He moved further into the closet, half of which was sparsely filled. Maybe you filtered out your clothes with the seasons.

Or maybe something was missing.

Azriel paused.

You watched his scarred fingers brush over the purple dress you had worn on the first day you spoke to him after waking up. He rubbed the material against the pad of his thumb once, and then twice, before closing the closet doors and taking an abrupt step back. You stepped with him.

The shadowsinger said nothing.

“All done?” you asked. “Anything else I would need at Day?”

His shoulders rose and fell. Some of his shadows returned to make revolutions around his body.

“Azriel?”

“I—I’m sorry. Give me a moment.”

The shadowsinger stalked over to the bed, went to sit, but then seemed to think against it and began pacing instead. You tucked your fingers into your palm as you watched him, trying to hide the discomfort you felt as his clear unease.

Had you done something wrong?

Maybe you were being too familiar. This friendship between you was new and comfortable and exciting, but that was for you.

For Azriel, there was a gap, an immense amount of pain and missing connection.

He didn’t hate you, and that was… wonderful news, but this was also uncharted territory.

Maybe you shouldn’t have asked for his help—shouldn’t have invited him in.

“Azriel, I—”

“I need to explain this to you,” Azriel began, running a hand through disheveled locks. “I need you to understand why this is so hard. I don’t want you to assume this is your fault or that this is anything other than what it is.”

You nodded, but he didn’t look up to see your confirmation.

Azriel sighed and his wings flared slightly, returning back to his body in a quivering motion.

“I am terrified, y/n.”

This time, Azriel did look up to catch your gaze.

“I am terrified because this has happened before. It’s like I’m reliving it. Like you’re reliving it but you just don’t remember.”

Your fists unfurled as your brows met a point. “No one’s told me—“

“I know,” he breathed out, defeat the most prominent emotion on his beautiful face. “Last time this happened, the more we told you about the past—about certain aspects of your life—the more it hurt you, y/n. You’d… you’d scream until your lungs gave out every time we tried to share something new. It was like that for weeks.”

The Illyrian forfeited his internal battle with the bed, dropping down into a seat on the foot of it. Unsure of your place within your own room, you simply followed him, standing in front of his bent knees, eyes prompting him to continue.

He watched you as you moved.

“Has anyone told you what you do for this court? Your job?”

You shook your head.

Azriel continued. “You work as an emissary between courts and continents, but that’s more of a cover—a more comprehensible title for those outside of our circle. It’s hard to explain, but that power Rhys mentioned? It’s—it’s as if you have this intuition. For everything. You look at things, at people, and you just… know them. You look past lies and you pick up on things that are seemingly impossible to catch.”

Your head shook as Azriel fumbled over each of his words, confusion swirling in your gut. “That doesn't make any sense. Mor said that Rhys found me working at some boatyard by the Sidra. She said I used to help build vessels—there’s no way I have a power like that.”

“You do,” Azriel affirmed. “Rhys only went to find you because he heard of a girl building boats from memory. You took one look at him and knew what he wanted. Rhys said he barely had to offer you the job.”

It was a struggle not to grind your teeth together in frustration.

You used to know everything.

And now you knew nothing.

Your head began to hurt, or maybe you were just noticing that it had never stopped hurting.

“You said—” you started, tone heavy with vexation. Your eyes couldn’t find a solid place to land “—you said this has happened before. What does that have to do with these powers?”

Sensing the rise in your mood, Azriel seemed to even his own out. A balance between the two of you. You became agitated, he became calm. But you could tell he was struggling.

“Around 270 years ago, after you’d been working for the court for a few decades, Rhys sent you to Day. It was routine. You were going to gather information for a High Lord’s summit meant to take place there, but really, Rhys wanted you to scope out the area. To get insight on any plans, any secret dealings. You were meant to be gone for a few days at the most.”

Azriel’s fists clenched atop his knees. His face remained impassive.

“You were gone for six months. Gone. No one could reach you, Helion had assumed you went home already. It was right after you and I… became friends, so I was worried for you. More than the others, but no one was without worry. We found you eventually, but you—”

Something choked. Azriel choked. His head hung down and you replayed the last few of his words in your mind—the way they tightened and then tapered off.

This was too much.

Conveying comfort in the only way you knew how—in the way this family tended to love—you stepped between Azriel’s legs and brought a hand to his cheek, raising his face until his glassy eyes came into view.

“You don’t have to talk about this,” you whispered. “If it’s too hard, we can stop.”

Azriel’s jaw quivered. His next words seemed to tumble from his mouth without warning.

“Fuck, I miss you.”

It was simple instinct that led to your reply. “I’m right here.”

Something stirred within you, tugging lightly. Your heart, you deduced, beating so fast it was playing tricks on you. The shadowsinger in your hands twisted slightly, just barely so that the corner of his mouth touched your palm. Your heart tugged again.

“You didn’t remember anything, like now,” Azriel revealed, speaking just as you were about to pull away. You stopped yourself, feeling as if your touch was an encouragement to speak. “It was worse though, you were in so much pain. Any time you tried to remember anything, or even just tried to learn, it was like you were being pierced through the skull. You—you screamed so much.

“But it didn’t take us very long to figure it out. My spies in Day found the culprit and it was easy to capture him. He was weak. Strong powers, but weak in every other sense of the word. It was another Daemati—like Rhys. He became infatuated with you during your time in Day. He knocked you out, found a way to use your powers against you, to make them hurt.”

Azriel shuddered. His mouth got closer to your hand like he was leaning into it.

“It took a few weeks to get him to fix it. But those months, y/n—the time you were gone. You don’t remember them. I can only imagine what you went through. And when we brought you home you hurt so badly. So that's why… why us going back there is hard. Because this is all so similar and if it’s happening again I can’t…”

“Azriel,” you softly called, sure that this was the most amount of speaking the shadowsinger had done in a while. Sure that he needed a break. A respite. “It’s not the same, is it? You know that. My head hurts, but not like that. I don’t struggle to be reminded of the past. I learn new things. There is no evil villain waiting to take me away.”

“Y/n—”

“It’s not the same. I might not have access to these all-encompassing powers you speak of, but I can tell you that much. I’m sorry for what you went through before—that you had to watch a member of your family go through that then and then now… but it’s different. It’s different and I’ll be okay.”

His pond water eyes stared back at you as you attempted a reassuring smile. You felt his knees press against your thighs where you stood between them, and the pressure spurred you on. You ran your thumb along the high point of his cheek, relishing in the flutter of his lashes, gravitating towards him to relish in that closeness as well. This moment felt like yours, and something was telling you it was yours. That no one else could have this with him.

But you didn’t have your powers, your fae abilities, so maybe that feeling was nothing but hope.

Your thudding heart lulled you into a long breath.

“Maybe, if it would put you at ease, you could stay with me while we’re in Day? At my side, I mean. You could whisper everyone’s names into my ear so I don’t look like a fool and make sure I don’t get lost—”

“Yes,” Azriel replied, sure and resolute with no traces of the impending tears that had made his hazel eyes a pretty pool just moments before. “I won’t leave your side once. I promise.”

His devotion made you pause, surprise evident in the rapid blinking of your eyes. You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn’t need to promise something so taxing, but determination had set in his brow, and Azriel—your friend—wanted this. Needed this.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you, Azriel. For telling me all of this even though it was hard. For being here for me even though I know that’s hard, too. You’re a wonderful friend. I can’t wait to continue to find that out. I promise to be just as wonderful.”

“You are already the most wonderful thing in my life.”

Part 6 ♡

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #azriel #if it all fell

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rainyvandragon · 3 months

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Oh those precious memories~

See I could tell myself that it's okay that I'm writing this because I am a catholic woman but let's be real those things just aren't true any more. So instead I am going to claim this as an emotional craving because of that time of the month. Definitely nothing along the lines of 10 year revival of my fanfiction writing phase. And it's totally, in no way related to any issues I might have. Totally sane, I tell you.

! 18+ Minors do not interact, I am NOT a fckn daycare!

Yandere! Hazbin Hotel x GN! Reader

Content warning: obsessive behaviour, stalking, slight NSFW (more in some parts then others), just a bunch of red flags and things that I do not condone irl

Charlie:

Honestly Charlie might be the most sane of the bunch in this regard

She isn't to interested in stealing anything from you, that is just not something she would be comfortable with – in general but especially with her Darling

However she doesn't mind keeping things that you let her borrow

It doesn't even matter what

You gave her a hair tie because one of hers broke? She'll cherish it forever

It was raining on a day she had to go out and you suggested she could use your umbrella? Pretty much hers now

Of course the greatest thing for her would be you lending her some of your clothes

She would most likely spend the next nights cuddling up to it in bed

Oh the frustration when the fabric no longer smells like you but rather her!

Yeah sure, she can give you your things back. She just forgot them in her room, oops! Don't worry she'll get them later

Unless she forgets again...

Vaggie:

She would never take anything you truly need or value

In all seriousness, Vaggie could never stand the idea of inconveniencing her Darling

However unlike Charlie she is just not close enough with you (yet) to count on you giving things to her

So instead she uses the position she has in the Hotel

There was a movie night with everybody invited?

Well somehow ever since the clean up the blanket you were cuddled up in is gone. Oh well, Vaggie will just get a new one, they weren't that expensive to begin with anyway (and if she is fast enough with it nobody is even going to notice anything)

Sadly those lucky occasions that allow her to grab some reminders of your shared time don't come around to often

And Vaggie respects you and herself to much to steal from you or go through your garbage bin

Thankfully she has the patience to wait for those windows of opportunity

And hey, since everything went relatively smoothly this week why not suggest another movie night to Charlie? Everyone involved seemed to enjoy it anyway – so there really is no harm done, right?

Angel:

Anybody who immediately thought of Angel stealing his Darling's underwear needs to take a cold shower!

Now don't get me wrong – he has thought about it

He does have a relatively high drive and desire for intimacy and sex

So sure the idea of taking something rather personal from you did cross his mind

But deep down Anthony just is a little sweetheart and he just couldn't take something like your underwear or other intimate items from you without any sort of consent

As for other, less private things

It doesn't matter if Angel and you have the same of different sizes – he WILL steal your clothes and wear them

If you wear make-up or nail polish he will definitely “borrow” things – especially lipstick

Now if his Darling is somebody who likes to keep a lot of pillows or plushies in bed he is definitely not shy about taking things from that pile either. Although, depending on how well Darling keeps track of those things, he might only borrow them for a night or two – maybe rotating between some, making sure to leave them under the bed upon returning so it looks like it just fell off the mattress

Alastor:

Now Alastor is already rather torn apart when he first noticed his desire for your belongings

He never once though about stealing from you...until you forgot something in the lobby – a book, notebook, pen, whatever it was – it was just lying there on the table next to the couches

Ever the gentleman he obviously wanted to return it to you but something inside of him fought against the very idea of it. This might be the closet he gets to having you (at least for now), his Darling

As his obsession towards you continues to grow some of his past life's interests stir awake inside of him

One day whilst helping out you cut yourself on some damaged bit of furniture. Alastor is immediately there to offer you a handkerchief to stop the bleeding – a handkerchief that quickly becomes one of his most prised possessions

If his Darling has a period he might steal some...used goods

However in comparison to some of the others, he is a lot less hungry for souvenirs

Although that is really just because, unlike them, he can use his shadows to be around you whenever and as close as he pleases

Husk:

Husk would never just go into his Darling's room to steal things from them – even if the idea sounds lovely

No instead he just checks for things you leave behind

Now his job at the hotel really helps him with that

You almost exclusively talk at the bar (“Redemption Based Group Exercises” being the only real exception)

At this point he has a rather large collection of napkins that you used or doodled on

Sometimes they disgust him but then he looks at them, the little doodles (even just to test a pen) you left on some of them, all those marks of you (bonus points for lipstick stained napkins) and he just can't

The guilty feelings are even worse with a tissue you once cried it. It's just to close of a reminder of you to throw away!

Anything small that you forget at or close to the bar gets saved by him – pens, small pieces of paper, hair ties, buttons from your clothes, whatever really. If it's small and unimportant enough for you to not really miss it he is going to keep it

Nifty:

Nifty is easily the worst of them all

She is small, fast, obsession driven and the hotel's maid on top of that

What matters most to her is how close to your body her little mementos are (it's pretty much the same way in wish the catholic church determines the value of a saint's relic)

Nifty will most definitely collect hair out of your brush

Or rummage through your garbage bins

Now if somebody is going to steal used period products!

She just really doesn't value her Darling's privacy in the slightest so she has no issues going through every little crevice of your room to look for some “hidden treasures”

Although her favourite thing to do is sleep in your used bedsheets

She is going to wash them – don't worry! Simply just not without first sleeping in them herself for a bit

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Welp this is the first time in a long while that I've actually written fanfiction so I got those emotions to sort through I guess.

English is not my first language however given how arrogant I can be regarding my skills this should be well enough written. Prove reading was done by Open Office's spell checking system and my high ass.

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s-4pphics · 5 months

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click! 1 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a reputation :p, they’re both rude as shit, crack, all ocs are black coded yeeahhh yeah, awkward meetings, slut-shaming, brief cunninglingus, mention of eviction, smut later yall know tha vibes

two. three. four.

A/N: short part just stay w me lemme cook... excited 2 write this lets get this shit yall

“W-What do you mean you’re moving?”

Your roommate and best friend wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you close. Tears flooded in your eyes as she whispered the daunting news, your heart cracking in your chest.

“I’m moving soon, stink.” Too soon, according to her. She’ll be gone by next week. Amaya snickered sadly as she cooed in your temple. “It's for good reason, though.”

Your ears perk, a curious hum vibrating her shoulder.

“I got that internship— “

All sadness melds into excitement for your favorite person. You leap into her arms with squeals of congratulatory joy, planting smacking kisses all over her squishy cheek.

“Oh my god! You should’ve said that first, bitch! What the fuck!” You wipe your tears on her hoodie.

Her laughter rattles through your neck, “I just found out after class! I almost got hit by a fucking bus reading the email.”

Amaya sets you down, rambles about her new position as a songwriting intern spilling from her like an overfilled glass. Tears of joy flow from you and her as she retells every detail about her acceptance. She’s leaving in a week and a half and going farther than you thought.

“Girl… you’re really moving to New York?”

“Only for like… four months, max. But yeah… Boutta be on BET come next year— “

“Maya.”

“Hm?”

“… I can’t pay rent by myself,” you whisper, cringing and embarrassed.

You hate to ruin her moment, but you’re concerned; Living off campus isn’t cheap and moving in the middle of the semester is less than ideal. It’d be a fucking hassle, and — to be frank — you’re not a people person.

People like having you around because you’re fun, sure. But your reputation isn’t what you hoped for it to be when you moved out of your dad’s place for school. You wanted to be recognized for your creativity, and while your professors never hesitated to praise your talents, your peers failed to see past the status that was placed upon you.

Frankly, you’re deemed as a dumb whore, especially after your falling out with one of the campuses best softball pitchers.

