#as in 2.2k words long

[ohm-myy-god]

Hello Edna and Harvey fans & all interested parties, here I present to you my made up fan-lore for Edna’s mom (and her dynamics with other characters and all that). Also featuring some supplemental artwork.

Warning in advance it’s very long, but it’s split into sections and has pictures so hopefully it’s bearable. Have fun…

Sketch page from May 2022

So this is my character for Edna’s mom, her name is Ana. 

My main idea for her was that, in contrast to Mattis’s sort of helpless attitude about parenting, she was the more assertive parent. Not necessarily mean or strict, but she had more self confidence and experience working with children, and overall gave the impression that she “knew what she was doing”, at least from her husband's perspective. 

This leads into her passing being not only a major blow for her family for obvious reasons, but also because Mattis wasn’t ready to be a single parent and never really adapted to the role. He was very stressed all the time and part of that came from feeling extremely inferior in his capabilities of being a father, with pressure from his neighbor/friend who seemed to have the most perfectly behaved kid(s) (ah yes the perfect family nothing to see here), and from his belief that his wife would’ve made a better single parent than him. That’s not necessarily the truth, as it would’ve been hard for anyone, but that was his perception of it. 

I’ll now go into outlining her individual personality and her relationship with her family:

Physical description:

Appearance Timeline:

(Note on her Birth Year: My whole e&h timeline is based around the assumption that Brich Aus takes place in 2008; so Edna was born in ~1990 and Mattis was born in ~1957, give or take a year. This also therefore means Mattis and anyone his age is a boomer (heartbreaking).) 

Name- Ana is a name I picked for no specific reason. I don’t know why I used that spelling instead of Anna but I did, and I’m used to it now, but if you prefer Anna it also works. 

I didn’t pick a maiden name yet, so for now she only exists as Ana Konrad. DOCTOR Konrad actually but we’ll get to that. 

Appearance- Ana looks very much like her daughter; they have the same eyes and complexion and hair (albeit different styles). I think the more “realistic” you try to make Edna and Harvey the more confusing it gets, so yeah their purple hair is genetic and natural and not specific to Edna (I mean it’s not like she could dye it in the hospital anyway). I just think of it as regular dark hair in their universe. 

Personality:

In terms of personality, Ana was very goal-oriented. She was calmer and more collected than Edna, but just as determined to do whatever she set her mind to. She liked reading and writing more than Edna, but much like Edna she was always rather lonely no matter how outgoing she was. Their circumstances were different, but both Edna and her mom were kind of socially outcast growing up.

I’ll go more into her time at school in a later section, but when going to Uni her choice was to study psychology, and eventually be a child psychiatrist. Which might seem random but LISTEN… I think the idea of her being a psychiatrist with a completely different mindset from Marcel’s is a fun one, and it sorta adds to the tragedy of “man, if only someone could’ve stopped this” when it comes to how Mattis bought into Marcel’s ideology. And it adds another layer as to why Mattis trusts in unstable hypothetical science so much more than himself or his own daughter. And overall, I think she is a “strong-headed professional” just by personality, and being a doctor makes her seem far more impressive or competent than Mattis (especially from his perspective). 

As a kid, Ana loved climbing trees. She and Mattis spent a lot of time there as kids. She also loved to sing and dance, things she probably did less and less as she got older. 

Being that they lived next to a church in a small town, it seems to be that the Konrads were at least a bit religious (and in the audio book they mention Edna threw a Bible in the basement fireplace). I haven’t really thought about how that might play into their lives, but I like the angle that Mattis became more religious / started going to church after his wife died. (Edna meanwhile is not religious—too many arbitrary rules for her.)

Relationship with neighbors:

Ana was definitely more suspicious of Marcel when they first moved next to him than her husband was. Not that she assumed he was evil or anything, but she was a bit worried about how he was parenting his kids. Ana found the kids’ behavior more concerning than “exemplary”. But she chalked it up to Marcel having a hard time adjusting after his wife left and didn’t really investigate; she wasn’t around for the whole “we should brainwash kids to make them behave better” era, that happened later. She probably just vaguely distrusted him. 

I like to imagine she hung out with Ruben if the neighbors came over too. Kind of like how Mattis would end up “babysitting” Edna and Alfred later on a lot, maybe she’d play cards with him or something and inadvertently create a more positive experience than anything Marcel ever did. Ruben needs someone in his life looking out for him…unfortunately this arrangement didn’t last long. 

Relationship with Edna’s dad:

Ana and Mattis were childhood sweethearts; I imagine they met in high school and started dating near the end of it, so maybe the final year before university. But they were friends before that too. 

Basically, their dynamic as kids was “trouble maker” and “kid who gets good grades but is also a trouble maker”. I like the idea that in contrast to his adult personality, Mattis was a lot more like Edna as a kid; he was still always a bit timid, but he had a rebellious phase where he wanted to stick it to the authorities and lash out more. At this point in his adolescence, he got into trouble a lot, and it wasn’t until Uni that he really changed himself around. (However, ironically, instead of being able to sympathize with his daughter when she started acting out later, he could only envision all the bad things that might happen to her as a consequence of her behavior and it made him all the more stressed to find a way to “fix” her.) 

Ana, however, wasn’t quite so rebellious and did well at school. She felt the same way on the inside, though, and the two found kinship in wanting to “run away from it all” and escape pressure from family/peers. They would hang out on tree branches and throw rocks at people they didn’t like, but Ana still avoided anything that might get her in serious trouble. 

But basically, dumb kids doing shenanigans. Ana didn’t think Mattis was particularly smart for vandalizing property and getting detention, but she also didn’t think less of him for it. Perhaps she had the “oh I can fix him” mindset, but mostly she was admiring his dedication. 

But when it was time to go to university they decided to break up, since they’d be moving apart. They were sad about it, but they both moved along and figured they’d never see eachother again.

…That was, until they met again sort of randomly as adults years later.

This was probably 4 or more years after they’d started Uni; Ana was still in school and was a bit too busy for a serious relationship but they stuck together anyway and ended up dating again. This ended up working out, and they eventually got married. (Apparently it isn’t that uncommon to marry even while pursuing a doctorate, but I haven’t picked what year they got married. Shrug)

(Note about psychiatric education lmao- from what I can tell, it takes at least 6 years of medical school and an additional 5 years of full-time employment to become board-certified psychiatrist. Assuming Ana started university when she was 18, she was at least 30 when she got her doctor's degree.) 

(Also, I can imagine being a woman pursuing a doctorate in the 80s wasn’t that common or easy, and I thought about her just being a psychologist instead since that takes half the amount of time. However have you considered the THEMATIC PARALLELS the IRONY of it all… Edna’s mom was a doctor and it’s funnier that way.) 

Mattis and his wife would definitely be at odds sometimes because of the difference in their personalities. I think the dynamic would provide interesting conflict & they’d work it out. 

Parenting:

So I suppose the big question is, how would Ana have affected Edna’s life had she lived longer?

I think the loss of her mother contributed heavily to Edna’s childhood rebelliousness. Not that she wouldn’t have had behavioral issues or struggled with making friends anyway, but I think she became so dependent on her own subconscious / on Harvey as a result of loneliness; evidence from the comic can back this up. In the comic, Edna is very withdrawn and more timid pre-Harvey, and Harvey’s eventual personality seems to be highly influenced by Freya - Edna’s close friend who coped with her own struggles by rebelling instead of following all the rules. Seeing as both girls also had a missing mother figure (again, WHO DOESN'T IN THIS SERIES), I don’t think it’s a stretch to imagine Edna started feeling alone in the world when her mother passed. 

But tangent aside, I don’t think Ana would’ve necessarily had an easier time with Edna than Mattis, but with the crucial difference that she wouldn't have been so easily influenced by others opinion on her parenting (eg Marcel). Anyone has insecurities, but listening to someone else basically say “your kid should get brainwashed” and thinking “mmmm maybe” is a very concerning state of mind. 

Ana would have been frustrated and would have got impatient. She would have wanted Edna to “act normal” but she might have been more adept at figuring out WHY she was acting out. But meanwhile, I also think that being a doctor, there would have been tension in the fact that Ana saw “patients” and her daughter as entirely separate; thinking, Edna couldn’t be as mentally ill as the people she worked with…there must be a different answer…

But as a little kid, Edna got along just fine with her mom. They played together and did puzzles and ran in the sprinklers and mud and everything like that. Maybe even played with stuffed animals pretending that they could talk. 

Rip 💀

So: death. For the record I think the trope of “main character’s mom died” isn’t very intriguing or creative (and I mean. Do you know any e&h characters with a mom? any of them? Exactly.) However, it isn’t even brought up by Edna in the game at all, and the “show not tell” aspect is a bit cool at least. (It isn’t even until the “yo mama” joke in the 2nd game that Edna is pointed out as an orphan. Her memory got washed and all so she didn’t even think of her mom when looking through her old house.) And if we were to ignore poki’s character profile website, yes, it’s also equally as plausible that Edna’s mom left rather than died. BUT personally I prefer this version because I already wrote this whole thing lol (and anyway, I think Marcel’s wife for sure left him, and we don’t want to get too repetitive). 

But how did she die??…I haven’t really picked an answer to that. 

If we’re looking for story parallels, medical malpractice or even being MURDERED might work, but I just don’t really know. Maybe it’s a let-down, but I’m indecisive, sorry  🤷 

Ana became sort of idolized in death by Mattis especially, since Edna couldn't properly remember her as time went on. 

Bit of a tangent, but I think a lot of self doubt and insecurity and general depression contributed to Mattis being lost about parenting—with the fact that Edna was intentionally acting out, fighting against something she saw as intrinsically opposed to her. In the 1st tempomorph Edna “sees” through Harvey that her dad is betraying her and eating ice cream with Alfred- this is her imagination, but it shows her perception of her father as a kid, that he wasn’t looking out for her. I think it’s clear Mattis cared about his daughter but he was just unable to rise above his own insecurities and be there for her. (I also think he went a teensy bit off-the-rails when the Murder happened and that’s partially why he pleaded guilty. Guy broke down). After all, his wife wouldn’t have ever let Edna act so uncontrollably if she were alive, would she?  

That’s it

Thanks for reading all that if you did!! Hope reading about shit I made up was entertaining. I might do this again with other characters for funsies at some point in the distant future, we’ll see. 

She isn’t even a character I spend too much time thinking about, so I figured this would be a good way to practice organizing my thoughts. And draw her some more since it’d been a while. It was fun.

Let me know your thoughts/impressions of her…

& goodbye 👋 

Bonus- sketches from May 2022

#edna and harvey #edna bricht aus #original art #long post #as in 2.2k words long

[lildoodlenoodle]

First things first(spoilers for spiderverse/spidergeddon and comic noir storyline) this is a long post but you’ll have fun I promise. As always feel free to engage with the post, I’d love to hear different theories/opinions/conclusions on this in the tags or comments. Sorry it took so long!

Now I’m gonna say something morbid:

Spider Noir’s death in the comics was hilarious

Jarring, but hilarious. Like why’d he grab him like that. I physically had to shut off my iPad and go for a walk after this scene when I first read it.

But to my point, you know how some people say your birth mark is how you died in your last life?

Well post resurrection we might have A, B, and C:

(Now before anyone gets on me for, why would you do that/even think of this? In my defense, I couldn’t remember where he was grabbed, it’s been a while since I’ve read these. I thought it was gonna be on his back or shoulder and I’d give him a burned on handprint going all ‘gripped you tight and raised from perdition’ which is cool, fun, sexy, and conveniently hidden. Then I reread it and it’s basically a permanent face palm. Also pretend his face looks the same in every one. Couldn’t decide on hair either lol.)

Either way post resurrection Peter should have physical after effects of his resurrection. Either lines all over his body from having the life force sucked out of him or birth/burn marks on his face. I think this would be hilarious, angsty, and interesting. I also hate when people are just resurrected willynilly. LET THE TRAUMA OF DYING AND COMING BACK TAKE ITS TOLE. Especially if it’s multiple times.

In MK: Midnight Mission they, pretty recently, came up against this problem with the MK system being resurrected over and over again and facing really no visible consequences. But then we find out, there isn’t really a limit(ignoring the whole Khonshu imprisonment), but eventually mentally, there will be nothing left to resurrect. And the mindless mummy warrior creatures we meet from Khonshu’s ‘world’ were old avatars that wasted away from resurrections. It explains the alterations and perversions of the MK system’s mental conditions, because they are actively being altered and changed, to be brought back, by a multidimensional creature that doesn’t care about their mental health/state(that Khonshu takes advantage of, knowing what he’s doing). Sound familiar?

Now, time to get philosophical. Ship of Theseus.

What is it? Ship of Theseus is an ideological/philosophy problem about a king, Theseus, who saved the children of Athens from king Minos and the Minotaur and then sailed his ship to Delos. Then each year Athenians would sail that same ship from Athens to Delos in celebration of the myth. Over time they kept replacing parts of the ship for maintenance purposes, till every plank had been replaced, so they could still make the voyage. Now the question is, is it still the same ship? At what point did it stop becoming that original ship? And does it matter?

Applying this philosophical exercise to resurrection, with what we know above, we can get an interesting dialogue going. But, with that said, it’s important to keep in mind that the resurrection process in this context with these multidimensional gods isn’t explained with enough detail to really take it apart. Like what happens to the soul? Is the brain damage we know Marc has from repeatedly dying and his brain repeatedly going without oxygen or is it from just interacting with a multidimensional god? Is the spider god comparable to Khonshu? Is the spider god even real, if not what or how was Peter actually resurrected? And if it is real, what is its main goal? At least with Khonshu we know he has an agenda. What does it want, what’s its end game?

But let’s get into it anyways.

Now, you may be wondering, why do I keep saying multiple resurrections in regards to Spider noir? I am so glad you asked! I believe Peter's initial spider bite killed him. He had to go to the afterlife to actually see the spider god. That’s why we really only see them three times, at the initial power conception, Peter’s resurrection, and when Peter goes to the ‘underworld’ in the 2020 run. We see something similar with Khonshu in Midnight mission, while he’s in space jail, Marc can only see him during resurrections or while he’s dead. And while we’re comparing the MK system to spider noir, when Marc got his powers, he basically had to die first. That was implied to be his first resurrection. So this wouldn’t be a one off situation. We have some rules.

What we don’t see with Moonknight and Khonshu is visual physical change. Outside of the ghost bird skull armor the boys aren’t visually changing. Meanwhile, Peter has physically turned into a monster before and turned completely back. In #4/5 of the 2020 noir run the cicada stone/pink meteor turns people into monsters, but not everyone. Huma turns, Shocker turns, Peter turns, and all the resurrected villains(one guy just explodes). But Hu-Ri and Checkpoint Red don’t, until Hu-Ri touches the stone. Huma and Peter are both in close proximity to eldritch beings, them turning into inspired versions of those beings make sense. The Shocker turns because he spent so much time holding onto the stone, whereas Red hasn't. But notice Shocker and Hu-Ri don’t turn into an animal inspired version of themselves like Huma and Peter do, he becomes more of a hulk like creature, because he isn’t attached to an other-worldly being. And when Peter turned back he essentially said “that hurt like a bitch” and kept moving.

If we want to keep with the canon noir timeline and going with the idea that the Spider god is either continuously changing Peter, or just changing him during resurrections this would explain the webbing and mood/personality change from the 2009 comics to the 2020 comics. But that’s boring and too simple and I hate the time jump so fuck that shit.(again another post).

So let’s focus back on ‘Ship of Theseus’ in the context of resurrection. We have too many questions about the process of resurrection for spider noir to properly have this conversation, but I’m going to try anyways. Let’s hit what we know again: resurrection changes your brain chemistry/structure, the spider god is changing Peter throughout the series, Peter has possibly had three resurrections, the spider god resurrected Peter from a different dimension, which confirms this is a multidimensional being(if she exists but shhhh). So now that we’ve established that there are changes happening to Peter(one way or another) we know that the spider god is ‘repairing’ Peter throughout the series or ‘replacing his boards’ so to speak.

At what point is this no longer Peter? Is it when he is no longer recognizable as a human? Or is it when there is nothing left in his mind to resurrect? Or has this never been Peter, or rather not since his first resurrection when he got his powers? Is this change sudden or slow? Is it the resurrection that turns him into something else, is it slow build up like an Iodine Clock titration and one day he just wakes up no longer human, or is it a slow process of subtle changes? But if the latter, what’s the change that does it? What defines Peter’s humanity? Does it matter if he’s human or not? Does it change anything for him if he’s no longer human in body and mind?

Part of the answer may lie in the villains we see through the 2009 and 2020 runs. In the first run the main villains were the Goblin and the Vulture. Both who were implied to not be human or having physical inhuman qualities(but I’m partially ignoring the whole carney thing cause honestly it’s ableist and boring). In Eyes Without A Face, the second run, the main villains are the Crime Master and Dr. Octavious, both humans with no inhuman or supernatural qualities. For simplicity sake, let’s focus on Octavious and Goblin. In comparing the two I think most people would agree Octavious is the more heinous of the two. Goblin takes on the role of a mob boss. He runs a crime empire, exploiting the defenseless in New york. It’s nothing new and he’s even somewhat sympathetic ‘I’m finished with freakshows’, you can understand how he got where he is. This is not to say he isn’t a villain but he very much fits the ‘villain with a tragic backstory’. People look at him like he is a monster, we, the reader, start out the story knowing what he is.

Whereas Octavious is not even remotely sympathetic because there is no empathizing with how he ended up there and why he does what he does. He is not only othered by his actions but also by the narrative for his disability(it’s important to acknowledge the ableism in his story but that is another post). Ultimately his delusions and the acts he commits make him a much more sinister monster than Norman, despite Norman actually having stereotypical qualities of a monster.

