#i m only hoarding them

[literaila]

omg i’m not sure if you have a fic on this yet but what about the very first time megumi calls reader mom? does he freak out? does reader try to keep it cool but is actually dying inside? is there angst? what do you think??

it’s well known that megumi does call you mom… just not to your face (and then he freaks out).

but then, even after that, it takes him a while to feel comfortable referring to you with a title that he doesn’t fully understand. megumi doesn’t know what a mom is, what he’s supposed to feel for his so called mother…

unlike tsumiki, of course, who, almost exactly two years into living with you and satoru, was fully on board with the title.

you’d been tucking her in one night, smiling at her nonsensical ramblings about school and some girl she met at the store earlier in the day, when she’d just asked.

“can i call you mom?”

you paused your fluffing of her pillows. “what?”

“it’s okay if you don’t want me to,” tsumiki had answered back, hurriedly, her sweet voice true. “i just wanted to ask.”

and… it took a moment to regain any composure after that.

i mean, sure. you knew—truly—that the little girl and boy you would protect with your life were yours. they might’ve been someone else’s—a lifetime ago, when the world was better and reality was more genuine.

but in your world, they were yours.

(and satoru’s sometimes. but very rarely).

you’d been referring to them in kind for… almost two years. it only took a week of knowing the two of them—tsumiki with her genuine heart and show stopping smiles, and megumi with his brooding and paying far too much attention—for you to think as such. they were your children a month in.

but still, you knew that to them, you weren’t… the ideal. you weren’t a nurturer, not a babysitter or an aunt, not a friend but never anything less.

you were just there.

and really, that’s all you wanted to be for them. you didn’t need a title, didn’t need some overrated birthright. you just wanted to see the two of them at the dinner table, laughing at each other and picking at their food.

you weren’t going to ask for anything more.

but being their mom?

you looked down to tsumiki, unable to keep the ache out of your heart, the twinge out of your eyes. “miki,” you answered softly. “are you sure?”

the two of you had talked at length about moms. yours, who took the time you had together for granted, and tsumiki’s mom, who had their time stolen from her.

and you knew how much a mother meant to tsumiki. megumi had no recollection of their parents, but tsumiki couldn’t manage to forget.

“only if it’s okay with you,” the girl whispered, large, beautiful brown eyes looking into yours.

and, honestly, how are you supposed to say no to that?

“of course,” you’d answered back, a magical grin growing on your face. “you can call me whatever you want.”

“okay,” tsumiki met your grin with one of her own.

and when you closed the door that night, it was to the sound of a soft “goodnight, mom,” and the never ending glowing of your heart—just for your little girl.

when you left her room, wandering aimlessly through the house, falling face first on the couch and laying there until your bones ached, satoru couldn’t get anything out of you.

he’d tried rolling you over, irritating you with some bland remark, pulling on your hair… all to no avail.

but when you finally sat up, after about a half an hour, your grin was still so blinding that satoru was concerned for your health. waving a hand in front of your face just to see if you would still react.

you kept your conversation to yourself, knowing you’d probably only be able to hoard it for the night. but that was enough.

but megumi… he’s never been as easy as tsumiki. never as trusting.

so there isn’t a ground breaking conversation. he doesn’t tell you that he’s grateful for you, or that he feels lucky to have you in his life, or that your family is the best thing the little boy could imagine.

no, he’d never say any of that.

when megumi calls you mom for the first time (to your face) it’s in some boring, nonchalant moment.

you’re sitting on the couch, attempting to braid satoru’s stupid hair, when his little voice comes in from down the hallway, almost whining.

“hey mom?” he calls, head peeking around the corner.

“yeah?”

“did i give you my library book?”

“nope,” you pop, meeting his eyes. “did you lose it?”

megumi looks away, back towards his room. “no…” he says, suspiciously, walking back down the hall.

oh, well. at least if it’s gone satoru will be the one paying for it. really, you need to set a limit on the number of books he checks out at once.

you shake your head but focus back in on the object at hand. why is his hair all different lengths? it doesn’t even make any sense.

but satoru’s got his head tilted back, already smiling at you like he knows something you don’t.

“what?” you ask, frowning. you nudge his head but he doesn’t move. you sigh. “did you hide his book?”

satoru doesn’t answer that—probably because he did—he only blinks at you, eyes alight with something you’ll probably never understand.

“what?” you repeat, bothered.

satoru’s grin grows wider. “nothing.”

“then look forward. im busy.”

he chooses, in that moment, to let you deal with it yourself. so he only tucks back his smile, looking towards the mantle once again.

and when you’ve got his hair back in your hands, parting it on the side, he just says, “you’re really terrible at this, you know?”

you gasp. “is that a grey hair, satoru?” you pull at a strand. “you must be working too hard.”

he pulls away, trying aimlessly to look up at his own head. “where!?” he demands, and you only laugh at him.

it’s not until later that night, when satoru’s hands are in your hair this time, brushing through it, and all of the lights are off that you realize it.

“did megumi call me mom?” you ask, into the dark. your voice is mindless, dazed.

“i was wondering when you’d notice.”

and if there’s a slight prick to your eyes, it’s got nothing to do with that, okay? it’s just a title.

if you shed a tear it’s only because satoru accidentally pulls on a knot in your hair and he’s a bastard. really.

(when megumi does it again the next day you have to lean against the counter and try not to tackle the boy where he stands).

#don’t even ask me about the kids calling satoru dad #he probably throws a party just for the occasion #every year calls it his ‘dad-iversary’ #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #a typical family #satoru x reader

[babyboydaniel]

Knock, Knock (M) | Part 1

Daniel Ricciardo x Fem!Reader | Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lando really needs to learn how to knock.

Smut, Fluff | Warnings: 18+, Fingering, Semi-Public, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, very slight Somnophilia | Word Count: 2K

Walking into the McLaren hospitality for the first time was nerve-wracking. You had been dating Daniel for over a year but you had not accompanied him to a race. Not that you did not want to. No, it was the opposite. Unfortunately, your job kept you busy, and your schedule never lined up with the race weekends. But work slowed down enough for you to fly out to Austin with Daniel. Giving you the chance to support him during one of his favorite races of the season.

Daniel held your hand in his, providing comfort as you walked through the building. Everyone seemed to want to stop and talk to him. Not that it surprised you. He is the type of person everyone gravitates towards. His warm and welcoming smile, the way his beautiful eyes concentrated when people talked. It is hard not to love him. You were head over heels, so you can’t blame them. But, as person after person came up to him, Daniel’s hand never left yours. Making sure you were close at all times. Smiling down at you when given the chance and introducing you to those you have never met.

Eventually, you made your way through the hoards of people and you found your way to Daniel’s driver’s room. It was small, but you welcomed the seclusion. You are not used to all the attention. Daniel and you were pretty private, keeping your relationship to yourselves. Whole heartedly loving each other in your own little bubble. Only letting a select few witness it. 

“Sorry, I did not expect that there would be so many people here by now,” Daniel apologized as he wrapped his arms around you. His beautiful amber eyes locking on to yours. 

You could get lost in them, spend hours just staring at him.

“It’s okay, it’s a good problem to have,” you responded, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Suppose so,” Daniel said as he dipped his head to capture your lips.

You sighed into the kiss. Your lips parted to take Daniel’s bottom lip between yours, gently sucking and biting it. Teasing him. Before pressing your lips back to his. Daniel moaned as he returned the gesture. Pulling your body flush against his. Using his lips and tongue to leave you absolutely breathless and compliant. 

Kissing Daniel was one of your favorite activities. It was all about give and take until he got fed up with your games and took all for himself, forcing you to submit to him. He knew exactly what to do to turn you into a utter mess. 

As Daniel grabbed your ass, pressing his semi to your covered core, you ground against him as you whined the sound of the door being opened caused you both to jump. 

“Daniel, are you in-.”

You glanced over Daniel’s shoulder to see who the intruder was. Your eyes met with Lando Norris, his hand still resting on the doorknob as he stood halfway in the doorway. His pink mouth hung open as his eyes shifted to Daniel’s arms still around your waist.

“Shit. Sorry, they just need us for some media, and I knocked a couple of times. You didn’t respond,” Lando rambled, his cheeks tinted pink. Cute, you thought. 

Turning to face him, Daniel laughed as he shook his head, “No worries, mate.”

It was at this moment that you could fully see Lando, now that Daniel was no longer blocking your line of sight. He looks like he did on TV. Devastatingly handsome but still holding onto that boyish charm. Unsurprisingly, he was wearing his papaya orange hoodie and black pants, even though it was hotter than the sun out. You smiled at him. He smiled back, a look of embarrassment still painted his features. 

As Daniel slipped his arm around your waist, he brought your attention back to him.

“Babe, as I am sure you know, this is Lando. Lando, this is Y/N, my girlfriend,” Daniel gestured between the two of you as he introduced you.

“Hi,” you responded, stretching out your hand to shake.

Lando took your hand in his. Wow, his hands are big, floated through your mind as his slender fingers covered yours. 

“Nice to meet you,” he mused. His fingers softly trailed over your skin as he pulled his hand back to rest at his side. His gaze not leaving yours. Questioning, but assured. He smirked. 

Daniel cleared his throat, “Alrighty, now that we all know each other, I guess we should go get that media stuff done.”

Lando nodded and turned to leave the two of you to say your goodbyes.

Daniel pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I will be back as soon as possible.”

You smiled up at your loving boyfriend and kissed him one last time before you pushed him out the door. Once alone, you flung yourself onto the small sofa in the room with a groan. Your mind wandered to Lando and his hands, how he looked at you, and the blush on his cheek when he walked in on you. Did he hear you moan? He had to. For some reason that made you feel hot, your thighs pressing togther at the thought. 

Get it together, you chastised. You barely know the guy, and you were in a loving committed relationship. Fuck, the last thing you need is to be thinking about Lando. Especially when you were here to cheer on your boyfriend, Daniel. You pressed your palms against your eyes, hoping to erase the images from your mind. 

You were not up to walking around by yourself, and it seemed like there was no better time to catch up on the book you were reading. So, with the novel in hand you curled up on the couch. In a couple turns of the page you were sleeping. You awoke to Daniel running his fingers through your hair and softly calling your name. Your eyes slowly opened, and Daniel’s face came into focus.

“There she is,” he murmured.

You smiled at him, leaning into his touch, “Sorry, I guess the lack of sleep caught up with me.”

Daniel chuckled, “Don’t worry about it, babe. I am sorry I can’t be here to entertain you as much.”

You shook your head, “No need to apologize,” you understood that he had other priorities on race weekends.

“Did you enjoy your nap?” he questioned as he maneuvered you so you were snuggled into his lap.

Instinctually, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you nuzzled into his neck. You nodded your head. Daniel’s arms pulled you in tighter as he ran a hand up and down your back, comforting you. The two of you sat like that for a long time, you almost falling back asleep. Until a ding from Daniel’s phone broke through the quiet. Daniel shuffled under you to reach for his phone, stilling once he finally got it. He sighed.

“Fuck,” he grumbled, “they scheduled a last-minute interview in 15 minutes.”

“Boooo,” you joked. 

“I am sorry, babe. But I have to take off again,” he continued.

“I get it,” you mumbled, lips still pressed to his neck.

Daniel pulled you close, pressing a tender kiss to your temple before shifting you off his lap. With a kiss to your lips, Daniel was off again.

You picked up your book to continue where you left off but after a couple of steamy pages your mind had wandered elsewhere. The nerves from the morning had finally worn off and you began to think about your morning with Daniel. Your core throbbing just at the thought of it. You had woken up with his dick pressed into your back and his hand cupping your pussy. As you shook the sleep off, Daniel began rubbing your clit. Using your wetness to get you off. You were moaning and panting in no time, moving closer and closer to the edge. Begging him to fuck you or at the very least put his fingers in you. Then his fucking alarm went off, and Daniel immediately removed his hands from you. Fumbling to turn off the alarm and swung his legs over the bed.

“Daniel,” you had whined, “you aren’t going to finish what you started?”

Daniel looked down at you guiltily, “Fuck, sorry! We are so late, and I have media duties right when I get there.”

You sighed as you frustratedly fell against the pillows and glared at your boyfriend.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he reasoned.

So, you were forced to get ready and head to the track without a release. No longer feeling like you were going to throw up from anxiety your need to get off came back tenfold. Since Daniel denied you earlier, the least you can do is finger yourself while waiting for him to come back. Sucks to be him. 

With your mind made up, you laid back against the arm of the sofa with your legs spread open on the cushions. The cold air sent a shiver up your spine. As you got comfortable, you ran your hands over your breasts, gently massaging them before focusing your attention on your nipples. Your thumbs rubbed over the growing buds. You let out a breathy moan. You needed more.

Lucky for you, you wore a dress, easy access, as Daniel would say. Grabbing the hem of the dress, you pushed it up until it was bunched under your armpits. Your sheer white underwear on full display. You shivered just at the thought of Daniel seeing you like that. Spread out and on display for him. Your hands were back on your breasts. Pulling them from the confines of your bra. Your nipples hardened once touched by the cold air. Just that was enough to make you gasp. As one hand played and tugged at your nipples, your other hand trailed down until it met the edge of your underwear, teasing yourself.

You lightly brushed over your covered slit. Barely touching your clit throught the thin fabric. Just enough for you to want more. To work yourself up until you cannot take it any longer. You moaned louder this time. Biting your lip, you glanced towards the door. The thought of someone walking by or hearing you flitted through your mind. But, you were too turned on to stop. So, you pressed against your clit a little harder, imagining that Daniel was touching you.

You could feel your underwear begin to get wet where your juices dripped from you. It was only then that you allowed yourself to push your underwear around your thighs and touch your clit. The whine that left your mouth would have been heard if anyone was walking by. That only spurred you on more. Wanting people to hear how gone you were for your boyfriend, even when he is not the one touching you. Slowly, you circled that orgasmic bundle of nerves, edging yourself while your other fingers pushed into you. The feeling was euphoric. Not as good as when Daniel did it, but you took what you could at the moment. The sound of how wet you were as your fingers pumped turned you on more. Your arousal was obvious and the room smell like it. It was intoxicating while you increased the speed of your fingers pumping into you and rubbing your clit faster as you were quickly approaching your orgasm.

“Fuck,” you moaned.

Your fingers pressed against your G-spot, and it was all over. With your back arched and toes curled, you heard the door open. Your eyes were wide as you peeked to your right. Meeting the gaze of the onlooker. But you could not stop as your orgasm racked your body. You were coming as your release leaked out around your fingers. A strangled moan fell from your lips.

“Fuck,” they whispered, their lustful blue eyes locked on your dripping fingers still stuffed in your pussy.

You squealed as it finally sunk in that Lando Norris witnessed you coming all over your fingers.

At the noise, his eyes moved to look at you, tongue reaching out to wet his lips. He smirked at you.

What the fuck were you going to tell Danny, you thought.

Part 2

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fic #danny ric #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #daniel ricciardo x reader #lando norris x reader

[thegnomelord]

heyo!!! here for the prompt game!!!!

can i have 19 with monster au ghost and soap (make em trans if ya can).... reader is male and a top/dom and he's an older dragon hybrid so he has a bit of a dad bod and is a little insecure about his looks and also his age affecting his performance (two lizard pp) i want the boys to comfort their dilf

Ngl this took me so long to do as I just couldn't figure out how to write it 😅 Play the game HERE.

Prompt: Becoming self conscious after the clothes come off

CW:NSFW, monster 141 au, FTM wraith Ghost, FTM werewolf Soap, M!dragon reader, afab language, double dick, oral, double penetration, body worship,

Dragons only stop growing when something kills them and you're old enough to have shed blood on Jerusalem's walls; you know how you look — fat widening your frame and hiding the sharp musculature you possessed, old age muddling fogging the gemstone like shine of your scales until they look like low quality stones, wing membranes dotted with holes and broken horns capped with gold and iron again and again and again throughout the ages.

You watch Ghost and Soap disrobe after a long day of running drills, Simon periodically giving one word answers to Johnny's insistent but welcome chatter as he helps Soap take off his gear after he'd sprained his back. It's domestically calming, watching your boys—your hoard— take care of each other, Soap's eyes settling on yours as he licks his lips; dread stabs your ancient heart. It picks a new spear morning you wake to find them huddling next to you when you expected them to be long gone, sharpening it throughout the day until you find yourself back in your bedroom with them so dark dread can stab your heart once again.

How can you even call them yours?

You're not dumb. You know no partner deserves to doubt their own abilities when you fail to become hard immediately like they do, hairpin triggers that they are. Nor do they deserve to be left needy and wet, bodies rearing to go again quickly while exhaustion claws at your eyelids after just one orgasm; curse your draconic blood for turning more than just your body lazy as the years go by.

You're so deep in your head you don't notice them until four hands grip you and before you know it you're being flung onto the bed. You land with all the grace of a mountain, the bed's groaning under your weight not helping to stop the thoughts in your head. They're on you like wolves, straddling your thighs as if mortal men can pin a dragon down.

"Now whaet's gotten yer tail in'a twist?" Soap asks, greedy hands sliding beneath your shirt to trace the swell of your firm stomach. Your heart preens at his touch before your mind can remind you that in society's vain eyes-their eyes- you're less, just bragging rights, a notch on the bedpost.

"I'm fine." You growl, pulling Johnny's hands out beneath your shirt. He looks defeated like a child deprived of a toy, though your sharp senses pick up a spike of arousal.

"Sure," Ghost's sharp eyes track your every movement, blackened hand gripping your forearm, claws tracing the place were muddy scales melt into human skin. Even completely nude atop your thigh his form strikes a sharp image compared to you. "What, did you get a shite tatt while we weren't lookin'?"

"Is it a tramp stamp?" Johnny perks up at that, a low sound coming from him and his thighs clench around your own, slick dampening your skin. "No, no, a dick tatt." And suddenly his hand's at your groin, fondling the smooth surface of your pelvis over your boxers in an attempt to coax your cocks out of your genital slit. It doesn't work, like usual.

"Fuck's sake," You growl and grab his arm, trying to ignore the swell of your heart when your rough action makes Johnny's arousal spike. "I'm fine, really."

"Mhm, and I'm the Queen." Ghost snorts, using your temporary distraction to lean in and lick a long stripe up the side your neck, nibbling on your ear until a treacherous rumbling purr leaves your chest. Your body doesn't care of the shit going on in your head, only recognizes the sweet arousal of your hoard and the soft touch they leave on your body, rough hands sliding across your skin and feeling the hard muscles beneath the fat.

"More of a princess, sure 'r bossy like one." Johnny pipes up and ducks to escape a swat over the back of the head from Ghost, unperturbed by your grip of his arm Johnny slides his other hand down your front, sharp claws shredding your shirt before you can stop him. "What's wrong bonnie? Not 'nough that this handsome knight comes t' lay yea?"

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes closing to escape their gaze, "I just-" You breathe out, "-just don't know what you see in me."

Silence follows your words and you're sure the next moment they'll get off and this thing you had will just be over. Then a hand grips your hair, your eyes falling open just in time to catch Simon's before he roughly kisses you. Soap is close behind, tail wagging rapidly as he licks the side of your lip and taking Simon's place when you seperate.

"How about we show you, yeah?" Simon growls, briefly groping the firm swell of your abdomen then sliding his hand down to cut your boxers away with his claws, leaving you as bare as they are. Ghost's clever fingers sneak down further to slide across your genital slit, sharp claws tenderly scratching the smooth scales around it and fingers spreading it open, thumb rubbing the head of one cock as it's starting to peek out.

"Not going tae stop us will yae?" Johnny's hands wander over your exposed chest, roughly groping your fat pecs as you both groan into the kiss. "Cause ah been wantin' to do this for a while," Then he pulls his head back and pushes it between your pecs, a low sound escaping him as he shakes his head.

A surprised laugh leaves you as you realize Soap's fucking motorboarding you, nipping and kissing your fat chest. His touch makes fire burn in your stomach, the way both of their hands roam across the wide expanse of your body making goosebumps pop up on your skin.

"Way to ruin the mood mutt," Simon chuckles alongside you, then his eyes go down. "Oh, like us being sweet on you, huh?" He smirks, fingers wrapping around your cock as you only now realize you've gotten hard, "Want us to keep going?" The sharp scent of their arousal is impossible to miss, only making both of your cocks just that much harder.

"Yeah," You breathe out, letting them maneuver you however they want. You end up flat on your back with Ghost stradling your face, cunt leaking slick down on your face. Soap's between your legs with his plump lips already latched on your lower cock, sucking and licking your cock like it's a popsicle.

"Fuck-" Simon yelps when you follow Soap's lead and pull Ghost down firmly on your face, your obscenely long tongue sliding out to lick a fat stripe across his folds. "-just like that. Shit, you take such good care of us." Ghost groans, his voice stroking that draconic need to guard your hoard and making you worm your tongue inside him. The sudden intrusion of your tongue inside his fluttering walls makes him double over you, but soon after you feel him latch on to your second cock.

Even with all your senses consumed by them you still catch the slight whine in Johnny's chest, already imagining him roughly fingering himself as he sucks you off and watches Simon's eyes grow bleary every time you twist your tongue to hit that special spot inside him. Without thinking you slide your tail between Soap's legs, mind flooding with endorphins at Soap's pleased groan around your cock before he's roughly grinding against your tail, cunt wetly pulsing and drawing more sounds from him each time his clit scraps against your scales.

You don't know how long you float in a fog of pleasure, Simon's sweet slick flooding your mouth, skin feeling hot like magma from their hands wandering and groping your flesh like you're some god, mind buzzing from the sound of their collective pleasure and the sweet tight heat of their mouths on your cocks. At some point you become aware of the orgasm steadily encroaching towards you and you'll be damned if you cum before them.

Giving Simon's sweet cunt a final lewd 'slurp' you pull your tongue back, jaw and throat covered in his fluids. Ghost slumps against you, breathing hard while still continuing to suck you off, his eyes meeting Soap's while the Scott desperately humps your tail and whines because it's not enough.

"On the bed." You growl, low and possessive, your strength still surpassing them as you maneuver them. Simon ends up on his back with Johnny pressed up on top of him, both bodies flush with heat and sweaty.

"Fuck, bonnie-" Johnny sucks in a sharp breath and grinds his hips against Simon, biting his shoulder and groaning as the motion makes their cunts rub together, mingling their slick. "Come on, fuck me-us, just-"

"I know," You chuckle, wings subconsciously spreading out to show how big you are, how strong, how you can take care of them. "Need me to fuck you boys good and hard huh?" You let out a low rumbling growl, draping your body over theirs and not holding back so they can feel your weight. You don't miss how their scents sharpen with more arousal.

"Stop talking," Simon growls, brown eyes meeting yours and urging you to press your slick cockheads against their wet holes, each cock almost tailored just for them. Simon groans as you slide in, your first cock not as long as your second one but fat and Simon relishes the burn as you spread him to his limit.

"Shite," Johnny grinds his hips back to meet yours and whimpers when your cock head brushes his cervix, both of their bellies bulging from you being inside them. "God, fockin' love you for this,"

Another small laugh escapes you, "Love you too," making a few short pumps of your hips to get them acclimated to the stretch of you inside them you start making deeper thrusts. "Love you both so much," Your confession is honest from the deepest part of your heart, a deep draconic groan leaving your lips at the way they clench so wonderfully around you.

You see Ghost open his mouth but words escape him as your cock saws into him, all the bumps and ridges on your shaft scraping their soft walls until they're both shaking, soft little moans and deep growls leaving them. You pick up the pace, sharp had thrusts into their pliant bodies making the bed smack against the wall.

You fuck them hard and fast until they're shaking with an orgasm but you don't stop, teeth bared as if to scare off your own pleasure so you can fuck them over and over and over again.