It wasn’t even your fault. One raunchy snap to the wrong person and people think you live for sex and sex only! Just when you think everyone is over slut-shaming…

“You thought I was gonna leave you to fend for yourself? Guess what I did.”

Oh God. “What?”

She twiddles her fingers together villainously, “I may or may not have set up an application on the student homepage— “

The small glimmer of hope washes away, shoulders dropping, fingers coming up to massage your temples.

“Maya…” You exhale, trying to keep calm, “You know those things don’t fucking work!”

Roommate compatibility is a fucking scam. No one ever notes how they actually are in the application. You think you’ve found someone that’s clean, quiet, stays out of your space without permission and the next day you find dead roaches under your couch. College attendees have no idea what bleach is and it makes you sick.

“Damn… you’re usually optimistic.”

“I’m optimistic about good ideas. I’m gonna be living with a fucking freak from Craigslist, thanks a lot.”

“C’mooon! You’ll be fine, babe, trust me.” Amaya wraps her arms around your neck once more, wetly smacking your cheek before turning to paddle to her room. “Plus, you’ll meet someone new!”

When you don't follow, she spins. She must’ve noticed your impassiveness, poutingly asking to help me pack? Tears overwhelm your ducts once more, quietly taking her extended hand as she leads you to her bedroom.

DAY ONE of roommate searching began, and you were already prepared to move back in with your dad. Amaya had enough time to orchestrate the housing agreement with you, making sure to highlight some of your most important characteristics in a roommate. One of the main ones being cleanliness. Some form of organization.

DAY TWO was easier… Someone finally made it to the in-person interview stage. They didn’t make it far, though; They wouldn’t stop smacking their gum and it drove you crazy. Back to square one.

DAY SIX came around and you were losing hope; Why are frat boys applying to live with you? You’d rather jump into oncoming traffic than house with any of Abby’s annoying, dirty friends. You've seen their house on numerous occasions and it never fails to make your skin crawl.

It’s DAY THIRTEEN, and Amaya’s gone. After the sobbing fit with your best friend at the airport earlier, you got back to work.

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

…

DENY REQUEST.

You sigh in exhaustion and lean back in your chair. If you don't take a break from your screen in the next five seconds, your eyes will bleed.

Why are people… so odd?

The number of applications you’ve had to deny in the last week is criminal; Why are cis-het men continuously filling out applications knowing they’re not welcome in your space?!

Even the people that made it to the in-person interview stage are incapable of being… not strange. You’d rather die than live with someone who collects dead maggots in mason jars (yes, you did almost call the police when they described their fascination with death in depth)!

All you need is one fruitful application with an identity to match! Just one.

Amaya still calls from New York whenever she has a moment of peace to see how the roomie-search is going, but you can’t ignore the sadness that fills your heart every time she misses a call. Her laughter is gone, and your day-to-day life feels empty.

They’re already working your bestie to the bone; You hope she can feel your encouragement from thousands of miles away.

You scroll and click, scroll and click, scroll and deny deny deny until you pause, your eyes skimming over the application with a familiar name.

ELLIE WILLIAMS.

Ellie from stats, you instantly recognize. Curiosity perks and your brows furrow, sipping lukewarm tea as you skim over her contact information, her pet preferences, all the way down to her additional commentary. A snicker left at her blunt statement.

temporary request. my last roommate moved and i’m poor. just waiting on this job approval.

… Ellie in a nutshell. How relatable.

At least she’s not a complete stranger. Every interaction with her stirs in your mind as you jot her number down on a lone sticky-note. They were nothing special from your perspective: the two of you exchanging notes, her holding the door open as everyone scurried out of class, you asking for a pencil (and her asking for it back after the lecture), and you can’t help but wonder why she would want to apply to share a space with anyone, let alone you.

She's only ever been described as standoffish by your peers. From the outside, Ellie’s blank. Flat tone, flat expression, plain appearance, and the fact that you never know what she’s thinking is unsettling. You’re thrown off your game whenever she’s near and you hate it.

But the spot is temporary; Amaya will be back in a couple of months, and it seems Ellie’s leaving sometime soon by her small note.

You down the rest of your tea and stretch where you sit, pondering. Trying to imagine Ellie in your space.

“I don’t know why I can’t take Maya’s spot. I’d make an excellent roommate.”

Your expression flattens, glare piercing through your good friend.

Abby scoffs, “C’mooon! I mind my business...” She pauses, leaning across the table, nearly knocking your coffee over. Her whispers send a shock down your spine, “…and I give good head. I’m a package deal.”

A brow raises. Abby’s sweeter than candy and she puts it down, but you already made the mistake of living with someone you fucked before, and you vowed to never do it again. If Amaya hadn’t given you a place to stay after the blow up between you and your ball-throwing sneaky link, you’re not sure where you'd be. Definitely not a student; The stress would’ve forced you to collapse. And drop out.

“Sorry, stink. Not happening.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever.” She takes a sip from her drink, “Can’t believe you’d let that freak in before me.”

You pause. “You’re a freak, too— “

“I’m the good kind!” She searches like someone’s watching her, voice dropping to a whisper, “Ellie’s fucking weird, dude. When’s the last time you’ve seen her interact with anyone? A literal fucking NPC. All she’s programmed to do is stand and look.”

“And give out pencils,” You interject with a snicker, “Who cares. I don’t like most of the idiots here, either. I barely put up with your ass.”

Abby raises her glove-covered palms in surrender, “Fuck it. When I see an alert about a missing student, I’ll know who it is.”

“You’re so fucking extra— “

DING!

Your neck cranes towards the opening cafe door, shock surging through your body at the sight of the NPC in question. Ellie silently stands at the back of the line, headphones secured on her head and nose red from the cold, classically bored expression plastered on her face.

“Oh, this is hilarious,” Abby huffs, “Go greet your new housemate.”

Another glare is sent in her direction, “Can you shut up? Her name’s not on any lease. I barely talked to her.”

“Do it now, then. Triple dog dare you.” Abby smirks behind her cup.

You sigh and raise from your seat, “You’re a cunt.”

“The wettest. Go.”

You flick her forehead before making your way over to Ellie, who’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone. Her sniffles get louder with each step you take, metal music blasting through her speakers.

You tap her shoulder and she jumps, sliding one of her ear cups over to hear.

“Hey, Ellie,” you smile politely.

“… Sup,” she mutters hoarsely, turning her body towards you, eyes filled with… nothing. Expected.

Silence passes, and you fill it, “I got your app yesterday. Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”

“Alright.”

More silence. You can see Abby out the corner of your eye, mockingly swiping her tongue between her index and middle finger. You flush and stutter, and Ellie’s staring like you have two heads.

“I, uh… yeah. I’ve been having interviews with some people that submitted a form. You free sometime this week?”

“Uhh…” She glances down at her phone. “Yeah. Around five tomorrow.”

More silence. Fuck, this is awkward.

“… Cool.” You pull your phone out and text her saved number, the alarm ringing from her phone. “That’s me. Just call before you stop by.”

She nods and turns her back to you, cranking her music to full volume. You gawkily shuffle where you stand before hustling back to your table, Abby cackling to herself. You plop down and kick her under the table, but she laughs harder.

“What’d I say!”

“Not a thing,” You hiss, “She’s just a little awkward. It’s not that serious.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Oh yeah what.”

“She’s definitely your fucking housemate.” She tsks in disappointment before a smirk appears, her eyes darkening. “Can I eat it one last time before she moves in?”

A jolt surges in your tummy, your hand closing into a fist. You kick her again and she giggles.

Time passes as you and Abby’s conversation carries on like normal. Another ding rings through the coffee shop after some time, and you watch Ellie’s backpack bounce as she rushes down the sidewalk; Abby’s rambles about a soccer player she’s trying to smash sound like gibberish.

Ellie has a Spider-Man charm and laminated polaroid latched onto her zipper.

… Cute.

You’re going to fail statistics over a random.

Your professor’s voice sounds like white noise; Every pause she takes is used as an opportunity to sneak glances at Ellie. None of your notes are useful; The doodles and sloppy scribbles are solidifying that incoming F, for sure. Only fifteen minutes until you’re out of here.

She’s two seats down from you, jotting down whatever she deems necessary for the midterm. You didn’t even register her answering the professor’s question, her rosy lips curving around her teeth with each syllable.

Ellie blinks slowly, twice, three times before her eyes lock with yours, brows furrowed, evidently confused at your gawking.

Your stomach drops with your gaze, fingers curled tightly around your pencil.

The lecture finally comes to a close as your thoughts flurry, wordlessly shoving your books into your bag. A light tap on your shoulder yanks your attention.

Ellie stands before you, puffer cinched under the bands of her backpack and cheeks just as rosy as before.

“Hey. Can we switch the time?”

“Huh?” Don’t stare, don’t stare.

She sighs, “The time for the interview. Can we change it?”

You blink dumbly, “Uh… sure. To what time?”

Agitation creases her brows. “Now. Something came up and I can’t miss it.” She pauses, eyes flicking awkwardly around the room, weakly adding, “If that’s okay.”

“Um… yeah, no problem…” You peer at the clock on the wall, “You want a coffee?”

A slight wince from her. “… Yup.”

She clearly doesn’t by the way her fingers are anxiously tapping on her thigh, but you nod nonetheless, hurriedly grabbing your belongings and leading her down to the student lounge.

“I don’t want you thinking this interview is one-sided,” You pray your gentle smile is calming the evident nerves of the freckled girl. “You can ask me anything you want, as well. If you have any concerns, any questions, shoot.”

Ellie’s eyes are glued to her coffee cup, but her head bobs, expression void. Silence simmers between you.

“I usually start these off with an icebreaker to get the jitters out! Just list three facts about yourself and I’ll follow.”

Ellie’s lone hand comes up to scratch underneath her ear before meeting your gaze. Her eyes are so pretty; Too bad there’s nothing behind them.

“Or I can go, sure, so!” Your hands clap together, “I’ll start with myself. I’m majoring in graphic design, I’m secretly a theater nerd, and I dream about owning an eggplant farm.”

The girl before you clearly didn't expect that last statement. Her brows crease and the corner of her lip arches upward in a barely-there smile. Foreign to her face.

“That’s not a fact,” She mutters, the shell in her pupils cracking. Just slightly.

“Who cares, I love eggplant. Best vegetable by a landslide.”

“Sike.”

You scoff in disbelief, “What?”

“Everybody on the planet knows that squash is god-tier— “

You squint, “Squash? Are you deadass?”

“It’s fucking versatile!” Ellie’s voice pitches higher, and your grin widens, “You can put it in everything and you don’t have to do much. Eggplant sucks up everything in the pan and still comes out soggy and tasteless— “

Choked laughter leaves your mouth, “If you don’t know how to cook, just say that.”

Her mouth drops in exaggerated shock. “I know how to fuckin’ cook.”

“Right.”

“I do, what the he— “

“Fun fact about Ellie: she can’t cook!” You kiddingly sneer. She chuckles and shakes her head, tongue poking the inside of her cheek. You almost miss her statement, “I take pictures.”

“Hm?”

“I wanna be a professional photographer... At some point. I take pic— “

Ellie’s phone vibrates on the table and she leaps into action, snatching her bag from beside her and standing from her seat.

“Wait— “

“I gotta go,” She mutters as she straps her bag around her shoulders. “Sorry. See you later.”

Ellie throws some bills on the table before dipping, her phone pressed against her ear, rambling about making time. She barely touched her coffee.

Could’ve been worse, you utter to yourself.

Days pass, and you don’t hear from Ellie.

When you saw her in stats two days after the interview, she hardly acknowledged you, morphing into the hermit that you knew her to be. You noted how tired she looked, though. You would’ve asked if she were okay if she hadn’t run out of class without a word.

You’re weighing your options: allowing a random oddball into your apartment, or allowing a random oddball who hates eggplant into your apartment. Rent is due next week, and Amaya’s space is still vacant.

At this point, the roster is almost nonexistent, and Ellie was the least concerning candidate. Despite Abby’s concern, she doesn’t seem like the type of person to bury dead bodies in the front lawn.

“I dunno, friend. She’s a little weird. Getting mad incel vibes from her.”

Your eyes roll back into your skull as you munch on cashews, “You’re getting vibes from someone you never talked to. She seemed cool at the interview.”

“Yeah, 'cause vegetable debates are so note-worthy,” Amaya scoffs.

She’s starting to sound a little too much like Abby, “I think y’all are forgetting that this is a temporary solution. I’m not tryna spend the rest of my fucking life with her! I need rent paid and she needs a place to stay for a few months.”

Your best friend’s sigh drags through the line, “Alright… It seems like you made up your mind.”

“Like I said, rent is due. I don’t have many options.”

“Stop stressing. You found my replacement, apparently.”

She pauses before hollering, “BITCH, IT’S SATURDAY! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INSIDE? WHERE’S ABBY?”

“Out smashing soccer players.” You huff.

“Damn… My fault.”

“I’m chilling. I just need head.”

“Go out! Find somebody!”

You groan, “Then I’ll have to shave— “

“Nair exists, you bonehead! Just go! You keep calling in a bad mood and it’s getting on my nerves!”

You ponder and glance at your digital clock. It’s not even ten… Abby did tell you that Kappa was throwing.

“I can hear the engines turning in your big head. Bye.”

Laughter explodes from you at the dial tone.

“Hey, Siri… call Abby.”

“CALLING ABBY BIG DICK SLUT— “

Tonight has been a blur since you left your apartment.

You remember making it halfway through Blam Boom before your speaker died, downing your last couple of shots of 1800, and Ubering to the location Abby pinged.

It only took a few minutes for her to scoop you up onto the packed kitchen counter and shove her tongue in your mouth. One shout of I’m horny from you and she was yours for the rest of the night.

Now you’re pressed up against some bathroom sink upstairs, Abby’s head shaking between your legs, your jeans and underwear flung onto the shower rail. Each flick of her tongue is both clumsy and precise, applying pressure exactly where you need it.

Your clit’s throbbing under her tongue, the muscle igniting the flame in your tummy as your climax builds, zaps in your spine. Cries of her name meld with the booming music from outside, the walls rattling like nerves in your toes.

Abby’s gorgeous under you, you know it, the drunk part of your brain knows it, your desperate cunt knows it, but you’re no longer thinking about her compared to earlier. Your mind is elsewhere, somewhere it shouldn’t be.

You’re thinking of freckles. Green eyes instead of blue. Chapped, rosy lips, and you don’t know why. But you succumb to it. Ellie’s trapped underneath your eyelids, crowding your senses, your empty head suddenly full of images of her in any way you could conjure.

Your orgasm shatters you, but you’re silent, trembling hand glued over your mouth as Abby groans in your cunt. She’s a doll, easing you back down to earth, dragging your underwear and pants up your shaky legs and getting you back home safely.

When you’re showered and your teeth are brushed, she tucks you in, gently kissing your forehead. You beg her to stay with you, but she declines with I know how you get before silently departing.

