#i am trying SO hard to get a full time job to escape this place. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itsfairly · 7 months

Text

Illicit Toasts // 1920s!Nanami Kento x F!Reader

Summary: The prohibition of alcohol didn't stop people from getting their hands on it. It only made them find places where they could get their fill of giggle water in illicit establishments filled with booze, music, and social life. For Nanami Kento, however, alcohol was merely an excuse to visit this speakeasy. Yet, he did go to that place to get his high on something, someone else.

Word Count: ~5.1k

CW: 1920s AU (focused on the prohibition era), fem!reader, singer!reader, strangers to lovers (kinda), fluff (kinda), pining kento, mentions of alcohol, alternate between 3rd person and 2nd person.

A/N: first, you can find the artist of the fanart here! second, there is no doubt in my man that my man would look amazing in the 1920s aesthetic, look at him. i was thinking about this for a while and the covers from the postmodern jukebox helped. am i thinking about writing more about this AU? maybe, especially if people are into it. 1920s! Nanami Kento, you will always be famous.

Just what was he doing here? Coming back and pretending it was just for some booze that he could easily stash at home with the promise of some quietness and privacy?

Nanami didn’t know the answer. As he puts his wallet into his coat, he tries to think of one with no avail. He didn’t know why his feet kept walking towards that damned speakeasy as if it were a part of his routine. It felt as if his body got the best of him despite his mind telling him it was a bad idea to come to a place like this as someone of his reputation.

He was wealthy, had a nice job, a status that put him high on everyone’s list on his appearance alone. He felt like he was risking it all by just coming here. Nanami had the means to contact a bootlegger and get that alcohol he used as an excuse to come here. A bar that could get raided at any moment and put him in jail by just being there. It would be his ruin if that were to happen.

No money.

No job.

No status.

But despite it all, he still walked towards that door. Knock. Knock, knock. Knock. Knock. A pattern he memorized the first time he came here when a friend of his implored him to accompany him for a drink. Little did he know back then how much he would play this rhythm against the rusty door with a dimly lit room behind it, full of chatter, drinks, and entertainment for those who were willing to risk it.

Funny thing is that, though Nanami is a heavy drinker, he is a loner at that. Those extravagant parties held by people of his status were too luxurious for his taste, he only attended them to keep his connections intact and for the promise of booze. He much prefers to drink in the comfort of his own home. No superficial conversations. No drunks trying to flirt with him or overstep his boundaries. But to drink for the joy of it rather than to survive the event.

He was about to turn around after questioning why he kept coming here when the door opened, a voice greeting him into the bar. It reeked of the smell of old wood, strong liquor, the dreaded tobacco smoke, and the light colognes and perfumes mixing together as they escaped out the door and into his nostrils. It was a last warning. Though he was still standing at the foot of the door, he could still change his mind and leave to get his fill back home. The unique smell reminded him not only of what awaited him if he entered but also brought a sense of tension. Was all this secrecy and feeling of rebellion against a law that prohibited some fun worth everything he worked so hard for?

But that warning fell on deaf ears. Ears that were busy welcoming the real reason he was coming back in the first place. It was not the alcohol, it was never the reason why his body walked the streets until he reached this door. It wasn’t a taste or a smell. It was a sound and a sight.

It was the pretty singer who held her own against the band and rose above the chatter as more than mere background noise to fill the air.

You.

He still remembers the first time he saw you on that stage. He could barely understand what his friend was talking about when they brought him here. He was busy looking at you and hearing the pretty voice that captured his attention the moment he walked in. You didn’t seem to mind the fact that people were too caught up in their own conversations or the delightful buzz their whiskey and bourbon brought instead of hearing the music. But to him, it was the complete opposite. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, take you off your mind nights after seeing you for the first time. You brought him a high no liquor had brought before and you don’t even speak to him. You were just doing your job, a living by singing in this dimly lit bar full of patrons breaking the law. You were the star of this speakeasy.

Tonight was no different.

Your voice stood out from the chatter that filled the room, dripping in a silky passion that lured him into stepping in and taking a seat at the bar. It was obvious you weren’t performing for anyone but yourself. The way you sang each song, each lyric, was intoxicating to Nanami. It was like a spell that drew him in further into this attraction he felt for you. It was always such a raw performance he could only describe as passionate and immersive. He could hear how you felt every emotion from your voice alone. Vulnerable, intense, alluring. To think he could list everything he heard in your voice would be an impossible challenge he would gladly take.

But your looks came along and he knew it was over. Your performance was more than just your voice, but also the way you moved. You were a temptress, sensuality in its purest form. Swaying side to side at the rhythm of the keys and strings, almost as if your hips marked the tempo for everyone to follow. But you were more than that. It wouldn’t be fair to see you as sex-on-a-stick that others had reduced you to. Not when you had this bright and cheerful smile on your face every time he saw you on that stage. Or when you did these little gimmicks with your gloved-covered hands that always captured his attention as you acted the lyrics. One thing was certain: the way you looked and performed told him you were having the time of your life up there.

He could see it in your face alone. Your face, your angel face that told him how much fun you had when singing. It was as if you were one with the music and wanted to keep it that way. Showing each and every emotion of the song as if you wrote it yourself. Dancing and acting as if no one was watching. He admired that. It drew him into you. Authenticity was written all over you, displaying so many parts of you and showing this energy of yours that made you much more complex than anyone in his class.

There was no doubt. You were a performer through and through.

But to him, you were this enchantress. Seduction follows your every move and sound. You looked so confident, so comfortable on that stage surrounded by liquor and smoke that others were so distracted by, missing the real deal. The straight loose dresses you wore with fringes and beads that moved with you, the pearls that added an elegant touch, the gloves that covered your skin, the t-strap shoes that clicked with every step, and that makeup that wrapped everything together.

You looked like a doll, shining in the spotlight and surrounded by this lively and strong aura he couldn’t help but be attracted to. So addicting like the glasses of whiskey he drank, but much sweeter.

As another number came to a close, you bowed at the audience. Even if you didn’t receive much applause, you didn’t care. You know what comes with being an entertainer at these places: barely any recognition and a lot of cons such as getting arrested for even being here. But you loved it. The ambiance was calm, nothing too crowded or loud to keep the place safe from a police raid; the lights added a sense of secrecy and sensuality that you were all in for, and the best of all, the pay. Jobs like this were hard to come by, those that paid you to do what you liked.

Even if your day job brought you a lot of tension and stress, it was this gig that allowed you to shake those feelings off and let loose. Shine like the way you were supposed to, be treated like a person and not a number or some airhead. Sure, you were often shaken off as part of the background of a rebellious experience that people were quiet about. But it was tit-for-tat—go through hell by day and live the crème de la crème at night. No family to control you, no boss to scold you for no reason, and no judgemental looks for not being a mother or married.

You looked back at your band, clapping at them for their performance so far with a bright smile. You quickly excuse yourself, asking them to play a few songs without you as you go and fetch yourself something to drink. All this smoke made your throat dry, which was a no-no for a performer like you.

Making your way to the bar and asking for a light drink—the bartender’s choice being a bee’s knees—you notice a blond man with his elbow resting on the bar. You looked at him, instantly seeing the signs that he was of a higher class than the usual patrons. Tailor-made suit in a pristine condition fitting him perfectly, the material looking expensive from how soft it looked alone. Handsome face free of facial hair, his skin probably as smooth as one can be, something not many had the privilege of due to tight schedules or lack of resources.

The drink was a dead giveaway. From the looks of it, it seemed to be whiskey neat. Most people opted for the much cheaper beer, not for something like whiskey. Let alone neat and not on the rocks. It told you it was someone who had the privilege of drinking enough to be able to handle the harshness of it and its expensive price.

Not only that, but the drink seemed unattended as told by the way his hands were further enough from the glass. People normally downed their drinks if they were alone, the lack of another glass near him told you he was probably on his own tonight. But no. He didn’t seem in a rush to drink or be accompanied by someone. He was alone at a bar with a drink he hadn’t sipped from during the alcohol prohibition. What are the odds?

You think of starting a conversation with the man, intrigued about him, when the bartender handed you your drink. You smiled at them, thanking them for their service as you took the glass by their stem and brought it to your lips. Honey, lemon, and most importantly, gin invade your mouth as you taste the forbidden drink. Sure, alcohol isn’t the best thing to drink when performing a set, but it’s not like a sip once in a while hurt. Especially with how hard it is to get these drinks when one doesn’t have the means, working at a speakeasy seemed like a blessing.

Your thoughts are interrupted before you set the glass down, the blond at your side snapping you out of them with his velvet voice. It was a few words, but they were enough to detect a certain elegance that matched his appearance. Modesty and opulence easily summarize your impression of the man before you.

“Your performance was lovely.” He said nonchalantly, turning his body to face you as his hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey.

It’s not like people didn’t compliment your singing. They did…once they were drunk or when they were seeking attention. But compliments from someone who looked like him? Sure, he sounded casual about it and it almost made you think he was being sarcastic. But when you turn to look at him, ready to give him your usual “you can give it a go if you want” answer, you see that he was being genuine. He was waiting for a response patiently, his thumb caressing the side of his glass. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place, it seemed like nerves but there was no reason to feel like such.

You flash him a small smile, nodding your hand towards him. “Thank you, I’m sure it would’ve paired so well with your drink. Shame that it seems unattended.” He looked at you puzzled, looking down at the drink in question before turning back to you. “I was not aware that one could pair alcohol with performances. Especially with everything going on right now.” “Then you’re missing quite the opportunity. Neat whiskey? Jazz and blues pair up well with it, which is our set for tonight. You’re lucky the band is still playing as we speak, you can still enjoy the combination of taste and sound.” You smile, looking back at the band and then back at him.

He wastes no time to take in your silence as an invitation to try the multi-sensorial experience. You see him swirl the liquid in the glass, the piano and trombone standing out from the band of instruments, and then taking a sip as he lets the alcohol wash over his mouth to savor it.

He chuckles, his brows jumping once in delight as turns back to you. You raise your eyebrow, now waiting for his response.

“My first thought when pairing alcohol is usually food. I’m afraid I’ll have to start thinking about what I will be doing when drinking a certain drink.” He says, his eyes showing that delight when he turns to you.

“Hopefully you keep that idea long after you leave this place. It’s quite fun to pair things with others we haven’t thought of before.”

“Really? Is your drink especially paired with your performance tonight?”

You look down at your own drink, taking it into your hand and bringing it to your lips for a small sip. You nod at the taste, the fresh taste of gin swirling on your tongue while the smooth run of the trombone plays in your ears.

“Absolutely.” You say with a small chuckle.

The man before you decides to stand up, pushing the stool back as he does. He turns his body to face you completely, a soft and calm expression decorating his face as he looks at you in what could only be curiosity. But this one is different from the curious looks you usually get. It’s not perverse or mere amusement. It’s as if he’s finally living a moment he thought of for a while, a moment he thought would never happen. It’s different and unexpected, sure, but it’s new. His expression almost leaves you breathless, now becoming curious as well.

He extends his hand to you, his eyes never leaving your face as a blink-it-and-you’ll-miss-it smile decorates his. Though others would think his expression is firm and stoic, his eyes tell you otherwise just like his voice does. That velvet voice of his drips from his lips once more.

“Kento Nanami. May I ask for your name, miss?”

Your name sounds just like the melodies you are so used to singing on the stage. It is a smooth and harmonious sound that goes easy on his ears when you say it. He couldn’t fight the smile on his face for long, showing it for a second as he felt you reach out to his hand and shake it. It was only for a second, but it was enough to know how dangerous you were becoming to him.

With your hand on his, he turns it around and kisses the back of it like the gentleman he is. It’s soft and gentle, not wanting to come off strong as if you’re only an object to him. You weren’t and he wanted to treat you with the respect you deserved. Nanami’s lips soon leave your gloved-covered hand but his hand still holds you carefully, looking up at you with gentle calm eyes.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.” He says, sure that if he were to say your name it wouldn’t sound so angelic like you say it. He drops your hand near your lap, careful to not be so harsh the moment he lets it go.

Shaking him up like this with only your name? He never planned for you to have this effect on him, let alone this quickly. He never thought he would be drinking next to you, finally having a name for that gorgeous smile that shined on the stage. He didn’t think life would be able to bring you two together even if it was for a few minutes.

Your voice was as pretty when speaking as it was when singing, the sound of your name sounding like every other night you performed on that stage. He couldn’t help but repeat it out, lucky enough to play it off as if he was just checking if he heard you right. That in itself was an irony considering all the trouble he went through every night he wanted to hear you sing.