#Gnome's prompt game #cod mw2 #x reader #gnome correspondence #top male reader #male reader #john soap mactavish #ftm character #ftm sub #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #john soap mactavish x male reader #john soap mactavish x reader #sub john soap mactavish #sub simon riley

[lis-likes-fics]

The Dragon's Hoard

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x wife!Reader Word Count: 2.7 words Warnings: NSFW, smut, masochism/sadism, choking, hairpulling, oral (m and f!receiving), biting, scratching, marking, claiming, knife play, overstim, Daemon sort of ignores her when she says stop, brief aftercare, all of this is consensual... A/N: This was an ask I got like...months ago. I finally found the time to write it and I'm satisfied with how it turned out. This is on the shorter side of my works but I think it's good. Thank you and happy reading!

Daemon slams you into the wall with the brute force of his desperation. It knocks the breath from your lungs and leaves you gasping into his kiss.

Still, you seek him out, hungry for the feeling of his biting teeth in your lower lip as you claw at his arms and at his back. Daemon's hand wraps around the column of your throat, and with too much strength, he pushes you back against the wall with a heavy thump. His eyes examine you, face fallen into cold indifference as he watches you with swollen, bitten lips.

He says nothing, inclining his head to watch you down his nose. Slowly he leans forward, and you go to meet him in the middle, your movements like a yapping, nipping creature as he continues to pull away. His hand tightens when his lips and teeth mash with yours, bruising and cutting.

He shoves you down onto your knees, bracing one hand against the wall as the other tangles in your hair so tight, you feel he may pull it out. You take his demand for what it is as you undo his trousers, tugging and pulling until you've rid him of the burden. You're hungry for him as you take him into your mouth, laving your tongue against the heat of his cock.

Suckling around the tip, you close your eyes and moan at the sting in your scalp and the salty taste on your tongue. He doesn't give you too much time to relish, however, before he's bracing himself against the wall and tightening his grip in your hair. He holds you still as he shoves his cock into your mouth, down the tight squeeze of your throat. Tears spring to your eyes, and you gasp uselessly around his cock as he fucks into your throat with a fervency you have to catch up with.

He curses under his breath at the way you continue to suck. “That's it,” he huffs, looking down at you with dark eyes. “Just a cock hungry whore wanting me to fuck her stupid.”

Your moan comes out as a gag in between thrusts of his cock and only elevates his pleasure. Pressing himself down all the way, just one last time, he lingers there before he pulls out. You gasp for air as he catches his breath, grasping your arm roughly and forcing you to your feet. He takes your jaw in his harsh grasp and pulls you in for another kiss, biting your lip so hard that you taste the blood on your tongue when he pulls away.

You lick it, smiling drunkenly at him. “I’m not sure you’ve marked me quite well enough, my prince. You should try again, just to be sure.”

He’s amused by your antics but so lust-driven that he doesn’t return your suggestion with any words. He shoves you away so you stumble toward the table, bracing your hands on it. He comes up behind you and turns you around to face him, bending you back until you’re laying upon it.

He leans down, nuzzling his face in your neck and inhaling your scent. With a dark hum, he bares his teeth and begins licking and sucking and biting at the skin of your neck. You whimper as he paints bruises into your skin, marking you up so deeply, he may as well be carving his name into your flesh. His possessive hands tug at your clothes until he’s actually ripping your nightgown from your body, letting them fall in rags to the floor. His dull names dig into your skin, and you love the sharp sting of his claws.

When he eases up, it’s only to trail his bruising kisses down your chest, your belly, to the heat of your cunt. He doesn’t waste time in teasing you. He laps at the seam of your pussy and sucks around you as you let out a gasp. His fingers sink into your dripping cunt, wringing your pleasure from your body as he continues to use his skilled tongue to taste you. Sitting up, his hands thrust in and out of you with a speed and a strength that makes you dizzy as you moan his name for the whole castle to hear. And when he’s done with that, his fingers retreat from you and he grips the underside of your thighs, all the lift them up and fold you in half so he can continue to taste the sweet nectar of your cunt.

Daemon is merciless in the ways of pleasure, just as he is in the ways of pain. His nails claw and his teeth bite and he makes you cum over and over and over again on his tongue and on his fingers until you’re dizzy and sobbing. Your sensitive clit between his lips has you choking when his teeth threaten to bite down on it. There’s a point he’s sure he’s heard you say, “Please, Daemon,” in between sobs, “I can’t. Fuck, stop.” (Or maybe you were saying “I can’t fucking stop.” Either way, he cares little.)

But he knows better. He makes you cum twice more before he even considers pulling away. He’s content to spend forever making you shake.

He likes you like this. He likes watching you cry, watching you writhe in his grasp, watching you fall apart in his hands until you’re nothing but the little whore he knows you to be under your regality and poise. It doesn’t matter how powerful you are, you’re always his weak little creature when he has you in his grip.

When he’s satisfied with your trembling, he stands to his full height once more and lets your legs down. He turns you over on your stomach and watches your legs twitch. You cry out when his palm strikes the cheek of your ass, the harsh impact making you sting and ache where he’d hit you. His fingers tangle in your hair once more, and he pulls you back as he bends over your body and leans into your ear. You moan at the heat mixing all over your body, the pain and the pleasure and the desire mixing into a beautiful cocktail.

“Look at yourself,” he purrs. “You cry like a baby, pretty girl.” His hand spanks you again, just as harshly—if not worse—than the first time. You whine, your legs shaking even more. “Do you want me to fuck this little cunt of yours?”

You nod, catching your breath as you grip the edge of the table. His arm snakes around you so his hand settles on the column of your throat. He squeezes, and he can hear your breath straining around his grasp. Your eyes flutter, and a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “Use your words.”

Your lips part and, around the tightness of your throat, you speak. “Yes, my prince.”

The smallest grin curls his lips devilishly. “Such a good girl,” he hums. “But if you want me so badly, you’ll have to do one thing for me.”

Your breath picks up just a bit. “Anything.”

A flash of silver catches your eye as he pulls a blade from off the table. He presses it to your cheek, the metal cold against the heat in your face. “Hold still,” he murmurs, kissing your neck before letting the blade ease down your body as the anticipation and anxiety mixes in your belly. He pulls away from you, turning you on your back. He looks into your eyes, his gaze intense and penetrating. His voice is taunting but his words are careful.

“Promise me you'll hold still,” he mumbles.

You nod, trusting a man who isn't trustworthy. “I promise.” Your eyes are glazed and your words are sticky, but your promise is true.

Daemon wastes no more time being sentimental. He secures his blade and holds your side. You bare your teeth when he presses the sharp blade into the flesh just under your breast, just deep enough to scar. You squeeze your eyes shut and flex your muscles, whimpering meekly as you strain to keep still. It hurts but the searing pain has the twisting in your gut curling even more. You're as hot and as wet as the blood pooling in your wounds.

You feel like you've been there forever, bearing the pain for him because he'll reward you ten times over. And when he's done, his lips grin mischievously at the injuries he'll ensure scar. “Now you'll never forget who you belong to.”

At the bottom of your torso, small letters spelling DAEMON’S are carved into the skin above your ribs. He smiles, his hand squeezing your thigh, his cock twitching. He bends down kissing you roughly, his teeth taking your bottom lip and letting it go to let it slap back against your teeth.

“I love you, Daemon,” you gasp shallowly, dizzy and in need.

He doesn't answer you as his blade clatters to the floor. You're too dazed to notice his non-response. You groan when he lifts your legs over his shoulders, hooking them there by your ankles.

“Now shall I fuck you until you beg me to cum,” he breathes, “or until you beg me to stop?”

You whimper, your hands searching him out. He takes them, gathering them in one of his as he presses them against your chest so you can move them. “Until you beg me to stop, then.”

He thrusts his cock inside of you, fucking you in long, rough strokes. He presses in so deep, slamming the blunt head of his cock against the deepest parts of you and pulling back to do it all over again. Tears slip down the sides of your face, and you can’t help the moans that tear from your throat. You chant his name, begging him for more, more, more.

His hips slap into you ruthlessly. You clench around him, urging him to go harder still. It doesn’t hurt enough. You wanted to go blind with pleasure, to gasp for the breath he robbed from your lungs. He lets go of your hand to squeeze your breast, groping you roughly as he flicks your nipple with his thumb, circling it around and pinching it between his fingers.

His breath is heavy as it passes in and out of his throat, a rough dragging of air through his lungs. Groans fall from his lips, possessive grunts that fill your ears and cloud your mind with lust. With the pad of his thumb, he rubs mercilessly at your aching clit. You tighten around him as he circles the sensitive bud.

“That’s a good girl,” he hums, baring his teeth as he continues to fuck into you. You moan for him, letting him bear witness to all your sounds, all the ways he’s making you feel so good.

And when you cum, you cry his name as he fucks you through it. But he doesn’t stop. No, he promised he wouldn’t stop until you were begging him to. He promised he wouldn’t stop until you were a sobbing mess underneath him, shaking with exhaustion. You don’t think he would stop even then, addicted to the sight of you broken down to the pathetic whore he likes to reduce you to. He loves watching your dignity melt away into nothing but a twisting pile of debauchery before him.

He never lets up. Not when you cum on his cock the second time, or the third, or by the time the both of you have lost count, your heads clouded by a raging lust. And you do beg. When you’re sure your body can’t take anymore, when you’re sure your tired and aching limbs have had enough, you beg him—if not to stop—then to slow down so you can at least try to catch up with him.

But he doesn’t.

He wraps a hand around your throat and he squeezes and he tells you how beautiful you look when you cry. He uses your body to his own will, chasing his high now that you’ve finally reached that breaking point he so loves.

The truth is, Daemon does—in some ways—have love in his heart for you. But, by the gods, to see you tremble like prey beneath him trumps any kind of adoration or respect he holds for you. It unlocks something in him that has him squeezing his hand around your throat, watching you claw, the both of you unsure of whether you’re fighting to loosen his grip or to grasp tighter. He loves watching you fall apart.

“D-Daemon,” you strain, hazy and faded from your lust-driven thoughts. “Please, I can’t. No more, please.”

But he knows you. You can try to beg, but he knows what you want. And he gladly delivers. With a new strength, he takes a breath as he braces both hands at your body and fucks into you in search of his own release. Your eyes flutter and you choke on your own moans. It’s so much, all of it at once. You try to breathe, but all you do is gasp and sigh. His name stutters on your tongue and all you can do is gasp and sigh.

Knowing he’s close, you gather all the sense in your mind to tip him over the edge. And, because he has love for you, it works. “F-Fuck, Daemon. Breed me.”

He spills inside of you with a harsh grunt, slamming his hips into you as deep as they’ll go and then grinding some more to ensure none of his release can escape your womb. You moan, closing your eyes and bringing his hand back to your throat just to feel that tingling feeling once more. Daemon’s muscles flex and strain through his skin, and his teeth clamp shut as he tries to compose himself once more.

When he straightens his spine, he looks at you down his nose. His hair is a mess in his face, his eyes are down and lust-blown, his chest heaves with gasping breaths. He lets your legs down and steps away from you, his naked body retreating from you as you lay limply on the table. You’re so fazed, all you can do is lie there and await his return.

You don’t know how much time passes between him leaving and returning. When he does return, he has a newfound gentleness that warms you. He cleans the both of you up as best he cares to, taking extra care to push whatever has escaped the seam of your cunt back inside of you—who was he to deny your wish?

You wince when he sprinkles salt in your wound, waiting a moment before he cleans that up too. And once you’re properly cared for, he stretches his exerted muscles briefly.

You would have hoped he would carry you a little more carefully, but you don’t necessarily mind the way he slings you over his shoulder because he sets you down gently onto the bed and fixes your covers. He joins you a moment later, just soft enough from his exhaustion to wrap his arms around your body and hold you to him.

Daemon is not an affectionate man. You know where his heart and desires lie, you’ve been fully aware since the day you were married. But you are his wife, and you’ve been together with your special arrangements and agreements for too long for him not to feel for you. It doesn’t matter to you if he never says that he loves you—you’ve come to peace with the fact that he may never truly love you, at least not more than the love his heart has already set for himself—you will always relish in the moments where you get to hold this gentle thing of your husband in your arms for as long as he is him.

Your husband rests his head in your chests and wraps his arms around your sides, noticeably careful where he’s carved his name into your claimed flesh, and you hold him until he separates sometime in the early hours of the morning, happy to call him yours.

Ice and Fire taglist: @divinearchangel @alexxavicry @katsukis1wife @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo @lover-of-books-and-tea @avalyaaa Tag yourself here...

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen x reader smut #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

[retroellie]

Bloody mess

Summary: Period pains suck and Daryl only knows one way to help you

A/N: I'm on my period and very Horny for Daryl rn, so hey :) Have a acute little period smut. Also, i want to start writing blurbs because writing full fanfics is so time consuming and i have some many ideas but not enough time to write them yk? So, expect short fics coming up!!

Warnings: NSFW, Cunnilingus, period sex, blood and just gross descriptions

Word Count: 2.2K

You don’t know how you ended up in this situation, with your hands tangled in Daryl’s hair as he went to town between your thighs. You just came home from work to find the kids at Rositas house, the house was empty and the shower was basically calling for you. You were in extreme amounts of pain, you had gotten your period that morning and throughout work you were on the verge of just collapsing so all you wanted to do right now was lay in bed and hope the cramps stopped.

The nice hot shower you took helped some, the dull ache in your stomach ceased for only a couple minutes before it came back and twice as bad. You could do nothing else but put on some underwear with a huge pad and one of Daryl’s black shirts, just lay there until it felt better. You were laying there with your eyes shut and a hot water bottle on your stomach, it was useless even trying to sleep because the pain would wake you.

You thought all hope was lost until you heard the front door open, at first you thought it was the kids so you attempted to cover up some but the footsteps you heard were much heavier than your goofball niece and nephew. The footsteps go louder as they make their way into your room, the door creaking open to reveal the culprit of the noise. It was Daryl, he was coming home from a long day at work and he was exhausted to say the least.

The first thing he saw was you with a towel underneath you, a pair of black underwear and his shirt. At first he thought you were genuinely dying with how sickly you looked but he eased up when he saw your little eyes peek over at him and he saw you were just fine�� maybe not fine but you were alive.

“Hey….” You said weakly, hand attempting to block out the sun from your eyes.

“Hey. Are you good?” He asked, making his way into the room fully to set his things down.

You shrugged, moving your body so you were laying flat on your back and you could get a better look at him. You weren’t sure why but the way his black shirt tightened around his chest and how his arms were far too big for it had your stomach fluttering. Maybe it was your hormones craving to be touched or it was simply exactly what Daryl did to you when he came home from work, all sweaty and worn down.

“Hmm, it’s my period. came early this time and it hurts like a bitch.” you replied, hand placing the hot water bottle on your stomach. The pressure of it slightly makes you wince.

Daryl felt terrible, he knew it wasn’t his doing but still hurt to see you in such pain. Not to mention Daryl had seen you take out hoards of walkers by yourself, he’s seen you get shot too many times and you can take a stab wound like it’s a simple scratch so seeing you like this… in pain and broken down simply because your body is fighting against you, Daryl feels awful. He didn’t know what to do to make you feel better but be there for you and even then, that won’t stop the pain.

However, Daryl sometimes hears his coworkers talk, although they talk in such disgusting ways about women he tends to take in the information and learn from it. One time he overheard his coworker saying how period cramps can be helped with orgasms, he’s not sure if that’s true or not but if it’s the only thing to help you in this moment… he’ll eat it like a hungry man. It’ll also benefit him, he loves coming home after a long day at work and just makeout with your pussy.

“‘M sorry bunny…” he said, climbing onto the bed below you and rubbing your feet comfortingly.

You smiled, hand still gripping onto the hot water bottle as it burned your skin. Daryl continued rubbing your feet, making his way to your calves and your tired knees. The warmth of his fingers felt nice, the roughness of them giving you a slight tingle that led to your heart. You closed your eyes, taking in the pleasure of being touched.

“Ya know I heard orgasms help cramps.” He stated, causing you to let out a laugh.

You weren’t expecting it, it was random and caught you off guard. You guys had sex a lot, any chance you got Daryl would be inside of you but you never let him do anything to you in your period. Not that you think Daryl would care but it was messy and you were honestly embarrassed by it, I mean you literally have blood coming out of your vagina… you don’t expect him to want to get all bloodied up for you. You thought he was kidding but the look on his face was serious.

“Really?” You asked, sitting up on your elbows to face him.

“Yeah, why not.” He stated.

You furrowed your brows, cocking your head to the side like that was the most goofiest thing you had ever heard anyone say. Daryl just ran his hand closer and closer to your underwear, hinting at what he wanted. You obviously didn’t stop him but you did recoil back abit, your thighs slowly inching together as he got higher and higher.

“Ya don’t have to do anything’, just sit back and look pretty for me.” He grinned, watching your facial features change as his arousing words sent shivers down your spine.

“But it’s gonna be messy…” you said, hesitating on whether you wanted to do this or not.

Daryl gave you the stupidest face you’ve ever seen a person give you, he looked to say “really you dumb bitch.” With only his eyes. You were serious though, you were honestly hesitant because you were embarrassed by it.

“When has a little blood ever stopped me??” He asked, his face still with that stupid look on it.

Daryl has been bloodied before, so bloody you couldn’t even recognize him and every time you could end up fucking him silly. This way you can get him all bloody without the harm towards him plus you could ease up those fucking cramps you were experiencing.

You opened your legs again, inching open so Daryl knew he had the right away. As soon as Daryl even thought you were giving him the okay he did not hesitate in getting started immediately. He damn near ripped your panties off, seeing your cunt glistening with a mixture of blood and your wetness. Daryl has eaten cooked dogs before and even fucking worms so he was going to eat you like a fucking steak dinner.

He sat on his knees above you, stripping himself of his vest and his shirt attempting to throw them on the dresser but missing completely. As he did so his eyes were trained on your cunt, he was so ready for it and he was so excited that you actually let him do so. He then bent down, eye to eye with your cunt as he slowly started kissing his way up to it. He kissed the insides of your thighs, not leaving a single spot unmarked, he even left a hickey here and there.

Your legs were already shaking, mostly with excitement but nervousness was also seeking through your body but you didn’t feel it for long before Daryl shoved his face in your pussy. It was so unexpected that you let out almost a pornographic moan causing Daryl to chuckle on your pussy. He started slowly, lapping up the blood that was seeping out of you slowly. You could already feel your cramps stop, instead your stomach was filled with a knot that was deep inside you.

Daryl licked up your cunt, teasing your clit as he licked anywhere but the bundle of nerves. His hands held down your thighs as they started to close around his head, giving him a perfect angle to eat your pussy nice and right. Daryl had all day to make you feel good and he was going to use it all up, hoping that maybe the neighbors could hear your pleas and moans.

“Daryl…” you moaned, the words basically imprinted on your tongue from how often you say it.

He was only egged on by your moans, his lips suckled down on your clit. You were right when you said it was going to be messy, the white towel you had placed down is now red, Daryl’s upper half is soaked with your blood and his hair was covered in it too. You got so lost in lust and pleasure that you didn’t care about the mess anymore, you just grabbed a fist full of his hair and pushed him closer onto you.

Daryl’s tongue continued lapping at gout pussy, sucking and licking until you were going completely insane. His hands made their way up to your tits, lifting up his black shirt you wore to squeeze the flesh that was there. You were getting lost in ecstasy, so high in the clouds that you forgot you were even bleeding in the first place. That was Daryl’s plan all along, making sure you forgot how your body was literally shedding itself of old tissue, which honestly fascinated the hell out of Daryl.

“M so close Daryl…” you moaned, gripping onto his hair harder.

Daryl looked up, peeking up to see you high in the clouds. Your back was arched, your eyes shut tightly and your hand making sure his hands stayed massaging your tits. He thought you looked so beautiful, so angelic and so fucking sexy, he could stay like this forever if you’d only let him. Daryl knew how to make you cum and he knew how to do it well too so he took his free hand and stuffed two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out while his tongue worked in your clit.

The knot in your stomach grew tighter, becoming so unbelievably tight it became so uncomfortable as if you didn’t cum it would quite literally kill you. Your hips started to grind against his face, holding his head in place as you did so. His nose was now deep inside your slit, his tongue still lapping your bloody cunt and his fingers going at a slow and teasing pace.

“fuck… shit…. Daryl I’m cumming!!” You screamed, his actions only picking up in pace.

Just then the knot in your stomach exploded, your juices spilling out of you, mixing in with your blood. You continued to grind on his face, this time your thrust was jagged and jumpy. Daryl tongue fucked you through your orgasm, shoved his fingers in and out of you even through your walls were contracting against them. You came with a loud scream, sounding as though you had been being murdered.

After your hips had stopped bucking violently and the only thing you felt now was the soft aftershocks of the mind shattering orgasm, leaving your body shaking softly, Daryl was working his tongue on you still. He lapped up all the blood and cum that had been left behind, taking it all in and tasting the metallic sweet taste it left behind. You were sensitive now, overstimulated and every time his tongue touched your sensitive bud, your hips would jolt up and your thighs would attempt to close.

When Daryl was finally done with you, making sure your cunt was clean and rid of all juices, he pulled away from you. His face was dripping with you, blood marked his entire face almost and it was damn near dripping off of him. You looked into his lust blown blue eyes, seeing his softness in them which honestly turned you in more. He just did the most disgusting thing and his eyes are still so soft when they look at you, how can someone so rough and scary be so angelic to you.

You don’t know what came over you but for some reason you had the violent urge to kiss his bloodied lips. You sat up still looking him right in the eyes as you grabbed him by his face and pulled him into a rough kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, lapping your juices up and taking them into your own mouth. Most would be disgusted at what you were doing, all of this would be horrific to them but not you. You found what he did so fucking attractive and he did it all for you, well maybe his self just a little.

“Do you feel better?” He said pulling away from you, seeing how your face was now covered with your own blood. You just smiled up at him, leaving soft kisses along his jaw.

“I mean for the most part… I think I might need another orgasm though.” You joked, sucking and licking at his neck now.

Daryl chuckled lowly, eyes closing as you created small love bites on his neck. You wanted him more than ever now and he was gladly going to give you everything your little heart desired. He just pulled you off of him, laying you down so your head hit the pillows and readied himself for the long, messy night that was to come.

“Anything for my bunny” he said before moving in between your legs once again, ready to overstimulate and fuck you until you were begging him to stop.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #darly dixon #the walking dead

[mothwingwritings]

C and F for my boy Pickle

Eyyy sorry for the delay! (Yes I am still working on these!!!) Here is some Pickle goodness for you my dear.~<3

WARNINGS: Sex and violence and one love sick feral man.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Pickle would honestly treat you as nicely as he is able too. His living environment has its limitations, but he does everything he can to make it comfortable and inviting for you, adamant about making it a home that is fitting of his mate.

Once you are safely stashed away in his secret abode he sets to work constructing you a nest of things so that you may find pinnacle contentment in your new home. He’s gathered an amalgamation of the softest blankets, clothes, linen, etc. that has been given to him or that he has scavenged, so that you may rest in peace and luxury while in his presence. He also brings you the best cuts of meat after his hunts, though he caught on quickly that you were apt to turn your nose at his bloody, raw offering (he couldn’t quite understand why, he was sure you would love it if you just gave it a chance). Once he picks up on your distaste, he instead begins to hoard ingredients and snacks he steals picks up out in the world, supplying you all manner of foodstuff till he pins down the ones you like.

While Pickle prefers you in your natural state, he understands your body needs protection from the elements. He doesn’t quite get modern fashion, but you seem sad wearing the same thing over and over again. While he’s out he procures a hodge-podge of varying clothing, presenting it to you by dumping it at your feet, a huge dopey grin on his face. He loves seeing you in the clothing he gifts you, you look so beautiful in each and every piece that he can’t help but stare, holding back the urge to rip it right back off and have his way with you.

Pickle won’t mock you and wouldn’t dream of disrespecting you in anyway. Any harm he causes you is either completely unintentional or for your own good. He loses control of himself sometimes, forgetting his own strength. You are just so small and he loves you so much, it’s hard to hold himself back. He hates using his strength against you to prove a point, but if you remain insistent on trying to escape him he will do what he must to protect you. You are HIS mate and HE’S the only one who can take care of you. All that’s waiting for you in this strange new world is danger, so if you won’t stay by his side willingly, he will force you there.