Then we have Huma and Shocker from the 2020 run. Huma is the closest person we see who is in a similar situation to Peter in terms of the spider god. While we don’t know all the details, whether she is the same as Peter, bearing a curse of power, or the actual god. Either way she presents as human and is not treated differently than any other human woman. At the end of the series we realize how corrupt she is and that she’s been working with Nazi’s, not necessarily for the ideology but to achieve what she wants. Her transformation is the nail in her coffin of her monsterous perception. The question is did we need her to look like a monster to see her as one?

In general we are left with more questions and theories than answers.

But onto my subjective answers to the questions. My answers might change over time so don’t hold me to them.

Of course it matters if Peter has humanity. Peter Parker across the board is one of the characters who HAS to hold himself to a moral code or he falls apart and becomes the villain(well maybe not the villain but you know what I mean) of the story. He holds back during fights and has a no kill policy for a reason.(Good men don’t need rules, today is not the day to find out why I have so many.-dr.who) But noir Peter isn’t your typical Peter. He kills, he maims, he doesn’t hold back. With that said, he still is held together by his morality. It’s just different than what we are used to seeing from Peter, but don’t mistake that as a lack of morality. However, do I think it’s a very real possibility that this morality could be eroded over time especially considering his home world and the above circumstances? Absolutely. Peter is someone who historically needs someone to ground him and ‘make’ him human. This is normally May Parker, Mary Jane, Gwen Stacy, occasionally Harry Osborn, Daredevil, Johnny Storm, and Flash Thompson, and the ghost of Ben Parker. Dude lives by a passing saying of a dead relative, he clearly doesn’t have a super solid moral compass. I think this is part of the reason the noir comics kept his relationship with May and Mary Jane(I disagree but whatever whatever), because he needs support to stay grounded.

Now, under what circumstances is Peter no longer Peter? I’m going with the Iodine Clock titration theory. Just drop after drop of ‘changes’ and morally questionable decisions that don’t seem to hold much weight, until he does something truly off the reservation. Like seeing himself do something truly horrific that a couple years ago he would have never done and shocking himself out of it. Or looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a person staring back. For either circumstance, because he’s appalled with himself or struck by the fact he doesn’t really care. This is not to say I don’t think he could come back from this but holy shit will it be a process.

But it brings us back to ‘If there is too much power then it is the responsibility of the people to take it away.’ Peter losing his humanity puts him in the Goblin’s place as the one with great power that cannot be trusted from the first comic. Whether it’s the resurrections, the spider god ‘replacing’ parts of him, or him just being pushed to the brink mentally that does it. Whether the change is physical, neurological, spiritual, or mental. This ‘Peter’ is not the Peter we first meet in 1932.

This is a different ship, and you can sail and stay on the same course in memory of, or under the false pretense of being, the original as many times as you want, but you cannot bring back the parts you replaced and undo the ‘improvements’ you made. But that doesn’t need to make Peter a monster.

#2.2k words later… #the long awaited ship of Theseus post #spidernoir analysis #by me. I’ve been waiting to talk about this #and has been in my draft 90% done for A MONTH #rabid behavior #this is literally so long I will be happy if I get two likes #cannot believe I used a Dr.who quote for this #spider noir conspiracies #Spider-Man noir #spider noir #spiderman #into the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spidergeddon #moon knight #moonknight: Midnight mission #Khonshu #spidergod #resurrection #death tw #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant #steven with a v #comics #peter benjamin parker #marvel #ship of theseus #the inheritors

[everlastiingiimmortals]

A Review of the Aeons: Insight into Jing Yuan's Perspective

Jing Yuan is an interesting character to me as someone who is at a crossroads between multiple Aeons. As a Xianzhou native, he is undeniably tied to Yaoshi -- his existence, in effect, is entirely thanks to them. As a Cloud Knight and more importantly an Arbiter-General, Jing Yuan not only aligns himself with Lan's goals but is a representation of the Hunt. And yet Jing Yuan himself does not stride upon the Path of the Hunt, but rather the Erudition. What does this mean for him? How has this impacted his outlook? How has it affected his life? These are a few of the questions I want to address, looking at it from the angles of his nature, his alignment, and his personality respectively.

I do want to make a strong clarification here before getting into the thick of it and reaffirm some things: any and all ties Jing Yuan may have to Nous are entirely my own headcanon and speculation. He has no explicit relation to Nous in game aside from being an Erudition character with respect to game mechanics.

So the first and most obvious thing to look at is Jing Yuan's nature. As a member of the Homo celestinae species (which, mind you, should be a species, not a subspecies, because a subspecies would be Homo sapien celestinae - sincerely, an ecology major) Jing Yuan has an immortal body thanks to the blessings of Yaoshi that precede even his time. There's a deep irony that comes with the existence of the Xianzhou Alliance as their goal is to destroy the very thing that effectively defined their existence. One could consider every single Xianzhou native to be a child of Yaoshi, in a sense. Most would not like that association. Jing Yuan himself actually... isn't affected it. He's well aware of the reason for his existence and that the birth of the Xianzhou cannot be removed from Yaoshi. In fact, Jing Yuan is also very aware of the good that can come of the Path of the Abundance. This is reflected in his desire to become a Galaxy Ranger as a child; he didn't start out hating Yaoshi despite being of the Alliance. That hatred was very much taught (and not unreasonably so). He certainly doesn't think favorably of Yaoshi -- he has been deeply affected by their Abominations, after all, and as an Arbiter-General he is also obligated to uphold the beliefs of the Alliance and protect the Xianzhou. What Jing Yuan doesn't like is the parallels between him and Yaoshi. Dealing with the Abundance as much as he has, naturally, leads to an intimate understanding of his enemy regardless of if he is happy about it or not. He understands the nature of Yaoshi's benevolence, and combined with his nightmare, he's very much unsettled by the idea of himself being associated with Yaoshi by way of his virtues, of his giving and self-sacrificial demeanor. I think... in a way, he can empathize with Yaoshi, to some extent, and that is what bothers him the most. Does he agree with the Abundance or align with their Path? No, of course not. But that does not mean he cannot see the reason for their existence, just as much as he can see the reason for their destruction. I think any interactions between him and Yaoshi, if they'd happen, would be nothing but tense and borderline hostile at the very least, but I'd also love to see how Jing Yuan would react to having to face the reason for his existence, the entity he's trying to destroy, the embodiment of his own values.

On the other side of the same coin, while Jing Yuan reflects the gentler aspects of Yaoshi, he also represents Lan as one of the Arbiter-Generals. He can be seen almost as an extension of Lan themself, along with the other Arbiter-Generals and the Marshal. We don't know if there are any Emanators of the Hunt, but if there were then the Arbiter-Generals would be the obvious choice (it's in the name!), much like how Nanook's Emanators are the commanders of their army. It seems like when the Arbiter-Generals speak, they do so on behalf not just of their respective ship, or the Alliance as a whole, but also on behalf of Lan when it comes to the other Aeons. Whether Lan assists them outside of affairs that deal specifically with the Abundance is unknown currently given that their entire existence revolves around eliminating the Abundance, and I believe this is ultimately left up to interpretation until we get more information, but we do know that Lan responds to the Alliance's call and is ultimately loyal to them, as they draw their power directly from the Hunt and not just their Path, so I don't think it's too far of a stretch to say that enemies made of the Alliance are also made of Lan themself -- but I digress. I do think it's very likely that Jing Yuan is one of seven Emanators of Lan, given that he states that no one can enter the Luofu without him knowing unless they are assisted by an Emanator of another Aeon. He's directly blessed by Lan, and I think this leads to him having heightened instincts and senses (which were already sharp to begin with!) to truly embody the idea of the Hunt. I like to think, too, that Lan chooses the Arbiter-Generals through a sign, whether it be light shining down on them or otherwise, rather than the generals being chosen through regular military promotion (more about this later). This makes the most sense with my previous analysis on the Arbiter-Generals and their pretty heavy overlap with the other Commissions. What this does is give the Arbiter-Generals a very credible status of divinity, quite literally directly given to them by Lan themself. ...However, it's important to note that Jing Yuan never desired this status. I've been wondering why he became a General if he never wanted to in the first place, and while I do believe he did so out of the love he had for the lost members of the HCQ and his love for the Luofu, I also think it makes a lot of sense if he didn't have a choice, because Lan chose him in the wake of Teng Xiao's death. Both led to this sense of obligation. How does one possibly reject everything they align themself with, after all? Jing Yuan's always admired the myths of the Hunt, ever since he was young. But as he grew and aged and continued to live, that admiration of heroic freedom slowly shed form and became an acute awareness of the ultimate doom of the Xianzhou. Either they collapse and burn out pursuing the Path of the Hunt (three of their ships have already fallen, after all), or they somehow succeed in their eternal, unending endeavors and the Reignbow Arbiter's reason for being ceases to exist. Then what? What happens after that? What happens to the Xianzhou? ...Can he just leave after understanding all that? He doesn't know. He doesn't think so. So he remains as one of Lan's Emanators dutifully, anticipating not just his own eventual end but that of the Alliance and the Hunt as well.

It's funny, then, to think about the fact that my Jing Yuan did reject an Aeon before he was selected as Lan's Emanator. At this point I've made no secret about the association I've drawn between Jing Yuan and the Erudition. Despite being an Emanator of Lan, he strides upon the Path of Erudition -- here I want to make an important distinction, because the wiki is a little misleading: the game never once states that Emanators must be initially, or subsequently, walking along the same Path as their Aeon, at least not as far as I could see (please feel free to correct me if this is not the case, though!). We also know that it is possible to not just change Paths, but also embrace the power of multiple Paths at once. I believe this to be the case for Jing Yuan; he just aligns more strongly with the Erudition in his personal philosophy, but overall greater encompasses the idea of the Hunt due to his role (and lets be real, gameplay wise he can be just as good as a Hunt character when fighting one on one, holy shit). Jing Yuan attracted the attention of Nous early, due to his natural affinity for tactics and his intelligence, and I've discussed the moment he caught Nous' gaze, and subsequently given an Eye of Nous much like Fu Xuan. This was, effectively, not just a gift but also an invitation to Nous' Temple: one that Jing Yuan rejected due to the horrors he foresaw upon catching Nous' gaze. I've mentioned this in a prior headcanon post, but due to his rejection and the fact that Jing Yuan also did not ask for the Eye, it is incomplete and does not grant him visions. I think that Jing Yuan very well could have joined Ruan Mei as a member of the Genius Society, had he not rejected the key to the Temple! But he did. Honestly, Jing Yuan holds no insignificant amount of dislike for Nous and the Genius Society; he knows there's no point, but he still holds a slight grudge against Nous for burdening him with that eye -- he's only human, after all, or at least he'd like to be that way. He often wonders if things would have been different at all if he hadn't foreseen what would have happened to the HCQ... if he would have ended up blaming himself less or not. There's no point in thinking about that either, but he occasionally does. He dislikes the Genius Society for an equally petty reason -- he thinks they're almost all snobs, truthfully, far too engrossed in their searches for the answers they seek to hold any compassion for others, and he simply cannot agree with that kind of mentality. Stephen Lloyd is perhaps the one that Jing Yuan would bear no disdain towards. So, then, why does he still stride upon the Path of Erudition, or rather how does he do so while representing the Hunt? It's simple: his wisdom and foresight is what has led to the Luofu's survival and subsequent prosperity and fame. His wisdom and ability to recognize threats are best resolved by keeping them from happening in the first place earned him the attention of both Aeons, as worthy of being a member of the Genius Society and, later, worthy of leading one of the flagships of the Xianzhou.

With all these close ties to the gods themselves, it's no surprise that Jing Yuan is, in effect, a very divine character; this is something I've repeatedly made a point to emphasize out of character and also in character. I will state once again that Jing Yuan's divinity was imposed upon him, and this has led to Jing Yuan... often feeling like he does not belong to himself. He is not his own person. His eyes do not belong to him. His purpose and role in life does not belong to him. His mortality and existence do not belong to him. Jing Yuan is rather neutral about his opinions on the Aeons, speaking on them from a mostly objective standpoint and obviously from the side of Lan when talking about Yaoshi, but behind closed doors he may express some bitterness about them -- Lan included. He is wise enough to recognize that every single Aeon is a double edged sword, some with a far more wicked blade than others, and he has suffered at the hands of them multiple times, both from blessings and from curses. He's seen the destruction that is left in the wake of the Reignbow Arbiter's Lux Arrow, after all. There is no difference between salvation and destruction where Lan is concerned. And in the eyes of the Destruction, it does not matter why or how something is destroyed, only that it is. What does it matter if the Paths of the Hunt and the Destruction end up aligning if it's for the mutual goal of eliminating another? This is why Jingliu's speech at the end of the 1.3 story arc resonated with me so much, and why I do think that Jing Yuan will ultimately end up forming some sort of alliance with her and Luocha. To become the playthings of the gods, caught within their contests for power and dominance, is to be doomed to their whims, and he knows this. All one can do is try to stay ahead of the tide. Jing Yuan feels like there is little possibility to try to remove himself from this contest now without threatening the safety of the entire Luofu. He cannot break free anymore, and he hates it. His path was mapped out for him the moment he caught Nous' eye, likely before then, and he shares a similar mentality to Fu Xuan that fate... cannot be changed. At the very least, it takes someone truly, truly extraordinary to be able to do so.

He is not that person. He cannot be that person without putting everything he worked for at risk.

#//about; (DIVINE FORESIGHT) #((2.2k words.... holy shit i'm done)) #((i'm ngl i think my eyes glazed over multiple times writing this but PLEASE ENJOY IT TOOK SO FUCKING LONG)) #((i'm v proud of this asldkfjhalsfdkjh)) #Willow Rambles

[fullscoreshenanigans]

Do you have an ao3 account?

I do! Same url as here.

The goal is to actually post something on it lol

I currently have three ideas that I feel are within the realm of my current writing capabilities for a one- or two-shot:

• Don and Gilda sharing a moment with each member of the full score trio pre-Cuvitidala timeskip. I'm still not a hundred percent sure what their moment with Norman would be, but for Emma it would be going over Norman's letter and finalizing their escape plan (with them asking is it really okay to leave Ray on his own until January), and for Ray it would be him approaching them after he returns from Goldy Pond but before Emma wakes up from her coma to apologize for not being all there after Norman was shipped out and to thank them for being there for their family when he couldn't be. • Memory Keeper Ray AU set during the search for the Seven Walls. • Mostly canon-compliant, Cuvitidala-era one/two-shot where Ray pushes Emma out of the way of a demon ambush (which may or may not have been necessary) during one of the times where they’re on the way back to the bunker that winds up with him getting sick. While not a repeat of "The Day Emma Cried" story from the first light novel since Ray isn't fatally ill like they believed Norman was that summer, she can't help but notice the similarities in the situation as she goes off to find a solution to help speed up his recovery. Meanwhile, Ray's fevered dreams drift to his mother and eventually the missing member of their trio. This story was born from the desire of wanting RE to discuss Emma's dream from chapter 93 and as part of a set-up for endgame REN that leaves them off at a reasonable place for where I see them on that front: Emma always unconsciously gravitating and finding solace with the boys but not understanding the totality of those feelings (because Emma loves all of her family dearly; it's an immutable truth of the universe. So what makes them different) so there's some secrets unwittingly being kept on her side of things. Ray, in contrast, accepted that he loved Emma and Norman long ago, back when he first locked up his heart in order to maintain the mental fortitude needed to carry out his escape plan. While he also doesn't comprehend the full magnitude of those feelings (though this is a very poignant declaration),

he can consciously put a name to them, but he's intentionally holding back for a variety of reasons on this front (not wanting it to seem like there's an expectation of reciprocity, still dealing with the grief of Norman's apparent death, but the big one being they're still trying to find a way out of the demon world) and wrestling with the idea of revealing his connection to Isabella, what that connection says about him given the choices he's made, and potentially hearing someone else say things he's been telling himself for years.

#sorry for the tangent anon when your question was answered within the first six words kdjfs #have such a backlog of fics i need to properly comment on too gah </3 #FSS Chatter #FSS Asks #TPN Fanfic #Long Post #i do have a 2.2k outline for the last one but that doesn't really translate to a resonant read #with how i'm stuck in a script mindset for the dream sequences instead of in a fic one </3 #need to just power through thinking the execution is uninspired so that there's at least something uninspired to improve upon lol #Norrayemma #Noremray #yeah i'll throw that in the ship tags why not #by default i operate with a REN and Gildayshe endgame mindset unless otherwise stated #TPN S1 #Escape Arc #TPN 034 #TPN S1e11 #Goldy Pond Battle Arc #TPN 093 #Cuvitidala Arc #TPN 096 #me with my speedrun cheat of having Ray injured or sick to facilitate my indulgences of him opening up #just because with everything else going on I have a hard time seeing him do that regarding multiple topics unless prompted by this #or an outside antagonistic force lol

[solitaireships]

Me like two weeks ago: idk if I should call Block a boyfriend yet bcs I've known him for a long time but not gotten super into him until recently

Me now: I just wrote the longest ficlet I've done on here for him

#my posts #this isn't as long as most of my steadfast one shots #but i did comparatively pop off on this one #it's for the last prompt i have atm #and right now it's just shy of 2.2k words #i'm gonna edit it tonight and post it #🎖️ doomed by the narrative #🎖️

[that-was-anticlimactic]

I MISS NANAMIIIIIIIIIII

#working on my ts nanami oneshot for ts month and it is at 2.2k words right now #i have a feeling this is going to get kinda long prolly not like 8k or anything but Still longer than i honestly expect the rest of my ts #fics to get lol and the thing is this'll be the angstiest one which like duh it's jjk but sTILL there;'s angst in all of them but #not like This #i miss him so much #what do you mean nanami is dead and nobara is still not back??? no no no they are simply in s.okka's labyrinth #hahahahahahha... ha... h... a #i should go to bed it is eleven pm and i have work at seven am lol #but writing this just makes me think about how much i miss nanami #jjk spoilers

[champagnefountains]

LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Genre: Angst and hurt; somewhat fluffy (but only for a brief while). Warnings: Swearing. Unhealthy relationship/coping mechanisms (?). Word count: 2.2k+

Lucifer had been courting you for a couple of months already, the King of Hell finally deciding it was time to make the two of you official. The tension was so incredibly thick, that even the hotel’s patrons were growing sick of having to watch the two of you dance aimlessly around each other. Charlie included. 