Your phone is squeezed between your fingers after minutes of trying to sleep, eyeing Ellie’s saved contact until darkness overtakes you.

The pounding on your door is worse than the ones from inside your skull. Fuck Tequila, from the bottom of your heart. Waves of nausea crash over you with every waddle, hobbling your hunched form over to yank the front door open.

A bored Ellie stands in front of you, a large camera and headphones hanging from her neck, seemingly cozy in her sweater and puffer, large duffel bags packed to the brim with clothes dangling from her shoulders. Your cheeks warm instantly. Gray sweats, gray sweats—

“I’m here,” She states plainly.

“… Why?” You croak.

Ellie’s seems just as confused as you, her eyes piercing as if her appearance is obvious.

“To move in.”

“… Why?”

Ellie sighs and snags her phone from her jacket pocket, swiping a few times before nearly blinding you with her screen.

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. When the fuck did you send that?

“So, I’m here,” she slips her device back in her pocket. “Which room am I in?”

“E-Ellie, uh… there's been a mis— “

“Look,” she holds her pale, veiny hands up. “I don’t wanna beat around the bush anymore. I got evicted and I need a place to stay until I secure this job. I’m willing to put down whatever’s needed for rent but I don’t have time to bullshit.”

Ellie proceeds, sarcasm slipping, “Respectfully.”

She pushes past your stunned form, bags accidentally brushing against your bare legs. You can't even move to stop her; You merely watch Ellie shuffle to inspect the living room, the small kitchen, pausing in front of the abstract painting you made for your dad before eventually moving down the hall and into Amaya’s empty space. How the fuck did she get in the building, anyway?

Your deer-like eyes lock with her void, mossy ones as she peers over her shoulder.

“I still have some stuff to pick up. Please leave my key under the mat if you go somewhere.”

Before she enters the empty room next to yours, you hear her gruffly say, “Leave the lease on the table so I can sign it, too.”

Amaya’s — Ellie’s door slams shut seconds later, the soft click of the door locking follows suit.

…

What the fuck just happened. Gall almost surpasses your anger. The audacity...

For the first time, you’re grateful that your shift is in two hours. You need to get the fuck out of here before you cause a scene and catch a case.

tagggiiiesss missed yall ;3 : @starologist @hrtmal @ohlawdthebirds @villainousbear @timmy-27 @inf3ct3dd @aouiaa @shurisbigtoe @emothurman @lonelyfooryouonly @imelliesgf @baumbii @brackishkittie @littletinyladybugs @r1miese @horror-whoree @elsbunny222 @elliesatchel @makemescreamel @lav3nd3rhaze @elliezflower @ellieloml @ellies-princess @saverdelrey @womenofarcane

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams x reader #lesbian #black!oc #black!reader #ellie williams tlou #works 𖧧࣪#click! ☾⋆⁺₊📸✧

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kechiwrites · 6 months

Text

gentle touch

könig x massage therapist!reader kinktober countdown day 5 (body worship)

synopsis: oh, the military boys were your favourite.

wc: 2.8k

cw: massage therapist reader doing bad medical-ish practice, body worship, light sub!konig, mentions of edging, hand jobs, a little oral as a treat, biting, konig being petnamed as he should (honey), size kink, hints at touch starvation, groping, begging, uncut konig, afab!reader, no gendered pronouns or language.

author's note: i know his dick hex code and it's glorious. mdni.

He’s your last appointment of the day. And what a fucking day it had been, ten hours that should’ve been eight, cinnamon scented candles instead of eucalyptus, a rushed lunch because a client had shown up early, not taking “I’m on break” for an answer.

You knock on the faux bamboo door, waiting for your appointment to allow you entry. When he does, so quietly you almost miss it, you open the door, only for your eyes to land on a broad, strong back, still wrapped in a dark grey long sleeve. He turns slightly, just enough for you to see the thin stubble on his chin, cheek and jaw.

"Hello! I didn't catch you undressing did I?" This time he turns all the way around and you are sure your swallow is audible. Hell, you hope it's audible, you want this dude to know just how impressed you are with what you're seeing.

"No." He shakes his head, rubbing his aquiline nose against the inside of his wrist. It must’ve been broken once before, if the uneven bump on his bridge is anything to go by. Why is that hot? That shouldn’t be hot. You eat up the motion, eyes tracking every twitch or movement of his massive arms.

“Oh…" you're ogling him. You need to stop ogling him. "I actually need you to strip down.” The words burn on your tongue. You must say that a thousand times a work week, but this time, when you say it to him, it sounds…dirty. Like a shitty porn set up. Makes your clean white polo feel vacuum sealed to your skin. He takes a step towards you and you shudder a breath, tensing until you realize he’s getting closer to the lockers to your left.

He’s huge, you think, and when he still doesn’t look up at you, content to let the strands of dark brown hair, nearly black hair, hang in his face, you figure he’s shy too.

Cute.

“And you can use the towel to maintain modesty, Mr. König.” You get the inflection of his name wrong, you know because you’d googled it prior, held your phone to your ear in the staff washroom and listened to a soft spoken German man lilt it to you. There’s a hard ‘g’ on the end where it shouldn’t be, and you apologize, trying again to master it. “König.”

“Right.” He murmurs, “Just around my waist, yes?”

Or it could go on the floor and I could rub my clit on your abs.

“Yes, sir. Around your waist.”

You exit the room, closing it softly behind you. You figure you’ll use the few minutes you have to get a bottle of water, or a sedative. Something strong enough to bring you back down to your customary professional detachment.

When you return, he’s where you expect him to be. Face down on his stomach, his head in the cushioned hole. “S-sorry.” He speaks, voice muffled by his position. The apology comes immediately upon the sound of the door closing and you worry his large frame has cracked the massage table or something. You peer around him, looking for any chunks of polished wood or loose screws.

When you don’t find anything you realize he’s apologizing for his scars, the pit marks of bullets dug out in haste and healed with spite, lacerations haphazardly stitched, then redone a second time with the careful, practiced hands of a doctor in no rush.

“Oh, please don’t be. We get military boys all the time. Nothing I haven’t seen before.” You murmur, and it’s a lie of course. Not that you’ve seen scars, of course, you’ve seen some really storied skin in your time here, being near a base and all. No, it was the man who was an oddity. Mandy at the front desk told you that he’d had to duck through the front door.

His skin is also ultra pale in a way military men usually aren't. Near transparent, the sprawling blue lines of his veins thread underneath his skin, and you can see yourself getting distracted tracing some of the pathways with your fingers.

He hums, and you hope you’ve put him at ease a little bit. You haven’t even touched him yet and the tension in his back is glaring. Anxious people tended to hold a lot of stress, anxious soldiers? You’re just glad he’d booked a two hour instead of the customary hour and twenty.

The oil is cold straight from the bottle and you warm it between your palms before you make contact. He’s warm to the touch, bridging on hot, and he flinches when your hands meet his skin. “Was that too cold?” He groans, but doesn’t affirm or deny it, so you figure it must just be the contact. Slowly, you begin with his calves, tending to and pushing on knotted muscle and tense areas, working out kink after kink, soothing his compounded aches. The oil smoothes down his leg hair and you must be going insane because even that is hot to you. His thighs are even worse, strong and muscled and dimpled in the sweetest places. He shivers when your palms glide over his inner thighs, and he clenches them together when your fingers brush the hem of the towel shielding his ass from your greedy view. As quickly as it happens, he relaxes, murmuring another apology. You hum your own response, and push your thumb into an adorable cluster of moles you see just under the towel.

By the time you get to his lower back, König is almost purring, his gentle breathing often interrupted by drawn out, guttural moans. Whines and whimpers that make your blood hot. He’s holding the worst of his tension there, and you have to lean almost all your body weight into the motions of the massage. His hips jerk up and then down just as sharply when you crest your palm over her shoulder blades, and you don’t imagine the keening noise he makes as he grips the massage table. You’re used to military clients being a lot more stoic but it seems Mr. König is most assuredly not the sort. You reach his neck, framing his throat with your palms and using your thumbs to rub firm circles into his nape. His breath hitches and you find yourself cooing. “Breathe for me, I got you.” The soldier’s hips snap downward again, this time hard enough to shift the table beneath him. Which is more than enough to make you pause.

No.

It couldn’t be.

The soft music and sound of the water feature on the wall nearly drown out the curse König whispers, but you catch it, and can’t stop your lips from curling into a pleased little smile. This was just too good. You start to finish up his neck, brushing some of his hair out of the way so you can rub your fingertips into the skin just below his earlobes. You guide him to turn over and when he doesn’t respond, you wonder if he’d fallen asleep.

“Mr. König?”

He makes a wordless groaning noise low in his throat, laying motionless.

“I need you to turn over, honey.” You don’t even realize you’ve pet-named a grown man you don’t know. Which is just as well, because it seems to be what the soldier needs, and he rises from the table, clutching the towel in a tight fist to maintain his scant modesty.

You turn towards the side table, pouring more oil into your palm. When you return to face him, you witness why exactly he was so reluctant to face the ceiling.

He’s at least half-hard, a very noticeable ridge lifting his towel. You can’t stop staring at it, even though you know König is trying his best to ignore it. You circle around him, and begin at the foot of the table, going through the massage cycle again; feet, calves, thighs, arms. You zone out, following through your motions, listening to the man beneath groan and sigh his contentment. You reach his chest, spreading your hands over his pecs. They’re big, just like the rest of him, you think and it’s hard not to fucking drool on him. He’s firm but soft, still pleasantly warm, despite being exposed to slightly below room temperature air. He shifts again when you hit a stubborn knot right below his collarbone, and you pause to check in.

“Still good?”

His breathing is uneven, shuddering and laboured. His hands clench and relax from white knuckled fists.

“Yes.” he hisses through gritted teeth, and you’re worried he’s undoing every bit of relaxation you’ve tried to bring him. It’s painfully clear where the stress is coming from, hidden underneath a paltry white towel, the enticing elephant in the room. You put your hands back on him.

Still got 45 minutes left, after all.

You try your best not to look smug, and you fail miserably.

Every stroke and rub you perform across his chest makes his cock jerk and twitch under the towel. You can practically see the cloudy drops of precum that’d be beading as his tip. Your thumb nail skates across his pectoral and catches his nipple and the whine he makes is so sweet you just have to do it again. Soon, you’re barely massaging him, groping the poor man under the guise of your job. A weak grunt snaps you out of your reverie, and when you glance down his abdomen at that godforsaken towel, you can’t stop the quiet gasp of shock you release at his erection. “Ah, I’m so sorry. Very sorry” His flush spreads from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, a gorgeous stewed cherry colour that overwhelms the pale skin you’d worked into submission. His eyes are screwed shut when you can bear to drag your eyes from his cock to his face. His soft, pink mouth is pulled down at the corners, and the heavy, dark slashes of his eyebrows are furrowed together, creating a wrinkle between them you want to smooth out with a kiss.

“It happens all the time. Are you alright to continue?” Your voice is deceptively calm, serene and soft, when all you really want to do is snatch the towel off the battering ram he’d smuggled in here. Your blood thrums, and you ache at the sight of it, at the mere thought of the ungodly stretch he’d put you through.

You will yourself to keep your hands where they are, force yourself to look literally anywhere else. The faux waterfall ahead of you, the wireless speaker droning pleasant, melodic mood music, fuck, you even try staring at the dimmed light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. But every cry and whine forces your eyes down, tempts you to catalogue every inch of flushed skin and threaded muscle. You gnaw on your own lip, and find your hands drifting down, back around his abdomen. You’ve worked through the area already, there is no excuse to be down there, to slip your finger tips under the towel, to push your digits into the skin around his pelvis. “Is this okay?” You have the gall to ask, when you push your fingers lower still, and basically sign your own severance package. Oh but it’d be worth it, to get what you want, to make this big strong man sob with pleasure, to have his mouth on your throat while you stroked him to completion. The memory of his cock in your hand will keep you warm in the unemployment line.

König nods, turns his head towards you but doesn’t open his eyes. His hips cant upwards again, and his towel shifts, parting to reveal his angry, desperate hard-on. He raises a hand from the massage table, letting his mammoth paw land on your hip. He squeezes you, and exhales sharply through his nose when his thumb touches your bare skin, skating over your flesh underneath your work shirt. “Say it.” You mutter and his eyes crack open, just wide enough for you to spot the crystalline blue of his irises between his inky black lashes.

“Please.”

And that’s all you need.

He’s uncut, and the veins blanketing the length of his cock are visible under his foreskin. Pretty in a way you aren’t used to, a denser blush than the rest of his body, but still quite pale. It feels like your hand is moving in slow motion towards it, your fingers twitching in anticipation. The heat of his dick warms your skin before you even make contact, and when you do, wrapping your fingers around the root of it, your fingertips can’t touch. You press your lips together and try not to squeal happily, glee crinkling your eyes.

God is real and he’s an uncircumcised cock on a shy giant.

König’s erection is searingly hot. Soft skin and hard core, jerking in your palm, leaking steadily, nudging at your hand, insistent. Your brain is working full steam and connections necessary to utilize common sense are still not being made. Slowly, you tighten your hold on him, the weight of it is so imposing, you wouldn’t be surprised if imprints of the veiny surface were branded onto your hand once you withdrew. If you ever withdrew. You should fucking withdraw.

You do not withdraw. Instead, you slide your hand up slowly, choking up on the head of his cock before dragging your grip back down. You chance a glance up at his face, watching his Adam’s apple bob with each laboured swallow. The poor man’s jaw clenches and relaxes while you slide your palm over his flesh again and again. Somehow, he hardens further and your eyes widen impossibly larger, the pit of your stomach doing somersaults at the idea of where you want that thing to go, what you want it to do. You get fevered flashes of König bending you over the massage table in your mind, hands on your hips, rutting without sense or logic into you, so hard the surface scrapes against the floor, all while he sobs, his overwhelmed, overstimulated tears splashing against your back while he rearranged your insides. The head of his cock is exposed every time you slide your hand down towards his pelvis. By the third peek, you’re dragging the pointed end of your tongue over the tip of his dick, licking against his head, and coating your mouth with the taste of him. He grips at your side harder, his fingers digging into your hip as he chases the warmth of your mouth. He keens loud, almost mewling when you pull off him, using your spit to ease your hand’s path. By this point, your handiwork is audible, noisy and wet, König’s voice filling the small room. You use your free hand to guide his head to your chest, letting him bend toward you, press his nose into your tits while he begs for you to finish him.

“Are you gonna come, Mr. König?” You thread your fingers in his hair, letting your nails scratch against his scalp, drift down to his nape and up to his crown again.

“Yes, please, please. Fuck.” His voice is reedy and thin, and he wraps his arm around your waist, burying his face deeper in your chest. And then his whole body trembles, and his hips roll towards you, and for a fleeting minute you consider edging the poor bastard, sliding your hand completely off his cock and watching it twitch violently, uselessly in the air.