And now he was hearing you speak to him.

The band playing as the rest of the speakeasy melted away and it was only you in his view and ears. You were an arm’s away from him and it was a chance he had to take, at least to compliment your performance. Not just of tonight’s but of every night, even if he wasn’t there to hear it. Soon that compliment led to small talk that then led to presenting each other. Now here he was, immersed in the casual conversation between you two.

No stocks, no gossip, no work. Just chit-chat in which he didn’t need alcohol to push through it like he does at big events at work or with people he’s forced to spend time with. It was talking for the pleasure of it. Something an introvert like him found reserved for certain people. But here you were, able to sneak past that detail of his and put him at ease despite all the giddiness he feels inside him from finally being able to speak to you.

You didn’t seem that much different off-stage. You were lively, charming, and able to hold your ground. But you were also much calmer, casual, reserved even; though not to the extent he is. It simply confirmed to him that you were a hundred percent yourself when you were performing, authentic to yourself even if you weren’t showing all parts of yourself. You still had that welcoming energy in and out of the stage.

Your body was facing his just like he was facing yours as you two sat at the bar with your drinks. He was finally taking sips of that ignored whiskey long after he ordered it while you had allowed him to take up your small break. It wasn’t the most interesting conversation in the world, to be frank. But if any of his friends saw him at the moment, they would know Nanami was hanging onto every word you said.

“I’m more of a hermit.” He starts, setting his drink down at the bar. “I do drink with friends and explore these speakeasies, but I much rather enjoy a drink in the comfort of my home.”

“Oh, so you’re able to afford that luxury of owning alcohol?” You smirk at him, tilting your head towards him. You sigh, relaxing your shoulders with your hands on your lap. “Although, I understand. I get overwhelmed in crowded places and would drink privately if I could.”

“Overwhelmed? A singer?” He raises an eyebrow at you. He wasn’t teasing you or being sarcastic by any means. He knows it could come off that way, but he was intrigued. You seemed comfortable when you sang, dancing around as you became one with the music and the world disappeared.

“It’s different!” You laughed softly, bringing your glass to your lips. “I like singing and people don’t really come to these places looking for music. They come for this.” You gestured to the wall stocked with all kinds of liquor, a quantity that could lead everyone working at the establishment to be imprisoned. It’s a wonder the police haven't found this place, neither of you would be here at the moment conversing. “I am just part of the experience but not the main attraction. That lets me act like there’s no one around.”

Nanami nods. Though he completely comes to this bar for the opposite reason, he can see how it is easy for you to shake off the nerves and get behind the microphone. If you were only a prop that added to the illicit and almost seducing ambiance for people to drink in, then you could let loose and not many people would remember it. That and because some drank to the point of blackout.

“I see, not much of a people’s people, are you?”

You shrug your shoulders, pursing your lips. “I like the stage, I like to perform. I don’t mind people, but sometimes it can be too much to have all that…energy at all times.”

Nanami chuckles, knowing that feeling too well. Sure, he wasn’t a performer like you. But he had to deal with numerous people at work, at social events, and in his everyday life. Be polite, never turn down a conversation too quickly, talk about the work he hated, pass time with people who only saw him as a walking wallet or an eye candy, and live up to his status’ expectations…he was much more comfortable with his privacy.

“I understand. Guess it’s part of work, is it not?”

You nod, a sympathetic smile coming to your face as you bring your drink close to your lips. “Part of life to be honest.” But before you take a sip, you knit your eyebrows as you look down at it. You turn your attention back to Nanami, lifting your drink in the air with a much more genuine smile, and say, “Cheers, for being able to hold up for this long.”

He feels the same giddy feeling from earlier creep up to him again, shaking them off as he takes his glass and clinks it with yours gently. He cheered for other things all the time. This shouldn’t be any different just like giving a compliment to a stranger.

Maybe it is because this time is much more genuine than all those times he had to tolerate rather than celebrate.

“Cheers then.” He hums. Pulling the glass back and lightly raising it towards you, he savors the strong earthy notes of his whiskey. He has tasted this flavor before many times, but tonight, the bitterness felt much less overpowering thanks to your presence.

Much to his disappointment, the moment is cut short when your head turns towards the stage. He looks in the same direction, the cello player throwing his head back to signal you that you need to come back for the next set of songs. You sigh, slowly standing up from your seat with the drink still in hand.

“Duty calls.” You hum, looking at Nanami with a gentle smile. “This was fun. Maybe you should start sitting closer to the band rather than being all the way here.”

Nanami knits his brows, confused and intrigued by your insinuations. Before he can ask about what you mean, you quickly jump in to clarify it yourself.

“I get on that stage almost every night, I would be a poor performer if I didn’t recognize my audience.” You take a last sip of your drink, placing it on the bar for the bartender to take it away as you thank them with a smile.

Nanami feels his heart race. He didn’t know he had come so much to the point that you recognized his face. He thought he would pass unnoticed on each of his visits, becoming a wallflower that no one would interact with but the bartender. Looks like he was wrong. You of all people noticed him.

He takes a quiet deep breath to calm his speeding heart, his face facing you completely. It could be the whiskey talking, the liquid courage guiding this whole interaction that he thought would never happen otherwise, but he decided to take the chance and say.

“I’ll make sure to get the best seat.”

“I’ll make sure to save it for you.” You answered back, a soft chuckle escaping you.

You take a few steps away from your seat, slower than when you were coming from the stage to the bar. You then turn your head to look back at Nanami, hands coming together in front of you.

“You should get gin if you come next week. We’ll play swing and I find the combination quite wonderful.”

Nanami hums, the smallest of smiles escaping his stoic front as he looks at your polite and fairly demure behavior. He notices the ways your eyes grow shy as you wait for his response, understanding that it is an invitation to come next week.

“I’ll get gin then.” He assures you, his heart beating quite hard now despite the tranquil effect whiskey always has on him.

You smile. A bright smile that could have brightened this dim speakeasy on its own. You nod as you add, “Thank you for the chat, Mr. Nanami. Don’t be a stranger, please.”

And with that, you turn back to the band, a light pep on your step as evident by the way your dress’ fringes jump.

Nanami turns back to the bar, looking down at the empty glass before him and then at the glass you were drinking from. He sees the bartender take both away and asks them for another glass of whiskey as jazz begins to play again.

His feet once more guide him to you, walking through alleyways and empty streets long after the sun had set down with the moon and stars keeping him company. His mind is much quieter this time than the last, now aware that logical questions and should-statements were impractical to ask when it came to this new habit of his.

As he walked on the street that had the downward stairs that guided him to the seemingly unsuspicious door in the neighborhood, he was greeted with the sight of a few police officers who appeared to be heading to the same place as him. They were quite the number and Nanami knew what it meant. The warning that his heart was sending through his veins caused his steps to speed up to the policemen, gulping any sight of uneasiness down before he spoke up.

“Gentlemen, evening.” He bowed his head at them, his tone ever so neutral at this moment as if this were just another negotiation he did every day at work.

The men turn to him, inspecting his appearance before saying a thing. They bow back at Nanami with one of the policemen taking a step forward to him and taking out his badge for him to see.

“Evening, sir. I’ll have to ask you to evacuate the area, we’ve received reports of illicit production and sale of alcohol in this area and we will enforce the law on everyone at the establishment. A law-bidding civilian like yourself should save the trouble of witnessing such enforcement.” He warns, acting all high and mighty with Nanami as if they hadn’t met before.

Nanami takes a step forward to the policeman, digging out his wallet and pulling out a couple of bills that he then keeps in his hand. He smiles politely at the man.

“Officer, I appreciate the warning. I am afraid that there are no such activities in this area. I want to save you the trouble of wasting your time so you can be able to enjoy your evening as well. After all, there is no issue with enjoying yourself, is there not?”

Nanami reaches for the man’s hand, pretending to shake his hand as he places the money in the palm of his hand. To anyone walking by, this is just a citizen thanking and warning the law. To them, it is just business.

The officer smiles at Nanami, hypocrisy slipping through in the smell of cheap beer as he nods. He turns to the rest of the policemen, telling them that they got false input and that they should just head to their usual patrol around the north side of the city. The men bid farewell to Nanami, silently thanking him.

Nanami sighs once they are gone, leaning against the staircase fence. They were the same officers as last week, he isn’t stupid. The condescending tone alone told him that much. He is lucky he has a good job. Otherwise, he would have to buy cheaper alcohol if he kept using his money to bribe the cops away from there.

After a few minutes, Nanami walks down the stairs to the door that would’ve been busted open had it not been for him. Knock. Knock, knock. Knock. Knock. The pattern that is now ingrained in his body makes his heart race in anticipation. He walks in, almost sitting by the bar as he remembers your words from last time when he sees an empty seat for one closer to the band. You weren’t kidding last time…

Nanami walks towards the said seat, still a bit further from the stage since it is set by the wall. But as he sits, he notices there’s a reason why you specifically save this spot. He notices you recognize him, your smile beaming while you’re performing the swing set you mentioned last week. It was a clear and unconstrained view of the singer. No chairs in the way, no paths that others could take that would block the view for either of you, and no light that shone too brightly on either of you that would make it seem as if you were just a flash of light. It truly was the best seat.

But what made it better was the fact that you kept looking at him during your act, catching each other’s eyes without a doubt in mind that it was him you were looking at. No one else.

His heart races, more than it has ever before at this speakeasy. It wasn’t the thrill of drinking his negroni that contained the gin that was so prohibited at the time. It wasn’t bribing the law and breaking it. It wasn’t the girls that looked at him and tried to flirt with him. None of that made his heart race and the drink wasn’t helping ease that feeling down.

As he realizes the reason for his heart practically beating out of his chest that it would have run out of this bar from the sheer force, he looks at you. You, you, and only you as you swirl your pearls around your finger with a soft hum for everyone to hear. Maybe you were just, if not more addicting than the giddy water he drinks.

Nevertheless, there was one important difference. He can quit the booze, but not you.

165 notes · View notes

lovejosephquinn · 8 months

Note

"You look so good with my hands around your neck."

I am BEGGING 😭😭🙏

Congrats on 2.5k!!🥰

Joe's hand seized itself against your throat as he rutted into you at a hard pace, balls slapping up against your ass cheeks as you lifted your face upward slightly to regain some oxygen flow from your lungs. Chanting out profanities, Joe was towering above you, his eyes burning through your irises in a real intense stare, he had already told you to keep his eyes firmly planted on his, to look at him as he fucked you into tomorrow.

"God damn it." He panted onward. "You look so good with my hands around your neck." Joe whimpered, his cock twitching against your walls which tightened around him with every thrust.

You couldn't quite catch your own moans flying out of you as tears escaped from the corners of your eyes, each pounding you received better than the last which had snapped your core into submission at least three times in the last twenty minutes. You were almost spent, unable to take anymore and he enjoyed forcing it upon you to give him that little bit extra each time. Each tear represented a feeling that was being ploughed into your system, sending your heart rapidly beating out of time, the blood inside of you heating up, your back arching partially from the ache and sensitivity but also the sheer pleasure.

"Aw baby, are you crying because I fuck you so good?" Joe bit down on his bottom lip, almost getting a kick from the way you continued to stare whilst you physically sobbed in his grip which with pure excitement was tightening harder, fingers moulding through to the veins bulging at the sides of your neck.

"You take me so well darling, letting me use you until I want to stop." It was true, you looked like a rag doll used essentially for his own sexual frustration, you didn't mind, it really got you going when he had his dominant head on and you were happy to oblige with how or whatever he wanted to do in that moment.

"You like it when my cock fucks you this good love?" You nodded quickly, trying to sweep an easier answer in silence rather than trying to even muster up a vocal one, after all your chords were practically being strangled by that of a familiar large hand, he was using you as leverage to be able to go as hard as he could, picking up his speed until he found a pace that felt the best. You were sent into a wave of shock, your multiple orgasms sending you into a beautiful oblivion.

"Fuck-" Joe cursed the profanity over and over and over again, your eyes trained against the darkened brown eyes that watched over you.

His thrusts became sloppy, your walls tensing around him making every muscle in his cock throb inevitably, his hand released from your throat making your own hand come up in its place to relieve yourself of the pressure put against it. The hand that once occupied one of your body parts fell against your left breast as he squeezed and brought his finger tips to pinch against your nipple, falling forward to plant a fierce kiss onto your lips.