All that said, while you may be relatively safe from Pickle’s more violent tendencies, anyone else most certainly is NOT. If another person approaches you, threatens you, or tries to take you away from him they will be obliterated, decimated, ripped to shreds, torn apart until nothing is left. He’ll bask in the gruesome slaughter, their end another validation that he is the best one for you, the one who loves and can protect you above all others. Doesn’t matter if that person is a stranger or your own mother-he is all you need, anyone else butting in is an unnecessary threat.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He would find it incredibly charming if you tried to fight him. Pickle doesn’t see it as an act of aggression at all, but views it as you trying to mimic him as a sign of reverence. You think he is so impressive and strong that you strive to be like him, going so far as to challenge him to a fight. It’s adorable, and he can’t help but break out into a huge toothy grin when he sees you assume a fighting stance.

And it excites him- seeing you tense up, clenching your fists and bending your knees, preparing to strike at a moment’s notice. Seconds before the fray, you stare him down with such intensity, sizing him up and calculating what moves you should make against him, gears turning in your head as you focus wholly on him. The fixation on him sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. He is the only one you are thinking of in that moment, and in turn you are all that is occupying his thoughts.

Your strikes never hurt him and he can tell how much that frustrates you. He’ll play along sometimes to make you happy, yowling like a mother lioness that is being batted by her cub. He’ll cringe at your punch, shy away from your kick. If he’s convincing enough, you sometimes award him with a small smile, a brief look of accomplishment. It warms his heart, knowing you are having as good of a time as he is.

He also relishes the closeness the two of you share when you initiate these little fights. Usually you try and hide away from him, distancing yourself as much as possible whenever he is in the vicinity. At first he thought it was another game you were trying to play with him, something coy, cute, and seductive to grab his attention. But when the chase became a regular thing he was disappointed, why did you put up such a fuss each time your mate tried to approach you? You didn’t even give him a prize when he finally caught you, just flailing and screaming and spitting. It hurt his feelings- this was supposed to be fun.

But the little brawls you had were fun, and they gave him a chance to have you near him without any to-do. He could feel your skin on his, smell your sweat as your body writhed and wriggled against his. Feeling your small hands grab at his hulking form, listening to your strained moans and heavy breathing as you threw your all into attacking him… Witnessing you in such a state, holding you close as your body rubbed his in just the right way, it doesn’t take long for him to completely lose control.

Before you can recognize what is going on, your body is sheathing his cock, previous grunts of exertion quickly turning into wails of pleasure.

He doesn’t understand why you cry so much afterwards, though. Were you not having as much fun as he was? You initiated the fight, why are you so upset at the outcome? It was a good tussle, and judging by the noises you were making, he was able to make you feel good. Even if you struggled a bit when he was trying to enter you, you always end up yielding to him. The fit is tight, and there have been several times he was afraid he would outright break you when he pushed deeper, pressing into your core.  But the pleasure that courses through him as he bottoms out is indescribable. He loses himself in the feel of you surrounding him, completely consumed by the euphoria your body has supplied him.

You are his perfect mate, his brave little warrior, and his love for you is endless. So don’t cry, OK? Maybe next time he’ll let you really ‘win.’ :)

#These alphabet asks were sent in months ago but sometimes it be like that :) #pickle x reader #baki pickle #baki pickle x reader #pickle x y/n #baki pickle x y/n #baki the grapper reader insert #baki the grappler x reader #yandere baki x reader #yandere baki the grappler x y/n #yandere baki the grappler #yandere baki the grappler x reader #yandere baki x y/n #yandere pickle #yandere pickle x reader #yandere pickle x y/n #I feel like yandere Pickle would actually be pretty sweet #his main horrible feature is that you are HIS and his ass is NOT sharing #and you will be very very very sore from all the bestial love making #so my condolences #yandere alphabet #mothwingswritings #I hope you enjoy!

[pparadiselost]

overdriven.

msby black jackals x fem reader the black jackals are rewarded with an unexpected surprise after a hard won game. warning(s): nsfw, dubious consent, gangbang, degradation, creampie, breeding minors do not interact.

the msby black jackals give it their all when they play. volleyball is their raison d’etre, the very sport they’ve dedicated their entire lives to. that being said, it’s no surprise that being pro players brings them a hoard of benefits that the average person couldn’t even dream of. 

but they’re in for a surprise after a hard earned victory—

—a pretty girl waits for them in the locker room: a doll-like sweetheart thrown to the wolves in order to help them let off some extra steam after such an intense game.

(“she’s all yours, gentleman!” kuroo had laughed heartily, beaming at you with honed cat-like eyes. it’s a perfect mimicry of a trained predator. “it’s the least i can do for you all on a job well done!”)

they really don’t need to be told twice.

bokuto gets to work quickly, grabbing you from behind and hoisting you up to his hips with his strong arms. his big hands make quick work of your thighs, spreading your trembling legs open fully so that your glistening cunt can fully take him in. it hurts—from just how stupid big his cock is, but bokuto’s determined to get all of himself into you. 

“t-too big, bokuto-san-!” you choke out, gripping at his forearms. his thrusts only speed up, your gasps only fueling him. he can’t help it. he’s so pumped up from having that much fun on the court, and your pussy won’t stop rubbing and tightening all up against him. you’re also so small in comparison to him too, that when he can feel you turning into jelly in his arms and melting into his chest, bokuto’s fascinated beyond belief.

he wants to break you, even if he isn’t fully aware of it yet.

bokuto’s the first to make you cum. he gets so excited when he feels you gush and cream around him. he did it! he made a pretty girl feel so good on his cock that you came all over him! bokuto doesn’t even give you room to breathe before he’s pounding into you again, his heavy balls slapping mercilessly against the curve of your ass. 

he wants to feel that again! he wants to make you cum again, wants to feel you pulse and quiver all over his dick again! he doesn’t care if there’s a whole locker room full of other horny men staring the two of you down—his hands are groping your entire body. your soft thighs, cute tits, gripping at your throat so he can pull you down further onto his girthy cock…

you’re still reeling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he forced out of you when atsumu grabs you by your hair, dragging your face down under his navel until your face-to-face with his dick. he looks so obscenely smug, looking down at you from above like you’re some inferior being bowing down to him.

“now, bokkun,” atsumu cooes, yanking your face forward so that your lips ghost over the tip of his drooling length, “let’s not get too excited here. she’s meant for all of us, isn’t she?”

“‘m not done with her yet,” bokuto frowns, and his nails dig into your waist as he pumps his hips forward. you let out a loud cry, and you can feel his dick twitch prominently deep inside of your stretched out hole. 

atsumu keeps his fake smile plastered on his face. “if you wanted her to yourself so badly, then you should try scoring at least 50 points on your own in the next match. maybe then i’d consider it.”

“-but until then-” atsumu grips your hair, and you’re given a split second to open your mouth before he’s shoving his cock down your throat. “you’re going to have to share.”

you clench your eyes shut. everything burns momentarily. the tip of atsumu’s cock effortlessly hits the back of your throat, and the blond hisses under his breath when his engorged dick is rewarded with your warm and tight mouth. he thrusts slowly into you, almost like he’s pretending that he’s fucking your pussy instead. 

you let your jaw fall slack as atsumu fills all of your senses. the noxious taste and stench of his pre-cum floods your tongue and cheeks, and his thick pubic hair ghosts across your nose when he forces his cock further into you. 

“what a good girl. being spitroasted feels good, doesn’t it?” atsumu weakly chuckles. his other hand moves to caress your face, his thumb tracing over your eyelids while you force deep breaths through your nostrils. unlike atsumu’s leisurely pace, bokuto won’t stop ramming into you like the pussy-drunk madman he is, and your muffled moans only make atsumu shiver with pleasure. 

“take it-,” bokuto pants out, determined to feel you cumming around him again. “take it all, pretty girl- want you to feel you around me-”

you splutter and choke all over atsumu’s cock, barely able to focus on the dick shoved down your windpipe through the overstimulation. he’s making a mess out of your cunt, and all you can hear (besides from the heckling) is the loud squelching noises your poor body getting the daylights railed out of you.

“feels good-” the grey-haired man ruts his hips harder. “pretty pussy feels good- wanna cum inside of it-”

cold fear shoots up your chest, and you unintentionally clamp down on him. bokuto lets out a strangled cry at the sudden sensation, and before you can yank yourself off of atsumu’s cock (not that his grip would let you), bokuto’s digging his heels into the floor and slamming down as deep as he can into you. 

he cums, and he cums hard. 

you nearly shriek on atsumu’s cock, your tongue catching over his soaked dick as bokuto’s sticky cum invades your poor hole. it feels like it’s burning you from inside out, drenching every part of your fluttering cunt white. bokuto groans loudly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he thrusts slowly, riding out his high for as long as he can. he feels a flicker of pride when he feels his cum frothing and pooling up at the base of his cock, and when he pulls his dick out of you, the large gob of semen that falls out of you with a ‘plop’ on the floor makes him grin. 

“you’re fucked up for that, bokkun.” atsumu brings your mouth down further on his dick, earning a strangled cry from you. “focus, sweetie. don’t tell me you’re gonna be fucked dumb just from taking bokuto.”

his rhythm speeds up rapidly, and you’re left moaning and fighting to keep yourself in one piece. his cock rubs against your mouth invasively, and the vibrations from your cries only makes fucking your mouth feel that much better. atsumu thinks you look absolutely precious, crying and gagging on his dick. 

“c’mon,” the blond slaps at your face lightly. “keep up. i’m not going anywhere till i see that cute mouth of yours drinking up my cum.”

and he keeps true to it. atsumu wishes he could take a picture of your lips wrapped around his thick cock, keep the image of you obediently bobbing your head against his hips in his phone so that he can beat one out later. every time you blink up at him through your tear-clumped lashes and do your best to make him feel good by dragging your tongue over his sensitive cockhead, his resolve wavers.

god, what he wouldn’t do to whisk you away and keep you as his own personal fuckbuddy.

“that’s it, that’s it, darling,” he purrs. his breathing shallows, and his once steady ruts against your jaw tremble and stiffen. “hah- you’re such a good slut, you know that? ‘m gonna give you all my cum, ‘kay? make sure to swallow it all, or i’ll just fuck it into your pussy instead.”

you nod hesitantly, your throat constricting around his length perfectly. atsumu can’t help but grin down at you, just the same way he does when he manages to score a point in a match that no one saw coming, and his hold on your scalp tightens painfully as he forces you down his length all the way.

he pumps you up and down on his dick once, twice, like a glorified fleshlight before he’s cumming with a low groan. you try to loosen your sore jaw up the best you can, immediately swallowing around his twitching and throbbing cock the best you can. hot loads of cum overload your consciousness, and the salty-bitter tang of atsumu’s semen coats every part of your mouth while you try to stomach as much of it as you can.

“fucking hell… you’re going to be the death of me-” atsumu pulls himself out of you, leaving you coughing for air as your windpipe finally clears up for the first time since he got his hands on you. a few droplets of his cum catch on your lips, and you lick your lips with your cum-stained tongue and make a show of swallowing it all. wordlessly you open your mouth up to show that you swallowed it all, that you took everything he gave you like the good whore atsumu said you were.

he smacks your face lightly again. “good girl. hinata, sakusa, she’s all yours now.”

“why should i get your sloppy seconds?” sakusa grumbles as he tugs at his uniform’s waistband. he shoots atsumu a mirthful glare, but he still whips out his cock.

you whimper when he slaps the tip against your lips. your mouth is still heavy with the taste of atsumu’s cum, but sakusa clicks his tongue at you.

“hey, all eyes on me.” his tip smears over your mouth, not quite pushing into you. he was definitely enjoying the view, watching you scrunch your face up and shudder under him as he prodded at your face with his dick. “it’s rude not to pay attention to someone when they’re talking to you.”

your core throbs with arousal, and your thighs are sticky and heay with your own slick and bokuto’s dried up cum. you open your mouth to shower sakusa’s cock with kitten-licks, lapping up any drops of pre-cum that was beading up around his slit. you moan softly, not taking him into your mouth quite yet, but licking all up and down his length. 

sakusa lets out a low groan, and he twitches against your lips. even through the muddy fog building up in your head, you feel a small twinge of pride bloom in your chest. knowing that you could get the ever-so-austere sakusa to crack, you lapped at his dick a little more exaggeratedly.

“such a slutty girl,” sakusa whispers under his breath. he grips the base of his cock and presses it against your lips again. his stomach coils and tightens around nothing, wanting no more of your silly games and to fuck that shameless mouth of your senseless. “open up.”

you listen to him. sakusa’s quick to exploit you, slamming his hips in all the way until your nose is at his navel. you cough and gag, not expecting him to stuff your throat with his cock like that, but sakusa only grabs at your hair and force you to stay there. your chest burns as you splutter and try to breathe around him, but sakusa thinks your throat feels addictively good as it constricts and pulses around him.

“choking already? and here i was, thinking you could take it. you were deepthroating atsumu’s cock like you couldn’t get enough of it,” he mocks. you whine around his dick, fighting past your discomfort to move your head in tandem with his hips. his cockhead keeps hammering into the back of your mouth, leaving you drooling all over him and yourself. 

he frowns disapprovingly, and he pumps his hips into you roughly. you cry out, and your entire torso burns from having your windpipe bullied by his cock. he’s too big, too rough, too much for you to handle entirely, yet you’re still kneeling before him like the obedient little pawn you are, sucking him off like he’ll throw a word of praise at you or something.

and sakusa, being the keen man he is, knows you’re getting off to being manhandled like this. he sneers down at you, and his eyes narrow slightly. “look at you, drooling all over yourself like that. you’re making a fucking mess everywhere. dirty little cockslut—that’s all you are.”

your pussy clenches around nothing, and you moan into his hips. god, it’s so humiliating, getting off to being insulted like this while a whole team of volleyball players pass you around, even with a whole dick shoved down your esophagus. you squirm underneath sakusa, and despite the fatigue building in your body, you want more.

his dick throbs against the inside of your cheeks, and sakusa watches you intently as you bob your head the best you can. slurping at his dick, hollowing your face out, and humming gently so that everything you do pleasures him, there’s something particularly wicked about how much sakusa enjoys breaking you down.

then again, he’s always been a little bit of a sadist.

“filthy girl,” sakusa sighs. his thrusts stammer slightly, and you’re more than happy to make up for it by taking more of him into your mouth. “are you gonna swallow my cum? are you gonna take it all?”

you moan loudly in response, imitating a nod as you jerked him off with your mouth. 

“if you’re so eager to drink it, then i guess i have no choice,” he hisses. “even though the last thing i want to do is give someone like you my cum. be grateful.”

his thrusts become rougher, and you can barely keep up as he fucks your mouth without any regard towards you. he grips your face with his big hands, keeping you in place as he shoves himself down your gullet as deep as he can, and when your throat clamps up around him, sakusa cums with a low groan. his abs flex, and his balls tighten up against your mouth, emptying himself into you. 

it hurts. it burns. 

the corners of your eyes prick with tears as you try and stomach whatever you can swallow, and sakusa guides himself slowly through his climax by thrust in and out of your cum-drenched mouth. part of it seeps past your swollen lips and drips down to your chin. streaks of pearly white cover your skin before it drips down onto your breasts. 

he pushes back on your forehead with his hand, and you release his dick with a soft ‘pop.’ you nearly fall to the floor in a heap right there and then. your vision spins violently from the lack of air, and while you cough and struggle to gain your bearings, sakusa presses his lips into a thin line. 

“making a mess yet again… how unsightly,” he grumbles under his breath. you press your forehead against the floor, completely undone after only about three rounds. you can barely see through your blurring field of sight the number of men who crowd around like starved beasts, and if the long matches are anything to go by, their stamina easily takes them for multiple rounds.

you’re trembling uncontrollably by the time hinata’s calloused hands rub at your back and waist. the young man coos at you sweetly, like he’s calming down a scared animal rather than waiting to fuck a live, sentient human being. he presses calming circles into your skin while he uses his body to shield you from everyone else’s view, waiting for you to regain your bearings somewhat.

“kuroo-san’s really gone and done it this time,” hinata laughs. your vision’s still blurring in and out, but your breathing stabilizes. “i wonder how he managed to get his hands on a pretty little thing like you.”

“h-hinata-san…!”

planting one hand flat on your back and pushing your upper half against the ground, his other hand grabs at your hips and drags it upwards. your ass is in the air while hinata pins your chest against the ground, and he looks down at you with such a faux apologetic smile that your heart drops. 

“sorry, princess,” hinata’s chest presses up against your back, and your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his bare cock rubbing against your slit. his tip catches on your swollen clit, and you whimper like a wounded animal as he ruts against your entrance. “if kuroo-san went through all this trouble to reward us, it’d be rude to not take it…”

he penetrates you slowly, and his eyes stay fixated on you to catch every single one of your reactions. your breath hitches, a high-pitched whine coming from your chest when you feel his cock stretching out your sensitive pussy.

your walls coil and twist around him, sucking him in deeper. hinata exhales through his nose when he bottoms out, his palm patting at your ass gently. “fuuuuuuuck, you’re really taking me in… even after having bokuto-san fuck you, you’re still so tight…!”

hinata fucks into you from behind. his thrusts are strong and hard, his toned thighs slapping against the back of your legs and leaving you quivering in the aftermath. shockwaves of pleasure rip through your core, and your pussy drools at how ruthlessly hinata’s dick feels inside you.

the sound of skin-on-skin fills the room again, and you’re mewling into the floor with your head in your arms. he’s the perfect size: his tip ghosts over your sweet spot, and his girth spreads you open the perfect amount. it’s like he’s teasing you, keeping you that close to the brink.

“feels good- more, hinata-san-!” you choke out. your toes curl as his dick throbs and rubs up into your wet walls, your insides clenching up and milking his cock for dear life. “more, more- do me more, please!”

“oh? you like that?” hinata grinds his hips against you harder, and your body threatens to cave in on itself. “you like being fucked like this, sweetheart? you like being fucked like a whore in front of my entire team?”

“h-having your dick in me feels good- your dick feels so good!,” you sob into your hands. you can feel the remnants of bokuto’s cum lurching deep inside of you, and every time hinata’s dick prods at your cervix, you can’t help but moan lewdly. 

he keeps stirring up your insides, observing your body to see what brings out the strongest reactions. you’re squirming and crying out underneath him, trapped underneath his heavy body and being pressed flush to the ground. 

you never knew being manhandled could feel this good.

“hah- you’re sucking me in so much- that pussy of yours won’t stop taking my dick-,” hinata pants. he continues to grind into you, and his leaking tip won’t stop bruising against your deepest spot. he’s reducing you into a teary, begging mess without even doing much, just by bullying his cock into your stretched out cunt. you can’t stop gushing around his dick, your pussy overwhelmed and drinking up how good it feels to have a man’s cock making a mess out of it. 

you arch your back, your cunt coiling up. the knot deep in your stomach twists around itself, threatening to snap at any given moment, and you’re so far gone from the feeling of being fucked out like a whore that you can barely slur out your words. “gonna cum…! please- wanna cum, wanna cum so bad…!”

“yeah? are you gonna cum on my cock? is my cock making you feel that good?” hinata taunts. you nod, practically slobbering all over yourself as you try to move your hips back against his, wanting more of him inside you and messing you up. the pleasure’s ridiculously overwhelming, to the point that you know your pussy’s gonna be beyond saving by the time these men are done running a train on you. but you don’t care: all that’s on your mind right now is stuffing your slutty hole with as much cum and dick as you possibly can.

your thighs shake uncontrollably, and you can barely keep your ass up in the air. your body is on the verge of collapsing, and hinata firmly plants his hands around your hips to keep you right where you are. 

“so close- ‘m so close, hinata-san…!” you plead. you shakily reach down your stomach with one hand, rubbing desperate circles down onto your clit. you nearly cum right there and then, your senses overrun by the pleasure of touching yourself and having hinata ravish you. 

he smacks your ass gently, his fingers rubbing circles into your soft flesh. “c’mon- stay with me a little longer, pretty girl- let me have my fun too… ‘m almost there with you.”

you clench up around him, sucking in your stomach as you frantically toy with your clit. he’s close, you know he’s close, yet the thought of cumming with him has you almost passing out from how lewd it feels. all these volleyball players that you admired from afar, often in the bleachers or on tv, are having their way with you. fucking your mouth, forcing you to swallow their cum, stuffing your abused pussy with as much semen as you can humanly take…

“you ready? are you gonna let me creampie you, sweetheart?” hinata grips your body.

“yes-! cum inside me- want it inside me, hinata-san…!” you gasp out. he grunts as he keeps you firmly in place, pumping his swollen cock into you roughly. you nearly fall over from the motion, and your body chokes up at the rough shockwaves of pure euphoria that overtake your core.

“that’s right. take it all for me, princess.” he buries his cock as deep as he can into you, and your arch your back all pretty for him. a loud whimper manages to escape through your lips when you feel him pulse in your pussy before he cums inside of you. he feels like a second heartbeat in your cunt, the way his dick throbs and twitches as he empties his heavy balls. your stomach immediately feels heavy, his cum flooding your hole and mixing in with whatever bokuto left inside you.

“c-cumming…!” the knot in your stomach snaps. the added pressure of feeling hinata cum inside of you topples you over the edge, and you’re crying loudly as your pussy tightens around his orgasming cock like a vice. hinata grits his teeth as he feels you creaming around him, your pussy clinging to every inch and vein on his girthy dick like your life depends on it. it’s fitting, for a cock-hungry slut like you, to end up cumming on him while he fills that insatiable cunt of yours up with his loaded semen.

you’re reeling on the floor, twitching and gasping for air. your mind is clouded, and you can barely feel your own body as hinata slowly yanks himself out of you. he watches with unwavering eyes as your hole flutters and gapes, and a few drops of pearly white cum drip out of your pussy and down your thighs.

“so pretty,” hinata laughs, patting your ass. “bet that felt good, huh?”

you can’t even answer him as he wipes his cock clean on your legs, smearing more of his cum all over your messed up body. 

he stands up and motions for someone else to come over. “alright, who’s up next?”

…

…

…

how long has this been going on for? everything blurs over in your head. all you remember is the dull throngs of pleasure consuming your body, your legs held open and stretched out as every member of the black jackals indulge in their turn. hands pull at your tits and twist your face, and you can barely recall the number of men you’ve kissed or blown off with your mouth, your lips sensitive and bruised from the onslaught you took.

you’re overstimulated beyond comprehension, to the point that just having someone’s fingers ghost over your abused clit has you squirming and squealing incoherently. you can’t even form words properly, only crying out from the uncontrollable pleasure you’re being subjected to. 

how many rounds have they gone? how much sex have you had? you don’t know, and at this point, you don’t even care. your pussy is long gone, heavy and twitching from the amount of semen that’s been shoved into you. you can’t even recall how many times you came from being rough-handled in such a demeaning manner, yet you managed to get off on it the most. 

“hey, hey, why don’t we try something?” someone calls out. you think you recognize the boisterous voice as he grabs at you, big hands easily molding you into the position that he wants. you can’t bring yourself to clear your mind enough to see who’s grabbing at you—after a while, all the different bodies all feel the same.

“whaddya have in mind, bokkun?”

the man grabbing at you giggles, and he presses his still big cock flush against your cum-drenched cunt. not putting it in directly just yet, but teasing you as he grinds against your slit. 

“why don’t we have a competition to see who can knock her up first? don’t you think that’d be fun?”

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata shoyo #miya atsumu #sakusa kiyoomi #bokuto kotaro #x reader #fem reader #my writing

[spacecowboyhotch]

In Plain Sight, Ch 2: A Hoard of Cupids

summary: nathan’s much more insightful about you than he used to be. it’s making you uneasy…and curious.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, pining, nathan trying to be nice but he’s so abrasive lol, pining, mentions of caretaking/sick family members, mentions of emotionally abusive parents, masturbation (m), sub!nathan if you squint

wc: 2,745

AN: back at it with part twoooo. thank you all for the kind words and support on this fic, i didn’t expect it to get the response it did but i’m really excited to give y’all the rest. fair warning that these chapters seem to be getting longer as i write on. happy reading!

in plain sight masterlist | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

Nathan gives you space— at first. When you return the next day at 7 a.m. sharp he’s nowhere to be found. Not in the living room or in the kitchen, not on his patio boxing. You assume he’s in his room, probably toying with one of his bots in a distasteful manner. The idea makes you shudder. But is it not easier to come to work with every task he could want you to do placed on his desk, no fuss?