But he begs so sweetly. And his next session was already pre-booked.

The hand you kept on his head leaves his hair, and you rub the head of his cock with your flat open palm, jerking him off with firm, fast strokes. He bites down on the curve of your breast, and you’re grateful he still managed to retain enough brain cells to not break skin.

“Do it then. Come, honey.” You trill, feeling his tears wet your skin through your shirt. It’s almost instantaneous, so fast it’s kind of impressive. His body goes bowstring-tight, and he squeezes you so hard it almost hurts. Ropes of sticky white seed shoot from his cock, covering your hand and his spasming abdomen. You slide your hand up, milking just the first two inches of him through his orgasm, until he stops your movements himself, covering your hand with his own.

When you finally break contact, you stare at your hand for what feels like ages, thick beads of his cum rolling down your palm, sliding to your wrist. You extricate yourself from his hold, using your clean hand to brush his sweat damp hair from his forehead. You press that kiss you wanted to the space between his brows. Why start restraining yourself now? His body shivers periodically, and you turn to the sink, to wash your hands clean, clenching your own thighs together, his moans and sighs echoing in your mind. You turn to face him, grinning wide and cheery,

“So...I’ll see you next week?”

hoe, you are getting fired! at least you got a man outta it though.

support city girls who love gummy worms, reblog what you like.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

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thatshadyperson · 2 years

Text

My room’s been a complete and total mess for over two months because I started deep cleaning it when the WiFi went out one day then for the next week slowly threw/got rid of stuff I didn’t want/need but then gave up after having a breakdown over seeing a picture of my (dead) grandmother’s deceased dog that I loved so dearly

#my room cannot be slept in until it's cleaned #but all the energy i had then has since been depleted #and now i've got a room that looks like a homeless camp #since i started deep cleaning it all the shelves are empty and all the stuff that was previously on them is now sitting on the floor #mostly books and stuffed animals #my spare house key has been missing since then #it's somewhere in the pile of junk i need to go through #the dog in question is the one in my pfp #and i miss him so much #i want to clean but i'm scared i'm just going to stumble upon more pictures of deceased people and animals #i can't sleep in my room because of the cluttered floor #i'm starting school in less than a week so i've been gathering the stuff i need #and have just been ignoring my room

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sonarspace · 2 months

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love sick king, sukuna

wc: 1.6k content: soft sukuna. just sukuna being in love. and slight nsfw. not proofread as usual. a/n: thinking of sukuna and how over in his head he would be when you first start dating cause you mean so much to him and he just wants to get it right.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

your first kiss. lips soft against his. he can taste the cherry chapstick when his tongue lulls out over your lips asking to be let in. a soft groan eliciting from him at the touch of your tongues. but he doesn’t push you further. he pulls back, eyes dilated. “we should stop..” he whispers. his thumb caressing your swollen lips. “okay. goodnight,” you chirp opening the door to your room and slipping in.

he walks back to his room. only thought in his head was your lips. he spends his night thinking about the kiss. wondering if you were too.

he steals glances when you serve him and his men dinner. not that you did this very often, only when you wanted to see him be a love sick puppy. he asks you to bring him the bread plate. “can i get some bread rolls, please?” he asks looking your way. his politeness while speaking to you doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the table. usually he would command not ask. they silently smirk at seeing him behave this way. their king had fallen in love.

his fingers lightly touch yours. electricity coursing through both your bodies. a blush creeps on his face as he grabs the bread roll from your hands. cute. you think to yourself. you could tease him about this later. “sukuna?” a voice brings up out of the trance. lost in your touch. lost in your eyes.

you move back to the kitchen. giddy. he comes after a while. “hey,” his voice gains your attention. you quickly move over to him. your arms move around his neck as his take their rest on your waist. “hi,” you smile.

both of you waiting for the other to make the first move. waiting to be kissed. you both hold eye contact. having a whole conversation without saying anything. you kiss him on the cheek and pull away “gotta clean up my king.” his heart skips a beat whenever you refer to him as your king. he wanted to be yours forever.

no advances are made by the either for you for the rest of the week. keeping your distances from each other. a knock comes at your door in the morning. sukuna stands outside your door. fiddling with his fingers — nervous with anticipation.

you open the door, half asleep. the early morning sun shining through the curtains lightening your frame. dressed in a skimpy white night gown, the robe loosely tied around. “sukuna,” you whisper sleep lacing your voice. “did you need something?” you ask with your head lulled to the side.

“um—” unable to form a coherent sentence at a upon seeing your morning look. your puffy eyes. slumped body. he wants to hold you in his arms. he wishes he could wake up to you every day. how much better his day would be if you were by his side. “sukuna,” you stretch the vowel trying to bring him back to you.

he clears his throat. “yes um, just wanted to ask you something.” can i kiss you? can you call me yours? will you be my girlfriend? marry me? he shakes his head as if the thoughts would clear but they stay lingering in the back of his mind when he asks you “will you go on a date with me?”

“took you long enough but yes i’d love to,” you smile at him. “perfect. i’ll pick you up at 7,” he returns your smile. it tugs at your heart. he should smile more often you think to yourself. a new goal to keep him smiling. “okay sweet cheeks. see you then.” he raises his eyebrows at the nickname. “now.. let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he warns jokingly. “too late,” you wink at him.

as promised sukuna’s outside your door at 7. an array of flowers in a bouquet in his hand. he knocks lightly. “come in!” you yell from inside. “it’s sukuna,” he replies back. in case you were expecting someone else. “i know. come in. i need your help.” he closes the door behind him, “in here,” you call out from the closet. he drops the bouquet on your coffee table and makes his way to you.

“close your eyes,” you yelp when you see him approaching. “but you just told me to come in?” he retorts. “i know but keep your eyes closed.” you walk over to where he’s standing and grab his hands. he hold his breath. “can you help me zip up this dress without looking?” you ask. “sure can,” he smirks. “you’re dirty,” you pout. “aw now no need to pout.” he catches you off guard. he just knew you too well. “i never claimed otherwise. now turn around.”

you put his hands on your shoulders and turn around. he can feel the material under his hands. “go ahead,” you whisper trying to hide how bad his touch was getting to you. he feels for the zip under his fingers. slowly moving over the straps and then to your bare skin. he inhales deeply at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. soft and smooth. just how he imagined it. his hands make their way to the middle of your back. a small metal like piece comes in his grasp and he pulls it up, slowly. trying to savor the moment you let him this close to you.

“thank you. now keep your eyes closed and walk back outside and wait for me.” you order him and he abides. who would’ve the thought the king would be so love sick he would be taking orders. definitely not him. he smiles at the thought. happy to do anything you asked of him. soon after he leaves you follow him out to the hallway.

you’re dressed in a sheer black dress with lace flowers dotting it. hugging your body just the way he wishes to. unable to control himself he lets out a whistle at which you laugh and give him a twirl “do you like?” you ask him. “yes,” he grabs your waist mid twirl and pulls you in. shorter than him even with heels you look up at him with a big smile. he holds back from kissing and instead hands you the colorful bouquet “for you, my lady”.

still in the palace you step outside to his grand garden. he brings you to an area filled with different array of roses. the sun bidding its farewell to the sky and shining a perfect shade of gold made it look like a scene out of the movie. a stone table with stone benches on either side under the white pillars welcomed you.

breathtaking. that’s what you looked like he thinks. if that word was a person, it would be you. his hand grasps yours as you make conversation about everything and nothing. leftover dessert lingers on the side of your lip. his finger comes up to wipe it away. he thinks about pulling you in and kissing you. and you wait for it to come but it doesn’t. you both walk hand in hand. you looking up at the stars and talking about different constellations as he guides you through the garden and back into the house. he loves how excited you sound so he listens to every word you say carefully. he walks you to your room like always. and like last time you expect him to kiss you goodbye but he doesn’t. instead he kisses you on the cheek.

he wanted you to be the one to initiate the kiss. to confirm that you felt the same way he did but when you don’t he leaves you with a quick peck on the cheek.

he sighs when he reaches his bedroom. wondering if what you felt for each other was mutual. he lets his head fall back to the door muffling the sound of your knock. you wait for him patiently. maybe he didn’t want to see you, you thought.

but you’d regret it if you didn’t at least try. so you knock once more and almost instantly he opens the door. still dressed in the same clothes. you move in quickly. your hands grab his face and pull him down for a deep kiss. he moans into the kiss, shutting the door behind you.

his hands move under your thighs and your legs wrap around him like they were made to always keep him in your hold. he falls with you on the bed. he pulls back for a moment, quickly getting rid of anything that would halt either of your movements.

your walls are snug around him as he pushes in. you fit together perfectly. the way a key fits a lock. hard to choose between going fast and feeling good or going slow and savoring the moment, he chooses the latter.

he wishes he could stay in this moment forever. your sweet voice calling out his name in a fervor of pleasure. your eyes threatening to close “keep your eyes on me, doll,” he huffs. soon he brings you both to a state of ecstasy. you let go with a deep moan of his name “sukuna, oh fuck”. and he follows suit. painting your walls white. panting your name. his head falls to your neck. both of you breathing heavily. your fingers tangle into his pink locks as he leaves kisses behind your ear, on your neck, over your collarbone.

“sleep with me tonight,” he tells you and you nod an okay. “too tired to move, anyway.” you say making him chuckle. he cleans you up and pulls you in his arms. “i love you”, he whispers into your hair when he’s sure you’re asleep. he hopes you’re dreaming of him. dreaming of a life with him. just as he does.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

a/n pt. 2: had a half mind to end this over him not hearing you knock and keeping it angsty. but i’m nice :)

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sweetlyskz · 7 months

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Emerald Gem|| Chapter 1

Paring: OT7! x Fem!Reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one to talk to but the cows and pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stumble upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn

unedited*

At dawn, the roosters began to crow. They were your personal alarm clock. By the afternoon, you would have the Vegetables plowed and all the pigs fed. Emerald garden, full of color, would be watered. After all the chores were done, you could spend time on your hobbies. Painting, writing, cooking.

You truly kept yourself busy. But it became boring at times, lonely.

Emerald manor, your beloved home, was built for a family. With a large living room, a generous dining room, and too many bedrooms, it could be overwhelming for you. You liked to think about how you could fill this space, getting married, having a family. But you quickly realized that those things don’t come easy. Tired of the loneliness, you thought about adopting a pet. Maybe a dog to help with the farm?

And one day while you're cleaning the chicken coop you spot a fox about to pounce on one of the chickens.

“Hey!” you exclaim. “Get out of here!”

The fox stopped in its tracks and peered over at you, giving an intimidating glare. Then you realized, that wasn’t a fox.

It’s a person.

“Wait!” you attempted to come closer, but with each step forward, the fox went two steps backward. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

The fox seemed dubious, cautiously stepping towards you. “F-food, please.” His voice was raspy, sore.

You immediately ran to get some food, coming back to the coop with some leftovers. Maybe this will suffice, you thought. You sat him down on the grass patch next to the chicken's den. You watched him devour the meal, as if he hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. Based on his appearance, he probably hadn’t. His fur coat was dirty and torn. You could see his ribs and his belly rumbled with each bite. “Sorry, miss”, he whispered.

You shook your head. “Don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m Y/n. May I ask your name?”

You could tell he was nervous. Something about your presence made him anxious and fearful. Is he like this with everyone?

“H-Hoseok”, the fox uttered. “But I can’t stay long. My pack is waiting for me.” With a slight struggle, he stumbles back on his two feet. You grab him before he takes off.

“Please wait”, you politely asked. “Let me give you some food to take back to them. Don’t leave yet.”

He paused for a moment, seeming to be pondering over his next steps. “Okay”, he spoke softly. “But don’t be long. They may worry.”

With that, you hurry back into your home, running to the fridge to see what you can scrap up. Hopefully I have enough for all of them, you thought. Maybe you can give them a couple of chickens from the coop.

While carrying plastic wrap covered plates to your garden, you hear a scream coming from the coop. That must be Hoseok. Without haste, you ran to the chicken coops, the food left for the birds. Hovering over Hoseok was what looked like a wolf– well half wolf.

“Back away from him!” You yelled at the top of your lungs, trying to scare off the scary hybrid. He ignored you completely. Suddenly, you gain the courage to step up to it, pushing it off of the fox.

“Are you okay?” You helped him back on his feet, feeling the trembles in his hands. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, he would never hurt me”, He stuttered. “You don’t understand.” You looked at him confusingly, then looked at the wolf. He was fuming with anger.

“Y/n, this is my packmate, Joon.”

***

You’re not sure how feeding one hybrid led to having seven hybrids on your couch, but you have no one to blame but yourself.

“You want us to do what?!”

“Live here?” It was really just a random thought that popped in your head. You didn’t give it any thought. And seeing them dirty and hungry on your couch just made you blurt it out. Hoseok seemed thrilled but his Pack alpha, Joon, wasn't too excited.

“You must be out of your mind”, he laughed. “What do you think we are, pets?”

“No, not at all!” You shook your head. Something in the back of your mind tells you that they’ve been burned before, that they’ve been mistreated. You feel sort of sympathetic. Could they not trust anyone? “You guys don’t even have to stay here long. I just want to treat your wounds and offer some food.”

He still seemed doubtful. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you?”

That's the question he's been dying to ask. What about you? You thought about it for a moment. Wouldn’t any human being want to help out someone in need? The answer to that is no. However, maybe they need some good in their lives.

And you could use the company.

“Well, I kind of live here by myself”, You explain. “My parents moved to the city so I don’t see them often, and I don’t have any other family or friends. If I’m being honest, I really just need someone to converse with. And maybe a little help around the house.”

One of the packmates raised his hand, as if asking permission to speak. “We left the other home we were in. They may still be looking for us. We don’t want to put you in any danger.”

“We can figure all that out later”, you promise him. “Right now, you guys just need to wash up and get a proper rest.”

Hoseok turned to Joon, waiting for his response. “Please, Joon. We’ll be good, I promise.”

He glared at you for a second, trying to sense if this was another trap. Maybe she’s genuine, he thought. “Okay, but we won’t stay for long.” You could hear sighs of relief. Even you let out a puff of air, not realizing you were holding your breath.

“Thank you. Thank you so much for trusting me. I know that’s not easy.” You gave them a tour of Emerald farm, showing them their sleeping quarters and where they can wash up. When evening came around, you prepared a feast. Your hybrid guests gobbled down all they could– except Joon. He didn’t eat, probably from fear of being poisoned. Hopefully, one day he’ll trust me, you thought. But for now, all you can do is show them tender care and affection until they believe it.

When it becomes time for everyone to sleep in their rooms, you're left alone in the living room with our thoughts. Maybe some television will clear your mind. You never really use it. Living on a farm left you with plenty of other things to do, but why not? Turning on the television, you flip through the channels until one catches your attention.

Breaking news! Seven dangerous hybrids escaping from a research facility

*Taglist open!