Your eyes remained open as he pressed his body up, arms caging you underneath him, you could hear every squelch, every slap of his balls, every groan that rose from his throat, his demise was all to close and you ate every part of his enjoyment of it up, the tears still falling from your eye lids; glistening beautifully and clouded over.

He came to a stand still shortly after, emptying his seed inside of you, you could almost feel the way his cock pulsated, softening slow and collapsing almost his full weight on your body, chest falling and rising rapidly in attempt to ride out his own orgasm and calm down. Seconds passed and you felt his soft lips making a sweet job of giving a silent apology for causing the red restrained marks from his hand that was once wrapped around your neck, he left beautifully soft slurpy kisses against each bruised looking part, caressing you adoringly like he hadn't just been fucking the life out of you.

Joe fucked you well, but he looked after you even better.

#lana's 2.5k event #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn fluff #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn x y/n

180 notes · View notes

wrathofrats · 3 months

Note

Thinking about Aether and Phantom quintosis lesson. It's all going well and all, Aether's letting Phant explore his head on his own a little because he's actually really talented y'know! And then he hits a particular spot and Aether goes brainless, practically drooling on spot if yk what I'm onto...

Everyone always comes to Aeth to shut their thoughts up, but now he's on the receiving end for the first time in a whiiiile and he's just gone.

Just a big brainless quint :)

Shakes you violently because I’ve been thinking about this ever since I saw it

(Warning that this is a little dubious but consent is implied and implied to have been discussed prior, just didn’t want it to come out of nowhere in case someone isn’t up for that 🫶

Also I made it weird bc confident phantom has been on my brain recently)

Aether talks him through it. Takes phantoms hands and places them on either side of his head, covering them with his own.

He trusts him under his own supervision, able to step in if something were to go wrong.

It’s easy, to aethers surprise. Phantom being able to pick at different memories, emotions, doesn’t take long for phantom to start trying to control his limbs.

“Am I doing that?” Phantoms eyes light up when aether hand moves slowly to the side.

“You are bug, good job”

Aether thinks it’s cute watching him get so excited over his powers.

Different tour memories flash in and out as phantom practically rummages through his brain like a storage bin. His face muscles twitch while phantom drags over certain nerves. Quintessence can be a dangerous game in the wrong hands, the power to as you please to someone only to be trusted in the right hands.

A particular wave of fuzz washes over aether as phantom gets a little more confident with the electricity he has wrapped around his mind. He feels cloudy, it’s not unfamiliar but he knows exactly what phantom is doing considering he’s done it to the other ghouls countless times before.

“Bug…..” aether warns taking a deep breath. He feels like there’s cotton behind his eyes, his breathing becoming deep and more manual.

Phantom prods again. A sharp buzz in the base of his skull and it’s hard for aether to get out the words to warn him again.

Phantom understands what he’s doing, especially considering this form of mind control has been done to him before. it’s the only reason aether hasn’t removed him yet but it’s a helpless and almost calming sort of feeling, looking up to see phantom smiling at him with his magic completely taking over his senses.

“Please let me take care of you?” Phantom tips aethers chin up to look at him, the other hand caressing his cheek. Aether can feel just a bit more quintessence slip in as he nods.

He’s completely brainless, barely a thought besides what’s directly in front of him and a small attempt to keep his breathing normal. It’s all he can do to keep his vision straight, mind full of static and he can’t help but smile at phantom, giggling slightly. A comfortable mindless state of pleasure.

“Never been able to have you all stupid for me have I aeth?” Phantom teases. It’s light hearted in nature but god it does something to aether. He could practically drool if he really wanted to, phantoms light teasing enough to have him salivating. Something so delicious about being able to have your thoughts shut up and being taken care of, aethers been craving it for a while.

A delicate hand pushes its way under aethers shirt. Phantom looks for any sign of protest before lifting it off of his body and discarding it on the floor beside them. Aethers immediately handsy, giggly and trying whatever he can to get phantom back on him. His limbs feel like they’re full of concrete as he tries to reach up to pull him closer. Time moves slow, almost too slow for him with the idea phantoms put into his head of him doing whatever he wants to him.

Phantom makes quick work of his own clothes while aether chews his lip, small moans escaping as phantom strips in his lap. He’s easy like this, hard and stupid and just desperate for anything from phantom he can get.

“You’re needy when you’re like this” phantom teases, reaching for the buttons on aethers pants. “Big and stupid like a whore should be”

Phantom grabs aethers hand, pulling it around his waist to finger himself with it, “your fingers are thicker than mine, gotta stretch myself out to take you baby” phantom gasps as he pushes aethers fingers into himself

It’s a tight stretch, phantom working himself with two of aethers fingers guided by his own, if he’s not careful he could probably just use aether like this and cum in his lap but oh, he wants to see how bad aeth can get when he sits on his cock.

Aethers streams out incoherent pleas and curses as phantom finally pulls him out, stroking him a couple times just to hear him whimper

“Fuck you’re much better like this, dumb and useful, just a dildo for me to use right?”

#I have so many asks yall im fucking busting these bitches OUT #I am so very in love with this concept though #STUPID AETHER MY BELOVED #he’s such a good boy #also let phantom dom he deserves it #dom phantom can be so fun there’s so many possibilities #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #aether ghoul #phantom ghoul

138 notes · View notes

manias-wordcount · 7 months

Text

No Turning Back (Miruko)

Kinktober 2023 Day Fourteen: Spanking

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

“You’re getting ten. Is that clear?”

“Yes ma’am.”

It wasn’t quite the secret. But a little more than just a rumor. That the Rabbit Hero: Miruko got a little physical when disciplining any of her sidekicks that were misbehaving on the job. Of course, you had gotten wind of it once or twice. But who was to say that this so-called truth being spread around to all the other up-and-coming sidekicks, fresh to the business, weren’t just getting hazed by all the other agencies? Trying to keep newbies away from one place and attracting those same newbies to another. Who was to say?

“If you stop counting, I add three more. Is that clear ?”

Well, you can say a lot of things after being one of her sidekicks for just seven months.

“Yes ma’am.”

And the first thing is that the rumor you heard back then?

SMACK.

“ What number? ”

It’s true. Very, very true. But there’s no turning back now.

There’s no turning back ever .

“ One .” You respond back to her, eyes trained forward despite the fact that you want nothing more but to look back and see the very moment she raises her hand to strike you. Right now, your face still warm with embarrassment as your breathing starts to get a little heavy. Currently, you’re bent over a desk in one of the private office spaces. You think this room belongs to one of her longer-term sidekicks. But it’s hard to tell considering the fact that this building is only a temporary space that she rented out a couple of weeks ago now that her recently established agency was expanding. The room was still mostly barren. Barely any trinkets. Zero photos. Just a bunch of unopened boxes sitting in this corner and that corner and that corner. At least for you, that is a major plus. It saves you the embarrassment of knowing whose room this is all happening in. And it means that nothing is poking and prodding at your skin while you’re bent over the desk either. But most of all?

SMACK.

There’s no one here to witness you with the bottoms of your hero costume pulled down to your ankles as your boss takes her sweet, sweet time painting your behind with a nice and shiny red tint from the force of her slaps alone.

“ Two. ”

No one at all.

“I told you-” Miruko began, voice firm and still full of the same anger she had when she was chewing you out a couple of hours ago. It makes you grimace…and a little worried considering her anger had done nothing but simmer and stew for the time that the two of you were apart after your incident. But there’s nothing more you can do. You already tried to plead your case to her out in the field. But if she wouldn’t listen to your defense then, she wouldn’t listen to it now that you’re being bent over like some common whore. “Your focus should be on civilians and securing the perimeter only. Not to do whatever hell you want. Whenever the hell you want to do it. Am I clear?”

Trying desperately to hold in your moans.

“ Yes, ma’am ,” You respond to her again, trying your absolute hardest to not drop the honorifics while in such a compromising position. But your respect in this moment only earns you another SMACK to the bottom. One that sends you gasping silently and jerking forward as if you’re attempting to escape it. But as you mumble out a “three”, only to have to shout it louder when she hits you with an overtly threatening ‘ What was that?’, you find that the arousal you’re feeling in this situation is already growing to something a little “I’m sorry, ma’am,”

“Sorry doesn’t fix your fuck-ups, kid,” She shoots back with a bite before delivering another harsh couple of smacks to your bottom once more, all in quick succession. “ You’re going to have to beg harder than that to make me forget about all the shit you got yourself into. ”

While you know she knows she’s not using all her strength to punish you right now. You know because, despite the fact that your legs are shaking like crazy, your grip on the desk is turning your knuckles a little white, and the desk itself is still standing. You’re still standing. Lungs still working. Heart still breathing. And lips still being bitten like crazy as you swallow back another moan at the red-hot sting the contact leaves against your now feverish skin.

You were already embarrassed enough when you got the dressing down of a lifetime in front of everyone after today’s mission. In front of civvies and reporters and camera crews and the other sidekicks. But if you were moaning at the feeling of getting spanked by your boss of all people? You would never live that down. You would never survive long enough to live it down. So all you want to do now is lay low. To not embarrass yourself further. To take your punishment and to get on with your day. Maybe standing instead of sitting at your desk though. And maybe avoiding the break room in case she came in there too. In fact, there are so many things you could do to save the rest of your ass and get this punishment done with. Starting by counting out the rest of your spankings…

So you take another deep breath, and you steal yourself. You can almost feel your boss growing impatient at the way you’ve been sitting there almost silently save for your muffled sounds and reactions to your punishment. There’s not much time to waste. And you’re so close. So , so close to making out unscathed. So you count:

“Four, five, six, seven, eight-”

“ Eight ?”

And you fuck up. Royally .

“Wait! I meant to-” You rush out, turning your head to look back at her in a last-ditch effort to appeal. But it was already too late. Because by the time your head had begun to turn in her direction, she was already carding her fingers through the hair of the back of your head and taking a fist full before forcing your head down hard . “Boss, please I-”

“We’re at seven .” She bites back, and you can practically feel the snarl in her voice. Her grip on the back of your head- it feels bruising. You can feel the strength of her arms as she tugs at your hair and pushes your neck down and into the desk. You can still breathe. And you know you’ve been through way worse when you were a hero student, sparring with your friends who hadn't quite learned to pull their punches yet. But this situation is much different from sparring with a friend. This is getting disciplined. By your very attractive boss. This is getting punished. And your body responds to it in ways that you don’t want it to. But you can’t help it. You can’t control it. You’re still just a sidekick. You’re still just a human. So when the next slap comes? “This one- This one is eight.”

You don’t hold back. You can’t hold back. Instead…

“Ah~”

You moan .

“Oh? What’s this?”

She asks you a question, but you know she doesn’t want you to respond. You’ve been with her long enough to know this much at least. Because you know. And she knows. That you both know the answer. It’s a quiet, but very obvious moan. Drawn out and lewd. One that’s full of the pent-up lust you’ve been feeling ever since she ordered you to drop to come out of your bottoms. One that’s been filling to the brim and threatening to let go ever since her hand came into contact with your backside. And now that it has escaped you, there’s nothing you can do but bite your lip and plead the fifth. Refuse to talk. Refuse to answer. Because there is nothing you can do about it now. Nothing .

“Well…?”

Because there’s no turning back. Not with your recent history of fuck-ups. Not with your recent stroke of misfortune.

“If you’re not going to answer my question…”

But most of all?

“ ...then maybe I should just make you do it again to figure it out myself. ”

Not with your back to your opponent. Ready and willing to do anything it takes to survive…

“ Yes, ma’am .”

…except fight back against them.

70 notes · View notes

rebelwrites · 2 years

Text

Beach Days

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Maybe Summer Doesn’t Have To End Masterlist

Summary: you get a phone call you never thought you’d get but think nothing more of it as you spend the day on the beach with Charles and his family

Warnings: mentions of smoking/vaping

A/N this one is a little shorter than the rest

As always reblogs and feedback is highly appreciated ❤️ if you want tagging in future parts let me know ❤️

The house was quiet as you made your way out into the back garden with your coffee. For some reason you woke up far too early and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t get back to sleep so you pulled yourself away from Charles' warm body not wanting to wake him.

A happy sigh escaped your lips as the smell of the fresh coffee invaded your senses, everything was perfect. Leaning back on the sofa you let your eyes closed, relishing in the peace. Once again your mind started to wander thinking about what the future held, the thought alone left your heart racing. It could go one of two ways. The first way would leave you heartbroken but the second way would be a dream come true along with being able see Charles again and potentially seeing where things went.

