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danveration · 3 months

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Sleep well, amour Pt. 2

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: After falling asleep to his voice, you wake up and get confronted by Alastor. Later, you walk in on him sleeping.

Word count: 1523

Warnings: Mention of Alastor eating and k*lling a deer

part one

A/N: PART TWO IS HERE!!! I had SO many options wracking my brain on where to take this, but I picked this one! I hope you all enjoy it :’) let me know if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it. Also, I’m currently working on all the requests I got :) as well as part 2 to that-no-good-first-man-on-earth

You wake up, blinking and looking around. Momentarily forgetting where you are.

Shit. You fell asleep in Alastor’s recording room. Thankfully, he isn’t here right now.

Before you could get up, you notice a purple blanket on you. It seems to be the one that was on his coat hanger. Did Alastor put this on you..? The thought has you smiling and your cheeks reddening.

Alastor’s voice sure does have an effect on you. You look outside to see what time it is, but remember that it’s Hell and the sky is always the same shade of red. You’re going to have to get used to that.

Getting up, you put the blanket back on the hanger and look around some more. It feels some-what intimate right now to be in his space when he’s not around. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep for.

You walk over to his table and notice a red “play” button on his radio equipment and are tempted to press it. It surely won’t cause any harm to hear what he was talking about when you were asleep. You press it and listen.

“Haha! For any sinner, I know it’s a tempting question. But I-“ The recording fast forwards. “Nevertheless, I find it quite amusing that this technology box thinks he is on any sort of level to me! Call me crazy but the sinners have been taaallkinggg, and they think he sounds quite obsessed.” He laughs, knowing Vox is probably listening.

You smile at his voice and find it funny how he is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his radio broadcasts. You know deep down he doesn’t actually care about the whole situation with Vox, but it’s still funny how he entertains it.

Looking to your right, you see a mug that has “Oh Deer” written on it. There seems to be a bit of black coffee still left in the mug. The “deer” reference made you giggle. You’ve always wondered about his past and how exactly he is part deer anyhow. Oh well, It’ll reveal itself with time.

You’re looking at all the other buttons on his equipment, wondering what they do, when all of a sudden you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. It’s most likely Alastor. Nobody would willingly go to his room without permission.

The door opens slowly and in steps Alastor. You notice how he opened the door quietly, to not make make much noise. As he still assumed you were asleep. You smiled at that.

He looks ahead and sees you, immediately smiling. “Ah! My dear. You’re awake!” He claps his hands together, his cane leaning on his side.

“Hey Al. Um.. about what happened I-“ You start.

“Ah, ah! No need to explain yourself, sweetheart! Don’t go giving yourself a headache.” He cuts in and laughs.

He looks down at you and says, “you just find comfort in my voice, don’t you?” He asks, with a smug smile.

Your eyes go wide and you stutter. Of course it wasn’t the most secretive thing. Still, you didn’t think he actually knew.

“U-um. Well..” You say.

He tilts his head to side as if saying, “Go on…”

There’s really no getting out of this. Plus, you don’t think Alastor would actually care. He’d probably just find it funny.

“Yeah, I do.” You admit. “I find comfort in your voice, of course I do! I just.. I don’t know.”

You aren’t sure what to say, it’s a tad embarrassing.

Alastor begins to laugh.

“I certainly could tell! I find it quite amusing if I do say so myself.” He says.

He definitely doesn’t mind it, he has a soft spot for you. But he’s also a bit confused on why you even do. He knows his radio voice is unique, but nobody ever commented on it bringing them comfort. They usually scream and run away when they hear him. You’ve been there long enough to see him kill and do so many things that people describe as “horrible, satanic, terrifying” but you still find comfort in him nevertheless? He thinks it’s absolutely adorable!

“Amusing?” You ask.

He nods and says, “Amusing, darling! I mean.. you know who I am, do you not?” He laughs and continues. “Though you still find comfort.. now that’s an interesting fact, don’t you think?”

You shy away, looking anywhere but him. You’re comfortable around him, of course, but you’re a tiny but embarrassed of this whole situation. You know he is definitely loving his though.

He places a finger on your jaw and guides your head back to look at him.

“Uh, uh, dear. There’s no need to feel shy! I never said it was a bad thing. I’m truly honoured!” He says, smiling down at you.

You and him have been getting to know each other for a while now and you’ve just been going deeply and deeply more interested in him. You almost laugh at yourself because you sometimes act as if you did when you alive, how you obsessed over fictional characters and “fan fiction.”

You look at him and say, “Well, that’s good then.” You chuckle.

“Mm, it is isn’t it?” He says.

He thinks you’re absolutely pathetic, but in a good way. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, this new sensation is something he never wants to get rid of.

———————————————————————

Later that day, Charlie wanted you to pass a message on to Alastor about the hotel reservations. You knew he was in his room because he mentioned that if you needed him, he’d be in there having some dinner (aka, deer). Which he has in his half room half forest. You really wonder how on earth he even did that. The wonders of being a radio demon!

You’re at his door, lightly knocking. You wait a few seconds but you don’t hear anything from the other side.

“Al?” You question while knocking again.

“Hm.” You think.

You aren’t sure if you should go in or not. Sure, the thing Charlie told you about could wait but you also wanted to make sure he was okay. What if he.. choked or something? You’re sure the radio demon could handle that but you just want to make sure.

“Al, I’m coming in.. okay?” You say while knocking once more.

You slowly twist the knob and push the door open. Peaking in, you see him on the other side of the room, in a chair.

“Alastor, are you alr-“ You stop yourself when you notice his eyes are closed.

Closing the door behind you, you walk up to him.

He’s currently sitting in the chair, his arm on the table and his head resting on his hand. He looks so peaceful. His mouth isn’t smiling and his face just looks so.. relaxed. You’ve never saw him like this before. He mumbles occasionally and his ears twitch every so often as he sleeps. You aren’t sure how he finds this position comfortable, but you smile at it nonetheless.

You don’t want to disturb him so you leave, now relaxed that you know he’s okay.

Right before you grab the knob of the door, you hear, “Y/n?”

You whip your head back and you see him standing up, looking at you with his smile.

“Did you need something, dear?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just dead asleep a second ago.

Of course, it makes sense he is a light sleeper.

“O-oh, no. Charlie just wanted me to tell you that the renovations went well and that the guys who inspect the place will be here tomorrow!” You say. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Ahh, alright! And nonsense! You couldn’t disturb me.” He says.

You look at him and smile.

“You know, you could join me if you want! I was just resting and then going to have some dinner.” He offers.

You perk up but then remember that Husk assigned you a task of picking up crates of whiskey for the bar.

“Shit, sorry. I can’t. I have to go get more alcohol for the bar.” You say with a frown.

“More? If I remember correctly, we just got new shipments in.. last week?” He says with a laugh. “Though I’m not surprised we ran out again. Husker is a busy man. Well, my dear. Some other time, then!”

You notice him looking back into the forest, eyeing a deer.

“Yeah, some other time.” You smile. “Have a good dinner, Alastor!”

He smiles back at you says, “Oh I will.” He chuckles, his radio eyes making an appearance as he looks back the deer.

“You have yourself a lovely day, sweetheart!” He says with a wave.

“You too!” Waving back, you then open the door and leave. Once you leave you hear shrieking on the other side of the door, definitely the deer that Al was eyeing.

You’re excited to have more encounters with him, and even take him up on the dinner offer! You remember him mentioning he wanted to introduce you to his friend, Rosie. You’re looking forward to it.

#my works #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor altruist #alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor the radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel fan fiction #:alastor

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chaepink · 9 months

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bark for me | sub!denji

wc: 400+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, kinda puppy boy!denji, slight crying, pet play, collars, praising, begging, thigh riding

note : puppy boys are so cute

"bark for me, denji"

The blond flushes red at your command. You want him to bark?

"Go on. Do you need me to repeat myself?"

You raise an eyebrow at him and give a sharp tug to his leash, making him whimper. With the way he's sitting at your feet looking up at you, you're able to see the way the bell connected to his red collar—you knew the color would look good on him—jingles as he moves and how his face turns red from your praise or insults.

Especially the way his dick is hard and continues to leak pre-cum no matter how hard he tries to hide it between his legs and with his hands.

Denji gulps and licks his lips. The fact that he's naked and that you're fully clothed makes him even harder.

"w-woof?"

Your stare stays blank. Did he do it wrong?

"Thats disappointing denji," you say, letting out a feign sigh. "That sounded like a question rather than a actual bark. Maybe you're not fit to be my dog after all-"

"N-No! P-Please!" You stop talking as you see actual tears well up in Denji's eyes. "Please... i-i swear i'll be a good dog for you!" He paws at your legs as he pouts at you. His bell jingles as he frantically tries to convince you for another chance.

You coo at him, your hand going down to caress his check. You can feel the way he tilts his head to rub against it gently.

"Really? Then prove it." Denji shivers at the tone of your voice. "Know that I won't give you another chance so go on and bark." He knows its not a request, its a command. And he's not one to ever disobey you.

"woof woof!"

At last you smile at him and Denji feels his heart swell, knowing he did it well. You give him a pat on the head and rub it, watching as he lowers his head to hide his flushed face.

"Good boy"

You watch as his body shivers from the praise. He lets out a whimper as he rubs his head against your thigh, looking at you with pleading, innocent eyes.

"Please"

"Please what, baby?"

He lets out a whine. "Touch me please!"

You take a quick glance at his hard dick and look back at Denji who has a pout on his lips. How adorable.

"How about you ride my thigh?" You watch as a grin appears on Denji's face and his personality changes into a more energetic, happy one.

"R-Really?" You smile and if you didn't know any better, you would've thought that there was a actual tail behind him wagging side to side if you were to look.

"Yes baby, think about it as a reward." Immediately he jumps onto your thigh, a whimper leaving him as his dick touches your thigh.

He slowly rocks against you, afraid to speed up in case he's not supposed to. But your impatience gets the best of you and you grab his hips to force him to ride your thigh faster.

He jolts as he lets out a gasp that soon turns into a needy whine. He quickly crams his face into your neck, letting out quiet whimpers and moans as he wraps his arms around your neck. Each roll of his hips against your thigh has him letting out even louder noises, letting you to assume that he's close.

A hand leaves his hips and goes to travel up his back before it gently wraps around his neck.

You hear his breathing turn ragged when you gently squeeze his neck, your head turning sideways to whisper in his ear.

"such a adorable puppy, arent you?" Denji lets out a whimper and wraps his arms around you even tighter, his hips practically rutting against your thigh on his own, trying to chase his orgasm.