The past couple of months were more than delightful – Lucifer treated you like a Queen, taking you out almost every other night, having nice candle-lit dinners, and dancing the night away. And if you weren’t really feeling the glamour, the both of you would stay cuddled up against one another whilst watching some cliche rom-com. It was like a dream. It was perfect…well, almost. 

The very source of your concerns was the golden band that remained in Lucifer’s ring-finger. 

You knew about the heart-break and torment that Lucifer underwent following his separation with Lilith. Understandably, having been together for many decades and centuries, the King had a difficult time trying to move on. Even in the earlier stages of your relationship, when he had been comfortable confiding in you, it was evident that he still deeply cared for Lilith, despite her absence. 

You tried to be understanding – you really, really did. But every time you held his hand, the cold metal feeling against your fingers set a painful reminder that maybe he still hasn’t moved on completely. 

It filled you to the brim with self-doubt. Perhaps he was just keeping you around just to fill in the void she had left. And if that were the case, were you even doing a good enough job in that? Hypothetically, if Lilith were to waltz in front of the hotel’s doors one day, was he going to throw you off to the side and run away with her? What if he’d grow bored of you all of a sudden?

Questions such as these would linger at the back of your head constantly, and as they did, you would cast a longing gaze in his direction. When he catches your eye, he would automatically send a smile your way, pearly-whites in full display. It would make you smile without fail, because how could it not? You loved that dashing smile of his. But everyday, you wondered if you could continue to maintain that smile in your life. 

One night in particular, during dinner at one of Hell’s finest establishments, Lucifer noticed that something was off. Your smile hasn’t been reaching your eyes, and you seemed like you were anywhere but here. Your eyes had a distant look to them and whenever he’d ask if something was wrong, you would become dismissive. It concerned him a lot. 

“Darling, are you alright?” Lucifer carefully asked once you both made it to the front porch of the hotel. “Was it the food? Was it not to your liking? Because the chicken was a bit off to be honest, it could’ve been a bit more seasoned–” 

“Luci,” you intervened and grabbed his hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “The food was great, really. It’s just…” As your voice trailed off, you were quick to feel that damn ring around his finger. Because, of course you did, and it didn’t help your mood at all. You force out a huff and pull away, causing the demon’s frown to deepen, “I’m feeling a little under the weather tonight – probably just lacking a bit of sleep.” 

Lucifer scanned your face all over, his brows furrowed in worry. “Well…I guess you have been working harder for the hotel recently.” There had been some truth in that – after all, there had been an influx of sinners in the hotel since the cancellation of this year’s extermination. But he didn’t seem to stop there, not fully convinced by your reasoning, “...But are you sure that’s all, my dear?” 

You looked at him, surprised, as if suddenly caught red-handed. He was quick to pick up on that too, confirming his suspicions and making him all the more nervous.

 “What are you trying to say?” You ask. 

“Well, i-it’s just that I noticed that you’ve been acting a bit off recently,” he splutters. “And not only tonight. You’ve become a bit more…I don’t know, distant with me. And it worries me, y’know? I just…I really, really care about you. A lot.” He almost looks defeated as he rubs anxiously at his nape, “And if I’m being honest, it scares the absolute shit out of me that what I’m doing now isn't right."

Your brows crease in confusion, “...What are you talking about?” 

Lucifer closed his eyes, dragging a palm against his face as an exaggerated groan leaves his lips. “Look, I’m not exactly experienced with all…all this – the one woman I’ve ever been in a committed relationship with left me. Just like that!” He lets out a humourless snort. “A-And I don’t know what I did to make her leave and I for sure don’t want to make that same mistake again. I…I want to be assured that I’m making you happy.” 

Lucifer looks up at you, eyes filled with warmth, as he places a gentle hand against your cheek. He breaks the distance between you to press his forehead against yours. You automatically lean against him out of habit. “I don’t want to lose you. And if I’m doing something wrong, tell me. Please, don’t shut me out.” He pleads, his voice almost falling into a whisper. The unexpected confession left you speechless, your chest feeling all the more tight. It was making you feel worse than you already did. 

You let out a shaky sigh, trying to keep the pending tears at bay. “Luci, I’m sorry. I didn’t know…I-I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Trust me when I say that you’ve been nothing more than a gentleman, and every moment we’ve spent together has been magical. I appreciate you so, so much, and I could never, ever ask for anything more.” 

You shut your eyes tight, shame filling your very core. “I’m just being a little silly–”

“No, no. Don’t say that, darling. Please tell me what’s going on. It’s okay,” Lucifer encourages softly, his thumb rubbing reassuringly against your cheek. 

You grab his wrist and gently pull your face away from him. With the hand on his arm, you slide it down to grab at his own, bringing it up into view and in-between the both of you. Almost instantaneously, both your eyes lie on the golden band on his finger – to Lucifer, it suddenly clicks. But he couldn’t help but feel an internal conflict brew within him. 

“I-I know how much that ring and Lilith means to you. I really do and I feel awful having to feel this way, but I just…I can’t help it,” you mutter, finally allowing the first couple of tears to fall, “I-I often find myself counting the days and hours when you’ll suddenly realise that I will never be good enough for you. It feels like I’m constantly having to compete with her–heck, what am I even saying? I know I’ll never be able to compete – because, I mean, come on. I'm a nobody!” You chuckle tearfully whilst gesturing to yourself with a free hand.

“And I don’t think I’ll ever understand how you’d ever settle for someone like me. I’m not nearly as important, nor am I the best-looking demon out there. I’m just me.”

“But Lucifer, whenever I’m with you, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. I smile more. Laugh more. I even enjoy the little things more. And I don’t want that to go away. And I’m just hoping– Satan, I’m fucking hoping that it’s the same for you. And if it is, then how long is that going to last with me?” 

Completely shocked, Lucifer watched in silence as his love sobbed their heart out in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to go and wrap you in his warm embrace, and whisper reassurances and hush down your cries. Because, you were right – you did make him happy. So unbelievably happy. You had been the light that casted away the shadows in his darkest times. And yet, why? Why did he remain where he stood, unmoving as tears pathetically poured from his eyes? Why wasn’t he saying anything?

There was a brief, stagnant moment of contemplation where the both of you just stood there. It was the realisation that Lucifer didn’t make any effort to formulate some form of response, that disappointed you even further. It only made the doubtful voice in your head louder. 

It was you who ultimately decided to make the first move, wiping tiredly at your reddened face as you glanced at the hotel’s door. “I’ll be heading off first. I’ll be in the guest room tonight – it’s been a long day,” you raspily say, hiccuping as you pushed through the doors and disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lucifer alone outside. 

As you entered the hotel, you immediately noticed Husk’s presence by the bar, who had been polishing some glasses by the counter. In front of him was Angel, who was making some sweet, small talk with him. They were both alerted by your entrance as the doors flew open, and as Angel was about to greet you in his usual playful fashion, his voice fell flat when he saw the depressed state you were in. 

“Woah, there. What the hell happened to you? You look like shit,” Angel asked, standing to meet you half-way, “I thought you and Short-King were out on a date. Did something happen?” 

“We were but we had a fight or something,” you tiredly shrugged as you walked past the arachnid and plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools. You swirled yourself on the seat to face Husk. “Give me the strongest shit you have. And make it double,” you waved absently at the feline-demon, who raised an incredulous brow at your bluntness. “Damn, it must be that serious considering you don’t even drink,” he grumbles as he turns to start brewing a glass of something, “...do you wanna talk about it?"

You contemplated his offer for a second and realised that you did. For the next five or so minutes, you ended up recounting everything that happened earlier tonight, all the while shedding even more tears. Angel was kind enough to supply you with a mountain of tissues to cry into.

“Well, it sounds to me that your man’s got a whole lot of thinking to do,” Husk clicks his tongue. “But what you’re feeling is completely valid.” “Yeah, who the fuck wears their ol’ wedding ring while dating someone else? What an asshole,” Angel hisses. 

“S-So you guys think there’s a possibility that he might consider ending things with me?” You question dejectedly. Husk and Angel share a look of uncertainty, suddenly feeling the need to be careful of their words. Because they genuinely weren’t sure.

“I–Look, that’s not something we should be focusing on at the moment– I mean, of course, let’s hope that that’s not where this is going. I just think he needs some space to think things through properly,” Husk says. 

“And I know I was talking a whole lot of shit before but let’s take the benefit of the doubt and look at things from his point of view. He was in that boat for more than a couple thousand years. And shit, that’s a lot of fucking years.” Angel points out. “It might take him a while longer to adjust to that, y’know?” Angel places a hand on your shoulder, grinning at you reassuringly, “But there’s one thing for sure that myself and everyone else knows: the guy loves yah, toots. Anyone with eyes can see it, and you guys are really fucking disgusting about it too–ow!” 

Angel suddenly lunges forward against the counter as one of Husk’s wings swipes down to slap the back of his head. “‘The fuck was that for?! It’s true, ain’t it?!” Husk rolled his eyes at his dramatics, before turning back to you. “He’s right, though. Just…just give him a bit more time. I’m sure in the end, the both of you will be fine.” 

Meanwhile, Lucifer decided to head back to his own castle, wanting to be alone to sort through his cluttered thoughts. He was beyond upset with himself for making you cry like that, because it was the last thing he wanted. But he was more upset at the fact that he didn’t know how to navigate through his emotions, despising that he found himself second guessing his feelings. 

As you explicitly implied, was he really still unconsciously longing for Lilith? Was that why he kept wearing his ring? Why was he still wearing it? Was it just for his own comfort? But why would he need it anyways? You were there, weren’t you? All he had said to you tonight, he was contradicting himself, wasn’t he? Perhaps he’s scared. Maybe he isn’t ready yet. But, why would he be with you if he didn’t think so? What exactly were you to him? And what exactly was Lilith to him now?

Lucifer was a complete mess, and that night he couldn’t find a single blink of sleep as these thoughts plagued him. And neither could you, as you scrutinised every aspect of your relationship, thinking of what this could mean for the both of you, moving forward.

Yeah…perhaps you both needed some time. 

Chapter II [x]

#lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

[sturnioz]

‘DRIVERS PLEASURE’ — MATTHEW STURNIOLO

pairing. matthew sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 2.2k

❝do you want me to help you with that?❞

content warnings. established relationship, explicit content, car head, oral (m receiving), blowjob, handjob, small mention of spitting, mention of hair pulling, possible exhibitionism,

You sigh softly as you glance at your reflection in the sun visor mirror of your boyfriends car, fingertips grazing the corner of your lips, erasing any excess lipstick that may have smeared during the ride and that your mascara hasn’t left any smudges on your eyelids.

You rushed when Matt had suddenly asked you out on a last-minute date and you were more than desperate to see him, having not been alone with him for a long period of time due to his busy schedule.

You had rapidly searched around your bedroom for the most suitable and clean clothing you could find, and hastily applied your makeup, your eagerness to finally see him overshadowed any concerns about your appearance until you you were parked outside the restaurant with just a few minutes remaining before you had to make it inside for your dinner reservation.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure I look okay,” You tell him, adjusting the strands of hair framing your face. Your shoulders slump in defeat as you continue, “I don’t feel okay.”

Matt raises his eyebrow as he asks, “Why?”

“I rushed to get ready before you picked me up, so my makeup is all messy, and my outfit looks silly, and—”

“No, it doesn’t,” Matt interrupts your rambling, a gentle smile creeping onto his face as he gazes at you from the driver's seat. “I think you look pretty. Really pretty,” You side eye him sceptically, but Matt chuckles, his teeth gently biting down on his bottom lip as he widens his smile. “No, seriously, I mean it… you look beautiful.”

Your head turns towards him and your heart swells at his compliment. The adoration and affection reflected in Matt’s eyes is enough to make you a little overwhelmed and without hesitation, you lean over the console and cup his face, pressing your lips against his.

Matt’s surprised exclamation is muffled by the kiss, caught off guard as he didn’t expect you to kiss him so suddenly, but he allows himself to melt into your touch. His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he closes his eyes, tilting his head to deepen the kiss with more love and urgency. 

Every kiss you share with Matt feels like the first, sweet and tender. His lips on yours leaves you feeling dizzy as if you’re intoxicated, and you yearn for more, yet it never escalates beyond heavy make-out sessions with wandering hands that fail to explore beneath the clothes. 

Surprisingly, you don’t really mind. You didn’t want to push or rush into something that might ruin what you have with Matt. The relationship is still new, having only become official a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to rush into anything… However, there are moments when you crave for him. Badly. 

As always, you’re the one to break away from the kiss and an amused chuckle leaves you as Matt follows your lips, his own still puckered and waiting for you to return. Giving him one quick kiss, you suggest that it’s probably best for you both to go wait inside, unfastening your seatbelt and preparing to leave until Matt’s voice echoes throughout the vehicle. 

“Wait!”

His raised tone startles you and you jump as his hand extends out, firmly grasping your wrist to prevent you from opening the car door. Your movements freeze, and you gaze at him with concern swimming in your eyes, unsure of what’s happening and why he’s reacting in such a certain way.

You notice the pink hue tinting his cheeks and the flush that spreads across his neck, chest rising and falling rapidly with each heavy breath he takes. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of what, and under different circumstances, the sight would’ve been hilarious. However, you were too worried about his sudden outburst to laugh.

Matt struggles to form a coherent sentence, and the grip his fingers have on your wrist tightens as he lowers his head to look down at his lap. Your gaze follows, and your eyes widen when you see the obvious tent in his pants.

Your hand rips free out of Matt’s grip as you slap it over your mouth, trying to stifle your laughter which makes Matt’s cheeks grow even more red.

“Wa—wait, I just—It’s like—” Matt stammers, his hands flailing in the air in a panicked manner before he hastily grabs the hem of his shirt, tugging it down to cover the bulge, avoiding direct eye contact with you. “Shut up. Stop. I have no control over that—”

“Matt, it’s okay.” You reassure him as your hand drops from your mouth, unable to hide the smile on your face. Truthfully, you’re a little flattered that a simple kiss can make Matt react like that. It boosts your ego immensely, and the thoughts that run through your mind are wild.

He continues to act embarrassed, tugging his shirt down further to hide himself but the friction of the shirt rubbing over the material of his jeans makes him tense up, eyes widening as a stifled grunt seeps past his lips. 

“Matt…” You call out his name and his head turns to finally meet your eyes. You feel confident, maybe too confident as you say your next words, “Do you want me to help you?"

“Help me?” He repeats, blinking at you. “What do you—Oh. Wait. No. I swear, it’s fine. Just give me a few minutes and it’ll—oh shit.”

Matt curses, hissing through his teeth as you decide to bravely place your hand on his upper thigh, squeezing the skin beneath your fingers as you lean in closer to him, the centre console digging into the stomach. His gaze flicks between your hand and you advancing towards him, unsure on where to look until your nose is barely brushing against his own.

He swallows thickly at that look on your face, silently asking him the same question again and he struggles to find his voice, bobbing his head slowly in a short nod. He lets go of his shirt, dropping his hands to his side limply as he watches you work the button of his jeans, popping them open and pulling down the zipper before your hand dips beneath the waistband, cupping his through his boxers.

Matt exhales deeply, body relaxing into the driver's seat as he observes your actions with half-lidded eyes, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and fists clenching at his side.

You’re giddy as you free his cock from his boxers, the sheer size of them sending a thrilling buzz to your cunt and you meet his eyes with a surprised grin.

“What?” His voice is quiet as he questions, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re big, Matt.”

Matt’s tongue prods at his cheek, trying to fight off the urge to smile at your compliment as his chin tucks into his chest, unable to look you in the eyes. His cheeks grow warm with a slight pink hue, but his mouth drops open with a sharp intake of breath as you slowly wrap your fingers around him the best you can. 

Your lips hover above his cock, letting a wad of spit sit at the tip and using your thumb to smear it over the slit and head of his cock, causing his hips to jerk upwards.

The sound of him whispering curses through airy gasps and grunts is enough to urge you downwards, taking his tip into your mouth, letting it lay on your tongue for an experimental taste before pushing your head further down, taking his cock into your throat and swallowing around him.

“Oh my go—fuck.” Matt suddenly whimpers loudly, pressing his fist to his mouth and biting down on his skin, nervous eyes glancing around the restaurant's parking lot to see if anyone was lingering around outside.

He was thankful to have brought you both out near nightfall, but he was even more thankful that he had decided to park a few spaces away from the building itself, tucked away beneath a tree and barely any street lights

You struggle not to smile at the effect you have on him as your bob your head, exaggeratingly moaning to send vibrations down his cock and again, his hips jerk upwards at the sensation, and a guttural sound rips from the back of your throat as he accidentally chokes you with his sudden movements. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” He repeatedly apologises to you, his hand coming down to affectionately smooth the back of your head, ringed fingers getting tangled in your hair and he tugs without realising when you hollow your cheeks around him, the burn on your scalp sending a shiver down your spine.

“Does it feel good?” You ask him once you take your mouth off of him to breathe, using your hand to continue jerking him off as you gaze up at him.

Matt struggles to keep his eyes open as he nods, untangling his fingers out of his hair to press his palm on your cheek, putting at your bottom lip and you lay a gentle kiss on the pad of his thumb.

Matt smiles giddily at that, head lolling to the side and resting against the fogged up windows, breathing unsteady as he continues watching.