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hannieehaee · 5 months

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18 + / mdi

content: pantysniffer!mingyu, pervert!mingyu, the unexpected return of this mingyu, established relationship, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), face-sitting, etc.

part 1

wc: 1384

a/n: i randomly thought abt a continuation to that one mingyu fic i wrote like a month ago and now here we are

masterlist

you thought he would've been done with this by now. i mean, you were dating; exclusively. you had been dating for about a month, so it was quite strange for mingyu to still have this habit.

when you'd first met your boyfriend, you had only been roommates. he was clean, he kept things tidy, he was respectful of your space, and most important of all, he was really hot.

you hadn't known him very well until first moving into his shared apartment, only having ever heard your best friend vernon mention him in passing. which wad why you were in utter shock upon moving in with vernon and mingyu, now realizing that your best friend had been gatekeeping this muscly hunk from you.

admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but you were an adult and you also appreciated the friendship you had quickly built with mingyu, deciding to not act on anything, or even give off any type of hint of your school-girl crush on him. this platonic dynamic, however, did not last long. but its demise was not your doing.

it all started some random afternoon, in which you had headed over to take a shower at the usual time you tended to. having roommates, it was just easier to have a schedule, so you'd always abide by it. except today's routine was quickly interrupted by the unexpected sighting of your panties in mingyu's hand, pressed against his nose while he breathed in the scent. you had only wanted to ask him for extra conditioner, not bothering to knock on his door (your bad), but absolutely not expecting to find the culprit to all your misplaced panties from the past month.

like any reasonable girl, this interaction ended with you letting mingyu fuck you into next week, but only after being thoroughly eaten out by the man as he lost himself between your legs. in very predictable fashion, this resulted in a relationship arising between the two of you, immediately informing your friend vernon that he would now have to third wheel as the three of you continued to be roommates.

you had thought that was the last of it. the last time mingyu would let his depraved tendencies thief you of yet another pair of panties. i mean, he had the real thing now, so there was no need for a washed out scent of your cunt for him to get off to, right? wrong. you had forgotten your boyfriend was obsessed with you, and by result, the lacy panties he knew you wore day after day.

that's why it shouldn't have been surprising when you walked into his room (which was pretty much yours by now) to find him in the same position you had a month before. you wanted to be scandalized, but much like last time, you were incredibly turned on at the thought of mingyu being so addicted to you he'd seek your panties if he couldn't have you immediately.

he noticed your arrival, not stopping his movements even as you neared him, closing the door behind you.

"baby ... left me all alone. 'm sorry, just needed you so fucking bad ..." his movements on his dick sped up, whining and pouting at you for fulfilling your adult duties and leaving him on his day off to go to work.

"gyu ... baby. wanted me that bad? couldn't wait for me to get back?", you were close enough now to caress his cheek, making him lean into your hand as he moaned at your condescending tone.

"mhm," he nodded, "can i have it? want the real thing, baby. wanna drown in it."

"how can i say no to you, pretty? c'mere, let me-"

"my face! sit on my face, baby, please!", it wasn't too common for him to beg for you, only ever happening when he was overly pussydrunk for you, so you were taken aback for a moment.

surprisingly, you had never sat on his face to date, despite his constant insistence on eating you out almost every day that allowed for it. to be fair, you two worked a lot, and had only been dating for a month. there hadn't been enough time to explore more positions or even explore each other as much as you'd want to.

"gyu? are you sure? what if i-"

"its fine!", he was suddenly not as dizzy from the arousal the scent of your panties had given him, all focus now on the thought of your thighs encompassing him as he licked at you from below their weight, "i can take it, baby, i promise."

it took a bit of enticing from him to convince you, with him beginning to kiss your neck and sneaking his hand under your shorts to run his fingers up and down your already-wet panties. he succeeded too quickly, knowing you had as little power to resist him as he did you.

and so now you were sitting on his face, worries buried deep in your brain as your boyfriend's tongue delved into the farthest depths of your cunt. you couldn't help yourself in holding onto his hair and begin riding his tongue, too blind on pleasure to even think.

what you hadn't realized was that your boyfriend was off even worse than you, constantly moaning against your cunt while his hand remained occupied on his own dick. he had never felt more turned on, falling in love with the weight of your thighs on his face.

"gyu ... feel so- so fucking good, shit! please ..." you had no idea what you were begging for. there was nothing more mingyu could do to make you feel better than he already was. he had managed to render you senseless, with no coherent thought left in you.

"so fucking good .. shit, so tasty, baby. ride me just like that ..." that was what you could make out of his mumbled words muffled by your cunt, but regardless, knowing he felt pleasure from the simple act of sucking on your clit made you even more aroused.

you began to ride him at an animalistic speed once you realized your orgasm was approaching, face now wet from the tears of pleasure he had pulled from you. mingyu was in no better state, humping his own hand at a similarly inhuman pace, cumming halfway through your own orgasm.

you fell limp on the bed, wearily removing your weight from his face and letting yourself become boneless while he somehow managed to get himself up to get some wet wipes to clean up the mess, but not without attacking your mouth with his tongue for a few seconds before actually getting up, moaning at the whine you let out at your taste on his tongue.

"shit. we have to do that again. we have to do that every time from now on. we-"

"okay, slow down," you giggled as he cleaned you up, "i need to recover. you're crazy, gyu, jesus christ."

"what? is it illegal to love pussy?"

"as much as you do? it should be. also, you're still stealing my panties? gyu, i-"

"listen!" he interrupted you again, now having thrown away the dirty wipes and wordlessly positioning the two of you so you could lay against each other under his covers, "it was an emergency, okay? i was so horny, you have no idea. and your panties were right there! it's like crack, baby. i couldn't help myself. are you mad?", he was pouting by the end of his explanation, paying no mind to how ridiculous he sounded.

"of course not, gyu. it's actually kinda, uh, i-"

"oh my god. you still like it?! you like when i sniff your panties and i'm the perv?", he gasped, now facing you as he berated you.

"shut up! i'm not the one going around sniffing people's panties, okay? you're the perv!"

"nuh uh, baby. can't turn this on me. gonna be stealing your panties even more now. i dont care if i can have the real thing, want both. gonna make you sit on my face every day too. cant even pretend you dont love it anymore," he was smug about it, knowing he was completely right.

"fine. you can steal my panties. happy?"

he dared giggle in response, "very."

#seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt fanfic #mingyu x reader #mingyu imagines #mingyu fanfic #mingyu scenario #mingyu smut

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stevie-petey · 2 months

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oh, you didn't know?

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank. “Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 1.6k

Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.

Steve has never had the best timing.

When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died.

There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face.

Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”

“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over.

“Oh my god–”

“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”

Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped.

Well fuck.

“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”

You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”

The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit.

He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not.

Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.

So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side.

Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again.

You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out.

After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open.

Steve’s plan was foolproof.

Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend.

However, Steve really should’ve known better.

His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door.

There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.

“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him.

You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”

“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.

“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”

“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”

There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life.

At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place.

A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in.

Then, late January, your birthday came along.

This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.

You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake.

Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly.

Except that isn’t what happened.

What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in.

“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face.

Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”

You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him.

Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck.

He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something.

He’s miserable.

Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks.

You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts.

The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”

Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”

He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind.

“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear.

“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”

This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him.

“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”

Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”

At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”

“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”

Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”

“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along.

God, he is so stupidly in love with you.

He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist.

The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of.

Then, a thought occurs to Steve.

“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”

“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”

Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.

And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss.

Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time.

⌑ writing masterlist

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x fem #stranger things #m's writing #fluff #valentines day #enjoyyyyyy <3 #mans just wants a gf #bless him

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foldingfittedsheets · 2 months

Text

My mom has this awful friend, Cynthia. My loathing goes deep enough that I’m not even going to change her name. If she ever finds this she knows what she did.

On multiple occasions my mom asked this horrible irresponsible chicken brained woman to watch after our animals while we were away. I don’t know why once wasn’t enough, because the first failure was so spectacular that anyone in their right mind would know she couldn’t be trusted with any level of responsibility or direction following.

You might be thinking to yourself, FFS, this level of antipathy is surely unwarranted! But you’d be wrong.

To set the scene, we were living in downstairs of our house when I was about fifteen. My mom has always wanted more animals than can reasonably be kept indoors which is how we ended up with three cats. When she wanted to kick them all outside I protested, and so all three cats lived in my bedroom with no access to the rest of the house.

That really wasn’t great, so in an attempt to give them options we made a window cutout with a cat door in it to give them access to the outdoors. Looking back on this as an environmentally conscious adult it’s wretched, cats should be indoor only, but at the time I was desperate to give them some freedom because one bedroom is too small for three cats.

So my parents and I went on a week long trip to visit family out of state. We told Cynthia to come feed and water the cats, and to scoop the litter box. Most importantly, don’t lock the handle of the door, because we only have the key to the deadbolt.

I’m sure you can see where this is going.

Cynthia locked us out. We arrived home after 12 hours on the road, desperate for the comfort of our own beds. We were met with an unyielding door. With a sigh I volunteered, “I can punch in the cat door and climb in the window.”

I slipped behind the bamboo outside my window and pushed in the cutout. A horrible insidious reek wafted out at me. I paused, prickling with foreboding. But I had a job to do, and by god I’d see it through. I hefted myself up into the window and my hand immediately landed in something wet.

Skin crawling, I pulled myself up and surveyed the darkened room as a miserable odor of decay and suffering poured out of the room around me. I could see dark shapes littering the carpet and it didn’t take a genius to guess that the cats had taken up hunting in a big way during my absence.

I pulled my hand out of the pile of vomit it had landed in and dropped into my onetime bedroom turned now into a hellpit of decomposing wretchedness. I turned on the light. I wished I had not turned on the light.

My eyes scanned across the floor, tallying as they went. Two dead birds, a dead baby rabbit, five dead mice, and one dead snake. I paused on my alarm clock, perplexed to see a stain of white on it. I stepped closer and saw a furtive movement.

The tally suddenly contained also: one live bird that had shit in several places, probably in pure terror to find itself trapped in a room littered with decomposing woodland creatures, which honestly, fair. I coaxed it out the window and finished the survey with five discrete piles of vomit.

I unlocked the door and let my parents in. They exclaimed in disgust at the horrible smell. We stood together in my doorway floored by the magnitude of neglect. The unscooped litter box was a subtle footnote in the tangible reek my living space. I disposed of the parade of ecological disaster, cleaned vomit, and scooped the box after a brutally long day on the road. The cats were fine, and happy to see me. They had a huge dish or food and water so Cynthia’s neglect at least hadn’t harmed them.

Then I slept on the couch while my bedroom aired out, the windows flung wide to dispel the uneasy ghosts of the hunted. I spent the whole night cursing Cynthia’s name for this evil she’d visited upon me. When my mom asked her, "Cynthia, didn't you see the dead animals?"

Cynthia responded, "Yes, they smelled so bad, I just ran in and out as fast as I could." I fully don't believe she did any caretaking, and I'm personally of the opinion that she locked herself out on the first day and never came back.

The next day my room had returned to a habitable level of smellscape and I gratefully crawled into my bed that night. I stretched out and froze as my foot brushed something cold and wet?

The final indignity: one last dead snake, inside my very sheets.

Fucking Cynthia.

#ramblies #story #ffs foibles #keep your cats inside #but also looking back like why didn't I change my sheets #I did not have good bed hygiene instilled in me from my parents #later that lady would go on to leave a huge metal dish of dog food in the middle of the yard #despite the fact that we told her over and over not to feed the dog because he was on a diet #and I knew not to trust her so my friend was coming twice a day to feed him his portioned out meals #he gained like ten pounds in the week we were gone eating rained on mushy dog food #that fucking woman was a menace

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rsmura · 3 months

Text

ROOMMATES — enhypen

( bookshelf ) genre fluff, crack pairing enha x gn reader word count 0.7k warnings not proofread

a/n none.

HEESEUNG

considering he owns a room to himself in the enha dorm, he would definitely prefer his peace a lot, but sometimes could get clingy and want interactions

you and him are the exact example of night owl and early bird, so expect him to game until potentially 3 in the morning, and hearing his screams when he dies in games

he will most definitely scream your name from across the hall and not stop until you walk right up to his face - when you do get to him, he would just smile and go, “hi.” he probably ends up asking for some attention, or tells you a movie long speech about his day

JONGSEONG

your parents will literally never ever worry about you considering how they let jay treat you as his child - he's so caring to the point people would actually believe you if you said you were jay's child over your own biological family

he'll be cleaning, cooking, everything. not to worry though, as everything he does, he WILLINGLY does it - it's almost as if he feels a sense of responsibility that he needs to take care of you

it’s almost as if he can read your mind; whenever you’re craving something, he’ll coincidentally come back from the store with it. all in all, he’s the best roommate you could ever ask for

rest under cut !

JAEYUN

he’s neither a morning person or sleeps in - but he does love sleep so whenever you wake him up when he’s late, best believe you’ll prepare freezing water with ice inside, and dump it on his head

but sometimes you’ll feel bad seeing his desk light still turned on at 4am, with his keyboard sounds in the background, meaning he was still awake and doing his work

when he hears you behind him, he’ll immediately usher you to sleep, and when you don’t, he’ll tuck you into his own bed, sitting next to you, and bring his laptop to work on on his lap

SUNGHOON

upon first moving in with him, he’ll probably seem a little cold and closed off, but prepare for chaos when he warms up to you

it could literally be a normal day, with you both sitting at the dining table and finishing your work, when sunghoon decides to scream, then returns to type away as if nothing happened

although he doesn’t admit it, every single day he’ll wait for you on the couch until you’re ready to leave, and when you ask him why he’s waiting for you, he’ll continue with his, ‘i wasn’t waiting, my foot was hurting earlier,’ excuse

SEONWOO

he’s the absolute sweetest roommate you could ever ask for - randoms act of kindness every single day; having your favourite food on the table before you come home

whenever you want to rant, gossip, anything like that, sunoo is ready to hear it all - he wouldn’t care if his opinion isn’t what you want to hear, he’ll always give you his honest answer - of course that is, if you guys get to eat ice cream after

he doesn't need reminders for any special occasions, whether it be your birthday, christmas, passing your exams - he's always ready with a gift and a congrats

JUNGWON

since he’s the leader of enhypen, he feels the responsibility to take care of you as well, no matter if you’re older or younger

unfortunately he can’t cook like jay, but he’ll definitely do it just for you, even if it means the entire kitchen will be flipped upside down; when you confront him about this, he’ll ignore you, saying he’s a pro at cooking

when seeing you dead tired or drained, he’ll knock on your door, opening it cautiously, then will proceed to ask you if you want to have movie night and chill with him

RIKI

if you don't want to feel like a parent just yet, do NOT let him live in the same house as you - you'd be the one picking up after all his undone chores

you specifically made a rule with riki that on days you weren't home during dinnertime, he would wait for you to come back, in case he ever tries something and ends up burning the entire apartment down

there was this one week where you weren't going to be at home which meant he would have to do all the cooking; when you come back, riki would tell you all the amazing food he's cooked the past few days, only for your neighbour to betray him and ask, "oh riki! you're not ordering food anymore?"

taglist open @euncsace @ibsysbsfsunsbs @misouer networks @k-films @kflixnet @/k-labels

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repulsiveliquidation · 5 months

Text

Crippled.