“Chérie du matin. Morning sweetheart.” Pascale smiled, making you jump. “Sorry didn’t mean to make you jump.

“It’s okay, didn’t expect anyone to be up this early.” You smiled, tucking your legs under your bum as you held your coffee in both hands.

Pascale reminded you of your own mum, she was like a ray of sunshine and full of warmth. The way she accepted you with welcome arms filled your heart with love.

“What’s on your mind, love?” She asked softly, it was like she could read your mind.

“It’s silly,” you breathed, looking up at her.

“Nothing is silly if it’s got you questioning things.”

Taking a breath you thought about how to word your thoughts. “I guess it’s just not knowing if this is going to end in heartache or not. I never expect to feel what I feel for Char this quickly.”

“Love has a way of working out.” She smiled, squeezing your arm gently. “I see the way he looks at you and I assure you he is feeling the same. But the best thing to do is not worry about what could happen and just focus on what’s in front of you.”

Just as you were about to speak your phone started ringing, looking at the device with a confused look you checked the number.

Unknown

Your stomach dropped, at the thought of it being Ferrari calling.

“I’m going to have to take this.” You nodded, placing your coffee on the outside table before you quickly walked to the end of the garden.

Taking a deep breath you answered the call pulling your phone against your ear.

“Hi, this is Y/N.” You just hoped your voice didn’t sound shaking.

“Hi Y/N. I’m calling regarding your application regarding the social media manager. Have you time for a phone interview?” The lady on the other end said cheerily.

“Yes I do.” You nodded even though she couldn’t see you. “So tell me a little about yourself and why you want this position.”

Taking a deep breath you started explaining how you grew up watching formula one with your grandpa and how you never missed a race. You explained that you were currently out of work and wanted to pursue your dreams rather than being in a job you didn’t like.

“The idea of being part of a team is exciting, even if it’s not a role that’s a well known role such as working in the pit crew.” You said confidently. “I used to help run my last place of work social media page and I loved letting my creativity come out, I’m not afraid of taking and risk and trying something new.”

“Okay, thank you.” The lady said, there wasn’t anything in her voice giving her decision again. “From looking at your qualifications and previous experience it’s looking good but the only thing is your lack of languages.”

“I did think that would be a problem when I replied but I am currently spending the summer in Monaco with some friends and they are helping me learn French and the goal is to move onto Italian once I have got the basics.” You said trying not to let your nerves translate. “It’s a slow process but I am willing to learn and better myself.”

There was a brief silence before she spoke again.

“Okay, thank you for your time Ms Y/L/N. We will be in touch with you.” The lady said cheerily once again.

After saying goodbye and thanking her for considering you, you ended the call, gripping your phone tight as you tried to control your breathing.

You never even thought you’d get a phone interview, but maybe the universe was trying to tell you that things would be okay.

Looking up the garden you saw Charles walk out of the house wearing just a pair of sweatpants, his hair all fluffy and messy from sleeping. Your heart lurched in your chest as you watched him greet his mum with a hug. He looked so relaxed, like he had no stress about anything.

Slipping your phone in the hoodie pocket you slowly made your way over to Charles and Pascale. The moment you were within his reach he pulled you down onto his lap, kissing your cheek softly.

“Avez-vous bien dormi? Did you sleep well?” You asked, chewing on your bottom lip as you were pretty sure you messed it up.

Charles smiled widely, pressing another kiss against your skin. You were picking the language up fairly quickly and your accent was just the cutest.

“Best I’ve slept in a while.” He hummed, brushing his thumb across your bare thigh. “Where did you disappear to, I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“I woke up early for some reason and no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get back to sleep and didn’t want to wake you.” You smiled, snuggling into him.

Out of the corner of your eyes you could see Pascale smiling to herself watching you with her Son. She had a knowing look on her face, like she knew what the future held for the pair of you. Smiling to yourself as you ran your fingers down his arm until you landed on his bracelets finding yourself fiddling with them.

The morning soon passed on, none of you had moved from the outdoor seating area. Once again the banter was flowing between you and all three of the Leclerc boys.

Charles sat there with a smug look on his face as his girl kept up with his brothers.

He found himself still in the moment as he didn’t even question calling you his girl, it felt right calling you that even if it was going to be for a short time. Part of him thought about how a long distance relationship would work but with his schedule and travelling all over the world being in different time zones every week he knew it wasn’t something he wanted to put you through. So he was making most of the time he had with you. Leaning down he pressed a kiss against the top of your head and gently moved you off his lap and onto the sofa.

He made his way into the house, letting a heavy sigh escape his lips.

“Tu l'aimes n'est-ce pas ? You love her don't you?” his mum said softly, placing her hand on his shoulder.

“Je pense que je fais maman. I think I do Mum.” he finally admitted, just the mention of it caused his heart rate to speed up. “Je sais que ça va être dur de dire au revoir. I know it's going to be hard to say goodbye.”

Pascale smiled at her boy, cupping his cheek in her hand.

“Mon cher garçon, tu dois suivre ton cœur. Si c'est censé être, vous trouverez un moyen, même si vous devez la laisser partir pendant un court moment. My sweet boy, you have to follow your heart. If it is meant to be then you will find a way, even if you have to let her go for a short while.” she hummed.

Charles stood there in silence, watching through the kitchen window as you burst out laughing at something Lorenzo had said. The sound was music to his ears even though he was inside, his heart fluttered watching you with his family, it was like you belonged here, nothing was forced.

Smiling to himself, maybe his mum was right. If he was destined to be with you then the universe would find a way to make it happen.

There was nothing stopping Charles' heart from pounding against his chest at the sight of you in the red bikini. Thank god for his sunglasses shielding his heart eyes. Each day he found himself falling harder than he thought was possible.

The sound of your laugh made his heart sing, he would spend every moment he could trying to make you laugh. Laying on the sun lounger he watched Arthur chasing you around with a chunk of seaweed he found lying on the beach. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at how childish his younger brother was but he quickly turned his gaze back to you, letting his eyes roam across your exposed skin.

You could feel the fire Charles’ gaze was causing on your skin as you ran back up the beach, your chest heaving slightly from the physical exercise. Plonking yourself between his legs on the sun lounger you grabbed a bottle of water out of the cool, quickly chugging half of the liquid before putting the cap back on and swapping it for the elf bar you brought on the way to the beach. After having a long think about your health you decided it was time to pack smoking in but there was no way of going cold turkey so disposable vapes were the next best thing.

“You don’t like seaweed do you?” Charles hummed as he grabbed the bottle of sun cream, squirting some on your back making you jump at the cold sensation. But you quickly forgot about that when he started rubbing the cream into your skin.

“I’m scared of it.” You mumbled, embarrassed at your admission.

A small smile tugged on Charles’ lips, “we all have fears.” He whispered, pressing a kiss against the top of your shoulder.

“Hmm.” You hummed, letting your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of Charles fingers against your skin, quickly getting lost in the feeling.

“Allez les tourtereaux, rompez nous n'avons pas besoin de voir cette intimité. Come on lovebirds, break it up, we don't need to see this intimacy.” Lorenzo shouted, tossing a ball at the two of you. “It’s time to play.”

Charles smiled at your confused expression before pressing a kiss to your forehead, quickly translating what his brother had just said.

A smirk formed on your face as you grabbed your denim shorts from your bag tugging them onto your body. You didn’t want to have an embarrassing moment where everyone saw more than they needed to.

“Oh it’s on Leclerc.” You hummed, walking across the hot sand.

What Lorenzo didn’t know was how competitive you got, especially over volleyball. You didn’t spend years playing it with your family for nothing.

The hours passed and you quickly realised that you weren’t as fit as you were when you were younger but part of that might be due to the years of smoking and not going to the gym. Your body wasn’t used to this amount of exercise any more.

Resting your hands on your knees you held your head up trying to get some air into your lungs.

“Wanna give up Y/L/N?” Arthur smirked, hovering over you.

“Never.” You panted, looking up at him. “Mama didn’t raise a quitter.”

Before you could stand up straight you noticed Pascale was motioning her boys over. Watching them intently as they spoke in hushed tones, every so often glancing over at you. Ignoring the looks, you grabbed your phone from the sun lounger and snapped a selfie of you with the sea behind you quickly posted it on your Instagram stories. You didn’t think about what Charles had posted about spending the day on the beach, a boomerang of Lorenzo and Arthur playing volleyball.

Soon enough everyone was walking over to you, causing you to raise your brow at them.

“We best be going.” Arthur smirked, pulling you into a hug. “It was nice meeting you, hopefully we will see more of you.”

Smiling as you hugged Arthur, Lorenzo and Pascale.

“Don’t be a stranger dear.” She smiled, holding your cheeks in her hands.

“I won’t, I promise.” You smiled, feeling the warmth radiate from her. “Thank you for welcoming me into your family.”

She nodded without saying a word before pressing a kiss against your forehead.

Once they had gone you turned to find Charles smirking at you, holding his hand out. Instantly you linked your fingers with his feeling like you were home.

“What are you planning, Mr Leclerc?” You giggled as the two of you walked down the beach hand in hand.

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you.” He hummed, guiding you down to the dock where his yacht was.

Raising your brow at him he just threw you a wink before pressing a kiss against your forehead.

“Fine but if it’s a boring night I will be on a plane home.” You giggled as he helped you onto his yacht.

“Sweetheart we both know that there is never a boring night with me.” He smirked.

Neither of you had a clue that someone had spotted you on the beach and at the docks. A few photos that would be making their way around all the social media platforms creating a storm.

@chibsytelford @dragon-of-winterfell @ohthemisssery @a-distantdreamer @sgkophie @stillbreathin @angywritesstuff @miamedyu @enchantedbytomandhenry @scribbuluswrites @dangerouspursepeachbear @micks-afterglow @livo676 @buendiabebeta @pleasedontfollowinlost @ferrarifwendvale @hungryhungarian @theplobnrgone @charlesleclercje

#Charles Leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one

455 notes · View notes

munchmemes · 1 year

Text

fall out boy lyrics, so much (for) stardust edition

❛ what would you trade the pain for? ❜

❛ we were a hammer to the Statue of David. ❜

❛ we were a painting you could never frame. ❜

❛ you were the sunshine of my lifetime. ❜

❛ i'd never go. i just want to be invited. ❜

❛ every lover's got a little dagger in their hand. ❜

❛ there's no way off the hamster wheel on this rat race. ❜

❛ give up what you love before it does you in. ❜

❛ no matter what they tell you, the future's up for grabs. ❜

❛ is there a word for bad miracle? ❜

❛ we could dance our tears away. ❜

❛ it's open season on blue moods. ❜

❛ i guess i'm getting older 'cause i'm less pissed. ❜

❛ you put the 'fun' in dysfunction. ❜

❛ hold me like a grudge. ❜

❛ the world is always spinning and i can't keep up. ❜

❛ part-time soulmate, full-time problem. ❜

❛ i guess somehow we made it back with a few dreams of ours still in tact. ❜

❛ i got no map to my own treasure. ❜

❛ i thought i knew better, i thought it would get better. ❜

❛ i figured somehow by now, i would have got it together. ❜

❛ if you put your heart in it, then we'll do more than just get by together. ❜

❛ i'll call you up and demand you have no fun without me. ❜

❛ i make no plans and none can be broken. ❜

❛ do you laugh about me whenever i leave? or do i just need more therapy? ❜

❛ love is in the air, i just gotta figure out a window to break out. ❜

❛ i didn't take the love when i had the chance but i swear i'm not sad anymore. ❜

❛ we all started out as shiny dimes but we all got flipped too many times. ❜

❛ we did it for futures that never came and for pasts that we're never gonna change. ❜

❛ i will never ask you for anything except to dream sweet of me. ❜

❛ tell me, when the party ends, will you still love who i am? ❜

❛ save your breath. half your life you've been hooked on death. ❜

❛ be careful what you bottle up. ❜

❛ i closed my eyes inside of your darkness and found your glow. ❜

❛ shake things up and see what comes down. ❜

❛ i got this doom and gloom in my mind but i feel all right. ❜

❛ feeling so good right now 'til we crash and burn somehow. ❜

❛ i know i've made mistakes but at least they were mine to make. ❜

❛ all of my wildest dreams, they just end up with you and me. ❜

❛ let's drive until the engine just gives out. ❜

❛ i'll be whatever you need me to be. ❜

❛ i cut myself down to whatever you need me to be. ❜

❛ it's all just a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes. ❜

❛ i take pleasure in the detail, you know? a quarter pounder with cheese. those are good. the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain. a moment where your laughter becomes a cackle. ❜