It completely erased from your mind that you’re currently giving Matt head in a public parking lot until you hear a distant car horn in the background, and usually, under any different circumstance, you would have stopped everything and asked to be driven away out of pure embarrassment from possibly getting caught.

But seeing the blissful look on Matt’s face, and how strangely nice it feels to have him in your throat, tasting him on your tongue, you don’t care. 

You almost wouldn’t mind if anyone walked by and caught the two of you in this position. 

“I think I’m gonna cum soon,” Matt breathes out heavily before his eyes widen. “Yeah, no—shit—you’re definitely gonna make me cum.”

“That’s okay.” You coo softly, giving him the sweetest smile before you swallow around him once again, tightening your throat around his cock and he grunts, his hand resuming its position on the top of your head again.

“Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?” The pet name sends you spiralling and your cunt clenches around nothing, arousal building in the pit of your stomach. 

You move your head faster, working at a pace that has his thighs shaking. His cock fucks your throat raw and you can breifly hear him calling out your name, tugging at your hair slightly to get your attention and pull you off of him, but you resist and shove your head down further, the tip of your nose touching his navel.

“Fuck… do you want me to cum in your mouth?”

You hum around him for confirmation and Matt whines under his breath, voicing ‘you’re so hot’ as his hand falls from the top of your head to your free hand that’s resting on his knee for balance. 

His fingers thread through your own, intertwining them tightly, thumb caressing over your knuckles in small circles, and the second you squeeze his hand back, to let him know that you’ve got him, he cums in thick spurts down your throat with a moan.

Matt’s thighs trembling beneath you, but you take no notice, too busy making sure you’ve swallowed every drop he’s giving you, sucking him dry until he’s physically unable to give you anymore and is begging for you to release him, too sensitive to continue.

His cock falls from your mouth with a wet plop and you sit up in your seat, taking a quick glance in the sun visor mirror like you had done earlier before, and you stifle a laugh at how you’ve definitely ruined your makeup this time.

You reach for your purse and open it up, grabbing a few facial makeup wipes that you carry with you and try to clean yourself up as best as you possibly can, even though there was no use. 

Matt is panting heavily beside you, body twitching as he comes down from his high and he runs his fingers through his hair as he tries to regulate his breathing before he’s tucking his flaccid cock back into his boxers.

He’s buttoning up his jeans, casting you a glance as he pulls up the zipper, watching as you finish completely wiping the smudged lipstick off of your lips and dabbing the mascara excess under your eyes.

“I think we missed our dinner reservation by the way,” You joke, a chuckle leaving your lips as you grab your phone to check the time. You did miss it. “Sorry.”

“That’s a shame,” Matt says, his voice dipping low. “I’m still hungry.”

You feel a little guilty, “We can go get takeout—”

“No. Not for that,” Matt immediately shakes his head and you turn to look at him. “I’m hungry for something else. Something better.”

“Better?” You repeat, raising your eyebrow suggestively as you lean back into your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as the corner of your lips threaten to curl up into a smirk. “And what would that be?”

“You.”

© sturnioz

#©sturnioz #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets smut

[fayes-fics]

Mirror, Mirror

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: When Benedict's wife tries on his clothes, things happen...

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, cross-dressing, clothing kink, light biting, breast play, a smidge of intercrural sex, very mild exhibitionism, mirror sex, vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.2k

Authors Note: Request fill for @d-caryophyllus (HERE) about Benedict being aroused by his wife dressing up in his clothing. I hope this fits what you were hoping for, my dear. Thanks as ever to @colettebronte for the beta read. Yes, the title is a nod to Season 3, lol. Err, enjoy! <3

It’s early in the morning on a mundane Thursday when a somewhat daring idea forms in your mind. 

Fresh out of your morning bath, you dismiss your maid quietly when usually she would assist you with dressing for the day. As the double doors click closed discreetly behind her, you glance through the open archway into your bedroom; heavy curtains still drawn there, obscuring the sunlight. In the darkness, you can just decipher the outline of your husband sleeping soundly after a late night of carousing with his brothers.

With a little secret smile, you decide that, yes, now is the perfect time. He is asleep, and you have a few hours to spare until your first social engagement - a ladies' luncheon - so why not use the time to satisfy your curiosity?

You stride to your husband's side of the dressing room, opening his wardrobe doors and running your fingers over the items within—a symphony of wools, silks and cotton, all luxurious to the touch. While he is arguably one of the more flamboyantly dressed men of the Ton, with eye-catching jewel-toned waistcoats and colourful cravats, the basics of his outfit are mostly the same every time: dark trousers and a white shirt. A large part of you is envious of that easier choice. Sometimes, it feels like a veritable minefield being a woman during the social season, the looming threat of an unintended fashion faux pas simply by wearing the wrong colour to the wrong event.

Upon a chair, you spy the outfit he discarded when he came home in the early hours, not yet tidied away by your staff. You decide this shall be your choice, a frisson that they are already worn.

Dropping your bathrobe from your shoulders, you grab the pair of his trousers and pull them on. The finely woven wool feels plush on your skin, and there is an undeniable novelty in having fabric between your thighs. They are, however, almost comically long for you, and you have to bend to roll them up a few times around your ankles. Bemused, you briefly catch sight of your reflection in the full-length dressing room mirror, topless in oversized trousers. 

You snatch his white shirt and pull it on, pausing to tug the ruffled lapels up to your face and inhale deeply, enjoying the flood of scent there. His woodsy citrus cologne, yes, but also that undercurrent that is all him. That tang you cannot help but bury your face into, be it upon his pillow when he is away or his body while you cling to him, moving together in ecstasy. 

You fasten a few buttons, then tuck the shirt into the trousers and loop the braces hanging loose around your hips up onto your shoulders, once again inspecting your reflection in the mirror with a wry smile, twisting this way and that, admiring how different you look dressed in his clothing.

“Wife, what are you doing?” 

You almost jump out of your skin as that velvet tone, slightly roughened by sleep, calls out from across the room. You twist to see Benedict leaning casually upon the archway into the dressing room, shooting you a look that is pure menacing intrigue while looking like sin himself—all riotous bedhead, and, as your eyes slip further down, gloriously naked. It makes you swallow hard.

“I… I was trying on your clothes,” you stumble sheepishly, a blush creeping over your cheeks being caught doing something perhaps rather bizarre. 

“Any reason?” he queries, bemused, that crooked smile claiming his features.

“They just seem so much more practical and comfortable—especially trousers. I would like to wear such things…” you confess, turning back to the mirror to appraise your appearance again, watching him prowl towards you in the reflection. “Are… are you vexed with me, husband? For taking such liberties?” Your words petering out, mildly abashed.

A large, warm hand wraps around your shoulder, yanking you back almost roughly, making you gasp as your shoulder blades collide with his chest.

“The precise opposite,” he rumbles, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, a sudden burning intensity that makes your lungs feel tight. 

Long fingers spider down his brocade brace, draped down your chest, lingering where the strap rests over your nipple, swiping his thumb in a deliberate tease, his face triumphant as you swoon back into him from just this simple touch. 

“My clothes look much better upon you than me,” he opines duskily, his lips tracing your temple as his fingertips push the brace aside to capture your nipple through the thin cotton shirt, making you inhale sharply. “Perhaps we should attend a party with you dressed like this?”

“That would be a scandal!” 

There is a vault in your stomach at the idea of attending a social event dressed in his clothes, even as you melt under his questing touch.

“Not in the more… bohemian… circles that I know of…” he contends; his breath is a warm gust in your ear as his other hand does the same, fondling both nipples now.

He waits until you meet his gaze in the mirror again, then lowers his lips to your neck and bites gently. His incisors a faint scrape, immediately soothed by a wide, wet lathe of his tongue. A little crest of victory as something sizeable stirs against the cleft of your bottom. 

“If I were dressed as you, then what would you wear, husband?” 

“Whatever you would like, my darling,” he offers between soft, damp kisses, a tingle running up your neck from his lips to the top of your scalp. “I could wear your clothing should you wish it. Or perhaps just your corset and underwear?” He nuzzles into you, taking a deep breath. “Our little secret…”

Something about his tone, the images he concocts, makes your blood run warm, your hand reaching up and diving into his luscious hair, tugging gently upon his roots so again he feels compelled to use his teeth, a groan bubbling up from within as he does. With a flick of his wrists, the braces fall from your shoulders, and he cups your breasts through his thin cotton shirt. It makes you sigh his name, asking for more, arousal coursing thickly through your veins—a yen to be taken right away. 

“The thought arouses you, does it not?” he correctly surmises, trailing his touch down over the shirt, brushing your ribs and belly to the fastening on the trousers, making short work of the buttons.

You nod demurely, biting your lip as you watch his dextrous hands in the mirror, his arms encircling you; it is almost as if he is removing them from himself. The air feels heady as he pushes the loosened fabric from around your frame, and it hits the rug with an audible thump.

Standing before him in just his ruffled white shirt with only a few buttons fastened, you feel his weighted stare in the mirror, lingering on the patch of hair at the apex of your thighs peeking out between the shirt sides.

“I shall prefer you keep this on…” he asserts, popping open a button over your chest so the fabric opens enough for him to slide a hand inside, tweaking your nipple and pulling you back into his frame, rutting his now solid cock against your bottom.

You turn your head to press your lips to his, imploring for more of his touch in a fervent whisper before seeking a kiss. His mouth is hot on yours, rolling his tongue with yours, endless caresses of your breasts as you burn so hot you rub your thighs together in delicious anticipation of more, already more than ready for him, your clit pulsing with each tease of his tongue.

“Here?”

You know what he is asking—if you wish to have sex right where you stand, in front of your dressing mirror, his shirt loose around your body, him naked behind you.

“Yes. Yes please…” you murmur into his mouth, rolling your body against him, telegraphing unmistakable need.

“The window is open,” he points out with a smirk, nodding towards a high window that allows in light to the dressing room but affords you not to be seen; it is open this morning to let in the summer breeze. “What if we are heard?”

“I care not,” you confess, exhaling jaggedly, knowing he likes you in this state, desperate and debauched, uncaring if you may be overheard in your pursuit of pleasure. 

Rubbing yourself upon him akin to a feline in heat, moving so his cock passes teasingly between your thighs now as you writhe. He groans and tells you not to stop, hissing his approval. So you squeeze your legs together tightly, allowing him to rut between them, the pass of his cock glancing maddeningly over your engorged clit.

His touch becomes heavier, hands mapping your body as his hips surge, and you see the red, weeping tip of his cock emerging and disappearing in the mirror, an intoxicating sight. You moan lightly with every pass, a tantalising swipe, not enough to bring you real pleasure, just notching your want higher.

He finally takes pity upon you, angling his hips differently and driving into you; you, moaning at the invasion so deep and encompassing, rocked up onto your tiptoes. Every time he has entered your body, it's always the same: a force that steals your breath and makes your eyes roll. His hands are a firm grip around your waist as he withdraws slowly back, then surges in again, capturing your earlobe in his teeth as he does.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, you idly wonder how many other wives are watching themselves being fucked by a handsome husband like this; a bright weekday morning, birdsong wafting in on the scented breeze, body wrapped only in his shirt. You suspect none are quite so lucky.

You moan his name and arch back against him, wrapping your hands around his neck and watching yourself being taken, relying on him to keep your stance steady as he starts to fuck into you in earnest, large hands sliding up to cup your breasts, engulfing them in his warm palms.

Unable to stop the noises you make, each pass hitting all the spots inside that make your toes curl into the thick pile of the rug beneath your feet, your pussy clenching around his invasion, making him growl and move faster, taking you harsher, an onslaught that is as pleasurable as it is powerful.

His mouth is a breathy litany of praise into your cheekbone, your eyes fluttering closed to focus on the carnal moment - the sweat, the skin, the ragged breaths, the meeting of your bodies so primal and glorious, but he has other ideas.

“Look at yourself,” he purrs dulcetly, your eyes reopening to do as he asks, to watch this unrestrained moment of passion, to see the little marks blooming on your body from where his fingers dig into your flesh as he pounds into you now, a flourish of colour on your neck from his thorough attention.

You plead for more throatily, pushing back as best you can against his thrusts, wanting him to make you scream, uncaring of any audience inside or outside your townhouse, only craving the sweet, blissful release he always provides.

Abruptly, he wrenches open the shirt you wear, one button pinging forward and tinking against the mirror before skittering across the floor, your naked body framed by his crisp white shirt, the ruffled lapels tickling the sides of your breasts, catching sight of his handsome face in the mirror contorted in a passionate tempest.

Then one hand slides down your front, you feeling it rippling in your belly and seeing it in your reflection before you until those fingers slide between your legs and hook over your clit with a force that steals the air from your lungs, a sharp stab of pleasure that makes your knees buckle, him pausing in his motions briefly to brace your weight, keep you upright.

Then it is a blur as he restarts his motion, his fingers dance on your swollen pearl, slipping silkily over his touch as he grunts encouragements. It feels like you are circling for so long, so close to something mind-blowing, but then he flicks harshly with his fingernail and bites your neck, and you are hurtling. Everything is loud and quiet at once, no doubt your voice calling his name as you tumble over the edge, clenching hard around him as your whole body shatters and rebuilds in a blissful puzzle. Dimly, as you float, you feel his entire body tense, and with a roar, he follows you over, a warmth blooming inside you as he reaches completion. 

There are a few moments of panted breaths as you both recover from the intensity before he spins you around and sweeps you into his arms, carrying you back to bed. There, he lays you down gently and proceeds to turn you into a molten, quivering pile, mapping your body with his lips and fingers until you are begging for him again, which he more than obliges. So much so you are almost late for your social engagement.

If there are a few derogatory looks as you swan into the ladies' luncheon with a blissful smile and a burgeoning mark on your neck from your husband's amorous intentions, well, so be it. You wouldn't change it for the world.

And it is also most definitely not the last time you dress up in his clothes…

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton imagine #1k notes #2k notes

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Hellbound Angel

Male Yandere Demon x Male Angel Reader (CW: Noncon, drugged reader, drugged sex, drug-like cum, drug-like saliva, big ol' horse cock, literally equine dick, belly bulge, armpit kink, scent kink, musk, underwear sniffing, kidnapping, general yandere behavior, temporarily mind-broken reader, religious themes, dehydration, forced feminization, reader has minor injuries not inflicted by yandere) Word Count: 2.2k

In the never-ending war against the legions of Hell, the middle ground where most of the fighting was done was on Earth. However, the heavenly forces sometimes deemed an incursion into Hell necessary.

You had been sent on a mission to scout ahead and take note of the coming forces.

Angels were stronger than most demons. Even so, almost your entire squad had been wiped out in a bloody ambush. The other survivors had used the one holy recall scroll to teleport themselves back to heaven.

Each squad sent into Hell is given one and only one. They probably thought you were dead already when they left still with demons in pursuit. They had to act quickly. You didn't blame them. Without it, you were trapped here. Unless you could find a demon's gate that could take you to Earth. That's how the demons made it out. But there would certainly be legions of the enemy at such places.

You had managed to escape the slaughter of your scouting party, but you were injured. Your wings had been hurt as had your leg. Relatively minor injuries, but in a hostile land, they certainly made things more difficult.

To be honest, you weren't exactly the strongest angel on a good day. This was not a good day.

You limped along the rocky landscape, using your holy staff as a walking stick. You stayed low to remain unseen by any wandering beasts or demons as you made your way out of the fiery wastelands and into the white sand desert. Hell wasn't all fire and brimstone. It was the most popular depiction of Hell's most dramatic landscape, but there were other biomes, too. Now you were getting into one of the many deserts Hell had to offer.

It was cooler than the burning wastes, but by no means was it comfortable. Water and food were scarce, the white sands were nearly blinding, and the swirling black sky was a constant ominous reminder that you were not safe.

You could go a long time without food and water. You wouldn't die without them, but after a while, you would wither up and be unable to move. You'd go into a kind of stasis. And then you'd be defenseless.

For days, you wandered. At least... you thought it was days. Despite the perpetually black sky the sun never set. Your lips were chapped, your wounds aching, hope dying in your heart. You had to find an oasis to rest at. Build up your strength. From the limited maps you had seen of this region of Hell there should be one at the heart of this desert, but with your wings and legs messed up it would still take many days still to reach it.

There were several more days of endless marching, hobbling on your injured leg that was getting harder and harder to walk on before you finally saw the oasis in the distance. You tried your best to approach stealthily, going behind dunes and sand drifts whenever possible, and wrapping your white wings around you to provide some measure of camouflage with the white sands. As you got near, it disappeared in a puff of smoke. And out of the smoke stood a demon. It was a trap.

Dark brownish red skin, sharp horns, a tail flicking back and forth, and he stood at least a foot taller than you. He was very muscular, his sweat coated abs glistened in the sunlight. He wore nothing. His long horse-like cock and big nuts swinging freely below a thick patch of black pubic hair.

You caught yourself accidentally staring and looked away quickly before readying your divine staff for a fight. Which was really hard, since you could barely stand without it.

The demon winked and chuckled.

"Do you like it~ There's no harm in just looking, you know?"

He closed the distance between the two of you in a flash and knocked the staff away in one fluid motion.

"As a matter of fact, you can do a lot more than look, little bird. My cum would make you feel so much better~ That oasis you're looking for is still miles away."

"Uh, thanks for the kind offer, but I think I will pass. I'll just be on my way and out of your hair."

You stepped back slowly, hoping to make it to your staff so you could maybe limp away and give him a good smack if he followed. But he wasn't giving you the chance.

"Oh, but you're dehydrated!"

He took a few steps forward until there were mere inches between you. He put a hand on your cheek and thumbed at your chapped lips gently.

"Your lips are all dry. Let me help~"

Before you could decline, he held your head in place and leaned down. He traced and prodded your sore lips with his long slick tongue.

You tried to push him away but couldn't do much in your current condition. And the saliva was having some kind of effect on you.