María León x Ingrid Engen x Reader [SMUT!]

the cutest duo am i right

word count : 2.6k

warnings : fluffy smut, bon appetit.

“Ready, mi amor?”

“Si, just let me get my bag.”

Mapi stood at the door with her kitbag, grabbing her keys when you walked up to her with your medical bag. You had just been announced as the head of the medical team for Barcelona Femeni and it was your first day. Your girlfriends recommended you to the board when you were helping Alexia with her ACL; the board decided to use your expertise on the team upon her recommendation and you got the job, moving on from your private practice.

You were a little nervous about the position; the team was made up of elite athletes that relied on you to keep them healthy and injury-free to be able to do their jobs the best they can. You had met them all, but since you’ve never cared for them except for Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid so you were scared that you would mess up and cost the team.

“I’m ready.” You tell her, smiling up at your girlfriend.

“The barça crest looks good on you.” She tells you proudly, holding the door open for you as you walked to her car.

“Please, you’ve seen it on me hundreds of times.”

“It’s one thing to see you in my jersey or Ingrid’s amor, never fails to make my heart go crazy.”

“I love you,” you tell her, blushing lightly when she opens your door for you; Ingrid already sitting inside.

“I love you too,” She whispers quietly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

You walk to training together, they follow you into the medical room to introduce you to everyone and to get you settled. Ingrid kisses your head and Mapi kisses you before leaving, heading to training while you work up a health plan for each and every one of the players.

You come out to the pitch a while later to introduce yourself to the team which isn’t necessary since the girls are over at your house at least once a week anyway and you knew all of them well. They come over to say hello at a water break, Alexia gives you a hug when Mapi comes up from behind and hugs you as you talk to Irene, Patri and Ingrid.

“Go back to practice, clingy.”

“I wanna hang out with you.”

“We live in the same house, you will live without me for a bit. Go.”

“Asshole.”

“That is so sweet of you, love.”

She lets go and kisses your cheek before running back on the pitch with Ingrid following her. You speak with Jonatan for a bit to discuss how he wished to have the medical team at games and such. You go back inside after, waving to the girls.

Ingrid and Mapi find you in your office after training, freshly showered and ready to go home. You make them sit and wait a bit, finalizing a little work before shaking Mapi awake to go home. You drive, the two girls too tired as they both fall asleep on the way.

Mapi crashes on the couch snoring while Ingrid forces herself upstairs, you chuckle and clean out their kit bags and do a load of laundry before starting on dinner. Mapi wakes up when she smells the steak you’re cooking, trudging to the kitchen grumpily.

“Hello sleepy head.”

“Hola,” she grunts back, sitting on the counter and rubbing her eyes.

You hand her a bottle of water and force her to have half, knowing she was probably thirsty but too stubborn to drink water. She jumps off the counter and throws the finished bottle in the trash before standing behind you and hugging you like she did earlier. She kisses your neck softly, arms snaked under her hoodie you had on.

“Dinner will be ready in 5, baby.”

“I’ll set the table. You’re the best, you know that?”

“I know.”

She laughs and lets go, setting the table before calling for Ingrid. You walk in with three plates, putting theirs in front of them before sitting down with your own. Ingrid digs in, sighing when she takes a bite. You smile and watch her eating as you join her while Mapi scarfs down her food at lightning speed.

“You hungry?” you ask her teasingly, grinning when she looks up with a mouth full of food.

“You’re in the wrong profession bebé.”

“These hands save lives and feed them. I love both babe; it makes me happy to see you both and the girls enjoy my cooking. Besides, it helps me destress from work.”

“Y/N!”

You heard your name being called during a game against Real Madrid. You look up and grab your medical bag and rush onto the field without knowing which player you’re treating. When you get there, your heart nearly stops. It’s María, face wincing in pain.

“María? Talk to me love, what hurts?”

“What doesn’t?”

“Quit being a smartass, tell me what hurts!”

“Ankle, I think her studs caught it.”

You move lower and grasp her leg, examining her ankle. You twist it to see the reaction and she yells out. Ingrid is kneeling by her head and stroking her hair, whispering softly to her to calm her down. You carefully pull her boot off followed by her sock, her ankle already starting to bruise.

“She’s out, she can’t play like this.”

“I can, just need a minute.”

“You will not, I’m pulling you off.”

The tone you used got her to stop arguing, you motioned for the stretcher to haul her off the pitch. Ona was already warmed up and ready to go, taking her spot in the game while you tended to Maria.

She sat in the examination room quietly as you iced her ankle and taped her up. She winced and whined which you promptly ignored, knowing she would complain about it after. You helped her back to the benches to watch the rest of the game, keeping her leg elevated and thoroughly iced.

“Are you okay, elskling?” asked Ingrid after the game, helping María into the car after she showered and changed, both of them positively excited by the win.

“Yes but no one has kissed it better yet.” She replies with a pout, you roll your eyes at her as you put their bags in the back with yours.

“Our Y/N didn’t kiss it better? What kind of doctor are you?” Ingrid accused you, Mapi nodding deftly with her. You chuckle and look at both of them in disbelief, hopping into the driver’s seat. Mapi was in the back with her leg across the backseat, Ingrid climbing into the passenger seat grinning.

“I did my job, I will not coddle you María.”

“I am your girlfriend, the contract says you must coddle me.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“No.”

“Any discomfort?”

“Not really.”

“Can you put pressure on your leg despite it being black and blue?”

“Yes, it’s perfectly wrapped.”

“Then I did my job.”

She huffs, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Fine, I will kiss it better when we get home.”

“You big softy.”

“Your leg is about to be even worse, María.”

“Y/N!”

“Yes?”

“Can you help me?”

You walk into the living room to find Mapi reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table. Ingrid is sitting there with a book, apparently ignoring Mapi.

“I can’t reach the remote.”

“Why did you call me when she’s literally sitting right there? I’ve got food on the stove!”

“She’s ignoring me.”

“And why is that, love?”

“I threw her book across the room when she didn’t want to cuddle me.”

“Sounds like you deserve it then.”

“I am injured! You’re both supposed to pity me! Baby me!”

“You don’t throw your girlfriends book across the room when she tries to read!”

“And you don’t call her a hundred and one times just to get you the remote!”

María leaned forward and managed to grab the remote, grinning up at you proudly.

“Got it! Sorry babe, don’t need you after all!”

“Call me one more time María León and I will make sure you never walk again.”

She cowers, turning on the tv and watching it till dinner time. You bring dinner to the both of them and enjoy a little tv along with it. Ingrid cleans up and comes back to cuddle you, pulling you into her arms as her hands thread through her hair. You scoot Mapi up between your legs gently, braiding her hair into small locks. Suddenly she speaks up, looking at the both of you propped up on her elbow.

“I’m sorry I annoyed the both of you today. I just wanted your attention but I guess I just didn’t know how to say it without sounding pathetic.”

Both you and Ingrid sit up and look at each other in shock. Mapi sat herself up too, Ingrid and you moving around to kneel before her. She looks at her hands, picking at a hangnail.

“Darling, you never have to do that to get our attention. You just have to ask us, we’ll both drop everything for you.”

“You’ll never sound pathetic for asking us to love on you mi amor, that’s what we’re here for! You deserve it, you never have to hide it bebé.”

She smiles, biting her lip. You lean in and kiss her, gently caressing her leg. Ingrid moves behind her, kissing down her neck and rubbing her arms. Mapi moans into the kiss, hands flailing between you and Ingrid, unsure of what to do.

You lean over and kiss Ingrid over Mapi’s shoulder as she watches, eyes wide. Nothing turns her on more than seeing both her girlfriends making out. Ingrid takes the lead in the kiss, cradling your head how she wants, obviously licking into your mouth as your tongues taste each other. Mapi outwardly moans, which makes the both of you pull away slowly.

“Wanna join us upstairs, cariño?”

“Upstair–I am a CRIPPLE!”

“Just joking, hold on.”

You pick her up easily, leading the way up to your bedroom. Mapi leans into your neck and kisses you, biting down softly. You gently set her on the bed, stripping her of her clothes. Ingrid suddenly pulls you into her, kissing you hotly as she makes Mapi watch. She makes a show of groping and caressing you, your hands tangled in her messy hair. She moans when you tug, pulling away to attach your mouth to her unmarked neck. She keens, holding onto you as you bite and suck. Mapi is touching herself, hand dipped between her legs as she noisily gets wetter and wetter.

“Enjoying the show?” Ingrid asks her, hands beginning to pull off your clothes sensually. Mapi watched with dark eyes, slipping a finger into herself as you swayed your hips and kissed lower down Ingrid’s body. You did the same to her, pulling off her clothing and tossing them about the room. Mapi moaned loudly when you kneeled before Ingrid and kissed between her legs. You pulled her underwear down and leaned in, kissing her barely peeking clit. You spread her a little and feasted, licking and sucking on her as she pulled your hair and keened. Mapi had two long fingers inside her now, the wet sounds coming from both sides of the room as you aided each other in getting off. Ingrid pushes you to kneel before the bed, leaning back for her to ride your face. You let her get comfortable before she pulls your hair back and grinds herself down on your face. Your nose devotes itself to grazing her clit as your tongue sticks out for her to sink herself on. She groans and looks up to see Mapi panting and fingering herself, eyes focused on the scene in front of her.

Ingrid pulls away just before she cums, leaning in to give you a searing kiss. She groans and pulls your face into hers when she tastes herself so potently on your tongue. Mapi screams incoherent Spanish, cumming hard from the erotic live show she’s got to give herself mind-numbing pleasure.

The two of you grin and climb onto the bed to kiss her, lips locked in a hot three-way lip-smacking fight for dominance. Mapi comes out of top, pulling the both of you off her to make out for her to watch briefly. She smirks at you and kisses both of you separately, giving it to both of you how you like it.

“Grab my strap for me, darling.” Mapi tells you, you hop off the bed and do what she asks while Ingrid checks on her leg. It’s been a couple days and she’s really resting just as precaution, but the two of you worry about her anyway.

Ingrid helps her put it on, while you sit at the foot of the bed and watch. Mapi strokes it briefly before looking at you, gesturing you to come to her. You crawl to her slowly, swaying your hips just to tease. She smirks and waits patiently, pulling you to straddle her hips. The strap pokes your inner thigh when you sit on her, Ingrid leaning in to kiss you softly as Mapi caresses your thighs.

“Want you to ride me, niña.”

You whine and sit up, arousal becoming more evident when her hand slips between your legs and pulls away soaked. No one had touched you at this point, your pent-up arousal pooling generously in your cunt.

“No need for lube, wanna see you sit on my cock angel, come on.”

You listen, holding her cock steady for you to sink down onto it. You whine and shudder as it fills you, the stretch pleasant and painful at the same time. It was soul-snatchingly addicting. You bounced a little, testing the waters. Ingrid kissed you and slowly rubbed your clit, Mapi’s hands caressed your thighs and hips, softly encouraging you as you took more and more of her cock.

Finally, fully speared on her, you slowly rode her cock; moaning loudly when she gave your ass a couple hard smacks. Ingrid moved to ride her face, facing you to lean in and make out. It was pleasurable for all of you, your hands held Ingrid’s as she cupped your cheeks and kissed you harder. Mapi was devouring her pussy, noisy slurps filled the room as it blended with the slick sounds between your legs. You cried out her name when her cock grazed your spot, angling your hips to hit it each time you sank down on her. It made your head spin; her cock filled you deep and full.

Ingrid was also panting now, your hands groping at her breasts as she resumed circling her fingers over your swollen clit. Everyone was close, orgasms right there ready for us to grasp. You were riding Mapi harder now, bouncing on her thick cock, desperately pleading to cum. Ingrid was the same, grinding down on her face while reached back to pull on her hair.

You grabbed Ingrid’s face when you came, kissing her fervently as she came right after you. Mapi too reached her peak for the second time that night, chin wet with a fucked-out smile on her face.

“All healed now, Maps?” Ona asked her as you all got on the plane to travel to Frankfurt.

“Yes, I am fit as a fiddle. Did you know that sex is the best medicine?”

“I will injure you again, María. I may heal people for a living, but remember; I know how to undo the healing and that is a promise.” You told her, the whole plane laughing when the defender cowered into her seat and tried to hide behind Lucy as you and Ingrid gave her the death stare.

#mapi león #ingrid engen #mapi león x ingrid engen #mapi león x reader #ingrid engen x reader #woso smut #woso #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #fc barca femeni #fcb femeni #fc barcelona femeni #fluffy smut

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indecenthoney · 2 months

Text

"The Munchies"

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

Have you ever had that one friend who acts like a completely different person after consuming alcohol? I sort of do. She's a tad bit on the shy side. Up until you present her with some candy. Her eyes would literally glow up at the sight. Not to mention, she becomes the clingiest, most loveable thing. I may be to blame for encouraging such behaviors, but how could I not? I could never ever get another reaction out of her if I wanted to. Completely deadpan, with a cold demeanor. It's enough to break a man's heart. Which brings me to my current situation. I may have a little crush on her. Or well a relatively big one. I've been meaning to ask her out in a good mood, but as I mentioned I could never really get that reaction. I wanted to find some way to help her relax a bit without needing the candies. I don't know. I wanted her to like me for me, you know?

"Hey... How long are you going to be working on that? It wouldn't kill you to take a break, you know? Uhuh... Dude! Let's hang out... This project isn't due till what... Two weeks from now... We can totally take our time... We're already halfway through... So let's go play something! Me? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm hugging you... I'm not going to stop hugging you until you follow me to play video games... I know you hate it... That's why I'm hugging you, silly... Either way, it's a win-win for me... Aw... and here I thought I'd get to hug you for an hour or two? Good choice... C'mon, I'll show you to my room..."

On my way to my room, I found her eye-ing out my kitchen. It was pretty obvious what her intentions were. I wasn't really sure either what snacks I had lying around in there, but I sent her off to my room to choose a game while I scrounged around for something for her to eat.

"Do you want something sweet? I thought so... I'll see what I can do... Uhuh... Just head down the hall, to the right... Make yourself comfortable!"

It was inevitable. Then again, I guess I'd rather give her what she wanted rather than see her disappointed. You should have seen me. I was a man on a mission trying to find those snacks. Eventually, I realized that there wasn't any lying around and I had to bear seeing her sad. Is it a reaction? Yes. Is it a good one? No. I took my time cleaning up and figuring out what to tell her. On my way down, I found myself stopping at the door after hearing some "noises". At first, I assumed it was something coming from the television. With my curiosity piqued, I barged in without a second thought. Unfortunately, this put me in a compromising situation. Okay, I know it's my house. But I should know better than to walk in without a warning. My friend was there. Of course, she was. Where else would she be? You know, I just didn't expect her to be on my pillow. Rubbing herself against it. I stood in shock as she mindlessly grinded herself not paying any mind to me. it was like she was in a sort of trance.