❛ here i am, not sure you should take a chance. ❜

❛ i like playing dumb, letting you figure me out. ❜

❛ just another day spent hoping we don't fall apart. ❜

❛ let's twist the knife again like we did last summer. ❜

❛ i'm just trying to keep it together but it gets a little harder when it never gets better. ❜

❛ late at night in my room, i lie awake and think of you and all your little dooms. ❜

❛ last night, i dreamt i still knew you. ❜

❛ i carved out a place in this world for two but it's empty without you. ❜

❛ i've got all this love i've got to keep to myself. ❜

❛ all this effort to make it look effortless. ❜

❛ confront all the pain like a gift under the tree. ❜

❛ oh please, i can't be who you need me to be. ❜

❛ one day every candle's gotta run out of wax. ❜

❛ time is luck and i wish ours overlapped more or for longer. ❜

❛ but you know what they say, if you want a job done right, you gotta do it yourself. ❜

❛ what is there between us, if not a little annihilation? ❜

❛ i'm pretty sure as far as humans go, i am a hard pill to swallow. ❜

❛ i spent ten years in a bit of a chemical haze and i miss the way that i felt. ❜

❛ i felt you at the beginning but needed you at the end. ❜

❛ stop me if you have heard this all before. ❜

❛ oh, but you don't know me anymore. ❜

❛ that's the way, the world, it used to be before our dreams starting bursting at the seams. ❜

❛ we're out here and we're ready to livestream the apocalypse. ❜

❛ the view's so pretty from the deck of a sinking ship. ❜

❛ everything is lit except my serotonin. ❜

❛ everything is lit but my lightning bolt brain. ❜

❛ i just need someone to hold me even though you don't even know me. ❜

❛ what a time to be alive. ❜

❛ they say i should try meditation but i don't want to be with my own thoughts. ❜

❛ when i said 'leave me alone' this isn't quite what i meant. ❜

❛ bad news, what's left? ❜

❛ i'm in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now. ❜

❛ i feel like something that's been stretched out over and over again until i'm creased and i'm about to break down the middle. ❜

❛ the stars are the same as ever but i don't have the guts to keep it together. ❜

❛ life is just a game, maybe i'm stuck in a lonely loop. ❜

❛ we thought we had it all. ❜

❛ i need the sound of crowds or i can't fall asleep at night. ❜

❛ i'm pretty positive my pain isn't cool enough. ❜

❛ ache it till you make it. ❜

❛ i think i've been going through it and i've been putting your name to it. ❜

❛ i used to be a real go-getter. i used to think it'd all get better. ❜

#lyrics rp starters #lyrics starters #rp starters #lyrics rp meme #rp meme #lyrics meme #sentence starters #long post

180 notes · View notes

sophtnfull · 9 months

Text

imagine theres this nerdy guy maybe just turned 20 and is home alone and playing video games on his couch, its probably some sort of horny hentai game. after about an hour of playing the room starts to feel extremely warm, as if he were outside on a hot day.

hee takes off his plain shirt showing off his slight abs but overall skinny figure, next moment he finds himself shading his eyes as he is blinded by a sharp light and before he can comprehend what is happening a figure appears infront him. the guy tries to make out who this could be, the figure looked atleast 8ft tall with a strong muscular physique wearing nothing but a light golden robe barely covering their beauiful body.

"who the fuck are you and w- what are you doing in my house!" the figure just walks towards him and the guy cowers down on the couch in fear.

the figure bends down to look him in the eye and smiles saying,"you have been chosen, do not worry i will try make this as enjoyable as possible."

"im g-going to call the police!"the guy says, still in shock "if it is not knowing who i am that is the issue let me explain, i am the god of fertility and my job is to make sure the human race stays populated, obviously i do not come in person in normal cases but i was feeling particularly aroused lately and you just happened to be the first i laid eyes upon"

all of a sudden the man gets a strange feeling on his genitals leading him to immediately rip off his pants to see his dick is replaced by a cute boypussy.

the guy is shocked, scared and confused all at once but is too terrified to move as the god comes closer to him. the god lifts the man up by the hips and sits on the couch placing the guy on his huge lap, just sitting he could feel somthing hard throbbing beneath him.

the man realizes this situation and uses all his energy to escape but the gods grip on him does not budge "shh my boy relax, its important to save your energy" the god whispers in his ear

the god takes one of his fingers and sticks it inside the boys pussy, because its a new pussy its extremely sensitive and the boy winces in pain and lets out a small moan. "perfect" the god says as he rips off his own robe to show off his large thick cock.

not wasting any time he lifts the poor boy onto his large dick and gently slides him in, the god slowly starts to bounce the boy so that his dick slides in and out. it is so big that the boys pussy can barely handle it and as he looks down he sees a large bulge forming in his tummy everytime the gods dick is only halfway in him

"mm fuck" the boy says as he gives up and lets the pain turn to pleasure, the god slowly starts to pick up speed and he feels the god is getting more angsty and desperate as its face contorts into a frown. "are you ready?" the god whispers out of breath.

"yes!" the boy screams as his head falls backwards, the god still bouncing him moves him so that his back is facing the gods stomach. the next few minutes were bliss for both the god and the boy as the god bounces him at an unnatural speed and eventually the both of them orgasam at the same time.

the boy can feel somthing warm and deep fulling his pussy and he moans as it is so much that he feels as if hes eaten an extremely large meal."now let the fun begin" the god says excited and rubs the boys belly with his large hands.

the god starts bouncing the boy again and being so blinded by lust completely forgot what just happened and went on as before moaning and enjoying. but something felt different, he started feeling a sharp pain in his abdomen and assumed its the god just going deeper. a few more minutes of this the boy glances down to see his usually flat belly to have a bulge looking as if hes 6 months pregnant.

the guy looks around to see the god staring at his stomach as if in a trance, yet still bounces the boy up and down. the boy looks down again to see it looking even bigger, and as he does he realizes how much pain he is in, his skin stretching to make space for whatever is expanding inside of him.

three minutes later the boys belly looks overdue with twins and with every bounce his belly bounces with him, slapping against the gods thighs.

the god looks like hes in absolute heaven and finally starts to slow down and eventually lifts the boy off of him and sits him down on the couch. the boy instinctly grabs his huge belly and rubs it concerned

the god starts to get in his knees infront of the boy and starts gently licking around his belly and sticks fingers in his pussy that is dissappearing under the boys expanding belly.

the boy screams from a mix of pleasure and pain, the pain from his belly as it grows to around full term quads. by the time the god finishes to look at his work, he sees a boy legs split with a humongous belly in the middle with the rest of the boy looking sweaty and swore from everything that has happened.

the boy finally takes a good look at his belly seeing that the size looks like atleast 8 babies are stuffed inside and he starts feeling slight movements inside him and begins to see slight kicks but it slowly turns to full on contortion as the belly changes shapes and sizes, the boy screams in pain rubbing his large mound up and down to attempt to calm them.

the boy in so much pain he didn't notice the god disappearing, he immediately starts looking around anxiously and attempts to try stand up but as he lifts up his ass slightly it immediately falls back down from the intense weight and he screams, "DONT GO COME BACK YOU CANT LEAVE ME LIKE THIS"

he starts crying and then starts feeling a sharp pains in his tummy, not the type of pains as when his belly was growing but somthing more sinister.

he tries to stand again this time but holds onto the arm rest of the couch, he somehow stands but as he gains his balance he feels somthing warm falling between his legs..

he immediately falls to the ground clutching his belly and his head falling back as his body starts forcing him to push whatever the god put in him out.

the end~

#pregnancy kink #hyper pregnancy #mpreg #rapid pregnancy

56 notes · View notes

suwisuwii · 8 months

Text

Astarion's story made me think a lot and reflect on how freedom after a lifetime of captivity and abuse can be difficult to get used to. I think most people who have never experienced that don't realize how intense of an experience it is.

I might go into some details on my own life experience as a survivor of ritual abuse and human trafficking, I still don't know to which degree as I'm trying to organize a pool of thoughts, so scroll past if that's triggering to you. It's going to be somewhat lenghty.

I started really "living" around 3 years ago.

To give some context, the approximate timeline of what happened to me:

--- birth-18 y/o: grew up in a cult, I was ritually abused on a regular basis as a child, developed DID (I wasn't diagnosed until adulthood) I endured physical and psychological torture. I mean forced food purging, forced food poisoning, waterboarding, scalding with boiling water, smothering with pillows until I almost passed out... I could go on. I lived behind a wall in the living room and my wardrobe was a bin bag.

18 y/o: I ran from home after my father threatened to kill me. I was poor (I left with 50€ and nothing more) and answered an ad that offered a job in a pub and a place to stay. It required me to travel to another city, so I spent some of that 50 for the train ticket. Desperation makes you do some careless things. I was picked up by what would become my pimp (we called him "the entrepeneur" ). I travelled all across italy like that. Spent some days in a place and then was sent off to another. The day I escaped, I didn't know where I was.

19 y/o : I escaped! I had been sent to a new brothel, and noticed the club owner flirted with me the whole night in between customers. Once the night was over, I seduced him, stole some money and RAN.

The brothel was in the countryside, but I eventually found a bus stop. I got on and asked where I was.

19y/o to 28 y/o: I got into a relationship. Forced pregnant, had a child. Forced back into sex work because my partner took me to his home country and we were both unemployed and he had no intention of finding a job, 3 months after I almost died giving birth and had an emergency c-section.

---END TIMELINE

That has been my life up until 3 years ago. I'm 31 now. The pandemic gave me an out (won't go into details). I broke up with the guy. I ended up in therapy suicidal because I felt I had no purpose (not because of the breakup, I did it and it was my choice). I was free. It's all I wanted, right? I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY FREEDOM. I was useless. I still struggle with it. I remember the first time I went shopping for food and my mind went blank! I did not know how to shop for food I liked. I didn't know what to get. I always bought things for others. I always ate the scraps and the leftovers. It seems like such a silly stupid thing but once I was done and came home, I looked at my full fridge and I cried. I felt a mix of things. Guilt, selfishness? Also happiness, I was grateful. But freedom felt like such a big, black abyss with nothing to hold me from the fall. I am discovering who I am and coming to terms with it. I have bodily autonomy.

I think Astarion's scene with the mirror, where he looks in and can't see himself, holds a second deeper meaning other than just "a vampire that doesn't have a reflection".

I am now free to do whatever I want to my appearance. But I've always mirrored what other people wanted of me. Hair colours, clothes, style, makeup, weight. I was never in control of it. And now it's so hard to look in the mirror and know what I'd look like if I was me. I don't know. Who do I want to be? It's easier if someone else told me what I look like so I could just be that.

It felt good for Astarion to be "reflected in someone else's eyes" because he still doesn't know who he is. He can't see who he is, because he has been made a vampire. Because of what was done to him.

I hope I explained my point, but anyways, this was more for me, to let out some thoughts. It's 5am I probably have more to say, but I need some rest. I feel better letting some of this out.

#astarion #rambling #tw:#ritual abuse #violence #torture #abuse #child abuse #human trafficking #personal stuff #literally this is just me writing down some thoughts on why I can relate to astarion #and explaining what happened to me

51 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 12 days

Note

hi charlie!

to say the vibes have been off lately would be an understatement, wouldn’t it? because there has been a lot of negativity, too much for a place that is supposed to be about finding an outlet for your creativity and people to share your interests.

i know it has been difficult, draining to be around here and face all the discourse cankering the fandom.

because of all this negativity, i believe it is important to try and balance it out with some kindness. so here i am, doing a little check-up on you <3

so first, how are you, really?

everything you feel regarding what is happening is valid and you deserve to feel happy and safe around here. so please, make sure you take the time you need from posting, from sharing fics, even just from being on the platform. i want you to know it’s okay and i support whatever you decide, for whatever reason.

i also want you to know that you have your place here, as much as the rest of us. you’re loved and wanted and i can assure you the fandom is a far better place with you in it.

i hope you’re taking care of yourself outside of tumblr as well. please remember to stay hydrated and to eat something 🫶🏼

now i would like you to sit back and enjoy the perfect, quiet night in with joel <3

do not hesitate to reach out if you need to talk, i’m here for you! sending you all my love and so many hugs 🫂

anna 💗

Ahhh Anna, this is so sweet of you - thank you for taking the time to try and combat so much of the negativity on here by spreading some love - it's so important!

I have had so many thoughts about what's been going on lately, some of which I'll share here, but I'll put under a read-more so if you're not wanting to read discourse, you don't have to!