He slipped his tongue past your lips and kissed you greedily.

Your head grew fuzzy and your legs weak. His spit was some type of drug. It felt... nice...

You resisted it as long as you could, even resorting to biting his tongue, but he ignored it and continued. Moments later, you slumped against him, your head on his muscular chest. The only thought in your head as you passed out was how nice this man in front of you smelled.

He picked you up gently and carried you bridal style. It was fitting since you were certainly his little bride now, as far as he was concerned. He placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head and then started walking towards the underground dwelling he called home.

When you woke up, your wounds had been healed, and you felt a lot better. Though you were still dizzy. There was an intoxicating smell all around you and you didn't recognize your surroundings.

Your first instinct was to jump up and flee, but you were immediately pulled back down and placed in the lap of your demonic captor. His monstrous cock poking out between your thighs.

You looked down and realized you were naked, your soft cock and balls laying on his unnaturally warm prick.

"Let me go!" You elbowed him as hard as you could but he must have made sure you stayed drugged because you couldn't muster up any strength to put into your struggle.

"Let you go? After all the trouble I have gone through to romance you?"

"Romance!? You kidnapped me and I don't even know who the fuck you are, creep!!"

You struggled with renewed anger, smacking your head backwards, elbowing, kicking, and scratching. All amounting to you gasping for breath, tired, while he chuckled at the attempt.

"You're in Hell! I could have raped you and left you in the sand to be killed by any passing monster and that still would have been considered romance."

He placed his large hands on your legs with his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your thighs.

"I saved you from the desert, treated your wounds, let you rest for days, fed you, gave you water, and bathed you. That is damn romantic!"

He started assaulting your neck with little licks and kisses, enjoying how you squirmed in protest while sitting on his equine cock.

"As for the name that you'll be moaning when I bury myself in you, it's Tevrik."

"My friends will come back for me. You should save yourself the trouble and let me go now!"

This was a bluff, of course. They almost certainly thought you were dead. You didn't know if your deception would work, but you didn't expect him to respond with a cackle.

"No, they won't! Rathiel won't let em!"

A shudder went through you at the mention of your boss who had ordered the mission into Hell.

"He's one of Hell's best agents. Gives us lots of intel."

You were dumbfounded and fell silent a moment before regaining your composure and replying angrily.

"Lies from a worthless demon!"

"I'd never lie to you, sweetie~"

He trailed his hands up and down your thighs as he continued.

"How else did we set up that ambush? Rathiel sent you to us. We needed more angel blood. But not yours."

Your blood ran cold as he began grinding into you.

"I picked you out from a bunch of employee profiles just to be my little princess. I'm half angel myself and wanted an angel bride~ We'll rule this region of Hell together!"

He repositioned you on his lap to face towards him as his flared cock grew fully erect.

"You weren't supposed to be hurt in the battle. I'm so sorry about that. I killed the demons who did it."

You didn't even struggle when he positioned you above his dick, hot precum smearing your hole as his cock pressed against it. The betrayal drained the fight from you.

"After the battle, I just followed you for a bit, so you'd be tired. And now here you are. With me."

The precum and smell of his arousal were making you dizzier. The words he spoke brought tears from your eyes.

"Awe, don't cry. After we have some alone time to adjust, I'll take you to the palace~ You'll be royalty!"

You winced as his cock entered you, expecting pain. Surprisingly, there was none. Instead it was like every cell in your body was filled with pleasure.

This couldn't be right. You had to escape. Sex with a demon was a very taboo thing.

You started struggling but Tevrik held you still.

"Shhh, I know you're upset. But just let it happen, okay? I'll make you feel so good."

As his precum continued to dribble out of his dick and into you and as the betrayal by your trusted higher up sank in you once more lost the will to fight.

Why were you fighting anyway? This cock felt so nice. And he was so kind and romantic to go through all this trouble to get you away from your evil boss right?

You relaxed and lay against his chest as he pumped into you slowly. You looked up at him and realized he had your underwear in his hand and was holding it up to his nose sniffing the crotch.

"You smell so good, girly. So good. You feel good too."

"You smell nice too!" Then your brain caught up with the rest of what he had said.

"A-and I'm not a g-girl." Too focused on your pleasure to really care.

"Nah, you're too pretty to be a man. Too weak too. Plus you have this tight little cunt hugging my dick. You're definitely a girly~"

"O-okay."

You blushed because he called you pretty. You supposed he made a lot of sense. You were clearly a girl. You wondered why you didn't know that sooner. It felt right.

He chuckled warmly as you drooled on his chest and made cute little gasps and moans. He couldn't wait until you were moaning his name.

Tevrik didn't pound you, he didn't want to hurt his sweet baby bird. Instead he just rocked his hips into you and enjoyed the effect it had on you.

After you started making those delicious noises his demonic precum began to make you super cuddly. He continued to breed your tight hole while you started nuzzling him and leaving gentle kisses on his chest. He began grinding into you a bit faster and more forcefully, his cock clearly outlined through your belly as it nestled into you as deeply as he could get it.

"Fuck babe, I'm about to bust."

But you came before he did it. Your cock spilling silvery angelic seed on his belly as you called his name and clung to him tightly. The combined sight of you cumming while impaled by his dick while at the same time calling his name just like you promised he would sent Tevrik over the edge. His large balls filled your tummy with hot demon cum. It made you feel warm and fluttery and loved. Like you could feel his emotions through his seed.

You were so tired from all the emotion and sex that you passed out on top of him, nuzzling your nose into the comforting scent of his armpit as you clung to him.

Tevrik smiled. You were just so precious. Sadly, he knew you'd regress back into struggling against him. But that was okay. He would keep reminding you how the angels threw you away and keep breeding you full of his drug-like semen. Soon you'd crave it. He'd bed you constantly until you needed it. And then breed you as much as you wanted him to after that.

Yeah, it would take a while. But he had all the time in the universe.

Tevrik sighed with content and closed his eyes, taking your underwear and putting it back up to his nose while he relaxed with his cock still deep inside you.

You may have been in Hell, but Tevrik was in Heaven.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #yandere monster #yandere #yandere demon #feminized male reader #yandere boyfriend #x male reader #angel reader #male yandere x male reader #my ocs #My OC Tevrik

[notafunkiller]

What if I am too much?

Summary: When Sam's girlfriend calls you clingy, you decide to give Bucky some space. What you don’t know is that he doesn’t want any space. None at all.

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, angst, teasing, language, pet names, spanking, daddy kink, metal arm kink, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 2.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I want to thank @marvelouslizzie for her help!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

“Oh, you’re alone?”

You turn your head in the direction of the voice and smile politely. You don’t recognize this woman, but she looks at you like she does.

“Uh, yes. Hello!”

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

You instantly blush, ashamed, and search for Bucky’s face in the crowd. Nowhere to be found. Damn it!

“No, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says before coming next to you. “I’m Misty.” Brunette, tall and beautiful.

“Where did we meet?”

“Sam’s birthday, but I’m not surprised you don’t remember me. You were too busy clinging to Bucky’s side all night.” She sounds serious, and you freeze, having no idea where this came from. She simply laughs, grabbing your arm with some kind of bionic cold hand for a second before letting it go.

It’s not like Bucky’s. It’s more... robotic.

“Clinging?” You ask confused.

“Yeah, you know, always sitting with him, holding his arm, following him around.”

You puff, already annoyed by this random woman. “Following him around? I’m not a dog!”

“Didn’t say you are a dog, honey. Just pointing out the obvious.”

You try to hold your tongue, pushing aside the impulse to start a fight. This is a night about Bucky. Not you or your discomfort. And she is his ex-co-worker-friend’s girlfriend. Your anger can wait.

“Alright, but how does my clinging affect you, though?”

“Oh, don’t take it so personally! I just meant to be friendly. It’s a girl’s advice. Live a little, being insecure is not gonna save your relationship.”

A piece of advice no one asked for. A take you never even considered. You’re not insecure and you’re definitely not keeping Bucky to your side all the time. You don’t… He is free to do whatever the hell he wants.

“Thank you.”

She has the audacity to laugh. “Don’t be so defensive, honey! Gonna get a cocktail, want some?”

You shake your head, feeling a hole in your stomach after she leaves you alone, and you basically run to the bathroom, trying to calm down. What if she is right, though? What if Sam heard or saw something? Maybe Bucky is extra grumpy or unhappy. Maybe he even complained…

You never thought sitting with Bucky is a sign of clinginess. You thought it’d help... he is not the most comfortable person at events. He gets stared at a lot, he hates small talk, and you really like being close to him. Gosh, you are clingy!

The rest of the night passes like a blur. When you come back, Bucky’s waiting for you, and despite your instinct to wrap your arm around his back and let him hold you, you keep a little distance, giving Sam and his nosy girlfriend a fake smile, while Bucky keeps staring at you strangely.

You even manage to avoid touching him all week somehow, except for a few kisses now and then. Your period came, and as he tried to hold you, you had to fight tears while telling him not to. You’re sick and tired and you miss him, but you want to give him some space. You’ve been suffocating him for so long... You make sure to cry only when he’s out because he might hear you even in the shower. He has super hearing after all.

You thought it would become easier every day, but quite the opposite. Every time you’re close to giving up, you remember Sam’s comment that he made a week after you met him about how Bucky always likes his space and what Misty told you, so you fight against your wish.

Until Sunday afternoon.

You’re in bed, scrolling down on Instagram as Bucky comes out of the shower. You try not to stare at him, but how can you not? He looks absolutely incredible.

What you don’t expect is him trying to get on top of you to tickle you with a huge smile on his face. He’s so adorable.

“B-Bucky, stop!” You laugh as his hands get under your T-shirt. He loves making you laugh no matter how he does it. “N-no.”

“Oh, I will,” he says playfully.

But what he failed to tell you is that stopping means sneaking his head under your T-shirt, which starts to rip a little because of the stretch, and resting it on your boobs.

“Bucky!”

He puffs, annoyed. “Why the fuck are you wearing a bra in the house, bubba?”

“Cause it’s a bra?” You ask back sarcastically, but you know this is weird. You always complain about needing to wear it outside. But inside? It’s even worse.

“Unacceptable.” He quickly rips your bra in half, not bothering to unhook it, and you feel his beard on your breast all of a sudden, making you shiver. Fuck, you really miss this.

“B-Bucky, come on, your hair is a little wet!”

“Bubba, please...”

“Bucky! Why did you do that?” He immediately takes his head out of your T-shirt, and you almost cry. He looks do lost and scared.

“Baby, do you not want me anymore?”

“What the fuck?” You groan. This is the last thing you wanted him to think. All you tried to do was to make him happy and feel less pressured.

“You don’t let me touch you. You don’t want to cuddle with me. You don’t wake me up with kisses. You don’t get on top of me You don’t hug me! What did I do?”

Your heart aches for both of you. “Wasn’t that better?”

“Better for who?” He cries. “This was the worst week of my life since Hydra.”

“Unfortunately, that cannot be true, Bucky.” You sigh, getting closer to him. “I thought you like space...”

“I do, but not with my fucking baby!”

You melt at his words, truth be told. He said it so passionately, but you’re so confused.

“I thought I was being too clingy, touching you too much, you know?”

“What? Where did this come from?”

You close your eyes. How are you supposed to answer this without sounding like a petty bitch?

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it does!” You feel his hands grabbing your face so you can look at him. “It means I did something wrong.”

You frown, upset that he thinks that. He’s been nothing but kind, understanding, and loving to you, and you hate how he feels like he failed you or something.

“Sam’s girlfriend told me I am clingy... always with you, never leaving you alone to breathe basically. And it reminded me of Sam saying how much you love your space, and I just...” You try not to cry, you really do, but you cannot hold back the tears this time, which Bucky immediately reaches to wipe with his flesh fingers.

“Jesus, baby! I don’t give a goddamn shit about what they say, you aren’t allowed to listen to anyone! Just let me touch you.”

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, and Bucky lifts you a bit so you can sit on his lap. You can hear his heartbeat, and you find that so peaceful.

“I thought you’re gonna break up with me, honey.” He whispers in your ear. “I was terrified when you didn’t let me cuddle with you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.” You don’t know what else to say. You hurt both of you for days just because you let some woman get inside your head, but you had good intentions. “I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

“I should be the one saying that, not you, bubba.” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder. “God, I missed you so much, it feels surreal to touch you.”

“I love you, I’m sorry.”

“Promise to never do this shit ever again!”

“I’ll try,” you murmur. “I didn’t realize you want me to touch you so much.”

Bucky lifts your head. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

“Punish me?” You ask surprised.

“Yeah, for believing some stranger over your man. For pulling away and giving me a heart attack. And for depriving yourself of my cuddling skills.”

You giggle. “What if I let you suck my nipples for a whole week anytime you wanted?”

“I already do that!” Bucky lifts your T-shirt as he speaks, and you gasp.

“You do not!”

“Yes, I do. Remember when I came home from the last mission and I made you come by-” He lowers his head and licks your right breast, avoiding your nipple.

“Fuck you, tease!”

“I am the tease?!” He snorts, continuing to lick.

“You’re always the tease. Now kiss me and gimmie your cock.”

“I won’t give you anything until I punish you.”

“Jamie!” You scream when he turns you around, ripping off your shorts in half, along with your underwear before placing you on his thighs. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck to you for keeping yourself away from me.” You feel him caressing your ass for a few seconds before slapping your right cheek with his flesh hand. You squirm, gripping into his hip.

“F-fuck!”

“Count.”

You groan. “Jamie...” He spanks you again but harder, and this time you moan. “T-two.”

“Nope, we start over.”

“O-one.”

“Good girl!”

The third and fourth aren’t as hard as you want and you find yourself wiggling your ass in the air.

“Harder.”

“Harder?” He snorts, amused, and before he can bring his flesh hand in the air, you grab his metal arm.

“Please, daddy, use this one!”

Daddy? It didn’t take too long for you to get back in the mood.

“Can’t use it, baby, I’m sorry.”

“No!” You cry. “I need it, pleaseee. I’ll ride your face as many times as you w-want.”

Bucky still doesn’t agree. “Baby, it would hurt.”

“Let it hurt!”

You want it to hurt because this pain is not unbearable, quite the opposite. It pushes you over the edge faster.

He sighs and listens to you, bringing his metal hand to your ass, but you barely even feel it when he slaps. You groan, upset.

“I said slap! Do you want me to hover?”

“I can fucking hurt you.”

“I told you to hurt me!” You beg. “Please, honey! Please, please, please.”

He does it again, not hard enough for you, but you count anyway. Again and again.

“Jesus, you’re making my thighs so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

Bucky’s moan comes somehow from the back of his throat, and the last spanks are perfect. He gently caresses your ass, cooling it off with his metal hand, and you smile. “You’re so dirty sometimes, but also such a good girl taking your punishment perfectly.”

“I am sorry,” you whisper.

“For what exactly?”

You pout, grabbing his face. “For all of it. But you’re you, Bucky. You’re the greatest guy in the world, I just didn’t want to be annoying.”

“You were annoying when you didn’t let me even hug you.”

You know that, but sometimes you can’t help but do dumb things, thinking about him. “I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, I wasn’t happy, obviously. And neither were you, bubba. Promise me you’ll talk to me first next time.”

“I was just stupid…”

“No.” You feel his thumb all over your lips. “You were worried. I love you and I really need your touch, okay?”

“I noticed,” you laugh.

“Good, now feed me my boobs, and then I wanna see you riding my face as you negotiated.”

You fake sigh and grab your boob. “Open up.”

*

You’re not sure how to react when Bucky drags you straight to Sam and his girlfriend as soon as you get inside the museum.

“Hey, Buck-”

“Who do you think you are?”

Misty gasps while Sam and you freeze.

“Wow, wow, wow, man. Hold on a sec, what is going on?”

“What is going on, Samuel?” Bucky asks rhetorically through his teeth. “Ask your little girlfriend where she got her audacity from to tell my girl she is clingy. That she basically spends too much time with me. Who the fuck gave her the permission to even speak to her? So she either apologizes and keeps her mouth shut, or we’ll have a big problem.” Bucky turns his head to look at Misty. “From one metal arm to another. Wanna try me?”

“You did what? What the hell?”

Misty frowns, staring at you. “You went to complain to him for giving you a friendly, harmless advice?”

Bucky instantly grabs her metal arm wrist before you can answer.

“You got three seconds to beg for her forgiveness before I snap your hand in half. And I am not bluffing.”

Sam doesn’t even try to get between them, simply watching, and Misty immediately gets teary.

“I’m... sorry.”

Bucky shakes his head, squeezing her wrist. Holy shit! You haven’t seen him like this in ages. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I am sorry. I should have minded my own business!”

“Yes, you should’ve,” you say without regret. “But I forgive you.”

Bucky lets go with a grunt before nodding to Sam and bringing his hand to your hips, leading you toward the exit.

As soon as you are outside, you don’t even care if someone can hear you as you speak. “Fuck, I wanna suck your cock so badly!”

Bucky laughs. “I see. In the car… is that okay for you?”

You get on your tiptoes to kiss him. “Perfect.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x female reader #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #my stories #my fanfics

[crookedteethed]

TO be a star, you must burn | r.c.

Pairing: pornproducer!rafecameron x starlet!reader

Summary: For the price of fame, you give your body to porn producer, Rafe Cameron.

Warnings: 18+ smut ( p in v ), semi-public sex, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names, Reader gets her body examined, fingering, cursing, Naive reader(?), filming sex, Rafe takes advantage of reader for the sake of "fame", Rafe's kinda a sleazeball/manipulative in this, hinted reader is a stripper

Word count: 2.2k

You feel a twinge of embarrassment as you make eye contact with the woman standing in the corner of the room. You recognize her as the one who spotted you at ValleyDolls Lounge, the woman who told you, "Rafe Cameron can make you a star," while handing you a business card with just a telephone number on it. 