"Hey! W-woah... Uhm... What the fuck are you doing? Hahaha... uhm... F-fuck..."

I wasn't entirely sure what to do especially since there wasn't anything to play off on. She was grinding away. No response. But upon closer inspection, there were wrappers scattered on the floor and bed. The shy little thing got herself high from consuming the edibles placed on the tableside near my bed. I quickly rushed over to stop her. Placing my hands around her hips to keep her down. Only whimpers and tears were replaced with the sudden stop.

"H-hey... Shhh... Shhhh it's okay... I'm sorry... Ugh fuck... What am I supposed to do with you? Uhm... Let's see... H-hey! C'mon... It's okay... Why are you still crying? You can rub... It's okay... Stop crying, okay? I'm sorry for stopping you... "

After consuming this many brownies, I doubt she'd be able to speak. I'm surprised she was still even functioning at this point. I didn't expect her to have such a drastic personality change after a few brownies. She wouldn't stop crying. I soon realized her trying to move her hips faster. I guess the stimulation wasn't enough to satisfy her. Luckily, I had an idea. Not to fulfill my own selfish desires, but to help a friend out. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Leave her a whimpering sobby mess?

"I-it's okay... Just for a moment... Sit here... I know... I know it hurts... But we'll get it settled in a bit... You just have to be a good girl and listen, okay? That's it... Such a good girl... Does it feel good when I rub you there? Hm? I know it's hard to talk... Just nod your head... Yeah? Ah no... No moving your hips... If you wanna feel good then you'll have to listen, don't you? That's it... Nice and easy... Keep those legs spread for me, hun... Such a pretty lady... So needy... So wet... I'm only rubbing your clit and you're just leaking... Why don't we take these off, huh? We wouldn't want to ruin your panties more than we already have... Shhh... It's okay I'm just taking these off and we'll continue... I'll give a little more than just rubbing... I promise... Oh fuck... A literal bitch in heat... Gonna slide a finger in, okay? Oh? Well, don't you fit perfectly around my fingers... So tight... Mm... What pretty little noises you have... There's no need to be shy... It's okay to feel good..."

Slowly digging away into her deepest parts causing her to spasm. Choking on her moans as the pleasure increases. Her hands clasped around my forearm. A sign informing me that she's close to the edge. Slowing down my pace even more to keep from finishing too quickly. Soft slow strokes. My middle finger moving in and along her slit. A flick at her clit once at the top. Sending a shockwave of spasms throughout her body. I knew it was about time to give her a break. Running my fingers along her body; lifting her shirt. My hands finding their way up her bra. Running circles around her perky breasts. Pinching. Poking. Tugging.

"Hm? You're going to have to use your words... I'm not going to be able to understand you if all you do is moan and whimper... Please? You wanna cum? What's the magic word? Fine... In a bit... I'm still having my fun... Oh? Sensitive there, are we? Be good and I'll give you your reward... Pretty little thing... Does it feel good? Uhuh yeah? Sound so fucking stupid when I touch you here... Are you going to cum just from your nipples being played with? No cuz that would be pathetic, wouldn't it? Almost there, hun... Keep it up... You're doing such a good job for me..."

Hands appreciating every nook and cranny of her body. Tempting her but never really touching the place that needs it the most. Lips pressed. Tongues rolled. A dance of oral pleasure. The taste of brownies lingered on my tongue. How many wrappers were there? I wouldn't be surprised if I got high from tasting her lips. If it were my choice, I would spend an eternity in this bliss. However, she quickly made her needs known. Whimpers and tears once flood the room. Her inability to stay still grew restless as I toyed with her body. One final kiss and I was on my knees. Pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. The softness of her thighs welcomed my cheeks with each kiss. I start to salivate; eager to run my tongue along the drippy mess I've made. In my own trance, I started eating away at her. A different type of hunger had filled me. Something that couldn't be satiated so easily. I wanted her to quake my touch. Moan at the very thought of me. Get wet at every little word I mutter as I adore her perfection.

"Mmph... Fuck... you taste so good, hun... Mmm... I know... I know... I shouldn't talk with my mouth full... I can't help it... You're just too damn pretty right now..."

Her grip tightens; pulling my head into her. Her morality leaking between her legs as I lapped my tongue into her depths. A wave after wave of orgasms causes her to shake. Even with my tongue gently finding its way around her clit, it brings her to the edge over and over. I found pleasure in serving her. With cock in hand, I stroked myself to completion. Even then it was barely enough to fill that hunger. Grabbing her wrists I stood above her; pinning down her arms before placing my cock against the opening of her pussy. Feeling her squirm on the tip. Watching her eyes roll back as the length of cock disappears into her.

"Hey hey... Shush... You're doing such a great job... Mhm... I know you came... I'm sorry, sweetie... Just a little longer, you can take it... All you have to do is stay still and be pretty, okay? Can you do that for me, hun? Mhm... Good girl... Not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, huh? That's it... Cum as you please... I'm not stopping you..."

Hands pinned above her head as I rut into her in the most animalistic, primal way. Enjoying every bit of her reactions as I pump my cum back into her. Even as she drifts off to sleep, I found myself using her and using her. Satiating my hunger. I was unsure of how things would play out tomorrow, so I wanted to enjoy myself while it lasted. Making my mark. Filling her to the brim. I wore myself out. But even then, I wanted to use her. Finger the very holes I came in. Fucking her with my fingers to keep the cum from leaking. Never wanting this happiness to end.

"Oh! You're awake... What happened? Well... You kinda nodded off while I was looking for snacks... You okay? A dream? You were moving a lot during it... but I didn't wanna wake you from your nap... Sore? Hm... You're probably just hungry... Here... I found some brownies... It's really good... You should try some!"

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

Take a bite,

Honey

#cnc k!nk #cnc free use #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #intox cnc #intox kink #fr33use #free use cnc #humiliation kink #edging and denial #rap3 fantasy #somno fantasy #bd/sm blog #bd/sm community #cnc drugging #RisquéHoney

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miniwheat77 · 1 year

Text

Persistent. (Ghost x Reader.)

!CW!, NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, rough sex, ghost being very rough with reader, (lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary); Reader and Ghost are in a secret relationship and when Keegan joins task force 141, he takes a liking to Ghosts secret lover.

I wanted to do the bar fight like requested but I would feel too bad for my bby Keegan. :(

You can find the asks for this or similar here here here here

Ghost lifts his mask up to the bridge of his nose, smile playing at his lips. The room is pitch black, and he’s got you pinned up against an old desk. “Simon- you’re going to get us caught.” You giggle. He leans in, lips sliding over the skin on your neck. “We’re fine. Just as long as you stay quiet f’me, right?” He smirks, grasping your thighs and lifting you up onto the desk. “Ugh.. I’ll try my best.” You roll your eyes as he moves himself between your legs.

Meet in my office. 10 minutes.

Both of your radios go off at the same time, pulling a groan from the both of you. “This isn’t over.” He smirks. He pulls his mask down, helping you down from the desk. The both of you creep over to the door, when the coast is clear, you walk out into the hallway, trying your best to make yourselves look like you weren’t up to no good just minutes ago. “What’s going on Captain?” You ask as you step into his office, Ghost following close behind. “We’re welcoming a couple new recruits to the task force tomorrow morning. I want everyone out there to make them feel welcome. Am I clear?” He says. Everyone nods their heads. “Alright.”

Everyone agrees and he sends everyone on their ways. It’s just about time to turn in for the night, and you rush to your room to prepare yourself for your nightly visit from Ghost. The excitement floods through you, as it always does as you wait patiently for your secret lover to emerge. This would never get old. The both of you had been dating in secret for a while now. You knew how much trouble you could get into if anyone found out you were dating while on base and neither of you wanted that. You decided it’d be best if you kept it a secret. You finished cleaning up for the night and climbed into your bed, turning over just in time to hear the click of your door. A smile growing on your face.

The next morning, you and Ghost are equally as exhausted. The nightly visits that sometimes lasted hours kept you both awake. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea, but you were both too distracted with each other to care. The chopper was landing right now, and you and Ghost are making small talk. When Ghost sees the familiar man walk down the ramp, he smiles behind his mask. He greets everyone and when he makes eye contact with Ghost, he makes his way over. “Ghost, long time no see.” He reaches a hand out. Ghost takes it. “Same to you, Keegan. Been a long time.” He laughs. “Yeah. And who’s this?” Keegan smiles. Reaching a hand out. “I’m Y/N.” You take his hand, shaking it. “Real pretty name, for a real pretty girl.” He winks. You can see Ghost stiffen up immediately, nervousness flooding through your veins.

This was going to be a long few weeks.

Ghost had had enough. Not only was he keeping a massive secret that was hard to hide, because god only knows how bad he wants to hold your hand and kiss you in public, but now it was like he was in a competition. Keegan spotted the way you both acted around each other and asked Ghost right to his face if there was something going on. Ghost seethed behind his mask, having to lie and say, no. That you weren’t dating. And seeing the outline of a smug grin on Keegan’s face upon hearing you were single. It pissed Ghost off to his core. He wanted to be mad, he wanted to throw Keegan up against a wall and tell him off. Tell him how you were his and his only, but that would ruin the secret. So he had no choice.

Every time Keegan greeted you in that flirty, sick voice. Ghost felt searing hot lava pumping through his veins. Getting up and walking away. Sometimes Keegan would spot you comforting Ghost, which led to him asking more questions, which lead to more denial from both you and Ghost, which lead to even more jealous flooding Ghosts brain.

Ghost was staring at himself in the mirror. The amount of jealousy he’d been feeling lately was too much to bare. He was just about to reach his breaking point. Ghost finishes up cleaning and walks out of his room. Taking a deep breath. He needed to make his way to the mess hall. Needed to see you. He’s watching his feet, not paying too much attention to anything going on around him, but he happens to look up. He clenches his fists through his gloved hands, teeth gritted so hard he’s surprised none of them have broken yet. Keegan is leaning up against the door frame, pinning you between himself and the frame. “You’re real pretty you know?”

“Keegan I-“ you go to talk but he laughs. “I know.. you’re worried about getting into trouble right? There’s no secret I can’t keep.”

Ghost clears his throat and this makes Keegan pull back immediately. “He bothering you?” He asks you. “Uh.. no.” You laugh awkwardly. Keegan was nice. Very sweet and flirty and you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He really did think you were single. He had no clue what went on behind closed doors. “Dinner starts in 5, excuse me.” Ghost fakes the nice voice to push passed Keegan, you following behind him awkwardly. You sat at the same table as Ghost and to Ghosts complete dismay, Keegan sat down next to you. “So, heard Soap and everyone planned on going to the pub tonight, you guys going?” Keegan asks. “Yeah, I’ll be there. Ghost?” You look at him, pleading eyes. “Yeah of course.” His voice is gruff and if looks could kill, Keegan would be a pile of flesh. Ghost felt a little like an asshole, he knows it’s not Keegan’s fault but he still feels an overwhelming sense of jealousy. A sigh leaves your lips when Keegan stands up to go find something to drink. “Maybe we should just tell him?” You look at Ghost, “that’ll get us into trouble Y/N. We can’t.”

“Yeah well. That’s easy for you to say when you aren’t the one he’s trying to put his charm on. If this goes on for too much longer, I’m worried it might start working.” Your attempt to taunt Ghost works. It gets right under his skin and settles there. “Ha. Ha. So funny.” Ghost rolls his eyes. Earning a laugh from you. “I’m kidding. You’re my one and only big boy.” You pat his shoulder as you walk away. Going to clean up for the night.

Everyone is sitting inside the pub, having a good time. You’re sitting at the bar, the others are playing pool, darts, or flirting with some of the foreign women. Ghost is playing pool when he sees Keegan finish his game of darts, walking over and sitting down next to you. Ghost is so pissed off, it makes him lose his game of pool against Soap. Soap notices how rigid Ghost goes, eyes staring at the bar. Soap glances over, spotting Keegan talking you up. “Gotta piss.” Ghost lays the pool cue down and walks off. Soap waits a minute before following. Ghost is washing his hands when he walks in. “What’s going on?” Soap asks. “What do you mean?” Soap scoffs. “I mean the death stares you keep giving Keegan every time he talks to Y/N.” He laughs. “You think I’m blind, Riley?” Soap crosses his arms. “There’s nothing going on.” Ghost rolls his eyes. “Ghost, give it up. You either like Y/N or there’s something going on between the two of you. Either way, there’s another guy out there putting the moves on your girl and your fear of getting into trouble is just letting it happen.” Soap hisses, fake pain moving across his face. “Whatever, mind your own business, Johnny.” He pushes passed him, making his way back to the bar. Stopping a few feet away when he hears you giggle. “Ouch.” He hears Soap behind him.

“Y/N. You about ready to go?” Ghost asks. “Oh uh.. yeah sure.” You smile. “Woah, why don’t you stay a while? I can walk you back to base.” Keegan places a hand on your thigh. Ghost is quick to intervene this time. He takes your hand, helping you up. “Sorry mate, she usually walks back with me.” Keegan stands up. “Why do you keep trying to wiggle yourself between us whenever I make a move on her ah? You jealous or something?” Ghost rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, what is this? High school?” You’re blushing, nervousness flooding through you. Keegan is strong and can hold his own, but Ghost is Ghost.

“I mean seriously? What the hell?” Keegan rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine. Since you’re so curious, me and Y/N have been dating in secret for about.. 8 months now? I was keeping it a secret so that I didn’t get her into trouble but thanks to you, that’s out the window.” Keegan’s eyes widen. “Oh god.. I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Ghost sighs, and you look down. “It’s okay Keegan, you didn’t know.” You blush. “Let’s go Y/N.” Ghost tugs on your arm. You follow behind him. “Jesus Ghost, couldn’t hold it together for a minute longer?” You groan. He rolls his eyes. “He fucking touched your thigh Y/N, that’s a no from me.” He seethes. The walk back to the base is short and Ghost marches right into his room, you following behind him. “You can’t be mad at him, he had no idea!” You throw your hands up. “I can be mad at whoever I fucking want to.” He crosses his arms. “Uh.. no? You can’t? You kind’ve need a reason.” You say sarcastically, the smug look on your face drives Ghost crazy.

“You’re acting like a brat.” He growls. “No I’m not! I’m being serious Ghost.” He closes the gap between the both of you, pushing you harshly back onto his bed. A dark chuckle leaves his lips. “First you tease me and say his charm is working and to get him away from you, than you get mad at me for doing what you wanted me to do.” He breathes. Climbing over you and straddling your hips. Pinning your arms above your head. “Why don’t you make up your fucking mind hm?” He growls. Lowering his face into yours. He hears you swallow hard. He locked the door behind him, so he’s not worried about being caught. Your silence makes him laugh. “Had so much to say earlier hm? Nothing now?” He growls. He lifts himself off of you, forcing you to roll over onto your stomach. Wasting no time to practically tear your clothes off of you. “You’re mine.” He growls right at your ear. The deep grumble in his chest has heat pooling between your legs. “Maybe you forgot that. Maybe I need to show you who you belong to.”