I'm going to go and enjoy my quiet night in with Joel, because that would absolutely fix me right now and thank you for sharing that with me. He's making me a cup of tea right now and is going to bring it to me, we'll watch TV and I will continue crocheting a blanket for us to snuggle up under!

Take care of yourself Anna, and thank you for always being kind and wonderful on here!

If you've been around here a while, you'll know that I rarely, if ever, get involved and wade into the discourse that floats around often. It's not because I don't care, it's because this blog has, and always will be, my way to escape the pressure of my real life. I have enough personal drama to contend with outside of the internet, and I very rarely want to allow it to bleed into the one space I have where I can escape for some peace.

That being said, it has become harder and harder for me to ignore the absolute storm of shit that has been swirling these past weeks. My friends and mutuals having their works blatantly stolen and then receiving hate when calling this out. People I look up to and whose writing I enjoy being attacked for presenting certain kinks. The insane rise in anon hate being spouted not just here, but across other sites as well. It's all too much and it all has to stop.

The people on this site create fic because they enjoy it. They graciously and selflessly write thousands of words for your enjoyment, for free might I add, without asking for very much in return. They write often around full-time jobs, school work and through personal and health issues. They agonise over making sure their work is as good as they can make it. They don't owe you anything, we don't owe you anything. We do this because we enjoy it, but the current climate on this absolute hellsite is making the enjoyment really fucking hard to find these days.

Be kind to each other. Stop hiding behind the cloak of anonymity to spew hate and be mean. Stop stealing other people's work. If you come across a fic that has warnings or themes that aren't your cup of tea, stop reading and walk away. Take a step back and think about what will happen if writers are continuously driven off this site.

#panda answers #tw discourse

9 notes · View notes

master-sass-blast · 14 hours

Text

Let's Call it a Draw -Part Two: Victory.

Part One

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika x Reader.

Rating: E for explicit sex.

Word count: 7.2k.

Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.

In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!

Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.

Happy Reading!

Your apartment is a moderate walk from The Last Drop; not too far to make the commute unbearable, but long enough that Sevika is able to walk off the last of her buzz on the journey over. (She’s secretly grateful for the jaunt, because the last thing she wants is to go into what’s coming with anything less than perfect clarity of mind.) Your unit is tucked into a series of samey, stone-faced, grime-coated buildings, near the halfway point between the Lanes and Entresol.

Even better, it’s about fifteen minutes from her apartment. She tucks that tidbit of information away for later as she follows you up two flights of wrought iron stairs.

When asked why you picked your particular unit, you shrug and slide your key into the lock. “Quiet.” You open the door, then motion with one hand for her to step inside first. “Private. Decent enough neighbors.”

Sevika shrugs in response, hanging back in the entryway until you turn on a light. “Good enough reasons as any.”

Your apartment is small –a single, sparsely furnished studio with one solitary window that boasts a splendid view of the side of the neighboring building and the metal fire escape stairs. A light, covered with a cracked glass diffuser, hangs in the center of the room. On the far wall, next to the window, is a galley kitchen with wooden cabinets. A bed, stacked atop a few pallets, is tucked against the wall opposite the kitchen –and it is, certainly, bigger than hers. There’s a wooden table and a single chair between the bed and the kitchen. A chipped dresser rests at the foot of the bed. There’s a door near the entryway that boasts a glimpse of a tiled floor and the reflective flash of a mirror on the wall –a bathroom.

Oh, honey. She can’t really judge. She remembers what it was like when she got her first place. Her job had paid shit, and her apartment had looked like shit in return.

Your place, however, is conspicuously clean. There’s no trace of dust anywhere. No dishes left to fester in the sink. The counters and floors are immaculately tidy. Even your bed is perfectly made. The coat you use during the colder months hang on a hook next to the door, and your spare pair of boots sit on a mat beneath your coat.

In sum, it’ll hardly be the worst place she’ll ever fuck in.

“It’s not–” You purse your lips, then duck your head and look away from her. “I don’t –I’m not…” You swallow hard, then mumble, “Not so good at decorating.”

“That’s fine.” She hooks her fingers through your belt loops, then tugs you until you’re forced to face her. When your gaze stays glued to the floor, she murmurs, “Baby, look at me.” It takes a few long moments, but when you finally look her in the eye, she says, “It doesn’t bother me. Okay?”

Something dark and flighty clears from your eyes. You lift your chin, lower your shoulders, then reach behind you and finish closing the door to your apartment. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now–” you turn away briefly to lock the deadbolt and slide the security chain into place “–but uh…” You swallow, then laugh quietly. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“You’ve been doing great so far.” Warmth unfurls in her gut when you perk up at the praise. She smirks, then uses her grip on your belt loops to gently draw you further into your apartment. “And I don’t mind taking things slow.” She grins when your gaze flicks from her eyes, to her mouth, to her chest, then back to her eyes. “Might make things more straightforward if I ask you a few questions, though.”

You nod. “Shoot.”

“You ever get yourself off?”

You laugh –a proper, real laugh that makes your eyes crinkle around the corners. Tension melts from your shoulders, and your face lights up like the sun. “I’m not a nun.”

Sevika hums in understanding. She takes a few moments to savor the brightness on your face, then continues. “What do you like?” When you blink blankly, she clarifies, “When you’re touching yourself?”

“Uh…” You look away, eyes wide with confusion. Your brows draw together, and you huff before shrugging. “Getting off? I…”

“I meant how do you prefer to get yourself off?” Sevika interjects. “Toys, fingers, penetration–”

Your hackles rise before she even gets “penetration” all the way out. Your mouth creases into a tight grimace, and your jaw locks. You swallow hard, gazing locking on the floor as you take a deep, bracing breath. You shake your head. “Don’t like penetration.”

“Alright.” She lets go of your belt loops and smooths her hands over your hips in small, soothing circles. “That’s alright.” She waits until you glance at her, then smirks and arches one eyebrow suggestively. “Still leaves me with plenty of options.”

You let out a small, choked whimper.

She grins. “How do you like to touch yourself?”

“Um…” You swallow hard, then follow with dazed, uneven footsteps as she guides you towards your bed. Your eyes stay locked on her –her face, her mouth, her body. “With my fingers.”

“How many?”

“U-usually two.”

The heavy, dark weight of your gaze and your ragged panting makes her ache. She waits for a moment, watches as you wet your lips with your tongue, then asks, “Where do you use your fingers?”

You let out a shuddering breath. “On my clit.”

She grins wider, then goes in for the kill. “Good girl.”

You whine. Your knees nearly give out, and you slump partway against her. A few stitches on the seams of her pants pop when your hands clamp down on her hips. “Fucking hell –Sevika–”

She kisses you. She grips the contours of your waist to steady you both, then sets about plundering your mouth with her tongue.

You whimper into her mouth. Your hands migrate upwards, until they find the gap between the waistline of her trousers and the hem of her top. Greedy fingers press against her skin, mapping out every exposed inch, then edge higher still as you slide them beneath the bottom of her shirt.

She shudders, then breaks the kiss with a wet pop. She admires your kiss swollen, spit slick lips for a moment, then looks up and drinks in your wild, ravenous, lust-heavy eyes. “Mind if I run something by you?”

“Go for it,” you say, voice gone to gravel.

She grins and rubs her thumbs against your waist. “I want to get you in this bed…” She nudges you gently, then pivots when you move so that you’re standing against the bed and she has her back to your kitchen. “I want to get you out of these clothes…” She presses on your shoulders, then clambers onto the bed and straddles your lap when you drop down on your bed. She winds her arms around your neck and looks you in the eye. “And then I want to use my mouth on you until you forget your name.” She smirks when your mouth falls open. “How’s that sound?”

“Yes.”

She chuckles, then kisses you again. She hums with approval when you grab her ass, then slides one hand into your hair. She tugs, then grins when you groan. “You didn’t quite answer my question, sweetheart.” She has to bite back a laugh when you look up at her with dopey, slightly glazed over eyes. “If there’s something you don’t want –or do want–then I want to hear about it.”

You swallow audibly, gaze locked on hers. “I –I like the sound of everything you said.” You slide your hands up her sides, callused fingers catching on the rough material of her shirt. You admire her body for a long moment, tracking the journey of your hands, then look back up at her. “Can –can you get undressed, too?”

She smiles and nods. “Sounds good to me.”

You exhale shakily, then lick your lips. “I want to get you off, too.”

Her smile sharpens with smugness and anticipation. “That’s fine by me.” She strokes her fingers through your hair, and her heart flutters when you sigh contently. “What else do you like?”

“I–” You shiver when her fingers graze over your scalp. “I like it when you touch me.”

She smirks. Easy enough. She drags her fingers down the nape of your neck. “What else?”

“Wh –when you–” You tip your head back to chase her touch. “When you tell me what to do. Makes me feel like I’m –like I’m not gonna fuck up.”

Like she was ever worried about that. “Guess it’s a good thing I like giving orders.” She smirks when you chuckle –but her mirth fades when she catches a slip in your expression. Your mouth pinches tight, and she sweeps her thumb over your cheek. “What is it?” Her eyes narrow when you duck your head and mutter under your breath, and she presses her fingers under your chin and tilts your head up until she can see your face. “Speak clearly, babygirl.”

You stare up at her with wide, glossy, reverent eyes. You swallow, jaw flexing, then breathe out, “I like –I like it when you tell me I’m good.”

Sevika grins. She’d already figured as much, but it’s so much more satisfying hearing you say it. “Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart.” She leans in, relishing how you tremble when she brushes her lips over your jaw. “Because you are so very…” She trails her lips down your neck, over your thundering pulse. “Very…” She licks the hollow of your throat, then finishes off with a graze of her teeth. “Good.”

Your fingers dig into her thighs as you moan. “Sevika–”

She presses her hands against your chest and pushes you back onto your bed. She follows you down, mouth attached to your neck, and murmurs a simple command into your skin. “Touch me.”

You do so quickly, ravenously. Your hands dig into her thighs and ass. You whimper into her mouth when she tightens her human hand in your hair, then your hips buck up against her when she tugs you head back and goes after your neck with her tongue. “Ohfuck!”

She plasters herself against you. Her tongue and lips and teeth trace over every inch of your neck, leaving no inch of skin unexplored. Arousal curls heavy in her gut as you shudder beneath her. She moans when you pull at her hips, causing her to grind against you. She rolls her hips against yours, then leans to one side and nips at your ear. “Good girl.”

A breathless whine leaves your lips. Your hands move up, up, up, until the tips of your fingers catch beneath the hem of her top.

She catches the hitch in your breath and pulls back to study your face.

You’re panting, lips slick with spit and kiss-swollen. Your gaze is locked in on the stripe of skin bared between her pants and her shirt. You drag your eyes up, over her chest, until you meet her own steady stare. Your throat bobs as you swallow. “I… Is this okay?”

“It is,” she assures you. She leans back, then reaches for the bottom clasp of her shirt with her right hand. She holds her hand there, not making to start undoing the clasps (which are designed to be undone with one hand, since her left catches on fabric too easily). “But it’ll be more comfortable if I take it off.”

Your eyes go dark and wide at the suggestion. You swallow again –then, hesitantly, lift one hand until it joins hers. “...Can I?”

Sevika smiles and moves her hand away to give you more space to work with. “Sure.”

You go slowly, but your hands are surprisingly steady. Gaze almost reverent, you work your way up each clasp until her shirt hangs open, exposing more dark skin and the fabric of her bra. You swallow hard when she shucks her shirt off and tosses it aside, then thumb the elastic band of her bra. “Can –is it –would you–”

Sevika merely smirks, then pulls her bra off over her head. The fabric thwaps lightly against the floor when she tosses it away, and then she gazes down at you like the cat that got the canary. “Better?”

All that comes out of you is a faint, strangled squeak. Your eyes jump up and down as you valiantly try to avoid ogling, only to lower back to her exposed chest.

She chuckles, then cups your face with her right hand. “You’re allowed to look.” She smiles down at you when you let out a shaky breath –then grins, all teeth and sly satisfaction. “I’d rather you did, considering I’ve got my shirt off and all.”

“Geh.” You sputter, half-formed words and grunts tumbling out, until your eyes finally wander down and stay there.

Sevika watches, unabashedly proud, as your lips part in dazed rapture. She holds still, lets you study and admire her bare skin and breasts.

She’s not necessarily voluptuous, by any means. The sheer physical demands of her life over the years has lent itself to the development of hardened muscle, not supple fat. Years of food scarcity (and money scarcity, for that matter) also means she hasn’t had ample opportunity to glut herself like the pigs up Topside.