You don’t like Nathan Bateman. He’s a pompous asshole, a know it all, a man who thinks only about his own desires. When he apologized— or rather attempted to— yesterday you thought that maybe you slipped and fallen down the stairs on your way out. By his standards, it was a top tier apology. You’d never once heard him apologize to anyone. On your drive home you had wondered if he had ever apologized in his life. The thought made you giggle, and then you’d turned up the music and forgotten about him until right now.

Sat at your desk, an ungodly stack of things to do. There’s a note sat on top. It’s simple and straightforward, lacking emotion but somehow still has your stomach flipping. It reads:

In meetings all day— let me know if you need anything. Go home early today.

Mr. Bateman

P.S. I’ll spruce up my apologizing skills.

You regard the note cautiously, raising your brow at it before you let yourself laugh a little. Was this a joke or had Nathan Bateman taken some criticism to heart (which is rumored to not exist). You fold the note up, and for some reason slip it into your bag.

The last thing that’s on your mind is that Nathan’s watching you. He sits in the dark at his monitors, leaning in closely. His eyes trace your figure on the screens intensely, watching as you read and read and read. He expects no reaction from you beside maybe throwing it in the trash. But then you laugh, and he watches you store it for safekeeping. A piece of him will go home with you. Nathan never thought he’d be jealous of a piece of paper, not when he seems to have the entire world at his fingertips.

—

He returns to his normal behavior after a week— partially because he thinks you settled in. And partially because…well he begrudgingly can admit to himself, in the comfort of his own mind, that he misses you. When you get to work the next Monday he’s sat on an observation table, examining what looks like a deconstructed robot brain.

You aren’t even able to open your mouth and say good morning before he’s talking to you.

“Are you sleeping okay?” He asks, his eyes appraising you intensely.

You stop in your tracks, regarding him as always, your expression pieced into that calm expression. So you’re back to normal, none of that fire. He expected it but that doesn’t keep him from feeling disappointed.

“Sir?”

“You look really fucking tired. Exhausted,” He tacts on for good measure.

Your spine goes completely rigid, your grip on your bag tightening. You are tired. So very tired. You work shitty hours for incredible money and then go home to take care of your younger sisters and mother. Dealing with Nathan is for them. For your sisters’ schooling, so they won’t feel left out when the other kids have the newest gadget or shoes. For your mother’s ever piling medical bills. It’s important that you don’t jeopardize something so precious.

“Is it affecting my work? Have I done something wrong?” You ask him softly.

“No— that’s not why I’m—“ He stutters before closing his mouth and starting anew. You’ve never seen him like this. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was flustered. But knowing Nathan, he’s just never asked a single employee he’s ever had if they’re alright. “I’m your boss, I worry about your well being. That’s what good bosses do.”

“Are you sure?” You ask evenly, eyes still trained on him.

“Am I—“ He stops, eyes wide for a fraction of a second before he bites away his smile. “Are you fucking with me?”

If he was looking at you so intentionally he would miss the way your mouth twitches. “I’m fine, Mr. Bateman. I have a lot of responsibilities, not only here but out there as well.”

“Out there?”

“The real world. Thank you for the concern, sir.”

For the second time, you’ve rendered Nathan speechless. That night he lays in bed thinking of you, like many nights prior. He turns your words over in his head time and time again. The real world. Do you think he doesn’t know what it’s like out there? He wonders how much research you’d done for the job. Nathan used his brain to get here, climbing and climbing. He hadn’t been born into this but his personality lent itself to such a conclusion. Nathan knows what his real world used to look like, though one day he hopes that any of his contraptions can help him forget. He wonders what your real world looks like.

There’s no ring on your finger, but you could have a partner. Kids? Another job? He pays you well enough for that to not be necessary. Maybe you volunteer at a puppy shelter. He could picture it. You in something other than your stuffy work clothes, a smile on your face as you drown in puppy breath and slobber.

He groans, rolling over in bed to plant his face deeply in the pillow. Maybe he can smother himself out of this. Thinking about puppies? He might as well be one, he’s practically lovesick if you have him thinking like this. When would he get used to feeling this way? His usual cynical thoughts feel like they’re being pillaged by a hoard of cupids.

He doesn’t even know if you feel the same. Being better for you is one thing, but what if there’s no payoff? What if he changes for you and you leave him high and dry? Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. He feels the back of his neck sweating and sits up.

Nathan’s been down this road before, it’s brought him his fortune and an insane work ethic. It’s all brought him sorrow he’ll never be able to escape. Being with his parents feels like a fever dream sometimes and other times he feels 6 again, like he’s drowning in their expectations and insults, trying to measure up. He’d given up eventually, once he realized that they would never love him the way parents should. Why try to do anything anyone wanted but himself when they could still treat him poorly for it?

He’s the way he is from his own indoctrination. He doesn’t know where he would be if he hadn’t convinced himself that he was the only person that truly matters.

But, now there’s you. You, who looks so soft, you that scratches an itch he didn’t even realize he had. You, that he wants to goad and prod and poke until you unleash all of yourself on him. He closes his eyes and lays back, envisioning you right here with him. He feels insane, his heart— his mind, his dick— are taking him through a whirlwind of emotions right now.

He palms himself through his boxers, eyes squeezing shut tighter than before as he tries to narrate. He pictures you in one of his white shirts, it’s fabric nearly see-through with the way it clings to your breasts. He grasps his length through his boxers letting out a heaving sigh. Fuck he wishes this was you.

If there’s anything that Nathan knows how to do its not only being smartest but the most imaginative. He’s been daydreaming for as long as he can remember. Universes with better outcomes— having worth, or loving parents or anyone for that matter. Anyone to be on his side. He imagined codes and synthetic body parts that live and breathe in front of him. He can surely imagine you, breathy and horny in his bed, jerking him off. He doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, or inappropriate. He wants you, and maybe this is the only way he can have you. He slides his boxers down, finally done teasing himself. Licking his palm, he grabs his cock, starts stroking and succumbs to the thought of you.

Another moan bubbles out of his throat. He can see your nipples through his shirt when you straddle him like this. Your thighs are soft against his own and he would reach for your free hand, thread his fingers through your own. Your hands are smaller than his, smooth and supple. And god, you’re stroking him just the way he likes it, the soft wet sound making pleasure shoot through his groin.

You’d overstimulate him wouldn’t you? With that clever mouth barely pulling up a grin, eyes full of fire as you stroke him past the point of pleasure. Would you make him watch? See the way your hands would grow slick and shiny with his cum as you kept pumping and pumping, pushing him to another release. Covering you both in him, until you’re too needy to keep toying with him. Nathan cums just as he’s imagining the feeling of you dragging your bare pussy against his sensitive cock. He whines and keens off the bed, the high singing in his veins. He swears he can almost imagine the way you would moan.

His eyes open, the spell broken. He’s alone, covered in his own spend, chest heaving like he just ran a 10k. He avoids his reflection when he walks into the bathroom to clean up. His loneliness spikes again and he heads to the kitchen, reaching for the first bottle he can find.

—

“You’re late,” He says stiffly, crossing his arms as he watches you cross the space to sit at your desk.

The day after he’d gotten off thinking of you he’d had the slightest difficulty looking at you. It quickly faded, he was too greedy. Too needy, if he’s being honest. He can’t get enough, he doesn’t know if he could ever say it but you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

You’re openly frazzled; your shirt isn’t tucked in, your hair is a little more frizzy than usual and you look as tired as ever. He regrets his biting tone immediately.

Even as you explain you’re moving, setting your to-go mug on the desk, fetching your calendar, booting up your computer. “I know, I’m sorry, Mr. Bateman. My sisters were less than cooperative this morning.”

Nathan turns completely away from the bins he’s been searching through, raising a brow at you in surprise, “Your sisters?”

“Yes— one is 7 the other is 14. The little made getting out of the house…difficult,” You murmur distractedly, eyes trained on your screen.

“Isn’t that your parents’ fucking job?”

His question snaps you back to the present— you hadn’t shared nearly as much as you could’ve. But you’d gone into this job wanting to be nameless and faceless. Memorable only for the quality of the work you do.

You shake your head, daring a quick glance in his direction that you immediately regret when your eyes meet his.“I realized that I’ve shared far too much about my personal life. I should work, Mr. Bateman.”

Nathan immediately understands your deflecting. How many times has he been asked by reporters and interviewers where his family is? Enough times that he’s had his publicist strike the topic from the acceptable lists. That was about all he was good for anyway, Nathan says what he wants when he wants.

He goes back to the task at hand— though now with you here he doesn’t quite remember what that was. A part…some sort of part that he needed. Wires? Screws? A metal plate? He sighs in frustration and leaves without another word.

Your gaze is on the door as soon as it shuts, making sure he’s gone. The tears that you’ve been biting back fall and you bury your face in your hands. Your youngest sister had begged and pleaded for you to stay warm in bed with her this morning. With your mother so sick, you’ve practically raised her yourself these last few years. It makes her needy, which you understand. But what she doesn’t understand is how delicate the balance you found in caring for your entire family is. Middle sister lacks just as much understanding, with heaps of attitude. She doesn’t want to snuggle with you or with younger sister. Mediating this entire situation is what made you late.

It feels like you’re cracking under the pressure but that isn’t an option, is it? As if the universe wants to make it clear, your computer chimes. It’s Nathan, asking you to come to his office.

—

He’d meant to go clear his head in his office and come back to get whatever part he was in need of. But, when he sat in his chair he was met with the sight of you hunched over your desk, presumably crying by the way your shoulders jerked every once and a while.

He’s pinging you before he can think better of it. He watches you read his message. You’re such an anomaly— you sit up immediately, reaching for some tissues and cleaning yourself up as if nothing happened. You even check yourself in the reflection of your computer, fidgeting with your hair, tucking in your shirt once you stand. As soon as you start out of the office he turns off his monitors, not one to be caught snooping around though it’s right and was clear in the contract. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Perhaps you don’t think your anything worth watching…Nathan would like to change that assumption.

“You pinged me, sir?”

How would he play this? He couldn’t admit that he just watched you cry.

“Trying my hand at this apologizing shit again. I— Nathan Bateman— am sorry for being insensitive. Like I said last time, I don’t know your life or you. Alright, how was that?”

“I would say a solid, 5/10, which is a 50% improvement.”

“Fuck me, you’re a tough crowd. What am I docked for? You know I’m all about perfection.”

“There was a lack of originality. And you omitted your middle name.”

It takes everything in Nathan not to giggle. The way the words come out of your mouth are so funny… or maybe he’s just obsessed. It could be both. “My middle name is classified information.”

“Does Wikipedia know that?” You ask, tilting your head in that uncanny way.

Nathan can’t hold in his laugh this time, running a hand over his beard, “You’re funnier than you look.”

Your mouth twitches, and you give him the smallest nod, “Thank you, sir. Is that all?”

He pretends to think about it. “This apology is feeling pretty one-sided to me.”

“I accept your apology, Mr. Bateman, thank you.”

“Accept something else,” He proposes, going out on a limb. Suddenly your stare is too intense, the room is too hot and small. What the fuck is he doing?

“What’s that?” You ask, as soft and sweet as ever.

“Dinner. Tomorrow,” He says simply.

“With you?”

Nathan ignores the twinge in his heart— your tone barely changed. If he wasn’t with you every single day, studying you, he wouldn’t even have noticed.

“I can invite the droids if you want. They’ll just stare at us while we eat.”

Your hand tightens around your planner. Dinner with Nathan…choosing to be around him? It seemed like as of late he was trying to be…more palatable. This could be an act of good faith. But, you have your sisters and mother to think about. You’ve given her nurse enough overtime hours in the last few weeks.

“Without getting too personal, I don’t think I’ll be able to swing it sir, I have to get home to my sisters as soon as possible.”

Yes, your family, that you never talk about. He could accommodate, what’s he the fucking boss for if he can’t?

“We’ll do it early.”

You sway a little as you think about this— that’s new, he thinks to himself, filing that information away for later.

“You’ve already got me apologizing, I can’t add saying please to the list of acceptable behaviors. I’ll lose my fucking edge.”

“How early?”

“3:30.”

“Alright, then, sir.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue , @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @kotaropuppy

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #in plain sight #arson writes #not sfw

[v-ternus]

pebis 8=D

pebis you say? boy do i got a treat for you

// The new ghoul was certainly… something, and he’s sure clueless to what he does to a certain earth ghoul //

Corruption kink, praise, size kink (if you squint) and a nice handy in the common room for you to indulge in :)

Aeon loved his new pack, loved the way they took him and Aurora in so quickly. He especially loved the way they shared parts of themselves— Rain taught him how to swim, Cumulus and Cirrus spent a day watching the sky and clouds with him, showing him how you could tell storms were coming in. Probably the most nerve wracking of all, Dew showed him how to build up the campfires when they wanted to enjoy the cooler summer nights outdoors. Fires hurt, he had murmured when his hand got a little too close to the growing flames. He got to learn the word burn that day.

Besides the accidents with fires and forgetting that he can't breathe underwater, (thanks Rain), his favorite thing was what Mountain had to show him. 

He would’ve guessed that he’d show him the gardens around the abbey, or even take him for a walk through the forest that borders the land– something with his element, like the others had done. Instead, Mountain had led him into the common space one day and told him to get comfortable on the couch. He did as he was told, put himself down with his legs crossed under him and found a blanket to put down on his lap. Mountain was still in front of the TV when he heard a beep and quiet whirring. 

“It’s a console,” Mountain said, and Aeon could only give him a dumbfounded look. “This one’s a PS4, Swiss has an Xbox. You play videogames on them.” 

Aeon chirped, mumbled ok as Mountain started up Spiderman before handing him the controller. Mountain had shown him all the controls, taught him how to swing through New York and be the ‘friendly neighborhood Spiderman’.

Ever since that day, it's become their thing. Every Tuesday after they’ve finished their chores, they’ll play one of the handful of games that sit by the TV. Some days they pick a shooter, or maybe an RPG, sometimes even an old school player versus player. Whatever it is, Aeon always has fun, and Mountain always gets a kick out of watching his bug like eyes that stay trained on the colorful screen.

Today was no exception. Mountain already had Call of Duty started up as Aeon finished his work. 

“Zombies?” Aeon asked as he walked in and dumped himself onto the free space next to Mountain on the couch. Mountain didn't answer, didn't need to. He just picked the mode and handed Aeon his controller. Their afternoons were always easy like this, with little words spoken besides when they were deciding on a game. 

Besides the groaning undead and hellfire sounds of bullets and grenades, they were quiet, both lost in the world. 

Until they weren't. 

Between rounds, when no shots were echoing through the room, Aeon could hear it. 

Mountain’s little coughs, muffled groans and heavy breaths. 

“You ok Mount?” He asked before the next hoard of zombies came around, only giving a passing glance out of his peripheral. He should’ve known then, when Mountain took awhile to offer a noncommittal grunt. Yeah, —m good.

It only got worse from there. The earth ghoul seemed more and more restless with each round. He kept rearranging himself, tugging on his pants, stretching his legs. 

The new ghoul had had enough. He quit the game, quickly before Mountain could realize, set his controller on the table and turned to face him. 

“Come on,” he whined, drawing out the words like a child. “Tell me.”

Mountain sighed heavily as he set his controller down and rested his arms on his knees, hunching himself over the tent in his pants that’s been quickly growing ever since they started. 

He keeps his eyes trained to the floor, knowing that fully taking the little ghoul in would have him aching for friction. With a wave of his hand, he finally breaks the silence, “—m hard.”

He can feel Aeon’s questioning gaze on him, like it’s burning a hole through his body. The words are too slurred, mumbled dismissively. He knows Aeon didnt hear him, so much to his dismay, he repeats himself. 

“Im hard,” he says, clearly this time, finally finding the strength to look at Aeon— what a mistake. He takes in the sly tilt of his head, swallows up the look on his face. He can see the gears turning behind the soft lilac eyes that still feel like they’re staring daggers. 

“Hard?”

“Hard.” Mountain mouths through gritted teeth, growing harder as the seconds go by. He’s sure he’d find a sticky mess right over his tip if he looked down. 

“An erection. Stiffy. A hard on, if you will.”

The words float in the air, heard, but not understood. Once Mountain realizes, shame washes over him. Mountain shouldn't be enjoying this the way he is. 

“What does it mean?” The innocence all but knocks the air out of his lungs, and so does the notion of explaining an erection. Where does he start? What words can describe it?

Oh yeah. It just happens because all I can think about is the way my fingers could touch if I grabbed you by the waist. My dick starts to ache when a sliver of your skin shows as you reach for something on the table. No biggie really. 

“It uhhhhh… happens when I'm attracted to someone.” Worst fucking choice of words ever. Literally anything else would’ve been better. But he’s thinking with his other head now, there’s no room for anything more coherent— what’s said is said. 

“Attracted?” Satan below this ghoul was going to kill him. He’s gotta be playing dumb, right?

“Yeah, attracted,” He tries to breathe, tries to put his urges to the side. “Means I like them.”

Aeon moves closer to Mountain, till his knees are pressed to his outer thigh. He sits back on his haunches and rests his hands palm side down on his legs. His excitement is palpable, Mountain can almost taste it. 

“Does that mean you like me?” His voice pitches up, animated and fun. Mountain can only nod. He should use his words, lie and tell him no, but he cant figure out why his tongue wont move. Regardless, the answer had Aeon sporting a wide grin, he’s got pride written across his features. Mountain likes me! His inner voice cheers. 

“Then I can help you, right?”

Oh the doe eyed innocence. Too kind for his own good. He shouldnt ruin him. Not like this. But he’s too sweet. Mountain has no choice, he cant help it. 

“Yeah, want me to show you how?” Aeon nods enthusiastically and Mountain finally relaxes and leans back onto the couch, spreading his legs just so. His problem is obvious now, pressed up tight against the seam of his boxers, pre leaking through and darkening the light wash of his jeans. Aching to have Aeon’s pretty hands wrapped around him. 

“I need help pulling it out bug,” he feigns incompetence as he stretches his arms over the arm and back of the couch. 

“Undo my pants for me,” he says gently. Aeon reaches over and gets to work, moving deft fingers over stiff denim. Its weird undoing pants from this angle, and Mountain is loving the struggle. 

“Pull my boxers down,” Obedient as the day he was summoned, Aeon follows. He hooks a finger under the waistband and slowly pulls down and out of the way, just enough for Mountain’s dick to spring out and curve against his stomach. The pre that smears onto his shirt is a problem for later. 

Mountain finally gives himself relief, wraps his hand around the base and holds gently. It's just enough to take the edge off. He looks at Aeon who’s fixed on the way his hand holds his cock. 

“Give me your hand little one,” he takes Aeon hand in his free hand and laces their fingers together, his hand almost covering Aeon’s entirely with the way its spread across the back. 

“Ready?” He asks, as if Aeon is the one that needs to be ready. Mountain thinks he might cum the second he brings their hands down. 

He was dangerously close to his prediction, the little warmth from his hand against his aching cock was better than he could have imagined. It had his stomach in knots faster than he’d like to admit. 

Stilling himself, he drags their hands along slowly, wanting to savor each touch, twisting over the ruddy tip that’s been leaking pre. 

“It’s sticky,” Aeon remarks the first time his fingers glide over Mountain’s slit. It’s cute really, the way he remarks so simply.  

“Yeah bug, it’s cause you’re making it feel really good.” A pit of guilt brews in Mountain’s gut, he shouldn't be doing this, not when the ghoul is so fresh, but it’s not his fault Aeon always eyes him up. It’s certainly not his fault the little ghoul has him chubbing up in his pants whenever he’s around. 

“I can do it on my own I think.” Aeon looks at Mountain with a slight smile, and Mountain answers by just taking his hands away. Wordless, easy, just like their regular Tuesday afternoons. 

He watches in awe as another slight hand wraps itself around him and strokes just as slow as before. Any other day he’d be upset with the teasing, but today? He’ll let the young ghoul do as he pleases, he is just learning after all.

Unknowing as he is, he’s doing well, very well. He knows how tight to squeeze, knows that Mountain loves to have mean fingers press into the spot right under the head, as if by magic. Maybe it is, he thinks, but Mountain sets that thought aside for later. 

He’s never fought this hard to not cum. He doesnt want it to be over, no matter how much he aches and throbs. The only things he lets free are the sweet sounds that are being drawn out of him. Aeon responds with hums, and before long, he’s purring, rumbling in his chest. 

“Do you like touching it, little one?” He studies the focused look on Aeon’s face. 

“I think so… I can feel it moving.” Moving, Mountain laughs, knowing his cock has been twitching in Aeon’s soft grip for what feels like hours. Each time he looks down, he feels himself throb with the way his hand barely covers half of his length. 

“It feels very good bug. You’re doing so well, being so helpful.” He chokes on the last syllable as Aeon thumbs at the slit, letting a string of pre stretch as he pulls away. There’s more now, slick dripping down onto his pants. He could practically hear everyone’s teasing if any of them came waltzing into the common room. 

Almost wetter than a water ghoul Mounty, all ‘cause the new ghoul has his hands on you.

Dirty Mountain, ruining our new summon like this. What would Papa think?”

Letting Aeon get you like this for all of us to see? Doesnt take much to undo you sprout. 

The thoughts get him too close to the edge, the fire growing in his gut burning too hot. He’s not going to last much longer at this rate. His eyes drift shut as he tries to pull himself back from plummeting to his finish. 

“Mount, why is it bigger?” 

Oh whatever peace he found is quickly washed away. Mountain peels his head off of the couch to look at Aeon, before letting his eyes drift down. 

“This…” Aeon’s voice trails off as he cups the base of Mountain’s cock where his knot is starting to form. “Bigger”

Fuck. It's not something he thought he’d ever have to say out loud. He’s not even at his fullest yet, and it's already filling Aeon’s hands. He tries to not think about how good it’ll feel when he squeezes it, but he can’t help but thrust up into the pressure that threatens to push him over the edge.

“Its my knot. Helps me stay inside, helps me stay close when I like someone.” The words arent perfect ,not by a longshot, they barely scratch the surface of what it is, but it seems good enough for Aeon who just hums as he keeps working his hands over Mountain's cock. 

“Would you like to knot me?” That’s it. 

“Someday little one,” he doesnt mean for it, but it comes out ragged, louder and harsher than before. He swears he sees worry, maybe even fear splash across Aeon’s face. He wears it so well. 

To hell with drawing this out, he thinks, he needs to finish. Desperately wanting to paint his spend on the fingers that hold him so tenderly, he finds the words to get Aeon just how he needs him.

“Help me with this first hmm?” Aeon nods as Mountain reaches for him and gets him to straddle his legs. He wraps his hands Aeon’s and fucks into their grip, twitching as Aeon squeezes on the down strokes. 

“Keep going just like that,”

“Watch it, watch how good you’re doing” He’s rambling and he doesnt care. He needs it now, worse than ever. He brings a hand up and cradles Aeon’s face, dragging his slick covered thumb across flush skin. He looks at him like he hung the stars. Mindlessly, he leans forward for a kiss, its soft and slow. He can tell Aeon doesnt know what to do, but it just makes it that much more enticing. 

“Put your hands around my knot little one, hold it nice and tight for me. Can you do that?” 

“I’ll try,” he mumbles against Mountain’s lips. His hands find their way around the growing base of Mountain’s dick and squeezes, just like he said. He watches as a hand keeps stroking, making wet noises as another pays special attention to the head, and before long, white ropes of Mountain’s cum coats their fingers and drips down his length

Mountain cums with a sharp breath. He’s sure he blacked out with the way his ears are ringing. As if by magic again, he can feel Aeon tightening and loosening his grip, milking him dry, making sure to get everything he has to give. 