Him thrusting right into you has a gasp leaving your lips, clutching hard at the blanket on his bed. He wastes not one second before pounding his hips into yours, wrapping a hand in your hair and pushing your face into the bed as he fucks you from behind. You can’t keep back the moans falling from your lips, and at this point, Ghost doesn’t care who hears. He repositions himself, tugging your hair until you’re up on all fours. The sounds of his skin slapping against yours is lewd, followed by the moans leaving your lips. It sounds like something straight out of a porno. Your skin is already beat red, scalp numb from him tugging at your hair. You’re sure you’ll have his handprints imprinted into the skin on your ass as he spanks you harshly. Thankful for him rubbing and soothing the skin after each hit. He hammers his hips into yours, balls slapping against your clit with each hard thrust he takes. He talks more than he usually would, which is different for you. He’s growling out, taking a tight grasp on your hips. He’s trying to keep himself together but the way you’re wrapping around him is almost too much. He grasps your hair, pulling you up until your back is flush with his chest and he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight to him. The new angle has you whimpering out. “Who do you belong to sweetheart?”

“You- You Simon!” You moan out. A slap on your ass has you crying out. “Who’s?”

“Y- yours!”

“What?”

“Ghost!” The nickname falling from your lips in a cry is everything he needs to keep pounding you. You’re his, only his. He pinches your nipples between his fingers, earning a mewl from your lips at the stimulation. “Such a good girl, knowing who you belong to. I reward good girls.” He growls, lowering his other hand to rub circles against your clit. They’re quick circles and he has your high building up too quickly. “Oh fuck- Simon-“ you cry, trying to grasp his hand in an attempt to make him slow his circles. “Want this tight pussy to cum on my cock.” He growls into your ear. “Nobody will fuck you like I can, you know it. I know it. And there’s one more way I can show everyone that hm?” He chuckles a dark chuckle. “What- what do you mean?” You whimper. “Gonna fill this pussy.” His laugh is dark. You know he’s not kidding. “Simon- you have to pull out.” You whimper. “No. You’re mine. It’s time I make it official.” He groans. He slides out of you, helping you move until you’re on your back. He moves himself between your legs. “Rub your clit, and don’t stop until you cum.” You nod your head, a gasp leaving your lips when he enters you again. The thought of him filling you up is exciting. Something that was so forbidden until now. You almost want to thank Keegan for this.

His thrusts are sloppy and hard, the squelch coming from your sex is filthy, and it eggs him on. “Simon- I’m so close.” You cry out, his cock is sliding perfectly up into your spongy spot. You can’t take it anymore. The knot that’s built up in your belly comes undone and Simons eyes widen when you clamp down around him. Grunts leaving his lips as your pussy milks his cock of everything he has to give. He thrusts a couple times to work you through your highs but the sensitivity has him stalling. He collapses on top of you, cock still inside of you as he pants, trying to come down from his high. “Bloody hell you feel good.” He groans. Your cheeks are bright red, and Simon can feel the way you’re throbbing around his cock. Overstimulated and overwhelmed. “You’re mine. Don’t ever forget that.” He growls, kissing you hard, cupping your cheeks so that you can’t move away from him. “I’m yours Simon. All yours.” You laugh when he finally pulls away. He slides himself out of you with a groan and a gasp leaves your lips when you feel his cum seeping back out of you. His eyes are wide as he watches it. He knows this will be the first of many times he gets to see that.

“We’re going to have so much explaining to do tomorrow.” You giggle.

“Oh yeah we are.”

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #keegan x reader #keegan p russ #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley

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thegnomelord · 5 months

Note

Congrats on the 500! I'd like to see prompt 14 with Ghost and Soap but it's the reader dealing out the punishment.

Thanks mate :D My inner kinkster came out and this got waaaayyy longer than I expected it to be, hope ya'll like it :D. Play the game HERE:

Prompt: "I’m in a good mood today, you may choose your punishment this time but only if you ask for it politely."

CW:NSFW, puppy play, puppy Simon and Soap, GN reader, bondage, spanking, overstimulation, BDSM, orgasm denial, numerous orgasms, Dom/Sub dynamic, my inner kinkster came out.

Johnny pants against his lips as they thrust both of their cocks into the fleshlight between them, slick lube and precum wetly 'squelch' inside the silicone hole when Johnny bucks his hips, gripping Ghost like a lifeline. Ghost can't believe he let Soap coerce him like this— to go into your shared bedroom to steal the fleshlight you use to reward them and fuck it when you've given them a direct order not to cum without you.

But with all of you so busy the frustration had been steadily building in their bones for weeks now and it wasn't like you'd ever find you; they'd be quick about it, just a quick rut and then clean up like they had never been there — That's how Johnny had justified it, whimpering so sweetly against Simon's ear as he grinded against Ghost's leg.

"Yeah, fock, just like that Si," Johnny groans at the tightness both of their cocks make of the fleshlight, shivers racing down his spine as Simon presses him further against the wall. "C'mon, clo-I'm close-"

"Johnny, actin' like a desperate slut there." Ghost growls and bites Soap's shoulder, cock throbbing at the way his words make Johnny moan, the fleshlight getting slicker from Soap's precum.

The sound of the door opening rings like an executioner's gavel. Simon yanks the toy off their cocks the moment his brain registers the sound. "Simon! Oh you focker-" He slaps a hand over Johnny's mouth before he can make things worse, the rough move finally drawing Johnny's attention to you. Slut, Simon want's to call him when Johnny's cock twitches upon meeting your gaze, no doubt burning even hotter from being caught.

Simon knows they're in deep shit when, upon finding them fucking a toy pussy like mongrel mutts, all you do is smirk. "Well look at you two." You hum, eyes momentarily flickering to the used toy Simon had flung across the room. "I'm in a good mood today," Walking up to them and scruffing them both gently. Too gently. "You may choose your punishment this time, but only if you ask nicely."

Dumb little Soap perks up at your words, unable to notice the dark look in your eyes when all of his blood is rushing south into his throbbing cock. The fucker bites Ghost's fingers and the moment Simon jerks back from surprise Soap's on his knees, nuzzling his head into your groin. "Please bonnie-" He breathes out, sticking out his bottom lip and forcing watery tears to prickle the corners of his eyes. "-need tae cum, please, want tea cum so bad." Soap's clever, knows how to make himself look so pathetic you can't help but indulge the little glutton; but not clever enough.

You card your fingers through his short mohawk, a soft smile tugging on your lips as his cock bobs uselessly against your boot. "My little puppy wants to cum for his punishment huh?" Soap nods his head frantically, melting against your leg as he thinks he's won you over; think's he's escaped your wrath; thinks he's safe.

Ghost knows better, sees the mischievous look in your eyes. "And you?" You ask him, choosing to ignore Soap when he starts grinding his cock against your boot, "How do you want to be punished?" Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, letting him know it's not a question he has time to ponder.

Numerous punishments run through his mind, all bound to leave him pleasantly aching for days, but he choses the one most likely to give him a release- "Spanking."

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline and even Soap stops his grinding to look at him, muttering a smug 'blimey dumbarse' under his breath. "Is that so?" You ask, your tone reminding him of your previous words.

"Please," He manages to say, biting on his bottom lip. "I've been bad, need to be punished." A shiver races down his spine in the way your eyes light up, something foreboding gnawing on his bones as you ruffle his hair.

"If you say so," You glance between both of them. "On the bed then, clothes off." You say, stepping away to go grab their toys, expecting them to comply.

Soap still thinks he's safe, eagerly stripping bare without a care, whining and tugging Simon's clothes off when he feels like Ghost is going too slow. But a bad and hot feeling stirs in Simon's stomach when he catches sight of what you bring back; rope, collars, a puppy mask, plugs, a paddle and the toy they both hate- the vibrating cock ring and plug combo that can edge them for hours without letting them cum.

"Since you're the one who brought Simon down to your level, you don't get to talk tonight." You growl as you fasten the collar and puppy mask on Soap's face, the muzzle turning him mute as the matching pink collars humiliate them both wonderfully. Before Soap can even begin to struggle upon seeing the hated toy you quickly tie him up, hands above his head and legs spread with his knees near his chest.

"Shhh-" You shush Soap as you push a lubed finger into him, more to get his hole slick than to stretch him out. "-you're the one who wanted this puppy," Soap growls pitifully when you replace your finger with the plug; it's slender and long, not even as thick as your finger, but the curve in it's neck forces the bulbous head to press against his prostate. "And don't you worry, you'll be cumming until you can't." The dark promise in your words has Soap squirming, the way you harshly put the cock ring on him making Soap squirm and yip as if that'll be enough to change your mind.

"Now as for you-" You're a little softer with Ghost, gentle but firm hands spreading him on his belly so his head's resting between Soap's thighs, so close to Johnny's cock he could kiss the red tip. "For every 10 spanks Johnny will get to cum," Your lubed fingers breaching Simon's ass makes him groan, his walls clamping on your fingers and a bead of precum seeping into the sheets against his cock every time your fingers press massage over his prostate. "You aren't allowed to cum." Ghost squeezes his eyes shut, whole body shuddering and nodding his head as you push a second finger inside him to squeeze the special spot inside him between two fingers; he's already used to this trick, knows how to tense his leg to stave off orgasm.

"If you can reach 60 spanks without cuming, I'll let you fuck him." You add, removing your fingers to push the broad head of a tail plug against his pulsing rim. It's not the vibrating kind, thank god, but Soap watches transfixed how Ghost's mouth opens in a silent moan as his his walls are forced to stretch around the large insertion. "Fail, or let Johnny cum without getting your spanks in, and your cock's joining Johnnie's in a cage for a few weeks." The plug, thankfully, doesn't press right on his prostate like Soap's, but the playful swat you give his rump has a strangled moan falling from his lips as the head of the plug bashing against that special spot inside him. "Am I understood?"

"Crystal." Ghost breathes out, his eyes already getting bleary. He can see your reflection in Soap's eyes, knows when you pick up the paddle by the way Johnny's dick twitches against his face. The sudden smack against the fat of his arse has him wheezing out a "One-" his cheeks jiggling from the force, the skin reddening soon after.

Just watching you spank Simon has Johnny's cock leaking, every number moaned in Simon's rough voice making his cock throb. The way Ghost's eyes close when a new smack of the paddle has that large plug brushing against his prostate makes Soap clench pitifully around the inactive plug inside him, wanting something bigger. The dead toys inside and around Soap's cock come to life the second Simon growls out a "Ten.", causing Soap to moan.

You push Simon's gasping mouth down on Soap's cock, putting the paddle down to firmly grope his reddening cheeks as encouragement. They're both such masochists that it works like a charm, a sharp pinch of his ass getting Simon to messily suck and slurp down his dick while Johnny whines and trembles, assaulted with sensation until he cums inside Simon's mouth with a loud whine. Simon swallows down it all without complaint, barely fast enough to pop off Johnny's cock to croak out an "Eleven-" when the paddle spanks his flesh again.

Johnny whines, thighs trembling pitifully as he realizes the vibrations don't stop after his orgasm. Simon notices the way Johnny's whines grow soft again, the Scott tumbling towards orgasm faster than the leisurely pace you're spanking Ghost with. Without thinking he reaches out to grab the base of his cock with a firm grip, his fist like a secondary cock ring, Ghost's hand keeping Johnny's hips pinned until you smack his rear again-"Twenty!"- and Soap cums the second his fist eases, splashing his sweaty chest with his cum.

You look up to see Soap's cheeks stained with tears, chest rising and falling rapidly with disformed hiccups as the toys just continue to vibrate on max. Simon's skin is also starting to from bright to dark red in some places, the force behind each slap ensuring he'll be able to feel this punishment for weeks.

Soap's shaking his head desperately by the time Simon grounds out "Thirty-" and it takes a few sharp pinches to his aching rear to get Ghost's mouth back on Johnny's cock, but even half blissed out as he is he knows how to make Soap cum, running his teeth along the oversensitive vein along the bottom of his cock and nibbling a bit on his swollen balls enough to force him into another orgasm.

At "Fo-forty!" there's a growing damp spot of pre beneath Simon as he tries desperately to keep his cock from brushing against the sheets. "Fuck...Fifty-" Comes soon after and both of them are so fucked out that Soap can only manage a weak spurt of cum, whole cock as red as Simon's rear.

"You two are doing so well," You praise, tracing the rapidly blooming bruises from the swell of Simon's arse to the middle of his thighs, purposely tugging on his tail to have him moan around Johnny's length, his cock weakly spurting a small dollop of precum onto the sheets as the wide head of the plug grinds against his prostate. "Just, one more, you can do it."

You wait for a few seconds after Soap cums again for Simon to settle against his legs, his body so worn out by the constant abuse on his prostate that he doesn't even notice when he nuzzles into Soap's aching cock. Only then do you strike again, abstaining from the paddle to smack the reddening flesh with the flat of your hand just so you can grope his cheek, making the plug insistently shift inside him.

"Fifty- shit, Fifty one..." Simon slurs like he's drunk, both of them long past tears. You draw out the last 9 slaps, groping and pinching his aching skin and loving how Simon groans and drools against Soap's cock. "Sixty, ah! Sixty!" Simon howls with the final slap, whole body feeling like it's ready to fall apart, his brain desperately clinging to his skull when the rest of him is ready to leak through his dick. There's a painful cramp in his stomach from having to hold off so long, having long since replaced the jealousy he'd felt at having Soap cum again and again while he's kept on the edge of a knife.

"Such a good boy Simon," You coo softly, even a gentle rub of his flesh causing him to hiss and attempt to wiggle away from your hand. You catch his eye as he stares back at you, Soap's cum staining his hair as his cock rests against Simon's face.

Soap can barely lift his head to look at you, eyes blurry as he tries to convey that he can't cum any more, his cock throbbing from the constant stimulation. When you turn off the vibrators he swears he'd cry tears of joy if there was anything left in him, body so lax he feels like a puddle.

Then you sneak a hand down to feel Simon's dick, still achingly hard , chuckling when Simon groans and bites down weakly on Soap's thigh. "How about it boy? Ready for your reward?" You laugh as your words make both of them twitch, Soap's hole clenching needily on the slim neck of the plug as the thought of having something thick spread him open cuts through the fog of overstimulation and exhaustion like a knife.

You smirk for Johnny and easily slide the vibrating plug out of him, receiving a whine from Johnny like he's hurt. You shush them gently, having to support Simon as you reposition his cockhead against Soap's twitching hole.

"Go on then, good boy," You chuckle, "Take your reward Simon,"

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