"If you want to cum, i want to hear you properly beg for it, denji."

With a slight nod, he lifts his head from your neck only to throw it back as particular thrust of your thigh has his body shivering in pleasure.

"ah! please! fuck- let me cum please" He looks at you with tear-filled eyes as he paws at your chest with a pout.

"wanna k-kiss you ah!" You quickly bring him into a kiss filled with teeth clashing and some rather lewd noises coming from him.

He's so eager, really. Even with the way his hips are humping your thigh as if his life depends on it and the way he's moaning and mewling against your lips, you still think he's so so cute.

A perfect puppy boy for you to ruin, for you to keep, and to play with whenever your heart desires.

You pull back from the kiss and have to pull on his hair in order to keep him from chasing your lips to which he whines at. With a grin, you mumble against his mouth.

"Go on and cum, baby."

He widens his eyes at your command but he doesn't waste another second and shoves his face into your neck with a muffled cry, his body spasming as his orgasm hits him hard. Ropes of his cum shoots out and onto your clothes and his chest.

His hips slow down as the intensity dies down. You press a kiss onto the side of his head.

"You did so good for me denji." Denji lets out a hum and cuddles against your body further. He stays still and when you look at his face, you find out that he fell asleep on you.

Perhaps your puppy boy used up too much of his energy today.

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

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Baby Maker ༓ kth (m)

✑ Summary: You're pissed at your husband for being late to your weekly baby-making sessions.

Pairing: husband!taehyung x fem!reader

AU/genre: pwp, fluff, smut, marriage au

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 2,473

Warnings: light fighting, hard dom!taehyung, slight brat sub!reader, make up s*x, rough s*x, manhandling, bl*wjob, teasing, b**b groping, degradation (taehyung calls reader a sl*t), impreg k*nk, f*replay, penetration, r*ding, d*ggy, d*rty talk, d*ck slapping, taehyung refers to himself as daddy, mention of aftercare, trouble taking off lingerie bc yeah it be a whole process sometimes.

A/N: seeing Taehyung on esquire...you cannot tell me he doesn't look good omg 🙈 anyway this is filthy sooo I'm going to rock myself to sleep now bc i work on the moring, pls enjoy 💞

"Sweetheart, I didn't mean to be late. I'm sorry."

Taehyung stands in front of you with pleading eyes. He tries not to drop his gaze below your neck, seeing that you're more than pissed at him for getting home nearly an hour later than planned. He feels bad about it, he really does. But he can also easily see his favorite fiery red lingerie peeking out of your silky robe, making him all the more eager to show you how he can make it up to you.

"Well that's too bad Taehyung because I'm not in the mood anymore." You tighten your arms across your chest and stand your ground. If your husband didn't look like sex on legs all the time this would be a lot easier nevertheless, he will not be getting his dick sucked tonight.

"Are you kidding?" He gives you a 'really' look before reaching for one of your wrists. "You're always in the mood for baby making. Been in the mood for months. Come on sweetheart, how many times do I need to tell you I'm sorry? Let me make it up to you."

"No." You swiftly pull away from him. "I'm showering and then going to bed." You head over to your dresser to grab a pair of pajamas to change into. Are you being petty? Maybe. But you and Taehyung have been trying for a baby over the past two weeks. So him being late tonight just feels like he isn't taking any of it seriously.

"Don't even think about trying to come in here," you spit, moving to close the door of the master bathroom. Taehyung gives a small sigh before stopping the door with his hands. Your eyes avert to the motion immediately—damn his fingers for being so long and sleek.

"Baby I know I shouldn't have been late, and I know you're horny but aren't we being the tiniest bit stubborn here?"

"What the hell did you say?" You can't believe your ears. "You think this is me just being stubborn and horny? No, this is me-, you pause, scrambling for words. "I'm punishing you!" You point at him accusingly.

"Punishing me by withholding sex? From being an hour late tonight? I get it baby, I do but is that what you really want? To take a shower, then go to sleep." He pushes his way through the door and walks up to you until he's towering over you. His warm blonde locks drape over his eyes— you know how soft they feel in your hands. "Or," his deep honeyed voice teases near your ear as he tugs on one of your robe's straps. "Do you want to take off this useless piece of material and I'll show you how sorry I am?" He sets his hands on your hips, tracing down the fabric of your robe. "I'll let you ride me," he husks.

You bite the inside of your cheek, desperately trying to keep yourself from throwing yourself at him. It's not every night that you're allowed to top with a husband as alpha as Taehyung in the bed. And the way his hands are moving so sensually up and down your sides is making you shudder with arousal.

"Fuck you. Fuck you to the moon and back Taehyung."

"Great, let's start that tonight." Taehyung takes it as a go and you pound on his back with your fists when you feel your whole body being slung over his shoulder. He plops you on the bed within seconds and crawls up to you in a straddling position—thighs on either side of your waist. "I swear to god __, our baby better not inherent this stubborn streak of yours." He starts untying the knot of your robe and prys the material open to slip down your shoulders.

"What baby?" You sit up a little to let him remove it. "The only baby you seem to be making is with Park Jimin. You were at his house all day. Or was it Jungkook? Did you have a threesome with them?"

"For fucksake, no I wasn't having a threesome with those idiots who can't even get their dicks out of their pants." He tosses the robe to the side, cock swelling at the sight of you underneath him in lacey red lingerie and black lace garters—this he did not see before. "And I'm not into Jimin, he's too into his porno films. Now enough whining. I said I was sorry."

"You were watching porn with Jimin?!" Your eyes go large as saucers. Apparently, that's all you heard. Taehyung lets out a throaty growl, more than fed up with your attitude tonight.

"No I wasn't! Stop it. I wasn't fucking or watching people fuck." He holds your wrists down on the mattress to keep you from moving about. "You get so goddamn needy. I didn't realize you could get this horny."

"I told you its not about—"

"Shut up and let me kiss you." Taehyung presses his mouth against yours, biting your lower lip like a sin. You squirm underneath his hold but end up moaning when he slips his tongue into the small crease between your lips.

"Taehyung," you let out a breathy gasp when you feel his fully hardened cock brush against your center. Not much else gets to come out after that as Taehyung continues to lick every corner of your mouth, toying with your tongue at the same time.

It's when he finally breaks from your lips to trace wet kisses along the curve of your neck that you can catch your breath again. His firm hold on your wrists also loosen, but you know exactly where they're moving next.

"Did you really expect me to believe you'd put on my favorite lingerie with these godforsaken garters only to not have your brains completely fucked tonight?" He squeezes your breasts and rolls his thumbs around your nipples, feeling them harden with the friction.

You choose to remain silent this time, slightest smirk on your face which no doubt irritates your husband to no end.

"Don't want to say anything anymore Mrs. Kim?" He fiddles with the front of your bra, specifically the tiny hook that's holding the cups together. "Nothing at all? Just gonna lay there and stare at me with those beautiful lusty eyes?"

"You know I was feeling really guilty earlier," Taehyung rasps, leaning back to throw his shirt over his head. "I was afraid you were actually mad at me and at first I think you were. But..." He reaches to unbuckle his belt. "Now you're just acting like a brat to tick me off."

You bite down a whimper when his cock bounces free, practically throbbing to be inside something. You've taken Taehyung many times with tears streaming down your face, each round reminding you of his massive size.

"Fuck," he groans as he takes himself in his palm. "If you want to be treated like a brat so much then it's your lucky day." He straddles your sides again, the head of his cock falling proudly in front of your lips. "Open," he demands, but you bite your lip; feigning innocence.

Your husband is not impressed, however. "Quit acting like you've never seen cock before," he barks. "You're the furthest thing from a virgin so open up."

Rude, you think before slowly sticking your tongue out until it touches the slit of his cock. You know it'll piss him off but you decide it's fun to keep swirling around the sensitive area, collecting the pre-cum dripping out.

"Shit, don't." Your husband groans and screws his eyes shut to keep himself from coming early.

You should take this as a warning but you're far too pleased of yourself so you continue teasing him, making sure a few purposeful moans slip out as you lick around his tan tip.

"Fuck I'm gonna blow my load in ten seconds if you don't stop. Baby, stop."

You ignore your husband's pleas and wrap your lips around the head of his length, sucking it with determination. As if to counter the filthy action you sparkle your eyes up into his dark ones. You make them as big as you can. Anytime now and he'll-

"I said stop you fucking slut!" The words are barked at you without warning. Taehyung takes his cock from you and slaps it across your cheek. A very sticky substance smears on your face. "Now, get my dick wet or nothing's going into that slutty little cunt."

You widen your mouth to take him deeper at his threat but it's too slow—or Taehyung's too impatient. Either way, his thick length shoves to the back of your throat and starts running in and out of your mouth with a vengeance. You choke at the intensity of each thrust, vision blurring due to the tears building.

"Is it too much sweetheart?' He provokes, beads of sweat line his forehead and a vein threatens to pop from his neck any second. "Too big for your pretty mouth to handle?"

You feel yourself clench as the heavy weight of his length glides faster on your tongue. The anticipation of his release is killing you and though you can't speak, right now, you want your husband to make you look like such a messy whore that his come fills your mouth and spills down your tits. Then you want him to flip you over, prop your ass up, and fuck you until burning hot sensation courses through your body.

While in thought, Taehyung takes the opportunity to slip himself out of your mouth. A string of spit can't help but follow with it.

"But—"

"It's plenty wet now," Taehyung smirks at your obvious distress. He moves to take your panties and garter off next. "Fuck," he swears in frustration. "How do you get this off dammit?" You help him wiggle yourself out of the contraption (which ends up taking a good five or six minutes).

As soon as the lace fabric is discarded, you find yourself quickly being lifted on his hardened member. Taehyung makes sure you're well-supported before roughly thrusting up into your wet cunt. Your breasts bounce to the rhythm he sets, tempting him to go faster.

"I promised I'd let you ride me didn't I?"

"Not—what I—had in mind," you pant. "Fuck, Taehyung you're always so fucking big—ah!" You grip his shoulders when his cock perfectly hits your g-spot.

"Good to see you've found your voice again baby. I was beginning to think you were going to give me the silent treatment this whole night."

"Shut—ah shit—yes, Taehyung, right there! Faster, fuck!" You moan, too caught up in the way his cock is making you feel to care about talking back.

"What a filthy mouth on you Mrs. Kim. No one taught you any manners?" He darts his tongue out to gently graze across a nipple. At the action, you start moving with his thrusts; meeting them in sync.