You notice the woman's lack of interest as Rafe's muscular hand gropes your plump left breast, and with his slender fingers, he pinches your nipple. 

Your nipple pebbles at the exposure of his pinch, and you feel your body hairs prickle up at the exposure of the ceiling fan that spins over your head. 

"You uh, you aren't a mother are you?" He asks, his hands now roaming down to your nether lips. You suck your teeth at the feeling of the cool breeze prickle your pussy as Rafe uses his thump to pull your left fold back.

"No, sir." You try to say with confidence, but ultimately, your voice comes out coaxed in a shaky fear. 

"I can tell." Rafe mutters, face inching closer and closer to your cunt. 

You resist the urge to close your legs consciously, but the option to do so has been prohibited, as Rafe's hand, the one not examining your pussy, holds a tight grip on your hitched knee. 

For a second, you look up at the spiraling ceiling and let out a long sigh to calm your bustling nerves. Looking away from the ceiling fan, cerulean eyes beam at you in interest. 

"You have a pretty pussy." Rafe boyishly smiles at you, now keeping his hands to himself.

You blush at his words as getting told you have a "Pretty Pussy" isn't something you're complimented on a daily, so naturally, you hide your blush behind the palm of your hand. 

"Would you agree?" Rafe asks, now going into the black duffle bag beside his desk. 

"Huh?" 

"Do you think you have a pretty cunt." This time, Rafe restated with a tantalizing tone, telling you you had no choice but to agree, so you nodded. 

"Good." Rafe smiles. "Not a lot of girls can say that, you're one of the lucky ones." 

From the duffle bag, Rafe pulls out a chunky camera--the kind they shoot movies with. Hence, a smile began to form on your lips. From the sight of the camera and from Rafe calling you "Lucky." 

The butterflies in your stomach went up the octave at the sight of the camera; this was going to be your big break.

Rafe calls to the woman in the corner: "Hey, Sarah, do me a favor and tell all the other girls waiting in the hall to come back tomorrow. I want to focus on Y/N today." He smirks. 

And just as the woman--Sarah--goes to do so, while turning the doorknob of Rafe's office, Rafe tells her: "Oh, and don't bother me for the next hour or so, and let everyone else know that as well." 

Though he'd been talking to Sarah, Rafe's eyes stayed on you the entire time, causing the butterflies to multiply. 

When Sarah's gone, silence takes its course as Rafe sets up his camera, facing the lens to the plush white couch on the side of Rafe's office.

The silence makes you remember that you were wholly bare and how odd it had been, so you ask Rafe if you could put your clothes back on.

"Y'know, it's not normal for pretty women like you to be ashamed of her body." 

As your eyebrows begin to curve in an upward pout, and you start to protest, Rafe tells you: 

"It's really off-putting for a guy like me." 

"W-what is that supposed to mean?" You question. 

Rafe motions his head for you to take a seat on the couch, and you do so, hopping off the edge of his desk (where you were once getting examined on), bare feet plopping on the cold tiled ground of Rafe's office. 

As you sit on the couch, Rafe stands behind the camera lens, half of his face covered by the camera.

"What I mean is: You being ashamed of being naked in front of me means you're not ready to be a star." Rafe says in a condescending tone.

"I'm am ready to be a star!" you protest. "I swear!"

You didn't tell Rafe that you could recite any type of monologue-- a soliloquy, dramatic, or operatic--but something told you this isn't what Rafe wanted to hear.

"Really?" He smirks. You nod your head as if you were a bobble head. "Prove it to me." Rafe says.

Right then, you notice the camera's red light blinks on and off, meaning he is now recording. 

"You ever fucked on camera before?" Rafe asks you.

You hadn't before, so you shake your head 'no'.

"Have you ever fucked ever, before?" He then goes to asks.

You had yet to have a long list of guys like the girls you worked with at ValleyDolls lounge, something you always felt slightly embarrassed about. 

You tell Rafe your body count: a whopping number of two.

And behind the camera, you can see Rafe beginning to smile.

"So you're not ran through." He mutters to himself, which you don't think was meant for your ears.

"I could tell your pussy was tight." He says snobbishly.

"Really? How so?" you naively ask Rafe, intrigued by his all-knowing of this without ever being inside you. 

Rafe takes this opportunity to step from behind the camera and sit beside you on the couch. 

"Open your legs for me," he tells you, and as you do so, Rafe praises you with a "Good Girl." 

Without warning, Rafe takes his pointer and middle finger, lightly tracing it down the flesh of your stomach and to your core, where he goes to plunge them inside of your cunt, but as foreseen, you're too tight, and Rafe can only get one finger in. 

"See, told you, you're too tight. I don't know how you're going to be able to take a dick inside of you." 

Your cunt burns at Rafe's impeccable intrusion, and you feel yourself let out a little mewl as Rafe teases your core by curling his finger deep inside of you. 

"Doesn't this feel good, Y/N?" 

You shyly nod, something in your mind telling you that this isn't right, but fuck, why did Rafe's one finger have to feel so good? And why did knowing you were being filmed on camera turn you on so much? 

Besides, this was for your dream of becoming a star, anyway. 

"There you go, sweetheart. Now you're starting to relax." Rafe coos as the sound of your gushy cunt accompanies the noises of your little pants and moans. 

"I'm going to add another finger." Rafe warns you. 

And as said, Rafe plunges another finger in, simultaneously stretching you out for his dick and making you feel oh, so good. 

Your gummy walls take on the shape of Rafe's thick, slender fingers as they pump in and out of you relentlessly—your muscles contract around him.

Unconsciously, you squirm and wiggle out of his grip, opening and closing your legs at Rafe's never-ending pleasurable assault. 

He gets stern with you and pry your legs open, telling you to be a "good girl." and "let the camera see your pussy." 

You open your legs a little wider, leaving more room for Rafe's fingers to sink deeper inside your cunt. 

"m'feels so good, Rafe " You whine out.

"Really, sweetheart? It feels good?" Rafe says condescendingly, and you nod pathetically.

Gathering slick from your weeping pussy, Rafe uses your juices to circle your clit with his thump. The pad of his calloused thump brings a burning sensation widespread across your entire body. 

"Y'know, Y/N." Rafe slowly says, fingers still pumping inside of you. "I'm still finding it hard to believe that you really want to be a star." 

"I do--" you wince as Rafe pushes down on your pulsating little bundle of nerves. 

"I don't know," he contemplates. I'm just still not sold." He fake thinks, "unless you can prove me otherwise..." 

As if on cue, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Rafe manages to peek at his fingers, covered in your arousal, before looking down into your wide, doll-like eyes.

And if it weren't for the gritty smirk on his face or the way Rafe had slightly man spread his legs a little wider and placed his hand over his clothed, hardening cock, you wouldn't have understood what he was suggesting. 

And as Rafe slowly leans you back onto the couch, he is still clothed, but his pants are pulled down just enough to release his pulsing dick; Rafe tells you as if it were scripted: "Don't be ashamed, sweetheart. How else do you think all the other women in Hollywood got their start?"

He's right, you tell yourself. 

So you slowly nodded as Rafe placed a warm kiss on your dome. Right after, you feel him grab his length and align his reddening tip towards your sobbing, wet entrance. 

It isn't long until you feel the slow-burning--the feeling of Rafe's fat cock penetrating inside of you deep; it prompted you to let out the prettiest moan Rafe had ever heard in his years as a pornographer.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, so you wrapped them around Rafe's body, bringing him closer to you, while Rafe's muscular hands placed themselves on your hips to hold you in place. 

"Fu-ck.." Rafe drags, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

"Best fucking pussy ever." 

God, it was like you were a fucking virgin again with how big Rafe's cock felt inside of you and the way your pussy tightly squeezed it as if your life depended on it. 

A wave of pleasure washed over you as his thick shaft stretched and filled every inch of you. Your body tingled with excitement and anticipation, your senses heightened by the overwhelming sensation—a rush of desire coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless and craving more.

"More." You managed to choke out as Rafe's cock penetrated your core. Stomach fluttering at each intrusion.

Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment as pleasure radiated through every inch of your body. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge of blissful release.

Dark eyes stared at your twitching face. Rafe chuckles at you because "God, who knew you were such a cock slut, taking me so well in this little tight cunt of yours." 

The lewd sounds of your passionate encounter heightened the intensity of the moment, fueling your desire and deepening your and Rafe's connection. Each moan, grunt, and slap of skin served as a powerful affirmation of your mutual pleasure, enveloping you both in a world of eroticism and ecstasy.

As your bodies moved in sync, your whispers of desire mingled with the intoxicating aroma of passion. "I've never felt anything like this before," you confessed, your voice filled with awe and longing, causing Rafe to let out a loud groan. 

"Fuck, they're going to love you." Rafe grunts, making a smile grow on your lips. "Or maybe I'll keep you for myself." He says lowly. "Use you as my personal little fuck toy, wouldn't you like that sweetheart?" 

Caught off guard, you blurted out, "I'm gonna cum," before Rafe drew closer. His face hovered just above yours, his hands moving to the back of your neck. Hot, eager breaths mingled as your lips nearly met.

At that moment, waves of pleasure surged through your body, overpowering your senses and causing your muscles to tremble uncontrollably. 

The intensity of the experience left you in a state of euphoria. Still, the awareness of your surroundings brought a mix of embarrassment and excitement, forcing you to stifle your moans and contain the raw energy that had consumed you.

And like a domino effect, after you came, shortly after Rafe came, his muscles tightened, his back arching like a drawn bow, before he suddenly released, his head falling forward as he climaxed--his milky spunk painting your walls white. 

He stayed inside you for a moment, breathless and dizzy; your eyelids fluttered as both of your minds went blank.

And after catching his breath, Rafe springs off of you. 

"Put your clothes back on." he says sternly, demeanor seeming to change from when he was just praising you about how good your pussy is. 

Suddenly, your demeanor shifted as you became overwhelmed by feelings of illness and self-disgust. 

You slowly walk to your pile of clothes at the foot of Rafe's desk. 

"Hurry up." Rafe rushes. "I don't have all day." 

As you quickly put your clothes back on, from the side of your eye, you notice Rafe take a sticky note from his desk and scribble a few words with a black pen. 

"Here," he tells you, just as you put on your clothes. "Be at this address by 7 a.m. sharp, no later. We can start your filming and make you a star." He winks.

And as you hesitantly take the sticky note, you think this isn't the type of star you want to be. 

But, on the contrary... 

As you exit Rafe's office, your mind drifts to the countless times you've fantasized about being in the spotlight and achieving fame. With this opportunity, your dream finally seems within reach - all thanks to Rafe Cameron.

#crookedteethed #fem reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #fanfiction #drew starkey #outer banks fanfic #outerbanks moodboard #rafe outer banks #pornproducer! rafe x starlet! reader #dark! rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe x reader #the obx

[lovebugism]

hi!! could you write shy!reader where Eddie bumps into the new kid at school and she gets hurt? I’m a sucker when it comes to Eddie doting on people 🙈

i tried to be so normal about this request but then proceeded to write 2k words for it so... hope you like it lol :D — the hawkins high freak takes the new girl under his wing after they run into each other. literally. (shy!r, meet ugly-ish, hurt/comfort, 2.2k)

You clutch a paper schedule in a pair of anxious hands, squinting to see through the scribbles there. Three boys in bright green lettermans made a total mess of it — writing directions in chicken scratch and doodling a sloppy map of the school over your classes. They said they were helping you, but really they’ve just turned you all around.

Fallen leaves crunchbeneath your feet as you walk past the vacant football field. West of the bleachers and down the dirt trail, the stranger with a harsh jawline and quaffed blonde hair told you. His directions lead you directly to a half-decrepit building in the thick of the woods. A strange spot for a biology lab.

You’re trying to make sense of the scrawled notes on your syllabus — eyes narrowed, and chin tilted downward — when you run into something tall and firm. You don’t hit the warm body hard enough to fall, but stumble back in fear enough to slip on the dewy grass. Like a cartoon character and a banana peel, you land comically on your ass.

“Shit. Sorry,” the towering stranger grimaces. “Didn’t see you there.”

Your wrists start to sting, burdened with the weight of catching your fall. “It’s okay…” you tell him anyway. ‘Cause everything’s always okay. Even when it isn’t. 

A ringed hand enters your vision then — lanky, pale, and tattooed. “Here. Let me help you up.”

“It’s okay,” you dismiss with a shake of your head. “I got it.”

Your jaw clenches tight as you rise on your feet. The slippery mud threatens to pull you down again. Your wrists throb with a dull and distant ache. You stand, despite all that, before the stranger you’d stumbled into the back of. 

Eddie watches you wipe your dirt-covered palms together with a lopsided smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t have a clue who you are, but he’s getting a few ideas now. You’re a strong, stubborn, and shy little thing. Pretty, too. 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he cautions with his palms spread awkwardly in front of him. He wants to make sure you’re alright, but he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Strong, stubborn, shy, and definitely skittish, he thinks to himself.

You shake your head again, finally glancing at the boy looming before you. His curls are dark and untamed, billowing in the early spring breeze. His deep chocolate eyes match the color of the frizzy strands — both equally as wild as the smile he looks at you with.

Your breath catches suddenly in your throat. You hadn’t expected to bump into him, of course, but you expected even less for him to be so pretty.

“I’m—”

“Don’t say okay,” he interjects before you can start. His plush lips quirk in a genuine smile a second later, to show he’s only joking.

You swallow hard, still hopelessly trying to rid the mud from your aching palms. “I’m… I’m— I’m fine.”

The boy scoffs a faint laugh. “Here. Let me see.”

He takes your wrists in his hands before you can protest. His fingers are long, gentle, and strangely warm as he brushes the mud off your scrapped skin — hardly flinching when it dirties his own. 

He wipes his palms on his jeans after, never minding how it stains the denim. Then he reaches a leather-clad arm behind you and plucks a leaf gently from your hair. He flicks it to the ground again.

“There,” he grins. “Good as new.”

“Thanks…” you sigh, voice wavering from a reason you can’t name.

“Why haven’t I seen you around before?”

“‘Cause I’m… I’m new.”

“Explains why you’re all the way out here,” he jokes. Most people only come around this side of the football field to buy weed off him, and you don’t exactly seem like the type. His chocolate eyes narrow. “You lost?”

You shift on your feet, feeling suddenly very silly about the whole thing. You’ve got to be a special kind of stupid to take advice from a bunch of jocks and hardly bat an eye when they lead you in the exact opposite direction. You’re too trusting for your own good. It’s embarrassing.

“I was, uh— I was just trying to follow this map, but…” you wave the paper in your clammy hand. “I think it just made me more lost.”

Eddie reaches out a ringed hand and takes the schedule from you when you hand it over. His face scrunches softly together as he squints at the sloppy scribbles. You can’t tell if he’s confused or if he needs glasses. Maybe both.

He can hardly make sense of the directions. And the map was designed in a very obvious attempt to confuse you — the sweet, shy girl who’s never stepped foot here before. Something redhot simmers in his chest ‘cause he can’t imagine doing this to someone. Finding someone who obviously needs help and doing them over for a couple measly laughs.

It’s got Jason Carver and the Dick Brigade written all over it. Literally.

“Who gave this to you?” he asks anyway, just to be sure.

You blink up at him with a pair of doe eyes, gaze glimmering with innocence. “Um… A couple of basketball players, I think. They were wearing lettermans, so…”

“Fucking Carver,” the boy grumbles under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing…” he sighs. “Here. C’mon. Let’s go.” 

“Where— Where are we…” you mutter in a mousy voice, trailing off when he stomps past you. You get a faint whiff of floral shampoo and woodsy cologne as he goes. Less inclined to stay alone in the unfamiliar forest, you decide to follow behind him. “O-Okay…”

You fight to keep up with his considerably longer strides as the stranger leads you back towards the school. His dark eyes flit over your schedule, squinting to see past the messy lettering covering the typeface. 

“No point in making it to your third period,” he announces suddenly, swinging the heavy metal door open with a ringed hand. The rusted hinges squeak in protest when he holds it open for you with his foot. You slide in past him. He walks on ahead of you again, letting the thing slam shut behind him.

“Why?” you ask the back of him, voice wavering.

“‘Cause you’re already fifteen minutes late. And take it from me— Mr. Kaminsky hates when people are late,” Eddie tells you, flashing you a stern look over his shoulder. “Trust me. I learned that the hard way.”

Your brows pinch as your face swirls with a distant panic. You couldn’t conceal your worry if you tried. The gravity of it all hits you, then — the fact that you’re following a stranger you ran into (in the most literal sense of the phrase), who’d previously been half-hidden away in the forest behind the school.

It’s all a bit odd when you think about it. This. Him. You. 

But this strange boy, dripping in silver and all black, is the very first person to show you an ounce of kindness all day. You don’t know why you’re following him so blindly — only that you don’t mind it as much as you should.

“Okay. So. Uh… Where are we— Where are we going, then?” you squeak behind him.

“Right here,” he answers, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. 

Still a few paces back, you don’t hopelessly bump into the back of him like you did before. You watch with wide and curious eyes as he wraps a pale hand around a rusted door knob. The heavy wooden entrance squeals when he opens it.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” the boy jokes with a crooked grin. Everything about the pink expression glitters with mischief. He flicks on the light switch, letting the flourescent lights buzz on in protest. “Well, not abode— I don’t live here, but… You get it.”

The room smells overwhelmingly teenage boy. A mixture of cologne, sweet soda, and sweat. Most of the chairs have been stacked on top of each other and pushed to the edge of the room to make space for the long wooden table in the center. Binders, notebooks, and miscellaneous figurines sit scattered on a gameboard.

“Is that D&D?” you wonder quietly.

Eddie lights up at the question. “You play?” he asks as he saunters to the desk shoved in the very back corner of the room.

His excitement makes you regret your answer. 