She’s strong. Her body does its job, and garners the attention and attraction she wants. As such, she doesn’t spend time fretting about being “pretty” or more conventionally shapely –a good thing, since the explosion left a great deal of scarring over the left side of her chest and ribs.

Beauty contests are overrated, anyways.

So, it takes her off guard when you stroke the side of her waist and murmur, “You’re so pretty, Sev.”

She blinks a few times, lips parted in surprise. Then, out of instinct more than anything else, she scoffs. “That’s what everyone says to gal with her tits out.”

“No –it’s not–” You plant your hands on her thighs, then stare beseechingly up at her. “That’s not it,” you insist. “You’re pretty, Sevika.” You lift one hand and stroke the swell of her cheek with your knuckles. “I think you’re so beautiful.”

Her stomach flips. She swallows, suddenly light-headed, then leans down and kisses you again.

Callused hands smooth over her skin once more; you’re greedy, mapping out her abdomen and back. But you stall when your fingers graze the underside of her breasts. Your breath hitches against her lips, and your hands go still.

Without breaking the kiss, she takes one of your hands and presses it to one of her breasts. Amusement flashes through her when you let out a choked whimper, but it’s short lived as your touch lights her up. Mirth quickly yields to pleasure; she presses into your tentative touch, then groans against your lips when you squeeze her tit experimentally.

Enthusiasm seems to be all the reassurance you need. Your other hand envelops her other breast, and you squeeze and knead her chest with surprising gentleness.

She sets her agenda aside for now. As much as she wants to strip you down and break you apart until you’re a slick, sobbing mess, she doesn’t want to override your curiosity or confidence. She groans when you roll her stiff nipples beneath your thumbs in tight, circular motions. “That’s it –fuck.” She grinds her hips down against yours to try and appease her aching cunt. “Good girl.”

You whimper when she drags her teeth along the length of your neck.

She wanders lower, down to the collar of your shirt –but freezes when you take your hands off her tits. She leans back when you prop yourself up on your elbows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you pant empathically. “I just–” You sit up, then shuck your shirt and bra off over your head in one swift movement. You toss the clothes onto the floor next to your bed. Trepidation flashes across your face the second after the garments thwap against the wooden floor. You slowly turn your head and look at her. “Is… is this okay?”

Sevika grins, slow and hungry. “This,” she murmurs as she drapes her right arm over your shoulder, “is very okay, sweetheart.”

The grin you flash at her in return is pure, giddy joy.

You’re built a lot like her. Big, strong, with scars and a few prison tattoos along your arms and shoulders.

The more analytical, tactical part of her mind notes you’ve put on weight since leaving Stillwater. Her mind harkens back to early days of training with you, then cleaning up after in the gym showers after. You’d still been big, and built, but she’d been able to see your ribs while you’d changed shirts. Now, you’ve filled out nicely. You look like you’re actually eating, instead of starving on the prison rations.

She lays you back out on the bed, admiring you from above. She sweeps her right hand along the yoke of your shoulder and over your collarbones, skirting above your chest (for now).

Your eyelids flutter. You sigh, then latch on to either side of her waist and pull her down on top of you.

Skin contact is nice. She’s not usually the type to get up close and cuddly with most of her lays, but even she can concede that the sensation is pleasant. It runs the gambit of being soothing or exhilarating, depending on circumstantial context.

You gasp when her chest presses flush against yours. The bed creaks as you arch up against her. A broken, ecstatic moan falls from your open lips.

Sevika lets out a low, aroused groan in response to your excitement. She plasters herself against you, then busies herself in working her way down your neck and drinking in your unrestrained noises of pleasure.

She pauses long enough, just above your breasts, to ask “Is this okay?” Your immediate, ragged “Yes!” spurs her on, and she lowers her head to kiss your left breast. She slides her tongue over soft skin experimentally, mostly to gauge your reaction. Another open-mouthed kiss elicits a breathy exhale and some slight squirming. Satisfied, she moves lower, and gently wraps her lips around your peaked nipple.

Your responding sigh trails into a faint moan.

She cycles through a few staples –swirling your nipple beneath her tongue, rhythmic sucking, even carefully biting the stiffened bud. The last one gets the strongest response –a deep, broken, surging groan that she’ll be replaying in her mind for weeks to come–but she opts to move on after giving some cursory attention to your other breast. She kisses her way down your stomach, leaving smudged lipstick marks as she goes. Sevika lifts her head to admire how her lipstick looks against your skin, then lowers her mouth once more and drags her teeth over a spot on the side of your waist.

You yelp. The bed rocks as you thrash and try to squirm away from her mouth.

Sevika bars your hips down with her metal arm (but even then, it’s a struggle) and lifts her head. “You okay?”

“You–” You lift your head, then narrow your eyes when you catch her smirk. “You bitch.”

Her smirk widens into a grin. She carefully teases your side with the tips of her metal fingers, then chuckles when you squawk. “Something wrong, baby girl?”

“Fuck you.”

She laughs again, then takes mercy on you and goes back to lavishing your abdomen with her mouth.

She traverses lower, steady but slow enough that she can gauge your reactions. When the tension, the freezing she’s waiting for never comes, she hooks her human fingers beneath the band of your pants and briefs beneath. “I’d like to take these off you.” She waits, trailing soft, barely-there kisses along your abdomen. When you don’t respond past a shuddering, quiet moan, she asks, “That okay?”

“Yes,” you answer in a drawn out, somewhat strangled whimper.

She waits while you undo the buttons on the fly of your pants, then drags your trousers and briefs down once you lift your hips.

You draw your legs up to aid the process. Once your pants and underwear hit the floor, though, the hesitance creeps back in.

Sevika stills when she watches your shoulders bunch up. She waits for a moment –but, when you don’t say or do anything, she nudges. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You nod, then swallow. “Just –uh…” Your tongue works inside your cheek for a moment, and then you let out a breathy, nervous laugh. “Just– I think– might feel less silly, uh, if–”

A small smirk plays on her lips when you gesture between the two of you. “That’s fine.”

The clasp of her belt clacks when it smacks against her thigh. She kicks her boots off, then shucks off her pants and underwear in swift, even motions. The last of her clothes join yours on the floor.

“Wow.”

She does a double take when she hears the hushed, awe-struck whisper. She looks at you, brows raised towards her hairline. She takes in your wide-eyed, almost worshipful expression. Something soft and sweet settles in her chest like Firelight wings, and she smiles in spite of herself. “Good to know I’ve still got it.”

Your eyes rove over her body, tracing out every curve. “I don’t think you ever lost it.”

She chuckles, shakes her head, then straddles your bare hips. “You’re a fucking sap.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes to try and play off the warmth spreading through her chest. She plants one hand on either side of your head. “Try saying that when I’m not naked.”

Wide, panicked eyes snap up to hers. Your mouth opens, closes, then opens again. “I –you’re–”

She laughs. When you let out an irritated huff, she laughs harder. Sevika shakes her head, then cups your cheek with her right hand. “I’m just fucking with you, baby.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, even as you lean into her touch. “You’re a dick.”

“You just got that?”

A bemused smirk plays on your lips, before slipping away to something softer, more contemplative. Your hand hesitates halfway up, before circling behind her head. “Can I take this down?”

“Sure.” She reaches back with her right hand to help you undo the tie keeping her hair back, then shakes her head once her hair is free.

You smile, small and soft. You run your fingers through her hair, then tuck a few locks behind her ear. “You’re so beautiful.”

Heart racing, she leans down and kisses you. “No, you.”

Her journey back down your body is swifter this time around. She still teases your skin with her mouth, keeping that precious contact she’s learned you crave so fervently, but wastes no time in reaching her goal.

You let out a shuddering gasp when she situates herself between your thighs. A soft gulp emanates from your throat. “What –what should I do?”

“You’re supposed to enjoy yourself.” She brushes her lips against your inner thigh, then smirks when trembles wrack your body. “You put your hands on my hair, if you want.” She licks the junction where your thigh and hip meet, dragging a high-pitched moan past your lips. “You can tell me how good it feels.” And it’ll feel good, believe me. “But, otherwise, you just enjoy it, sweetheart.”

Your hips jerk when her breath fans over your cunt. One hand stutters down your body, then settles atop her head. You whimper. “Okay.”

Sevika pushes your thighs a little further apart, then settles on her belly, drapes her metal arm over your hits, and presses a soft, closed-mouth kiss against your pussy.

She's an old hat at eating women out. She’s not so proud as to call herself an “expert” –unless she’s drunk and bragging–but she knows she’s good at it. She knows the rules of eating pussy like the back of her hand.

First, don’t be afraid to explore. Don’t just focus on the clit and ignore everything else. The cunt is a buffet, and you’re there to eat.

Second, pay attention. Listen to how your bedmate responds, and listen to anything they mention beforehand. Being a know-it-all isn’t sexy.

Third, have fun. If you treat going down on your partner like a chore, they’ll pick up on it, and they won’t enjoy anything you do to them.

Fourth, don’t stop until they physically push you away.

She groans as she drags her tongue between your inner labia. Satisfaction sings through her veins –not so much at the taste (though she certainly enjoys that, too), but because she’s finally got her hands –mouth–on what she’s yearned after for so long.

It’s like working a marathon, back breaking, days long shift, just to finally come home and sink into a warm, soft bed. Except it’s eating pussy. Or whatever.

Ah, well. Metaphors can go fuck themselves, anyway. She has bigger priorities right now.

“Sev-vika!”

Like that.

Hitching, needy moans spill past your lips. “Ohmigod.” Your hips jerk against the (literal) iron bar of her mech arm. “Fuck –please, please–”

Sevika’s eyes dart up when you clap your other hand over your mouth. She pulls away from your dripping pussy –resulting in a strangled, confused whine from you–and tugs your hand away from your mouth. “Nuh-uh. Let me hear you, baby.”

Eyes glazed over and slightly unfocused, you stare at her glistening mouth before swallowing hard. “O-okay.”

She settles back between your legs, but pauses long enough to lock eyes with you again. “Good girl.”

Your responding whine is delicious.

She laps at your clit, swirls her tongue against the sensitive bud, then moves back down to lick around your entrance and suck on your sensitized flesh. She moans when you grind your clit against the bridge of her nose. “That’s it,” she growls into your soaked cunt. “Good girl.”

“Fuck!” Your fingers curl tightly into her hair. Thick, trembling thighs squeeze either side of her head. “ Quiet, strangled moans strain from your throat, followed by ragged, full-chested cries of pleasure, before cycling back to attempts to stifle yourself as pleasure rolls through you. You whimper, back arching off the bed. “Nnngh –that –m-more. More p-pressure, Sevika–”

She strokes your clit harder with her tongue, then starts alternating between sucking on your clit and licking it.

“Yes!” Tremors overtake your body. “That –that. Please. Please, please, please–”

Her eyelids slide shut when your cries cut off into silence. Her mech arm strains as your hips jerk against her mouth. She slowly ramps down the pressure and speed, coaxing you through your orgasm and into the afterglow.

Or, that’s the plan, at least.

Your body shudders as an aftershock runs through you. You let out a choked sob –then clap one hand over your mouth as another tremulous cry follows too close behind.

Crap. Sevika pulls her mouth away from your glistening pussy when you draw in a high-pitched, staggered, panicked breath. “Hey, hey.” She wipes her mouth on the back of her right forearm, then crawls up the bed. “Easy, sweetheart.” She wedges herself into the space next to you, then slides her right arm beneath your neck as she lies down. “C’mere.”

You curl into her and bury your face in her neck.

Hot, salty tears smear across her skin. She ignores the sensation in favor of stroking your hair and crooning reassuringly in your hair. “Just breathe for me. Come on.” She models a deep breath for you, then brushes her lips against your temple when you mimic her as best you can. “Attagirl. That’s it.”

A minute, shaky whimper falls from your lips. “I’m sor–”

“None of that,” Sevika cuts off, voice stern but gentle. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby. Just breathe for me, okay?”

Within a few minutes, you’re breathing more normally, even if you’re still tense as a rock and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. You swallow audibly, then curl one arm around her torso. “Sorry for freaking out.”

“What’d I say about doing that?” The corner of her mouth twitches up when you grunt into her neck. “It happens more than you think.”

“What, people have the best orgasm of their life, then blubber like a baby about it?”