"So good Taehyung." Your eyes flutter shut. "If this doesn't get me pregnant then—"

You squeal when you're suddenly thrown off his cock and turned on your stomach. With your ass positioned nice and high in the air, your husband can see every trace of your arousal.

"Don't worry about that sweetheart." His cock pushes back into your pussy, teeth nipping at your ear ever so gently but enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Daddy's definitely gonna make you a mommy tonight."

Taehyung caves over you to fully cover your back before picking up the same pace as before. "You want my cum baby?" He grunts. "Want me to fill you up and make you round with my child?"

"Yes-yes." You grip the sheets underneath you for leverage. "Want you to put a baby in me Taehyung."

"Fuck—say that again." He growls and continues snapping his hips. The sound of skin slapping on skin is so lewd but you and Taehyung can't be bothered by the noise when you're breathing so heavily in each other's ear.

"I want you to put a baby in me Tae."

"Louder."

"I want—," you struggle to repeat the words when you feel your walls tighten around his length. Your stomach churns too and the way his cock fucks in you gets seemingly harder to take.

"Close baby?"

"Mm." You barely respond, too focused on getting to your high.

"And to think you were simply going to shower and sleep tonight." He circles back to your earlier argument with the cockiest smirk on his face but it's wiped off as quick as it came when you start grinding your hips to meet his thrusts.

"That's it," Taehyung clenches his teeth. "Get yourself off—holy fuck you feel so goddamn tight around me."

"I'm—I'm coming!" Once the cord snaps in you, your eyes roll to the back of your head. Ropes of your cum drip over your husband's length, covering it completely, and down part of your inner thigh. Taehyung's cock twitches in response and his breaths turn into aggressive pants as he starts chasing after his own release.

"Shit baby, shit! I'm so fucking close. Gonna breed this pussy, tell me you want it one more time baby."

"Mm, yes, want it so bad," you let out a strained moan. "Come in me—ah daddy!" His length reaches a little further this time, making you yelp.

"Shit, you okay baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Keep moving. It just surprised me."

"If I go too hard, tell me okay?" You respond with the loudest 'mhm' you can.

After a few more broken groans and profanities your husband finally finishes with his cum painting your walls less than thirty seconds later.

A long sigh of relief leaves both your lips when you roll over on your backs—sweaty, sore, and satisfied.

"Wasn't expecting you to call me daddy in bed." Taehyung lazily hovers near your body and presses a kiss to your lips. You allow his tongue to slip in for a minute before shoving him off.

"Don't get used to it, mister. And don't ever slap me with your dick again. I'm all sticky."

"I'm sorry, do you want me to draw you a bath?"

"You best believe I do."

"Yes ma'am." Taehyung goes to get up but he falls back down. "Can you give me like ten minutes first? We went a little hard tonight, I can't really feel my dick."

"You sure about that?" You reach over to gently grip his length.

"Shit—hurts baby."

"Sorry." You grin, not sorry at all. "I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning."

Taehyung looks at you with a twinkle in his eyes. "Are you kidding? It'll be fine by the time I get you in the bath."

A/n: ...goodnight 😇

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagines #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts scenarios #fic:babymaker #kookslastbutton

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aurorawritestoescape · 12 days

Text

RIBBON || Joel Miller x f!reader || 1k

Summary: Joel wants you to come without touching yourself.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, pwp, Joel is strict but fair, unprotected piv, bondage, size kink, praise kink, a drop of degradation

A/n: I saw these two pics on Pinterest side by side and couldn’t shake off the thots. Pics for mood only, reader has no physical descriptions. Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing💖 Hope you all will enjoy🎀

MASTERLIST

*****

“Joel, please,” you whine wriggling on the bed, legs spread around his hips. “I can’t, I need someone to touch my clit!”

He’s fully clothed, jeans unzipped and pulled down to the mid thigh while you’re completely naked, your tank top and shorts discarded on the floor by Joel’s impatient hands.

“The fuck ya mean ‘someone’?” He growls looming over your face, his cock buried deep in your cunt. You squeak pathetically when you see him clench his jaw.

“I mean you or me. I can’t come… you know, just from you fucking my pussy. It’s not you. I never could.”

“Hngg,” he growls and you nervously chew on your lip.

“I’ll touch myself a little, ‘k?” you ask as your hand inches closer and closer to your pulsating bud.

“The hell ya will.”

He pulls out and you see him reach for the nightstand and search for something in the drawer.

“Good…,” he mumbles before pulling a pink ribbon out.

“What are you…?” is all you have time to say until he grasps your wrists, pins them to the bed and starts tying them together, huffing over you. His hard cock smears precum over your belly, his delicious musk hits your nose and you clench around nothing when he cages you like that between his giant body and the bed.

When he’s done, he hovers over you with a satisfied smirk.

He gets back between your thighs as you bring your hands to your face and widen your eyes in surprise. The ribbon holds your wrists securely but doesn’t hurt you.

“It looks really pretty, Joel,” you say admiring his work.

“It ain’t for being pretty, sweetheart. It’s to stop your hands from touching your needy clit. You’re comin’ just from my cock tonight. Nothing else.”

You furrow your brows and pout your lips, placing your bound hands on your naked chest but he grabs them and pins them over your head.

“Ready for your training?” Joel asks you, his dark eyes searching your features for any trace of discomfort.

“Do your worst,” you smile at him and spread your legs a little wider.

You’d expect another man to hammer into you immediately, trying to hit anything that can make you come. But not Joel.

“Breathe for me, sweetheart,” he asks you, nudging your wet hole with his fat head, and then slowly pushes it in, deeper and deeper, making your folds spread around his girthy cock. Your moan is needy and lustful.

He bottoms out and groans looking down at the place where his cock disappeared inside your greedy hole.

“Fuck, ya have a perfect pussy, baby. Look at her takin’ all of my cock so good.”

Joel slowly pulls out almost to the tip and you feel your walls clench around his fat head, not letting it go. His eyes dart attentively between yours, reading your reaction, as he slowly buries his length into you again.

“She’s not perfect”, you whine, “I wanna come on your cock and be a good girl for you. But I can’t.”

Your insecurity is soon alleviated by his warm smile, full of love and affection.

“She is. Just needs a little help.”

“Like your thumb on my clit?” You purr with an innocent smile.

Joel chuckles.

“No, baby. She needs to be fucked right. Does she want that?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, your cunt melting around his cock. His tip kisses your cervix and you softly whimper, as your nails dig into your sweaty palms.

Joel groans, then leans lower and kisses you. His taste intoxicates you, his tongue possessive, lips skilful and soft.

When his lips leave you, he stills his thrusts and looks deep into your hazy eyes. You whimper, feeling his length throb deep inside you.

Then he rolls his hips and starts gradually increasing the pace. You’re moaning and chewing on your lip feeling the climax closer and closer. His tip rubs against something so pleasant that you’re dripping on the sheets, your body sweaty with the heat radiating from him. Albeit dancing on the precipice, you still can’t seem to take the final leap.

“Joel, please, just graze it, just a little,” You plead with a desperate need in your voice, eyes glossy with tears of frustration. You wiggle your hands, trying to free yourself from his grip but he’s unyielding, the ribbon held tightly by his thick fingers.

“Shh.. I said ya gonna come like this, sweetheart. Now lie still and let me make ya feel good. ‘k?”

You nod and he pulls out, grabs a pillow next to your head and sits on his heels between your thighs.

“Lift ya sexy ass for me.”

You do as you're told and he pushes the pillow under your butt, raising your hips.

Then he stands on his knees between your thighs and throws your legs over his shoulders. With his hand wrapped around his cock, he pushes it into your soaked hole again. It slides in easily, his length, your folds are all covered in your juices, and the sensation is so much brighter in this position, a gasp leaves your lips.

He starts fucking you, his strokes hard and deep. No one has ever made you feel this good. With each thrust, you say his name like a prayer, devotion in your breathy voice. You’re looking up at him like he’s your god. And he is at this moment.

“Yeah, baby. Bet your little fingers can’t make you feel this good, huh? Singing beautifully on my big cock. She’s gonna choke me soon, I can feel it.”

You nod with half-lidded eyes, lips parted, drunk on the sensation of his hot member massaging your walls just right, and he barks a laugh,

“You’re so cock drunk, baby. Not a single thought behind your pretty eyes.”

You have no power to object, why would you? He’s right. All of you is focused on his cock fucking into your soaked pussy.

Joel slows down dragging his tip against your front wall and making you squeeze your eyes shut with pleasure.

“I feel it, Joel. So close. Please make me come, please,” You whine desperately, opening your blown eyes, legs trembling on his shoulders.

“I will, sweetheart”, he rolls his hips just right and you scream, clenching on his cock, your whole body shaking.

“That’s it…perfect little pussy,” Joel mumbles as his thrusts become erratic. He doesn’t stop when he begins emptying his heavy balls inside you, prolonging your orgasm with the jets of cum caressing the walls of your contracting pussy.

“Yeah…Keep milking my cock, baby…hnggg. Good girl.”

Wanting to be closer, you drop your legs, sit up, throw your tied hands around his neck and pull Joel to you, chest to chest. Nuzzling the crease of your neck he continues filling you with his warm cum, growling against your skin.

Joel stays on top of you for a few moments, big and broad, pressing you into the mattress with his weight. You kiss his cheekbone and whisper a loving ‘thank you.’

*****

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kneelingshadowsalome · 29 days

Note

What about princess reader who falls for Konig? He's a retired royal soldier (Bit of an age gap but I was thinking more like he was so good he was able to retire early) that she saw every once and a while and she does the typical "disguise myself as a commoner so i can sneak into town" routine and he pretends he doesn't know but he used to serve her family so ofc he fucking recognizes her

He tries to be gentle with her but honestly she should just be happy he isn't ratting her out to her family 🙄🙄🙄 (not that she minds)

CW: 18+ MDNI. Medieval AU, forbidden love, mutual pining, virgin!princess!reader x veteran!knight!König. Undefined age gap (reader is of legal age which means she’s "old" for an unmarried woman of this period). Reader is kinda coercive, König is implied to be a virgin too. Bittersweet romance vibes, brooding guy/gentle girl trope, ambiguous ending.

Word count: 6.4 k

You never thought you’d have the guts to slap a knight.

Violence is unladylike, and even if you’re a princess, it doesn’t mean you should force your status down someone’s throat like that. Far less his, the man you were taught to respect and listen to because he’s a man, and older than you.

The fact that he was also an anointed knight didn’t seem as important as the simple truth that he possessed a cock between his legs, and it always annoyed you to no end that this was the reason why men ruled the world. As a lady still unwed, you’re supposed to be afraid of cocks, especially if they’re old and gruff.