“No…” you waver, then quickly follow. “But I’ve— I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m president of the Hellfire club,” he tells you, nodding to the poster on the wall. The demon in the center of it isn’t nearly as intimidating when you can tell it’s handmade. “You should join.”

The boy eyes you expectantly as he rounds the metal desk. You shift your weight on your feet and wring your clammy hands together. He tilts his chin to his chest and peers at you from underneath his lashes. “Think about it?” he presses.

You nod once. “Sure.”

He ducks down then, out of view behind the bulky desk. You stand awkwardly in place while the boy rummages through the drawers. “Ah, here we go…” you hear him murmur after a few moments — followed by a dull thud when he bangs his head. “Shit!” he swears under his breath before rising to his feet again.

You hide your smile behind your scrapped palm as he walks back over to you. His cheeks glow faintly pink as he rubs the crown of his head with his hand — the one not clutching a first-aid kit. “Here. Shit down. Let me look at your hands,” he urges, still worried about you despite his throbbing skull.

You shake your head rapidly in response. You’re not used to being doted on like this — or at all, really — but especially not from a metalhead, wild-haired, pretty-faced stranger. “No. I’m— I’m okay.”

His chocolate eyes go wide and softly stern. They glimmer playfully down at you as his brows raise behind his fluffy bangs. “What we’d just talk about?” he teases.

You swallow down the rest of your protests. “Right…”

You sit in the chair adjacent to the one at the head of the table. The cheap plastic is a stark contrast to the heavy wooden throne the stranger descends upon — with a sort of ease that tells you he sits there often.

He digs into the opened first-aid kit and pulls out a bandaid for you. He fumbles with the packaging for a moment before ripping it open with his teeth. 

“It’s okay not to be okay, you know?” he tells you, mostly muffled until he spits out the paper in his mouth. It lands on the floor at his feet, but he doesn’t seem inclined to pick it up. “Tell me I’m a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going. I know that’s what you’re thinking.”

Your face screws in offense. “I wasn’t—”

“I’m teasing,” he interjects softly, peering at you with a pair of button eyes. “Even though I am a shithead who needs to watch where he’s going.” He takes your palm between his warm and gently calloused ones. He smooths the large bandage over the raging scrape below your thumb with an impossibly delicate touch. “I’m sorry about that, by the way. Again.”

“It was my fault,” you murmur, gaze averted to the boy’s kind hands — at the six tiny bats tattoed in the junction of his thumb and forefinger. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a scrape, anyway, I can handle it.”

“Agree to disagree,” the boy says with a lopsided smile, brushing his thumb over the bandage to smooth it out. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he parts from you. “There you good. Good as new.”

Your hands buzz with the longing to feel him again. You bring both of them to your lap, wrenching your fingers into a knot and hoping your face doesn’t look as hot as it feels. “Thank you…” you murmur, trailing off when you realize you don’t know the kind stranger’s name.

“Eddie,” he finishes for you.

“…Eddie.”

“You can stay in here with me if you want,” he offers with a nonchalant shrug — trying to be cool despite his thundering heart. “Third period’ll be over in, like, twenty minutes. I can walk you to your next class— you know, make sure all the freaks leave you alone.”

You purse your lips to the side of your mouth in attempts to hide the beam tugging there. It only halfway works. “That’d be great,” you tell him in a mousy voice. “Thank you…”

Eddie swallows hard and leans forward again. You can smell the nicotine on his breath and the musky cologne on his neck. His face hardens into a gently solemn look. 

“And don’t… Don’t hang around Jason Carver and his goons anymore, okay?” he tells you, sounding like he’s half-pleading. “Those assholes that fucked with your schedule? They’re bad news.”

Feeling like he must know this better than anyone else, you nod firmly in response. “Okay,” you answer, though it comes out in a whisper when the word gets caught in your throat. Something about having Eddie to you is making your body go all funny. It’s weird.

“Stick with me, okay?” the boy smiles, pink and pretty and petaled, as he slouches back onto his throne again. “I’ll take care of you.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

[nina-ya]

Can we have some more premature ejaculation hcs? Dealer's choice

Premature Ejaculation With the Monster Trio + Law

A/N: Anon i hope you know that i was writing this before you even requested it so i need you to kindly evict my brain thank you very much sdflfsdj Parings: Luffy x reader, Zoro x reader, Sanji x reader, Law x reader (all separate) CW: Penetrative sex (zoro and luffy), sanji cums in his pants, oral male recieving (law), ummmm idk what else to put if anyone notes anything i missed let me know! WC: 2.2k total ~400-600 each.

You’d been teasing Luffy all day with light touches and coy glances, watching as he grew more and more restless as the hours passed. By the time most of the crew retired to sleep, Luffy was practically bouncing with anticipation, unable to contain his energy for much longer.

The moment you were alone, he was on you, pressing you against the wall with a force that nearly knocked the wind out of you. His lips met yours in a heated kiss, his hands grabbing at your body eagerly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his body pressed against yours. You could already feel his erection in his pants. His lips parted as a half groan, half whimper escaped his throat as he grew more and more eager to be inside of you.

As your hands dragged along his chest, feeling each and every muscle of his abdomen, he peeled away your bottoms rather quickly, along with his own in a burst of urgency. He grabbed you by the waist and led you backwards until you fell onto a bed, and Luffy climbed over you, his grin wide as he leaned down to kiss you again.

His lips traveled down your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he kissed every open surface he could find. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as he settled between them, his cock already poking at your entrance with an impatience that made you gasp. You felt his tip rub across your dripping hole, using the wetness to slicken himself up before he pushed into you with a groan. Luffy set a frantic pace as he buried himself inside you. “Ngh, you’re so tight,” he whined out, his voice strained as he thrust into you. Each thrust was filled with a desperate need, his desire for you evident as he chased his own release. “Ah, ah, ah, so good!”

You could hear the neediness dripping from his voice, and just as you felt your own pleasure starting to build, his rhythm faltered, his body tensing with a choked gasp. “Oh, ah, I'm gonna-,” he whimpered, his hips bucking into you as he came, spilling into you with a trembling release. The suddenness of his climax took both of you by surprise, his breathing heavy as he collapsed against you.

“‘m sorry,” he mumbled into your skin, his voice still lust laden. “I—I couldn’t hold it. It just felt…” he trailed off, seemingly struggling to find the right words in his post-euphoric state.

You couldn’t help but find his inability to hold back quite amusing. You reached up and brushed his hair back out of his eyes, a gentle smile playing on your lips as you stroked his cheek. “It’s okay,” you said, trying to reassure him despite the tinge of disappointment that the moment couldn’t last long enough for you to finish. You figured it would only be a little while longer before he recovered so you could keep going, but as he lay against you, his breathing calming, you noticed something odd.

Luffy wasn’t pulling out, and he wasn’t getting softer.

You were confused. It was as if he hadn’t just climaxed a moment ago. He let out a low groan, shifting slightly as if he was getting in position to go at it again.

“Wait, Luffy?... Already?” you asked, seemingly confused, yet you couldn’t help but feel rather happy at the idea that he could go for another round so soon.

It seemed as if he had newfound energy coursing through him, and he looked at you with a grin, as if that earlier climax was just a warm-up. He leaned down and kissed you, mumbling against your lips, “You just felt so good.” He rolled his hips into yours, swallowing the gasp that was pulled from you. “Just want a bit more,” he added, his hands roaming down to your hips, grabbing them firmly as he hoisted you up, getting into position to set a brutal pace once more. You had a long night ahead of you.

---

Zoro is usually the one in control, on top, his large body pressing you into the mattress with each thrust. He knew how to hit all the right spots, and it was utterly intoxicating. You moaned out his name, clutching onto his shoulders as he moved within you, setting a pace that made it difficult to think of anything but the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of you.

He leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss, rolling his hips into yours at a slower pace—a brief pause to let you catch your breath. You took advantage of the break, lightly pushing on his chest. He broke the kiss, gave you a knowing look, then flipped himself off you and onto his back. You then crawled over him and straddled him with a playful grin.

You took hold of his cock, lining it up with your entrance, rubbing your shared slick onto his tip but not quite putting it in yet. His hands flew to your hips, his grip tightening as he urged you downward, groaning, "Don't be a tease." At his words, you sank down onto his cock, the stretch drawing sighs and groans of pleasure from both of you. As you descended, feeling the full length of him inside you, the sensation was almost overwhelming—he was filling you up in all the right ways.

His grip on your hips tightened, his knuckles nearly turning white from the pressure as he tried to keep his composure. You could see the tension in his muscles as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, his deep groans filling the room.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered, his voice a low growl as you started to rock your hips. You set a slower pace, yet you could tell he was struggling to hold on, his brows knit in concentration as he fought to maintain restraint. But with each slow, deliberate roll of your hips, his control seemed to slip further and further away.

“Wait,” he gasped, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips bucked slightly beneath you. “Don’t—” His words were cut off by a sharp groan as you continued to move.

“Zoro~” you said, a playful edge to your voice as you placed your hands on his chest to anchor yourself as you rode him. “What's wrong? Hmm?”

He grunted in response, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tried to steady you. “I’m serious,” he breathed, his voice strained. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna—”

But it was too late. With one last roll of your hips, you felt him tense beneath you, his body shuddering as he reached his breaking point. A low, guttural moan escaped his lips as he came, his cum releasing into you in hot spurts. His head tilted back, his muscles clenching as he gave in to the pleasure, the hands on your hips holding you in place onto him as he released inside you.

You couldn’t help but feel some amusement as you looked down at him, his euphoric expression mixed with embarrassment was certainly a sight to enjoy. “Damn it,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing with color.

You leaned down and placed a slow kiss on his lips, pulling back slightly with a playful smirk. “Mmm, that was cute,” you started. “But I’m not done yet.” And with that, you started your movements again, picking up pace as you started to bounce on him with a rhythm that made him groan nearly instantaneously. The sounds escaping his lips were like music to your ears, and you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

---

Sanji's lips were hot against yours, the eagerness of the kiss making your head spin. His hands roamed your body, grabbing and squeezing at whatever he could as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth with a hunger and desire that was heady.

You pressed your body against his, feeling his erection grow by the second as he grinded his hips into you. His throbbing cock pressed against your thigh, and you couldn’t help but smirk into the kiss as you slid your hand down to rub against him, teasing him with each movement of your hand.

Your other hand then traveled to his hair, your fingers threading through his blonde locks, giving it a gentle tug that elicited a breathy moan from him. His lips parted from yours with a soft gasp, eyes glazed over with thirst as he met your gaze.

“Merde,” he cursed under his breath, his hips instinctively grinding against your hand in response to each and every touch. His own hands traced the curves of your hips and waist, the softness of your thighs, leaving behind goosebumps.

He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath coming out in shallow pants as he continued his movements, his arousal growing with each movement against your hand. Soon, a low, shuddering moan escaped Sanji’s lips, his body trembling against yours as you felt the fabric beneath your hand dampen. His body slumped over yours, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, cheeks turning red seemingly at the embarrassment of finishing before his pants even came off.

When you realized what had happened, you couldn’t help but chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you ran your fingers through his hair. “Couldn’t hold back, huh?” you teased, feeling a sense of triumph at the way his cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at your words.

Sanji let out a breathless laugh, his voice soft and filled with lingering pleasure. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against him. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a slow, tender kiss, pulling back just to whisper, “Trust me, I am going to make it up to you.”

---

You traced your fingers along the waistband of Law’s pants, his impatience growing as you unbuttoned them, pulling the zipper down with a teasing slowness. You could see his eagerness in the way his hands couldn't stand still—one hand fidgeting with the bedsheets beneath him, the other behind your head, unconsciously pulling you closer to his erection with each passing second.

With a smirk, you eased his pants down, revealing the bulge in his underwear. You could see his muscles tense as you took your time, running your fingers along the edge of the fabric before finally tugging them down, freeing him from the confines of his underwear. It bounced upwards, and a low groan escaped his lips as his cock met the cold air.

You leaned in, your lips grazing against the skin of his inner thighs. He looked at you with pupils blown wide with desire as you planted kisses closer and closer to where he wanted you most. You took his member in your hand and began to stroke it slowly, your thumb tracing a circle around the tip before gliding down the shaft. Law’s hips twitched in response, his chest heaving as his fingers flexed in your hair.

Looking up at him with those innocent eyes, you continued your slow strokes, relishing the way his expression contorted with every movement. The teasing strokes seemed to be working well, his body responding with subtle shifts and restrained groans. His grip on the bed sheets tightened, as if he were trying to steady himself, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. You knew you had him right where you wanted him, teetering on the edge of restraint and release.

Finally, you leaned in, your tongue darting out to flick across the head of his cock, licking up the precum that was dripping from it. The taste only made you want more, and as you took him into your mouth, you could feel him shudder in response. Law’s grip on your hair grew firmer, his body stiffening as he let out a sharp breath.

It didn’t take much to send him over the edge. After only one stroke of your warm mouth sliding over his length, he came undone, crying out in the process. Law’s hips bucked, his hand pushing your head down against him as he came, the sudden pressure making you choke and gag, your eyes watering as he rode out his climax. His cum came in hot, thick spurts, each one painting your mouth and throat a milky white, and you had no choice but to swallow it all.

His body trembled with the force of his orgasm, and as he started to calm down, he relaxed his grip on your hair, allowing you to pull off his cock, coughing slightly as you looked up at him with a smirk. He tilted his head down to look at you, chest heaving with each breath. You could see redness creeping up his cheeks as he realized just how quickly he came. You didn’t mind, though. You brought your hand up and swiped the excess cum that was on the corner of your mouth, popping your finger into your mouth to clean it up. You noticed Law’s cock twitch at the sight of you doing that, and with a soft chuckle, you leaned in, muttering to him, “That was nice… let's see if I can make that happen again.”

#nina responds~✦ #nina writes~✦ #one piece #one piece x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #luffy smut #monkey d. luffy #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro #roronoa zoro smut #zoro smut #sanji x reader #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #one piece smut #x reader

[mysicklove]

𝐅𝐈𝐗 𝐌𝐄

DAY 2: SUB SPACE + MOMMY KINK

With: Satoru Gojo

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Sub! Gojo, Fem? reader (no pronouns just use of names: mommy and mama), unreleastic portrayal of sub space, mentions of BDSM (rough treatment, degradation,whips, mistress/master use), safeword use (at the end), lots of cooing, Gojo unable to think properly, praise, comfort, clingy/needy Gojo

A/N: this was actually really fun to write! i did a little research on what subspace feels like, and it says it varies from person to person, but it is a sort of euphoric experience. sooo idk! lol. also, a lot of ppl r here for gojos personality, and I feel bad bc he is not like his usual self in this bc of his headspace...dont hate me gojo simps

Gojo Satoru is kinky. Plain and simple. He has tried many different things throughout his lifetime, and he is now confident enough in many different types of sexual play. He spends way too much time on the internet buying all sorts of toys, cuffs, ropes, whips, just to build his secret obsession. He has been with many people, and has always pulled them down to the dark side with him. 

But through it all, he has never found a partner to really push him to his limits. They all get too scared to hurt him, and call their safeword too early. They get uncomfortable when he sobs for mercy, or in other situations, begs for more pain. Gojo doesn't want to be just treated harshly, he wants to be broken. His standards are higher than most.

And finally his dreams came true when he met you. You've been into BDSM for years now, and even if the two of you are dating, you have a strict contract of rules you must obey for eachothers safety. It was cute, he was practically trembling in excitement when he saw the agreement, signing his hame sloppily, and waiting for your next move.

It was strange seeing someone so cheery and upbeat turn into a different breed during a scene. He was long passed the brat now, every defining thought fucked out of him. He's been slapped around, beaten, scolded, forced to orgasm, and humiliated in the past two hours. He has never had anyone treat him this rough. 

A huge part of him loved it, and a small part of him twinged in fear whenever he heard you begin to move again. It sent a multitude of thoughts to his brain, What now? Are you going to hurt him? Was he being good now? Another punishment? 

His blue eyes follow your every movement, and he flinches when you bring your hand up to his face, expecting another slap. You chuckle at the movement, gently petting his face. It takes him a second to realize what is happening, but from there, he melts into your hold. He presses himself deeper into your hand, eyes heavy from exhaustion.

Satoru accomplished his goal though. He was, for the first time ever, wrecked. His hair is matted against his head, damp from sweat. His body is covered in hickeys, bitemarks, bruises, scratches, and marks from the flogger. He was trembling, muscles contracting every couple of seconds without permission. Drools coats his lips, and it starts to drip down his mouth and onto his chin. His eyes seem to be in a different world, cloudy, and half lidded. His cock lays spent against his thigh, flushed red, and leaking just the last of his cum.

But even through it all, he's smiling at you. It’s a fucked out sort of grin, lazy, but content. His cheek is pressed against your palm, and he's nuzzling into it, basking in the softness of your touch, contrasting your earlier actions. “There ya go. You doing all right, Satoru?”

He blinks at you, slow, and thoughtless. “Yeah.”

You climb onto the bed next to him, brushing his hair back affectionately, and a little worriedly. He looked rather beat, and his exhausted eyes made you want to end the session now. “Alright, lets clean you up, and get you to bed,” You soothe, hands rubbing at his thighs, hoping your touch brings him comfort.

Immediately he pulls away, a small pout on his face. “Noooooo,” He uncharacteristically whines, grabbing at your hand. “Wanna…Wanna go some more. I'm doing good, right Mommy? No more punishments,” He pleads, tears coating his eyes. “Reward. Wanna reward, pleaseeee.”

Mommy wasn't todays title. You were called mistress, and master today solely. His words made your eyes widen, and you instantaneously knew he was deep into the subspace. You've seen glimpses of it, the way he becomes uncharacteristically obedient and he gets slightly giggly, probably from the light headed feeling, but he looked deep into his now. His words dragged out, and his body was obviously spent, but still he craved your approval; he wanted nothing more than to please you now. 