“Good boy, Aeon” he says as he throws his head back, breathless and floaty, leaving the curve of his neck open to the ghoul in his lap. Curious, Aeon drags his tongue up the damp skin and groans at the taste of Mountain. If Mountain wasn't already sitting, the feeling would've had him dropping to the floor. 

“Can I taste it?” Aeon asks as he holds his messy fingers up between them, wet with pre and striped with cum. 

Mountain goes stupid and gives a quick grunt. Yes please, he practically screams the words in his head. He feels his dick pitifully try and fill out again as Aeon mouths at his fingers, sucking the cum off and taking in the heady taste of Mountain. 

Mountain watches as Aeon swallows him down.

“Salty”

#the band ghost #mountain #aeon #phantom #earth ghoul #nameless ghouls #quintessence ghoul #vee answers #vee writes #mountain x phantom #mountain x aeon #mountain ghoul

[kuyurasu]

Spider Lily

Dottore x Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Summary ; Soulmates are tied with their lifespan. After being sold to a man as a slave in sumeru, you forgot about the boy you had saved as a child. He didn't.

WC ; an obsene amount

Reading time ; depends.

Warnings ; a fuck ton. Porn with plot, p in v, mentions of rape and sodomy BUT NOT APPLIED or discussed in further chaps, trauma, severe abuse, slavery, suicidal thoughts, realistic healing, dark side of teyvat basically, heavy sexual content in the future, oral (m+w), praise, degradation, spanking, dom/sub, rough, soft, sweet, mean idc just being rabbits., so many more... don't be nervous, I'm just a little pinch of mentally insane.

... Haunting Adeline, anyone?

Authors note : Enjoy and sorry for being MIA, life fucking me hard-core in the ass. Also, I don't care who reads this. I'm not your fucking mom. I ain't gonna tell you what to read.

Perhaps it was a cruel fate that brought you to where you are now. Something messed up the fairytale, princess wonderland story you were supposed to be in. and somehow, you were here.

If you could curse the gods above, Celestia, and everything, you would. But physically, your tongue was tied. Incapable of muttering but a few words. It was a cruel world to be living in, and while others were blessed, you were in the dirt. Beneath all of them. A slave, they called you. Your own father sold you just so your mother couldn't save you, run away, or live without having a slave tattoo etched on your wrist.

Your father was a cruel man. Heartless, even. He didn't see anything wrong with abuse, it seemed, or treating his daughter or wife like cattle. He cut off the tip of your tongue when you screamed and fought with him as he sold your older brother, ultimately resulting in his death. He broke your bones and scarred your flesh beyond recognition. And then sold you away.

It was when you were 4 years old, though, that you first met the emotion of happiness. It was soft and warm. It started in the center of your chest and slowly spread out to your entire brain. It was definitely infected, yet so beautiful.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly, your eyes softening at the little boy in front of you. He was dirty and breathing heavily, yet he was wearing nice Sumeru clothing. It made your heart ache that he was clearly better than you, and yet, your slightly shorter tongue couldn't stop itself from speaking to him. Your voice was shaky and raspy from years of silence.

The little boy did not seem to mind; he actually had a fascinated look in his eyes at the sight of her semi-cut tongue.

The boy looked around frantically, though, at the sound of yells and searches among the villagers. They were looking for him.

"Please, help me." He asked for you. His bright red eyes were the only thing you could make out from the night sky, the mud covering his body, and his trembling form. Regardless, something struck a chord in your heart to help him. Perhaps it was something that you knew would be direct disobedience to your father, but helping anyone and getting back at him was all that pushed you to help the little boy.

You ran into the house, not even bothering to hide your footsteps until you made it to the small cabinet that hid the medical kit. The forest rangers provided every household in the rainforest with them, and who knew you would be using them on someone other than yourself and your mother?

You ran from the house, soft little breaths escaping your lips as you made it back to the boy with little time passing. You were secretly surprised your father did not hear you, so he must be out somewhere.

"H-Here." You crouched next to him, holding out the medkit to him. The red-eyed boy deftly began to pull everything out and use the supplies with unexpected accuracy for a little child.

You looked up nervously, watching the group of villagers go in hoards as they looked for someone—the little boy, not that you knew that. Not that he told you. He wrapped his injured foot and hand before catching sight of the slavery tattoo branded on your wrist. "What's that?" He asked quietly, his small, pale hand grasping your wrist before you could hide it.

You were stunned into silence for a moment, speechless as to what to say in response. You swallowed before answering, "My father wishes to sell me to Hadanish."

"The slave owner near the desert?"

You gave a small, reluctant nod in response to his inquiry, knowing it was something to be ashamed of, even terrified of. The muddy boy grabbed your shoulders, pulling you close.

"Come with me." He pleaded with you. How could he let the little girl who saved him go into slavery? It would kill him alive. No one has ever shown him kindness before you. He couldn't let his savior just die. He knew what happened to slaves, especially women. He was disgusted at the mere concept of you being in the clutches of Hadanish, a man known for his rape, sodomy, and abuse. You already looked to have experienced hell; he couldn't bear thinking of you experiencing more of it.

"N-No, I mustn't... I have to stay with my mother. sh-she needs me."

He grasped the little girl's cheeks, making them muddy as well, while the yells and hollers of the villagers looking for someone persisted. He shook his head, seeing the tears in the little girl's eyes. It was sad that you already seemed so grown up. "You saved me. I will never forget this. I will save you, I swear." He whispered to you, his heart breaking as he knew he had to leave. He had to go now.

You stammered slightly, your heart pounding in your chest, as you began to watch the little boy stand, taking the medkit with him. "W-Wait!" She called out for him, and luckily, he did pause. "What's your name?" She asked him softly, receiving a faint smile from him.

"Zandik, and yours?"

You whispered your name, only for him to nod and run off into the night.

It has been over 500 years since you were alive. It was weird considering you thought that you'd have been passing away like any normal person... But when you got to 40 years old and you still hadn't aged past 23, you knew something was wrong.

So did Hadanish, but he took advantage of it. He knew that as a slave who had no signs of age or death, you were like the perfect worker. It wasn't until your bones ached and threatened to break after hours of labor that he let you rest, only to get about 5 hours of sleep, and that's being very generous. He sent you to nation after nation in chains as a walking slave to serve from master to master; you wouldn't be surprised if everyone forgot about you—just something like a package for them.

Slowly, over the span of 200 years, you began to believe them. Tormented by what you saw through the ages, by the age of 396, you were so deep and lost in your own mind that it was like all you could think about was doing your labor. Until your bones break, until you throw up and can't think about your own name, until you forget to be.

It was at age 512, 5 years ago, that some person helped you. Practically saved you, as you were near death one particular night.

That morning, you woke up to a strange, nagging feeling. Something is screaming in your brain to get out of there. It was weird. After all the years you had spent completely alone in your head while your body got abused left and right, it was odd to hear a sense of self-preservation still remaining.

It was before 4 a.m. on a Wednesday when you got that dreadful feeling. It was something that you had never truly experienced before. Something in your gut told you that if you did not leave in less than 10 minutes, you'd never wake up again.

Carefully and strategically, you stood; being used to the chains that clamped down on your ankles, you shuffled silently to your current master. Asleep, unaware of whatever danger was lurking near the camp. It set your teeth on edge, the approaching lethalness, but the best you could do right now was get the hell out of there.

Your heart pounded and ached in your chest. It had been so long since you felt like hope was even possible in your situation. Maybe it was when you turned 124 that you stopped believing? You forgot. It didn't matter now. To hell with all the past grievances, you were getting out. Today.

With a shakiness you hadn't experienced in awhile, you reached for your master's pocket. The dogs around you, also chained to the metal post, did not stir. Neither did any of the other people as you slipped your hand around your key—a delicate yellow shade. It caused your breath to stutter as you weakly walked behind one of the tents, carefully unlocking your chains, as the idea of them waking up to their prized forever slave to be escaping...

Yet they were trusting. In over a decade of events and masters, you had never once tried to escape. Before today. It was because, at the ripe age of 4, you were already out working for your father—minor tasks, but still. Then you joined your brother; it was ingrained in your very soul to be a slave. To be a worker. They trusted that their product wasn't even aware she could escape. but they underestimated the power of instincts and wanting to remain alive, even for you.

The key twisted, and the lock came undone a second more. It was like time froze for a long, agonizing second, waiting and listening to anyone waking up to the betrayal—no, the resistance of a slave.

When nothing happened, you took off in a sprint. It felt so weird to fully extend your weak, shaky legs, but you told yourself that it was the most freeing, beautiful feeling. The nation of Natlan was beautiful yet savage; the land was not suited for the unfit, yet luckily for you, being a slave that worked until the skin was completely off your feet and bleeding, you were quite capable of this. It was like the pain of you running for hours on end didn't even phase you; the wheeze of your breaths did not stop you, nor did the trembling of your legs to take a breath prevent you from running all the way until you physically collapsed on the sands of Fonatine, laughing like a fool.

It had been far, far too long since you smiled and laughed until you were gasping for air while your legs trembled. Sore and probably having broken bones from your relentless running, while your head was spinning with exhaustion and dehydration. You were on a delirium high, dying as you lay on the beach.

After so long, you had basically killed yourself by escaping. It didn't make you sad; in fact, you laughed even more. Until you were puking up the water and bread from yesterday's lunch. It was hilarious!

You did all this just to die! It was so...

So… beautiful! It was like nothing you had ever experienced before. A crazed expression on your face as suddenly you could not laugh anymore. Your chest was just falling and rising rapidly while your heart rate shot up to levels you'd never felt before. looking up into the sky with wide, shaky eyes.

For some reason, the little boy you helped when you were just a small child flashed before your eyes. Oh yeah. Did he live a good life? You wondered, Did he suffer but escape earlier than you? Should you have accepted his offer to escape?

Maybe you did have a regret in your miserable life. The one choice you could've made could've changed your very life. What would it have looked like? Would your brother have lived?

"H-Hold me." You whispered out, unable to even lift a finger as you stared up in the sky, unable to breathe any longer as, for some reason, it was like life had swept under your feet...

The water dripped slowly. Just dripping in her open mouth to slowly hydrate her body so as not to put her in shock. Foolish girl, she already looked like she had put her heart through a shock. It was lucky she was even barely alive. Although he couldn't necessarily blame her, not after seeing the several slave tattoos all over her body when cleaning her up.

Perhaps it's for the best that she did such a thing, so she knows what life feels like. Overwhelming would be an understatement. He would probably tell her to look after that insanity she felt for that short amount of time; perhaps she could find life where she found death.

Maybe.

He would have to report to the doctor that he would not be coming back until tomorrow, which did worry him slightly. but if he told the harbinger that he had found another rare experiment item, he would let it pass.

"Foolish girl. The world has done you cruelty, yet I have to use this tactic. Sigh." The man gently placed a damp cloth atop her forehead, cooling down the fever ravaging her insides. She would take a while to heal, but that was why he was here. As a Fatui operative, he had never truly saved a life. It felt nice.

Perhaps she would be suited for a life in Snezhnaya; who knows? All he knew in this moment was that she was dying.

"Your soulmate is probably waiting for you somewhere. C'mon, foolish girl, wake up for them."

#dottore #genshin impact #genshin dottore #zandik #dottore x reader #x reader #smut with plot #smut with feelings #fluff #requests open

[whalesforhands]

HAII NYV!! hope ur doing well!!

tbh,, i’ve been thinking. How do you think SSS trio would feel about Dyf!mc going the same path suguru did? (Yk, seeing riko die and going spiraling to the point that she leaves jjt n stuffs,,) Do you think they would try and beg her to stay? Or would they let her go willingly because they’ve always wanted the best for Mc? Also, when they see each other after 11 years, Who sees her first?

tbh ive js been having brain rot of dyf so like…a million AUs are coming to me about it at once LMFAOO. but hope ure doing well, love ur writing xx

tw: yandere

lol why does ur spelling of name perfectly describe how it’s meant to be pronounced

what makes you think you’re even allowed to leave them behind like that? what makes you think you’re even able to leave them so freely?

you won’t survive out there on your own, are you just trying to die quicker? are you just trying to make them suffer just as much as you?

you’re in pain. they know, they know. you’ll get food placed outside your room’s locked door, have all 3 of them talk to you from outside too. sometimes it’s all 3 of them hanging around, sometimes it’s just 2, sometimes it’s just 1.

it’s gojo satoru that has had enough of your slump, kicking your door down with little to no effort as you flinch from shock, hiding under your blankets when you feel the dip of your mattress, and a head landing atop of your cocooned self, letting out a disappointed sigh.

“I didn’t wanna do that, ya know? You’re making things hard.”

it’s only then that he would lay down next to your form, an arm over your waist and spooning you from behind as you start to break down even harder, taking his intrusion and hoarding the comfort he gave you in this moment.

and your door’s been broken so many times you decided to just leave it unlocked… letting him and the others come and go as they please, letting him wrap his long arms around you at every given chance, letting him kiss you on the forehead every morning he gets to spend in school, telling you that he’ll be back from a mission soon.

maybe that was how it started.

“There are no missions for you, (last name).” Yaga’s scratching his head as he flips through his clipboard, carefully scanning the words.

“W-what? Why?” Your arms are shaky as you hug a Baby Panda close to yourself, soft purrs emanating from him as you pet him mindlessly. You’ve been loitering around in the campus for… Close to 3 months now.

“I’m quite confused as well. There haven’t been any curses within your grade level as of recently—“ He pauses as he flips through more papers, eyes narrowing behind dark sunglasses. “There just isn’t—“

“Then m-may I take one above my grade? T-that would put me on grounds for promotion, right?”

“You can, but there aren’t any sorcerers available to invigilate and recommend you for promotion anytime soon. Earliest I could find one is—“ The incessant flipping of papers stop.

“In about 6 months.”

ieiri shoko lets you roam around the school campus, watching you, talking to you, trying to improve your mental health. she prods you to speak your mind, convinces you that the world outside was the one that was going insane, that it wasn’t you that felt trapped, felt cornered in here.

“The campus is where you can be safe from such things. Don’t sweat it.”

and you believe her. why wouldn’t you? she’s your beloved shoko. shoko who teaches you how to do first aid when she notices how lost and listless you’re becoming, who teaches you how to treat wounds, how to stitch up open cuts, how to stop internal bleeding… all just to take up your time. she’s patient with you, holding your hands, letting you take tea breaks with her… it’s peaceful with her. you’re at ease.

so much better than being out on field, right?

geto suguru takes his time with you. he reads your favourite manga with you, asks you about the novels you have been eyeing and wanting to buy, talks about the soba noodles he had on that one trip to nagoya... hell, he’s the one who cooks food for you and helps you clean your room when he thinks you’re getting sloppy.

“Let me do it for you, okay? You’re not looking well enough to do it on your own.”

maybe that was when you thought to yourself that, maybe, just maybe… you didn’t want to leave this place.

though, if you still have some fight in you…

out of all three of them, the one who would most probably fold to your whims and let you leave is suguru. maybe when you go limp in his arms, break down crying into his chest, go quiet when he attempts to feed you…

or maybe it was that decisive kiss under the blankets of darkness, a show of your desperation and longing for something more than this that he starts to crack, starts to break. it’s then that he finally thinks that, maybe, perhaps, he needs to let you go. he’s always been quite the emotional one.

11 years of free roam? more like 11 years of surveillance. it’s not like you were allowed to go with no strings attached, you were still standing on soil that wasn’t Jujutsu Tech ground because they’re the ones who have given you this right.

they’re the ones who let you go have fun, even letting you get a job as a regular salary worker, let you get a quaint little apartment nearby, let you live the life of a regular person.

but no, oh no. you wanted to play hero again when you saw a little girl getting chased, hunted by a curse? wanted to save a life again because that’s what you could do? wanted to do?

And you got hurt from your decisions?

let’s just say you’re in for a bad time.

#dyf au #satosugu x reader #ieiri shoko x reader

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Jan 19th

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1. Hello, I have lost a fic! It was an arranged-marriage au where WWX marries into the Lan sect. During the wedding all the Lans refuse to look towards WWX which hurts him deeply. Later on LWJ explains it is Lan tradition for no one to look upon the bride until the husband has removed her veil. This was just one of many cultural differences between the Lan and Jiang that the fic explored. Overall I think the fic was kind of somber and angsty? Probably had a happy ending though. Any ideas?

FOUND? Concord by Deastar (T, 41k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Depression, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? In Love and War by Cataclysmic_Calamity (E, 68k, wangxian, A/B/O, Canon Divergence, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Arranged Marriage, Kind of a slow burn, enemies to lovers ish, rampant sexual tension, WWX is a Menace to society and LWJ is doing his best, Miscommunication, past emotional abuse, Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent, Semi-Public Sex, Anal Fingering, Dom/sub, Anal Sex)

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2. Hello, I need help finding a fic. I'm pretty sure I found this fic through your blog.

It's from Lan Wangji's perspective and takes place during the early sunshot campaign before Wei Wuxian's return. Wen outposts are attacked by some unknown entity and Lan Wangji goes to investigate. The culprit is a human shaped being covered in resentful energy. After a few confrontations Lan Wangji discovers that the being is an unconscious Wei Wuxian and finds a way to free him from the resentful energy. @bluekittenfire

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3. (First part added to an itmf) I cannot remember what it is called but there was one fic where WWX loses his foot/leg and the Wen build him a wooden prosthetic that I really enjoyed and am looking for more fics like this. Where characters are dealt a difficult hand but they work through it and yeah, any recs would be much appreciated thank you!

FOUND? we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)

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4. Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but maybe you can help me? I’m looking for a fic where Wei Wuxian is fighting at what I remember to be Qiongqi Path. I think Jiang Cheng makes a smart remark (something like “Are you just gonna play your flute or you going to help us?!”) and Wei Wuxian stops playing his dizi long enough to give JC the finger… only for them to realise what it means that he’s stopped playing and a flute can still be heard. Not long after LWJ pulls Su She out of the foliage with the other flute.

Vaguely I remember it being a fix it fic where less people die than in canon.

If you can help with this I would appreciate it since it’s haunted me for days now! And even if not I hope you have a pleasant day. ^^ @jestingknights

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5. hi!! i’m been looking for a fic for days. i read it forever ago but it’s during the cloud recess study arc and in it lan xichen realizes how awful the jiangs are treating wwx and tries to subtly convince him to leave tywng and stay in gusu bc he knows how much lwj likes him and he sees how talented wwx is and knows he would be a good asset for any sect to have. a specific scene i remember is that lxc would pretend to accidentally bump into wwx to talk to him. and they would go on walks and lwj saw it and got jealous. i think lxc was lowkey manipulative but in a way where he was doing it to make wwx care enough about himself to leave the jiangs. it was not jiang clan friendly at all. i kno this is so vague sorry about that. but it’s driving me crazy how i can’t find it when i know ive read it more then once. thanks for any help u can give

FOUND? If 5 isn't 🔒💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting), it's very similar so here's hoping!

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6. Hello! I’m looking for a modern AU where WWX lives in and runs a theater, I believe LWJ is hosting his orchestra there for practice and for an event??? And it’s important that it’s successful to keep the theater open. I believe at some point, someone throws a rock or a brick through the front doors, and I believe the jiangs show up in the end and WWX confronts that. Im having such a hard time finding it or remembering more about it, and I’ve been looking for it for so long 🥲 @takemitchyleaps

FOUND? Talisman by Witch_Nova221 (M, 192k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Theatre, Rock Band, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Stalking, Minor Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

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7. Hi! I hope doing this right, can tou help me find a fic ? I remember that the sects start making alliances because they notice how the Wens are acting. The Jiangs and the Lans are going to ally through marriage, the choice is up to LXC, but because he is jealous of LZ, thinking he never had it difficult, when WY is offered to the Lans, LXC decides to marry him to make LZ suffer, knowing LZ and WY like each other. LXC is the one whose core is melted and LSZ is LXC and WY's biological son. @old-rose-peonies

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8. There's a fic I vaguely remember reading, and I don't know what it's called. There's a scene where Lan Zhan is trying to help Wei Ying eat again (residual starvation stuff), and there's an NSFW scene with honey where Lan Zhan is trying to help Wei Ying associate eating with Good Things. That's the extent of my memory. If you could please help me find it, I'd greatly appreciate it! Thank you! @amynchan

Oh oh! I know exactly which fic this is because it was written based on a post of mine! It's actually WWX helping LWJ and was written by the wonderful InTheGreySpaces (thank you again for writing this beautiful fic~) 😊 Though I could be wrong so please let me know if this isn't it 😅 - Mod C

FOUND! 🧡 Sustenance of the Soul OR Five Times Lan Wangji Refused to Eat and One Time Wei Wuxian Convinced Him To by InTheGreySpaces (E, 9k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Pining, Eating Disorders, LWJ Has an Eating Disorder, and WWX is going to help him get past it, Inedia, Inedia used in the wrong way, LWJ's 33 Lashes Punishment, referenced as the cause of his eating problems, Submissive LWJ, Sort of?)

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9. Hello! I'm looking for a specific fic that I'm afraid might've been deleted. It's a modern au set in the 90s in California (possibly). The Spotify playlist "LWJ DJs your life 1999" goes with it. What I remember is that LWJ is both a goth club DJ and a cello player, WWX drives a terrible car, and the gang is looking to buy the perfect huge house to collectively live in. It might've been part of a series, there's a Halloween party bit where LWJ dresses up at a classic style gothic vampire and curates an extensive party playlist. Thanks for the help! @aceaviatrix

FOUND? The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, 1990s, Goth LWJ, Cellist LWJ, College Student WWX, House Hunting, Dating, Clubbing, San Francisco, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Academic Disaster Aftermath, Getting Together, Repressed Teen Crushes to Strangers to Lovers, Homelessness, in the form of couch surfing, background NieLan)

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10. For the next fic finder: I'm looking for a longer fic where the wens find shelter at the nie sect. It was part of a way bigger plot and some wangxian shenanigans, but wen qing and nie mingjue end up sleeping together, mainly because wen qing is cold and is like "might as well". I do remember that nie mingjue was trans, also. Anyone have any idea what fic that was?

FOUND? 💖 Uninvited by WithBroomBefore (M, 13k, wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, sect leader jyl, sick fic, happy ending) specifically chapter 3

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11. Hi! I need help in looking for a fic where Nie Huaisang was the one who sacrificed his body and soul to summon Wei Wuxian back to life. Thank you @etutb

FOUND? Crowded by nirejseki (G, 1k, NHS & WWX, WangXian, WangXianSang, Canon Divergence, Different Body Offering Ritual, Atypical Relationship Dynamics, sentient sabers) this is a nhs sacrifice summon (gone sideways) fic

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12. Hello. I am looking for a fic where there was a finger trap? You know, the “thing that traps the victim's fingers (often the index fingers) in both ends of a small cylinder”? Anyway i cant remember if it was a tweetfic or a fic on ao3 but wangxian had their fingers in this 🥲🙏

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13. Hi, I don't normally lose fics but I lost this one: Post-Canon, Jiang Cheng basically goes round all the clans and tells them what was wrong with their defences during Sunshot and what they could do better. He also has some unkind words to say about Lotus Pier's organisation. It sounds like he's making enemies but he's really not. Any ideas, please? @solo----

FOUND? 🔒 The Cold Wind of Harsh Truth (or How We Nearly Lost the Sunshot Campaign): A Treatise by Icarus (T, 13k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Humor, Angst, JC digs and keeps digging, Zidian lore, Fun with talismans, JC-centric, Competence Kink, Strategy & Tactics, Cultivation Sect Politics, Arranged Marriage, Trauma, Logic, POV JC)

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14. Hi, I am looking for a fic set post-canon (I think). I remember Wei Wuxian maybe living in the jingshi, possibly teaching classes, but definitely going into Caiyi with Lan Wangji and during a festival Wangji wins a game and the prize is this ugly turtle statue that Wei Wuxian adores. They go on to prank Lan Qiren with the turtle statue. I loved this scene but I can’t remember what fic it came from, please help!