But you never were afraid in the presence of your father’s most loyal knight. He was your sworn shield too, and the only time he had been away from your side was when he asked to go on a pilgrimage to some chapel nearby. Said he wanted to seek forgiveness for his sins.

A man like him must have a lot to pray forgiveness for, but knowing that he could split a man in half with that greatsword of his doesn’t stop you from sneaking out one night as you follow him outside the castle walls and into the local inn.

Dressed as a stable boy, you watch with wide eyes how he gulps down three pints of beer and doesn’t turn any dumber from it. His speech never slurs, his shoulders never slump, but when some kitchen wench sits down beside him, your breath gets caught in your throat.

You look at the odd couple for a moment or two, watch how your father’s knight, the secret object of your silly daydreams, finally loosens the strings of his purse and offers the girl a copper coin.

It’s more than you can take, so you shoot up from your bench and march to him. The woman looks up at you with lousy disinterest as you ask the man of your dreams if he’d like to have another pint of ale. Your knight recognizes you immediately, even in your too-big tunic and your uncomely hose, even with that dirty felt hat covering your hair.

And he’s mortified, from what you can tell.

Both your eyes are wide now, and the woman beside him is smart enough to leave. She slides herself off the bench and sneaks past your side, and your valiant knight just looks at you, looks at you, looks at you.

You should be worried that he’ll snitch about your adventures to your father, but right now, all you can do is stare at him like he’s the thief, caught fresh and red-handed. Because he is a thief, and a devil, the worst man on earth when he was supposed to be the best. You snort to let him know how much you despise him—for coming here and bedding women for money when he’s supposed to be a sworn, celibate knight—but what truly hurts here is that he’s bedding someone else than you.

When you march out of the inn, he follows you, even dares to lay his hand on you by grabbing your arm outside. That’s when you turn on your heels and deliver a fat slap on his cheek, lightly stubbled and sweet, something you had hoped to plant a kiss on for many, many years.

“Your grace,” He grunts and rubs his chin, slightly amused. “Have I offended you?”

The slap couldn’t hurt that much, and this man never does amused. Even now, the mirth extends only to his eyes, never to his lips.

“You know perfectly well that you have, sir,” you clasp your hands in front of you, now entirely his princess even though you’re dressed like a peasant.

“My lady,” he bows both in body and in voice. “I truly don’t know what crime I have committed.”

You’ve never seen him so… jovial.

Usually this knight looks like there’s a stick up his ass, that someone pissed in his porridge and shat in his stew, that there’s nothing but hailstorms and calamity in his life.

Were you any more clever, you’d leave him be, but God has made it so that you’re drawn to battered and beaten animals. Of course you’re drawn to him too, lonely and spiteful as he is. This man broods so much you sometimes wonder if he’s the reason why it rains so violently up here in the hills. He probably summons dark clouds above the castle with those ponderous frowns alone – but now he’s looking at you as if he just woke up from the dead and walked into the shy sunshine after a long, harsh winter.

“You… You shouldn’t bed women,” you tell him, and he looks at you even more curiously.

“You shouldn’t pay for it,” you mumble next – unladylike, again, especially when your eyes turn to your shoes and away from that hawk-like, calm stare.

There’s a short silence after that, and you almost turn heel and walk back to the castle from the desire to escape the weight of his eyes. Eventually, he shifts his weight to the other leg and clears his throat.

“I sometimes pay for women to hold me. There’s nothing more to it.”

You raise your eyes to meet his, but the mirth is all gone now. It’s replaced by solemn acceptance, some sorrow you never even knew he had. Yes, he’s always silent and looks a bit pissed, but he’s not heartbroken, no, not your brave knight…

“To “hold you”, sir?”

The sorrow is covered with white lashes before you get to the bottom of it. Something tugs at the corner of his mouth—shame and frustration, probably.

“To hold me. Like a mother would. Is that a sin?”

His eyes search for yours from under dark brows, they beg for your consent as if it mattered to him. They’re quite catching, his eyes; enchanting in their intangibility. You know he doesn’t need your acceptance, nor is he threatened by your disgust. He’s unreachable, untouchable, forbidden—a mountain you can never climb because you wouldn't even find it among the mist. And those eyes see everything but feel nothing: they haven’t taken part in the troubles of this world in years.

…

He evades you for the whole of next week.

Leaves the hall if you choose to dine there, walks away when he sees you at the stables, looks through you if you have the courage to address him. You stand watch by the window every night to see if he slips out of the castle, but it seems your knight has lost his interest in kitchen wenches and copper hugs.

It burns like hot broth in your stomach, the thought of him in some other woman’s embrace. This mighty giant of a knight, kneeling in front of a girl, paying for her to simply put her arms around him.

You’re not sure if you’re childish to believe him and his words. To trust that he truly goes to them just to be held. You’re not sure if you’re the worst lover of poor, crippled creatures for not wanting to let him have even that...

Because you wish to hold him yourself, here, in the softest of all beds. Just wrap your arms around him after you’ve unburdened him of that heavy mail and thick gambeson; you’d help him with anything he needs. Let him sigh against you and have those lines of worry on his brooding face smooth somewhat. Maybe sing a soft song for him to help him sleep...

The thought of him being so lonely that he spends his wage on girls just to have a hug is driving you to madness.

It’s tearing you to pieces because he would never, ever have to pay you to hold him.

It’s forbidden, you know: this love you’ve harboured for years. He’s far below your rank, even as a bannerman, he’s far below you even if he’s taller than the tallest war horse in your father’s stables. He’s older than you too, but that’s hardly the biggest problem: your father took his second wife when he was five and thirty and the maid was seventeen. The match was considered perfectly normal, even healthy, but this would not. This would cause an outrage.

Oh yes, you’re to be wed far away to some sadistic young lord if your father has his way. You’re sure they’re already gossiping about it in the streets: how you should’ve been sold like a horse years ago. How is it that you’re still here, burdening the kingdom with your presence and swallowing up coin?

If they only knew that you’ve fought against every match with tooth and nail, the townsfolk would work themselves into a small uprising. And you’re not against marriage because you like it here so much... You’re against it because the knight who dresses himself in black mail and makes the servants piss themselves with his heavy footsteps alone makes your heart flutter like never before.

Your father would kill both of you if he knew.

And you wonder… What would he do? Your pale, brooding knight?

Would he scoff and turn his head away if he knew you dreamed of him before sleep, would he be appalled to hear that you’ve touched yourself to the thoughts of him? Would he think you a whore…?

You dress differently that night, the night you catch him escape the dull horrors of the castle once more. Boredom oozes out of the walls here, a poison of nothingness and despair. The stones won’t offer warmth, not even during the height of spring, so it’s no wonder that your knight is headed elsewhere for warmth and a mug of ale.

You dress accordingly to see what this toughest of knights is made of: with a brown woolen skirt and a white cotton blouse, you look the part of a kitchen maid who forgot half her garments at home.

People look at you in the streets, but without your usual attire and with your hair styled differently, they wouldn’t know who they’re looking at even if they saw you frolic around like this in court. You know they’re looking at you because you're a half naked woman ripe for taking, stubbornly out at night and dressed so suggestively it’s a miracle no guard rapes you before you reach the inn.

Maybe it’s the royal pride that keeps them away: you certainly look like you haven’t toiled in the fields or shoveled horse dung in your poor miserable life. There’s an air about you, and he notices it too, far before you’ve sat your pretty bum on the bench next to him.

“What are you doing,” he asks with a slightly alarmed voice.

He has that stick up his arse again, sits so straight that you’ve never seen such a ramrod back on anyone. When you set your hand over his, he only blinks.

“One silver to hold you, sir,” you lean to whisper on his skin, the shaved cheek you’ve wanted to kiss for so, so long. “What do you say...?”

He’s still breathing, even if there’s no sound to prove that he is. You can only see it from the rise and fall of his chest, covered by a stained, cream-white gambeson, that he’s breathing. He’s big, even without his armor, big and strong and intimidating, a tower of strength in one man.

“I cannot bed women,” he talks to the stout logs that make the walls of the inn, refusing to even look at you after one quick horrified glimpse.

“Who said anything about bedding?”

“This is a dangerous game, your grace,” he warns with a low purr when you won’t relent.

His voice is parched but smooth, and you smell smoke; delicious smoke from the fire that sticks to the clothes of a person who spends too many hours staring into a fire. You smell ham and earth and leather and sweat, horses and metal, the rusty stench of mail gone bad.

You wonder how you smell to his nostrils – is it something sweet? Fresh herbs and lavender oil maybe, or soft, spun wool, some tangerines and summer wine?

“I’m not your grace,” you tell him, nose now touching the bridge of his ear. “Not in here.”

You see from the turned sleeve of his padded tunic that the hairs on his arm are standing on end. His eyes are closed, and you can finally hear his ragged breaths. Desire speaks in them, or then you’re in over your head... Why else would he sound like that, like he’s already making love?

“One silver, sir, and I’ll hold you all night,” you repeat softly, and he swallows with a dry, open mouth.

“I don’t have such money on me,” he rasps, voice drenched in slow, drowsy want.

He wants this; wants, wants, wants….

“Really? Is my price too high?”

“Far too high for a man like me.”

You breathe a smile upon his skin, the place where his neck meets his jaw. Running your fingers across his wrist, you leave little to the imagination and you both know it.

“You can pay for the room and we’ll see how much you have left after that.”

“Princess, this is–”

“Hush.”

He’s in pain now, you can see it: the sharpness, the distant eagle gaze from his eyes is gone. He can barely keep his lids open, and when you peel the sleeve back with your hand, pet him like he’s one of your cats, press your lips on the spot you know is the most sensitive, he groans.

“You’re going too far,” he whispers, but won’t move. Breathless now, he can’t even speak with dignity. Gone are the distanced grunts and the composure, even the stick in his arse has melted away.

If a touch of your lips and the softest caress can do this to him, what would happen if you straddled his lap? How would it feel to be pressed against him, naked and entwined in a mutual embrace?

“You didn’t say no to that other girl,” you breathe more kisses on his skin. “Am I so horrendous…?”

“You–” he starts, opens his eyes somewhat. “You are teasing me on purpose.”

“You never were the brightest of my father’s knights,” you smile a little laugh in his ear.

He grabs his pint as if that could save him; out of fury or lust, you don’t know. And that’s when your little adventure gets interrupted: someone must’ve had enough of this disgusting display of seduction and whoring.