Affection, love and care is what he needs right now and you were happy to provide him with it. So, you straddle his lap, and place kisses on every surface you can touch. His body is warm, and he goes slack against your hold, mouth falling open. “Do you want to cum again, ‘toru? Or just attention?”

He goes silent for awhile, his mind hazy, and not liking the idea of making his own choice. He wanted you to take care of him completely, to let his mind slip away, and for you to control his ever thought, movement. “Please,” He mumbles, face scrunching up with frustration.

You are quick to apologize, recognizing his situation almost instantly. “Alright, alright. I'll take care of you. Lets cum one more time, can you do that for me, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy. A nickname unlike the harsh ones he received earlier: brat, slut, dog, whore. In the moment it only increased to turn him on, but now, he wanted to be good. The thought of you calling him those names made him want to tear up, and sob into your arms. He didn't want you to be mean anymore, he wants you to love him. To praise him on anything and everything. 

He jumps when he feels your hand drift back to his cock. It aches from all the abuse from earlier, and he lets out a shaky whimper, not liking the pain as much as he once did. “H-Hurts,” He yelps, wishing for you to make it better. To fix it all, why did everything ache so badly? He wants comfort, and as quickly as possible.

You kiss at his tears and pull his face into your neck. “‘m sorry. Was Mommy too rough with you today? Shhh, it’ll feel better in a bit, just relax,” You encourage, beginning to slide your hand up and down his length. He twitches and mewls from beneath you, fighting the feeling of overstimulation and pleasure. He wants this, he wants this, he wants this so badly, but he wishes it wasn't so uncomfortable.

He shakes his head into your neck, “Wasn't too rough. I'm fine, Mama j-just make me feel better, please,” he whispers, voice hoarse, and soft. One of your hands pet his hair, while the other strokes him off, shushing his cries, and reassuring that he will feel better soon.

You were right of course, the pain of overstimulation died off, and Gojo felt like he was melting. Everything is so warm, so light, he feels like he was on cloud nine. He feels loved, and every loose thought was traced back to you. “Love you s-so much.”

You grin at him, pressing your lips to his. His lips are chapped from his excessive panting, but you don't mind, licking at the plush flesh. He whimpers and groans, his hands pawing at you to pull you impossibly closer. When you pull back, he follows you, letting out a small huff in complaint. You pepper his face with kisses in apology. “Love you too. Such a good boy, Satoru, I'm so lucky to have such a pretty boy.”

He withers under the praise, nodding his head dumbly. He wants to coax so more out of you, but he can't think of ways, so he just rest his head on your chest, and chants, “Mommy” on repeat. 

Your hand is slow in pace, careful to not overwhelm him. It slides up and down easily, his previous cum acting as lube. His cock is bright red, and you almost feel bad for it after pulling so many orgasms from it earlier. You are suprised he is still even awake, sure, he looks and acts exhausted, but by this long he is usually passed out. He must be awake only because he is searching for praise and comfort from earlier. To not find himself in a sub drop.

You catch his eye, and a wobbly smile pulls at his face. You chuckle at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Whaddya want from me?” He asks, voice cracking in the middle of the sentence.

“Hmm?”

He taps his forehead against yours, hazy blue eyes staring into yours. “Wanna command. Wanna be useful for you.” 

You smile warmly at him and he shivers, leaning up to kiss you again. You hand rubs over his small slit, and he gasps, pausing just centimeteres before you face, and moaning out. 

“You are deep in this, aren't you sweet boy?” You murmur, mostly to your self, slightly astonished. It was one thing for him to ask for praise, and to make decisions for him, but actively seeking instructions from you was another. It was fascinating, and adorable to say the least, how desperately he craved approval, or wanted to feel needed, useful. Nothing how Gojo usually was like.

You thumb at his tip, and he heaves, trying to keep up with your words. But everything you say other than “sweet boy,” seems to tuned out. Everything feels blurry, expect for you face, and your sickenly sweet tone. “D-Don't understand. Please!”

“Okay, shhh, it's alright. I want you to cum for me. Can you cum for Mommy, Satoru? That's all I want you to do.” An easy command, one he can definitely fulfill. He can do that – he can definitely cum for you. Gojo feels his chest bloom with butterflies at the idea of what you'll say to him once he follows your wishes. How much praise he will receive. How good and useful he is being. It makes him shiver with excitement.

Your hand picks up speed when he nods, and he gasps, gripping onto your arms from the suddenness. His hips buck upward into the makeshift hole, and you coo at him, telling him to relax his hips. He abides without question, melting into the sheets, and you give him a kiss for a reward. 

He feels himself begin to teeter along his high, and he glances up at you, eyes wide and slightly panicked. He needs to ask for approval, he has to ask to cum, the rules were basically engrained in him, but everything is spinning, and he's beginning to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of the pressure. He feels his voice go dry, and tears begin to pool in his eyes at the prospect of disappointing you.

You take notice of his fearful face immediately, quickly leaning over to cup his face. “You can cum. Relax, hey, its alright, I want you to cum.”

He breathes a shaky sign of relief, and you wipe his tears away, thinking back to earlier of how you wiped his tears away from the ruthless pleasure/pain mix, and now simply because he was afraid that he wasn't able to ask permission before cumming. You would be lying if the power didnt get to your head.

You thoughts are cut off when Gojos entire body jerks, and a muffled, “Fuck!” is let out. His orgasm hits him like a truck, and he trembles, riding the waves. His voice is too scratchy to let out any real noise, so he just silently cries into your chest. Cum dribbles down his cock pathetically, obviously spent, and not having much left to give. You don't seem to notice it though, instead focusing on your lover, and trying to make his orgasm as pleasurable as possible.

When he comes down from it, his legs are shaking, and his eyes are hooded with exhaustion. “P-Plea–Coconut,” He weakly gets out, and you hands fly off his body in seconds from hearing the safety word. You pull away, hoping to not overwhelm him, but instead he clings to you. “Don’t go. Don’t go. Mommy, I can't. J-Just–I…Praise!” He splutters, coherent thoughts flying out of his head, as he slumps into the bed.

You nod, staying away from his cock, and instead placing his head into your lap. His body curls around you in seconds, still slightly trembling. “Did so well. Good boy Satoru. My good boy, I am so spoiled. So lucky to have you." You coo, reaching your hand up to run it through his matted hair. "Took everything so well. I'm so proud of you." A small smile pulls at his face, and everything feels so warm "I love you so much, you know that?”

“Hm,” He hums, nodding his head slightly.

You smile at him. “My perfect boy. It's time to go to sleep, I'll take care of everything. Just rest for me, that's all I need you to do.”

But he didn't even hear the last of your statements, already passed out onto you, his chest rising and falling from his heavy breathes.

You sigh, and stare affectionately at the man. His naked body littered in marks, and he still managed to sleep contently with them. His body was drained of everything. Just like he asked you to do so hours prior.

Your hands roam the nightstand, grabbing healing cream, bandages, and a wash cloth. And with one last sigh, you place Gojo's head onto the pillow, and begin the long process of cleaning him up.

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#mello.writes #Barkforme! #Kinktober 2023 #dom! reader #dom reader #x reader #reader insert #sub gojo #sub gojo smut #sub gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #satoru smut #gojo x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #sub! jjk

[cloudybarnes]

new beginnings

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: after theo very unexpectantly breaks up with you, you try your best to pick yourself back up and move on. theo, on the other hand, seems to be having a harder time of that.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Masterlist

part two :)

✰  ✰  ✰

“(Y/N), you’ve got to get out of bed at some point.” Hermione said. She was sitting on the side of your bed while you laid fully wrapped under the covers. Hermione gently tugged the blanket down from your chin, but you whined a little in protest. 

“‘Mione, I seriously can’t do this yet.”

Theo, your boyfriend of over a year had broken up with you only a few short days ago. You’d been in bed ever since, heartbroken over what could have been. 

“(Y/N), I know you’re upset, but you have to get up. I can’t let you live the rest of your life in bed! Don’t you know how badly your bum would hurt from laying all of your life?” Hermione joked. 

A small smile grew on your lips. “Yeah, that would be pretty tragic. I have too nice of a butt to let that happen.”

Hermione laughed. “There she is! I’ve missed your little jokes. Ron and Harry have become quite boring without you around. I think they’re worried about you.” 

You groaned. “Nooo. I hate when people worry about me. It’s just so awkward when I have to be like ‘I’m fine’, ‘no really, I’m fine’.”

Hermione shrugged. “Well, are you?”

You sighed, pulling the covers down from your chin. You looked up at her, a forlorn look on your face. “Definitely not, but I suppose you’re right. I don’t want to be stuck in here for the rest of my life. I just, I just don’t think I can handle seeing him right now.”

Hermione looked at you sadly. “I know. I hate seeing you so upset like this. God, what I would do to put a hex on that boy. He’s quite deserving of it, I would say. Maybe a rat’s tail, or a snake tongue.”

You giggled and sat up in bed. “Or how about we make him bald, or worse, blonde.” 

Hermione laughed at that. “Oh, Godric, then we’d have another Draco running around. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Me either,” you laughed. Slowly, your smile dropped. “I just hate him. Well, no, I don’t hate him. And I hate that! I hate that even after breaking my heart I still love him and long for him.”

Hermione sighed, “I’m sorry, (Y/N/N), I wish I could say something or do something to make this better, I just really don’t know what.”

You shrugged, “yeah, it is what it is. It’s not your fault he’s an ass.”

She chuckled. “So, what do you say? You wanna try to get down to the great hall before dinner starts? I’m sure the guys would like to see you again.” 

You thought it over for a minute. You really had missed your friends. Other than Hermione, you’d ostracized yourself from everyone just to avoid Theo. 

But were you really ready to see him again? You didn’t think you would ever be ready to see him again. 

“You know what,” you stated, “I am gonna go to dinner tonight. And I’m gonna ignore him and see my friends who I’ve missed and ignore the hell out of him because he’s an ass and why should I be the one who has to stay in bed all day?”

“Woohoo!” Hermione cheered. “You’re amazing, let’s get you showered and dressed. I hate to say it, but if you’re gonna get back into the world, you need to wash your hair.” 

You chuckled as you picked up a piece of hair to inspect it. “Yeah, okay. Shower first, look really pretty, eat dinner, come back. Piece of cake.” 

You pushed the covers off of you as Hermione stood from the bed. 

She said, “I’m gonna grab your clothes, so just get in the shower. We shouldn’t be too late to dinner that way.”

You nodded and headed to the bathroom. You were gonna go in there, socialize with your friends, reassure them you were fine, and everything would go back to normal. You hoped. 

✰  ✰  ✰

“(Y/N)!” Ginny shouted as you and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table. She stood up from her seat and pulled you right into a hug. 

Releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding, you smiled and held her even tighter in the hug. Ginny was an amazing friend to you. She had tried her best to see you, but you didn’t let anyone in. Only Hermione since she shared the room with you. 

Pulling away, Ginny dragged you to sit down next to her. Hermione followed suit and sat on the other side of you. “Oh, we’ve missed you so much, (Y/N/N). We’ve all been so worried about you, haven’t we?”

Harry and Ron sat across from you. They both nodded their heads, agreeing with Ginny. 

“Yeah, what an ass,” Ron scoffed. “Honestly, someone needs to knock that bloke down from his high horse. He doesn’t know what he’s missing, (Y/N/N).”

“Yeah,” Harry replied as he pushed some mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Theodore is a walking red flag. I for one am not sorry for him. He lost a good girl and he’s gonna regret what he’s done.”

You smiled at them. “Yeah, I am pretty awesome. Thanks guys.”

They chuckled and continued eating. Merlin knows those two could eat an entire quidditch field full of food. 

“Ahem,” a throat cleared from behind you. 

Turning around, you saw Enzo standing there sheepishly. 

“Uh,” he stuttered, “hey, (Y/N).” 

“Oh,” you said. “Uh, hi Enzo. Do you need something?” You couldn’t hide the crack in your voice. Damn it.

Enzo was probably your favorite of Theo's friends. He was always the one you had most in common with, and therefore connected with pretty easily. You’d never hung out one on one, so you couldn’t really say he was your friend. 

“I-no I don’t need something, per say. I just wanted to talk to you. Alone, if, uh, that’s alright.” 

You looked back at your friends, unsure if you should talk with him or not. They all seemed to be the same amount of weary as you were, but you were intrigued. 

“I don’t really want to talk to Theo, if that’s what this is.”

Enzo shook his head. “No! Ahem, no. I wanted to talk to you. To, uh, apologize kind of? I don’t know. It’s fine if you don’t wanna talk to me, this was silly, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine, Enzo,” you cut off his rambling. “I’ll speak with you.” You looked back at your friends as you stood up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”

They nodded their heads as you let Enzo lead you away from the table and out the door. 

Once you two stood out in the hallway, Enzo kind of just shuffled his feet around, almost as if he was shying away from talking to you. 

“Am I supposed to say something first?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No, sorry,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just feel a little awkward. I know what happened between you and Theo, but I guess I just hoped that didn’t mean we couldn’t be friends anymore.”

Your eyes softened a little at his confession. Enzo’s cheeks blushed a little as you stared at him. 

You sighed. You and Enzo really had been good friends, and you weren’t exactly keen on losing his friendship. 

“I mean,” he continued, “you’re the only one who doesn’t make fun of my poetry, you’re the one I go to when I want to talk about books or get recommendations from, and I just would hate to lose our friendship just because I’m friends with Theo as well.”

Your heart melted. “Enzo, of course I still want to be friends with you. I will admit, I was a little nervous you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore after Theo broke up with me. I really enjoy being your friend.”

Enzo smiled in relief. “Oh good. I thought this would be more awkward and a little bit more sad than how it’s actually going.”

You giggled. “Thank god. I don’t know what I would have done if I just had a real breakup as well as a friendship breakup.”

Enzo smiled awkwardly. “Yeah, I am really sorry about that. I don’t know why he would ever break up with you in the first place. You’re so kind, and I thought you brought the best out in him.”

You forced an awkward smile. You really did not want to be talking about Theo right now, especially not about how you made him a better person. 

Before you could reply, a voice yelled out from behind you. 

“Oi!”

Turning around, you could see Theo storming up towards you and Enzo. 

“What the fuck, mate?” Theo huffed as he got in between you and Enzo. 

“Woah!” You shouted, backing up as Theo got up into Enzo’s face.  “Theo, what are you doing?”

He ignored you and kept talking to Enzo. “Are you hitting on my girlfriend? Right after all the shit we just went through?”

“What?” Enzo squeaked. “I’m not hitting on her, I was just talking to her.”

You were pissed. Your fists balled up at your sides as you stomped up to Theo. You grabbed onto his shoulder and yanked him away from Enzo. Theo didn’t see it coming, so he stumbled and fell back a couple of steps. 

“Get the hell away from him,” you growled. “And what the fuck is wrong with you, Theodore?” 

You got between Theo and Enzo, pushing your finger into your ex-boyfriend’s chest accusingly. 

“First,” you said, “you break up with me, break my heart, and then you have the fucking nerve to come up here all righteous and accuse Enzo of whatever the fuck you said, all while calling me your girlfriend when you’re the asshole who broke up with me!”

You glared at Theo, watching as his anger turned soft. “I am not your girlfriend anymore, Theodore Nott. You’re the one who made that happen, so you have no fucking right to come up in my conversations acting like I owe you anything.” 

“(Y/N),” he softly said. “I… I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have come out here all crazy. I just, I hate seeing you with anyone else, even if it’s one of my friends.” 

He turned to talk to Enzo, “I’m sorry, mate. Will you give us a few minutes?” 

Enzo nodded his head and gave you an awkward smile before heading back into the dining hall. 

You huffed, settling down a little as you stared at Theo. 

He looked tired. His eyes had circles underneath them, and his cheeks didn’t have their usual flush to them. He was as gorgeous as ever, but he looked drained. 

“You don’t look so good,” you pointed out, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Theo frowned and softly said, “neither do you.”

Your lips pulled tight in a frown. Theo didn’t need to know how much he had affected you with the breakup. 

You sighed, “what are you doing, Theo?”

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets awkwardly. “I, uh, I’m not really sure. I just didn’t like seeing you with Enzo.”

“Why? You broke up with me.”

Theo huffed, “I don’t know. I just don’t like seeing you with anyone else. It still feels like I’m supposed to be there. Like I’m supposed to be the one with you. I miss you.”

You shook your head as hurt started to creep back into your heart. “Don’t say things like that to me, Theo. Not after what you did. I loved you, and you broke up with me out of nowhere for no good reason, either.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to reach for you, but you shrugged off his hand. “I don’t know why I did what I did. I just know that I regret it like crazy. I want to be with you, (Y/N). I’ve always wanted to be with you, I was stupid to let you go. Can you forgive me?”

Your lips pulled tight. “Theo, I can’t just get back with you like this.” You said. “I don’t trust you anymore. You broke my heart, and broke my trust. You gave me no reason for the breakup, so who’s to say it won’t happen right after we get back together?”

He shook his head. “Dolcezza, no. I won’t do that to you, not again. What can I do to prove this to you?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t get back with you. Not like this, and not so soon. You really hurt me, Theo.”

“Well, what if we try being friends at least?” He suggested. 

“You wanna be my friend?”

“No,” he said immediately. “But I’ll settle for being your friend for as long as it takes to win you back.” 

Your heart warmed at what he had said. Maybe you could try being friends with him. He did really hurt you, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. 

“Okay,” you decided, “I’ll give you a chance to be my friend. Don’t hurt me again, Theodore, or I’ll get Ginny on you.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, darling, I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get my baby back. I can promise you that.” 

#AW SNAP #THERES ONE FROM THAT PROMPT LIST #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #harry potter #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire #ron weasly x reader #george weasley #fred weasly x reader #cedric diggory x reader