FOUND! I think 14for the fic finder is from the actual book. It sounds like the last extra chapter. / Not saying there isn't a fic involving it, but #14 sounds a lot like the Yunmeng extra in book five, as well. Ring toss, ugly turtle statue, and Wei Wuxian considering pranking Lan Qiren included. The only difference is the location. Your searcher may have mistaken it for fic, especially if they read translations online. / #14 is one of the extra chapters from the actual novel (Extra 7 in the official English translation)

I found a few similar fics with a turtle statue if you want to check them out ^^ - Mod C

The Turtle in the Lanshi by Brierilee (G, 1k, WangXian, Post Canon, POV LJY)

Jin Ling and the No Good Very Bad Terrible Year of Cloud Recesses Bullshit by cringewerewolf (T, 2k, WangXian, Juniors)

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15. hi!! looking for this funny fic based on a silly story. Lwj rejects wwx on a dating app accidently right in front of him, i think they're on an airport? they end up talking obvs and it's cute and funny @ilyweiwuxian

FOUND? Ticket to Ride by mistresscurvy (E, 18k, wangxian, Modern, Online Dating, Road Trips, Service Top, Phone Sex, Dick Pics, Wedding Banquet)

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16. Hey was hoping you guys may be able to help, I've been look for a fic I read awhile back idk if it got deleted or something but. It is a modern time wangxian fic with tattoo artist wei ying, his parents are alive too. But he ends up renting a boyfriend/ Lan wangji off a boyfriend renting site. They have misunderstandings but get through it, he even gives lan Zhan a lotus tattoo like his own and they get together officially in the end. @yilingpatriarchsimp

FOUND! Rent a Gege by wayward_wing (E, 12k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Smut, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Bottom LWJ, Top WWX, Getting Together, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Mention of wangxian with others, WWX’s parents are alive, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Riding, Skinny Dipping, eating ass, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex)

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17. I have lost a fic where Wei Wuxian is a catfish for sale and he helps jilted lovers get back at their exes. Su She hires him to target Lan Wangji but Wei Wuxian falls for him instead. Please help me find this fic!

FOUND! I'm pretty sure this one is we'll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixo (T, 38k, wangxian, modern, College AU, Catfish AU, Eventual Happy Ending, Crossdressing WWX, Rich heir LWJ gets catfished by pretty Weiying online that's it that's the fic, LWJ learns how to text with kaomojis, Gossipy aunties NHS and WWX: canon, sometimes LWJ gives you secondhand embarrassment, this fic is on crack, Pining LWJ, Fluff, Humor, lwj is a grade A+ SIMP, Identity Porn)

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18. lan xichen is driving after drinking at night and hits Jiang yanli and she dies. Plot twist ended up she committed suicide, but they didn’t know that before. The lans and jiangs had a fight and somehow lan wangji ended up getting married to Wei wuxian. Wwx is significantly older then lan zhan in this fic.

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19. Hello! I was wondering if I could get help looking for a fic. It’s a doctor AU where LZ and WY are both surgeons. It starts with WY being late to a presentation and showing up right in the middle of LZ’s presentation time. Then WY eventually ends up working on a research project or something like that with LZ? Wen Ning gets hurt at some point in it too and WY and LZ save him against LQR’s orders. I’ve been looking for this for forever and can’t seem to find it. Thank you so much!

FOUND? Anginal Equivalents by fakeplasticlily (E, 23k, wangxian, Modern, Medical Residents AU, Childhood Friends, Mutual Pining, Oblivious WWX, WangXian.mp3, Sexual Content, Podfic Available)

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20. Hi Peeps! Thank you so much for your dedication to this page, I'm a big fan! I'm looking for a specific fic: there's a cultural show being put on by the whole gang and Wei Ying is specifically doing a dance for it but he needs to have body paint and LZ graciously volunteers for it. He ends up writing characters out of an ancient poem that Huaisang tells him is LZ basically marking him for his own. It's not idiots in love, though that one was great as well. Thank you in advance! @nebuluscharlie

FOUND? Out of the Bin and Into Your Heart by Alaceron (T, 27k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fake/Pretend relationship, Oblivious WWX)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

[3terna15unshin3]

a blurb of them at a halloween party would heal me!! (smut but also super cutie cus they’re my babies)

Kneel

—

a/n: hey bff thank u for the request and happy halloween :-)

Read the main fic here if u want more Matty and Este!

—

cw: 18+, minors DNI, alcohol consumption, kinky religious undertones that will hit hard if you’ve seen Fleabag season 2, oral (m receiving), dom!matty vibes ish, praise, cumplay maybe??, also a bit wordy at the start lol

Matty zipped up the back of her jumpsuit for her, since Este couldn’t reach it herself. She was in the midst of covering her nose and mouth with fake blood.

“Easy with that stuff, hey? You’re going to make it impossible for me to kiss you,” he complained, making eye contact with her through the mirror in front of them.

She laughed, running her hands under the tap to wash the excess red off her hands, and then turned around. Her arms raised to adjust the Roman collar surrounding his neck. “A bit of blood has never stopped you in the past.”

His jaw dropped. “We’ll have to put some time aside for confession tonight, with that dirty mind of yours.” He said with a chuckle, playing up the priest costume suited over his body and shaking his head at her suggestive joke.

“I’ll hold you to that offer, actually.” Este giggled.

Before heading out the door, she stole a cigarette from the box in Matty’s pocket to hold between her fingers as a prop—her other hand cradling a small stuffed guinea pig. Fleabag was their favourite show, after all.

When they arrived at Charli’s, music was pulsating through the floorboards and hoards of people filled the space. She was great at throwing a party, so that’s what was expected.

Matty had handfuls of friends to greet but he did it all with his hand still linked with hers or around her waist. By now, they were mostly familiar faces, so it didn’t phase her. Many complimented their costumes; and those who didn’t recognise it, got an earful from Este about how the show it was in reference to was an absolute must-watch. Matty, who was slightly less passionate about spreading the Fleabag agenda, just sat back and watched in adoration. He loved seeing her addiction to sharing things she loves with others.

He also shamelessly basked in the feeling of being called ‘hot priest’ by everyone. If anyone called him just the ‘priest’, he’d correct them, and Este would roll her eyes.

By the time they’d gone round to see everyone, Ross (dressed as Indiana Jones) had shoved drinks into their hands, and had even come back a second time with more rounds. They were buzzed before settling into a spot in the corner of the lounge where the rest of the guys and their partners had gotten comfortable.

After him and Este pulled each of them in for an embrace, Matty took the last free seat and grabbed her by the waist to sit down on his lap.

“Welcome, welcome,” Charli loudly greeted over the music, while hanging onto George’s shoulder, “You guys have gotten some drinks right? You’re good? I’ve got some off limits special stuff I’m willing to share if you want anything more,”

Este thanked her for the offer but shook her head. “Ross had us very taken care of the minute we walked in, so I think we’re all good,”

Ross raised his glass and nodded his head at the mention of his chronic need to make sure that nobody ever had an empty hand.

“You look hot, by the way,” commented Carly, earning a wide smile from Este as she eyed her and Adam and their costumes. They were dressed as the twins from The Shining.

“I’d say the same about you babe. But not hotter than Hann, unfortunately,” She replied, giggling at his blonde wig. He flicked the fake hair upwards with sass in response to her compliment, making the whole group laugh.

Matty’s hands stayed there on her hips for the next few hours, only removing themselves periodically when they got up to mingle or to get another drink or when Este heard a song she wanted to dance to. But otherwise, his touch was glued to her.

It was starting to drive him crazy that that was all he could do, though. She grew increasingly flirty with him as the night went on; making sure to grind her ass deeper into his lap every time she towered forward to grab crisps off the coffee table, or leaning her back into his chest to turn and give him a kiss on the jaw, or leaving her hand way too far up his thigh. Matty wanted more—but she couldn’t give him that.

Then, Charli brought her point-and-shoot camera out and people began to pose. Everyone messily heaped into groups and threw middle fingers and peace signs up and the camera flashed repeatedly. Once most guests and their costumes were captured at least a couple of times, she came over to Este and grabbed her by the arm.

“We need a photo, E! Come outside,”

The excited and tipsy host made Este stand with her, serving looks down the lens and playfully posing together.

“Wait! I should light my cig!” exclaimed Este, still holding the unlit one between her fingers. She reached around the corner for Matty and gestured to his pocket, wordlessly asking him to do it for her.

Este insisted on holding eye contact with him as she grasped the smoke between her lips and he held the flame underneath its end. It made Matty swoon, seeing her suck her cheeks in and then blow the smoke out the side of her mouth.

She enjoyed a joint and its high here and there, but wasn’t as big of a smoker as him, and was rarely caught messing with nicotine. So, the sight was a bit unusual—and it turned Matty on.

After more photos with Charli, Este shoved her phone into her hand and dragged Matty into the frame. He complied, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist and giving the lens his attention. They smiled together, earning a collective ‘aw’ from the people around the room who looked.

They took turns altering expressions, some serious and some silly (like when Este stood proudly while Matty grabbed her tits from behind, peeking his head out to the side); all while she only held the lit cigarette without smoking it.

But for one photo, Matty watched her take a drag. She then looked up at him through her black eyelashes, and leaned in without saying anything. Gulping, he followed her action and leaned in as well, realising that Este wanted to shotgun the smoke she’d just inhaled.

So he parted his lips and breathed in as she blew the smoke into them, locking her gaze again. He felt the buzz immediately, and Este smirked with just millimetres between them before pulling away.

Matty swore he felt his dick twitch in his pants—and even thought he saw Este squeeze her legs together in his peripheral vision. Luckily, he also saw Charli capture the moment with both her camera and Este’s iPhone, so at least he’d have evidence that it actually happened. And that he didn’t just dream it up.

“Okay, you guys are sexy. I get it. Can you take some of me and George now?”

—

Este’s behaviour wasn’t innocent and unknowing. He knew she was riling him up on purpose. So in return, as soon as they stepped foot back into their shared house, Matty had her pinned against the wall. They’d barely made it into the corridor.

She gasped, but quickly gave in and kissed him with hunger.

“Something wrong, Father?” Este asked breathily, breaking away for air and tugging at his collar.

His hands tangled in her hair and yanked it backwards to make her head tilt up. “You’ve been very sinful tonight,”

Their lips hungrily reconnected, kissing with open mouths. Este grabbed him over his pants, drawing a hiss out of Matty. She then felt his hand trail up from her waist, over her chest, and onto her neck. He pressed lightly on the sides of her throat. She moaned into his mouth.

“Will you forgive me if I repent?” She asked, while slipping her fingers past his waistband.

“We’ll see. Only if you’re good for me,” Matty answered in a low voice. He grew rock hard as Este pumped him up and down a couple times in his pants. He breathed heavily and made pretty sounds when she dragged her thumb over his sensitive tip.

“I will. I swear,” begged Este.

“Then kneel.”

Sinking to her knees, she took his length out of his pants and gave it a kiss like she was worshipping it. Her flattened tongue ran up its underside from the base, taking his head into her mouth when she reached the top.

Matty shuddered, cradling her jaw with his palm. “Fuck,” he choked out.

She swirled her tongue around him before taking a breath and bringing him farther. His cock hit the back of her throat, making her gag and then moan with pleasure. The vibrations made Matty buck his hips forward and hit her maximum again.

Este's hand did the work her mouth couldn’t reach, setting a comfortable pace and gripping the back of his thigh with her other one. His skin tasted salty and made her shift her hips in desperation.

Matty then gathered her messy hair into one section behind her head. “You said you’re gonna be good for Father, right? Will you show me how good you are?”

She let out a muffled moan to say yes, attempting to nod while her mouth was full of him and her head bobbed up and down. Wetness accumulated between her legs.

“Okay. Then take me like the good girl.”

He steadied her head, gripping it with both hands, and gently thrust his hips. Este opened her jaw wider and took a breath while she could, before Matty thrusted into her again.

He went easy on her to make sure everything was alright, even though her was fully aware that she loved having her face fucked. Este loved pleasing him, letting him take control, and tasting him down her throat. It could make her cum on the spot.

Not long afterwards, he tightened his grip on her hair and brought her mouth down even deeper onto his cock. “That’s it, baby.” He praised, jaw slack with euphoria as her throat constricted around him.

Tears gathered in the corner of Este’s eyes, her nose repeatedly grazing the hairy skin of his pelvis. His thrusts grew relentless. The filthy sounds of her mouth around him echoed through their entryway and mixed with their combined moans.

His head threw itself backwards and he groaned every time Este’s warm mouth swallowed him. “Shit, you were fucking made for me,” Matty said, after bringing his attention back down to the sight of her. Spit dripped down her chin. Her lips grew red at the way they were stretched around his cock.

“Just a bit more. You’re taking me so well,” moaned Matty, feeling his orgasm creeping up. They both knew he wouldn’t last long.

Este was a champ, squeezing her eyes shut as he fucked faster to chase his end. To finish him off, she hollowed her cheeks and stiffened her tongue beneath him, feeling the vein that ran down the underside of his cock, bobbing her head again to meet him halfway.

His hips rammed into her face a couple of more times, before he cried, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. E, I’m—”, and then came.

She sprung up, finally able to take a breath, letting Matty watch his cum spill onto her tongue. His tip sat above her open mouth and ropes of white pooled into it.

Este let it drip out and down onto her cleavage that was exposed through the cutout of her jumpsuit. Raising her hand and wrapping it back around his cock, she milked him of every last drop. The sudden prolonged pleasure made Matty’s hips buckle up, fucking her fist and spilling more of his seed onto her chest.

“Am I forgiven, Father?” she asked after swallowing fully, even dragging a finger through the cum on her tits and then sucking it clean.

Matty’s chest heaved up and down, and his head was so hazy from the mind numbing climax he was attempting to recover from that all he could do was nod. He caressed the top of her head with his shaky hand, then brought it down to drag his thumb over her lips.

It formed into a smile as Este looked up at him, his expression being shamelessly fucked out and giddy.

“I think I actually did just see God.”

#tbsg #meste blurb #matty healy #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x oc #the 1975 #matty healy fic #smut #matty healy smut

[inukag-archive]

do you know any nsfw stories that are set immediately after kagome comes back after the 3 years? It can be a chaptered story or oneshot

Thank you!!!

superpyku asked:

Hello, I love a good post-canon fanfic where it describes what happened when Kagome came back from the well. Doesn't need to be a long fic about their life thereafter but one about what happened during and immediately after their reunion will be good. Would love to know your fav list of such. Thank you

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

We love a good reunion fic! The list below is full of stories that take place right as Kagome returns to the Feudal Era and immediately after, split into NSFW and SFW for whatever mood you're looking for. There are a lot of fics like this out there, but we capped ourselves at 20 to keep the list at a reasonable length. Feel free to add your favorites in the reblogs/replies!

If you're looking for more post-canon goodness, you can also check out our other post canon lists:

Post Canon

Post Canon NSFW

Post Canon / Canon Fluff

Happy reading!

[NSFW]

Dearest by @kitramune (M)

After Kagome returns to the Sengoku Era, Inuyasha and she explore how deep their devotion really goes.

--

Linked by Alyxandra (E)

Inuyasha and Kagome experience their first night together three years after the disappearance of Shikon no Tama.

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When She Comes Back by Karaumea (M)

The story of his wait, her return, and their reunion. One-shot lemon that takes place during and after the last chapter of the manga.

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Her Time by @keichanz (M)

All he wanted was some of her time, but as it turned out, so did everybody else. He'd have to make it clear that while they merely borrowed her precious time, he stole and hoarded it for himself, because in the end, she and everything about her belonged to him.

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The Return by Sweet Inu Girl (M)

Kagome has returned to the feudal era after three years. Finally feelings are revealed and a new life begins for our favorite miko and hanyou.

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Coming Home by @ruddcatha (E)

The day Kagome returned to the Feudal Era, Kagome and Inuyasha came out of their long nightmares. When they are finally alone, confessions are made, feelings are revealed, and a decision is made that impacts the rest of their lives.

--

After the End: New Beginnings by @splendentgoddess (X)

Welcome to my official post-manga universe! This introductory story takes us through Kagome's return to the past, and her developing relationship with Inuyasha. The first installment of what will be my "After The End" series!

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To Fight For Tomorrow by @sarah-writes-stories (E)

The shard hunt...the battle with Naraku...it was only the beginning.

Their past held a terrible prophecy. Her future, the terrifying result. Kagome had finally been allowed to return through the well...but it wasn't luck that granted her wish.

The red threads of fate had always tied them all together, had always guided them towards each other. Now, as new powers are revealed and souls are healed, their destiny becomes clear.

Theirs is a quest that requires everything they have to give.

Theirs is a battle they cannot afford to lose.

Theirs is a fight to protect tomorrow.

--

Come Back To Me by jyvonne13 (M)

After defeating Naraku, Inuyasha and Kagome were separated for three long years after the well closed. What happens on that fateful day when Inuyasha catches her scent after so long? What do the two of them promise each other and how do their lives change from this point on?

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With You by Animetey (E)

“Kagome, did you come back to see me... and to be a priestess? Cause I thought...or, I’d hoped... that you came back to be with me.”

Everyone has their own version of what happened the night Kagome returned, this is mine.

--

[SFW]

White Dogs on Blue Cotton by @artistefish (T)

Caught up in the rush following her unexpected return to the past and to the man she loves, Kagome realizes a little late that some of her wardrobe choices aren't quite as private as they used to be. Post-canon, InuKag reunion, super-duper fluffy.

--

Hearts Returned by @mrfeenysmustache (M)

A sweet moment alone after a long day of welcome backs.

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Love Language by @shikonstar (T)

When Kagome returns to the past, a love-starved hanyou is hoping for some words of affirmation.

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One Day With You by @hanmajoerin (G)

After spending three years in the world she grew up in, Kagome is able to return home.

A three years later reunion fic.

--

Inukag Fluff Week 2022 (Chapter 3: Hot Springs) by @inukagbot (T)

inuyasha is a thoughtful, soft little puppy who missed his girlfriend very much so he decides to do something nice for her like the Good Boyfriend he is. confessions ensue.

--

Clashing Emotions by PureKagome (K)

Kagome has finally returned after her three year absence. And what is the first thing Inuyasha does? Screw up.

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Stay By My Side by PotatoButt (G)

Kagome finally gets to return to Inuyasha's time after three years.

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A Not So Modern Convenience by doggieearlover (T)

Post Manga Canon. Kagome is worried about InuYasha's happiness while he has the same concerns about her and tries to do something about it.

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Kagome's Got To Go by @ajoy3fanfics (NR)

The way Yuki and Suki saw it, this Kagome woman needed to go.

From the first day she came, they knew she was trouble. They had been playing a perfectly fun game of 'who can annoy uncle the most' (It was always Suki), when he suddenly stood up, passing them off to Shippo with a distant look in his eyes. Uncle was fast, there was no question about that, but unless there was a reason for him to be on high alert, he was downright lethargic. Still, Uncle Inuyasha needing space wasn't anything new, so it wasn't terribly worrisome that he took off at high speed; It did, however, raise a few red flags when Shippo shook them off and headed in the dog demons direction, screaming "it's her! She's back!"

--

Snapshots of Life After the End by ananova (T)

A collection of post-canon after the anime and manga end interconnected drabbles that show bits of Inuyasha and Kagome's life together. Not posted in any particular order.

--

Feel free to add your own recs in the comments or reblogs! Check our Masterlist of previous lists to see which topics we've covered.  After reviewing our submission guidelines, send us an ask (here).

#inukag archive #inukag fanfic #inuyasha fanfiction #post canon #reunion fics

[steddieas-shegoes]

take a break

Happy Birthday CJ @tboyeddie )!!! I hope this tiny token of my friendship makes you smile, and I hope your day is relaxing and you get to do whatever you want to do. Giving you the biggest hug and wrapping you in a fuzzy blanket so you can be cozy. - Mickala 💖

rated m | tags on ao3

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“Wayne’s just as bad as you.”

Steve looked at the giant box sitting in his living room, scribbled with little doodles and notes to their daughter, Jess. Her birthday wasn’t until next week, but since Wayne could only come this weekend, they’d arranged an early party.

He shipped her gift to their house since he couldn’t bring it on the plane.

Now Steve sees why.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Eddie said against his cheek as he came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “Nothing bad about wanting the best for our girl.”

“The best doesn’t have to be so…big.” Steve gestured to the box that was nearly his height. “What did he even get her?”

“He might’ve mentioned something about a swing set.” Eddie rocked them back and forth slowly. “But maybe it’s not.”

It was.

Steve glared at Eddie as he opened the top of the box to peek inside to confirm.

“We don’t even have anywhere to put it!” Steve whisper-yelled. Jess was asleep in her room, exhausted from a busy day at school and softball practice. “I’m not setting it up in my living room.”

“Sweetheart, we’ve got enough room on the back patio for this. It’s just one swing!” Eddie pulled a printed picture of the assembly from the side of the box. “See? Barely takes up any space. You won’t even notice it.”

“Right. I’ll just have to walk around it every time I have to take the trash out.” Steve crossed his arms. “Where are we even hiding this until her party?”

“I can make it fit in our closet.”

Steve’s brows raised in surprise.

For all that Steve used to hoard clothes, he only took up about 30% of their shared closet now. He was content with just enough to get through his week and a couple extra nicer outfits for special occasions.

Eddie, however, believed that more is more and he should get to have every shirt that looks even remotely decent on him.

Which, Steve admits, is most shirts.

“You’re not gonna make that fit.”

“How many times have you said that to me? I’ve always made it fit, right?” Eddie smirked at him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I’m going to bed,” Steve sighed, turning so he could hide the fond smile he had on his face.

“I’ll be in soon to make it fit!” Eddie replied.

Steve shook his head as he walked to their bedroom.

He stripped off his clothes with every intention of letting Eddie try his best.

——————————

“Daddy! You said Uncle Wayne was coming at 3:45. It’s 3:47 and he isn’t here!” Jess whined.

“Daddy did say that. But Daddy forgot you can read a clock and Daddy should have thought this through better,” Steve said as he finished making the pitcher of lemonade that Jess had long since abandoned.

“Where is he? Is he still in the plane?” Jess looked out the window and up to the sky as if she would be able to see Wayne waving out of the window of a plane if she tried hard enough. “Dad said that sometimes planes have to fly in circles before they can land. What if he’s dizzy?”

Steve hid a smile in the fridge as he put the pitcher of lemonade on the top shelf. “He’ll be here any minute. Maybe there was a holdup with his bags at the airport.”

He was glad Eddie was working right now or else he’d be pacing the floor and being as impatient as Jess. If he knew Eddie half as well as he thought he did, he probably was.

“Maybe they lost him.”

Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh at that. “Lost Uncle Wayne? I don’t think so. It’s pretty hard to lose a person, lovebug.”

“Not sometimes! My friend Hannah at school lost her sister once at the grocery store and her mom cried for two whole hours before they found her.”

Steve’s eyes widened momentarily. “But they found her! And she was just a kid who probably didn’t listen to her mom or dad, right? And your Uncle Wayne-“

“Is here!” Wayne yelled from the front door.

“Uncle Wayne!” Jess yelled as she ran out of the kitchen and dining area to their living room. “You’re not lost!”

“‘Course not! Couldn’t get lost right before your birthday. Then who’d sing ya the silly birthday song?” Wayne picked her up and settled her on his hip.

She was turning eight, and she was quite tall for her age, so this would probably be the last year Wayne could get away with this.

“Dad knows it. Doesn’t he?” Jess asked Steve, suddenly growing concerned. “What if Wayne did get lost?”

“Your dad knows it just fine,” Wayne said, setting her down and walking to Steve. “Hey, son. You doin’ alright?”

Steve let himself fall into a hug with Wayne, doing his best not to let tears gather.

It’d been a while, okay? He missed Wayne’s hugs.

“Glad you made it. Want a drink?” Steve pulled away to grab him a beer. “Grabbed your favorites at the store last night.”

“Drink sounds good.” Wayne popped the top before turning back to Jess. “I was promised a makeover last time we talked on the phone, wasn’t I?”

Wayne was a good sport, insisted that he didn’t care if it was playing catch at the park or getting his nails painted, he wanted to spend every second with Jess. Steve was just excited to have a day go by without eyeshadow glitter on his clothes.