“Pardon me, lovebirds. The room’s a copper, if it please you,” a tired voice says from somewhere above. “And the ale is–”

“Ja, ja. I’ll pay,” your knight grunts with such annoyance that you’re not sure if he’s mad at you or the poor soul who interrupted you two.

Everyone here must think that you’re here to make some coin on a lonesome, desperate man. And he’s desperate, by God, he’s desperate… But when you walk upstairs and into your room, he takes a dip in cold waters without you knowing anything about it. When the door shuts behind you, your knight is back to the unbroken effigy he was last week, as he has always been.

“You sleep there,” he points at the bed. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“There’s plenty of room on the–”

“One more word from that pretty mouth and I’ll tell your father what you’ve been up to.”

You’re sent to your bed without supper, in your silly clothes, and get to watch how he barely takes his boots off before setting himself down on the floor, back turned to you. The innocent question “You think my mouth is pretty?” only gets an irritated scoff for an answer.

From under the linens, you watch him sigh and slowly turn to stone on the cold floor. There’s a big rug there but it’s barely enough to keep the chill out, and the hearth is cold during late days of spring. You’re warm enough here under your sheet, but you would be warmer if your knight was here with you… Warm body against yours as you both hold each other through the night.

If only he could be enticed here by lying that you’re freezing... His honor would force him to share the bed with you, and your poor knight wouldn’t have to wake up with sore joints. The more you listen to him let out those occasional sighs, the more you want to shake this man. This silly act of martyrdom has to come to an end, now.

Slipping out from the warmth of your bed, you tiptoe to him. You know he can hear you, probably cursing in his mind with that crude foreign tongue of his. Laying yourself down behind him, you snuggle close until your front is glued to his back.

It must pain him to have a maiden leave the comfort of her bed and trade it for the dirty floor, but you wonder if there’s pleasure in the pain when your touch finds him once more. And it’s not just want and lust you feel when you place your arm around him. It’s not motherly love either, although you do feel like you’re embracing a giant child who doesn’t want to be comforted. You know nothing about how lovers touch or hold each other, you’ve never touched a man other than your father, and those touches were never affectionate and warm, those touches were barely there at all.

You wonder if you should be scared: you were taught that men will fuck everything that moves when given the chance. If a man of his size chose to take you here on this floor, there would be nothing left of you. Such an outcome seems dubious, however, when your sworn shield acts like he would rather be anywhere but here.

“Let me hold you,” you whisper when he continues to be stiff as a rock in your embrace. “You don’t have to pay me. Surely you know that you don’t have to–”

He moves, and at first you fear he’s about to rise and dart to the door. Make a run for it and slam it shut because you pushed it too far, his dumb, danger seeking maiden.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he turns around and buries his face somewhere in your neck. He does it so forcefully that you’re almost sent to lie on your back, and you barely catch the naked pain in his eyes before a rough arm snakes itself around your waist and pulls you close.

Warm breaths hit your skin, sending all the little hairs in your body shooting up – were he to move an inch further down, his face would be buried in your tits…

And then come the tears.

You’ve never heard a man cry like that – well, you’ve never heard a man cry at all. You didn’t even know they knew how to weep. It’s like all the tears in the world are reserved for women and children because there’s no wetness even now: your knight cries in thick, dry sobs, shudders that shake the both of you, years and years of suffering sighed through gritted teeth and into your hair.

Slowly, so slowly, you place your arm around him once more. Your hand barely reaches the middle of his back, so vast is this man, now only a crumbling mountain in your embrace. But when you won’t waver, when you refuse to turn your tail and run, he slowly melts in your arms like spring snow.

He still breathes as if in pain, the sounds that come out of his mouth heartbroken and strained. You’re not surprised to see that even his crying is an act of violence; he’s a man inconsolable.

And yet, you console him. Comfort him. Like a mother, you stay and let him cry his fill in your ear as he clutches you, threatening to tear the back of your poor cotton blouse while doing it.

When he’s done, the shakes recede and his body is warm and calm, soft, almost. He pants and swallows, comes down from it with so much shame that you’re sure he has never done this with anyone, not ever before.

And then…

“I beg for your forgiveness, my lady,” he gruffs on your skin. “That was–”

“Shh... It’s alright.”

You caress the back of his neck, sweaty from the toil. He releases the fabric of your blouse only to grab it again in an even tighter fist. The face in your neck is buried deeper, his lips now pressed right over your throat.

“It has always been you, Geliebte... God knows it has always been you.”

You freeze in the middle of his confession, the panting on your skin intolerably thick now. When you swallow against his mouth, he pulls you against him, the body that used to be rigid and cold now like a hot, thick furnace, threatening to devour yours.

“You must know it too,” he whispers. “You must. You’ve seen my torment. Tell me you’ve seen it…”

He’s not demanding more than he is desperate, some dam suddenly being breached by a long-held flood.

If anything, you thought he hated you... You thought you were alone in your anguish, but it turns out he has carried the same soft secret all these years.

And it drowns you for a moment, his want and yours. Hands trying to touch whatever they can, mouth searching yours like he’s about to die if he can’t have a sip. You’ve heard what happens to women who allow themselves to get groped in dark hallways and winding steps; they hardly ever escape a man’s touch with their maidenhood still intact. And yet, this is what you’ve always dreamed of; a hot, blunt, forbidden encounter with this man.

Now that he’s finally on fire for you, you’re not so sure though. What if you’re about to mate with a beast?

“Sir…” you whisper when he plants trembling kisses down your throat. He thinks you’re only moaning his title in the throes of pleasure, and squeezes you against him so hard that a tight little whimper is squished out of your mouth.

“I’m–I’m untouched,” you tell him before he sends his face between your tits, and it finally has the effect you feared and hoped for.

He freezes too, in the middle of tearing down your blouse. A shivering hand releases the fabric slowly, reverently; it rises to cup your face as your flushed knight meets your stare with shame.

“Of course you are,” he hushes upon your lips, strokes your cheek softly. “I cannot bed you. I know. But let me…”

He blushes while searching for the right words. That’s the moment when you start to suspect if he’s ever even been with a woman. What kind of a womanizer would blush when they’re about to make love to a lady?

“Let me make you feel good,” he finally suggests. “I’ve heard… of a way.”

He almost stutters when he says it, and you wonder if this is what he’s prayed forgiveness for. If he’s been thinking about different ways of wrecking you so much that it’s enough to send him to hell…

“And then,” he continues, “we’ll never speak of this again. You’ll become my lady, and I’ll become your sworn shield once more. We’ll be as we always were. As it always was...”

You’re not sure if you like that – returning to your status quo, becoming who you were before clutching each other on the floor like mad animals about to mate. But you nod.

Whatever he wishes to do to you, it must be something good, and you trust him. Even after he showed you a side of him you’ve never seen before, you’d trust this man with your life.

Your valiant knight carries you back to bed, and delivers on his promise. He never undresses you, he never defiles you. He just lifts your ankle to his lips and gives it a soft, reverent kiss, grazes your shin with his mouth before starting to worship you like a pagan idol of old.

You don’t know where he heard about it–at the stables, or the kitchen, at the barracks or the taverns–but the way with which he makes you squirm doesn’t require a cock, not even a hand. His lips are gentle, but his mouth is hungry, and you don’t know how to feel shame when he’s buried under your dress like that. You can’t even see his face when he makes you his, claims you with his mouth alone.

It must be a sin to not take you like a man takes a woman on a wedding night; it must be a sin that it does not hurt at all, what he wants to do to you. But you don’t care. Love is much better and far messier than how they depict it in the songs, and no one ever talks about the noises a man can make when they pleasure a woman.

He groans like a beast, but moans like a whore – it sends a flush of hot blood up your cheeks to hear him so utterly needy and vile. Your knight who barely gave you a grunt as a greeting in your father’s hall now whines with a broken pitch between your legs. His hot sighs drown your own, and you thank Saint Mary and all the angels that there’s loud music and booming laughter downstairs. It’s still there, the dirty tavern, even if you’re being sent to heaven on this bed...

He gives you mercy only after you break upon his mouth with a series of tight cries. Spends a lengthy amount of time under your dress too, licking and kissing you clean.

He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry to get out of there, but when he emerges, he looks like a drowned, happy puppy, this giant, brooding knight… The sight seizes your heart in a flaming hand that you know will never let go: it’s forever engraved in your heart, that drunken, devoted stare. You thought that men had the needs of an animal and that women were put on this earth just for them to have their fill, but when you look at your knight, it appears it’s the other way around... This man has finally found what he was looking for. Between your legs, he just found his Heaven on earth, his Holy Grail.

And so he returns from his quest with a devotion that leaves you breathless. Takes you in his arms like an injured bird, making you feel like it’s summer already, and the world is nothing but songs and tales and long nights of bliss.

“Know that I am yours,” he says. “Until my dying breath and even beyond, I’m yours.”

It’s a pledge, not a statement, and it’s said with so much weight that the vow he swore to your father pales in comparison.

“Sir... You always say such silly things,” you whisper back while lying in a pool of shimmering love, a heaven on earth indeed. Not even anointed, true to their faith knights talk like this… And he just smiles languidly when you raise a hand to brush his cheek.

He looks like another hug could save him, like a simple adoring stare from you is all that is needed to keep him going for another year. It irks you that he’s ready to settle for so little when you’re ready to give him everything he’s ever wanted and more. With what just happened, he’ll live on for a thousand, thousand years, he’ll survive even the coldest of nights – but you won’t.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you tell him, and a flash of fresh panic crosses his eyes.

“Süssling…”

He says it with worry, but does nothing when you send an exploring hand to his bulge. Drawing a sharp breath when you sweep your hand over it, he goes rigid again, this time for reasons other than just nervousness.

You’re younger and therefore more impatient, which means you’re at the strings of his pants in no time. He looks at your greed with a slack jaw and a set of furrowed brows, but never tries to prevent you. It only spurs you on that he’s acting so shy in front of an eager maiden when other men would already be bullying their cocks in your unexplored heat.

“This is madness,” he whispers when you pull out the heavy, hard cock that reminds you of the members you’ve seen on horses and bulls.

Of course the man’s big down there when he’s practically a myth walking… And there must be a way to pleasure him too, some lovely devilry that will leave you a maiden. A virgin for him to take on your wedding night – because you will marry this man, no matter what anyone says. You’ll burn the whole kingdom down before giving yourself to any other man.

You wrap your fingers around him to punctuate it that he’s yours. If he feared you might mirror what he just did to you, he makes no comment about it when you don’t, only whines when his cock is snared by a frail but eager hand.