Resisting the urge to preen is arduous. She inhales slowly, quietly, then forces her voice to come out neutral. “It’s called sub drop in BDSM communities. Endorphin and emotional high, followed by a drop after orgasm or a scene, followed by a crash. Happens in regular sex, too.” She cranes her head back and tilts her chin down until she can just see your eyes. “It’s normal.”

You drop her gaze and grunt against her shoulder.

“If anything,” she continues, “I should’ve warned you that it could happen. Prepared you better.” She strokes your hair lightly. “Ought to be me apologizing.”

You scoff. “Pretty sure you made me see god, if they exist. Think that balances everything out.”

She allows herself a smirk, then kisses the top of your head.

Once she’s confident that you’ve settled reasonably, she excuses herself to your bathroom. She washes and dries her face, then checks a couple drawers beneath your sink until she finds a few folded washcloths.

You lift your head when she walks back out of the bathroom. A confused frown tugs on your mouth when you see what’s in her hand. “Why…”

She arches one eyebrow and lifts the damp, clean rag. “For your sake, I hope you know to wash up after sex. Or masturbating.”

“I–” You sputter and scrunch up your nose at her. “Yes, you jackass, I know that! I haven’t been living under a rock my whole life!”

“Great.” She sits on the edge of the bed, then swipes the cloth over one of your inner thighs. “Figured you did, since you tasted pretty clean.”

“I –shit!” You shiver and hiss through your teeth. “That’s cold!”

“I used warm water,” she chuckles. “Your body’s just hot.”

“Fucking–” You flinch when she wipes down your other thigh, then prop yourself up on your elbows and squint at her. “I can do this myself, y’know. You don’t gotta…”

She shakes her head when you gesture to her hand, then carefully wipes along your cunt. “It’s good etiquette.” She tosses the used rag onto a wooden crate next to your bed that doubles as a nightstand –if the small camping lamp and a couple of books are anything to go by–then meets your doubtful gaze. “I’ve got a reputation for taking good care of my girls. I’m not about to start slacking now.”

You grunt and roll your eyes, but that seems to be the last of your protesting. You certainly accept the glass of water she fetches for you moments later with less belligerence.

Sevika waits until you set the empty glass on your makeshift nightstand, then clambers onto your bed and nudges you with her knee. “Make room.”

You oblige and shift towards the wall. Once she’s flat on her back, you settle against her side, half-draped on top of her.

Sevika resumes stroking your hair with her right hand.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.”

“Most people don’t.” She twirls a lock of your hair around her index finger. “It’s part of aftercare manners, too. Releases endorphins, helps calm everyone down again.”

You hum softly. Your hand presses flat against her ribcage, fingers smoothing over soft, dark brown skin. “You’re very good at it.”

She chuckles and grins. “Well, thank you, baby girl. You’re not so bad at it, either.”

The two of you settle into silence for a bit. It’s surprisingly peaceful –there’s muffled noises from the adjoining apartments and outside (Zaun is never truly quiet), but it’s a familiar, comforting drone.

Her heart leaps when you let out a little sigh, then relax against her. It’s taking everything to keep from grinning like a sap. She feels like she’s glowing from the inside out; she’s the cat that got the cream. After stewing in frustrated, uncertain yearning for so long, she’s done. She has her hands on you, she’s cracked you open, and she’s drinking everything. Being in the wake of your coveted softness feels like standing in a summer’s evening sunbeam, akin to her rare journeys to the docks, or up to the Promenade when running errands for Silco.

She brushes her hand from the nape of your neck, down the line of your spine, to in between your shoulder blades. Your skin is wondrously soft here –unscarred, untouched by calluses–and it feels exquisite beneath her fingertips. She soaks up the way you shiver, how you bury your face in her neck and sigh contentedly–

You prop yourself up on one hand and rise abruptly. Brows drawn together, you stare down at her with a small frown. “What about you?”

She blinks a few times, caught off guard. “What about me?”

“I’m pretty sure those were my brains you wiped off my thighs.” You smirk when she laughs, then continue once she settles back down. “I don’t want to freeload.”

Sevika shakes her head. “This isn’t how that works. If you don’t feel–”

“I want to,” you cut her off, expression and voice earnest. “I’m just not…” you gesture up and down her body, “...sure where to start.”

“Well,” she purrs as she stretches slowly. Smug satisfaction curls through her chest at the way your hungry, awestruck gaze roves over her body. Damn right. “There’s options, depending on how involved you want to be. If you don’t feel like touching, you can watch me masturbate. If you want to touch, but want me to have more control, I can always sit on your face. And if you want to touch and have more control, I can lie back and you can go down on me like I did for you.”

Your mouth hangs open. Dark, wide eyes flit down between her legs, then back up to her face. “Yeah.”

She grins. “Which one?”

“I mean…” You quirk your mouth to one side, glance away, then shrug ever so innocently. “We could have time for all of them.”

“We could,” she agrees, her grin growing wider. She reaches up, curls her fingers around your chin, and guides your head until you’re looking at her again. “Where do you want to start, sweet thing?”

Your expression goes blissfully blank for a moment.

She’s having far too much fun with this. You’re so responsive, she barely has to do anything to turn you into a muddled, lusty mess. It’s a gamble if you’ll stay this way, once you’re not so touch-starved and have some more experience, but right now she’s going to indulge and enjoy herself.

A few seconds later, you collect yourself and inhale sharply. “The –the face sitting. That’s a real thing?” Your breath hitches when she brushes her hand downward, over your neck. “I– I thought it was just in dirty novels. Or people talking shit.”

“It’s a real thing.”

“That.” Your voice is a rough, hungry growl. You lick your lips. “Sit on my face. Please.”

Exhilaration sings in her veins. She sits up slowly, maintaining eye contact the whole time, until she’s a hairsbreadth from your lips. “Good girl.”

You whimper into her mouth when she kisses you.

She directs you onto your back, then straddles your chest. She takes a moment to enjoy the view –you beneath her, hair mussed, lips kiss swollen–then works her way forward on her knees. She braces her arms against the wall, gets one knee over one of your burly shoulders –then laughs softly when you let out a strangled, high-pitched moan. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, emphatic. You’re staring at her thighs, her abs, her hips. “Pretty sure this is the best day of my life.”

She cackles, taken in by your enthusiasm, then swings her other leg over so she’s straddling your head. “Glad to be of assistance.” She finishes positioning herself over your mouth, then reaches down and grabs your hands. “Feel free to touch. Or hold on.”

“Hnmm.” Your fingers curl around her hips. “What –I –should –mouth?”

“Tongue and lips,” she answers with a smug smile. “Don’t be afraid to get messy. I’ll give you more direction in the moment.”

“Yesma’am.”

She smirks, then gives into your minute tug on her hips and lowers herself against your face.

You stay still for a moment –aside from your eyes rolling back in your head before sliding shut–until she reminds you, “Tongue and lips,” and then you start tentatively exploring her pussy. The first lick is soft and shallow, but the second goes deeper. Your tongue slides between her folds, and you groan softly in the back of your throat.

She hums lowly. Her head tips back, and she lets out a quiet sigh as you tease her pussy with your mouth. She lets you explore for a few moments –for you, she’s willing to be patient and let you test the waters–but soon rests her forehead against the wall so she can look down at you. “Up higher.” She groans when you tilt your chin up and drag your tongue over her clit. “Right there. Good girl.”

Your responding whimper is muffled by her thighs and cunt. The bed rocks gently as you squirm beneath her. Your fingers curl into her hips as your eyelids flutter shut, and you give into the bliss of eating her out.

To your credit, you’re a quick learner. It only takes a few more directions –adjusting speed and pressure, and reminding you to vary it up between your tongue and lips–before her thighs start quivering on either side of your head.

Your name falls from her lips in a breathy sigh. She rolls her hips against your mouth –then, when you freeze, she reaches down and sinks her fingers into your hair. “Don’t stop.” When you resume with just as much vigor as before, she groans. “Fuck –good girl.”

A strangled groan gets swallowed by her cunt. You’ve got your eyes shut; understandable, since it’s not like seeing in the most important function, given your current position.

But she wants to see your eyes. She wants to see how wrecked you are for her.

Her command to look at her goes unheeded for a moment. (Again, she can’t blame you. Pussy is a powerful drug.) But when she tugs on your hair and growls, “Look at me,” again, you get the message. You gasp, high-pitched, and then your eyes shoot open.

The wide, dazed look in your eyes makes her clit throb. She moans, making her forehead thunk against the wall. “Good girl.”

You whine her name into her cunt, and your eyes slide shut again–

Sevika tightens her grip on your hair until you let out a squeak and open your eyes again. “Keep ‘em open.” She braces her metal forearm above her head for stability, then rolls her hips experimentally a few times. When your gaze stays locked on her –although it unfocuses slightly, but she can’t say she blames you–she rewards you with another growled, “Good girl.”

Your responding whine reverberates through her pussy.

Thirst for obedience quenched, she sets into chasing her own pleasure.

It isn’t terribly protracted. Worshiping you earlier left her in quite the sweet spot –even after a break for aftercare and cuddling. She can already feel the tell-tale ache in her cunt; her orgasm’s not too far off, and between your mouth, the pace of her hips, and the pussy-drunk look in your eyes, it’s not going to be a difficult chase.

“Fuck!” Though she’s trying to be mindful that this is your first time, that you haven’t ever had someone ride your face, she can’t help but grind down harder. “Fuck –shit!” Her eyes roll back in her head, before she forces herself to look down again; she’s told you to keep your eyes open, and she’s not going to waste a single second of your compliance. “G-good girl. Shit. You’re –suchagoodgirl.” A breathless, higher pitched moan tears from her throat when your fingers curl into her ass –and again when you start helping her rock against your mouth. “You’re so –fucking perfect!” She groans, loud and broken. Her own eyes are crossing now; she can barely make out your face. “My perfect… perfect… good girl…”

You squeal the broken syllables of her name into her soaked pussy.

That’s all it takes. She climaxes with your name on her lips, bracketed between slurred curses and praises. Her eyelids finally slide shut, and she slumps against the wall as the rolls of her hips break down into softer, fluid humping. Eventually, she stills, panting like she’s gone five rounds in a fighting pit.

You wait, the picture of patience, while she catches her breath and comes back to her senses. Until, that is, curiosity and impishness overrides nerves and you decide to try sucking on her clit again.

She nearly jumps out of her skin. The ensuing oversensitivity borders between delicious and delirium, too good and too much, but she’s not in her head enough to navigate you through that right now. She lifts her hips off your face with a choked gasp. “You little shit.”

You grin up at her, lips, and chin, and cheeks, and neck coated in her arousal. “Sorry.”

She squints blearily down at you. “Somehow, I don’t buy that.” She smirks when you giggle, then shudders when you kiss the inside of her thigh. “Alright, enough. Make room.” She hefts one leg, so she’s no longer straddling your head –then stills when she feels her metal fingers catch against the wall. Slowly, ruefully, she looks up.

Five jagged, long gouges carved –by her–into the painted drywall greet her with no small amount of judgment.

“Shit.”

“Sev?” You squeeze her thigh gently. When she doesn’t respond, you crane your head back and

look up. Your gaze zeroes in on the gouges, and you beam. “I take it I did a good job?”

Relief chases away any sheepishness she might’ve felt. She snorts softly, then smirks down at you. “You were great, champ.” She smiles softly when you laugh, then nudges your shoulder with your knee. “Now, move over.”

You disappear shortly after she lies down; the sound of water running the bathroom cues her to where you are –not that there’s many places to wander off to in your place.

Sevika lets herself drift. She feels good. Warm and loose, the way she always does during afterglow.

Your bed’s surprisingly nice, too. Good balance between support and squish, decently soft bedding, solid enough frame that doesn’t shake beneath her every time she shifts.

Definitely not the worst place I’ve ever fucked in. She nestles into the bed, then grunts when her lower back gives a satisfying pop. She doesn’t bother to open her eyes when the water shuts off in the bathroom –not until she hears your footsteps (which are surprisingly quiet) approach the bed, and your shadow cuts through what light she can perceive through her eyelids.

You set another glass of water down on your nightstand with a faint clink. Then, you carefully sit next to her on the bed and start wiping down the insides of her thighs with a warm, wet washcloth.

Warmth blooms in her chest. Sevika smiles, then pushes up her left hand and wraps her right hand around the back of your neck.

You still briefly –then sigh and melt into the kiss once her lips touch yours.

…Yeah. She owes Ran a drink.

#sass writes #sevika x reader #smut #not safe for Tumblr #arcane: league of legends

6 notes · View notes