“I got a new lip gloss that tastes like strawberries and you will love it, it’s just a little pink, but it tastes so good,” she said seriously, folding her hands in front of her and rocking onto her tip toes. “Can I show him daddy?”

“Yes, but remember what I said. It all stays in the bathroom. Go get everything ready first while he rests for a minute,” Steve smiled at her as she clapped and ran to the bathroom. “You don’t have to let her do the makeover. She’d be just as happy doing it to herself.”

“I’m happy to get a little glitter on this face. Could use a shinin’ demeanor,” Wayne joked. “Especially after the airport lost my bags.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “What? Do you need me to run to the store and get you stuff? Why didn’t you say so sooner? I’ll catch Eds before he leaves work so he can stop on the way home.” He walked over to the phone, only to be stopped with a hand on his arm. He looked at Wayne with furrowed brows. “What is it?”

“If you waited a second, you’d know they found them. That was why I was a bit late.” Wayne shook his head. “You ain’t gotta jump through hoops for me, I keep tellin’ ya. You doin’ okay? Really?”

Steve’s sharp inhale, his painstakingly schooled features on his face, his hands being kept busy so Wayne wouldn’t see them shake, it all added up to him not doing okay.

Wayne pulled him into a hug, one hand cupping the back of his head and one rubbing his back as he felt Steve sob against him.

“Son, what’s goin’ on? You boys need some help?” Wayne whispered so Jess wouldn’t hear. “You know I’ve got some money saved up if ya need it.”

Steve shook his head against Wayne’s shoulder.

“No, no.” He sniffed. “I mean we’re broke, but all the bills are paid and we still managed to spoil Jess for her birthday. It’s just-”

Wayne smiled sadly before pulling away.

“Everything?” Steve nodded. “I know the feelin’. You boys are doing a great job, though. I know it’s a lot right now, but you’ll get through it. You always do.”

“Just overwhelmed lately. Eddie’s been working a lot more and my classes are all labs this semester, which is so stupid, like why do teachers even need labs if they aren’t gonna be science teachers?” Steve threw his arms up. “And Jess got in trouble at school last week for fighting and she was technically right and protecting herself and another kid, but they have policies or whatever so she was suspended for a day and I had to miss class, which was a midterm day and the professor is a dick who doesn’t seem to understand that people have lives outside of the classroom. And Eddie doesn’t really understand my frustration because he hated school, so why should I care so much, right? But he’s kinda right, like, I was allowed to make up the midterm, why am I still letting it bother me?”

“Papa! I’m ready!” Jess yelled from the bathroom, interrupting Steve’s rant. “Do you want blue or purple eyeshadow?”

“Surprise me!” He yelled back before touching Steve’s arm. “We’re gonna talk about this more later, okay? Ya don’t have to hold this in, son.”

“I know. Enjoy your makeover,” Steve sniffed, wiping at the few tears that managed to still trickle from his eyes. “Eds should be home soon.”

——————————

When Eddie got home, Wayne was well on his way to being the prettiest princess Chicago had ever seen.

He barely contained a snort of laughter at the streak of dark pink blush across one cheek as he kissed Jess’ head and made his way back to the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Smells good,” Eddie leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, brows furrowing when he saw the red around his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. How was work?” Steve’s attempt at a comforting smile failed, and Eddie let his hands fall.

“Fine. Turn the stove off.” Eddie wasn’t sure what could’ve happened between that morning and now, especially since he’d been looking forward to Wayne’s visit even more than Eddie had been. “Look at me, Stevie.”

Steve turned to him, eyes still downcast, bottom lip worried between his teeth.

“Your head being loud?” Eddie whispered, cupping Steve’s cheeks in his hands. He smiled sadly when Steve nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

Steve shook his head, unsure of what Eddie could do. They were both doing everything they could, it was just how life was going for them right now.

No way out but through.

Eddie wordlessly pulled him into his chest, ignoring his quiet protest.

“We’ll order pizza if it burns.” Eddie had $20 cash in his wallet ready to go if Steve just said the word. “You’re doing too much, sweet love.”

“Jess, I totally forgot!” Wayne’s voice echoed from across the room. “Part of your birthday present is coming to stay with me at the hotel for a night so you can swim in the pool! Did you know it has a slide?”

Eddie turned to glance over his shoulder, nodding once when Wayne gave him an encouraging smile.

“Really?” Jess squealed. “Daddy! Dad! Please!”

Steve and Eddie were nearly bowled over by Jess, her excitement making them both give genuine smiles.

“If Papa is absolutely sure.” Steve looked over at Wayne, who was nodding. “You should go pack your backpack with pajamas and a bathing suit, little one.”

“I’m not little! I’m almost eight!” Jess argued as she ran to her bedroom.

“Wayne, you don’t have to-” Eddie started.

“You both need a night off. Maybe it won’t solve everything, but it’ll give ya time to yourselves.” Wayne ruffled Eddie’s hair, ignoring his groaning and complaining. “I’ll have her back before lunch tomorrow so she can get ready for her party. Plus, it’ll keep her outta your hair while you set everything up.”

Eddie and Steve knew better than to argue further, not with that stubborn old man.

Jess was packed in record time, giving Steve and Eddie hugs and a kiss on the cheek before practically bouncing out the front door.

Wayne just laughed and waved at them as he took her hand in his to lead her to his rental car.

The silence that followed was deafening, almost overwhelming.

Steve looked at Eddie, Eddie looked at Steve.

“We’re alone all night.” Steve sounded shocked, like it just sunk in. “Just us.”

“Just us. Alone,” Eddie repeated, his smile growing as he walked forward and stopped right in front of Steve. “I’m gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart.”

Steve melted against his chest at the words, grateful that Eddie was already wrapping his arms around him, keeping him from collapsing to the floor.

The past…six months or so, really, had been so stressful for both of them, they’d barely had time to do anything, let alone take care of each other in the way they both desperately needed. Steve wasn’t even sure the last time they actually managed to go to bed at the same time, his homework often keeping him up long after Eddie went to bed.

It would all be worth it, and they still managed to do little things for each other when they could, but it still sucked trying to get through it all.

“Miss you so much, Eds,” Steve mumbled against his neck, pressing his lips to the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

“Miss you all the time, baby boy. You wanna take a bath?”

Steve nodded against him, but didn’t pull away.

He didn’t need to; Eddie lifted him up under his thighs, waited for him to wrap his legs around his waist, and walked to their small, but cozy bathroom. Jess’ bath toy basket was still by the tub, along with an open bottle of bubble bath and her fruit punch shampoo along the edge. Eddie shook his head fondly before setting Steve down on the sink counter.

“She sure knows how to leave a mess, huh?” Eddie asked, not nearly as annoyed as he probably could be. “I guess she gets it from me.”

“Forgetting to close shampoo bottles? Definitely a learned behavior.” Steve kicked his toe out to nudge Eddie’s leg as he cleaned up and started the water. “Definitely not learned from me.”

Eddie turned around just to roll his eyes. “I don’t close them because I know you’re gonna use them. I don’t just forget.”

“Sure you don’t.” Steve pulls his own shirt off as he watches Eddie pour some of the coconut bubble bath. “Which is why you must also always forget to tell me when you’re running low on your body wash.”

“Exactly! You get it.”

Steve snorted and got off the counter to unbutton his pants, didn’t wanna waste any of their time waiting on Eddie to get him undressed.

“In a rush?” Eddie said over his shoulder as he let his hand run through the water to check the temperature. “We’ve got all night.”

“Not in a rush, just don’t wanna waste a second.”

“That sounds like rushing.”

Steve poked his shoulder as he stripped off his socks. “I’m not rushing.”

Eddie finally stood up and turned around, his breath catching when he saw Steve, completely naked, watching him with his hands on his hips.

“You’re so beautiful, baby boy,” Eddie whispered, reaching his hand out to run his fingers across his chest. His scars weren’t nearly as widespread as Eddie’s, mostly focused on his side and stomach, but Eddie liked to trace along the sensitive skin surrounding them just to watch him shiver. “How do you always look so good?”

Steve blushed, never good at taking compliments, even 15 years after Eddie gave him the first one. “I have bags under my eyes that look worse than that bag you found on the side of the road and tried to convince me you could polish up to use for when we visit Wayne.”

Eddie leaned in to give him a kiss. “No one knows how good you are at imagery, it’s such a shame. But they aren’t that bad, sweetheart. And they don’t make you less beautiful.”

Steve didn’t say anything else, just pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek and moved him out of the way so he could get into the almost full tub.

As he sunk down, every bit of stress he had in his body left him in a long sigh. The water temperature was perfect, the bubbles smelled good, and he could feel Eddie’s eyes on him in a way that made him feel precious, cherished, loved.

“You gonna join me or just stare at me all night?” Steve kept his eyes closed as he spoke, didn’t wanna disturb his peace.

“Can I do both?” Eddie asked from right next to the tub.

Steve opened his eyes to see Eddie already naked and gesturing for him to scoot up so he could join him.

Their tub was small, definitely not built for two grown men, but they managed to make it work. Once Eddie was settled against the back of the tub, Steve settled his back against Eddie’s front, pulling his knees up slightly and letting them rest against the sides of the tub.

Eddie’s arms wrapped around his chest, holding him up so he could relax completely.

They stayed like that for a while, quiet except for the occasional hum from Eddie.

Steve let his eyes drift shut after a minute or two, focused on the feeling of Eddie’s heart beating against his back, his breath puffing against his shoulder and neck or the top of his head, his fingers making patterns against his skin and chest hairs.

Every moment they’ve had to touch each other over the last few months had been rushed, and while Steve loved when Eddie got rough, he craved the softness of this moment sometimes too.

Now that he had it, his brain was shutting down, taking a rest from expectations, even the ones he liked having.

“Doing good, sweetheart?” Eddie whispered, not wanting to interrupt him.

“Mhm.” Steve’s mouth didn’t quite want to form words, but he was able to get that out at least. “Mmm.”

Eddie’s hands disappeared for a moment, but quickly came back with a soaped up washcloth. He rubbed along his arms and chest slowly, gently, whispering words to him as he worked. Steve felt cloudy, kind of like he’d stuck his head under the water, but kept smiling to himself. He hadn’t felt this good in a while, and he knew Eddie would take care of him.

“Stevie, I’m gonna get out so I can wash your hair. Can you open your eyes for me?” Steve blinked them open and turned his head, his vision blurry and taking a moment to completely focus on the man behind him. “That’s good, sweet love. You heard what I said?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie kissed his lips briefly, not wanting to pop the bubble Steve was in, before getting out of the tub and helping Steve settle back against the wall.

He wrapped a towel around his waist and dropped to his knees, cupped water over Steve’s head slowly, meticulously.

“Good,” Steve managed to get out as Eddie started scrubbing the shampoo into his hair, dragging his nails across the roots, massaging his scalp. “Love you.”

“I love you so much, baby boy.” Eddie kissed his forehead as he helped him tilt backwards so he could submerge all of his hair in the water to rinse it. “You deserve to feel good like this.”

Eddie always said that to him, even when Steve wasn’t floaty. They’d be sitting at a restaurant with Jess and he’d tell Steve to order whatever drink he wanted because he deserved to treat himself sometimes. They would be at the park watching Jess play with friends and Eddie would tell him that he deserved to have the family he always wanted.

Eddie made sure he knew he deserved to be happy, no matter the situation.

When Eddie was done, he kissed his temple and helped him out of the tub, pulling the plug for the water to drain as he held on to Steve’s hand.

The night went on, Steve got extra care and attention, and when he finally came out of the clouds, Eddie was holding a cup of hot chocolate for him to sip on in bed.

“Thank you, Eds. Needed that,” Steve said after taking a few sips, letting his head drop onto Eddie’s shoulder beside him.

“I needed it, too. Haven’t been able to really do much for you in so long. Started to feel like maybe I was failing.” Eddie sighed. “I know it’s not our fault, but we haven’t made us a priority in a while. I’m glad we got to tonight. We owe Wayne big time.”

Steve nodded, taking another long sip. “Maybe we can try to save up and get him that fishing pole for Christmas? That one he keeps talking about like it’s his firstborn child.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. “I think if we got that for him, he’d name it. I’d be forgotten.”

“I hope you don’t get jealous of your future sibling,” Steve joked, nudging Eddie’s side. “Wayne’s got plenty of love for you both.”

“I guess we’ll have to find out, huh?”

“I think if I can pull off a few extra shifts next month during school break, we can do it.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head. “Wayne would love that.”

“Well, I love him.”

“And he loves you. He wouldn’t have offered this if he didn’t.”

“He loves you and he loves Jess, he would’ve offered for you both if not for me.” Steve set the mug down on the bedside table before turning back to Eddie with a grin. “I think we could probably find the energy to get one round in before we pass out, couldn’t we?”

“One whole round? Very optimistic of you, sweetheart.”

Steve straddled Eddie’s lap, cupping his face in his hands. “Half a round?”

“That sounds possible.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #birthday fic #wayne munson #steddie dads

[delopsia]

Sleigh Ride | Rhett Abbott x Reader

My cozy little submission for @lewmagoo's Christmas Celebration 🤍 Word Count: 7,500 Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB!Reader, brief food mention, vague mention of somnophilia, Christmas celebrations mentioned but no religious activity tied to it, snowball fights, riding, unprotected sex. A little slice of winter fluff. Brief Summary: Rhett's fixing up the family sleigh to take you on the ride he never got to give you, but not everything goes according to plan when it's finished...

It's the crash that gets your attention. 

A harsh clatter of metal and a heaviness that booms when it hits the ground, thundering through the air like last night's storm. But despite its alarming appearance, you haven't the slightest clue where it came from, the noise bouncing from wall to wall and down to the cellar, never seeming to lose her vicious intensity.

But your feet must have grown ears of their own because they're carrying you out the door within a few seconds. Shoes thumping across hardwood older than you are and down the dirt driveway. On a one-way track to the barn where you last saw Rhett. He's the only person who could have caused such a—

...ruckus.

"Did the ghost of Christmas Past get ahold of you?" It's impossible to stifle the giggle that escapes you; not quite the sight you expected to find when you rounded the corner.

Rhett's eyes roll, hardly visible through the pile of Christmas lights that have fallen on top of him, "help me."

As much as you'd like to do that, you're not entirely sure where to begin. Stepping past clips and oddly shaped tools you don't know the name of, you bend down, grabbing a handful of the cables and pulling them away. Untangling them may take an entire day's worth of work, but at least the mass makes it easy to get them off of him, heavy as they are. 

"I thought you weren't decorating the house this year?" Your hands daringly stroking through his hair as you work, tangled from the Wyoming wind and the slightest bit damp with sweat. Should be something you find gross by now, but that grimy cowboy charm has dug its roots in deep.

"'m not," despite being the one tangled up, he's not that much help. Moving a little too slowly, as you nimbly work to free him of his decorative confines. 

His pause makes you wonder if that's your cue to speak."No?" 

And it must have been what he was waiting for because his head shakes, "Was tryin' t' find that damn drivin' harness." 

The last of the lights fall from his shoulders, laying in a heap around his ankles. A trap that he must deal with alone, lest you bend down and wind up on your knees for longer than planned. Instead, you savor the veins that bulge in his forearms as he reaches down to free himself, "Finally, see the wicked ways of big oil and convert back to old-fashioned horse and buggy?"

"Naw," he's peeking at you through the corner of his eye, seems to have caught on to the way your gaze lingers a moment too long, "d' you remember that ol' sleigh? The one my folks used for their weddin'?"

"The same one Perry cracked the frame of?" You still consider yourself fortunate that you weren't familiar with the Abbotts back then, far away from that first newlywed argument. Its hard telling if Rebecca will ever forgive Perry for making her walk through freezing snow that soaked her wedding dress on their special day. 

"'ts the one," those spurs on his boots chime like Christmas bells as he steps out from the hoard. Closer to you. "'m tryin' to fix it before Christmas."

Your head tilts to the side. "...you're not planning on a second wedding, are you?" Because as far as you remember, that sleigh has been a wedding-exclusive tradition, carrying every Abbott newlywed through a winter wonderland with their partner. And despite the newness of the rings adorning your ring fingers, you don't count as newlyweds anymore. 

Rhett just shakes his head. "Nah," leaning in to press his warm lips to your forehead before returning to the mess he's created, "but it ain't fair that I never got to give you a ride in it."

"I can think of other rides you've given me," and for once in your life, you're thankful he's not looking directly at you, or else he would have caught sight of the way your face dropped. How many more times will your inner thoughts dart off the tip of your tongue? 

He sputters, lights falling out of his hands, "I'm tryin' t' be serious here!" But those cheeks of his are red as can be, rosy with something torn between surprise and fondness. 

"But I'm fully serious," doubling down; there's no sense in going back now.

His index finger shakes at you, defiant, "I'm takin' you on a sleigh ride even if it's the last thing I do."

Your eyes trail over to Isabella, her fuzzy head poking out of her stall. There isn't a way in hell that she knows what is being said, but her gaze suggests she understands every word. Isn't pleased in the slightest about being downgraded from loyal ranch horse to novelty sleigh puller. But it can't be as bad as that parade sleigh she begrudgingly pulled back in January.

The voice in the back of your head openly wonders if he'll give up on it within a couple of days. You've never seen him quit that easily, but what are the chances that the sleigh is even fixable? The old red paint has long since chipped away to reveal decades' worth of rust and weathering and has long since lost parts of the metal underside. No longer capable of sliding across the snow, no, now its sharp ends dig into the frozen soil like a stubborn mule. 

But you wake up the next morning to find Rhett jotting down a plan on the back of some junk mail, and the next, he's out working on it before lunch. When Cecelia approached you two with the idea of staying in the house while she and Royal visited Rebecca and Perry for a month, you'd never imagined this was how Rhett would spend his time. 

"And here I'd thought you got lost in the barn," you chirp, only lifting your head to meet him for a kiss, frozen lips melting against your warmer ones like snowflakes. 

"'m sorry," and for your troubles of waiting an extra hour, he quiets you with a second kiss. Longer. Lingering with the same fire that got you bent over the counter earlier. "I can't seem t' find them damn sleigh bell straps."

On its own, your head tilts to the side. "You're done with the sleigh?" 

"Nah," he makes a face as he peels that hat off his head, seems to have glued itself there after a long day of sweating, his forehead still shimmering with it, "jus' realized there ain't no point in a sleigh ride if there are no sleigh bells." 

But the bells...simply do not exist. 

They're not in the shed, far out in one of the pastures. Nor are they in the cellar or the measly attic full of all the junk in the world. No matter where you two search, there isn't the slightest hint of a sleigh bell. Coincidentally, every person in Wyoming must be having the same problem because there are none when you venture into town. The bells, once sitting in the front of the tack shop, are now nothing but a memory, not to be restocked until next year.

"Hey, Rhett," you find yourself saying in the middle of the general store, "will this work?"

The corner of Rhett's lip wavers up and down, torn between amusement and mock annoyance at the tiny bell necklace in your hand. Red, green, and silver bells of various sizes, all crammed together to create a gaudy masterpiece with a built-in obnoxious soundtrack. 

If his eyes could roll the way into the back of his head, they would have by now. "Yeah, if you're plannin' t' be the horse."

But he's still reaching out to give it an experimental shake as if he's considering it for the briefest of moments. 

"I don't mind the idea of that," giggling, you move to set it back on the rack, returning to its equally festive companions. 

You blink, and all of a sudden, it's sitting in the cart. Not a word is spoken as Rhett winks at you before disappearing into the next aisle over, boot spurs chiming their taunting chant. 

It's only fair that you get him something obnoxious to wear, too—a reindeer antler headband with cheap golden bells on them. Enough to get you a funny look when they cross the scanner in the checkout, but not for him to mention anything about it. 

The bells sit on the counter like a taunting reminder of what seems to have disappeared from the ranch entirely. Vibrantly colored metal catching in the morning sunlight when Rhett leans in to catch you with a goodbye kiss as if he's embarking on some lifelong journey and not walking a couple of yards to the barn. 

One afternoon you catch him swearing to the high heavens over how much he can't stand that motherfucker, Perry, as he welds two pieces of metal together. Vaguely shaped, seems to match the missing piece beneath the rusty old sleigh. On another, he walks into the house, reeking of paint stripper.

"Did you take a bath in this stuff?" You ask, lathering your hands for a second time, working your way back through those freshly washed locks of hair. Silky soft to the touch, the peppermint of his shampoo nearly enough to drown out the overwhelming scent of chemicals. 

"I even used gloves," his nose wrinkles, eyes scrunching shut at the stray bit of soap running down his forehead. Your finger swipes it away just in the nick of time before it can cross his eye and begin to sting. 

You're fortunate that washing his hair has become a favorite winding down activity because it seems you spend half of your evening helping him scrub every crevice twice. Washing away the grime from under his nails and not resting until he smells like peppermint and the brisk winter breeze...at least that's what the bottle says. It's more of a dull mintiness that kisses your nose when you get close enough. 

But it only marks the start of something else. 

Red flecks of paint cling to his clothes and skin like a toddler who has gotten carried away with an unsupervised art project. Unlike the paint stripper, it doesn't carry a scent that makes you lightheaded, but you roll your eyes every time you see him. Red on the edges of his nails splattered up his forearms and reaching up to his cheeks. Ratty old jacket growing to look like it's been involved in a crime.

It reaches its worst on Christmas Eve. Days of paint piling up to join the remnants that stubbornly cling to his skin, making him to look like a Halloween decoration that was accidentally left out when the others were rounded up. But there he is hair decorated with flecks of white as he stomps his boots on the entry mat, shaking free of the clinging snow. 

He looks ridiculous.

"Quit laughin' at me every time I come in the door," he chuckles, not an ounce of seriousness to his tone as he meanders up to you, rubbing his painted nose against your forehead whilst he draws you in. Some big hug that greedily steals away the heat your body has collected over your cozy day in the house, all for the sake of melting your favorite frosty cowboy. 

"You would be laughing too if you saw yourself," your thumb squishes his cheek, feeling the soft prickle of his facial hair as you wipe away a few red flecks. Only to spot more above his brow, and in his hair, and clinging to the side of his neck. 

No, no, no, you have to look away, or else you'll catch yourself scrubbing him down with the sink sponge. Already in your free hand and drenched in dishwater that you've just run, hadn't quite been expecting him to come in so soon. 

You suppose there's the reason why he's here an hour earlier than usual, because he's hooking his thumb into your belt loop and pleading for you to step away from the sink for just a moment. And who are you to deny him when he's grinning at you with paint-freckled cheeks? Soft blue eyes glittering with an excitement that only appears when he's proud of himself. 

So off you go. Stumbling down the dirt driveway in your pajama pants and the winter coat you'd snatched off the hook when you were halfway out the door. Not dressed warm enough to escape the wind nipping at your exposed cheeks, squeezing between the fabrics of your clothes and wrapping you up in a full-body chill. Snowflakes drift past like tiny fairies, melting on your skin and clinging to Rhett's hair. 

Then you see it.

A bright red sleigh pokes out from around the barn door, paint so pristine that it shimmers. Not a hint of how it once rusted to the brink no return doesn't bear its scars of Perry's fateful wedding joy ride. No, it's wrapped up in a big silver bow, like it's brand new. Brought home from the shop, fresh out of the factory, and certainly not a fifty-year-old family heirloom.

You can see exactly where he painted it earlier; the color a little darker where it's still wet, but it's...perfect. 

"Are you sure this is the same sleigh?" Blinking once. Twice. 

It's still there. Real as you are.

"Y' can't tell where I welded it?" His shivering hand points to a space in the underside of it, but quite frankly, it all looks the same to you. He could have tricked you into believing that this is a different sleigh entirely. 

Your head shakes, a movement that dissolves into a full-bodied shiver, "Not a bit." 

It's perfect. The color. The repair. The timing. Only Rhett Abbott can pull together a monumental task at the last moment, all for the sake of a special day. The necklace of bells catches your eye when you meander back inside, dashing for the blankets that have been warming by the space heater. The necklace won't fit Isabella, but they'll certainly fit you.