“Princess,” he warns, slightly out of breath. “I will stain your dress…”

“Shh. Show me how to please you.”

The worry in his eyes is wild and bright, but the way your fingers mold around him leaves no space for arguments. A broken, stiff sigh is punched out of him when you begin to move: if he won’t show you how, it’s no trouble at all to try and find out yourself.

But when your thumb sweeps over the weeping tip of him, he finally brings a trembling hand upon yours. He starts to guide you, adjusts your grip, huffs when you both apply pressure on it. The curious creature that you are, you look down to witness the ugly beauty of it all.

It’s intimidating and rough, the cock in your hand... It looks like a weapon, honestly, a battering ram that leaks heady liquid from the head. Smooth and heavy and ripped with veins, it’s like a too hard muscle about to bludgeon something, and your hand is making it drool profusely. Would that it were inside you, you would be in grave danger, and why is it that you find the prospect so seductive?

His hand is far bigger than yours, and it makes your heart run wild, the way he tries to be gentle while using your grip to get himself off. He can’t even keep his eyes open from the shame, just takes a quick glance at your enthralled face before squeezing his eyes shut once more.

“Look at me,” you command softly, and he obeys – what else can a sworn knight do? – but you can see that the poor man is on the verge of tears. Shaking and panting, he stares at you while fucking himself with your hand, and when you close the small breath of air between you and kiss him, he melts.

The first thick spurt surprises you completely, you even mewl into his mouth when it shoots to stain your dress. You didn’t expect that to happen, at least not so fast… And because this is the first time you’ve seen a man come undone, you quickly leave the panting, moaning mouth and look down.

There’s so much of it, and the release is so violent; it looks and sounds like it hurts because the man is shuddering and groaning as if stabbed. Thick, white pulses of seed coat the brown wool of your dress, but it soaks the semen gladly: there’s nothing left of his cum other than dark, damp stains after he’s done.

And there’s no end to his shame. He pries your hand away from his cock as soon as he’s somewhat composed. Does it with a shaky hand, wipes what little stains of hot, wet seed you have on your palm to his pants, and all you’re thinking about is what it would feel like to have this giant trembling and groaning like that above you, inside you… If you could even take all of that thick, brutal length. If he would be able to move away when inside your heat, if he’d let you hug him again, just hold him close so that he’d never ever leave anymore…

“I have soiled you,” he mutters while looking at your skirt.

“Nonsense. You have only claimed me... I’m yours now.”

“Princess… No amount of silver–”

“Don’t. Don’t you dare.”

You actually manage to kiss him silent. Tears begin to run down his face when you show him where he belongs. It’s the final surrender as he pulls you into his arms and finally drowns you in love – at last, you find yourself under him as he takes what's his. What seems like hours later, he breaks the kiss, only to look into your eyes with full-blown adoration.

“How am I to live without you after this?”

“You don’t have to. Not ever,” you say.

“Princess. If there was any hope for me to have your hand, if there was any hope that your father would give it, I would have carried you away from this place years ago.”

For a while, you fear it’s the fear of sin that burns him. But then you realize it was always only just you.

He looks so anguished now, even more in pain, when all you wanted to do was relieve his agonies. This was only a taste of what he can’t have. You both took a bite of the forbidden fruit but can’t eat the entire thing – no wonder he looks like he’s cast out of heaven he didn’t know even existed.

“Sir, I cannot do this,” you grab his face with both hands now. “Please don’t make me do this...”

He sighs and looks at the mess you just made. He’s broken every oath he’s ever taken, and the evidence is scattered right there between you. The only thing deadlier than this would’ve been if he pumped all of that hot, fluid sin inside you.

“Sweetling,” he laments. “Look at us. You’ve already ruined me. Ruined us both…”

“It’s called love, silly.”

He breathes a short, shy smile, the first you’ve ever seen on him. It’s cute and makes him look young, the quick flash of teeth between unruly lips, the almost bashful, downcast eyes that are not quite ready to meet the full brunt of your devotion.

“Ja,” he breathes. “Ich weiss.”

Then he brings his eyes back to yours, his smile slowly making way for a more serious expression. He lifts a hand to touch your cheek, and you find yourself soaring in the sky like a bird, a phoenix that has risen from the dead. It’s heavenly, the way you both caress each other, here on the lowly tavern’s bed, covered in salt, sweetness and sin.

“Your father will have both our heads if he finds out,” he tells you as if you needed the reminder.

“I pray our heads will never be separated then.”

He snorts a quick smile again. It makes you heady, that you’re apparently the only one who can make this gruesome giant laugh.

“You’re dangerous, princess,” he gruffs. “I knew you were trouble… And yet I curse all the years I left you in peace.”

“I know,” you smile. “Never the brightest one, my love...”

When you lie in his arms that night and tell him about your silly little fantasies, he grows hard again. When you tell him you now have new ones—ones where you’d want to feel him inside you—he looks like a man condemned to death.

The stares he shoots your way make it clear that he’s lost – no matter what he says, he can’t be kept away from you, not anymore. You suppose he’ll forsake even more secret promises and vows before forsaking the pledge he swore to you. Even at the cost of your lives, he’ll come scratching at your door, howling for some quick, hot love in the night, begging for you to give him everything he has denied himself.

And eventually, you grow more serious too. While lying in his arms, safe and tucked away from all the horrors of this world, you play with the leather strings of his gambeson, tugging them and twisting them around your finger like a child.

“There will come a day when they promise me to another,” you whisper, wondering if he’s already asleep.

He promised to never leave your side again, he promised. And still… What will happen when the carriage and horses take you to some distant, hostile kingdom, far away from him? What if you only get this summer together, and then nothing no more?

“They’ll take me away,” you tell him, almost without a voice.

A soft, hearty grumble answers, a man who finally knows what he’s fighting for.

“No one will take you away, sweetling. Not as long as I live.”

#könig x reader #könig x you #medieval au #konig x reader #könig fanfiction #cheesy romance warning

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sordidmusings · 7 months

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Age Gap (Buggy x Reader)

A/N: for @soft-mafia since she wanted more age gap Buggy! Mostly bulleted like a headcanon but has two little drabbles sprinkled in cuz I couldn't help myself. I will be posting a continuation of this actually writing out the scene mentioned at the end, but I wanted to get this out now.

Word count: ~2.6 k

Warnings: obviously an age gap but the younger one is mentioned to be in their 20s, fem!reader, NSFW mentioned at the end, alcohol consumption, probably (hopefully) silly humor, the touch starved shows hardcore for a second there, tried my best to get Buggy right but you know how it be especially because he exists as an amalgam of LA and anime Buggy in my brain

Now come get y'all dopamine

I imagine you joined Buggy’s crew largely looking for that found family goodness then found out how much you’d never been taken care of and how much you craved it

One day while going through the different acts you were learning from the crew trying to find what stuck, you took a decent fall. Not the kind that breaks bones, but the kind where you just gotta lay there a sec and recalibrate how you got to this point

After some laughter (I mean come on it is a crew curated by Buggy and they could tell it wasn’t serious), the nearby crew surrounded you to check on you. While you were breathlessly saying you’re fine from your position on the floor, they parted to reveal the Captain coming to your side:

Buggy bent down to loom over you. The shadow he cast over your face was a welcome break from the bright overhead lights. You just wished that the way they haloed him didn’t make it so hard to see the laughter on his face.

“Good form! I think we could just throw you around to see you flail like that as your act - you’d be our finest comedy routine.” His voice was thick with sarcasm and giggles. However, his detached arms were gentle when they lifted you from the floor. They changed to posing outstretched with his hands on your shoulders and he walked into them to reattach. He looked you up and down before circling around you, all the while his hands were nudging you this way and that for his inspection. Once he was back at your front, he changed to brushing some dirt from your arms and shoulders. You didn’t speak for fear of interrupting this attention you were receiving from him. He seemed to suddenly snap to clarity anyway.

“RIGHT.” Vocal control? Who is she? Buggy doesn’t know her. “So either get better at what you’re doing or actually fall on purpose. Wouldn’t want you fucking up that money maker.” He was already walking away when one detached hand gave your cheek two brisk pats and he made himself scarce.

It was obvious to you and everyone else how much you ate up his attention. The soft look you were still giving the direction he went in was damn near sickening. It was then you understood your purpose here - becoming Buggy’s spoiled lapdog.

Luckily for you, that was also the moment Buggy realized how his body buzzed when he touched you and how he lit up when you looked up at him with pretty, wide eyes.

Unluckily, he also decided that being near you would lead down a dangerous route of him needing more and more of you and he was positive that he was just being some old creep over a pretty little thing like you.

This led to a game where Buggy would try to keep you at arm’s length while he battled both his own desire to be around you and your seemingly supernatural ability to just appear next to him at all times.

He wasn’t great at the arms distance thing even when he thought he was nailing it because nailing it to him was being in his natural space as the center of attention and only checking (immediately and desperately) that you were watching and approving of whatever he was doing. The way his head would always snap to you for your reaction was neither subtle nor discouraging to your rapidly growing infatuation.

You decided that orbiting his personal space wasn’t working well enough. Sure, he’d give you a hit of what you wanted with some fleeting touches and mostly disguised compliments but you needed more. Hurting yourself intentionally so that he would take care of you didn’t seem like a sustainable option, so you settled on playing his own game. Time to practice owning a room.

This could be a dangerous game to play. You were certain that blatantly taking the spotlight would just make him upset with you not that you’d mind him taking that out on you. You settled on more subtle things like spreading your attention more through the crew instead of mostly on him, being more focused and daring in your training, participating more in the many games that broke out when the alcohol did, and dressing a bit more intentionally (whether that’s flashier colors, eye-catching accessories, bold makeup, new or intricate hairstyles, etc.)

The boldest card you played was feeding more into any of the flirting you received.

He has a freak show, yes, but have you ever seen how fine circus performers are?? Full fun costumes are It and also the tasks they have to perform either help them get conventionally attractive bodies and/or the rizz that comes with performing feats (just look at the traction Fryboy has gained with women like damn why he kinda-). Due to that, you’re around attractive people all the time.

While the flirting is for the purpose of pushing Buggy’s buttons, you must admit that it wasn’t a hard habit to keep up and may help inflate your ego.

Your attempts have mixed results. Buggy’s desire to claim you grew but so did his insecurity

In his mind, you look more natural next to one of the younger lookers in his crew while he’s certain the pair of you must look ridiculous together. It’s this very insecurity that’s gonna make it necessary for you to bluntly and shamelessly throw yourself at him both repeatedly and with no room for questions:

You have no clue what else you can do to get through that thick skull of his. You’re on your knees, quite literally at that. You figured that kneeling in front of that circus throne while he’s laid himself all over it would be enough to break the man. Enough to break any man, really, but he’s still finding ways to deflect you.

Buggy nodded his head to a nearby open seat. “You know they made chairs to be comfortable and your dumb ass is on the floor. That drunk already?” he snorted. Maybe choosing to do this during one of the many celebrations (you think this one is for one week of no one pregaming for show runs. ironic.) was a bad idea. You had been banking on some drinks loosening up whatever was holding him back. It always made you snicker when you entertained the idea of it being from a sense of propriety. Checking in on the situation, you could see how all the chaos going on around you two made it easier for him to keep his eyes off of you and his ears unfocused. Earlier, you had counted it as a plus that working up a buzz would help you bulldoze through his stubbornness. You had forgotten that any alcohol in your system would make for the perfect excuse for him to write you off.

“I’ve barely started my third drink,” you started with a pout, “and I’d be ashamed if that’s enough to get me drunk after all the time spent on your crew.”

“Then you are just being stupid.”

You huffed and rolled your eyes. Okay. Attention didn’t work. Compliments didn’t work. Kneeling didn’t work. Time for some big guns.

You shifted to the side so you’d be sitting towards your left hip with your bent legs beside you. Your drink found its way to your right hand but, most importantly, your chin found its way onto Buggy’s left knee. It brought you so close to where you’d really like to put yourself to work, and, man, was the temptation strong with the way his right leg was slung over the armrest of his seat. How did he expect you to stay away when he was serving himself up on a platter like this?

Buggy was definitely giving you his undivided attention now. His gaze was dark and slightly accusatory. The lighting matched with his makeup made him look more dangerous than usual. The nerves it sent through you might have had you back right off. Instead you held your ground because you saw his pulse hammer against his neck. You saw his throat bob as he swallowed. You saw his pink tongue contrast with red as he licked his lips and gave a shaky exhale.

While you were starting to settle into your bold move, Buggy was becoming more and more antsy. His grip on his glass became white-knuckled under his gloves, and he tried to give himself time to think by taking a huge gulp of his drink. Why did you have to look at him like that? So pleading? The angle from his lap made your lashes darken your eyes and it was impossible for him to keep the image of your hooded gaze about a foot closer to him out of his head. What did you want from him? You’d denied his accusations about money or intel so what the fuck could it be? Was this a game? Get in the pants of the Captain for preferential treatment and go back to whoever else you had in your palm on the crew to laugh about him falling for it?

You noticed his mood turning sour so you decided to interrupt whatever was tumbling around his head. “I think I could get much more comfy right here.” To prove a point, you dragged your chin to his inner thigh, right above his knee, and snuggled your cheek into his leg. His pants weren’t the softest against your skin but he was so addictingly warm through them. Your eyes briefly fluttered shut to enjoy the sensation before you looked back up at him and flirtatiously said, “I’m comfiest next to you.”

His hands itched with the need to grab you by the hair and force your face right where he needed you. Instead he scoffed at you. “Suuuuure. And why’s that, princess?”

“You make me smile,” you admitted immediately. His startled gaze met your lovesick one and you realized what you said and how quickly you said it. Too close to emotionally vulnerable; time to backtrack a touch. You want to get the role as his trophy before you even attempt to approach the title of Love of His Life. “You also said that you take care of your crew and I’m on your crew, right? So you’ll take care of me.”

The cheeky smile you spoke through melted him. An achingly deep sigh left him while his right hand detached from the arm to deposit his drink on the floor next to you. Quickly, it flew back to its limb. Both of your hearts pumped fire through your chests as he reached that hand out towards you. Buggy took his time stroking his fingers from your forehead into your hair. When his palm came down to join the gesture, you were very happy to realize that his hand was just as warm as the thigh still under your cheek. You shuffled closer so your legs squeezed in between his foot and the left leg of his throne. Buggy shuddered when he felt your fingertips graze the back of his calf and spread out like a star so you could grab it. Using your new grip, you snuggled more firmly into his leg and let yourself buzz off of getting this new touch from your Captain.

Ulterior motives be damned, Buggy couldn’t give them any credence when you looked so happy to sit at his feet and receive such a simple touch. He should probably laugh and call you a needy puppy to regain some control over the situation. Instead, he slipped his hand down the side of your head. He massaged his fingertips into the base of your skull and said, “I’ll take care of you, little star.”

Once he has accepted that you’re serious there will be jokes about the dynamic but do not be fooled - he can only dish it out and WILL spiral if he receives any type of comment about how much older he is (the word geriatric is punishable by death)

Sometimes the joke is him patronizingly treating you like a child (you almost socked him right there at the dinner table when some food came at your face with accompanying airplane noises)

Sometimes it’s calling you a gold digger (“then where’s my allowance, huh?” “OH so my gIFTS AREN’T ENOUGH FOR YOU NOW? YOU were the one ACTUALLY CRYING over me buying you that wonky ass stuffed seal with the lopsided face!!” “HIS NAME IS JERRY AND YOU WILL SHOW HIM SOME RESPECT”)

Sometimes it’s just dumb shit like pointing at the type of girl’s clothing store that has made a contract with God to own all the pinks and pastels the world has to offer before turning to you straight faced and asking if you want to stop in to look. Any way this man can think to goof, he will.

And it’s tooooootally a coping mechanism to process the fact that he’s nearly forty and dating a twenty-something and not at all because joking around with you has become one of his basic survival needs

The dynamic ends up helping both of y’all feel special - you have a hot, boisterous, spotlight-stealing pirate captain pampering (and then making a mess of) you while he gets a beautiful, capable, eye-catching young thing looking at him like he hung the stars in the sky

Nothing goes to Buggy’s head more than when you walk into a room full of people, attractive ones especially, and only see him.

He loves anything that makes it obvious to others that you are his, whether that's him draped over you, you draped over him, red stains on the back of your hands, your shoulders, your cheeks, your forehead, your neck, having his jolly roger on your outfit, having you in his hat or coat

This very much extends to him wanting anyone and everyone to overhear you in the bedroom. Everyone should know you're his and he's the only one who can make you feel so good

Don't worry, they'll also get the message that he's yours from all the moaning and praises

He gives you endless pet names but always comes back to “sweet stuff”, “sweets”, “princess”, “star”, “prima donna” (affectionate), “prima donna” (derogatory), and anything preceded by “little” (“little showstopper”, “little tease”, very rarely “little girl” if he feels especially like exerting power over you)

He prides himself on making you feel cared for and safe. Instead of feeling like a chore he has to do because he’s in the ‘older man’ role, he loves the way you preen under his attention and how you happily return the favor.

When in the Cross Guild Era, Buggy started going to all meetings with you by his side then on his thigh. It was a good defensive strategy because the other two seemed more hesitant to throttle him if you were in the way, but lets be real this man is also clingy and loves showing you off too.

At first he found it offensive that Mihawk and Croc were so disbelieving at the sight of you happily perched on your captain’s lap but then it made him the smuggest motherfucker when he would see their eyes trail over you knowing that they can only look and he can touch however he wants. This leads to him pushing until he hit your boundary at leaving very visible marks on you

One time he fucked you stupid right before a meeting so that you wouldn’t think about the bite mark surrounded by red makeup that kept playing peekaboo with your shirt collar (or the red smears between your thighs that showed whenever you shifted your legs)

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #opla buggy #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #my writing #fem reader #afab reader #x reader

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aflamboyanceofflamingos · 2 days

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Tim, suddenlly looking up: Oh My God Dick: What? are you okay? What happened? Tim: I just realized why Jason keeps making jokes about how he died Jason: Yeah, because I died. It was a fairly big thing Tim: No, it's because nothing else happened when you were Robin Jason: What Tim: Dick's the original Robin and the first sidekick, not to mention Discowing, so he has a lot to joke about- Dick: Hey! Discowing was cool Tim: No it was not. Neither was Ric without a k. Never be anything but Nightwing Dick: Aw, you like it when I'm myself Tim: No, I'm less tramatized when you're yourself. Anyway, Steph started a gang war, Demon Brat died and came back to life and is still Robin, Duke's not Robin but he started We Are Robin and jumped out of a police car before being a vigilante and I have my own things that we don't need to discus- Dick: Saved the world in a intergalatic baseball game- Jason: Hid the purchase of your own batmoblie in the batarang expenses- Dick: Sunk around and took photos of vigilante at the age of 9- Tim: THAT WE DON'T HAVE TO DISCUSS! Back to what I was saying, Jason's the boring robin Jason: Rude- Tim: You were the good robin, the little crazy shit you did like steal the tires off the batmobile were kinda overshadowed by the fact that you like Jane Austen and you been red hood is because you died so everything you've done since then still has to do with the one thing that happened to you as Robin Dick: Oh My God. You said you were sticking to the same joke over and over again so it would have the same effect, but really you have nothing else to make jokes about Tim: Exactly! Jason: We really don't have to talk about this- Tim: I need to go tell Steph immediately Dick: I need to go tell everyone immediately

#tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #stephaine brown #duke thomas #damian wayne #batfam #robins #robin #I am so sorry #this is so insensitive #but also really funny #i'm so sorry #i need to stop laughing

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aesthetic-bbyg · 9 months

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HEY EMO BOY - Bill K.

In which you dedicate your performance to your celebrity crush, but he doesn’t know until the press gets ahold of it.

Bill Kaulitz x fem!reader

AUTHORS NOTE: this idea may be floating somewhere on somebody else’s blog but this I just came up myself so I’m not trying to copy nobody! I also had to change some of the lyrics for the sake of the story! Thx bbyg’s <33

Pt 2!

YOU LET OUT A HEAVY BREATH, finishing up the song, you reached down for the bottle of water by your feet, chugging the last of it. The concert has reached it’s final song, and you’ve got an idea that you’ve been planning for weeks. The crowd is still booming with shrieks, practically making the whole place rumbled. A grin appeared on your lips as you walked over to the microphone.

“Can you guys keep a secret?” You questioned as the crowd yelled in return, you giggled and a felt an overwhelming feeling of joy fill your body. “Well, I have a huge crush on this guy who totally doesn’t know I exist.” A string of boos followed after. “You guys may know him, he’s German, he’s the lead singer of a band, I believe he has a twin brother.” Within moments the crowd began to screamed, realizing who it was, there weren’t many German lead singers who have a twin brother, well..not that you knew of. You had a proud smirk on you face, bitting your lip to contain more nervous giggles from slipping out. “I think he suuper hot, so I decided to make a song about him, you guys ready?”