Who cares where the jingle is coming from? As long as it's there, then you can't bring yourself to utter a single complaint. 

Rhett's heated glare at the reindeer antlers resting menacingly on the couch suggests that he could definitely complain, though.

 The Christmas tree twinkles in Cecelia's office, just a couple of feet away from the living room, a pleasant golden hue that warms the room with its presence. A tiny addition to the movie playing on the television, only serving to make you nuzzle into Rhett a little closer. His heart beating gently against your ear, scruffy cheek resting against your forehead. 

You're snuggled up in bed when you realize you forgot to finish washing the dishes and now soaking in frigid water with nothing but a memory of soap left. But you can't bring yourself to slip out of Rhett's arms to clean up a few measly dishes. It can be left for the morning. Before Rhett gets up to fetch Isabella and works away with all of the mechanics that go into pulling a sleigh. 

They're the first thing on your mind when you slip out of bed in the morning.

Well...that and bringing Rhett a piece of butter toast that he so politely held you hostage for, refusing to let you free of his arms until you paid his tax of kisses and treats. The downside of marrying a cowboy too strong for his own good.

But you don't make it to the sink before you see it.

White.

A winter wonderland so bright that it hurts your eyes to look at it. Reaching as far as the eye can see, toppling high in the trees, and coating everything with a thick winter blanket until you can no longer recognize the Abbott property. But that's not the problem. No, the problem is how much of it there is.

At least a foot and a half deep, not enough to block you in but definitely enough to warrant breaking out the plow. Piled up outside the barn doors, packed tight by the squealing wind, and stacked high on the roof of Rhett's truck. 

"Rhett!" You call out, voice echoing all across the house. Distantly, you think you catch a grumble that sounds like a response. "Can you take a look outside for me?" 

Feet thunk across the floor overhead. 

And then you hear it. 

A muttered, "Shit."  Clear as day, traveling through the paper-thin walls, down the stairs, and straight to your ears.

He's out the door before the toast pops out, swearing under his breath as he yanks his coat over his shoulders; you're surprised he even remembers to lean in and kiss your cheek before he heads out into the world of white. 

There's no way that the sleigh can go through that much snow, but one way or another, you find yourself fiddling with the edges of your gloves, walking towards the barn, bell necklace jingling every step of the way. Despite the added protection of all these layers, the wind still works its way in. Biting at every centimeter of exposed skin that can be found, heckling you even when you step into the safety of the barn. 

"Rhett?" Calling out into the empty room. He isn't here, and the sleigh still sits where you last saw it, completely untouched. In fact, the only other living creatures in this barn are the horses. Isabella's head pokes out of her stall as if she's confused about this whole thing herself. 

Her ears prick forward. Suddenly interested.

Something cold splatters against your back.

"Rhett!" You're squealing. Spinning on your heels. Just in time for a second ball of white to explode against your chest.

Snowballs.

A third whizzes past your head. Smashing into something that goes crashing to the floor. Spooks a noise out of the horses. You'd check. But you're already diving behind the safety of a barn door. Scrambling to scoop up some snow into a crudely formed ball.

...where did he go?

One moment he was darting toward you. The next, he's virtually vanished.

But he's left footprints. Little tracks that cross yours and venture toward the corner of the barn. You see him now. The tip of his hat poking around the corner. Wavering. Like he's about to burst out and pelt you with another ball.

Except you're quicker. Bursting out from your hiding spot. Nailing him in the shoulder with a ball that splatters up into his face. 

"Shit!" He's pawing at his icy cheek. Snowflakes sparkling, clinging to his stubble. 

"A snowball fight, really?" You giggle, reaching for more snow. Packing it together as quickly as you can. Racing to beat Rhett's quicker hands. 

The sound of your necklace jingling washes over his laugh, "scared yer fixin' t' lose?" 

This isn't a fight you started, but it is certainly one that you will finish. 

Except your shot misses Rhett by a mile. His retaliation narrowly brushes past your leg. He's reaching for another, and so are you. Futilely gathering up bits of ammunition. Scrambling to step away from each other. Fearing the other will charge at any moment. Snow crunching heavily beneath your feet. Powdery and kicking up to cling to your pants. 

Again, you're taking an aim at him. And this time, you don't miss. White scattering about Rhett's messy curls. A perfect headshot.

"You little—" He's making a break toward you like a bull out of a chute. So suddenly that your foot slips out from under you in your efforts to escape. Fighting against your pounding heart and the wicked brace of the wind. Snow still clutched in your gloved hand as he yells. "Come here!"

Shit. Shit. Shit. You've nowhere to go.

You're darting into the barn. Boots scuffing against the old pavement floor as you veer left into the tack room. Spurs jingle behind you. Overjoyed laughter like a haunting squeal that adds a little more fire to your step. Bee lining straight for the hay, past the saddle racks, and out the half-open side door.

Turning. Throwing the snowball right into Rhett's chest. But it's only adding fuel to the already open blaze. 

"That ain't fair!" He hollers. In the corner of your eye you can see him bending down, scooping up snow. Not even bothering to ball it up before he throws it at you. Tiny snowflakes stabbing at your eyes and cheeks. 

You yelp, pawing at your face with the back of your hand. "You don't play fair!" 

Where are you going? You have no idea because you're back in front of the barn again. Racing for the house. As if the safety of the mud room will thwart this evil attack from your husband. Feet falling into your old footprints, vying for a quicker escape.

Weight hits your back.

"Rhett!"

The world spins.

"Quit yellin' at me!"

 Your bodies are twisting in the snow. Tumbling like two children. The fall cushioned by the frosty ground but melting, seeping through your clothes with an icy vengeance. All of a sudden, you're flat on your back. Chest heaving. Gasping for frozen air as you peek up at the broad frame above.

Rhett's hair hangs in front of his face, puffs of foggy breath falling from his open mouth. Forearms shivering where they rest on either side of your head. Not quite as strong and indomitable as he was just a moment ago.

"Fine," you pant, blinking back up at him, "you win."

The corner of his lip rises. Pearly white teeth glint in the light reflecting off the snow, growing brighter as he leans down. You can see it even as your eyes fall shut; this bright presence that rivals the blinding sun, warming you with the way his lips melt against your own. 

Perfection is what it is. 

His soft inhale never grows old, has been making you dizzy from day one. Delicate at first, a gentle pressure that deepens the moment your gloved hand curls around the back of his neck. Hardly expect him to be the one who gasps into your mouth with this barely-there grunt that the wind carries to your ears.

His body is lowering atop yours with this wonderfully comforting weight that feels the equivalent of a blanket sent straight from the heavens. Your hands gliding down his chest, pressing against rippling muscle, on their way to wrapping around his waist. Pulling him closer, urging him to settle between your parted legs until there isn't a centimeter of space between you. 

For a moment, you're somewhere else. Cozied up in bed or nestled in front of a roaring fireplace. 

But then the wind is squealing in your ears, and a violent shiver is raking down your back. Suddenly aware of the melting snow, seeping through protective layers and stinging at your skin. One of your hands drops, gathering a loose handful of the powder that has seemingly swallowed up Wabang in its entirety. 

"So much for that sleigh ride," Rhett murmurs against your lips, his voice a soft vibration that warms you like sunshine. 

Your noses bump together as you lean up, so close you can almost hear the thoughts filtering through his head, "I can think of something else that may suffice." 

This close, it's easy to catch the way his eyes flicker, meeting with yours, a hint darker than they were beforehand. He's not on the same page as you, but he's certainly on the right chapter. 

Almost makes you feel bad for smacking that palm-full of snow into the side of his head. 

He yelps, pawing at his frozen cheek. Opening up space for you to roll and scramble to your feet. Darting for the ice-covered porch and through the front door. Uncaring of where your shoes land as you kick them off. 

The door squeals open. But it's not loud enough to wash over the outright giggle that bubbles out of your cowboy. 

"That!" Rhett's kicking at the heel of his boot, shoving them off his feet as quickly as he can manage. "Was mean!" 

Your feet have glued themselves to the floor. Unable to move or cover up the grin etching its way across your wind-bitten face as he steps up behind you. "But you're laughing." 

From over your shoulder, his gaze meets yours. Darker than the first time.

"Yeah," he mutters, in that deep, grumbly fashion that makes your knees weak, "'Cause 'm 'bout to do this." And before he can so much as finish his sentence, his frozen hands dart beneath your shirt. Palms pressing against your warm belly. Firm, even as you yelp. Trapped between his arms, unable to jump anywhere but back into his chest. 

"Rhett!" But you can't get away. Squirming, stumbling in his grasp. Strong enough to force your bodies to stumble forward. Not enough to break free of the frigid fingers danging up your sides. 

"Jesus, why're y' so fuckin' strong?" The only disadvantage Rhett has is the socks clinging to his feet. Unable to gain a hint of traction on this hardwood floor. Slipping, sliding around. "Y' little bull."

Speaking is beyond you. Breathless as your feet dig into the scratched wood. Pushing yourself backward, Rhett's back thunking into the wall. 

He's laughing. 

You're at the end of your rope, and he's laughing.

Scowling, you push back a little further. The soft curve of your ass pressing into his jeans, drawing those chuckles into a guttural groan that tickles down your spine. Weakening the slightest bit at the way you wriggle against him, feeling the way he twitches, hardening until he's straining against the material.

Your name falls off his lips. Hardened arms, now soft, hugging you against him, powerless to do anything else. The brim of his hat bumps against your head as he leans into you, putty in your hands.

He doesn't say a word, but the hot breath on your neck tells everything you need to hear. 

Slow, you spin, twisting in his arms until you're nose to nose. Your hand free to reach down and slip between his legs, cupping him through his jeans. Drinking in that shaky breath, the way he pushes into it, and how his eyes flutter. A pretty show, all for you. 

You know that you shouldn't be tugging on his zipper; Cecelia's van is bound to roll up the snowy driveway at any moment, with food ready to head into the oven and gifts to be opened by the tree, fresh home from their California ventures. There is no time for this, and yet your thumb is popping open his button, too-cold fingers venturing inside. 

That pretty mouth falls open. Jolting as your hand wraps around him, remaining still in that helpless sort of way while you draw him out. Until his cock is fully out, in the middle of this hallway, right by the front door. Growing harder in your grasp, only takes two slow pumps of your fist to get him all the way there. Aching. Yearning.

"Why're you so quiet all of a sudden, cowboy?" You whisper a taunt uttered so quietly that it ought to be poetry. 

His Adam's apple bobs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. But he doesn't say anything. 

No, he's quiet.

Even as you take a fistful of his jacket, haul him off the wall, and back him into the living room. A wordless dance that bumps your noses together but never lets your needy mouths meet. His hands on your hips and yours on his chest, the only sound in the room that of your necklace jingling, an echo of the sleigh ride you were supposed to have. 

Fortunately, you can think of a much, much better ride. 

The backs of his knees bump into the couch, falling backward with an unceremonious thump. Springs squealing, something nameless popping in a fashion that can't mean anything good. 

You don't care.

Neither does he. Too busy leaning forward and hooking his fingers in your waistband, gently tugging your pants down your thighs. All the while, you're unzipping your jacket, dropping it to the floor just as your legs escape the confines of all those layers. Suddenly, all too exposed in this not-so-warm house.

"C'mere," he breathes. 

And oh, you do. Knees settling on either side of his hips, his lap the perfect cushion that you settle into, his hard cock squishing between your bodies, the fabric of your sweatshirt rubbing against it. Soft mouths collide. Hungry. All taking. Rough stubble brushing against your chin, with a kind of tingling burn that you've become all too familiar with. A dizzying clash intensified by the jingling of the cheap bells around your neck.

Blindly, your hand reaches off to the side, feeling about the cushion until the texture changes, suddenly running over smooth fabric and cold bells. Light in your gasp, so nonchalant that Rhett doesn't notice what you're doing until you've slid the headband behind his ears.

"Did you just stick them damn antlers on me?" His eyes remain defiantly shut as if it will help him avoid the festive decor now perched on his head.

"I told you I had something else in mind," your reminder doesn't go without one of his grunts, bordering amusement. 

That pretty mouth opens, tongue lifting with the beginnings of a word that never makes it out of his throat. Silenced into a gasp, all at the way your hand wraps around him again. Thumb massaging directly under his flushed tip, exactly how he likes it. 

"Shouldn't the one wearin' the bells be the deer?" His complaint so weak that it hardly sounds like one at all. Head tilting back to rest against the cushion, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hands running between your bare thighs, not stopping until his palm cups your sex through your underwear. 

For a moment, your resolve wavers, "Do you want to wear the bells, too?" Taunt shaky. Struggling to keep that same tone. 

The glint in his eye suggests a strong, absolutely not.

You're rapidly losing ground here. For every stroke of your hand on his cock, his fingers stroke the meet of your folds, separated by that tiny bit of fabric. So close to pushing inside, fucking you nice and slow on them until you whimper for him to stop. 

The rational part of your brain expected him to pull the fabric down your legs, much like he had with your sweatpants. But that's not what he does. No, he's dipping a finger into the band and pulling it off to the side, bearing your wetness to the not-so-warm house. 

"Fuckin' drippin'," he muses, all to himself, thick fingertips stroking up to your clit, swirling gently, "'n I ain't even done nothin' to ya."

It's hard to think. Thoughts coming to a screeching halt. Only able to focus on the hammer of your heart and the delicious drag of his fingers as they nudge into your entrance. Two sliding in with surprising ease, still open and stretched from how he woke you in the middle of the night. Cock sliding between your thighs until you had reached down to ease him in, drifting in and out of sleep as he fucked you nice and soft. 

The memory is as fuzzy as a dream, the soreness your only indicator of it ever happening. Did you ever hit your peak? Did he? You don't remember. 

"Fuck," he grumbles, fingers bottoming out so easily that your vision sparkles at the edges, "did I stretch ya out that much, baby?" 

"Don't get too full of yourself, cowboy," but your threat is empty, not a shred of seriousness to be found. Even your hand can't muster the strength to squeeze him tighter than necessary, a little warning that would make him jolt.

Instead, you're stuck lazily stroking him, some repetitive movement that hardly keeps your mind off the devilish fingertips running along the inside of your dripping cunt, searching for where you're more sensitive. His thumb lazily pushing between your folds, nonchalantly nudging against your clit. 

Your breath catches. 

"There it is," Rhett's grinning, rubbing against that soft bundle of nerves in loose circles that damn near make your eyes cross, "'s that feel nice?" 

The wriggling of your hips is enough of an answer. Grinding down into him, chasing more of those deliciously thick fingers, can't think about anything else. Just him and the sickly, wet sound he's drawing out of you with every thrust. Thumb working your clit in loose tandem, so good that you can't even move your hand over his cock anymore. 

"Wanna," gulping, you try again, "wanna ride you."

His smile widens, already beginning to draw his hand away, "All y' had t' do was ask, darlin'." 

Your knees ache as you move to sit up, digging into the broken-down cushion of the couch, a poor cushioning that's remedied by the nudge of Rhett's cock against your cunt. Blunt, dripping tip dragging through your wet folds, kissing your weeping entrance. 

His palms settle on your hips, fingers tracing loose circles into your chilly skin, a soft guide that leads you down onto him. An ache blossoming as you stretch to take him. Can never seem to grow used to how thick he is. Engorged veins and dripping like a goddamn faucet, so good that you don't mind the waddle this will surely put in your step.

"Fuck," his breathing growing heavy, squeezing on your sides. Sweat already beads at his forehead, loose strands of hair sticking, a beautiful sight that ought to make you faint. 

That fat tip finally slips inside, dragging against your walls as you sink down onto his lap. Has you pulsing and fluttering around him from the fullness alone. Filling you until your chest feels too tight, panting for breath that you can't hold onto for more than a second. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, head dropping down until it knocks against his. 

Eye to eye, panting into each other's mouths in the golden light of the Christmas tree. Sinking lower and lower until your ass meets his thighs, pussy so full of him that it's almost too much to handle. 

"God," he grunts, "y' take me so goddamn good." 

The bells on his antlers jingle as he shifts his weight, leaning back to get a better look at where he disappears into you. Two thick fingers dip between your shivering thighs, feeling the space he's spread you the widest. Absolutely enthused. 

Your first movement is marked by the sharp jingle of bells. Chiming their song as you lift your body about halfway, only to sink back down. Eager to feel the caress of his cock against those spasming nerves, so good that you have to remember to shut your mouth before you begin to drool. 

It's not quite as rhythmic, but it sounds like the bells Isabella was meant to wear. Punctuating the motion of your body as you work up a comfortable pace. Leaning forward into Rhett's warm chest, your arms still looped around his neck, mouths clashing in a too-messy kiss that leaves your lips shiny. 

"My cock feel that good in you?" He's speaking into your mouth in between wet kisses. Already a thin trail of saliva connecting your tongues before they can even meet, tangling with a lewdness that ought to make a sinner blush. "Talk to me, doll."

You're not even thinking about what he's saying. Already have an answer resting at the forefront of your mind. "Always."

The cushions are digging painfully into your knees. Hasn't been meant for this kind of activity since the early 2000's. But you're powering through, desperately chasing the fullness of every meet of your hips. Sucking in your own sounds in favor of drinking in Rhett's sharp inhales, faint little noises that send a wave of heat between your legs. 

So good, so good, so good. You want more, but your thighs can't keep up. Aching worse than your overstretched sex, protesting the rise and fall that you can't get enough of. 

"Look at you," he marvels, nose bumping into yours, nudging impossibly closer to your bouncing frame. "Already outta breath 'n ya just started." 

You don't know if it's his voice or the twitch of his cock that sends a shiver up your spine, spasming involuntarily around him. Rips any shred of annoyance from your words as you pant, "Riding you isn't a walk in the park, cowboy."

His hips jerk up. Snapping into your pussy with a wet smack, downright smug as he drinks in your cry. Too sinful of a noise to echo through the halls of his childhood home. 

"'s that better?" God, you could wipe that wicked smirk right off his face. But he's doing it again. And you're helpless but to shudder and take it. Sucking in a breath just before he punches it out of your lungs. Bells jingling like a proper fucking sleigh ride.

Your head feels too heavy for your shoulders to carry, falling into the space between his neck and collar, weakly hanging on as he fucks up into you. Running your burning tongue across the protruding vein there, drinking in his breathy moan. 

But just the slight shift in your position has him striking something new. The kind of thing that makes your vision sparkle and your body spasm.

"Right there," whimpering into his ear, barely audible over your necklace, "please—Rhett!"

"Yeah?" He's trying it again, but he barely misses. Feet slipping across the wooden floor, struggling for the leverage he needs to buck up into you. Falling into weakened rolls that grind his cock in your pussy. Gentle rolling of hips that leave your nails biting into his shoulder.

All of a sudden, the room is spinning. Rhett's weight surging up to swing you to the left, your back bouncing against the ratty old couch. Impossibly remaining deep inside of you, his hips never once slipping from between your warm thighs. Necklace singing its shrill tune in your ears as he refinds his rhythm.

Now, he can hit those frazzled nerves. Drilling into it with a fervor that makes you worry about how you'll get up the stairs later. A price you're so, so willing to pay. Back arching off the cushion, legs squeezing those muscular hips as he fucks you deep. Long strokes that squelch with every inward thrust. 

"Oughta ruin this lil pussy," he's growling into your ear, a threat he's certain to follow through on if the squealing springs are anything to go by, "fuckin' droolin' 'round my dick."

Drooling is an understatement. You're drenched. A slick mess that has run down your shivering thighs, staining the front of his jeans and glistening on his cock. An obscene sight for every withdrawal of his hips, and that alone is enough to have your skin prickling. Crying high in your throat as your head thumps back against the couch, nails biting into his shoulders until you're certain the material may rip. 

You're close. Fuck, fuck, fuck, you're close, but it's not enough. No, it's not, it's not—

Rhett's rough thump presses against your throbbing clit. It's hardly even moving, and yet your mouth is falling open with a stuttered moan. You're right there. So close to the edge that your heart stutters in your chest, and your head is beginning to spin.

"This what you need, hm?" Rhett's egging you on, no doubt, can feel the way your pussy pulses around him, fluttering like a butterfly as he works you closer and closer. "Come on, sweetheart, cum 'round my cock for me." 

You don't need any further coaxing. Orgasm hitting you so hard that you've barely got time to register it. Spine arching off the couch, heels digging into Rhett's ass, squeezing him so close that he can hardly draw out of you. 

"That's it, baby, that's it," he's talking you through it, lips brushing against your cheek, but you can hardly feel it. Too wrapped up in a spiral of bliss. "Just like that, shit." 

Weak, your legs loosen, freeing him to start moving again. Jerkily thrusting into your pulsing heat, moaning low in your ear as he works himself closer and closer, and all you can do is hang on. Biting down overstimulated squeals in favor of gasping into his ear. 

"Cum in me, Rhett," you coax, shaking fingers clutching the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. "Please."

Those deep noises spur up an octave, pitchy as he whimpers, eyes squeezing shut. He's almost there, so close that he's begun to shiver from head to toe, erratic breath fanning out against your skin. Weak, you clamp down around him. 

And that's all it takes.

Hips snapping into you one last time, cumming in you with a fractured nose, torn between a grunt and a desperate cry. Twitching deeper inside, punctuated by short little groans that nearly make your eyes roll into the back of your head. His spasming cock filling your pussy until you become vaguely aware of the new wetness. Marked from the inside out, sure to run down your thighs like a symbol of what belongs to him.

For a moment, the room is quiet—nothing but heaving breaths and indescribably faint noises, your cheeks squished against each other. Until you find the strength to tilt your head and press a kiss to his jaw. 

Even this close, it's hard to miss Rhett's smile as he leans over to reciprocate the peck, "I love you."

"I love you more," you giggle, squeezing him a little closer now as if the centimeters of space between your chests is too much. 

He could argue with you. Hell, you're certainly expecting for him to, and it seems that he gives it a moment of thought, before surrendering to the after-glow and letting you get away with it. He'll surely get you back for it soon. Start a contest you're rarely able to win.

But for right now, all you can do is snuggle into each other, his comforting weight settled on top of you. With wordless kisses and nuzzles of cold noses, his big hands roaming beneath your shirt to stroke the soft skin there, stubble scratching your cheek in the softest fashion he can manage. There's an ache blooming in your legs from being wrapped around his hips for so long, but the idea of him pulling out feels even worse. 

"'m still takin' you on a proper sleigh ride," he grumbles into your ear, some soft-spoken promise that fills your belly with frosty butterflies. 

But you don't get to formulate a response because all of a sudden, his phone is ringing. Cecelia, ten minutes out from the house, her careful voice backdropped by Royal's snoring from the passenger seat. She's wrangled a friend into plowing the quiet strip of road leading to the house, making room for the old car to crawl past. 

You're cleaned up and on the porch, before the drive is even plowed. Snug under Rhett's arm, feigning clinginess to disguise the wobble in your knees, sore between the legs, and waddling like a festive penguin. 

Nobody notices, too thrilled with the idea of presents and warm dinner to look into the finer details. Except for Rhett, that is. A smug, irritating grin plastered upon his pale face for the entire afternoon. Proud of his handiwork.

The sleigh bells were in Cecelia's trunk. Had accidentally landed there when she had taken the harness to the tack repair shop back in October, and in her rush to get everything packed for the trip, she forgot to take them out. 

As the sun begins to set and you're helping Cecelia put away the dishes, Rhett's head pops around the corner. Snowflakes clinging to his hair, nose red as can be, asking to steal you away for the rest of the afternoon. 

And outside the house stands his beloved mare. Her mane was braided, and her bells chiming proudly in that festive fashion exclusive to Christmas. She's rusty at first, taking a moment to remember what Rhett's asking of her, but she's perfect. Content to make her way down the snow-white driveway, jet black tail swishing from side to side. 

"Is this the sleigh ride you've been dying to take me on?" You giggle. Your chin propped on his shoulder, peering over at his grinning, wind-bitten face. 

"Mhm," his head tilts to rest against yours, "but I think I liked your idea a little better." 

It takes an hour longer than usual for you two to return from the barn that night.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #oneshot #outer range #x reader #a lew magoo christmas