“Yeah!” At the sound of their approval the song immediately began to sound through the massive speakers scattered through the stage. You gripped the bedazzled microphone in your neatly manicured hands, the lights flickered with pretty pink colors, radiating your signature color as it reflected off your diamond studded belt. You couldn’t contain the large smile as you lifted the mic to your mouth.

“Saw this boy at the mall last week, got the kinda look to me me freak!” You skipped around the stage, your denim mini shorts riding farther up your thighs then it already was. “That long ass hair with the tightest jeans, my chemical romance on his tee.” You ran a smooth hand down your body, exaggerating your attraction towards him. “He looked so sick like he was dying, if I said he wasn’t hot then I’d be lying. Please, handsome, don’t be coy. Come on fuck me emo boy!”

The repetition of the lyrics echoed throughout the large stadium, it was actually hilarious how such a large crowd of people jumped and shouted come on fuck me emo boy, over and over again. You giggled, raising the microphone back to your lips, “This boy just unlike the rest, one look and I bitch I loose my breath. Wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic? Lift me up and then I drop it. He’s with his band, goin on tour. Should I go? Well, bitch, for sure!” Your favorite was coming up, it was a little explicit but what would be the fun if it wasn’t? “He might not look he gets bitches but honey that dick is eleven inches.”

With your pearly teeth out, your lips stretched into large smile you bounced around the stage, hearing the the beat blast into your ear drum. A collection of things were thrown onto the stage, it was a common reoccurrence during all your concerts. People would launched flowers, letters, bras, sunglasses, and far to many things that just piled up on the floor until you finished your set list and had all the gifts delivered to your dressing room. You admired your fans, the way their wristbands glowed in the dark night, the creative posters that were raised above their heads, it was hard to grasp onto it sometimes but the feeling never failed to make you proud.

“Hey, hey, hey emo boy!” The song had concluded, though the fans were far from quiet, you gave them a polite bow as the crew behind you began to pack up all the instruments. You were stuck in your spot, waving to all the giddy people who nearly broke down the barricade in excitement. “Thank you! Hugs and kisses to all of you who made it here tonight, I love you guys!” Your feet began to move towards the backstage, a part of you absolutely devastated that the show ended, but also relieved to get some rest. Although, before you could fully leave you jogged back over to the microphone. “And make sure to keep the song a secret from the emo hottie.” With that, you walked towards your assistant, Teresa, who held a bottle of water ready for you.

“You looked amazing, baby!” The dark haired girl giggled as you took the cool liquid and let it run down your sore throat.

“Thank you, I felt amazing!” You smiled, “Was the song good? It wasn’t too much, was it?”

“Absolutely not, the song was great, and I’m proud that you finally got around to preforming it.” Your assistant grinned, “It’ll definitely get his attention.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the goal.” You mumbled, looking over at your dressing room, ready to go in and remove all the makeup and heavy accessories you had on till you noticed that your name tag was gone from the front door. “Hey, what happened to my name tag?”

Teresa looked over, “Oh, they’re replacing it because Tokio Hotel is preforming here tomorrow.”

“What!” You nearly chocked on your water, eyes practically bulging out of your face as you stared back at your assistant. “Why didn’t you tell me that they were literally preforming here the day after me?”

“To be fair I didn’t know until they started moving stuff around.” Right as the words left her mouth a random man came over and slipped in a paper to the plastic cover on the front door. It wasn’t a mistake, the bold letter stated back at you: TOKIO HOTEL

“Well, I’m most definitely fucked.”

“BILL!” TOM PRACTICALLY ran across the tour bus, holding his baggy pants up in one hand while the other held a laptop. His twin sat on the couch, munching on a pack of sour candy. “Bill, you have to look at this!”

Bill stared at his brother with furrowed brows, wondering what has gotten him so giddy and grinning like a child. That was until the laptop was shoved in his face, some random article pulled up with some dramatized title that he didn’t even want to read. “What is this?”

“Read it!”

POP STAR, Y/N L/N WRITES EXPLICIT SONG TO GERMAN LEAD SINGER, BILL KAULITZ; COULD THIS BE THE START OF A NEW ROMANCE?

Bill’s fingers slid on the mouse pad, scrolling the through the article as his eyes quickly scanned the words in front of him. “This surely isn’t about me, Tom, it’s just fake news that they’re trying to shove down people’s throats.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bill, the y/n l/n is crushing on you and dropping subtle hints, hence, the song about wanting to fuck you.” Tom shook his brothers shoulders proudly, his grin wide.

A hue of red spread on Bill’s pale skin, clicking on the attached video that gave him the whole performance. Sure enough, there you were, singing a song about wanting to fuck an emo boy. “I don’t know, Tom.”

The oldest twin let out a groan, “Bill, she wants you, think about it. She’s our age and she says that the song is dedicate to a German lead singer who is touring with his band.” He had a good point, and that’s what made Bill smile a bit, it made a puff of pride filled his chest. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Tom laughed, “She wants you, Bill, and I wouldn’t want to pass up on that.”

“Enough.” Bill sheepishly smiled, closing the laptop and shoving into Tom’s chest, curling up on the couch as he felt a wave of heat wash over him. If the song was about him, and you meant what you said, then it really turned him on. He couldn’t help it, his already tight skinny jeans grew tighter.

“BILL, WHAT ARE YOURE opinions on y/n l/n new song about?”

“Bill is it true that you are y/n’s baby daddy?”

“Bill look over here!”

“Are you and y/n a couple?”

A flood of questions and bright, flashing lights came his way as he made his way towards the doors of the venue. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, attempting to move past the paparazzi and avoid there strange questions. His band mates followed behind him, struggling to keep up with him due to the crowding. He finally let out a breath of relief as he made his way inside. The flashing cameras replaced with colorful lights and the screaming substituted with the shaky bass of the music booming from the dance floor. Tom had already separated himself from the group, going off to the bar to try and find a new girl to bring to his hotel. Georg had dropped out, opting on talking with his girlfriend through phone all night instead. Gustav had also followed Tom to the bar, craving alcohol in his system.

The crowd of people were familiar, he had seen some of them at the event from before, there were many famous faces. Yet he stood by a wall, eyes looking around awkwardly, despite the many times he’d been to these events he always had to ease his way in throughout the night. After a few drinks he’d start getting loose, but for the moment he’d just scan the dance floor till he caught someone he knew.

That’s when he gaze was in trapped by a spark, a beautiful glow that confidently bounced on the dance floor, happily dancing. It was you, you were dancing with your friend, a half drunken drink in your hand while your swing your hips and shimmy you chest with a surge of confidence. The short dress having to constantly be tugged down your plush thighs, as you giggled, you felt something. A sense of being watched, but there was hundreds of people around, and a lot of them liked to stare.

You leaned into your friends ear, excusing yourself to the bathroom, you heels carried you to through the crowds of drunk people and to a small opening where you could go to the bathroom. Bill’s eyes watched your every move, were you coming towards him or was he fucking crazy? He nervously stared at you, your features became more clear, it was you. Y/n l/n. You were getting closer, he felt his breath hitch, what was he going to say? Well, he didn’t have to worry since you walked right past him, eyes not sparing him a glance as you rushed into a hallway. He furrowed his brows, staring as your figure disappeared, it was then that he noticed many people exiting and passing to enter the same hallway you just entered. He glanced up and saw the clear sight that read. RESTROOM.

He huffed, crossing his arms with a frown, maybe it was a sigh that he should talk to her but now it he had to wait till you walked back out. Finally, you left the restroom, shoving the lipgloss back into your bra and strutting out. You were excited to go back to dancing, a big smile on you lip, that was until a large hand wrapped itself around your wrist, tugging you back before you could go any farther. You looked back with furrowed brows, you had to crane you eyes up to look at who was the man behind the touch. You mouth went dry, eyes widening, your knees nearly giving out and dropping you on the dirty floor of the venue.

It was Bill fucking Kaulitz, the emo boy you made a whole song about. The song in which was leaked and slapped on every article with your name in the title. You were so happy that the lighting covered the blush that warmed your face. He leaned down, lips brushing you ear, hand still wrapped on on your wrist.

“Hey, I’m Bill.” His hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, he could smell the faint scent of your perfume, it was intoxicating. “I like your music.” He pulled away, a smug smirk on his face as you swallowed the lump in your throat. His accent was much more hotter in person then it was in the interviews you watched on TV.

“T-Thank you.” You replied, but he simply gave you a confused look. You sighed, attempting to reach his ear, “I said thank you, I like your music as well.”

He nodded, “Thank you, it seems as though one of your songs has gotten quite popular, people have told me all about it.”

You needed to pull yourself together, this was a moment you’ve been waiting for and you couldn’t back down. So you rubbed your lips together, spreading the shiny, sticky gloss. You gazed up at him through your lashes, a flirty smile on your face. “Yeah, I was hoping you’d say.”

“Yeah?” He raised a pierced brow, “Why’s that?”

“You’re the only one I wrote the song for, of course.” You giggled, watching his expression change, he was surprised on how upfront you were about it. You were proud, cocky almost, it turned him on. “So, did you like it?” He nodded in response. “You wouldn’t mind doing what the lyrics say, do you?”

“No.” He replied, watching your smile widen. “I can take you back to my hotel and do exactly what you want me to do, schatz.”

You were getting giddy, you running a hand up his arms, staring up at his smoky eyes with lust. You bit your bottom lip, “Can you kiss me?” A small smirk played on his lips as he leaned down, leaving a slow kiss on your lips. Your hands were on his cheek, leaning up and desperately kissing his lips. His hands wandered, feeling you up in the tight pink dress you were in. Though his same hands seemed to favor a spot in particular, you ass, they ran up and down your sides before they eventually planted themselves there. His head was titled to the side, neck curved down to reach your height and to continue kissing your additive lips. He pulled away, lips sticky with you gloss before he trailed it down to your jaw and neck, his cheeky hands squeezed the flesh. You gasp, allowing him to suck lightly while the music blasted in your ears but it was all tuned out as you focused on the sensation of his tacky lips kissing your skin.

You were most definitely gonna fuck this emo boy tonight.

Y’ALL WANT A PART TWO W SMUT? Either way I’ll probably write one bc this game out better then I expected🤭🤭🤭

#bill kaulitz imagine #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #hey emo boy #bill kaulitz fic #bill kaulitz x you #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #bill kaulitz smut #Tokio hotel imagine #fluff

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